injunism

[injunism]

this made me giggle (positive) but I can’t stop thinking about how low these cars are. I’m just imagining them struggling to get down (a bit awkward) on the nose unless it’s perched up but even then they’re so light I know yn as a mechanic was scared it’d fall if that was the case T^T (million dollar car ruined all for a good fuck: worth it?). a nice night read.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ overdrive — l. jeno

pairing: f1 racer!jeno x lead mechanic!reader genre: enemies-to-lovers, smut, unresolved tension content: rough sex, dirty talk, hand around throat, exhibitionism risk, praise/degradation mix, anger-laced lust, slow burn snap, control and surrender w.c: ~2.5k notes: mmm, so i basically know nothing about cars or f1. everything i do know is mostly thanks to a friend who’s obsessed with it (i’ll admit leclerc is kinda cute). but yep, don’t take this too seriously, i really don’t know anything about engines at all.

the heat is relentless, already unbearable this early in the day. the garage swelters, thick with the smell of hot rubber and engine oil, even with the bay doors rolled wide open. summer heat clings to your skin like a second layer, thick and suffocating.

the sunlight pours in heavy and golden, dust drifting lazily through the air, settling over metal frames and stacks of spare parts. the car (jeno’s car) sits up, stripped open like ribs in an autopsy. 

and you’re crouched low by the front wheel, sleeves shoved up, hair sticking to the back of your neck. sweat pools at the hollow of your spine, and your fingers are slick with grease as you twist the wrench, tightening a bolt he nearly rattled loose earlier by braking too hard into turn nine. again.

the rest of the world is just the hum of the lights, the creak of shifting metal, until the sound of footsteps breaks through—

“still playing with your tools, sweetheart?”

the weight of his gaze lands between your shoulder blades. you don’t even bother turning, your hands keep moving on muscle memory alone.

“you’re gonna strip that bolt if you keep over-tightening it.”

his voice again. he’s closer now. he crouches just out of your peripheral, that signature smirk audible in the tilt of his voice. it makes your jaw tighten.

“i wasn’t aware the car came with a built-in commentator.”

he doesn’t reply right away. you hear the soft thud of something set down, probably his helmet, before the sound of his shoes shifts closer. the air changes; heavier, warmer, like he’s bringing the heat with him.

“wasn’t aware the team hired someone with a god complex.” he says eventually, his voice tilting just enough to make the words drip. there’s a metallic clatter as he leans against a cart behind you, arm cocked lazily against the metal drawers. 

your grip tightens. it would be so easy to throw the wrench at his head. you exhale instead. “look, unless you’re planning to do something useful—”

“—i am,” he cuts in smoothly. “i’m making sure my car doesn’t fall apart under someone who clearly hates me more than she likes her job.”

your jaw flexes around all the things you want to say but know would get you fired. you stand slowly, wiping your hands down your thighs. the grease leaves black streaks over the worn fabric, but you don’t care.

when you finally look at him, he’s already watching you, suit half-unzipped and tied around his waist, undershirt clinging from the heat. there’s a faint sheen along his collarbone, where his tank top hangs too loose.

“if i hated you as much as you think…” you say flatly, “you should be grateful i haven’t let your brakes fail yet.”

his tongue clicks, mock-offended. “for someone who says she can’t stand me…” his gaze flickers deliberately to your hands, then lower, lingering before his mouth curls. “you spend an awful lot of time on your knees in front of my car.”

you blink once, slow. “someone has to make sure it doesn’t fall apart mid-race. can’t trust the golden boy to keep it in one piece.”

jeno chuckles behind you, low and amused. “touched a nerve?”

you roll your eyes, brushing sweaty strands from your face. “try touching the engine instead. or is that too technical for you?”

his smirk deepens, the kind that suggests he’s already thought of five comebacks, all of them worse than the last. 

“you always have something to say,” he mutters, and then he’s stepping forward, crowding into your space until your back hits the car’s frame. “always so fucking mouthy.”

your heart skips, pulse sharp in your throat. he’s too close now, close enough to feel the heat coming off his skin.

“you wouldn’t know what to do with me quiet,” you breathe.

his eyes flicker, lingering on your mouth before drifting lower, tracking the slow path of a bead of sweat as it slips just beneath the hollow of your throat. his gaze follows it like it’s got him hooked, then slides to your collarbone, pausing where your coveralls are unzipped just enough to tease. there’s nothing overt, but the gap is a quiet, dangerous invitation. 

jeno tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a challenge. “try me.” his eyes gleam, like red lights about to go green.

you yank your hand back and reach for a rag, but he’s already moving in, eating up the inches between you until there’s nowhere left to go. your back bumps into the nose of the car, the solid warmth of carbon fiber pressing into your hips.

“hmm.” his hum is low, thoughtful, like he’s testing the taste of an idea in his mouth. “you keep standing in front of my car like that…”

his eyes drag over you slowly, deliberate as sin, lingering on the narrow curve of your waist cinched in the coveralls. you can feel the weight of it, how he’s stripping you down without lifting a single zipper.

“…i might just have to fuck you on it.”

the words don’t just land, they settle, thick and heavy in the charged air between you. you’re aware of every inch of your own skin, of the heat curling low in your stomach, of how close his breath is to the corner of your jaw.

you look up slowly, tension flaring like static in your chest. “you’re not funny.”

“i’m not joking.”

before you can answer, he’s on you, closing the last sliver of distance in a blur. his mouth crashes into yours, all heat and arrogance, lips rough and unyielding, tongue sweeping past your teeth with the kind of impatience that tastes like he’s been starving for this. his hand fists in the front of your coveralls, dragging you forward until your spine curves off the car.

then you’re weightless for a moment, his palms gripping the back of your thighs before hoisting you fully onto the hood. the warm metal hums beneath you, vibrating faintly with the residual heat of the engine. his hips slot between your knees like they’ve always belonged there, pressing in with deliberate weight.

his grip on your waist is firm, certain, claiming without needing to bruise. you should push him off. you don’t. instead, your fingers knot into his shirt, dragging him closer until the heat of his chest presses into yours, a hiss tearing from your throat against his mouth.

the kiss is messy, greedy, his teeth catching your lower lip just to hear the sharp breath you let out. the faint tang of motor oil clings to your skin, mixing with the clean burn of his cologne. you can feel the flex of muscle in his shoulders beneath your palms.

his fingers find the zipper at your chest, dragging it down without ceremony, knuckles scraping your ribs as he pushes the fabric off. his palms settle heavy at your hips, thumbs hooking under the cling of your tank top, sliding higher until the skin beneath is bared to the heat of his touch.

he pushes the cotton up, catching the edge of your sports bra, and cups your breast through it, his thumb brushing over the peak in slow, deliberate strokes until your breath stutters. his mouth is already on your neck, biting and dragging, tasting you like he means to leave every second of this encounter printed into your skin.

the next moment, your overalls are shoved down, pooling heavy around your calves. he’s hauling you up again, hands locked under your thighs, forcing your legs around his hips. the hood beneath you is hot enough to sting through your skin, but so is he, every part of him burning, pressing, filling the air until it feels like there’s no oxygen left for anything but him.

his mouth grazes your ear, voice a low rasp against your sweat-slick skin. “you say you hate me,”

“i hate you,” you pant, fingers already tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

he slides a hand between your legs, fingers tracing slow paths through your folds. “then why are you this fucking wet for me?”

“come on, darling… don’t act like i’m the only one who wants this.” he growls, teeth scraping your collarbone. you gasp, desperate hips jerking up into his hand. he grins against your throat.

“knew it.”

without warning, his fingers push inside you, two, deep, fast. your breath catches, shattering in your throat. his other hand locks around your hip, holding you firm, pinning you in place.

your thighs tremble, spreading wide over the car’s warm body. slick with sweat and his touch, your skin tingles. you clutch his shoulders as you grind shamelessly, your moans loud and raw.

“you’re not even trying to hide it,” he pants, palm working your clit in lazy, cruel circles. 

he bites down on your bra strap, yanking it down with his teeth, mouth sealing over your nipple. his tongue circles, rough and demanding, until your head falls back with a soft, helpless moan.

you cry out his name, sharp and urgent in the stillness. he pulls back just enough to hear you. your whimper slips out before you can stop it.

“jeno—”

“say it again.”

you blink. breath shaky. “what?”

“my name.”

there’s no room for games in his tone. his fingers slide out slow just to hear the sound again. you try to chase the friction but he holds you still, smirking.

you clench your jaw, heart pounding.

“say it,” he whispers, voice low and dangerous. “or i’ll leave you like this.”

you hate him. hate how much you want him, how badly. you’d burn this entire garage down if it meant having him.

“…jeno,” you breathe.

with a smudge smirk his suit drops to his hips, revealing skin taut and warm under your greedy hands. your stained palms, press against muscles twitching at your touch. he sucks in a sharp breath when your hand brushes against him through his briefs, already hard, already impatient. then he frees himself, cock flushed and leaking. he wraps a fist around it, slow, deliberate, watching you with eyes wild and blown wide.

you reach for him. but he catches your wrist, voice low and amused. “greedy little thing,” he mutters. “all that attitude. no patience.”

he lines himself up, breath rasping, voice tight.

“fuck,” he breathes, dragging his mouth down your throat, licking the sweat from your skin. “been thinking about this since monaco.”

“you’re disgusting.”

his fingers push your underwear aside, thumb brushing your clit with sinful ease.

“says the one begging to be fucked on this car.”

you don’t answer. you just spread your legs wider.

and then he drives into you, one slow, deep, brutal stroke that steals your breath away. your cry breaks free, raw and unfiltered, as your body arches instinctively, heels digging into the curve of the car beneath you for balance. your hands clutch at the cool metal, searching for something solid to hold onto as the world narrows down to the harsh rhythm of his hips.

he groans low against your skin, his mouth pressing hard to the hollow of your neck, teeth grazing with a hungry edge that makes your pulse spike. each thrust snaps forward with unforgiving force, setting fire to every nerve ending, dragging you deeper into the delicious ache of being claimed.

“i should keep you like this,” he mutters, voice roughening as he moves faster. “bent over this car every time you mouth off.”

the car shifts beneath you, the subtle vibrations resonating through your core with every powerful thrust. nearby, tools rattle softly, forgotten against the storm of sensations overwhelming the garage. his grip slides up your throat, firm but careful, not enough to choke, just enough to claim you, to remind who’s in control.

his thumb presses down, circling your clit in perfect, maddening rhythm with each punishing stroke. the relentless pounding blurs together, sharp and raw, pushing you closer to the edge with every merciless movement.

he fucks you rough, unyielding, the metal groaning under the weight, grease stains trace paths along your thighs, across your stomach, even reaching your jaw where it glistens faintly in the dim light.

you’re stretched thin and stretched wide, every nerve alight, every breath shallow as his body drives into yours without mercy.

“you really gonna come like this?” he pants. “wrapped around me, on top of my fucking car?”

you can’t answer, caught in the haze of sensation. your moans mix with the wet slap of skin and the sting of his teeth on your shoulder. he’s everywhere, burying himself deep again and again until your vision pulses and blurs at the edges.

your whole body tightens, every muscle trembling as the wave builds, cresting with a white-hot explosion of pleasure that crashes through you like static electricity sparking through your veins. heat and sparks ignite behind your eyes, overwhelming and relentless. your cry escapes, raw and desperate, pressed deep against his neck where your lips find skin soft and warm.

that sound, your surrender, is what finally breaks him.

he curses low, the guttural growl vibrating deep in his chest as his fingers dig into your waist with possessive urgency. with one last powerful thrust, he drives deep inside you, his release flooding you in a scorching rush that leaves no space for anything but this moment.

he stays buried, breath ragged and uneven, chest pressed firmly against yours as if trying to steady the wild rhythm of his heartbeat. for a long, heavy moment, you both hang there, breathless, trembling, tethered to the raw aftermath of what just happened.

the garage hums around you. machines, wind, your ragged breath.

jeno slowly pulls back, his fingers dragging a lazy trail over your thigh. both of you still twitch, riding out the tremors of your shared aftershocks. your skin is flushed, your body trembling with the remnants of raw heat, and strands of hair cling damp to your sweat-soaked temple.

then, his voice breaks the quiet, smug, tired.

“bet you thought about this too.”

you hate how true it sounds, how easily your body betrayed every stubborn promise you made. a breathless laugh escapes your lips as you smack his shoulder, sharp and playful.

“fuck you.”

he grins wide, slipping his suit back into place with practiced ease.

“you just did, sweetheart.”

your legs wobble as you slide off the car, thighs glossy, knees weak. he watches you, his expression softened, curious, almost tender beneath that cocky exterior.

“you good?” he asks, quieter this time.

you nod, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

he meets your gaze and nods in return.

neither of you say it out loud, words aren’t necessary, but the unspoken understanding hangs between you like thick engine smoke: 

this won’t be the last time.

[injunism]

heads up, I don’t read many fics anymore unless they’re shipping fics (outside of kpop) so it’s likely I will also reblog those bc they deserve exposure

[injunism]

WHO IS IT ─★ lee haechan

SYNOPSIS: begging you to marry him, haechan promised you the moon, the stars hanging in the sky, and a few hundred million other things. but he never promised you the most important thing — the sun. and after all, that's all you wanted.

or, alternatively ── haechan has a plan of getting his grandmother's inheritance by marrying you, promising you that everything that was about to become his would also become yours. a lavish lifestyle, the liberty of being with other people — but you only wanted him. so what happens when haechan's plan backfires, leaving you both drowning in a sea of uncertainties?

PAIRING: husband!haechan x wife!reader

GENRE: fake marriage!au, marriage of convenience!au, f2l!au, angst, mutual pining, slowburn, smut, cheating!au

FEATURING: [brief appearances of] nct dream, aespa's karina, red velvet's yerim, riize's sungchan

WORD COUNT: 30k words

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut, slowburn, mutual pining, a lot of descriptive scenes (im so sorry). haechan is emotionally constipated, it takes him a billion years to realise some things. haechan is not the best husband, emotional neglect, emotional and physical avoidance. use of alcohol, cheating (mentions of, not actual scenes), smut (only between haechan and reader), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, miscommunication, misunderstandings, rich!haechan, mentions of generational wealth and fraud, riize's sungchan (im sorry pookster), reader has a lot of insecurities and regrets.

NOW PLAYING: who is it by michael jackson

SERIES MASTERLIST: HERE!

Your high heels click on the busy pavement as you make your way through the crowd. The underground ride was hell, surrounded by tired office workers and sweaty tourists, and you just hope that the good odds were on your side and your expensive perfume was still clinging onto your skin and clothes.

When Donghyuck sent you a text earlier in the morning, asking for an urgent meetup at your favourite dinner spot in town — a very busy spot uptown that is, a very busy spot that is very difficult to get into last minute, you knew that it was a serious matter. It was always a bit difficult to get in touch with him, or get a hold of him. He was busy with work, busy with dates, busy with friends, but you knew he always had the softest spot for you, and vice versa. And how could you not, after knowing each other since elementary school? He always found the most random times to be with you — be it on a random Saturday, coming over to your place to watch High School Musical for the nth time, or on a monday at noon taking you out to have lunch together during your lunch break. Or on a thursday for a friendly dinner. Like tonight.��

You know how this is going to go. You’ll take your seats, get your orders taken, eat, chit chat about whatever’s too heavy on his mind for him to keep only to himself. “I’m a man of many secrets,” he once told you, “But somehow you know about ninety-five percent of them,” you can recall the genuine smile he showed you that night a few years ago.

“Hyuck!” You spot him playing nervously with the hem of his jacket, “I’m sorry I’m late, had to go home to change,” you give him a hug, and he keeps you close a few seconds more than he usually does.

“You smell nice,” he pats your back as he reaches for the restaurant door, “Let’s go inside, I’m starving,” 

The atmosphere inside the restaurant brings you a sense of familiarity. The red and brown decor, the dim lightning and the candles around the tables, the faint melody played in a corner by the familiar pianist who also occasionally hums the tune, his fingers touching the keys in a gentle manner. It is so familiar to you, this is your favourite restaurant after all.

“Hate these candles,” Donghyuck grumbles as he opens the menu, setting his eyes on the wine menu. You know he always gets the same three things on rotation, and he always tries to steal food off your plate because your food choices are always the best. 

“So why do we always come back?” You ask him with a smile, handing your menu back to the waiter who takes off with your orders.

“I like that guy,” he points to the pianist in the far corner of the restaurant, “He always plays some Tony Bennett tune,”

“And you like the wine,” you retort, watching as he nervously takes a sip from his glass.

“And I like the wine,” he smiles at you, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which is odd — because he always lets himself go when he is around you. You know his true colours, no need to hide himself from you. 

And yet you wait. You don’t ask him what’s wrong, you don’t ask him what was so urgent to actually meet you for a second time during the week, remembering very well how he took you out for ice cream after work a few days ago. You suppose it’s all about timing, and he’ll know when it’s time to tell you what’s bothering him.

For the duration of the dinner, you see him fidgeting with his fork and knife, looking at you with a glimmer in his eyes yet looking back down to his dorado as soon as you make eye contact with him. He tries to open his mouth a few times to speak, yet he closes it as soon as he notices your head perking up waiting for him to start talking. 

You think you need to take matters into your own hands and force the words out of his mouth until you see him eyeing your brisket.

“Don’t even think about it,” you utter while cutting into the meat on your plate.

“Oh, please,” he cries, setting his knife down, “Just a tiny taste,” he pleads.

“I didn’t ask for a tiny taste of your dorado,” you shrug, chewing on the tiny piece of brisket on your fork. 

“I would have given it to you,” he whines, pointing at you accusingly.

You look at him unimpressed, yet still intrigued. He’s not being annoying about anything tonight, which is very suspicious to you. So instead of trying to get inside his head — which he’ll probably let you do later anyway, you try to make small talk, to appease the tension just a bit. “So, how was that meeting yester-”

“Will you marry me?” He says — no, asks, but in such a gentle whisper that you think your ears are deceiving you. You stop mid-chew to look at him, as if the active action of chewing would ever impair your hearing. If you heard him right, you think it’s a devious, sick joke on his behalf.

“What did you just say?” You ask incredulously, spitting the piece of meat you had been chewing on, in your napkin.

“I said,” he played with the corner of his napkin, that was now sitting on top of the table instead of his lap, “will you marry me?”

“Are you insane?” You bite back, looking at how his energy deflates even more. “Did you fall today? Did you hit your head like that one time in tenth grade?” Your questions keep on flooding the atmosphere between the two of you, and even if your voice is low in volume, he hears you perfectly.

“Listen,” he starts, and you watch as he stops himself from continuing as the waiter comes to retrieve the plates from your table. He holds a finger up in the air, silently telling you to wait, and he asks for another bottle of wine. “I know this is sudden,” he stops when you scoff, setting back into your chair, waiting for him to go on, “But this is an opportunity of a lifetime, for both of us,” he says confidently.

“How so?” He’s impressed by your apathetic tone, he thought you’d be at least a bit more enthusiastic. He’s played all the possible scenarios in his head for the past few weeks, yet these last few days have been the worst. He hasn’t slept much, hasn’t eaten much, hasn’t been able to pay attention to his regular activities and hobbies that much either. The only things on his mind were you, and as disturbing as it may sound, his grandmother.

“I would get to settle down” he points to himself before looking at your annoyed and endearing figure sitting across him at the table, “And you will have the most perfect wedding. Not to mention the fact that you can have all the money you ever dreamed of. Imagine living that lavish lifestyle, buying yourself everything you have to restrain yourself from right now. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He smiles at you like a little devil who’s ready to whisper into your ear all the advantages of his daylight delusions.

“What are you even talking about?” You are truly in disbelief, looking at him being so calm so suddenly, “How would that even be possible?”

Suddenly you are well aware of the reason of his fidgeting, and why he stayed silent for the whole night. He didn’t know how to open his mouth and tell you a bunch of crap without you throwing your plate at his head.

He shushes you, and you scoff at his stupid attempt of trying to make you come to reason. “Grandma Lee’s inheritance,” he explains calmly, playing with the table cloth. 

Your eyes are the size of saucers while looking at him feigning fake innocence. You’re sure this can be categorised as fraud in so many states and countries. The worst way this could go would be this idiot turning you in for attempted fraud and him leaving with all the inheritance he pretends he’s entitled to.��

When you say nothing, just staring at him like he’s grown a second and then a third head, he sighs exasperated, throwing his head back in a sign of annoyance.

“Y/n, you have to hear me out,” Donghyuck pleads, bringing his hands over his face out of frustration. Your eyes fall on his weird and crooked pinky, reminding you of his funny and equally weird childhood story about what had happened for it to become so crooked. So fresh in your mind, you already know it by heart.

“But wouldn’t it be considered — I don’t know…” you make a pause, biting on your nails, “Fraud?”

His eyebrows furrow and then a second later his features relax, yet still being able to hold an unimpressed look in his gaze. He glares at you judgementally, as if asking you if you're stupid. You have the same expression, your gaze holding his, silently asking him who, between the two of you, was the real idiot in this context. Is he stupid for proposing such a plan, or are you the idiot who can’t see anything but the faulty side of his master plan? You try to figure out to what extent it can be considered fraud, promising yourself you’d be looking into this matter later.

“How would this be fraud?” He whines, a few heads turning around to look at the two of you. Certainly, people's ears perked up at the mention of the word fraud, and perhaps Donghyuck’s loud whining had something to do with it too. 

You shush him, “How would it not be considered as such?” You speak through gritted teeth, trying to convey the message to keep his voice down, for his own good. 

You two are having dinner in a nice, uptown restaurant, and you really wish you didn’t have this conversation right here. You were a fool for believing Lee Donghyuck had anything else to say to you except for a stupid idea he had been letting marinate in his pretty head.

“It wouldn’t be,” he insists, “Because anywhere we go we can pass as a loving couple,” he states as matter-of-factly. “Remember that time we scammed the baristas downtown during last year’s Valentine’s Day?”

When you say nothing, only bringing your elbows to rest on the table, he goes on. “Listen, I know for a fact that this is going to be a success. I’ve made plans and took into account all possibilities, and I am my grandma’s favourite grandchild. This is going to work out, trust me” he explains with determination, and you almost believe his words. 

Except, you still have a working left brain. 

“Again,” you sigh, “How is this not a criminal act in your books?” You try to make him come to reason, but he doesn’t want to hear any of it, waving his hands around in an exasperated gesture, “And how do you even know you’re grandma Lee’s favorite? Out of ten grandchildren?” 

“I may have found her will,” he answers immediately, but it comes out more like a question holding a billion uncertainties. Your puzzled expression makes him continue, “When I visited her last year for her birthday, she made me fish for those papers in her home safe. The search for it was very bizarre, like treasure hunting or something, which you’ll realise in a second, it’s very ironic,” he takes a sip of his wine, trying his best to be as serious as possible in order to make you understand how serious he is about this. “She made me look for it in her mansion, giving me easter eggs and hints about where in the house it could be. And when I found it,” his silence lingers for a while, trying to find the best way to tell you the whole story, “This may sound very bizarre, I know, but she even had a riddle for her safe code. I solved it and there was her will, looking right at me. We looked over it together, and she made sure to divide all her assets equally between all her children and grandchildren, except the few hundred million dollars she has to her name.”

You blink once. You blink twice. You double blink for the third time and he scoffs, but quickly recomposes himself, remembering the purpose of telling this whole story, “Y/n, I’m being so serious right now, you have to believe me,” he stops briefly, his fingers drumming on the table following a rhythm only he knows, “In that testament I was the sole heir to her bank account, with that one exception,”

“You need to get married,” you remark.

“I need to get married,” he confirms, laying his hands flat on the expensive cotton tablecloth nicely adorning your dinner table for two. 

Your eyes fall on his crooked pinky once again, your gaze sliding to the finger next to it. The ring finger. You think it could be nice to have a gold band to embellish his beautiful and slender finger. Donghyuck seems to pick up what's going on in your mind, and even if you needed a bit more convincing, he knows you're going to agree to his plan.

And surely, you think, with a few hundred million dollars in your bank accounts, and a man as beautiful as Donghyuck to call your husband, there's nothing that could ever go wrong. Right?

And, before agreeing to his stupid plan, you sceptically make him paint the picture for you. 

“We tell people we’ve been dating for a bit, because we realised we are very much in love,” he explains nonchalantly as he stabs his lava cake with his tiny dessert fork. 

“I genuinely think you’re deranged. You lost the plot to your own scenario,” he looks at you all worried, a smudge of chocolate in the left corner of his mouth. His stupid big brown eyes looking into your raging ones, not understanding the accusations you’re bringing him. “How would you explain this to people? To the boys?” You set your tiramisu aside, knowing damn well he’ll make an attempt to slide the tiny dessert plate across the table and devour the sweet treat. He scoffs once again, as if you’re the one being the ridiculous one here, but he stops himself from letting any word out, letting you continue rambling on about your concerns. “Hyuck,” you start, setting your hands flat on the table, just like he did before, “I think you’re forgetting something. People know you sleep around,”

“Slept,” he retorts, raising a finger in the air as to accentuate his statement, “Haven’t slept with anyone in a while, couldn’t bring myself to, knowing I’ll soon be a married man,”

When you say nothing for the nth time this evening — out of disbelief this time, he’s sure — he goes on, “I told you I already thought of every single scenario and possibility. We’re childhood friends, it won’t be that hard for people to fall for the story of how we realised we’re made for each other. We tell them we kept it a secret for our own good, we tell them we’re madly in love with each other and that we got engaged. We get married, and I want you to think about this, Y/n, let me paint the picture for you,” he says, raising his hands in front of his figure to make a rectangle in the air, “You get to have the dream ceremony I know you’ve always dreamed of, with a big and beautiful bouquet, and the most expensive and show stopping wedding dress. Your veil will cost more than double my suit and your shoes will have rocks more expensive than my car. We then move in for a bit in my — or your apartment, until grandma Lee passes, which by the way,” he stops to raise a hand in the air, as if to assure you, “Will be pretty soon, judging by the medical report I found in her bedroom a bit back. We then buy a house bigger than Brad and Angelina’s mansion. Think of it, Y/n, we could be the new Brangelina. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He slides your tiramisu across the table and excitedly sticks his forks into it, then looks at you with a glimmer in his gaze.

His plan could have been far worse than this, you think, yet the faint reminder of the fact that the two of your are going to be in a marriage is slightly terrifying to you. You always thought you’d get married to someone you had feelings for, whom you loved, and while certainly you do love Donghyuck in a very confined way, you’re sure that it is within the bounds of a lifetime long friendship, in which the both of you have gotten to know each other almost perfectly.

He sees you getting too much into your own head, and snaps his fingers right in front of your nose, like he’s always done since you were children. “What’s bothering you?” He asks, his tone genuine.

“What about…” you bite your lip, too afraid of hearing something you don’t really want to be hearing, and you’re not sure what kind of answer you’re trying to avoid. “What about dating?” You finally ask, and he waves his hand to dismiss your worries.

“Don’t worry about it,” he goes back to the tiramisu he’s put aside when he saw your concerned scowl, “Unless our families and friends find out about our dates, we’re free to see whoever we please and like,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, straightening your posture.

And then you see him, grinning at you like he’s the devil, “So what’d you say?” He stands up slowly from his chair across the table, and just as slowly he reaches for something in the right pocket of his slacks while still grinning.

And before you can actually register what is about to happen, you see him sprinting to reach your side, kneeling down in front of you and opening a stupid, black suede small box that — you think once he opens it to reveal its content to you — holds the Hope Diamond. 

“Y/N,” he says your name, and you make a very big effort to tear your gaze away from the ring inside the small box he’s holding, “Will you marry me?”

And with a Tony Bennett tune in the background, with a diamond as big as your fist, and a man as handsome as Donghyuck kneeled in front of you, a man who’s promised you the world just a few minutes back, how could you ever refuse?

“Yes, yes I will”

“You’re what?” Chenle and Mark scream simultaneously, sitting in pure shock on the carpeted floors of Jaemin’s apartment. 

You glared at Donghyuck, who was standing next to you, looking all offended by his friends. He grabbed your hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. His fingers interlocked with yours, “I said,” he showed your hand to his friends, “We’re getting married,” his eyes softened while looking at you. Dang it, he’s a very good actor, you thought.

“How- how did this happen?” Mark stutters, his voice cracking. Chenle reaches for your hand to look at your engagement ring, and his eyes bulk out of their orbits. 

“What the fuck, Hyuck?” He glared between you and Donghyuck, his friends, and the rock on the ring. “Did you guys see the size of this rock?”

“Yes, whatever, it’s the size of your head,” Donghyuck rolled his eyes, and you don’t have time to giggle at his joke as he pulls you gently by the arm towards the empty loveseat. You sit on it, and he pulls a chair close to your seat.

You look around at his friends. The energy in the room fluctuates and changes based on who you look at, Mark being still in shock, Chenle keeps looking at your hand, Jeno congratulates you, and Jaemin's displaying a huge grin that’s plastered on his face. The different reactions feel overwhelming to you, and you imagine how bad it will be when you break the news to your and Donghyuck’s families if his friends reacted this way.

“I knew it, you guys,” Jaemin claps his hands and shakes his shoulders in excitement, “I knew you guys were together!” He cheers, looking around the room, encouraging the others to join his happiness.

Donghyuck averts his eyes and clears his throat, fidgeting a bit in his seat. “Yeah, we were meant to be,” 

“But how long have you guys been together?” Jeno asks with caution, his eyes a bit lost as he lets you know his curiosity and concerns.

“A few months,” you reply, “but we’ve known each other for so long that we feel we’ve been together forever,” you explain, moving your hand. You smile, amused noticing Chenle’s eyes still looking at your hand, straight at your engagement ring.

“It’s been a bit,” Donghyuck says, “Right after Y/n’s birthday party,” he smiled, his hand reaching behind you to pat your back, which made you straighten your posture immediately. The sudden contact, his warm hand burning its print on your back. The nerves and stress of breaking the news of your supposed engagement to the people you care the most for makes a light shimmering coat of sweat veil your skin. You recompose yourself quickly, not expecting the sudden contact.

You look at the people around the room. Except for Chenle, who’s still looking at your hand and then at Mark who’s still shocked by the sudden news, Jaemin is the only one who beams with joy. 

“We’re very happy for you,” Jeno brings a hand to his chest, reaching forward in his seat as he tries to get closer to you and your supposed fiancé, “It’s just that it’s very sudden news,” 

“Extremely happy,” Mark comments, smiling at you and then looking at his best friend, “It’s weird that we didn’t notice,”

“Talk for yourself,” Jaemin barks back with an upset tone, which makes you burst out laughing, “I’ve been plotting and scheming for a very long time,” he shuts up as soon as Donghyuck glares at him. He smiles back at his friend, and then he winks at you with a knowing smile.

 Out of all of Donghyuck’s friends, you felt Jaemin and Chenle to be the closest to you. They were his friends from college, and you met them countless of times during the last few years and for occasional meet ups, but you definitely felt that Chenle and Jaemin were your friends too. Mark was awkward at times, but he always took care of you whenever Donghyuck left the club with some lady hanging off his arm, leaving you behind in the club with his friends. Jeno always lets you win during game nights. While Donghyuck tries everything in his power to cheat at every game and to corrupt Jaemin and Mark to join him in his cheating, sometimes even trying to bribe you to give him a property that he really needed while playing Monopoly, Jeno always lets you win, even helps you sometimes just to see Donghyuck’s cheeks lose all color when he realised he lost the games.

“Y/n?” Donghyuck touches your back once again, the sudden and unexpected  physical contact making you jump slightly — once again. You look at him and you realise you blacked out for a bit, lost deep in your own thoughts about the guys. Realising you weren’t paying attention to him, he repeats himself, “Monopoly tonight?”

You looked around the room at the guys sitting around you with hopeful looks, and you agree before your brain can register completely. You would never ever pass on the occasion of beating Donghyuck at games, or at anything in life, especially now that you’re getting married.

You look around yourself, around the street, you look around at the people passing you by on the pavement. The still cold days of march make you zip your jacket up, your cheeks rosy and your nose and ears freezing even if the sun is out and hitting all the buildings around you. You rub your hands together in a pathetic attempt to warm yourself up, trying to calm the terrible feeling you have in your guts.

“Hey,” your head snaps to the side as soon as you hear Renjun’s voice, and you hug him tightly as you take a good look at him. Bucket hat low on his forehead, covering his eyes, you wouldn’t even recognise him if you didn’t know the timbre of his voice. “Are we waiting for the girls here?” He asks looking around, and when you nod he gets closer to where you’re standing on the pavement. 

“Are you cold?” You ask, hugging his figure once again and rubbing your hands on his arms, hoping the friction will be enough for him to bear the cold a little bit longer. 

He nods, zipping his jacket up to his chin and wrapping his wool scarf around his neck trying to find some comfort. You look at him, still hugging him, and you really wish you could tell him everything that’s on your mind, everything that’s happened in your life in the past few weeks. But for the integrity of your and Donghyuck’s plan you have to keep your lips sealed. 

Apart from Donghyuck, who’s your childhood and oldest friend, Renjun is the second closest. You met him in college right before you met Yerim, and you instantly clicked with each other as soon as you complained about the mess in the kitchen at the dorms. You started as fellow complainers, you then met each other in the communal lounge downstairs while studying, and then you kept looking for each other whenever you weren’t too busy being with Donghyuck. He met Donghyuck in your kitchen while the latter was making your ramen, and Renjun complained about the mess. 

“So you’re the one who makes the mess?” He was close to bursting a vein, trying his best not to kick the unknown man out of the dorm’s kitchen.

“Oh, hi” like a deer in highlights he turned around, scared by Renjun’s tone, before taking a good look at the guy in front of him, “You must be Renjun,” he cheered, changing hands holding the spatula and extending the newly free hand to Renjun, “Y/n told me everything about you, I think her exact words were ‘to look out for that Renjun’ guy,” 

Renjun looked at him, his eyes bulking out of his orbits, “You know Y/n?” He asked incredulous, thinking that you could never be friends with such a messy person such as Donghyuck, “And by the way, she would never say that about me,”

“She’s my bestfriend,” Donghyuck answered before turning his attention back to the ramen pot sitting on the stove. “And don’t worry, the mess was already clinging to these walls way before I came by today,” And in all fairness, Donghyuck is a very clean person, a very clean man. Talk about the advantages of growing up close to a clean freak like yourself. “By the way, I’m Donghyuck, I live in the dorm just around the corner,” 

“Oh,” Renjun mumbled, setting his own pots and pans on the second stove, “I’ve heard about you,” Donghyuck’s eyes lit up as soon as he heard the words coming out of Renjun’s mouth, delighted knowing that he’s someone you go around talking to other people about.

And since that moment you three stuck together. Donghyuck’s proximity to your and Renjun’s dorm, and the fact that he actually met the guy while cooking for you in your kitchen, meant he was always with you, joint at the hip, sometimes to Renjun’s dismay, because he thought Donghyuck was one of the most annoying guys he’s met. And then from your second year in college, the three of you moved in together in a shared apartment just outside campus and, although you became a trio, you’ve always been transparent about your friendship with the guys. What you and Donghyuck had was different from your friendship with Renjun, and the two of them hung out without you as well. It’s just your dynamic, and Renjun has always agreed to this, even if Donghyuck was a little jealous and possessive of your friendliness at times. As soon as you showed Renjun a little bit more attention, Donghyuck stole you away for a whole week. But it was always fine, it was never a problem for Renjun, for reasons you’ve never spent too much time worrying about.

You’re pulled out of your own thoughts by the two girls that approach you loudly, and Renjun sighs while shivering in your arms, “Fucking finally,”

“Why didn’t you guys wait inside?” Karina asks after you’re done with hugging everyone, “Couldn’t you guys get a table? Usually it’s pretty empty at this hour in the morning,”

“Wait,” you pull Yerim’s sleeve when she tries to make her way inside the cafeteria, smiling sheepishly as they look at you confused. “I know I invited you here today, but that’s not really where we’re going,” you explain, rubbing your hands together.

“So why are we here?” Karina mumbles confused, looking at the other two.

You point at the bridal boutique just across the street from where the coffee shop is, and their eyes follow the direction you’re pointing at, their heads snapping back to look at you, so harshly that you wonder how on earth they didn’t get whiplash.

“You’re kidding…” Yerim laughs so loudly that a few people’s heads turn around, 

“Right?” Renjun’s uncertain tone makes you fidget on the spot.

Averting your gaze, you cross the street to reach the bridal shop, and your friends look at each other, still hoping for you to turn around and tell them you’re joking. 

By the time they decide to follow you inside the shop, you’re already drinking from a glass of champagne and discussing about your dream wedding gown.

“You have to be kidding me,” Renjun mumbles as soon as one of the assistants comes over with a tray of champagne flutes.

“How are we here,” Karina downs the whole flute as soon as they take a seat on the expensive white sofas waiting for you to come out wearing whatever dress you discussed with the assistant you wanted. 

“I think we skipped a few chapters,” Yerim sighs contemplatively and looks at Renjun who’s visibly shaken. Out of the three of them, Renjun’s the one that looks like he got hit by a bus. He doesn’t even understand why he’s sitting where he’s sitting right now.

“Last time I asked, she was saying she’s not seeing anyone special,” he mutters more to himself, but the two girls hear him nonetheless, “I don’t get it,”

And then you come out from the little room at the end of a narrow corridor, all three of your friends shut their mouths as you show them the best dresses that you’ve picked up while they were deciding if they needed to follow you inside, or if they should just laugh it off and walk to the nearest bar because it was a joke. It was a reality check for all three of them, and while the doubts and shock was still in the back of their minds and ready to resurface at any given moment during your dress fitting, ah’s and oh’s and sniffles filled the room while complimenting you.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing someone,” Karina spills out, having already downed three champagne flutes.

“I really don’t know how to feel about you getting married to a total stranger,” Yerim sniffles, the feeling of betrayal suffocating her. 

You sigh, looking at your reflection in the mirror while touching your silky dress, and all your curves and edges, “He’s not really a stranger,” you whisper while looking at their reflection in the big mirror.

Renjun pushes himself forward, eyes as big as the rock on your engagement ring, which you purposefully left at home so as to not receive any questions as soon as you met your friends. He takes a moment to think of all the men in your life, your exes, your situationships. “Oh, dear heavens,” he touches the bridge of his nose as he looks at your reflection in the big mirror and then straight into your eyes, and something in his gaze tells you he’s gotten a faint idea of who it might be.

“What did she say?” Karina nearly screams into Yerim’s ears, the flutes making her lose all sense of volume.

You repeat yourself, “He’s not a stranger, you know him very well,” you look at the three of them, and you can feel Renjun’s eyes burn holes in the beautiful wedding dress you have on. “It’s Hyuck,” you whisper, not sure if they heard you.

Judging by Karina’s head snapping to her right to look at the others’ reactions, and by Yerim’s gasp, you can appreciate that they did indeed hear you.

“Hyuck as in Donghyuck?” Yerim makes sure you didn’t possibly meet a new Donghyuck in the span of a few weeks, “How did this happen?”

“How? That’s your concern?” Renjun pulls her by her arm, turning her to face him, “Your main concern should be when! When did this happen?” He addresses you.

“We’ve known each other for a very long time,” you start, “We were meant to be,” you hope Donghyuck’s bullshit excuses and scenarios reach your friends’ hearts, out of love for you. You know it sounds pathetic, the whole childhood friends to lovers fiasco, but you hope they won’t need more explaining regarding this, considering your and Donghyuck’s dynamics. 

And as your biggest nightmare comes to reality, Renjun scoffs. And you recall telling Donghyuck just a few day ago that Renjun is going to be the one who needs the most convincing out of every other friend you two have. “Just stick to the answers I came up with, and he’ll buy it. If there’s anything Renjun cherishes more than his bickering with me, then that’s his friendship with you. He’ll buy it in the end, trust me.” And when you look at him bewildered, because you never thought of accepting such an explanation from him, he sighs and wraps an arm around you, walking you through the whole scenario again, “Tell him we’ve been together for a few months, I told you I love you blah blah blah. Stick to the scenario. Stick to the plan, Y/n” he cupped your face, swiftly kissing your forehead like he always does when you’re sick with worries, since the age of eight.

And so you do, you stick to the plan, to all the lines Donghyuck has instructed you to use, and while you play with your fingers all nervous and with trembling voice, you hope your friends are buying all of whatever bullshit you’re selling them.

“I knew this would happen,” Renjun claps his hands together as he looks at his two other friends sitting beside him on the small sofa, “I knew this would happen as soon as he ditched our study session at the library years ago just to spend time with you, when he found out some idiot didn’t show up to your date and you needed comforting,” this time he looks at you, straight into your soul, and you hope that he won’t be able to pick up whatever bullshit Donghyuck has fed you to convince you to agree to his plan. “You two are idiots”, he retorts.

And yes, you think so too. You couldn’t agree more. You and Donghyuck are idiots indeed, especially you. You, who’s willing to jeopardise decades of friendship just to make him happy, just to feel a bit validated by him. You still don’t want to admit the deeper reason of your agreeing, and you hope you’ll be able to ignore it and bury it deep into the back of your mind.

“But,” he sighs once again, and you’ve only heard Renjun sigh this many times when Donghyuck was insisting on having a bet and the loser would kiss the opponent if he felt like doing it, knowing damn well Donghyuck was going to purposefully bet on something that would turn out to be completely wrong and lose in Renjun’s favour just to kiss him, “I’ll admit that you’re very beautiful wearing that dress,” he points his head at your dress.

“You think so?” You beam and stand on your tippy toes, turning around to look at your own reflection in the huge mirror, using your hand to call one of the assistants over.

All three of your friends agree, and a drunk Karina even starts clapping, cheering you on. 

“I can’t imagine the amount of stress you’re under with all the wedding preparations,” Yerim hugged you as soon as you stepped foot out of the boutique.

“I’m not,” you smile bashfully at your friends, “Hyuck suggested we should get a wedding planner,” 

“Hyuck suggested,” Renjun imitates you with a mocking tone, already sick of your wedding talk after spending half a day looking for dresses for you, and bridesmaids dresses for your two friends.

“Are you going to act like this forever? I’m not even married to him yet,” you say with an incredulous laugh.

“For as long as you’re married to him,” he feigns fake innocence, and you only smile back, but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, because you’re not sure how long that’s going to be. You never discussed this with Donghyuck, and Renjun has given you something to stay up all night mulling over. 

You really don’t know how long it’s going to last, or what the whole outcome of it will be, but you can only hope for it to last for the longest of times.

Telling your parents about your engagement was easy. They loved Donghyuck, and he’s been around you since childhood, in and out of your house like it was his own. Your mother always kept a spare place at the table because ever since he was a child, he was unpredictable. Your mom took care of him whenever he wanted to sleep over, she cooked for him whatever it was he was craving, packed him his lunchbox whenever he stayed over and the following day was a school day, his own lunchbox that he personally chose when your mom took the two of you to the store, him choosing one with Crayon Shin-chan plastered on its lid, and you decided on a MyMelody one. Your dad never understood why he was hanging around your house so often, and then Donghyuck came on your family trip to the seaside when he was eleven, and he could see the dynamic of your friendship. 

So when you broke the news to your parents, they were elated, they loved Donghyuck and couldn’t be happier to have him officially as part of the family in a few months.

Which couldn’t be said about Donghyuck’s parents. They liked you, and they trusted your family enough to allow their child to enter your home, and consequently, to spend all his free time there with you. But there was a line that should have never been crossed, and Donghyuck did when he proposed marriage to you, of all people. Donghyuck comes from a wealthy family, in which generational wealth was at the day’s order. Most, if not all relationships were transactional, but both parties were wealthy, and they both brought wealth into the marriage. Which couldn’t be said about you, because you didn’t grow up rich. You grew up in a normal family, you never lacked anything, but sure enough your parents couldn’t afford to change cars ever so often every time they pleased. And it was a problem for Donghyuck’s family. 

“Can’t they oppose to our marriage or something?” You asked Donghyuck after the two of you left his parents’ house, after Donghyuck broke the news to them while holding your ringed hand up for them to see the engagement ring, and consequently had a fight with his mother right in front of you.

Your confidence wasn’t the highest in that moment, let’s just put it this way.

“Don’t really care,” he frowned, taking your hand in his as the other was holding the steering wheel tightly, “The only approval I need is grandma Lee’s,” he mumbled stopping at the red light, “And she loves you,”

The look in his eyes sent shivers down your spine, making you swallow the lump in your throat, and you remember that feeling so well even if it’s been a few months since.

And now, looking at your feet, the point of your shoes slightly visible from under your long silky dress, you hold on tightly to your bouquet made entirely of Casablanca lilies. 

Your head tilts a bit from behind the partition keeping you safe from the eyes of all your guests, curious as ever to see you walking down the aisle. 

You spot Donghyuck’s family sitting reluctantly on the right side of the church, his side, while looking around themselves with judgement. You’re starting to believe something bad is bound to happen when no one can reach Karina, who’s also one of your bridesmaids, and you’re also starting to regret your decision of agreeing to this plan when you hear people whispering as if you’re not standing a few feet away from them, albeit hidden by a flimsy partition. 

“Where’s Karina?” You start to panic, thinking to yourself that this is a sign. This is a sign that this wedding should not happen.You made it clear in the past few months that you want your ceremony and celebratory party to be perfect, especially because Donghyuck’s family decided to attend, and even if you knew they considered you not to be the perfect bride for their son, you could at least show them a perfect ceremony. Which Karina is fumbling really badly right now.

“She said she’s on her way,” Renjun tries to calm you down, straightening the veil on your back so as to not have any creases. 

“When did she say that?” You grabbed him by the shoulders, your nails hurting his skin even through the fabric of his suit jacket, “Oh my god, Renjun if you’re lying to me-” you’re interrupted by Yerim grabbing your hands, freeing Renjun from your grasp.

“You have to calm down,” Yerim pleads, shaking you slightly. “You need to relax, you’ll walk down this aisle and you need to be your best self,” she grabbed your cheeks lightly, and she resists the urge of kissing you on the cheek because she doesn’t want to ruin your makeup. You look so beautiful right now, even if you’re panicking out of your mind.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Karina’s heels clatter on the marbled floors of the entrance, adjusting her dress which was already starting to crease as she almost started running towards you, “I’m so sorry,” she looks embarrassed, holding the little bouquet Yerim hands over to her.

You let out a sharp exhale, instructing Renjun to go ahead and start the ceremony. Yerim smiles to you and reaches behind you to grab your veil, and gently lets it lay on your front. You hear the piano playing, immediately recognising the tune being played. You remember the day you were supposed to choose the music for the wedding march, when Donghyuck grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the huge shelf of music in front of you.

“I know I said this was going to be your dream wedding,” Donghyuck starts, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “but I have a request to make,” when you nod, he continues, “Can I be the one to choose the music?”

His request took you aback, never expecting him to want to be involved in wedding preparations for a marriage that was purely transactional. To him at least. 

“Of course,” you had said, nodding and he knew you were being genuine by the look in your eyes, so big and sparkly, a clear sign of your sincerity. “This is your wedding too, Hyuck,” you smiled at him and he felt a lump in his throat as soon as he registered your words. 

He smiled back, and went for the exit of the music shop, but you stopped him by grabbing him tightly, “Just don’t pull any kind of Elvis or Hamilton crap in front of your family,” you retorted, serious as ever, to which he smirked.

“Elvis? Costello or Presley?” He joked, and you hoped he was only being annoying like he always is, and not serious. Seeing your sour face, he put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side into a tight embrace, “Oh come on, Y/Nnnie” he whined, and you kicked him as soon as you see pairs of eyes looking at the two of you, “Don’t you want to be part of a little musical act as you walk down the aisle? Like they did in ‘The Office’?” He whispered in your ear, and you can feel the annoying smile in his tone. He kisses your cheek, holding you even tighter, and you can feel shivers down your spine. Before you can react, you feel the arm that was holding you before, loosening its hold on you. 

“I’m being serious, Hyuck,” you began, but he started sprinting past you and out of the record store. “Wait!” You screamed, trying to catch him, “I’m serious! I have rocks with your name written on them, and they’re begging to be thrown at your head!”

You heard him giggle as he picked up his pace, trying to escape your loud mouth. 

And now, hearing the tune the piano starts playing, you understand what it was that he wanted. You immediately recognise Tony Bennett’s tune playing, and you think Donghyuck bagged his favourite pianist to play at his wedding, the one who works at your favourite restaurant downtown, the grace of his fingers unmistaken.

You hear heels clattering, and you know that Donghyuck is being taken down the aisle by grandma Lee, who vehemently insisted to be the one to walk her favourite grandchild on such a great day. And you’re surprised his mother didn’t bat an eye, but you know that’s for the best.

“Go! Go!” You whisper shout to Yerim to start walking down the aisle, and she holds her bouquet tighter in front of her, taking steps one by one.

When you go closer to where the aisle begins, you quickly look around the church, noticing the familiar faces sitting around, waiting for you to make your entrance before they stand up. You see Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin standing behind Donghyuck, whilst his other friends are sitting in the second row, allowing Hyuck’s family to sit in the first. You catch a quick glimpse of Renjun standing on your side, waiting for Karina and Yerim to join him, yet you feel a knot of uncertainty setting deep into your guts and stomach, and when you see Karina taking a few steps down the aisle, you take a few steps out of instinct and grab her forearm, dragging her back to where you were waiting to make your entrance.

“Y/n?” Karina whispers surprised, eyes the size of saucers, swaying a bit trying to regain balance after you drag her after yourself. “Y/n,” she insists, “What is it, sweetie?”

You grab your veil, yet still with care because you don’t want to damage it in any kind of way, and you bring it behind you head, because you feel the need to talk to Karina face to face, not hiding behind any type of fabric.

You look at the guests behind Karina’s back, or at what you can see of them since Karina is obstructing most of your view. 

“I- I don’t think I can do this,” you whisper, skeptical, and Karina thinks she’s never seen your eyes this big in size.

“What?” Karina tilts her head, not understanding where this doubt is coming from. 

But she isn’t in your head, she can’t hear your thoughts, and most certainly she doesn’t know on what grounds this wedding is happening. Everything is an illusion, a lie, and you feel the sweat starting to cling to the skin of your neck. As months passed, you really started to believe all of Donghyuck’s delusions, and all the lies, and all the endless conversations and discussions you two had about his masterplan, which unfortunately started to make sense to you as well. It was like the blind leading the blind. 

And up to this point, seeing yourself wearing expensive accessories and an even more expensive wedding gown, seeing everyone who’s believed your lies sitting excitedly as they’re waiting for you to make your entrance, hearing the melody of the piano playing one of Donghyuck’s favourite songs of one of his favourite artists, it hits you. And it hits you hard, and you can feel your eyes swelling with tears. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Karina insists as she understands that she has a panicked bride on her hands. Not only a panicked bride, but a room full of whispering guests that start to grow more and more curious as they sense something is going on with the bride. And how can we forget the groom, who’s nervously biting his bottom lip as he looks at his grandmother sitting in the first seat, on the first row on his side. 

“I can’t do this, Karina. This,” you move your hand around, pointing at the church and all the decorations, including your outfit and hers, “this is all wrong. Very wrong,” you whisper, and Karina’s impressed by your eyes not diminishing in size.

“But why, honey?” She presses, “Donghyuck loves you” she caresses your bare arm, her other hand holding the small bouquet stiffly. “And you love him too,” she’s trying really hard to calm you down, as she notices you trying to swallow what she thinks is a lump in your throat. “You do, don’t you?” She inquires when she notices that you keep looking towards a spot behind her back.

And truthfully, you do. And maybe that’s what’s scary to you. Marrying someone you love so deeply, but who’s only marrying you out of convenience. You love Donghyuck for all his flaws and faults, his annoying side, his bugging, his cold facade, but you also love him because, well, it’s him. You’ve grown up with him by your side, and you realise you made him your ideal type, influenced by his permanent presence and knowing everything about him. And how unfair is it, realising someone is marrying you as part of a fraudulent plan?

You look at Karina, nodding. “I do, I do love him so much,”

“Then what’s the problem?” Karina asks once again, seeing your eyes brimming with tears. When you don’t say anything back, Karina starts crossing her legs, fidgeting where she's standing. She looks behind herself, discreetly, as to sense the vibes filling the room. The few last rows of guests already turned around to look at the two of you, asking themselves if this ceremony is ever going to even start. “Listen, sweetie,” she reaches for you once more, grabbing you by your forearm trying to assure you, “Who cares about this ceremony, anyway?” She waves her hand around trying to convey assurance, although she’s scared shitless of what you might do and how this day could end. 

“You don’t have to do this. We can get a cab outside and go away, if that’s what you want. You don’t need to get married today, who cares?”

You gulp, looking behind her to the waves of faces and heads wondering what’s going on. You spot grandma Lee’s head, who’s throwing questioning looks at you and her nephew, although you’re sure she can’t really see you thanks to Karina’s figure standing in front of you. And then you spot him, Donghyuck, tilting his head to look at you, trying to see you even with Karina obstructing his view. And his curious eyes meet your scared ones, and you gulp once more. 

“Hyuck,” you whisper, trying to compose yourself as you break eye contacting with him, “Hyuck cares. And I do too,” you conclude, grabbing your veil fast, bringing it to cover your head and face once again. “I am getting married today,”

You use your hand to make Karina spin around, gently pushing her forward. 

“Psst, Karina” you whisper shout, using a hand to move the veil a bit from your face so your eyes meet hers once again, “Do not say a word to Yeri and Renjun. Now go! Go!” You usher her to walk in front of you.

You look at your feet once again, and you touch the expensive, silky dress clinging nicely to your waist and bust, and then at the bouquet of Casablanca lilies you’re holding tightly in your hands. And yes, while wearing your expensive Vivienne Westwood dress, and walking down the aisle to The shadow of your smile, you are going to get married to who you think is indeed, the love of your life. 

The first few months were milk and honey. Your dynamic didn’t change much, except for the fact that you were sharing a bed permanently. You’ve always shared a bed while growing up and consequently in your adult years too, yet now it’s different. You can look at him in his usual white tee and large pyjama shorts that show the tanned skin of his thighs and it dawns on you that he is your husband. Your husband. And all the times he wears his expensive watch before going to work in the morning, your eyes skip to his fingers, searching for his wedding ring out of instinct. He always wears it. You’ve never seen him taking it off in the past eight months, which can’t be said about you. You took it off every time you were cleaning around or washing the dishes.

Three months after your wedding ceremony, grandma Lee passed, and Donghyuck’s fraudulent plan came to a successful end. Donghyuck bought you a house, took you on holidays around the world, gave you anything you wanted and everything he thought you deserved. And he did all this while wearing the wedding ring. Donghyuck could see the dreamy look in your eyes, but he never looked too much into it, thinking it was all about the hundred million dollars you were now sharing between the two of you. You were still the same Y/n, and he was still the same Donghyuck, except for the fat bank accounts and the sharing of the bed.

To Donghyuck, sharing a bed wasn’t that big of a deal. He’s slept on the same surface as you multiple times before, the only thing that’s changed now was the fact that the two of you were legally bound, and he actually liked being able to say that he was married to you, and that you are his wife. People never expected him to even be in a relationship, and never expected someone as beautiful as you to get married this young, and he found it hilarious.

“I like being married to you,” he says, chewing on a piece of steak he grilled in the back garden.

You seem taken aback by his words, blinking a few times before clearing your throat, “You do?”

“Yes,” he smirks. That stupid smirk that you hate because you know he’s about to say something annoying, but love at the same time because it’s his smirk. “We’re still the same, we’re still us,” he swallows the bite, “except you’re my wife, and that isn’t so bad,” he smirks again and you have no idea where this conversation is going. He’s a bit tipsy, having already opened a second bottle of red wine, and except the two glasses you had for yourself, the remaining alcohol is in his system. “Why wait and date around to get married, when we’re right here? I have you and you have me, we’re locked in for life, baby,” 

You feel a lump in your throat, and you’re not sure if it’s because he might have just promised you eternity by his side, or the fact that he’s just admitting to be settling for you instead of trying to go after someone he might actually love.

But you agreed to this, to the life he’s promised you. When you looked into his mischievous eyes once he kneeled down in front of you, you knew what you were getting into. Putting your feelings aside, being able to call Donghyuck yours even if he wasn’t anything more than the childhood friend you grew to love in a different way than the way he claimed he loved you back. The casual ‘be careful, love you’s you two threw in at the end of phone calls or when saying goodbye after school became to you much more than what they became to Donghyuck. But the gleam of hopefulness he’s always held in his gaze as he said he believed in you, as he tried to coerce you into committing fraud, as he promised you the moon, the stars, and everything else hanging in the sky, it really made you believe that you could have it all. If this all meant having Donghyuck next to you for the next years, decades, then it was all worth it.

And your routine as a married couple becomes just that, a routine. Waking up in the morning, making breakfast, and then he leaves for work because, unlike you, he still kept a job. And then you don’t know how to make time pass faster until he comes back home, to you. You fill your time with shopping sprees and activities you’ve never thought you would be picking up —  going to the spa and playing tennis every other day. The months pass and you’re not sure how your life has become so boring. Before, you really had it all and you didn’t even realise. A job, your own apartment, your own car that Donghyuck got rid of after the two of you got married, just to gift you another one. You used to hang out with your friends multiple days a week, now it’s a miracle if you see them once every two weeks. Moving to a mansion at the outskirts of the city isolated you, and you relied on Donghyuck for all the support you needed. 

As for your relationship with him, there really isn’t much to say. Nothing has changed, except that he seems to be less annoying, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already become too used to him and his personality since the wedding happened. At first, you travelled together for your honeymoon, and you swear you were on the brink of divorcing him, but that annoying feeling has subsided considerably, and you have a faint idea of the reason why that is.

And then, you start to notice Donghyuck doesn’t come home for dinner time that often anymore. Hell, you could say that it’s a miracle if he comes home on time for dinner at least two days a week. Most times, he comes home too late and has to eat alone, while talking to you about his day and what his plans for the following day are. Other times, he goes straight to take a shower, telling you he’s not hungry and that he’ll take a bite of what you’ve cooked in the morning instead.

And tonight, it’s both. He promised he’d be back on time for dinner and then High School Musical marathon on your big flat screen tv. But the dinner has run cold, you’ve already taken a shower, and by the time you hear Donghyuck’s keys open the heavy front door, you’ve already played the first two films.

“Honey I’m hom-”, he’s interrupted by a gasp, and you can hear his heavy footsteps run down the hallway to the living room, “Did you really start without me?” He whines, and you almost cannot believe your ears.

“Please tell me you’re not serious right now, Hyuck,” you warn, looking at him.

Donghyuck looks at you, at your figure, at your eyes. You’re looking at him, and there’s something in your gaze that, for the first time in years, he can’t decipher. Your eyes are sleepy, almost droopy, a clear sign of your tiredness. Or maybe you’re just disappointed and tired of him.

He plops down next to you, looking at you apologetically, and the action makes you jump on your spot on the couch. “I’m an idiot,” he whispers.

“You are,” you agree, nodding your head as you return your attention to the high screen in front of your figures.

“Are you mad at me?” He tests the waters, and it only makes you want to punch his face more.

“Why would I be mad?” You scoff, bringing your legs to your chest, an action he knows you do when you try to avoid confrontation.

“You’re not looking at me, Y/n” he mumbles, and it makes you roll your eyes. He knows you too well. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot. I just lost track of time,” he tries to explain to you, but honestly you don’t care. 

You think your blood pressure has gone through the roof when your ears start ringing and your palm is itching to be smacked against his face. 

“Doing what?” You ask, and if looks could kill, Donghyuck is sure he’d be in great agony right now, just about there, on the verge of dying. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since he plopped down next to you, and Donghyuck knows better than talking nonsense and making you even angrier, because you always smell his bullshit a mile away.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises again, trying to dodge your question, “Was with the boys out for dinner,” he pouts, “I promise we can spend as much time together as we used to once I’m done with this project at work. Kiss and make up?” He tries one of his oldest tricks on you. Ever since elementary school, every time you were upset with him he would pull this stunt on you. The upset one being kissed on the cheek in a sweet and childish attempt to make things better with a gesture of intimacy neither you nor Donghyuck liked showing to other people. Only to each other. 

And his attempt to make you at least slightly less upset with him is successful when the corners of your mouth turn upright just slightly. So he leans in, successfully invading your personal space, his head mere centimetres away from yours, and his chapped lips seem to leave a burning mark when he smacks a kiss on the plush of your left cheek. 

And that’s not the only thing that’s left burning right now, as you sense a scent you don’t really recognise. It’s so sweet it burns your nostrils, that consequently flare as a result of the nauseating fragrance that has invaded your personal space.

He retracts himself, singing along with Gabriella, but you don’t focus on the scene or what’s happening around you at the moment. You look at him, as he’s slouched on the couch, his head propped up by one of the cushions on the couch. He seems content with you dropping the topic of his late arrival and the dismissal of all your plans for the evening, and you’re left wondering if he’s aware of the fact that he smells like fucking cheap perfume. 

The smell is so strong up your nose that you’re sure there’s no amount of fresh air that can get rid of it, it’s the kind of smell you spray from a tester out of pure curiosity and it’s the worst fucking mistake you can ever do because the horrible smell will cling to your skin for the rest of the day. Too sweet and too strong.

You’re snatched out of your own thoughts when you see him turning his head to look at you, “I need to take a shower,” he announces, standing to his feet and moving towards the hall with the staircase to your shared bedroom and bathroom. “And after that I’m all yours, baby” he sings, and you’re once again left wondering, but this time all by yourself.

All mine, you repeat his words in your head a few times, but the only thing you can do right now is question if that’s really the case, or if it will ever be. 

Days pass and you seem to be unable to get the nauseatingly sweet smell of that perfume out of your senses. You perceive it at random times, while cooking, while cleaning, and you know it’s all in your head, because you washed every piece of fabric that Donghyuck could have touched a few night ago with his skin, even after showering.

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Sensing another woman’s perfume on your husband’s skin made your skin crawl and your heart drop to your ass. But is it even correct to call him your husband? He’s still your best friend, and that’s all he is meant to be forever. You can’t call him your husband if it’s just the two of you, because in all honesty it doesn’t feel like a normal marriage.

Because it isn’t, you’re reminded by your own voice of conscience.

And you know that’s right. The marriage is just a cover for when your families and friends are around, you don’t get to enjoy all the privileges of being married when there’s no one around, and you realise it’s upsetting you.

What the fuck is going on with me? You end up asking yourself. Why is this situation getting to you? You knew what you were getting into, you knew who Donghyuck is and what he goes around doing, you’ve known him for all your life and even helped him get out of unpleasant situations multiple times, so why exactly is it bothering you so much? 

You’re pulled back from you own thoughts when your phone rings, and you pick it up to see who the caller is. 

“Yes,” you sigh, not really in the mood to hear his voice.

“Wow, gosh, could you be more enthusiastic of my call?” Donghyuck’s tone is full of sarcasm, and you’re seriously contemplating if you should just hang up the call.

“I’m kind of busy,” you lie, “what is it?”

“I’m getting off work early tonight, wanna have dinner with me tonight?” He asks, and you can hear the car’s engine making noise in the background. “Y/n, hello?” He raises his voice a bit, thinking there’s no signal.

“Jesus fucking Christ, stop sounding like a hyena in heat,” you retort, bothered by the high pitch of his voice. “Pick me up at eight?” 

“It’s a date!” He cheers on the other end of the line.

As much as you didn’t want to be in his proximity right now, you can’t deny the fact that you miss him, and spending time with him. You’d still rather watch a lion feasting on an antelope rather than seeing his face and hearing him talk to you about trivial stuff as if he didn’t come home smelling like another woman. But the truth is that you miss him. You miss his company, his presence, the idiotic jokes he makes and the smart comments he lets out when you watch a film or show him some new music. You miss him spending time with you, just being together most of the time, and worst of all is that you miss talking to him. You used to talk to him about everything. From family problems to boy issues, from uncertainties to future plans, and he used to be there for you, attentive as ever as if your words held the truth to all secrets and mysteries of this planet. 

And you’re hoping that tonight it can be just that. You hope he misses you and your company just as much, and that he made these plans to take you out in an attempt to close the gap that has formed in your relationship. If you feel the distance and all these upsetting feelings and thoughts, then he must feel them too, right?

But the hours pass, and like some sort of sick tradition he’s trying to establish in your relationship lately, he doesn’t show up. You’re in a dress, you smell nice, you look spectacular, waiting for him to take you out for dinner at the new amazing place he’s found. Your stomach churns realising that he probably landed in that place with someone else as his date, and that’s how he discovered it, and you grab your purse before exiting the house.

You need to go out by yourself, and clear your head of all the insecurities you realise this marriage has given you. You used to enjoy his own company, and you used to look forward to having Donghyuck around you so often. But now it only irritates you, the thought of being in his proximity makes you want to punch a wall, because you know you can’t be near him right now. He knows you too well for your own sake, and knows if something is off the moment your gaze meets his, so it’s better to avoid him if you want to save your face in this pathetic masquerade. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? As long as people don’t see him going around on dates with other women, you have to go along with all of his actions. How would you explain to him that you know what he’s been doing behind your back? Because that’s what hurts you the most, his need of going behind your back instead of telling you about it all like he used to do in the past. Why did things have to change? 

Your chest feels heavy and your eyes ready to spill some tears. You make your way to your car, you need to be by yourself. Not like you haven’t been mostly by yourself in the past months, but realising why this happened makes you want to disappear into thin air. And you need to be far away, in a place where you can clear your mind, far away from Donghyuck, his smell, and you shared house — where everything reminds you of him, what could have been, and a macabre reminder of what it actually is.

Donghyuck doesn’t know how he got home the night before, too much alcohol present in his system. But he knows one thing, you weren’t there in your shared bed. Considering the taste in his mouth as soon as he wakes up, he can only imagine how bad he smells and that it would have probably woken you up the moment his head hit the pillow next to yours, knowing your sensitive nose. Because of this, he thinks you not being here last night and this morning to witness his state is a blessing. But he also knows that he misses you. He remembers being cold last night, and when he reached for you in search of heat, you weren’t there. 

Donghyuck’s head raises from his pillow, a splitting headache making him hit the pillow once again. 

You’ve never been away at night, not since this marriage happened. Suddenly, he remembers he has your location, and he can check your whereabouts on his phone.

“She’s home?” He mumbles surprised, making a huge effort not to whine in pain as soon as he stands off the bed and his head starts throbbing.

In his actual state, he doesn’t know where in this huge house to look for you, but then his head feels like being split in half when he hears the clanking of some pots and pans downstairs in the kitchen, and his nose picks up the faint smell of coffee and pancakes.

“Good morning,” he tests the waters as soon as he sets foot in the kitchen, but the bright light coming from outside the open window makes him whine in pain, and he brings his hand over his eyes in a sudden movement.

“Morning,” you reply back, flipping the two pancakes in your pan.

He takes a seat at the kitchen island, just in front of where you’re working your ingredients, and you feel his gaze following you and your movements.

“How long have you been gone last night?” He asks out of curiosity, and he sees you suddenly frowning. He loves getting to talk to you face to face, because you can never hide your emotions from him. He knows every jot and tittle of yours.

“How long have you been gone last night?” You have a sudden burst, asking him the same question, and you grip that pancake spatula so harshly your knuckles turn white.

“What?” Donghyuck straightens his back on the high chair, looking at you confused. Seeing you so upset makes him forget about his muscles pain and splitting headache. Why are you so worked up for?

And then it downs on him. Last night, the alcohol, the company, losing track of time. The plans he’s made with you. He’s been away almost every night in the past months, and he never paid too much attention to you, because he never thought it would bother you this much. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him right now, and he knows he’s fucked up. You’re never avoidant unless you are really upset, or you’re trying to avoid confrontation because you’re about to open your mouth to pour your heart out. He’s witnessed this behaviour of yours multiple times, so he knows what to expect from you.

Except this time, you don’t start a fight, you don’t get teary eyed, you don’t tell him what has been bothering you. But he already knows. He’s been away too much, and he’s bailed on you a lot lately. 

You keep your eyes on your pancakes and on the huge bowl with batter, not even once looking at him.

“I’m so, so sorry, Y/n,” he mumbles softly, and by his tone you realise he’s genuine.

“What are you sorry for?” You ask, as if it didn’t really matter to you. Except it really mattered, more than you’d like to admit. But you’ve heard him apologise to you on many occasions in the last few weeks and months, and you feel like it’s lost its meaning.

“For forgetting about you and our plans,” he answers. Ouch. Him saying it out loud hurt more than the thoughts running lapses around your head. “I’m really sorry for not being here more often,” he continues.

And he really is, because he’s gone about his life like he didn’t coerce you into getting married for his own good. He thought that the setting down part will be done, and then the huge bank account that would come with it would be an advantage. When he said nothing has to change in your dynamic, he meant it. He wants you to go out and live your life to the fullest, especially now that the both of you share millions of dollars. There’s nothing that can stop you, nor him. While you have a joint account, for which Donghyuck insisted, he also insisted you had your own bank accounts and own cards to use as you please. “No need for me to see what, when and where you spend our money,” he explained to you, and at that time you accepted the idea. The bigger, joint account was your safety net, because while you weren’t the big spender Donghyuck encouraged you to be, he liked throwing money left and right. He supposes it’s about the upbringing, and he knows that you still struggle to let yourself go on shopping sprees worth thousands of dollars a time and getting out of the house now that you quit your job. He just wishes you would let loosen up for a bit to enjoy what this marriage has brought you. Let yourself enjoy the money and the liberty of still doing everything you were used to doing before being legally bound to him.

“Y/n,” he calls your name, “Look at me,” he instructs, and you have to gather all your willpower to do as he says, because there’s nothing you want more than to tell him to fuck off.

When you look at him, he freezes in his chair. Your gaze is so full of emotion, so hurt, and he realises the tears he was expecting you to shed in your usual upset burst weren’t there because you had already shed them before, all by yourself.

He stands to his feet, and starts walking around the marble kitchen island to reach your figure. “My sweet Y/n,” he coos, pulling you in a tight hug. “Please forgive me,” your head rests in the crook of his neck, and Donghyuck’s skin tingles when he feels your breathing against his skin. 

“You’ll have to do some grovelling before I can forgive you,” you mumble against the skin of his neck, and he lets a deep laugh escape him. 

“What if I did the grovelling while having breakfast together on the terrace?” He asks, moving his head to look behind yourselves outside the window, checking the weather. “Sounds good?” He moves back to his initial position, his head resting on yours. 

You nod, holding him a little tighter. “Let’s spend tomorrow together,” he proposes, and you nod once again.

“Before you start grovelling for breakfast, you need to go shower,” you let your arms fall, getting out of his embrace, gently pushing his chest to guide him out of the kitchen, “You stink of alcohol,”

He whines offended, but he knows you’re right. Before he can get out the room he stops in his tracks. “Kiss and make up?” He pouts his lips, closing his eyes and fluttering his lashes like the drama queen he is. No conflict is ever resolved without a kiss and make up situation. You lean in, this time giving him a small peck on the lips instead of extending your cheek for him to kiss.

The action visibly takes him aback, but he doesn’t say anything, and he exits the kitchen with a grin plastered on his face.

You look at the tv, at the bottles of beer scattered around you and Donghyuck, and the Chinese takeout boxes resting on the coffee table in front of you. At his long, tanned legs as he sits on the carpet next to you, his gaze fixed on the tv playing Notting Hill.

After a painfully long time, Donghyuck made an effort to be with you. No more excuses, no more hiding, he knows he’s been away and distant for a few months now, and after the euphoria of the wedding and the first few exciting months of being married to you had worn off he basically went back to his old ways, as if the past few months have never happened and he was still an eligible bachelor ready to roam the streets of the city almost, if not every night. 

He knows he owes this to you, to the decades of friendship with you, to the love he has for you. He loves you more than he would a sister, but less than a romantic interest, if that makes sense. Maybe it’s the decades of friendship that have gotten him so attached to you, or maybe the fact that you’ve always understood and protected him the best you could. Whenever his parents fought, and he got dragged in these relentless fights between the two of them, being asked to pick a side, he flew the scene and came running to your house. You’ve always understood him, you’ve always shared everything with him, you and your parents made him realise what normality is like. A loving family, not everything being about money and power and jealousy. And that’s one of the reasons why he married you, he knows it. Apart from being the one to know him best, even more than his family and grandma Lee, you’re the one who provided him peace and tranquillity, the safety of being loved and, no matter how many times he fucked up, you were always there for him — even if you scolded him first. He can’t pinpoint the nature of all the feelings he has for you, but he knows that you bring him the kind of comfort and safety no one has ever even tried bringing him.

You feel his gaze on you, and you turn your head to throw him a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” You ask, a deep frown plastered on your pretty face.

He’s snapped out of his own thoughts, and looks at you like a deer in highlights, seemingly taken aback by the fact that he was so deep into his head that he didn’t even realise he was looking at you. He tries to conceal what he thinks was a surprised face when you bursted his bubble, and looks at you with fake annoyance. 

“Y/n,” he says your name, sporting a serious expression, “I will have to be very honest with you,”

You turn your whole body around so you can face his, and you giggle looking at his face. Judging by the scene that’s on right now on the tv, you know exactly what he’s about to say. 

“You hate Anna Scott?” You say it before he can.

“I hate Anna Scott,” he confirms, throwing his head back so it hits the seat of the couch, “how can you even like her, she’s the worst!” He whines, lazily pointing his hand towards the tv screen where Julia Roberts’s character is having a fight with Hugh Grant’s.

“Because!” You gasp, smiling sheepishly, knowing that what you’re about to say is going to annoy the hell out of him. “She’s just a girl!” You start, and Donghyuck is already rolling his eyes at you, “Standing in front of a boy!” You’re so excited to do your number, and Donghyuck doesn’t say anything but he turns his head to look the other way. “Asking him to love her!” You end your act by grabbing his black t-shirt and pulling him a bit towards you.

Donghyuck looks at you, at your hands on his chest, at your excitement, and he can’t help being surprised. He also can’t help the rosy cheeks he feels getting hotter and hotter, and the strange movements happening in the pit of his stomach. This never happened before, every time he was the one initiating any type of physical touch with you, or even when you give him as much as a hug back. But he never felt this way.

He tries to regain his composure, pushing himself up against the foot of the couch to an upright posture. He clears his throat as smoothly as he can, trying to remember what was happening before you became so excited. Ah yes, fucking Anna Scott.

“She’s just a girl,” he copies you with a whiney tone, rolling his eyes once again. “She’s an idiot, that’s what she is, Y/n. She’s despicable, so much that they should make a Despicable Me film with her as the main villain,” He argues, his smooth forehead now marked by a deep frown, his index repeatedly and forcibly poking on the carpet underneath the both of you, trying to make his point come across.

You pause the film, outraged at his hate for the character. It wasn’t the first time he hated on her, but he was never this vocal. 

“She’s not that bad, Hyuck” you retort, bringing your legs up to your chest, your body still facing his.

He smirks at you, that kind of attractive, devious smirk he makes when he’ll start a debate with you just to crush you and your opinions like a cockroach in a sewer. 

“Think about it, Y/n,” he says, his body turning towards yours, imitating the way you are sitting. “If the roles were to be reversed, would you think this way?” He asks, smirking at you, tsking in disapproval.

You look at him, weighting his words, and you’re sure your eyes are the size of saucers while looking into his smug ones. 

“She plays with that poor man’s heart, Y/n. She plays this push and pull game I really don’t know why William loves her, it’s like she likes hurting him and he’s an idiot too for sticking with her for so long,” he sighs as if he was William himself, going through that kind of pain himself.

You look at him, unimpressed. It’s ironic, really, he's mocking the ones who play with other people’s hearts.

“Thank god William learnt some self respect, right?” You whisper back, looking at his side profile, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. Except, he never looks back at you, laughing at your words with his specific deep laugh that he lets out whenever he’s taken by surprise.

For god’s sake, he can’t read the fucking room, you think.

“Yeah, that too,” he agrees after he recomposes himself, finally looking at you, his facial features relaxed with amusement. “But it’s a cute ending, I’ll give you that, baby” he responds, going back to the smugness you so love and hate at the same time.

“Thank you for today,” you tell him when the film is over, the last song playing loudly in the background, making Donghyuck start humming it. He knows it by heart, with all the times you made him watch your favourite film and the countless times you put the soundtrack on.

“No, I should be the one to thank you,” he explains, picking up the beer bottles scattered around the room and walking behind you towards the kitchen, where you’re headed with all the Chinese takeout boxes balanced in your arms. “I know I haven’t been a present friends, or we could say husband, but I really want you to know that you matter to me and things between you and I haven’t changed,” he explains, and it feels like a sharp object is piercing your chest repeatedly.

Just another reminder that things are still the same according to him. Another reminder that things between the two of you will never change the way you wanted.

Sensing his piercing gaze on your figure, you nod, not feeling like letting any words out. 

You leave the kitchen first promising to clean all the mess in the morning, but Donghyuck is close behind you, and you can still sense his gaze on your figure as you make your way in and out of the ensuite bathroom, and his eyes feel very heavy on you, like there’s something he needs to bring up and doesn’t know how, so instead he just looks at you until you’ll spare him a look.

So, you spare him a look. And he’s like a kicked puppy, sitting in the middle of the bed and you sense uncertainty in his posture. The easy going Donghyuck you know is nowhere to be found, and you feel obligated to intervene and ask him what’s going on in that head of his.

“Hyuck,” you say his name, climbing into bed, “Is everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, but you can see him still being hesitant about something.

“You sure?” You giggle, trying to ease his nerves. He’s never hid anything from you, and he’s never taken so long to open up about something either. You never had to coerce him into opening up about what’s bothering him. “Hyuck, look at me,” you say, but it comes out more as a question. 

He avoids your plea for a bit, and then he gives in and his gaze meets yours. It’s sparkling, but not with his usual smugness and joy. Instead, you’re met with an emotional look that looks like might be on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, grabbing his cheeks, and you notice how they’re burning up. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” he says, avoiding your eyes once again, even if you’re holding his head still with your hands. “I've treated you so badly lately, I cannot imagine how my avoidance affected you day by day, and as I said before, I know I haven’t been here for you and truth be told, I don’t want anything to change. I dont want to lose you, and I certainly don’t want you to resent me in any kind of way. I’m so sorry, Y/n,” he pauses in order to take a breath in.

You let go of his face, speechless, not knowing if you should open up as well or if you should let him be the only one to open up right now. 

“I want you to know that no matter what, I love you. I really do, Y/n,” he grabs your face with his clammy hands, a clear sign of the nerves he’s experiencing right now, “I care about you, and nothing or no one will come between you and me, yeah?” 

His eyes are sincere, but his words sting like hell. He says he loves you, but to what extent? You know the kind of feelings you have for him, you’re aware of them and you know their nature, but is he as certain of his, as you are of yours? 

You’re so deep into your head that you fail to notice the kind of gaze Donghyuck is giving you, but when you raise your eyes to look at his face, you notice how his eyes are on your lips and immediately shift back to you eyes. 

You lick your lips out of instinct, a habit you’ve had all your life when your boyfriends and partners looked at your lips before kissing you, and you close your eyes embarrassed after doing it in front of Donghyuck. After all, he’s just… your husband.

Donghyuck’s clammy hands gently squeeze the side of your face, trying to bring your attention back to him. You open your eyes and your gaze lands instantly on his lips, knowing his face’s proportion perfectly by now, your eyes sliding immediately without you not even registering the action. Until you feel him leaning in, his eyes barely open, and there’s a force that pulls you in closer to him, and even if you wanted to pull back you know that’s not what you really want. But is it what he really wants?

You give up on trying to analyse the situation right now, and you grab his wrists as you feel him getting rid of the mere centimetres of distance between your lips. His plump lips feel sweet amidst the kiss, the way they sit perfectly on yours makes you feel elated, and you briefly remember who you’re kissing right now. You cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but the kiss is too intoxicating to come to reason with your conscience, and you feel his tongue poke tentatively for access. You grant it, and he smiles into the kiss, his tongue now dancing with yours in a sweet saccharine waltz. You don’t care about the way you’re both running out of air, the way his kiss is getting more and more desperate, and the way you can’t stop chasing his lips now that you’re feeling like you’ve opened pandora’s box. 

He detaches himself from your lips, the action making a popping sound that you’ve never found this hot until today. 

“Just promise me,” you say, taking big breaths as discretely as possible, your throat feeling incredibly dry all of a sudden. “Promise me you’ll never run away from me,” you say, caressing his cheek, and he leans into your touch like a poor animal looking for affection.

“Okay,” he promises, pulling you into his embrace, and it feels like he’s promising you the whole universe.

But you should have known better than trusting Donghyuck. Is like ever since he married you he’s done nothing but hurt and lie to you, like the decades of friendship have never happened and like the past didn’t even matter to him. The promises he’s made in the wedding vows and the ones made to you personally and privately, have no value to him, you’ve come to this conclusion the next day, when he was nowhere to be found.

He was out the door before you could wake up to make breakfast, and you wouldn’t hear from him for the entirety of the day. He would come back home late, knowing his dinner had already run cold, not like it ever mattered anyway since you know he was having dinner out, possibly with some other female companion. He would come to bed, thinking you’re sound asleep, but you felt and heard everything. The sighs, the stirring in his sleep, the occasional smell of alcohol on his breath, the way he would keep his distance from you every night. 

It went on this way for five days before you couldn’t take it anymore, so you moved your essentials out of your shared bedroom and bathroom, to one of the guest rooms. And it should have been this way since the beginning. Apparently being married has no value to the one you thought understood you the best, and what’s a signed paper in front of bodily desires? Nothing, that’s for sure.

This way you’re spared the icky perfumes he comes home having traces of on his skin and clothes, you’re spared the presence of a person that clearly doesn’t love you the way they claimed before, nor does he really care for you, you’re sure of this. Who breaks a promise to someone they supposedly say they love? You’re spared the sadness you feel when he doesn’t reach out to you all day and ultimately comes home at the crack of dawn, and the hesitation you feel when he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed before he decides to lie down next to you. And, most importantly, you’re spared the heartbreak.

The marriage is just a contract to him, you’re just some sort of friends only, treating you like a housemate who he gets the privilege of calling his wife to the outside world. No amount of money, fancy dinners, and privileges that his status brought to you once you married him is worth the pain you’re feeling being ignored by him out of all people. If it were Renjun, you’d understand. If it were one of the girls, it would be logical since you stopped hanging out that often with all your friends ever since you got married. No more meet ups in the middle of the week, no more wine parties during film nights with them. You changed when you got married, but you never thought shit would hit the fan so fast. You could understand if anyone treated you this badly, but not Donghyuck. The bond you two shared was too important, at least for you. But he doesn’t value it as much, that much is clear to you.

You move rooms, you stop making dinner, only eating small portions by yourself because, after all, everything would end up in the bin if you made dinner for him as well. You sleep alone at night, even if you’re cold as hell and you miss his body emanating heat, but you don’t think he’s even noticed your moving rooms. With the amount of alcohol he ingests before returning home late at night, you’re not even sure how he can remember where home is.

You start looking for sports courses, pottering classes, airplane tickets for vacations you’ve always wanted to go on, anything that could get you back on track and to stop you from being the wannabe perfect wife to someone who doesn’t even consider you his wife worth respecting.

Two weeks pass since you two shared the kiss, and Donghyuck’s still avoiding you like the plague. So you do him a favour and make it easier for him by hiding from him. 

One evening, you’re sitting on the couch biting on an apple and watching a documentary when your phone rings. No one ever calls you, and in a pathetic attempt of hoping that he’s the one calling, you’re reminded of how much of a fool you are when you’re met with Jaemin’s name and contact picture looking right back at you. He never calls you, only talking to you through texts, so your stomach drops when your thoughts start racing, thinking that the reason Jaemin’s calling has something to do with something bad that’s happened to Donghyuck.

“Jaemin?” You ask, falling short of breath expecting the worst news ever. You suddenly regret the cold shoulder you’ve given Donghyuck.

“Y/n, yes, hi” he answers robotically, and you feel hesitation in his voice.

“Did something happen?” You push it, trying to brace yourself for the worst possible news.

“Mmm, just wanted to ask you something,” he says but it comes out more like a question. When you prompt him to continue, you hear him breathe through his teeth hesitantly, “I wanted to see if Hyuck’s home, maybe?” You know Jaemin well enough to know that he is conflicted and embarrassed by this phone call.

“What?” You ask incredulously. “Is this the reason you called?” You bark back, knowing that Jaemin is not one of the people you need to hide from when it comes to the real you, and your vulgar mouth with all the swear words.

“I didn’t know who to call,” he says but it sounds like a question once again, his tone defensive. “Me and Mark were supposed to meet him at my apartment tonight, and he didn’t show up. We thought something had happened because he said he’d come home to grab a quick bite with you, but he never came back and it’s been two hours” he explains, and you hear Mark telling him what kind of questions to ask you, “I’m sorry Y/n, just call me if you ever need anything”.

You sigh, once again disappointed. “I’m sorry Jaemin,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “And Mark,” you continue, knowing he’s listening as well. “I’m sorry but Donghyuck never came home, and I don’t know where he is,” you say, before bidding goodbye to the two.

What a fucking idiot, you mumble, throwing your phone on the couch. You pick up your apple but you can’t chew on it right now, not with the lump that’s formed in your throat, suffocating you.

Why is Donghyuck acting the way he is? To you, to his friends? It's like he doesn’t want to keep the cover up of this marriage intact to the eyes of outsiders.

Lost in your own thoughts you lose track of time, the first documentary ends just for another one to start. You fail to hear the car parking outside your house, but you don’t fail to notice the tingling of keys just outside your front door. Waiting for Donghyuck to enter and be as drunk as he’s made a habit of being, just for him to then skip checking the living room or any other room in the house and go directly to the upstairs bedroom, you’re incredibly irritated when you realise he’s so drunk off his ass that he can’t see where to put the keys in.

You stand to you feet, approaching the front door, and just in that moment the door opens slightly, showing a dishevelled Donghyuck totter forward in the hallway. He notices you, and he smirks at you as if you’re not ready to kick him in the throat for all the mixed feelings you’re feeling because of him. You’ve never felt more low, more pathetic, more disrespected than right now.

“Hi, baby” he rasps, and you know that the tone of his voice and the words he just spoke would have had you on cloud nine. But now you feel disgusted. 

“Where the fuck have you been? And why are you so drunk at seven in the evening?” You ask, a deep frown plastered on you features. 

He tsks, trying to stand upright, and that’s when you see it. At first you think it’s just the shadow of his shirt’s collar, but then you look more attentively, and a simple shadow can’t have red and brown and purple tones plastered all over.

A hickey? Your heart drops and you think you’re about to black out in about ten seconds because of the distress you feel right now. Another woman’s scent is something, but a mark on his body is another thing completely. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, but he’s too drunk to bring it up, and you know it’s not really your place to hold him accountable for this. So your internal war goes on and on, and on.

So you try to play it off by chewing his head off like a good friend would do. And you hope the hurt in your eyes goes unnoticed, but you don’t think too deeply about this because he’s too drunk to remember his own name.

“Where have you been, Hyuck?” You ask softly, but he’s too drunk to sense the amicable tone you’re using, and gets defensive immediately.

“Why the fuck do you keep asking me this, Y/n?” He barks, and somehow it hurts you more than anything he’s previously done to you.

The lump in your throat sets itself once again, threatening to make you spill the dinner and the apple you had tonight. But looking at Donghyuck’s dishevelled self, smelling him, and seeing the marks on his neck completely enrages you, making you find the voice to snarl back at him.

“Don’t fucking raise your voice because I’m on the verge of punching you in the throat, Donghyuck” you snarl through gritted teeth.

“You’re so sexy when you threaten me, and you using my government name, baby,” he smirks, trying to keep his upright posture the best he can.

“Stop being an idiot,” you push his shoulder, making him lose his balance for just a second. “Jaemin called me, Donghyuck,” you push him once again, this time his back comes into touch with the wall behind him, and the mention of his friend’s name snaps Donghyuck out of whatever dizziness he was in. His eyes are the size of saucers, and he seems like he wants to say something but you cut him off immediately, “It’s okay to neglect me, but get you fucking shit together if you don’t want your other friends to burst your fucking masterplan,” you say through gritted teeth, before turning around and going up the stairs, not sparing Donghyuck another look.

In doing so, you fail to see the look on Donghyuck’s face, you fail to hear the front door closing behind him, and the engine of his car getting turned on.

You’re suffocated by the wave of emotions you feel, they’re making you drown in your own tears. Tears run down your cheeks before you can sense them even brimming in your eyes, and the sobs that follow are a raw reminder of the unhappiness you’ve felt in the last months of your life. But now you can add betrayal to the equation.

You must do something to get out of this situation, or you’re risking losing yourself for a man who doesn’t really lose sleep over how much hurt he’s causing you.

Donghyuck is not sure how he’s managed to reach Jaemin’s apartment complex safe and sound, but he stomps his way through the building like he owns it. He just might. He’ll buy the place tomorrow and he’ll kick Jaemin on the streets for the stunt he’s pulled on his wife later this evening.

The knocks on Jaemin’s door reverberate so loudly that even Donghyuck is kind of intimidated by the echo they make. 

The moment Jaemin opens the door, Donghyuck pushes through without caring about the force he uses to push at Jaemin’s chest in order to get him out of the way.

“What the fuck, man?” Jaemin asks in disbelief.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to ask you this, you moron,” Donghyuck snarls, pushing again at Jaemin chest, making him grit his teeth in annoyance knowing why his friend is paying him a visit. It must have something to do with the phone call he’s given his wife.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he warns, waiting for the shitstorm that drunk Donghyuck is willing to start.

“What the fuck were you thinking, calling Y/n?” Donghyuck raises his voice once again, “You call my wife for what reason, exactly?” His gaze throws daggers at Jaemin’s head, but the latter doesn’t back down. “What the fuck is wrong with you, snooping about my life like you have no other business? Are you trying to ruin it for me?” 

Jaemin can take a lot of things. Can take violence, palms of hands on his chest, punches to his face. He can take a nasty mouth like Donghyuck’s, and he can take the disrespect because he knows he’ll sort it out with his friend once he’s sober. But there are a few things Jaemin can’t take, like when someone's blaming him when he did nothing wrong, and when women are being disrespected. 

So he walks towards Donghyuck, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and throwing him into the wall, keeping him glued against the hard, cold surface. 

“Your wife was home alone, sad, and upset,” Jaemin makes a threatening pause between each word, pushing Donghyuck against the wall again and again each time, “So shut the fuck up before I push you through this wall. She didn’t even know where you were, you're drunk and you have fucking hickeys on your fucking neck. So, tell me now, who’s the one ruining it for you? Me or yourself?,” Jaemin lets Donghyuck go after one last push. But doesn’t spare him another look.

A week passes since the hickey incident and you don’t see Donghyuck. You assume he’s on some sort of vacation with someone else, and you don’t even care enough to look for him on the tracking app. You don’t want to make an obsession out of this, because you guess he’s with someone else, and actually seeing his contact on some exotic country’s map on the phone app would be your final straw. 

So you try to do your own thing by packing a small trolley and calling a cab to take you to the airport. You’re not sure about the destination, but you feel like you need to do this to get out of the slums of your heart.

You buy a ticket for the first flight you set your eyes on once you reach the ticket till, and you make your way through the passenger lounges towards the gates. You already feel refreshed, and you nearly vibrate with anticipation when you think about the days that are yet to come and the alone time you’ll have to yourself, but this time in a different city. Alone and away from your supposed husband. 

You reach one of the restaurants there, and you hate to admit to yourself that Donghyuck has engulfed every aspect of your life when you realise that you’re going to drink beer and eat steak at ten in the morning just because Donghyuck has always done this type of thing, “It’s the law of the jungle here, baby” he once joked when he almost got drunk off overpriced wine in one of the airport’s restaurants way before noon.

So you gulp the resurfacing feelings back to where they belong, the bottom of your being where you hope they’ll be forgotten and unreachable for a long time, and so you reach the bar, asking for steak and beer like you’d be asking for a coffee and muffin at the local cafeteria back home. Which again, you don’t need to be worried about because airports are like casinos, especially if you have a flight with a layover in the middle.

You chew your steak and you can’t help but think about how Donghyuck would love this, and there goes your appetite. The lump in your throat returns, and your stomach churns because of all the emotions you feel all at once. You think you need to go see a doctor, because your emotional state is already affecting your physical state as well. 

“Excuse me,” you feel someone patting you slightly on the shoulder, making you flinch just a bit at the unexpected contact, “Is this seat taken?” The stranger asks again in a very polite way, which makes you turn around to look at him. 

You’re met with a tall, lean figure standing a few feet behind you, his finger still pointing at the seat next to you. You suddenly remember his question and you jump in realisation, moving your luggage on your other side of the stool you’re sitting on, making some space for him to move and sit down. “By all means,” you look at him, gesturing towards the high stool at the bar, “Please take a seat,”

He gives you a smile in return making himself comfortable before picking up the menu to look over. He’s wearing a black wool sweater, his glasses are covered in water droplets that have gone dry by now, probably from the rain outside. His black hair falls slightly on his forehead, and he has to shake his head from time to time to prevent his fringe from getting into his eyes as he tries to look for something appealing in that whole menu.

You go back to chewing your steak, and even nearly cold it’s still delicious. You try not to think too much about the steak and who might like it, or otherwise you’ll not be able to swallow the bite.

“Is the steak good?” The man on your left asks, still holding the menu in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he giggles, realising that you didn’t expect anyone to talk to you, “It’s just that I’m not really sure what to order and I’m starving, and that steak looks really nice,” he smiles at you, but you probably look like an idiot while he was only trying to be friendly.

“You should get it,” you smile back, seeing how his features relax when he hears your answer, “It’s one of the best steaks I’ve ever eaten. The ones I make are excluded,” you laugh, cutting into your steak.

His ears seem to perk up at the mention of your cooking, now intrigued by you. He introduces himself, and you grab his hand, never breaking eye contact with him. His hand is warm and big, his long fingers wrap around your palm, squeezing slightly.

“So, where are you off to?” He asks after a while, curious to know a bit more about you.

“Chicago,” you answer, playing with your bracelets.

“What a coincidence,” he sips on the last drop of beer from his glass, “So am I".

Donghyuck doesn’t see you for a whole week. After the fight at Jaemin’s, he doesn’t come back home to you, but spends the night in his car instead. Not that he couldn’t afford going to some other place, but he was still drunk and the information Jaemin gave about you really did a number on him. Jaemin could punch him, break his head against any surface of his apartment and it still wouldn’t hurt as much as finding out that you’re aware of all his actions on the side of your marriage. 

And the fact that he has some fucking hickeys on his skin, and that you surely saw them, makes him want to jump off a cliff. The remorse is eating him from inside, and he’s sure he’s about to get a hole in his chest at the amount of stress he’s been through in the last week. 

But not seeing you for a week did Donghyuck some good. He had some time to himself to be really alone, in a hotel room just outside the city, and rethink his life choices and everything he’s done lately. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this amount of shame bubbling inside of him, never thought he’d be able to hurt you so much. He remembers your eyes from that night, when you shoved his shoulder, and it must have happened after you saw the marks on his skin. He feels like a fucking idiot, like he has shit for a brain and there’s no way he’s ever going to straighten things up with you, not after last week. And he honestly doesn’t know what was going on in his head in the past months after the wedding happened, and what made him do all of this, all of the suffering he’s brought you. 

After the wedding, after the first few months after the wedding, after grandma Lee passed, he thought that things were just going to go back to how they were before he even saw that damned testament. He could go around fucking whoever he wanted, as long as he came home each evening to be with you, have dinner together and then go to sleep. Nothing between the two of you had to change. The casual sleepovers at one of your apartments would become a recurrent sharing of the bed, but now as husband and wife even if the titles were just for show. The hugs, the embraces, the casual signs of affection that the two of you showed each other wouldn’t have to change. Except, he broke all his rules. Yes, he did go around fucking whoever he wanted, but he never got home on time. He stopped hanging out with you, stopped being there for you. And he can’t help but wonder what the fuck is wrong with him, because the amount of heartbreak he feels right now while acknowledging the pain he’s put you through is making him lose his mind. Maybe he realises this too late, but he thinks he’s done it out of fear. Fear of acknowledging his true feelings. Maybe he never thought you would ever agree to marrying him, but again, he was really hoping you would. He doesn’t understand what’s going on in his mind, but he’s sure of one thing, and that is he loves you. Scrap the “more than a sister but less than a romantic interest” bullshit he’s told himself time and time again, he’s sure he loves you in the pathetic Anna Scott and William Thacker way, the hopeless way, the romantic and desperate, yearning for your attention and just for you — kind of love.

Maybe spending one week away from you does him so good, because he decides to go back home, your shared home, to be a more present husband. He’ll work from home, he’ll do everything for you just as much as you did everything for him but he was too blind to see — or even more. He’ll take you out, he’ll take you on vacations you’ve always wanted to go on. He’ll pick up whatever couple activity you want, and even if it’s not an activity meant for couples he’d still go just for you.

He comes home after a week and a half of being away, and it’s early in the morning. He stops by the supermarket and buys all the ingredients he knows he needs to make your favourite breakfast, and buys freshly squeezed juice from the farmer’s till you love so much, by the entrance of the supermarket. He comes home, and it’s still early, and thank god you’re not down in the kitchen making something already. 

He puts some music on, but the volume isn’t too loud so as to not wake you up. He wants to surprise you with breakfast in bed. He remembers when the two of you used to eat cup ramen or whatever other thing you prepared, while sitting in bed at either one’s dormitory. He misses those times, but he realises that nothing has to change, everything can be like before, especially now that he’s gotten the cold shower of reality.

He hears the front door open and turns around confused, but before he can take a step and come towards the entry hall, you show up in the kitchen looking just as surprised as he does.

“What is going on?” Your eyes are the size of saucers, pointing at the spatula in his hand and the apron he’s wearing on top of his casual clothes. It doesn’t look like he’s slept home, otherwise he’d be in his pyjamas or suit and tie. But he’s in jeans and a fitting t-shirt. This time, your stomach doesn’t churn and your heart doesn’t drop.

“Were you not home? Sleeping?” He asks, pointing his thumb towards the staircase.

“No,” you answer but it comes out more as a question, “Were you not home? You should have noticed I haven’t been here for four days,” you retort, your tone not that friendly.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were avoiding me,” he lies. His heart drops knowing he wasn’t here to notice you were gone. “I just wanted to make you breakfast, your favourite,” he shows you the pan full of vegetables, scrambled eggs and grated cheese. You start salivating looking at the colours in the pan alone, knowing that it’s going to be delicious because Donghyuck is an excellent cook. “By the way, we have freshly squeezed orange juice in the fridge, your favourite type, no pulp,” he points his head towards the fridge.

“Jesus, we’re like the fucking Kennedys this morning,” you reply, walking towards the fridge to take the juice out. He laughs at your joke, and it’s like music to your ears. You haven’t heard this sound in a long time, and you have to think about something else as not to let your feelings resurface.

“We’re more like… Brangelina,” he jokes, and this time you’re the one laughing.

“So,” he says, sitting at the kitchen island across from where you’re sitting, so he can see you better. God, you’re so beautiful. Your eyes are sparkling and your cheeks are rosy. You’re wearing that coloured chapstick that tints your lips just the right amount, and it contours your features so perfectly his chest heaves with something close to euphoria. The euphoria of seeing you. “Where did you go these past days? Did you have fun?” He doesn’t want to know the details, because it’s a reminder of the past. The past that he doesn’t want to go back to. 

He’s a new man, a married man but he’ll take this seriously this time. A new chapter starts today.

Hearing his question, you stop mid chew. What are you supposed to tell him? Are you two sharing this kind of information now? “Yes,” you reply simply, nodding your head, “I had fun,” 

“That’s good, I’m glad” he smiles at you, and it is his most genuine smile. You know it.

“Listen, Y/n,” he starts, but swallows his words when he looks at you. He wanted to apologise, but he feels like it’s too soon and too sudden right now. He’ll do it when the perfect time comes.

“Actually, Hyuck, I’d like for you to listen first. I have something I want to tell you,” you sip on your orange juice, and Donghyuck stops mid chew, and you sense there’s something in his eyes. Fear?

“I’m thankful for you making breakfast this morning, I really am,” you smile at him, trying to bring him some reassurance, “But you don’t have to do this. You never make breakfast and you’re never around but, for some reason, you’re here now preparing my favourite meal for me. I don’t know why you’re doing this or what’s wrong,” you actually might have a faint idea, but you keep it to yourself, “But we can live separate lives. I’ll respect your choices, and we don’t have to interact with each other if that’s not what you really want,”

“What? No!” He interrupts you, frowning, “What are you talking about?”

“You keep avoiding me, you’re away all the time,” you start, but you can feel tears forming in your eyes. Damn it, that’s not how you wanted this to turn out, he doesn’t deserve any more of your tears. “So, I understand that your plan of getting your inheritance was successful, but we really don’t need to be around each other. I get it now, so I’m letting you know that I’ve moved some of my things out of our room, but not all just in case, you know, if our friends ever come by and they see us having completely separate rooms. It would look really bad for your plan,” you explain, drying your tears but smiling nonetheless. And the image breaks Donghyuck.

“You can go do your activities, by yourself, and I’ll do mine on my own” you continue, “but there’s one thing I want to ask of you. Please don’t bring anyone in our house. This is our house,” you make small pauses between requests, hoping he’ll understand what you’re implying. You’re willing to give up your happiness thinking of what could have been, for the peace of mind of coming to terms with what your life is actually like. It’s the only way you can still be with Donghyuck, and you have to make this compromise.

“What?” He snarls, a frown painted on his face.

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you need to get away from him or you’ll start crying in front of him, and that’s not what you want. So you stand to your feet, pushing the stool under the kitchen island. “You don’t have to worry about anything, okay?” You look at him, but your emotions get the better of you and your eyes are brimming with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the past few months, and he looks back at you like you just caught him committing some sort of crime, “I’ll go to my room now, I need to be alone” you point towards the staircase, “By the way, there’s some dry cleaning that needs to be picked up, can you go?” You ask, but he knows that it is not a question.

He gulps, seeing your back leaving the kitchen. “Sure,” but you’re already on your way to your room, and you don’t hear him.

The day goes by, and Donghyuck doesn’t see you around the house again. He respects your boundaries, so he doesn’t push to get you to listen to what he has to say right away, so he secludes himself in your — formerly — shared bedroom, trying to give you space just for today at least. 

The following day, he comes back home after picking the clothes held hostage for so long at the dry cleaner’s — and immediately notices the silence. The dead silence, only the clock ticking making a sound that’s too loud in Donghyuck’s ears and too heavy on his heart. He supposes you’re still locked in the guest room, hence the disgusting silence.

He’s used to finding you around the house either cooking, either singing using a broom as a mic stand as you clean around; either the loud sound of war documentaries, or you crying while watching a cheetah eating an antelope on Animal Planet, either you baby talking to the plants you were planting in some pots in the back garden. But now everything is dead, dead silent. 

He really wants to make this right. He rethinks about everything that happened in the past weeks, Jaemin knocking some sense into him, all the conclusions he’s come to, and the words you told him yesterday morning. 

First, he realised he wants to make this right. No more sleeping around, no more hiding from you, no more hurting you. It took him long enough to realise he wants to be in this marriage for real, and not just because he was promised millions of dollars if he got married, and he chose the easier way since you were the only woman who’s been around him for so long, — that he now realises he was in love with since his teenage years. It was like a cold shower taken on a scorching day, the type that makes your heart stop for one second and then back to pumping blood quickly with an uneven rhythm. 

Secondly, he promised himself, after many days of mulling thoughts in his head, that he’d be more attentive, and that he will try to make things right with you. He’d spend more time with you, as opposed to what he did until now — spending his days with women, too many to count, too many to even remember. And he’s filled with shame every time he remembers how he came home all dirtied up, their kissing marks left all over his body, his clothes stinking of their perfumes, and when he stepped through the front door you were there, waiting for him with dinner and wine, or patiently waiting for him to come home so you could spend some time together like you used to. But he was scared, and it took Jaemin’s shoving to make his brain start working. He’d never meant to hurt you, although he was trying to avoid you every day since that kiss between you two happened, because he thought it was weird. He proposed marriage to you, without any obligations, he never asked you to love him or be faithful to him, and you never asked him either. So why was it so weird? So complicated? He started avoiding you when he realised that maybe you were all he needed after all, and that thought was scary. He jumped head first into this marriage expecting the two of you to live your lives like you were used to doing, and now it seems that he might have done it because it felt right. And it had always been you, and only you. 

Going up the stairs two steps at a time, he quickly reaches the upper floor of your shared house, reaching the guest room’s door, where you’ve been sleeping since he screwed up — you made sure to let him know this just earlier.

“Y/n?” He calls your name gently, hoping for you to recognise the vulnerability in his voice. “Y/n, can we talk?” He pleads, knocking slightly on the wooden door.

 It creaks open, a puzzled Donghyuck opening it slowly as he looks a bit around the room, expecting you to be in bed or maybe doing some sort of activity you found solace in while avoiding his presence.

But you were nowhere to be found. He takes big steps towards the dressing room, noticing the lights are turned off, and then in a last attempt he tries to look for you on the room’s balcony. But you’re not there, and he’s sure there’s nowhere nearly as cozy and comfortable as this space for you to be hiding. And your shared bedroom is an excluded possibility, because that’s where he’ll be sleeping, and you didn’t want to see his face, it was for sure.

In a last, desperate attempt to find you, he moves quickly towards the bedroom, and he prays to god he’ll find you in there looking through your old clothes and trying them on like you always do every few months, calling him an idiot as soon as you see his face entering the room. But you’re not there either, and he can only sigh, sitting on the bed, thinking of what he can do to find you.

Would it be wise to call Renjun? He’s one of his best friends, but also yours? Renjun would take your side any second, and Donghyuck knows this. 

“Let’s not,” he mumbles, throwing the phone across the bed and throwing his back harshly on the hard mattress of your shared bed. He misses you. He missed feeling annoyed by your sleeping figure stretching all over him in search for heat. He misses your perfume, your scent hogging his senses as soon as his head hits your pillow. Your pillow, the one he kept close in his embrace every time you woke earlier than he did. He misses you so much, he needs to feel you randomly giving him a warm embrace.

He can remember the scent of your hair, the one sticking to your skin, and he gets up from the bed to go to your vanity desk to spray a little bit around the room, just so he can find a little bit of comfort before he thinks of where you could be.

He stops in his tracks, sensing there’s something odd going on. Looking around the room, he can’t pinpoint it, but he suddenly feels it in the pit of his stomach. 

He looks at your vanity desk, inspecting it from where he’s standing, and he looks for the bottle of your perfume that he loves. And then it hits him. It’s not there. Out of all the perfume bottles, the one you always wore — which he loves, — it’s nowhere to be seen. He jogs to the bathroom attached to your bedroom, hoping that you took it there when you were getting ready to leave, because you’ve done that before. Except, this time you didn’t place it in the bathroom. It’s as spotless as ever, as if no one has ever used it before. Your shower products are still lined nicely in the shower, your skincare products still inside the cabinets hanging on the walls. But not your toothbrush. His is sitting alone in the glass holders where they usually touch each other, as unhygienic as it sounds. 

He speeds out of the bathroom, back to your vanity, where he inspects the products laying around. Your preferred perfume is gone, a few make up products missing from the little drawer you had arranged them so nicely in. His eyes dart to the jewellery box sitting on the edge of the desk, and he picks its lid up, inspecting what’s inside. Your usual jewellery is looking right back at his stupid face, as if it was mocking him for freaking out, but he notices some of the expensive jewellery he’s gifted you ever since you two got married, are gone. A bracelet, a few rings, a necklace and a brooch are gone. And then his eyes still on two pieces of jewellery, his heart dropping to his stomach as soon as he recollects his bearings.

Your wedding band and your engagement ring sit mockingly in the corner of the box, as if you had thrown them in without even looking where they landed, without even making sure if they made it inside the box before you sealed it closed. 

The thought of you purposefully leaving your rings behind makes him want to hurl, his mind running desperate tireless laps as he tries to understand what’s going on.

And then it dawns on him. You left. 

He puts the box back down with gentle hands, and he feels like the ceiling might have collapsed on him with the amount of heaviness he feels in his chest and stomach. Did you really leave? He wants to make sure before he loses his mind, so he checks a few of your drawers and the dressing room adjacent to the bedroom. He can see a few garments missing from each section of the wardrobe, noticing how one of your suitcases is also gone. 

Not knowing what to do, he walks back to the bedroom, his hands frantically going through his hair and eyes closing tightly in an attempt to find a way to calm himself down. His eyes so forcefully shut that he starts seeing spots as soon as he opens them again. 

He reaches for his phone, trying to look for you through your shared location. “God fucking Dammit,” he exhales when he opens the app.

You went as far as turning your location services off on all your devices, which you’ve never done before, not since he taught you how to turn them on ten years ago.

He dials your number in a miserable attempt to get a hold of you, but it goes to voicemail almost immediately. “Please pick up,” He doesn’t want to give up, so he dials your number a few more times before he gives in and leaves a message on your voicemail.

“Y/n, it’s me, please pick up,” and after five minutes of hopeful waiting, that maybe you’ll reach out to him out of pity more than anything else, he tries again.

“Y/n, it’s me, Hyuck,” he can feel his voice full of uncertainty. He clears his throat, “Where are you? I came home earlier wanting to talk, but I can’t find you anywhere, please call me back,”

An hour of waiting for you to give him a small sign, he feels like he’s losing his mind going back and forth in this damned bedroom.

“Y/n, please come home. At least call me back, tell me you’re safe. Please, please Y/n, call me back” he whispers into the phone before it gets cut off.

Donghyuck feels a tight knot forming in his stomach, only the thought of you not being safe makes him despise himself. If anything happened to you while being away because of him, he would never be able to forgive himself for doing this to you.

Noticing how time flew by, he checks his phone once again, even if you sent him a dry text he’d be happy because he’d know you’re safe enough to check your phone. There aren’t many places Donghyuck knows you’d choose as a safe place trying to put some space between the two of you, but he thinks of one where you could be at right now, and he quickly runs down the stairs and snatches his car keys, so distressed that he forgets to grab his coat.

There’s only one place where you could be, and he needs to see for himself.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun opens the door slightly, but then fully opens it for his friend to step in. “Not only did you steal my best friend, the one who was supposed to marry me at thirty-five in case we didn’t find anyone to get married to, but you’re now attempting to steal my time too,” he rolls his eyes at the man standing in front of him. 

“Steal your future wife?” Donghyuck frowns for a few seconds, processing what Renjun said. “What if she was the one stealing your future husband? What, Renjun, wasn’t I good enough for you?” Donghyuck touches his chest where his heart is, tsk-ing his disapproval with fake annoyance.

“Your ways of causing me disgust are always unbelievable,” Renjun fake gags, crossing his arms.

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Donghyuck sends a flying kiss, and Renjun is glad that they’re not standing next to each other right now because the two of them are close enough for Renjun to know that his friend would attempt to kiss him on any spot of his face that he can reach.

Donghyuck quickly drops the banter, curiously looking around the room, trying to find any of your objects that you could have carelessly left behind when he dropped by. In his head, you’re here somewhere, hiding from him. He hopes you are, and even if you came out and kicked him out the door, he’d be grateful because that way he’d know you are in a place where you are safe and sound.

And Renjun can’t help but notice Donghyuck’s dishevelled look, the locks on his head messily pointing in different directions, and of course there was the fact that he isn’t wearing a coat. He observes the way his friend’s eyes dart back and forth between various surfaces of his living room, and the way Donghyuck’s hands reach behind his head in an unconscious motion.

“So,” Renjun begins, “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck half laughs.

“I’m not dumb. You’re my best friends and you’re married to each other. You haven’t pestered me with stupid memes in the past days, and I’ve only heard from Y/n a couple of times,” he sees his friend’s face lighten up at the mention of your name, “So what did you do?”

“Why do you assume I’m the one in the wrong here?” 

Renjun scoffs, his friend’s almost offended tone not being that well received.

“You always do shit to hurt Y/n, so excuse me for giving her the benefit of the doubt,”

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck asks again, this time sober.

Renjun sighs, “I had to waltz around the two of you for a very long time, I lived with the two of you before,” he frowns, moving his hand between himself and Donghyuck, “I had to witness times when you hurt her feelings, maybe unknowingly, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but you did nonetheless. I had to pick up pieces you stepped on carelessly, while she gave herself to you on a silver platter. No, pardon me, a golden platter. Your sleeping around, your mindless jokes about it, your little remarks that played with her heart every time you complimented her while making promises to her, and the way she believed you without any second thoughts as if you wouldn’t forget about her and the promises made to her an hour later.” Renjun inhales sharply, recognising how he’s getting worked up, but these are things he’s been dying to say to his friend, and now is the perfect time to do so. 

“Don’t act dumb, Hyuck, I was there and I saw it all happen right before my eyes. Every time you promised her the sun, you left her hanging in the air, looking for you yet you were unreachable, avoiding her. I had to mend the pieces you fucked with, every single time. That’s why I was afraid when she told us she’d be getting married to you so suddenly and out of nowhere. I was scared for her wellbeing,” Renjun gulps, crossing his arms once again.

“So, whatever you did this time, I don’t care. I won’t help you in any way. I want her to be well and happy, and if she’ll reach out to me, I’ll be there for her. But you need to get your shit sorted, before it’s too late. If it isn’t already,”

Donghyuck inhales sharply, trying to digest every piece of information he’s found out from Renjun, on which he’ll mull over later when his nerves might calm down.

“Okay,” he surrenders, “I am getting my shit together, Renjun. I have been for the past few days,”

“It’s not long enough. A few days of meditating on your shitty actions won’t erase your wrongdoings,”

“I know, and that’s why I’m working on it, I’m doing this for her,” he starts taking a few steps towards the door, when he turns back to face Renjun, “If she calls you, just tell her to call me, please. I want her to be safe,” the sad look in his eyes are a sight Renjun never thought he’d see, especially from Donghyuck.

“I’ll see you around,” and with that, he gently closes the front door behind himself.

A few days pass, and Donghyuck has made an obsession with checking if you turned your location on again. You haven’t reached out to him, and neither did Renjun. He hopes that his friend would be considerate enough to reach out to him if he ever found out anything about you, but he’s left hanging. 

He hasn’t been able to eat much, only a few bites so as not to get stomach aches from hunger. He already had stomach aches just thinking about not having a clue about your whereabouts, he didn’t want to end up on a hospital bed because he couldn’t take a fucking nibble. The bottles of liquor and alcohol the two of you had agreed on keeping on a neat bar shelf in the corner of your living room were almost empty. He’s never felt more distraught, and the liquor only helped numbing his thoughts for a short amount of time, for they all came back to his mind as soon as he woke up from his drunken naps. Donghyuck hasn’t been able to sleep much either, that’s mainly why he drained almost every bottle of hard liquor in the house. He doesn’t want to forget anything about you, but his brain is his biggest enemy these days, and the only thing that can help him out is the thought that maybe, after the alcohol numbs him real good and puts him to sleep, he’ll wake up to you standing in front of him, holding him tight and telling him you forgive him and you want things to work out. Because he can do this, he can do anything you’d ask him, he can make this work. He loves you.

He left you more voicemails and texts, and all went unanswered. By the time the alcohol’s effects wore off, his muscles were already starting to ache from the countless times he fell asleep on the big carpet downstairs, on which he chose to rest in hopes of hearing your keys opening the front door. He was like a sick puppy. Waiting for the owner of his heart to come back home, because he knows you’ll eventually come back. He hopes, at least.

He stands to his feet, taking the empty bottle outside and sitting it carefully inside the bin, as to not make too much noise. His head feels like it’s being split in half, and his muscles beg for a hot shower, which he gladly plans to take after popping two advils from the medicine cabinet in one of the bathrooms downstairs. 

After using his favourite scent out of all your shower gel bottles lined up in the shower, he wraps a towel around his waist, walking back to the bedroom to pick up his phone. Your location is still off, and he decides to leave another voicemail for you, because if there’s any possibility of you listening to these voicemails, he wants to be sure he made everything in his power to reach out to you and make you realise how serious he is about everything.

One hand on his hip, while his teeth nibble on his bottom lip, he dials your number, waiting for the call to go to voicemail. Except this time the call goes through, ringing in his ears.

“Hello?” A male voice answers, and Donghyuck has to take a quick look at the phone’s screen to make sure he didn’t dial someone else.

This is your number.

“Y/n?” He inquires, a deep frown forming on his smooth forehead.

“Oh, Y/n’s in the shower right now, can I take a message?”

Donghyuck feels his throat run dry, and sharply exhales in an attempt to calm himself before he can regret anything that might come out of his mouth. Not only is the thought of your leaving destroying him, but to hear another man answering your phone might be the last thing he does before he goes insane. 

Who the fuck is it? Who is this man? He can't help but ask himself.  Who is it? Is it a friend of mine? But he doesn’t recognise the voice.

“Hello?” The voice on the other line rings in his ears, “Are you still there?”

“And who are you?” Donghyuck rasps, his voice raw with anger.

“Erm,” Donghyuck can feel uncertainty in the man’s tone, “I’m Sungchan. Can I take a message for Y/n?”

The mention of your name out of his mouth makes Donghyuck see red before his eyes. 

“Yes, Sungchan,” Donghyuck spits out with anger, “Can you tell Y/n to call home as soon as possible? This is her husband, Donghyuck, by the way,” after which he hangs up, throwing the phone across the room, not even bothering to pick it up again.

You get out of the shower, stepping on the hotel’s slippers, feeling refreshed after getting rid of the sweat residues on your skin, when you feel a knock on the bathroom door. You open it wide, seeing a frowning Sungchan leaning on the doorframe, clearly bothered by something.

“Sungchan?” You ask, combing your fingers through your wet hair. “Is everything okay?” 

You see him giving you a conflicted look, and he bites on his lip. “Your husband called. Why didn’t you tell me that you’re married?” He asks you, and you think the sky falls suddenly. It would be easier if he wasn’t looking at you right now, but his gaze is piercing, cold, and hurt.

“What?” You ask, but not because you didn’t hear it the first time, but because you need time to think how to explain everything to him.

Yes, you omitted this detail when you hooked up with Sungchan the first time, but it’s not like he deliberately asked you, ‘are you married?’. You and him were on the same flight to Chicago. You liked the attention he gave you at the airport, and he offered to show you around if you didn’t already have an itinerary planned out. So you accepted, and between some museums, jazz bars, and nice restaurants, you found yourself in bed with him.

With him, you got rid of all the stress you accumulated in the past months, and for the first time in years you even felt loved and appreciated.

Apart from the shame and regret of not being genuine with Sungchan from the very beginning that’s eating at you, there’s also the way he’s looking at you right now. Betrayed, hurt, on the verge of tears. 

How did Donghyuck’s hurting lead you into hurting other people? You knew Sungchan likes you, because he explicitly told you so, so why did you have to pull the same card your husband played on you?

“Sungchan,” you start, but no words can make up for the damage already done, because he pushes away from the doorway, going back to look for his clothes.

“I don’t want to hear it,” his voice trembles, sliding the pair of jeans on his long legs. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” he’s mostly talking to himself, and you’re left in the corner of the room in your towel only, watching as he gathers his things from your hotel room. 

“Never look for me again,” he walks past you, towards the door, not looking at you even once, “Go back to your husband, Y/n,”

And of course, what other fucking choice do you have?

You push your trolley through the entrance hallway, leaving it at the foot of the staircase, making your way towards the living room. You enter the room, empty and messy, and you can see that Donghyuck has been spending more time at home now than he did before. His clothes are scattered on the couch, a sock is thrown carelessly behind one of the houseplants while the other is resting under the coffee table. He’s not here, but you can sense the smell of steak, and you can hear him humming something in the other room.

You enter the kitchen, that’s empty and messy, and then you hear Donghyuck’s voice ring a bit louder in your ears. You walk around the kitchen island, sliding the kitchen door open and you exit on the patio, scaring Donghyuck.

He’s grilling steak on the patio, dancing around with a huge grilling fork, getting scared when he heard the door slide shut behind you. 

“You’re home, baby,” he uses his saccharine voice, and you throw your phone on the wooden table next to the grill.

“Cut the crap,” you snarl, pulling a chair to sit, and you plop down while pointing at your phone, “I called you, you didn’t pick up,” you bite on your cheek, in a desperate attempt to keep your cool and not blow this fucking patio up.

“I didn’t pick up, nope” he makes a popping sound at the end, using a piece of cardboard to vent the meat on the grill.

“Then why all the voicemails pleading me to call you back? If you can’t fucking pick up?” You bark, but he doesn’t flinch at your tone.

“I didn’t pick up because I broke it,” he explains calmly before turning around to look at you, “I sort of got upset after a phone call. How’s your friend, by the way? Sungchan, was it?” He asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Do not fucking say his name,” you threaten, looking at him like you’re ready to jump him.

“Do not fucking look at me like that, Y/n” he threatens back, placing his hands on the wooden table. “I’m you fucking husband!” He raises his voice.

“And I’m your fucking wife!” You scream at him, while standing to your feet. Your nose is flaring with anger, and when your gaze meets his you feel the familiar suffocating lump in your throat. “In the last year, how many times did you consider yourself to be my husband?” You ask accusingly, pointing a finger in his direction. “How many times did you think you had a wife waiting for you at home, when you were with other women?” You cry out, biting on your lip in order to not let all the sobs run past your lips. “How many times, Donghyuck, did I turn a blind eye on your indiscretions? The times you came back home smelling like other women, marks on your skin, the amount of times you didn’t come home for long periods of time?”

“So you think you’re better than me if you just run away with another man?” He raises his voice at you once again, slamming a hand on the wooden table.

You’re honestly appalled at how he’s trying to turn this on you. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You ask calmly, your tears not flowing anymore. “You’re trying to blame me but you don’t see the root of the problem here. So it’s okay for you to do it for months, and then when I do it once it’s suddenly a problem?” You can’t look at him any more, feeling too upset to even spare him a glance. 

You notice the alcohol bottles sitting around the bin, and you suppose they’re there because the bin is already full.

“Are you drunk?” You ask in disbelief. You swear he seemed sober when he shouted at you just a few minutes ago.

“Do I look like I’m fucking drunk right now?” He asks exasperated. “Not now anyway, but I did drink waiting for your fucking call, Y/n” he points the grilling fork in your direction, as if he’s accusing you of something. “I waited, and I waited, and I waited for you call, but you just ignored me. You come home one day telling me that you don’t care who I’m with just for you to secretly leave to get with another man. What kind of pure and innocent role are you playing, Y/n? Telling me it’s alright just so you have your peace of mind while doing the same thing I do, because you thought you laid your cards on the table and allowing me to do it would exempt you from guilt?” He accuses you with an extremely calm tone. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Y/n, but what was I supposed to do? You left your fucking rings at home and took off!” He shouts again, and you realise you’ve never had a fight this intense with Donghyuck, with so much shouting. You don’t even think you’ve heard Donghyuck’s shout except for the one he lets out when he’s trying to be funny. Two completely different tones.

“So what? You kept your ring on when you were fucking around?” You bite back, and he doesn’t say anything else.

You decide there’s no way you want to continue the fight. At this point you’re not sure if whatever you and Donghyuck have is worth fighting for. You turn around, not even looking at him again, and go towards the staircase to go to your room. 

“Where are you going? Y/n?” He comes after you, calling your name and trying to grab you by the arm, “I made steak!”

“You can shove it up you ass!” You retort, getting out of his grasp, going up on the stairs and leaving him like a lost puppy.

You sit on the carpet at the foot of your bed, not even bothering to turn the lights on. You know you want to be alone right now, but you know that you’d rather be alone in this huge house instead of having Donghyuck downstairs.

You feel like the love you carry for Donghyuck is consuming you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. He can be the biggest idiot in this world and you would still love him. He can be the one to have a huge screaming match with and you’d still forgive him, and love him. Your pain is amplified when you recall the fight you two just had, because everything he said earlier is true. You told him to do whatever he wants because you knew you could go find solace in Sungchan's presence, you wouldn’t be alone anymore, and you could start doing whatever Donghyuck was doing without thinking twice. Just like he did. And what pains you the most is the fact that he made it sound like you were the one who cheated on him first.

And okay, you’re technically not together. But would it be so hard for him to acknowledge you once in a while? Would it be hard for him to stop thinking with his dick and just open his eyes to see that you’re right here, everything he would ask for, you’d give him on a golden platter. But again, maybe he doesn’t feel the same way towards you, and it’s better not to know this instead of having your feelings hurt to a point of no return. 

And Sungchan. That poor soul. You feel so sorry for treating him like this, and you feel even worst for making him feel the same way Donghyuck has made you feel up to this point. Sungchan left so abruptly that you didn’t have the chance to tell him the truth. Yes, your husband called, but guess what? He’s not really your husband. It sounds pathetic. You wish you could at lest have told him the truth, about the nature of the relationship between you and Donghyuck, but you guess you had it coming — because not once did you think about bringing your marriage, albeit fake, up to Sungchan, and you had more occasions than you can count on two hands.

You feel conflicted. You feel like the best thing for you would be getting away from Donghyuck as soon as possible. He brings out the worst side of you. The jealous, possessive side, that really has no business existing. Because it’s a fake one, this marriage shouldn’t make you feel like a miserable fool. It shouldn’t affect you the way it does, you’ve only known sadness and jealousy in the past months and it’s really not fair, not when Donghyuck doesn’t care about you and your marriage as much as you do. But at the same time, even if you think it’s best to get away, you just can’t. You’re so used to being with Donghyuck that he has become a part of you, and walking away from him would feel like walking around with just one leg instead of two.

You’re sobbing into your own hands, feeling like the world just collapsed, and you don’t sense Donghyuck coming up the stairs towards your room.

“Y/n, I want to talk,” he opens the door just slightly, waiting for you to say something, but he doesn’t hear an answer, “Can we talk?” 

“Go away,” You scoff, raising your head from your hands, bringing your knees to your chest. You notice him stepping carefully inside the room, the light on the hallway brightening your room just a little. He’s carrying your suitcase, the one you left at the foot of the staircase, and he puts it behind the door, before he comes next to you and decides to sit down.

He’s so close you can smell him, even if your nose is stuffy from all the crying. His arm is touching yours, and he brings one of his legs up to imitate your position. You don’t look him in the eye, but your tears keep streaming down your face uncontrollably, and you bite your lip trying not to let the sobs escape you.

He extends one hand, touching the arm closest to him, squeezing slightly.

“Lets talk about this,” he shushes you as soon as you try to reply back, and pats your head with careful gestures, “Come here,” he instructs, and your body responds immediately, like you wouldn’t even need a brain, just Donghyuck to tell you what to do and give out commands for you to follow.

Your face falls in the crook of his neck, and the moment you face touches his skin your tears are unstoppable. He continues to shush you, to tell you to let it all out, to tell you that everything’s okay.

And while you’re in his arms, and he holds you like this, showing you that he does indeed care about you, maybe you believe his words — that everything will be okay, just this once.

“Y/n, I know you can’t talk right now, so I will do the talking, okay?” He asks, but when he doesn’t get a reply back he promptly squeezes your arms to get an answer out of you. Between all the sobs and tears damping his skin and t-shirt, you give him a thumbs up — a sign that he should go on and talk, and it makes him laugh. The beautiful crystalline laugh you love so much.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you, and I know I’ve said this a lot lately but I will keep saying this a lot in the future too. I’m also sorry for talking to you the way I did earlier, raising my voice and pointing my finger when I’m not really the one who should be speaking,” he continues to caress your back while you’re all crouched into his side, your head still glued to the side of his neck. But he doesn’t mind the dampness, he doesn’t mind the sobbing you’re letting out right next to his ear. He doesn’t mind keeping you this close.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess, and then making you feel like I don’t appreciate you or like I don’t care about you. Because I do, Y/n. You’d be surprised if you could hear the things my mind is coming up with when I think about you.” He kisses the top of your head, and you feel his breath fanning over your forehead and cheeks for a little while.

“I’m sorry for ruining whatever you had with Sungchan, and I’m sorry to tell you that this last part is a lie. I’m lying Y/n, because knowing you could be happy far and away from me is making me go insane little by little. I’m an idiot for saying this when I’m the one in the wrong here,” he pauses, and you can hear him gulping.

“I need to be completely honest with you, I think I owe you this, and then if you want to walk away you can. You’re free to do whatever you want, you have your share of the money and it’s up to you whatever you decide to do,” you listen to him, holding your breath for a bit while waiting for him to go on, but your tears stopped flowing.

“The day I made breakfast for you, do you remember that?” You nod, stretching an arm across his stomach to get in a more comfortable position — and you really just wanted to hug him, “I was going to have a talk with you. The previous days, when I basically went missing, I reflected on a lot of things and I was ready to ask you if we could try to do this marriage thing for real this time, but you didn’t even let me speak,” he giggles, and once you register all his words your breath is caught in your throat.

“And then you went missing and I was so worried about you, Y/n. Never do that to me again,” he warns you, and you squeeze him tighter out of instinct. “You can do whatever you want Y/n, I mean it. You can forget I said anything about being for real in this marriage, you can decline all my apologies but I’ll forever feel sorry for putting you through this,”

You push yourself up from his body to finally look at him, and he looks at you with big sparkly eyes, touching his chest with his left hand, and you can see his ringed finger shining in the dim lights filtering through from the hallway. You love him, that’s a confirmed fact. Especially now after you got to hear everything he had to say.

“So how are you going to fix this?” You whisper, not really knowing how you should approach this whole situation.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks, his face getting a bit closer to your figure. He gets so close to you that you can smell his cologne perfectly once again. 

“I do, but” you whisper, and you can sense he’s holding his breath, “did you mean it, what you said about doing this,” you point between the two of you, “doing it for real?”

“Yes,” he answers with no hesitation, “I meant everything I said,”

“So let me ask again,” you get closer to his face, smirking as you can feel his breath fanning over your face once again, but this time you look him in the eye, “how are you going to fix this?” 

“I have a few ways,” he smirks at you, taking the bait you’ve just thrown him.

Everything happens really fast. You don’t have time to register the moment he seals his lips over yours, kissing you fervently as he gently grasps the side of your neck to bring you closer. You snicker as you feel his lips eagerly moving on top of yours, and your poor attempt at trying to gasp for air is swallowed by his relentless warm lips. 

He breaks the kiss, giving you both a chance to breathe, and he stands to his feet, dragging you with him. His lips capture yours once again, but this time he doesn’t lose any more time, his tongue sliding carefully on your bottom lip, asking for your permission. You grant it almost immediately, and he moans into the kiss as soon as his tongue waltzes with yours, his plump lips sucking on your tongue before releasing it with a pop sound, and going back to nibble on your bottom lip.

He lets your lips go once again, grabbing a strand of your hair to play with.

“I’ve wanted to be like this for a long time,” he mumbles, looking at the strand he’s holding between his fingers, “Will you let me take care of you, Y/n?” He rasps, and the look you give him is enough for him to understand your answer. “Lay down for me,” he instructs, pushing you slightly until the back of your knees touch the mattress, and you follow his orders.

He sets himself on top of you, and you wrap your legs around his waist out of instinct. His hands reach for your waistline, roaming carefully towards your hips, where he stops to squeeze tenderly. He leans forward once again, but this time he catches your lips in a sweet, short kiss, repeating the action a few times before moving his juicy lips to your jaw, nibbling on your neck as he moves his ministrations further and further down. 

You stifle a moan when his hot mouth reaches the neckline of your top that’s barely covering your breasts now that you’re laying down. Once again, Donghyuck puts his tongue to work, making the wet muscle trace the neckline, leaving wet smears across your hot skin.

His hands reach for the hem of your top, raising it higher on your torso up to your bust. His cold fingertips massage the delicate and silky skin up from your lower abdomen all the way to the underside of your breasts, where the underband of your bra is sticking uncomfortably to your skin.

“Let’s take this off, baby,” he commands, pulling on the fabric that’s covering your bra.

You comply to his orders, getting rid of the top as efficiently as possible, and you hear Donghyuck sucking his teeth, his head hanging low once again to be on the same level as your chest. He continues his actions, tracing his tongue around the cups of your bra, returning to the middle of your chest, where he presses his wet lips on the delicate spot between your tits, proceeding to lick a stripe all the way to your neck and jaw. He captures your lips in a smooth kiss, moving greedily trying to savour every little sound and breathy moans you let out. Your hands reach for his head, your fingers comb through his hair, fingertips massaging his scalp, and he can’t help but moan into your touch. The sound gets swallowed by your mouth moving confidently over his, sucking on his tongue, taking everything he’s willing to give you.

He breaks the kiss, holding a mischievous look in his gaze, instructing you to get rid of your bra and jeans while he gets up on his knees to get rid of his t-shirt. With his tanned, toned arms and abdomen on display, you reach out to get a chance to touch and trace his soft skin, but he slaps your hands away and leans forward towards your stomach, on which he places short, open mouth kisses all the way to the band of your panties. 

He kneels at the foot of the bed, dragging you by your hips towards himself, and holds your legs together before leaning in onto your clothed core. The action has you moaning, and he keeps moving his nose against the crotch of the underwear in repeated motions, his nose bumping against your clit every single time, and it sends a tingling sensation throughout your body, pleasure bubbling fast in your lower stomach.

“Hyuck,” you moan his name, not thinking you can resist his actions much longer.

He smiles hearing you moaning his name, but decides to halt his actions nonetheless. He grabs your panties and pulls them down, the cold air in the room making contact with your wet folds. He folds your wet underwear carelessly and shoves them in the front pocket of his sweats, leaning forward for his mouth to start moving slowly on your core. His plump lips suck on your clit gently, twirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves. Your pussy clenches around nothing, his relentless actions building the pressure in your muscles, and you’re approaching your release fast, your hip buck into his mouth, chasing the delicious pleasure you’re about to be rewarded with soon. 

Donghyuck can feel his dick hard and throbbing in his boxers, but he doesn’t touch himself — he'd rather wait to be touched by you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he moans with his mouth still glued to your core, his tongue licking long stripes along your entrance and clit, stopping to show extra care to the latter. And the pet name on his lips is everything you needed in order to cum. 

His dick throbs hearing the sounds you make while you cum, his name on your lips feels like a mantra, like a chant full of praise, music to his ears.

“You’re insane,” you breathe out, grabbing him by the hair to detach him from your core when he doesn’t seem to have any faint intention of stopping his laps on your clit.

“You haven’t even seen half of it yet,” he grins and smirks, his chin glistens with a mix of your arousal and release. He licks his lips, deciding to cut you some slack until you come down from your high.

You look at him, and you lick your lips seeing his grey sweats hanging low on his tanned hips, a wet patch placed in the front on his crotch, indicating his arousal.

You pull him closer to you, latching your lips with his, sucking and pulling on his bottom lip, tasting yourself off his lips as his mouth moves rhythmically against yours.

You push him slightly off you, instructing him to get on the bed. You look at his figure again. What a great day to be wearing sweats, you think. 

“Get these off for me,” you say, but it sounds more like a question. He giggles, but complies without having to be asked twice. He gets his boxers off of the way at the same time with his sweats, his dick falling heavy on his abdomen. You take a look at his cock, licking your lips unconsciously as you stare at the veins stretching along his length, precum leaking from his rosy tip. You reach for it, your palm aching to stroke him before you get a taste of him. But Donghyuck has other plans.

“Want you on my cock,” he grunts, bucking his hips up in your hand as soon as it wraps around his shaft, “Think you can ride me, baby?” He asks, and you’re more than eager to do it if it means seeing him so dishevelled underneath you, and you’re the cause. 

You nod, and he extends one hand to help you keep your balance as you bring your weight on top of his lap, waiting for him to line his shaft with your entrance. His tip enters you and you have to stop for a bit to adjust to the girth. You sink lower on top of his shaft, your pussy throbbing around it, and Donghyuck has to suck a breath through his teeth and pray to god you won’t take long to get used to his size. You’re so tight, Donghyuck is too excited to last for too long, he knows this already.

You start riding him, your juices are enough for his shaft to slide in and out of you with ease, and one of his hands reaches up to your chest to grab one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting it and putting the right amount of pressure that gets a whimper out of you. 

His mouth latches to your other nipple, sucking on it, his tongue swirls around the teat bringing a new wave of pleasure that has you arching your back and temporarily halting your rhythmic movements on top of Donghyuck’s shaft. Moaning, he sucks harsher on your nipple when he feels you stopping, so you resume your movements even if you can feel your thighs burning. A new wave of pleasure runs through your body  when you hear his moans against the frail skin of your chest, one of his hands placed on the small of your back trying to guide your movements as he can sense you’re tired. 

“Feels so fucking good,” he moans, looking up at you. You’re looking at him briefly, then you push him slightly to get him to lay down. You bring a pretty manicured hand up to his chest, steadying yourself as you keep your relentless and delicious moving of your hips against his. You mewl out a moan as your clit hits the base of his cock, and your head falls back making your hair bounce around yourself.

His body feels on fire, his heartbeat picking up its rhythm. “I think —” you hear him start, but is interrupted by one of your raw moans. “I love you,” he blurts out, and hearing those words coming out of his mouth makes the tension in your tummy burst, and the rhythm of your hips starts faltering. He grabs your arms with force and brings your upper body on top of his, your chests clashing on top of each other’s as he searches for your lips. 

He needs them like he needs air, especially after the words that slipped past his lips. He pulls you closer, one hand grabbing your waist to keep you in place as his hips start bucking up inside of you, and another hand keeping your head in the crook of his neck as you still ride your orgasm. He chases his own climax, and the relentless throbbing of your pussy around his shaft as you ride your orgasm helps him burst deep inside of you, moaning out your name as he holds your body tightly.

You stay in his embrace a little longer, until the clarity starts hitting you, replaying the last moments in your mind. You fall next to Donghyuck, your head still resting on his shoulder, a leg still stretched on his stomach as you both try regaining your bearings.

You raise your head to look at him, only to find him already looking down at you. 

“Did you really say you loved me?” You enquire, believing that’s a figment of your imagination.

“I did,” he whispers back, unmoving while keeping you close to him, his eyes big and sparkly.

“But isn’t it —“ you make a pause, trying to find the right words, “too soon? How do I know that you really mean it?”

“How do you know?” He repeats slowly, and then averts his gaze to look around the room for a few seconds. He sits up, getting off the bed, coming to your side of the bed so he can face you properly. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, looking at him quizzically, trying to understand what goes on in that mind of his. 

“Shut up, I’m about to do the most pathetic and embarrassing thing just for you,” he pouts at you, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of bed, “I need you to stand in front of me otherwise it won’t be embarrassing enough,”

“Seriously Hyuck, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You sigh, and you look at your naked silhouettes standing in front of each other like a pair of sims in the making.

“I have my flaws, and you know the already. I did a lot of shitty stuff to you, and I apologised for all. But you also have to remember…” he leaves the sentence up in the air for a bit, “That I’m also just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him,” he finishes his monologue, waiting for your reaction.

At first, you're speechless. Then the moment sinks in, and you can’t help but let a surprised laugh escape you as you reach for him. 

You grab his face, bringing him closer to you to give him a quick peck on the lips. 

“I love you too,” you let him know, but there’s a glint in your eyes that lets him know you’re never going to let him live this moment down, and he braces himself for impact, “But please never pull an Anna Scott on me, ever again!”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i loved writing this, i am emotionally attached to this story now T-T i love hyuck and i hope reading this was worth your time. feedback and engagement is always recommended and highly appreciated! thank you guys for signing up for the taglist and reading this piece <3 and you might have already guessed, but sungchan's instalment is related to the female oc (reader) in this, but more will come out with his teaser. if you have questions about this fic, my ask box is always open!

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©️ kongjjen 2024. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

[injunism]

obsession (hjp)

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader AU (18+)

summary: harry potter (19) is attending university after hogwarts, and isn't recovering well from the war. completely alone, harry soon grows attached to you, the girl from his potions class. however, his attachment quickly turns to obsession, and harry isn't sure how much longer he can be just friends.

content warning: smut!!! perverted thoughts/acts, shame, masturbation, stalking, obsession, yearning/pining, intoxication, jealousy, stealing panties, dry humping, cumming in pants, oral sex, overstimulation, penetration, creampie

a/n: sooo i wrote over 19k words in like 2 days. but i haven't written a proper fanfic in literal years so please be kind. heavilyyy inspired by "never have i ever" from @selfcarecap , please go read it when you have the chance!! this is very much a SLOW BURN, do not proceed if you do not thoroughly enjoy pining…ft. a shy, inexperienced, slightly obsessive university student harry who has jealousy issues and perverted tendencies but is still such a complete gentleman…some of this might not be book/movie accurate…sue me...

song: Do Friends Fall In Love? - Rachael & Vilary

harry's expectations of university weren't very high to begin with, but he didn't expect it to be this shit.

there were limited options for him since he had no desire of leaving the U.K. to further his career as an auror. and since the only 2 schools that offered a program for him were either an old, run-down campus in the middle of nowhere or an overpopulated city school known for its infamously average quidditch team, his decision wasn't difficult.

the dorms, however, made him reconsider entirely.

though harry was grateful to have a solo room, it was entirely bleak and smelled vaguely of mildew. one tiny window he's unable to open past a few inches and a depressing overhead fluorescent bulb was enough to have him searching the other university's dormitory information, only to be just as disappointed with the result.

harry gets over it quickly, as it becomes fitting to his mental state at the time. plain, cold, and unforgiving, harry feels like it's what he deserves to live in after everything he's seen.

to say harry hadn't been doing well after the war was a criminal understatement. his whole life had been leading up to and dedicated towards killing voldemort before he killed harry first. in that time, he held a purpose and drive to fulfill everyone's expectations of him. and, once he did, he was left with nothing.

voldemort had consumed harry's entire life, and the lives of everyone around him as well. though they technically both died, harry had the choice to live again. after he made that choice, he was never the same.

the relationships around him were changed forever. he lost friends. he lost family. he lost himself. and yet, life continued.

applying for university felt so silly to harry at the time. he had just fought in a war and died, and now he had to sign up for 9 a.m. transfiguration classes. to say he was uninterested was putting it lightly.

it didn't help that he knew no one there. it was nobody's first choice school by any means, and it didn't exactly have the best reputation. his classmates fizzled out into other schools or already had jobs, like ron…

ron and hermione. seems like lately wherever hermione went, ron followed. of course she got accepted into some of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, with some practically begging her to pick them over the others.

in the end she chose westminster, a legendary university along the northern ireland coast that saw many great members of the ministry in its time. harry's school was practically the furthest it could've been from her all things considered.

ron worked for the ministry office in the area like his father, though he was more like an assistant or secretary than an active member. still, he was paid well and ultimately he and hermione were able to find a place near both of their priorities that worked well for them.

harry knew he wouldn't see them very often at this point. no matter, his relationship with them had long since changed, and not for the better. ron had lost his brother and hermione had lost her parents. once the calm settled after the storm, there was a lingering tension between him and them that went unmentioned for over a year before they split ways silently.

harry still talked to hermione towards the end, mainly to discuss ron and his grief. harry knew the growing coldness between him and his friend wasn't unjustified. harry felt a level of guilt that he previously thought was impossible when it came to fred, and though ron never out right blamed harry, it was just never the same between them.

harry knew their relationship wasn't completely at a loss. like hermione told him, it just needed time. once they both process what happened they can always come back to each other.

but for now, harry was alone. completely and utterly alone.

his first day of classes were confusing, boring, and packed with students. seriously, every seat in every lecture hall was filled, and the hallways were just a mess. the sidewalks weren't much better with too many people being too loud, walking too slow or too fast. in the end, harry was exhausted by the time he showed up for his last class of the day.

another packed room despite his effort to be there earlier than he planned. rather than a lecture hall like all his other classes that day, this last one was set up with plenty of tables and cauldrons. potions. harry loved this class at hogwarts. as his eyes scanned the room for an empty seat, he felt eyes fixated on him from every direction.

though he looks like the same harry potter everyone's read about, he's completely different now. his once bright eyes and radiant smile have been replaced with eye bags and unkempt facial hair. both his short beard and his overgrown hair gave him a messy, disheveled appearance that was rougher than people remember. but, as always, the glasses had never left, and neither had his scar.

ignoring the curious glances and whispers, harry takes a seat towards the middle of the room at an empty table. as more students filed in, his table became the last place to sit. he couldn't help but feel like an outsider, his first day and he already had a reputation.

as the final bell rings, the last student comes walking through the doorway.

it's you.

you're walking quickly, rushing into the classroom just as the ringing of the bell comes to an end. right behind you is the professor, a man of small stature with an impressive beard yet bald head.

"ms. [y/l/n]." he simply states.

you stop in your tracks, a look of defeat crossing your face as you slowly turn to him.

"professor rodden." you respond cheerfully. "it's nice to see you."

he looks unimpressed with your tone.

"we should try to be a bit more punctual next class period, hm?" he asks condescendingly.

harry is taken aback by the immediately intense interaction between the two of you. there's clearly an established relationship there that doesn't seem to be positive.

he can't see the look on your face as your back is turned to him, but he can hear the forced smile in your voice as you cordially respond, "of course. my apologies."

you turn on your heel, facing harry as you quickly find your seat across from him at his table. with all eyes on you, harry looks away and at the front of the room towards professor rodden.

rodden had an indistinguishable look on his face about the situation, but quickly moved on with introducing the class. as he shut the door and began writing on the board, harry took a moment to look back at you.

somewhere in that time you had pulled out a book and ink pen as you began taking notes. your hair fell around your face as you concentrated on your penmanship; a slight furrow of your brows and pursing of your lips.

you were gorgeous. he couldn't deny it.

something about the way you got lost in your notes was so mesmerizing to him. the intense exchange between you and the professor seemed to have no effect on you as you continued to scrawl your thoughts onto parchment. harry couldn't imagine himself being so calm as to just begin jotting down notes immediately after such a conflict.

his eyes flickered from your concentrated expression to your ferociously moving hand, writing line by line in succession without so much as a second's pause. he had to admit he was impressed with you, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it.

finally, you felt his curious gaze on you.

looking up at him, harry's struck with how beautiful your eyes were. his heart jumps along with his stomach, he's never had such a physical reaction to someone's features before. you're just, so…right. like everything about you just makes sense together.

harry's used to people recognizing him pretty quickly, mostly before he even sees them first. it almost feels like having a big sign taped to his back that says "harry potter, the boy who lived twice". but, you…you just looked at him. simply looking, nothing more.

he felt so see-through at that moment, like you were looking right past him. he could feel his heart thumping, and would be surprised if you couldn't hear it for yourself.

you give him the most casual smile in the world, barely an acknowledgement of his existence in that moment, and yet it fills him with something entirely warm and familiar. he's sure he looks completely lost staring at you, turning his head at the last moment to relieve you of his gaze.

it's a simple, introductory, first day of class. you're all let out half an hour early with no assignment other than to show up for the next, real class on wednesday.

as you're packing up to leave, harry is back and forth between introducing himself to you or letting you leave. surely you'll talk to him at some point during this class, right? especially if no one else seems to sit with you two for the rest of the semester.

but, as you turn your back to him to leave, he makes the split second decision that he can't let you leave without a proper introduction.

quickly gathering his books, harry follows you out the door along with the ridiculous amount of students flooding the halls. scrambling for a reason to talk to you, harry catches up to your left side as you look over at him with surprise.

"how does rodden have it out for you already, hm?"

it's a genuine question he has, but he's not sure it's a great topic to bring up during your first interaction.

looking up at him as you both walk away from the classroom, your cheeks go red as you chuckle dryly to yourself and look away. "oh, arthur?" you ask.

harry's shocked. not just at the way you're looking at him, but the boldness of calling your university professor by their first name so casually. he doesn't know how to respond.

"he's a total wanker," you say with a smirk. "had him 3 semesters in a row now and he just…ugh," you groan, rolling your eyes. harry is even more at a loss. he's surely never called anyone a wanker, let alone a professor, but he can't help himself from laughing at your frustration.

"oh? what's so bad about him?" harry asks as he continues to follow you outside, a cool breeze blowing your hair back in the most cinematic moment harry's ever experienced in real life. as you look up at him, your eyes catch the sunlight and practically melt him on the spot. his breathing hitches at your shy smile and rosy cheeks, and he just couldn't understand how a human could look like that so casually.

"honestly, he's not so bad. he's actually quite a good professor…" you say with a twinge of guilt, turning to look ahead of you. "he just doesn't like me, i guess. we don't see eye to eye, to put it kindly." you laugh it off.

harry doesn't understand. you seem like such a pleasure to be around, and he's only known you these past few minutes. how could anyone dislike you? especially when they're looking into those eyes.

he continues to walk with you, asking about your classes and what your schedule's like. no other classes together, to harry's disappointment, but it's because you're a year above him.

"wow, have any advice for a first year, then?" he asks. it feels like a bit of a silly question, but he just wants to keep talking to you.

you chuckle, like you do after everything he says. he's not sure what to make of it, hoping it's that you truly do find him that funny. "well, i guess i would just tell you to study constantly, keep to yourself, but don't take any shit." you smirk at him again.

he likes that advice. he can already tell you're the type to not let anyone push you around, like with rodden. he likes that about you. you're a bit more confident than him, and you're not afraid to be bold despite your naturally sweet, gentle nature. you're funny, witty, intelligent, and, of course, unbelievably beautiful.

harry just keeps coming back to it through your walking and talking together. every time he looks at you he instantly loses his place in time. it's like everything goes quiet for just that split second that you're looking at him. he's never felt like this, but he's practically addicted to the feeling after the 10 minutes it took for him to walk you to your next class.

before parting ways, he asks for your name. "well, it's nice to meet you then, [y/n]. i'm–" "harry, right?" you ask sarcastically, giving him a cheeky smile. normally that answer would have left him defeated, you already knowing who he was, but for some reason, it didn't feel so bad this time. you never acted like you knew him once this whole conversation. you just let him talk and ask questions without feeling like he was anyone special.

well, of course he felt special. when you looked at him, that is.

he didn't want to let you leave, it physically hurt him to say goodbye. but he wasn't about to creep you out already. no, he had to make a good impression with you. so, he simply turned around and walked away, knowing he would see you again soon.

and as harry walked to his potions class that next wednesday, he had the biggest pep in his step he's had in a while. you'd think there was a tree full of presents waiting for him in that classroom the way he practically jogged through the maze of people between him and you.

as soon as he walked in, he saw you.

how could you get even more beautiful than you were before? he's actually taken aback for a moment as he makes eye contact with you. his heart is so loud in his ears it's deafening. as he slowly makes his way towards the table left for you two, he can't help the goofy smile that spreads across his lips.

"[y/n]." he says, letting it roll of his tongue. you smile warmly at him, your eyes softening. "harry. it's nice to see you again," you chirp.

he's just mesmerized by you yet again, the way you say his name is like a song he never wants to turn off. he's pretty much in complete awe of you as he sits across from your seat.

you chat a bit before class starts, an introduction to your first experiment. professor rodden explains that each table of four will split into partners for each assignment. as harry instinctively looks at you, he's already meeting your eager gaze.

he can't help it when he smiles like a fool at you. he can just hardly believe someone as amazing as you would want to spend even more time with him.

after class, you gush to harry about how excited you are to be potion partners together. his face completely flushes as he tries to return the sentiment, thanking whatever luck he has in this universe to be deserving of this opportunity to be with you all semester, twice a week at least, not including outside studying and walking you to your next class.

that night, after exchanging numbers with you to "discuss class", he finds himself staring at the number you scrawled on a ripped piece of notebook paper along with your name. he just holds it for a while, tracing the curves of your name with his eyes. you're just so amazing to him in every little way.

weeks later, harry is a wreck.

you see, he's become, well…completely obsessed with you. every moment he spends awake is spent thinking about you. in the midst of hours-long homework sessions or mind-numbingly long exams, all he wants to do is think about you.

you two have become increasingly close over time, figuring out your commonalities and learning about each other's interests. you invited him to your dorm and he was amazed at your ability to dress up such a desolate space. it felt warm, inviting, and quickly became a common place for you two to spend your time together.

you also bonded over food, and would often meet up for lunches or dinners and sometimes even breakfast if you were up early enough to respond to his calls.

and you two were always studying together, you really inspired him to stay on top of his classes not only to keep up with you but to also impress you. he really admired your work ethic as a second year and would always ask for your help with assignments.

of course it was nice to have help, but he mainly just wanted you to sit closer to him, your breath hitting his cheek as you explained something complicated to him in your soft voice, pointing at the book that sat in his lap. you could read the most boring textbook to him and make it sound like the most interesting piece of literature in the world.

a lot of things he did were mostly just an excuse to have you pay attention to him in some way. if he felt a bit unwell, he'd play it up a bit to get your sympathy and a back rub. he still gets the most insane goosebumps thinking about your hands all over him.

if he was hungry, he was suddenly starvinggg and needed one of your amazing grilled cheese's made in the student common room kitchen. you would roll your eyes every time, reminding him that you don't do anything special to it, but he insists it's better because you make it specifically for him.

in short, he was head over heels for you. he pretty much knew that first day you two met that he was already smitten with you, but it took a while for him to fully realize just how deep he'd gotten himself into this.

not only had he learned your entire class schedule without asking you directly, he knew your schedule outside of class as well. not through any disrespectful tactics, he just so happened to always study at the library next to your dorm building with a perfect view of the door you go in and out of.

he also knew who all of your friends were, at least the ones he's seen you with so far. it's not difficult when the university yearbook practically gives away their books for free to get rid of them. that's also how he found out what clubs and organizations you're apart of, and knew exactly what to ask you to get you to talk about them with him.

see, some might see this and think harry's a bit creepy or overstepping some boundaries. and harry would agree.

he constantly feels guilty when it comes to his feelings for you. he's a complete gentleman when he's with you, but then he turns around and becomes this incessant stalker who needs to know what you're doing at all times.

that's not even the worst part. he feels so, so incredibly guilty about the thoughts he has of you.

harry's not one to feel shame from lust or masturbation, he doesn't have much experience with that stuff anyways so he never really understood the hype around it.

but now, things are different.

he's had random erections before, and he's gotten riled up from previous makeout sessions, but now, he was constantly horny.

all it took was an innocent look from you and he was hard. you often sat in your bed with him as you two studied and insisted on having a leg or arm touching him at all times, which made him completely hot and bothered. certain tones of voice you use or things you say to him can completely melt his brain on the spot.

this isn't meant to brag, harry felt truly awful for these one-sided thoughts. he felt like such a stereotypical man who thinks with his dick. the last thing he wanted was to make you think he saw you in a sexual way at all; he hated your stories about guys who only turned out to be sex fiends with no respect towards you. his blood boiled to think about it, actually, and swore to himself he would always be your friend first despite what he may feel towards you.

this is where the guilt was heaviest. you were constantly saying he was your best mate, one of your closest friends, someone you can really trust, and he held that so close to his heart. above all else, he cared about you so deeply. he wanted to keep you safe.

so when he started to think these thoughts or feel these feelings, harry beat himself up. how could he truly be a good friend to you if he was just so obsessed with you in every way?

you two had just finished up the last steps of your potion experiment for professor rodden's class in the library that harry frequented by your dorm building. as you and harry are talking and packing up to leave, you look out the wall of windows and laugh.

"hey, look. you can see my dorm perfectly from here." you say, pointing towards your building. harry freezes, feeling his mind go blank as you look back at him with a laugh. "little creepy," you say with a smirk, lifting your bag over your shoulder and the rest of your books in your arms.

harry is still frozen, terrified you're going to somehow figure out that that's exactly what he's been doing for the past month now.

"yeah, weird." is all he managed to get out.

as he walks you into your dorm, he barely has the door closed before you start taking your shirt off right in front of him, not even 3 feet away.

harry immediately turns around, letting the door close in front of him. "oh, sorry." he quickly mutters, his heart racing yet again. he didn't even see anything crazy, just the small of your back and the navy of your bra, but it was enough to immediately get him worked up.

he hears you laugh behind him, opening up your drawer. "you don't have to turn around, harry. i'm just changing my shirt." he can hear the smirk in your voice.

he's dumbfounded. all he's thought about for weeks is your body in front of him, and it's right here, and he can't bring himself to look. he feels each second pass by painfully slow, trying to answer himself as to why the fuck he's not turning around.

"okay, you can turn around now." you laugh as you roll your eyes at him. he slowly turns to you with an undoubtedly pale face and shocked expression.

you're standing at your drawer, new shirt fully on, and he can't help but feel a bit disappointed. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by watching, but you seemed okay with it. he's a bit lost in his feelings before you start asking him about something completely irrelevant, taking his mind off the mini-show he just got for free.

that night he's lying in bed, room completely dark except his bedside lamp, and he's thinking of you. like always.

as he replays the moment you took your shirt off right in front of his eyes, he finds himself grabbing for his cock without even meaning to. his hand wraps around the shaft as he begins thrusting his hips, imagining it's your hand like he has so many times before. it only takes a few seconds of stroking and thinking about your blue bra before he's made a mess of himself.

cleaning up afterwards was always the most guilt-ridden part of the entire experience. it was bad enough he thought of you sexually and constantly got hard just from you looking at him or calling him a loser as a joke, but to actually jerk off to the idea of you is something else entirely.

he tried not to get too down about it, plenty of guys do this right? whats so wrong with it if it doesn't affect his relationship with you?

except, it does. harry doesn't know how much longer he can go without telling you how he feels. the guilt he feels every time you refer to him as your best friend, not knowing he spends almost every night cleaning up his own cum off his chest just from thinking about your smile. how would you feel finding out your so-called best friend had these perverted thoughts about you?

as harry falls asleep, he hugs his pillow and pretends its you, asleep in his arms, completely safe.

it's halloween, and harry's never been more excited.

you enthusiastically asked if you could do a matching costume with him, and he'd never been so quick to agree. wearing a matching costume with you to a university party was possibly the first step in becoming a real couple. he wasn't necessarily thrilled about going to a party, but he knew if he was with you he would enjoy himself no matter what.

you couldn't decide what you two should be until harry suggested pirates as a joke.

"oh my gosh, harry! that's perfect!" you said with a huge smile. harry laughed at you, shaking his head. "really? i was kidding." he deadpanned. you narrowed your eyes at him. "yes, really! i think it'd be so cute. and i have the perfect top."

harry gets excited once you say it's cute, and is just happy to be included in your plans.

you take harry shopping just a few days before the party to find pirate-like clothes and end up with a good collection of stuff. at the last minute, harry pays for everything you bought and you give him the biggest, warmest hug he's ever gotten.

yeah, that was enough for him to know this was worth it.

the night of the party, harry feels a bit ridiculous walking up to your dorm in such a billowy white button up and the most uncomfortable, oversized pants he's ever worn. to top it all off his bandana didn't look right on his head, so he embarrassingly knocked on your door and waited for your reaction to his failure of a costume.

when you opened the door, he was stunned into silence.

you were just. so. hot.

your hair was loose around your face under a perfectly tied bandana, an off-the-shoulder white top similar to his worn over a red lace bra, along with ripped fish net stockings under a tied skirt and, shit, a fucking garter wrapped around your thigh.

to say he was insanely turned on and completely stunned by your beauty was an understatement. he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman in front of him was dressed like this to match with him at a party in front of everyone. he just couldn't stop staring at you up and down, not caring if you noticed him practically drooling over you.

"you look so cute!" you exclaimed at the sight of harry standing at your door.

he looked up at you, your soft eyes wide with excitement as you clasped your hands together. you motioned for harry to come in and opened the door further for him. he slid past you into your dorm room, intentionally breathing in your scent as he did, and practically fell apart at the seams. he was so, so attracted to you right now.

"but, let me fix that bandana." you say with a giggle. he turns around and you're already reaching for his head. his breath gets caught in his throat as your arms wrap around his head, retying the bandana tightly just below his hairline. you pull away a bit and smile at him before looking down at his shirt, reaching for that as well.

harry carefully watched your fingers begin to unbutton his white shirt, his world stopping in its tracks in this moment. he was so lost until you said, "gotta show off the chest hair."

as you continue to adjust his shirt with the top buttons undone, he can't help but admire your body and outfit from this angle, this close. everything worked together so well on you, and fit you perfectly in every spot. he felt like such a joke standing next to you, who could ever compare to such a goddess like yourself?

on your way to the party just outside of campus, you felt chilly in just a skirt and cropped top. harry noticed instantly. "cold?" he asks. you nod, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you start to shiver. harry instinctively wraps an arm around you before he can even process what he's doing. "uh, is this any better?" he inquires.

you look up at him with those damn eyes, and he's lost once again. "a lot better." you say sweetly.

at the party, you stick with him for a bit until a few friends pull you away to do some shots. he gives you a reassuring smile as he tells you to go, and he watches your barely-covered ass as you run along.

and so do a few other guys.

harry notices at least 3 guys around him who watch you leave, and at least one of them makes some snide comment about you to a buddy. his blood boils like he's never felt before. he could feel himself tensing up as he imagined what he would do to them if they ever tried to touch you.

harry takes a deep breath and finds a bathroom, running some water over his face to calm down. you were not his girlfriend. not even close. but he felt like any other guy who looked at you was looking at what was his. he was there for you 24/7, he knew your favorite everything, he saw how beautiful you were in all your states, not just dressed up at some costume fraternity party, and though that gives him no right over you, he just couldn't help but feel protective over someone who means so much to him.

you find each other again at some point during the party, and you're a bit drunk. harry finds it somewhat amusing at first, but quickly hates the way those guys are looking at you again. so, he wraps your arm around his waist, tells you it's time to go home, and you mindlessly abide.

on the way home he's completely in awe at the feeling of your arm wrapped around his waist, and his around your shoulder. he felt like you looked like a proper couple, matching costumes and all, and he loved that thought.

as he walked you into your room, you immediately began stripping off your accessories. he was caught in that same predicament he found himself in not too long ago. does he casually let you unclothe in front of him or turn around and give you the privacy you deserve?

he quickly decided on the latter and turned away, making sure the door was locked for your privacy. you started giggling infectiously, stumbling around behind him. "you ok?" he asked with a smirk, amused at the sound of you struggling.

"no, need helppp," you whine, slurring your words slightly while still giggling. harry freezes. he hadn't even considered that you might be too drunk to get undressed by yourself. he's even more conflicted than before.

"m-my help?" he asked. obviously he knew the answer, he just didn't feel right taking your clothes off of you while you were intoxicated. "well duhh…" you giggled, taking another stumbling step behind him.

what should he do? if he says no you might feel like he's annoyed with you or doesn't want to help you out, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

before he can make a decision, you turned him around, his eyes landing on your glazed over eyes.

you had taken off the bandana and gotten your shirt partially off before asking harry for help. he's a bit startled to see you half dressed in front of him, but he quickly makes the decision to be professional and friendly about this situation.

he helps you take off your shirt the rest of the way, and unties your skirt around your waist. harry tries to divert his eyes as he does so to give you the most privacy possible in this moment, though his mind was pushing the most sinful thoughts he could muster.

his hands were shaky as he put both your skirt and top in the laundry, not even noticing how hard and fast his heart was beating until he took a moment to breathe.

just behind him, he hears you take a seat on your mattress. "can you take my shoesss pleaseee," you whine, sticking your left heel in the air towards harry.

the sight that beholds him in this moment is unholy.

you, practically naked except for your underwear and fishnet stockings, pointing a bright red heel at him with a pouty face as you wait for his help. he could devour you whole right here, right now. the fact that he hasn't kissed you yet tonight honestly had harry impressed with himself.

he nervously swallowed before reaching for your shoe, carefully sliding it off your foot as you gracefully lift the other leg towards him. he takes that heel as well and sets them next to your other shoes. he reaches in your closet for a big, comfy t-shirt and turns around to give it to you.

he sees you on your back, rolling around on the mattress, struggling to get your fishnets off, laughing to yourself as they get tangled on your legs. harry cant help but laugh at you as well, your carefree intoxicated state was just so adorable to him.

harry briefly helps you out of the stockings before handing you the t-shirt. "here, is this okay to sleep in?" he asks, putting the stockings on your dresser. "yeah!" you say cheerfully. "thanks, harryyy," you coo. harry immediately blushes, the way you carried out his name just made his heart sing. he was so lucky to be this close to you.

"gotta take this off," you say, pulling at the straps of your bra. harry nods and turns away. you giggle softly, grabbing for his hand. he turns to you in shock, looking down at your hand as you stand up from the bed.

"help me?" you ask seductively.

harry is frozen. are you meaning to be so overtly flirty right now? is this a bit from the alcohol? are you about to start laughing him off and put the shirt on anyway?

but you don't, you just patiently wait for his answer with puppy dog eyes. he glanced between you and the t-shirt in your hand, clearly a worried look taking over his expression.

"you don't have to," you say softly. that snaps harry out of his daze. "n-no, of course i'll help," he says eagerly. you smile again and turn around, gathering your hair to one side to get it out of the way for him.

harry has never been so aroused in his life. this is the most intimate he's ever been with anyone. he's never unclasped a bra before, and worries he's about to make a fool of himself in front of the most beautiful girl in the world.

but he soon figures it out and manages to unclasp it for you. "there you are," he assures you. you slowly turn around, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you hold the bra up. harry's completely infatuated with the delicious sight of you in front of him in this moment, but quickly diverts his gaze to an uninteresting part of the room.

"harry, do you want to see my boobs?"

harry snaps his head back at you with concern. his brows are furrowed and mouth agape. you have a genuine expression but your eyes are still a bit bloodshot.

"wh…what?" he choked out. he can't believe you asked that, even in this state. you've truly never showed interest in harry like this before, only subtle touches and looks that he interpreted how he wanted, but never anything like this.

well, unless you count the other day when you undressed near him.

but that was friendly, wasn't it? you were just changing, lots of friends change in front of each other. but this was completely different, you were purposefully exposing yourself to him. not only that, but you were asking him if you could, as if it wasn't the only thing he wanted in this moment.

"do you wanna see my boobs?" you ask again, giggling slightly.

harry blinks a few times, trying as hard as he can to not ogle over your body. this is all he's wanted, for months this is the only thing he's wanted, but right now just didn't feel right. you weren't fully aware of what you were doing or saying, and he couldn't, in good faith, continue further with this situation.

he carefully places his hands on your crossed arms, keeping them close to you as he talks.

"[y/n], you're drunk right now. and while i helped you get undressed, which was already a bit over the line, i don't want you to do something you'll regret."

you give him a look he can't quite decipher. your smile drops, your eyes focus, and your arms tense.

"i'm sorry," you say softly.

harry quickly reassures you. "don't be! seriously, don't be. i am so, so glad that you trust me enough to help you in this state. truly. it means the world to me, because i care about you so much." he gives you a warm smile.

you smile back at him. "then i hope you understand when i say i want to do this,"

you begin to pull your arms away from your chest, but harry is still holding them. he looks you in the eyes with worry, afraid of what you're about to do, yet more excited than he's been in a long time.

"but [y/n]..." he protests. "please?" you ask simply.

harry is reluctant, but he can tell you're going to be insistent, so he slowly lets go of your arms as you remove your bra from your body.

harry glances at your chest, his heart dropping. you're perfect.

perfect, perfect, perfect.

your skin looked so beautiful in the lowlight provided by your lamps and fairy lights. the curves of your boobs looked so soft and untouched. this was the first time harry was seeing tits in real life, and he was pretty sure this was the best they could possibly get.

he looks back up at your eyes, a shy smile spread across your expression. "beautiful…" harry whispers before he even realizes what he's saying.

you giggle, unfolding the shirt you handed him and swiftly pulling it over your head. "thanks, harry," you say so casually, turning around to make your bed so you can sleep in it.

he can hardly believe what's just happened. the girl of his dreams, the girl he'd practically been obsessed with for months, just willingly showed him her boobs for fun. though you were intoxicated and would most likely regret it tomorrow, hopefully not mad at him for letting it happen, he was still grateful that you felt that level of trust with him in any capacity.

what he wasn't grateful for, however, were these bloody pirate pants that gave him the most uncomfortable erection of his life. this was also definitely the hardest and most turned on he had ever been, so he's not sure if there's any comfort to be had in this moment anyway. while you focus on the bed, harry takes a step away and tries to calm himself down, thinking different thoughts to try and let the hornieness subside for just a bit longer.

as you plop into bed and begin getting comfortable, harry turns off a few lamps for you but keeps on the fairy lights in case you need the bathroom at any point.

"do you need anything before i head out, [y/n]?" he asks.

you sit up in your bed, a look of pain on your face.

"you're leaving me?"

harry is utterly heartbroken at the tone of your question. you sound so genuinely upset he immediately comes to comfort you, sitting on the edge of your mattress.

"oh, no, i-i won't if you don't want me to." he stumbles out. harry wasn't planning on staying, he was actually just imagining how good of a jerk he was about to have in 10 minutes, plus he's never technically stayed the night with you before. but he quickly pushes his perverted thoughts of you to the side and knows it's much more satisfying to him if he stays here and makes sure you're okay through the night.

you reach for the bandana that's still tied around his head and pull it off swiftly, leaving his hair disheveled. you throw it across the room with a laugh.

"sleepoverrrr" you cheer, patting the spot next to you on the bed. harry laughs with you, standing up and realizing he's still dressed as a pirate. "i didn't bring any clothes…" he says with a twinge of sadness.

you look at him confused. "you're a guy, just sleep naked." you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. harry is a bit stunned at this statement but quickly laughs you off, going to your drawers to look for a pair of pants. besides, he's still slightly struggling with a situation in his boxers and being naked next to you wouldn't exactly help him out.

he eventually put together a shirt and pants combo that fit him comfortably enough to sleep in. "hope you don't mind," he says as he changes into them.

"not at all," you say, watching him change in the lowlight. there's something in your voice that makes harry feel feral, an overwhelming desire to just let go and release the tension between you two. at least, the tension he thinks is there.

he quickly gets dressed, setting his pirate clothes and glasses on your dresser as the sleep begins to settle into his bones. he crawls into bed next to you, and is quickly invited to join you under the covers. he's a bit reluctant at first, but realizes he doesn't have much of a choice as he starts getting cold.

within a few minutes of saying goodnight to each other, you and harry drift off to sleep together.

you're the first one awake, a splitting headache and dry mouth creating an unpleasant feeling immediately after opening your eyes. you rub the sleep away from them and reach for a glass of water on the nightstand next to you, sitting up a bit to sip slowly.

"good morning," a deep voice rumbles just beside you. you instinctively jump a bit before your brain quickly recognizes harry's tone and accent. as you turn to him, he's adorably disheveled wearing one of your university crewnecks under your blanket.

he smiles at you. he looks so different without his glasses on.

"morning, harry," you say groggily. the moment doesn't last long before another wave of your headache hits you, causing you to rub your forehead. you groan in pain. "what happened last night?"

harry's a bit frozen. this is exactly what he was afraid was going to happen. you don't remember anything from last night. he should've just dropped you off here and left right away, not even letting there be a chance of anything happening.

he's brought out of his thoughts when you look back down at him, a look of curiosity in your eyes as you continue to rub your head.

harry also sits up a bit before climbing out of bed, putting his glasses on from the top of your dresser.

"well…" he starts out nervously, scratching his head. "we went to the party," he says as he begins to stretch his back out.

"oh yeah, the party. we were definitely the best costumes there." you recall the night fondly. harry laughs nervously, worried about how you're going to react when you find out he undressed you and even saw you nearly completely naked in such an intoxicated state.

"right, yeah, of course." harry chuckles dryly. "but, um…at some point you left me and started drinking, so we didn't stay for long." he says carefully, his mind racing as he slowly, nervously paces between your bed and your dresser.

"classic," you chuckle, reaching for a hairbrush as you begin to comb through your knotty hair. "thanks for bringing me home, harry," you smile at him.

the guilt twists in his stomach like a knife, he can't believe how innocent you are. but he also can't believe what happened between you two last night, and just how eager you seemed for it to happen. he has to stop thinking about it before he gets turned on again.

"of course, [y/n], but, um…" he takes a deep breath before he continues. "you look cute in my jumper, by the way," you interrupt him, standing up from your bed as you begin to collect toiletries to take a shower.

his brain fogs from the compliment, but doesn't let it distract him from what he knows he has to tell you.

"well, thank you, but, um…" harry says with a blush.

you give him a confused look. "what's up?" you ask him. he's just going to come right out and say it.

"look, [y/n], i don't know if you remember, but…you asked me to help you get undressed last night because you were too drunk," he spits out, trying to immediately gauge your reaction before continuing. you just give him an even more confused look. "oh, well, thank you then. is that okay?" you ask incredulously.

harry stiffens. "yeah, um…i didn't mind helping, of course, it's just…" you giggle, opening the door to your en suite bathroom that's barely bigger than the shower within it. "harry, you're such a dork. do you actually feel bad for taking care of me when i was drunk?" you ask sarcastically as you set down various lotions and hair products onto the sink.

he cracks a small smile at you calling him a dork, but it doesn't last long. his heart settles a bit after hearing your positive outlook on the situation so far, but it doesn't stop completely.

"it's not that, um…but, uh, afterwards, you, well, kind of…" he awkwardly tried to find the words.

"you…showed me your boobs." not the most eloquent way of putting it.

your face goes pale. his stomach drops immediately.

"n-not by my request or anything!" he quickly reassures you (and himself). "it's just, i told you you might regret it, but you were insisting on doing it anyways…" he doesn't want to feel like he's blaming you when he was the sober one in charge.

"oh…" you say despondent, seeming lost in your thoughts as you search his expression. he gives you a moment to process what he's said. "yeah…" is all he manages to say.

you sigh. "i'm sorry, harry. it was wrong of me to force that on you." your apology is so sincere, and it immediately confused harry. force that on him? bloody hell. you really had no memory of just how much he enjoyed himself in that moment. harry's sure he looked like a kid at a candy shop just staring at your beautiful body in the warm light.

"what? no! i-i'm sorry i let that happen," he responds with a ridiculous tone. "i was the sober one, i should've tried harder to–""to what? stop a drunk girl from showing her tits? yeah, good luck with that one." you laugh, cracking a joke.

harry's nerves are much more calm. he's insanely grateful that you seem to be taking this news well and aren't angry with him.

"look, harry…" you start, adjusting your shirt around your shoulders. harry's been stealing glances of your delicious thighs and legs every so often as you talked.

"i'm really grateful for you. just in general, but for last night especially. you helped me out, and you were a complete gentleman, at least from what i can remember…" you joke with him. he cracks a smile too.

"so don't stress about it, yeah?"

harry lets out a breath of relief, physically feeling the weight of the situation lift from his shoulders. "yeah, of course. i'm really grateful you trust me like that." he's in awe of your grace in this moment.

you smile, stepping over to the laundry next to your dresser. you grab a shirt and some pants from your closet, and, before harry even realizes what you're doing, you drop your underwear you were wearing last night to your ankles, stepping out of them and walking towards the bathroom again.

"gonna shower for a bit," you inform him as you close the door behind yourself.

harry's left behind, staring at the door before returning his gaze to your panties.

they're red, much like your bra from last night, and he remembers taking note of them to keep in his fantasies later for accuracy. but now, here they were, just laying right in front of him.

he finds himself still staring at them when he hears you turn the shower on and step inside, closing the sliding glass door behind you. he looks at the door, and looks back at your panties.

for a while he just looks at them incredulously, not entirely sure why this specific detail has made him so irrationally horny. you were completely naked on just the other side of this wall, but he's practically mesmerized by the image of you casually sliding your red panties down your legs right in front of him like it wasn't the most erotic thing he's ever witnessed in his whole life.

before he knows it, the shower turns off. he's still left staring at your red panties. as he shifts his weight, he can see that they're a bit wet and slick in the light from you wearing them all night.

he can't take it anymore. his erection from last night has returned with a vengeance this morning. before harry could even realize what he's doing, he's picked up your underwear carefully, holding them between his fingers, your wetness still soaking through the cotton.

his heart is racing as he hears you brushing your teeth. what is he doing? if you caught him being perverted with your panties like this after just reassuring him that he wasn't in the wrong for what happened last night, he'd surely be on your bad side. but he can't stop himself.

he brings them to his face and takes a slow, deep inhale.

you smell completely divine. slightly sweet, slightly bitter. he gets goosebumps just thinking about how you must really smell. his erection is raging beneath your sweatpants he put on last night, feeling incredibly dirty from being so turned on by your used panties.

his stolen pleasure is too quickly interrupted by the sound of the bathroom doorknob jiggling. shit. as you're about to open the door, harry panics and shoves your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants.

you come out with freshly damp hair and raw skin. the wonderful smell of your shower products fill the room as you brush through your hair casually.

harry keeps a hand in his pocket over the panties so you don't have the chance of catching him, and to better conceal the raging boner that's not going away anytime soon.

you don't say anything as you place your toiletries back in their rightful spots, humming to yourself as you comb through your hair occasionally.

so casually beautiful, so effortlessly pristine. you amazed him every time with just how ethereal you could be at any given moment. a freshly clean angel fluttering around the room without a care in the world.

you begin complaining of your hangover headache and ask harry to get food with you. he's more than willing, his stomach already growling in response for him.

at breakfast, you sit in silence with harry as you both hungrily devour the pancakes you ordered. harry got you two glasses of orange juice to keep you hydrated after last night.

after a while, you inform him you have to go study, and he offers to help you. "thanks, but i can't be distracted. this exam is going to kick my ass." you complained to him. harry gave you a look. "i distract you?"

you laugh at him, leaving him at the lunch hall with a simple, "goodbye, harry. call me later."

when harry gets to his dorm room, he realizes he's still wearing your clothes. and, shit, he's still got your panties in his pocket.

harry slowly reaches for them, feeling a twinge of guilt and lust once his hand finds the fabric. pulling them out, he's in shock that he actually stole a pair of your panties. to be fair he didn't intend to, he just panicked and wasn't thinking straight.

but, now that he has them…

keeping the red lace hanging from his fingers, harry climbs into bed and begins to remember those unforgettable moments with you just the night prior. it doesn't take much to get him just as riled up as before, imagining the moments he was undressing you in slow motion. taking your heels off as you looked up at him with the most seductive eyes in the world. seeing the flesh of your breasts for the first time in the dim lighting, imagining how they'd feel in his rough hands. god, he feels so bad finding pleasure in these moments, but he physically can't resist it.

his hand is already wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking slowly as to savor the memories flashing through his brain. he's been aching for this release since seeing you in your costume last night, just another memory that brings him closer to the edge.

finally, he slowly brings your panties to his face. though they've since dried in his pocket during breakfast and the walk home, the lingering smell is still enough to drive him wild. he's breathing them in like it's oxygen and he's drowning.

just as he's nearing the end, he brings the panties to his other hand and begins stroking his cock with them. the sight alone is enough to break him, his cum spilling onto his hand and all over your red panties as images of your half naked body continue to infest his brain.

this time, the immediate guilt was the worst it'd ever been.

as he began to clean up, he realized just how much he ruined your panties in his excitement. his cum had soaked through the thin fabric and was already drying around it. he cursed himself for ruining such a sacred momento that he should've cherished, but also quickly cursed himself for thinking that way about you in the first place.

you even said yourself that harry was being a perfect gentleman last night. yeah, a gentleman with a raging erection the entire night who steals your used panties for his sick pleasure…

he continues to clean himself up, putting your panties in a safe place where nobody can find them and he won't lose them. even just the thought of them being in his possession was enough to get him riled up again.

it's the stressful time between thanksgiving and christmas where school has the two of you completely spread thin. harry's constantly writing essays while you seem to have endless lab experiments to finish for other classes. the one saving grace is your potions class together, twice a week. it's what kept harry sane during this chaotic time.

spending even just this short hour and 15 minutes with you is enough to fulfill harry. he hasn't properly hung out with you in nearly two weeks and was missing you like he was withdrawing.

sitting close to you to copy some notes about the potion you two are working on, harry admires your handwriting for the millionth time since he's met you. "i just don't understand how you write so well, i can barely read my own," harry jokes, holding out his notebook, making you laugh and blush.

the potion you're working on is one that allows the consumer to communicate with animals for a short period of time. it's rather complex, but harry helps you keep things organized and encourages you when you get frustrated.

"i just don't get it, how is it 3 drops and not 6? i swear it was 6 last week…" you groan, looking through your notes as you set down the tincture, rubbing your face, exasperated.

harry sets a reassuring hand on your arm. he's gotten pretty good at being more physical with you, and isn't afraid to touch you casually like you always have with him. "hey, [y/n], it's okay," he tells you, catching your eyes with his. "it's been a stressful week, yeah? just a mistake, no big deal."

you give harry that same, warm smile you delivered on your first day meeting him. he often looks back at that day fondly, forever grateful he got the sudden courage to talk to you after this class. not only were you now his closest friend, you were also the light of his life.

as harry finishes up, he hands you the round vial full of luminescent, purple potion. "here you are, test it out."

you take a small swig of it just as professor rodden makes his way to your and harry's table. next to the table is a bird's cage on a hook, with a sweet owl inside named jewel.

you make eye contact with the owl, and begin to speak. to you and everyone else it just sounds like regular english, but the owl begins to hoot and flap its wings at you immediately.

"hello, jewel, how are we feeling today?" you coo.

amazing, incredible, unbelievable! jewel's hoots become intelligible to your ear as you practically jump up and down with a huge smile on your face. "it worked, it worked!" you announced to harry, instinctively jumping in his arms for a hug as he spins you around excitedly.

"yes! you did it! see, i knew you could." harry exclaims, setting you down and giving you a toothy grin.

you look at jewel again, who is turning her head at you every which way. how nice, you and the boy! how sweet indeed! her loud hoots make the class silent as they watch you interact with her.

"what's she saying?" harry asks curiously. you give him a shy smile, feeling your face turn red. "she likes us." you're not totally lying.

"well, ms. [y/l/n], i must tell you i'm quite impressed. not just at how quickly you two perfected this potion, but of your performance this semester overall." professor rodden compliments you. he turns to harry. "i see mr. potter has been a positive influence on you this year."

harry quickly shuts him down. "actually, sir, if you don't mind me speaking out of turn, [y/n] has helped me way more this semester than i've helped her. she's brilliant."

professor rodden turns to you, a pale face and shocked expression, and gives you a smile. "well, then, hat's off to you, ms. [y/l/n]." he says, bowing to you before continuing with his rounds in the classroom. "thank you, professor rodden."

after class, you're all over harry, resting your head on him, hugging him, touching him randomly, but he's not complaining of course. he feels lucky enough that you're so comfortable around him as to be touchy feely.

"thank you, by the way. for what you said to rodden." you thank him as you two walk into your dorm room. harry takes his usual seat at your computer desk. "of course, i wasn't about to let that wanker give me credit for all of your hard work." harry says, laughing. he's become so much more confident with you, even using your lingo in his own vocabulary.

"no, really, thank you. just, for everything." you smile at him. "you're the best friend i could ever ask for."

harry feels his smile slightly falter. he's always reminded that that's all you are is friends, and while he's insanely grateful for your friendship, probably more than anything else in his life, he just can't help but feel a bit lost at this point. he's insanely attracted to you, ferociously protective over you, and, yet, can't bring himself to tell you any of this.

"you're welcome, [y/n], but if anything i should be thanking you. you don't even know how much you've helped me, not just with school but with everything. you're, like, the only friend i have at this point." harry laughs, but it's true. he's tried to make friends in other classes this year but has been disappointed each time, they're just not you.

you give harry a sad smile. "that's not true, ron and hermione are still your friends. more than that, they're practically your family." you walk over to him and run your hand through his hair, something you know he loves. he looks up at you slightly through his eyelashes.

"hermione's right, they'll come back to you one day. just give it some time, yeah?"

harry melts into your touch. nobody can settle his mind like you do. he didn't exactly look for pity from people, but you were someone he felt so safe with that he could be completely vulnerable in front of you. the reassurance and love that you provided him in these moments healed him in a way he didn't understand.

"right," he sighs, giving you the same sad smile.

you whine and pull his head into your chest, resting your own head on top of his. "awh, i hate seeing you so sad." you say sympathetically, still running your fingers through the back of his hair.

if harry's being completely honest, he's not sad at all anymore. how could he feel anything but pure bliss with his head buried in your sweater and your fingers leaving goosebumps throughout his scalp? he leans into you like a dog being pet, so desperate for your touch.

you stay like that with him for a while, just enjoying each other's company. harry found solace in your heartbeat, feeling truly at peace for the first time in weeks. "i've missed you." harry practically moans, intoxicated by your warm scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

you hum, smiling softly to yourself, feeling harry practically melt into your arms. "missed you too, harry," you coo, enjoying the feeling of being together.

"the semester's almost over, then it's christmas." you remind him, lifting your head as you look down at his closed eyes. he looks so peaceful resting against you.

harry smiles. almost christmas. but more importantly, almost your birthday.

harry very vividly remembers a conversation he had with you towards the beginning of your friendship about birthdays and how neither of you particularly enjoyed them.

your birthday fell close to christmas, so, inevitably, it became synonymous with christmas growing up. never really getting a separate party or separate presents, you learned to not expect much the actual day of, and to rather wait for christmas so you could be celebrated on the side.

harry was having none of this. he thinks you forgot about the conversation with him completely, but he's thought about it constantly since then. he's been planning on giving you a special birthday on your actual birthday this year, and he's practically dying to tell you. but he doesn't, and he won't, because it has to be a complete surprise.

"hm. christmas." is all he says, tilting his head back to look up at you. from every angle he finds you so fascinating, you just get prettier and prettier the more he truly looks at you.

you're gazing at him so gently, so warmly, your hand practically cradling his head against you. harry blinks and you're suddenly leaning forward, planting a soft kiss against his forehead.

harry could've died happy at that moment.

he brings his head away from your chest as you step away, soft smile and blushing cheeks. watching you turn and start folding laundry mindlessly, harry feels the lingering kiss tingling his skin.

for a brief moment, he imagines himself coming up to you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, feeling you, pushing you to the bed…

harry quickly shakes his head, grinding his teeth at the horny urges he gets at the most simple actions. what other boys in university get an erection so quickly from a forehead kiss? sometimes harry felt like such a loser, not just with you, but with sex in general.

he never thought about it much before you, so it's not something he knows a lot about. he'd masturbated before, but not as often as he does now, or in the same way. usually he thought about making out with someone, maybe touching them, but now…he just felt so dirty, the things that his brain creates about you.

once you finish the laundry, you ask for his help to put stuff away. he's done this for you many times before, so he knows where you like everything to be.

he hangs up a few shirts and puts away some jeans and socks. he turns around to see you handing him a pile of your panties loosely stacked together. "here," you say as you're turned the other way, gathering another pile of clothes with your other arm.

harry is frozen for a second before reluctantly taking the underwear from you, immediately feeling his face flush.

he's instantly reminded of your panties sitting in his room right now. the panties he stole. the panties he masturbated with.

he's since washed them and keeps them out of guilt, partially, but he's not quite sure how to subtly return them to you. not like he wants to anytime soon.

as harry turns around and opens the drawer you put your panties in, he takes his time so he can admire all the different pairs in his hand. pinks, purples, reds, neutrals, blacks, he was practically holding a goldmine. it almost made him chuckle, the irony of you asking him to put these away.

he neatly tucks them into the drawer, admiring them one last time before slowly closing it.

for the first time that month, you and harry actually have the freetime to leave campus and get food together. your favorite diner is open all night and serves the best milkshakes either of you have ever had.

"how are we splitting the checks?" the older waitress asks, eyeing harry up and down. before you can say anything he tells her just one, handing her his card out of nowhere.

as she walks away you give him an evil look. "you don't always have to pay for everything, y'know? i'm perfectly capable of paying for myself or the both of us." you tease him. he smiles. "i know." he states simply.

you finish your milkshakes within minutes, handing your cherry to harry like you do every time. "cherry for harry," you always say. it always gets a smile out of him.

after a few minutes of chatting alone in the diner, the bell at the front door rings. you get a big smile across your face as you stand from the booth. "thomas?" you ask.

harry turns around to see a man in a quidditch uniform, his hair sweaty and book bag full to the brim. he's carrying his broomstick around, like a total tool if you ask harry, and gives you the cheekiest smile possible.

"[y/n]?" he asks.

harry could've killed him just for saying your name the way he did. like a predator hunting its prey again.

harry's anger immediately worsened when you practically jumped on this guy to give him a hug. nothing like the hug you gave harry in class today, he wants to note.

harry stood up, causing the guy to look at him. he had a scar as well, one from quidditch harry would assume. a slash across his left eye, healed but still somewhat recent.

you look back at harry as well, smiling at him. "harry, this is thomas." you introduce them.

yeah, he picked up on that. harry's face was red from anger.

he reluctantly steps forward, offering his hand to the douchebag who still kept a light hand on your shoulder. harry wanted to break his wrist when he went in for the handshake, but instead he offered a polite, "harry. nice to meet you."

the guy, thomas, gives a half smirk. "harry potter." he states matter-of-factly.

harry was sure his anger was visible at this point. it was enough that this guy was touching you and clearly had a past with you, but for him to pull the boy who lived card on him in front of you was enough to make his fists ball up.

"that's me." he says, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

there's an awkward moment of silence as harry continues to stare thomas down.

"so. how do you two know each other?" harry asks you, his tone and gaze softening just looking at you.

"oh! um…" you start nervously.

"we dated back in high school." thomas finishes for you.

of fucking course you did, harry thinks.

"yeah…for, like, 2 months…" you awkwardly laugh off, clearly not the most comfortable discussing this in front of harry.

thomas laughs with you as the waitress hands him a to-go box. "well, i'll see you guys around," he says as he hikes up his bookbag. "it was nice to see you again, [y/n]."

if looks could kill, this guy would've been dead long before he left out the door. harry knew he was visibly upset when you looked over at him.

"you okay harry?" you ask with a laugh.

he breaks, looking at you with a smile as he loosens his tight muscles. "sorry, i'm fine," he says.

as you both put your coats on to walk home, harry can't help but replay the interaction in his head. "dated…in high school…" "yeah…for, like, 2 months…"

harry's mind was swimming as you left the diner with him, walking into a light snow. "wow," you sigh, looking around you. harry looks up. it's beautiful out. the snow gives everything a light, soft look under the street lamps. he looks down at you and smiles at you admiring the scenery.

sometimes it scares harry how jealous he gets when it comes to you, and how quickly it can happen. that guy did nothing but say your name and give you a 2 second hug, and he actually dated you, so what right does harry have to get upset as just your friend? but all he can think about on the walk to your dorm is pummeling this guy's stupid face into the ground.

harry hadn't told you yet, but he had actually been going to the gym lately with all the time he had spent away from you during the busy school weeks. nothing too intense, he actually focused on boxing and lifting specifically because he wanted to be better prepared to protect you in case anything happened to you. and for self defense reasons, of course, but mainly for your benefit. he would do anything for you.

upon arriving at your dorm, you plop onto your mattress with a groan. "too much milkshake," you whine.

harry chuckles at you, shaking the snow out of his hair. "i told you not to get the large." he smirks. you frown at him, making him laugh again. "it's not funny! and you're wrong, i deserved a large after this month." you protest.

he laughs you off again, taking a peek at your alarm clock next to your bed. his eyes widen. "bloody hell, since when was it half past 11?" he asks astounded.

you laugh at his shock. "time flies when you're havin' fun,"

harry rubs his eyes. "if i don't leave now i won't get enough sleep to make it to my 9 a.m." he groans, not wanting his time with you to end yet again.

"nooo," you whine, clearly wanting the same. he gives you a sad look at your tone. "stay?" you ask.

harry's a bit taken aback. he hasn't stayed the night since the halloween party. thinking about that night for even a split second makes him break a sweat. it's his most replayed memory. he could even call it his sexual awakening at the ripe age of 19.

"stay? are you sure?" harry asks. you immediately nod your head, smiling at him. he can't say no to you, and he doesn't want to. he has no reason to leave, anything he needs is already here.

"well, if you insist." he smirks. you roll your eyes, taking off your jacket and hat and setting them in your closet. "i only insist because that snow is turning into a storm." you reply. you're not wrong, harry would've had to walk for 15 minutes through heavier and heavier snowfall, not to mention the windchill.

"well, thank you." he says. you smile back at him before reaching to take your shirt off. harry's seen you in multiple states of undress since the halloween party, so it's not uncommon for you to just change at any point during your conversations.

but that didn't make it any less pleasurable for harry.

sometimes he just sat back and watched like it was a personal show just for him. he would memorize the shape of your back and, shit, the curve of your ass. he watched as you pulled down your jeans, left in nothing but a bra and panties. he tried not to stare but it was impossible to look away for too long, your ass was just perfect to him.

before too long you unclasped the bra hooks behind your back and let the black fabric fall into the laundry. you slipped on a big t-shirt, your favorite thing to wear to bed, and harry caught just the slightest glimpse of your tits from behind you.

as you turned around, harry quickly began taking off his wet, snow covered converse to appear as though he wasn't just observing you like his own personal dirty magazine.

when he looked up, you were handing him some clothes to change into. he thanked you, grabbing them as he took off his jeans and sweatshirt. harry had also learned to be more comfortable changing around you, even if it wasn't as often.

harry put on the sweatpants and fresh pair of socks before realizing you hadn't given him a shirt. he looked over at you and you were already staring at him.

"harry, have you been working out?"

his face flushed, feeling exposed with just a pair of sweatpants on his hips. you were looking at his body with an expression of shock and amusement.

"u-um, yeah, a bit…just between classes, get some stress out." he's not entirely lying, but he could never tell you the real reason.

you smile at him, but a different smile than normal. you're almost…nervous? you've never been nervous around harry, even when you two first met.

"you look…good…" you say with a slight crack in your voice, still looking at him. harry can feel his blood pumping, and he knows that can only lead to an eventual erection, so he turns around casually pretending to fold his jeans. "oh, thanks," he tries to say casually.

he can still feel your eyes on him as he hangs his sweatshirt on your coat rack. "damn, harry. you're like…ripped." you say with genuine shock in your voice.

harry turns towards you, but you're fixated on his exposed torso. he nervously laughs, not sure how to respond. of course he thought getting stronger would mean his body would inevitably look better, but he cared more about his ability to fight off any creeps he needed to in order to keep you safe. however, he hadn't necessarily considered your reaction to his transformation. he had somewhat forgotten you also saw him change his clothes that halloween night. he thought you had forgotten too.

"i don't know about that," he laughs awkwardly.

you just giggle and look away, shaking your head. you climb into bed and invite him next to you. harry accepts and joins you beneath the covers, turning off a lamp beside him.

after a few moments of silence, harry could hear your shallow, even breaths indicating you're asleep. he looked down at you, peaceful, beautiful. he sat up as gently as possible and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, [y/n]."

it was finally your birthday.

harry had been planning this day for weeks. he made sure to ask you way ahead of schedule when you would be seeing family so he could time everything perfectly.

he had completely set up your room to look like a birthday party for a kid. balloons, streamers, a birthday cake and ice cream, presents, even fun plates and napkins.

you should be coming home from going out to eat with your parents for brunch in about 10 minutes. harry made sure to call you before you left early in the morning to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.

as he was waiting for you to arrive, he made sure everything was perfect, down to the last balloon. he had put your favorite cd on and even lit a candle. he's not quite sure why, he just felt like it was right.

soon enough, he could hear your keys on the other side of your door letting yourself in, so harry positioned himself beside your bed and waited eagerly for the reaction he'd been thinking about for months.

when you open the door, you're a bit startled to see him at first. "surprise!" he says with a suppressed smile, trying to contain his excitement.

your eyes slowly examine the room, your jaw dropping as you bring a hand to your heart. "harry…" you choke out in a small voice, still noticing different details around you as the door closes behind you.

"happy birthday." he says lovingly, taking in every second of your realization.

"you…how did you…" you can't even get the words out as you set down your purse and coat on your bed next to your presents from harry.

"i've been planning this for weeks. i wanted to give you the birthday you never had." he tells you.

you look at him with tears in your eyes, quickly looking away and towards your dresser. "you got me a cake…" you say tearfully, walking up to the custom cake he had placed an order for an entire week ago.

"we also have reservations for the diner at 5. if you'd join me, of course." harry smirks. you chuckle at him, jumping in his arms and enveloping him in a hug. "thank you…" you begin to cry into his shoulder.

harry holds you tight, dazed from your scent and enjoying the softness of your hair. he rubs your back softly as you get the tears out, letting you know it's okay.

you pull away, wiping your tears as you laugh at yourself. "sorry, i just…this is so amazing of you harry."

"don't be sorry. i'm glad you love it." he reassures you, making you smile. "let's have some cake, hm?"

after some cake and ice cream as well as messing with the balloons and party favors, it was time for harry's favorite part. the presents.

he sat you both down on your bed and savored each reaction you had to each present. every thank you was followed by, "how did you know i wanted this?" "how much was this?" "how did you get this?"

harry had his ways. and again, he would do anything for you.

his last present for you, though, was the most important. he kept it beside him until the very end, handing it to you with a shy smile. you lifted the lid off the box to reveal a beautiful necklace, one he saw you looking at multiple times while out shopping with you.

you were speechless. you looked at harry with the most genuine expression of shock, gratitude, and confusion. "harry…" you gasp. "you got this for me?" you ask.

harry chuckles. "do you like it?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

"harry…you really shouldn't have…" you tell him, staring at the necklace in your lap. he smiles even bigger, the look on your face was already enough to convince him it was worth it. it was all worth it. "here, i'll put it on you."

you hand harry the necklace, turning and scooting towards him as you hold your hair to the side for him. he's immediately reminded of the night he helped you take your bra off.

he clasps the necklace together and you turn towards him, looking down at it with him. "wow, it looks great." he says with a smile.

you look up at him, your faces nearly touching. harry can barely process your beauty before you lean in for a soft kiss against his lips.

harry's completely frozen, not knowing what to do or what's even happening.

when you pull back, harry can barely breathe.

you look up at him, your eyes soft and eager. harry can't hold himself back anymore. you've kissed him first, that's all the permission he needs for now.

he lightly grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a bigger, deeper kiss. soon enough, you're making out with harry in your bed.

he's a bit rusty when it comes to kissing, but he plays it safe with you and keeps it soft and light. your hands have traveled to harry's neck and hair, pulling him closer to you.

after a minute or so, harry pulls away. "i love you, [y/n]." he admits. he just couldn't keep it in for much longer.

your eyes light up, a shy smile on your lips as you read his expression. "oh, harry. i love you, too." you reply breathlessly.

the kissing becomes more and more heated as you eventually push harry back onto your pillows. he's surprised, and completely aroused, trying to ignore his growing erection from simply kissing you.

you climb on top of him, the visual making harry sweat already. as you lean in to continue the kiss, your legs end up on either side of him, straddling his torso.

harry is at a loss. he never imagined his birthday surprise for you would end like this. did you really mean you loved him? like, loved loved him?

his hands went to your hips, savoring the feeling of your weight on top of him, his pants becoming more and more uncomfortable. eventually, he can feel your hips slowly rock back and forth on his lap.

he pulls away from the kiss, looking at you above him with wonder. it was everything he could've imagined. even better than the constant fantasies he had of you.

"is this okay?" you ask him softly, searching his eyes, grinding your hips into his a bit slower than before.

harry looks at you incredulously. "[y/n], this is all i've wanted for so long. please. use me." the desperation in his voice surprises him, he knew he wanted you this bad but he couldn't believe how quickly you had him begging.

you practically moaned at his desperate request. "fuck," you whisper as you go in for another kiss.

harry guides your hips into his, and he's sure you can feel just how hard he is through his jeans. you're softly moaning into the kiss, stopping to catch your breath every so often as harry slightly thrusts his hips into you, desperate for more.

"oh, harry…" you moan, causing his eyes to roll in ecstasy. for so long he imagined how you'd sound moaning his name just for him, and he's more than happy with the real thing.

"you're so beautiful, darling," harry says, reaching for your flushed cheek.

you whimper at his voice, tangling a hand in his hair. "tell me again." you demand him.

shit. harry could seriously cum just from that. he's doing everything he can to keep this going as long as possible, but he's not sure how much longer he'll last under you.

"beautiful. so, so beautiful." he says between heavy breaths, watching your incredible body grind onto him for pleasure. "you have no idea how badly i've needed you," he looks back into your eyes, half shut with pleasure as you continue to blush.

"touch me." you tell him, putting your hair behind your shoulders. he looks up at you slowly moving up and down on his lap. he could watch you do this for hours. a dream come true.

one hand slowly makes its way towards your tits, massaging one through your clothes. harry's head rolls back in pleasure, hardly believing this was his real life. involuntary moans slip through his lips as you continue to dry hump him.

"fuck, harry…" you whimper, kissing him again. he can feel the necklace he got you against his hand as he continue to feel your tits. everything about this was perfect. as far as he was concerned, right now, in this moment, you were his and only his.

"i-i…i think i'm gonna cum…" you tell him between kissing. his hands grip you tighter, all he wants to do is please you, be the reason for your ecstasy.

"please, [y/n], please cum for me," he begs of you, feeling his own body tipping over the edge. you look him in the eyes, your hand on his cheek as your breathing gets more rapid and uneven.

you're whimpering, desperately grinding for relief on harry's jeans as he feels himself about to cum. "harry, please…" you beg.

harry slightly thrusts into you, meeting your rhythm as he pulls you closer to him. you begin to shake in his grip, your eyes and jaw going lax as your whimpers become breathless. your hand finds one of his and interlocks your fingers together. you squeeze his hand as you ride out your high. he's completely enthralled with your face and body's reaction to him. he could be here forever, letting you use his body for pleasure, and he would hurt anyone who tried to stop him.

as you start to come down from your climax, harry gently pulls you in for a weak kiss. you crawl beside him, hiding your face in his chest as you continue to catch your breath.

"that was…so hot…" you manage to say between breaths. harry laughs softly, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss on your head. "you're amazing." is all he can say.

"so…did you…?" you shyly start to ask. "yes. i came in my pants." harry admits, hiding his face in your hair. you can't help but laugh a bit, looking down at his jeans. he looks down and sees a dark spot near the zipper.

"oh." you say, clearly amused. "how couldn't i? i had the most beautiful woman in the world orgasming on my lap." harry smirks.

you hide your face in his chest again, giggling. you look up at him with dilated eyes, flushed cheeks, and sore lips in a small smile. "i really do love you, harry," you speak softly.

"i love you too, [y/n]."

it's the day after christmas, and you and harry had spent the holiday with your family. he loved your parents, and got on well with your siblings. he had even rented a room at a local inn near the area for you two to stay in. a private place to escape the chaos and have some alone time.

you and harry were practically all over each other all the time at this point. he couldn't help himself, all he ever wanted was to kiss you and now he could, whenever he wanted, and he was going to take advantage of that.

it was your last day at the inn, a cozy cottage type place with the softest beds you've ever slept in, and harry paid for all of it before you even knew about it. "merry christmas," he had told you.

you were eating your complimentary breakfasts together in silence, across from each other at the little table in the corner of the room.

"thank you, again, harry. this was a wonderful idea." you said as you finished your orange juice, admiring the snowfall out of the window. "it's so beautiful here."

"you're beautiful."

you give harry a look, but crack a smile. "and you're cheesy."

harry chuckles, admiring you like he always does. his soft eyes and kind smile give you butterflies.

as you're packing your clothes to get ready to leave, harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. you smile, giggling, continuing to pack your suitcase. his lips end up on your neck, but you ignore him as you put your panties inside the bag.

harry laughs to himself. you look over at him. "what?" you ask with a smile. he's blushing, shaking his head. "nothing, nothing." he continues to laugh.

"tell me," you say. he shakes his head again. "no, its…it's weird." he says. you can hear a bit of shame in his voice as he hides his face in your neck again. "harry, tell me. please?"

he can't resist when you ask nicely.

he sighs, taking a step away from you and sitting on the bed next to your suitcase. "well…" he starts, rubbing his face nervously. "um, after the halloween party…" he trails off.

"yes…?" you ask, amused at his shy demeanor.

"u-uh, the morning after, when you took a shower…" harry recalls, shifting his weight. "i may have, um…stolen your underwear you took off in front of me…." he cringes at his words, turning his head away from you.

"i knew it!" you declared, pushing his shoulder.

harry covered his face completely, feeling like he could burst into tears at any moment from the embarrassment.

"god, that's so bloody hot, harry," you practically moan, pushing his arms to the side and sitting in his lap. he's completely red in the face, bewildered by your reaction.

"wh…what?" he asks breathlessly.

you hold his face in your hands, admiring his shy expression as you sink into him. "you don't find that weird? or creepy? or extremely perverted?" harry asks you incredulously.

you giggle at him, your eyes full of love. "yes, harry, stealing my used panties behind my back is very perverted. if you did that to any other girl they may find it really disturbing." harry's heart drops, his eyes focused on you completely. "but, i like you. i've really liked you for a long time. and…i find it so fucking hot just how desperate you were for me…"

harry's heart is immediately pumping at your words. you wrap your arms around his neck as you force a kiss on him, his hands grabbing your waist with a hunger.

after a moment he pulls back, nervously blinking and clearing his throat. "um, that's not all, though," he says regretfully. you give him a curious look. "i might've, um…used the panties to masturbate…" he admits.

you smile at his nervousness, biting your lip and giving him a desperate look. "oh, harry, tell me what it was like…" you moan as you begin kissing his neck.

harry's voice is caught, his head rolling back in pure bliss. sometimes he still can't believe this is real life.

you continue to bite at his neck, leaving marks as harry tries to find the words. "i, um…" his hand travels to your ass. "well, i smelled them first…" you moan against his skin, your legs tightening around him. "go on…" you say with a smile.

harry's trying to focus on the story without getting distracted by your lips. "they smelled so good, and you almost caught me, so i put them in my pocket," harry fights back a moan.

"so naughty," you tease him, pushing him onto his back. "tell me more." you demand.

harry nervously swallows at the sight of you above him. you hadn't done anything since your birthday just a few days previous, but it was all harry could think about. he missed the feeling of you being above him, using him, telling him what to do.

"when i got home, i immediately started jerking off thinking about undressing you, seeing your tits for the first time, smelling your panties, i felt so dirty because you told me i was such a gentleman that night…" harry rambles. something about revealing his perverted obsession with you as you're on his lap makes his erection harden.

he grabs for your thighs, sighing at how heavenly they feel in his hands. "then, i just…wrapped your panties around my dick…and i came on them, almost instantly…" harry reveals, the embarrassment fueling his lust.

you're practically aching for harry listening to his story, watching him become desperate for you once again. he's falling apart in your hands and you just can't get enough of it.

"god, harry, that's so hot…you were so obsessed with me…" you say as you lean into his lips, your bodies entangled on the bed.

harry pulls away, holding your face in his hands gently. "i still am, [y/n]." he says sincerely, admiring your eyes. "so, so obsessed…you have no idea…"

you gaze longingly at him, melting his heart. after a moment you kiss him passionately, savoring his eagerness.

"well…would you like these panties too?" you ask with a smirk, putting his hand on your ass. he looks up at you with begging eyes. "please," he says so softly.

soon you're sat on the edge of the bed, harry pulling down your pants with the fireplace lit behind him. he's looking at you so tenderly, taking in every part of you, constantly reminding you how much he loves you, and how beautiful you are.

you open your legs for him as he kneels in front of you, his eyes fluttering from your face to your panties, which are undoubtedly wet from hearing harry's perverted stories.

his mouth is watering just looking at you.

he gently kisses your thighs, higher and higher until he reaches your panties, taking a moment to look back up at you. you're intently watching him, a blush spreading across your face. you look so pretty from here, a view he's daydreamed about plenty of times.

he buries his face in your smell, moaning, taking you in completely, eyes drooping shut as he feels complete bliss overcome him.

you whimper at his reaction, a hand reaching for his hair as he comes back to earth. he reaches for your panties when he pauses, looking up at you shyly.

"i-i've never done this before." he admits.

you giggle at him lovingly. "i know, harry. it's okay. i haven't either." you reassure him, reaching for his glasses and setting them beside you. he smiles shyly and lays his head on your thigh, letting your hand tangle itself in his hair, memorizing this angle of you.

"just enjoy yourself."

harry blushes at that sentiment. he was enjoying himself no matter what, with you he was always happy, especially in moments like this.

but harry more than enjoyed himself. he had always fantasized what it would be like to eat your pussy, your hand in his hair as you ride his face and cum in his mouth. what he didn't expect was just how intimate it felt with you, the soft whimpers that escaped your mouth, having your legs rest on his shoulders, practically making out with your pussy while you writhe with pleasure beneath his hands.

you were both a bit unsure at first, awkward smiles and laughs and reassuring touches, before harry eventually lost himself in the act. he paid close attention to your reactions, your facial expressions, trying to figure out the best way to pleasure you. he loved feeling you get more and more wet for him by the minute, he couldn't get enough of you.

harry didn't want to stop. cumming once wasn't enough for him. he ignored your begging for him to wait, please, it's too much, holding your hands down with his own as he continued for several more minutes. he had waited so long to finally do this for you, showing you just how badly he wanted you. his dick was aching from how hard it was. this was easily the most turned on he'd been for you so far, watching and hearing you orgasm because of him, on his face, he was convinced there was nothing more enjoyable or desirable than this.

"harry, god damn it…" you sighed. he stayed between your legs in the same position, leaving loving and longing kisses on your thighs and stomach, enjoying the aftershocks your body was having in response to him, looking at you with hunger in his eyes.

"yes?" he asks innocently, still admiring your delicious pussy. "harry, i can barely move…" you whine, your body aching and sore. harry smiles devilishly at your weakness, loving the effect he's come to have on you.

he kisses up your body, leaving a desperate kiss on your lips as you taste yourself on him.

"that was even better than i ever imagined it could be," harry practically growls. you giggle at him, your eyes tired and lips bitten.

you look down at harry and see his throbbing erection through his pants. you look back at him, and offer to return the favor.

"oh, honey, you don't have to, you should rest…" harry insists, stroking your hair out of your face. but you're not backing down, and you at least convince him to let you help him out.

he lays next to you on the bed, shirt and pants off as you start feeling his dick through his briefs. harry's instantly desperate under your touch, realizing just how long he's waited for this moment, no longer having to imagine his own hand as yours.

"[y/n]..." harry moans, his eyes filled with lust as he looks over at you. you. blushing, beautiful, natural you. "i swear i could cum just looking at you."

you giggle at harry again, blushing into his chest as your hand continues to stroke him. you look back up at him innocently, admiring the look of desperation he couldn't hide. reaching for a kiss, harry moans softly into your mouth, his dick twitching in your hand.

"oh god…" harry whines, his head falling back in pleasure. you can tell he's close, just from light touching and barely any kissing. you can't help but giggle at his state, loving the control you have over him.

"go ahead, baby, cum for me," you whisper seductively.

that's all it takes for harry.

trying his best to keep his eyes on you, he comes completely undone under your touch. his breathing becomes completely ragged, breathy whimpers, vaguely trying to say your name the longer you stroked him. similar to how he kept going with you, you didn't back down. he begged you to stop, but you could tell he didn't really want you to stop any time soon. you kiss him to quiet his begging, continuing to overstimulate him until he came for a second time, ruining his briefs for good.

after cleaning yourselves up, harry gives you the longest, warmest, most loving hug you've ever received in your life. you bury your head in his chest, taking in the feeling and smell of his skin. his, now muscular, arms are wrapped tightly around you, holding you like harry had nothing left in this world but you.

"i love you, so much, and i'm so thankful for you." harry says, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

you hug him even tighter. "i love you, harry,"

————————————————————

by the time next semester starts, you and harry are full-blown boyfriend and girlfriend, constantly holding hands wherever you two go and seeing each other off to your classes or study sessions. people talked amongst themselves about the harry potter having a girlfriend, but you both paid no mind.

being with you has really made harry come out of his shell. by the time spring sports roll around, harry feels confident enough to try out for the university's quidditch team. with your support, of course.

it was never a question that he'd make the team, he instantly became their new seeker and brought the school out of their losing streak. through this, harry also made tons of friends, real friends, who wanted to get to know him outside of being harry potter.

not to mention that you had become his number one fan, showing up to every game and most practices to cheer on your best friend and help him strategize for future games.

in every aspect, harry's life completely changed for the better. he loved his classes, he loved his team, and above all else, he loved you, and felt like he owed everything he had to you.

the only thing that bothered harry anymore was that jerk you dated and introduced him to at the diner, thomas.

thomas hadn't made the quidditch team this season, and he made it very clear that he blamed harry for that. he tried spreading a rumor that harry paid his way in, but people didn't buy it after seeing just how well harry played every game.

but that's not what bothered harry. what bothered him was the way thomas used you to get to him.

everyone knew you and harry were dating. it was the topic of conversation on campus for nearly a week when everyone found out. so why is it that every time thomas talked to you when he saw you alone you had to remind him that no, you can't hang out sometime soon, you have a boyfriend now? to harry it felt personal, and he didn't like it.

it was one of the most important quidditch matches of the season, it determined the university's qualification for finals. harry was on top of his game, especially seeing you cheering for him in the stands, and won the match easily, being celebrated by his team on the field.

after taking a few photos and congratulating the rest of the players, harry eagerly runs to meet you at your usual spot just beside the stands to get his usual post-win kiss.

what he finds instead makes him see red.

thomas. he has you completely backed up to the stands, a clearly heated conversation going on between you two. harry can tell you're pissed just by looking at you, speaking with your hands and trying to walk away but being stopped by thomas each time. finally you push him away, and he grabs you.

that's all harry needs to see before he begins sprinting towards him, his mind racing a million miles an hour and yet completely blank at the same time.

you had managed to push thomas off of you, now yelling at him to get the fuck away from you before you rock his shit.

before you can even try, harry tackles thomas to the ground and begins rocking his shit for you.

you gasped. "harry! stop!" you tell him, not wanting him to get caught and punished. but harry doesn't stop. you've never seen this anger from him. it's like he can't stop, not showing any signs of fatigue or resistance.

"harry! stop!" you yell at him, grabbing him from behind and pulling him away. harry stops punching thomas, only to stand above him and kick him in the stomach. "harry." you warn him, giving him a concerned look. "stop. you'll get expelled." you tell him in a hushed tone.

harry looks at you, softening, coming back to earth as you motion for him to just walk away with you. harry looks down at thomas, a bleeding mess in the dirt, crying in the fetal position.

harry kneels next to thomas, making him flinch. harry points his wand at him and mutters quickly, "episkey."

thomas's nose fixes itself, his cuts heal, and his stomach bruise lightens. he looks at harry incredulously, feeling no physical pain, but in fear of the threat harry posed.

"don't ever fucking touch her again. do you understand? next time i won't be so nice." harry growls. thomas quickly nods his head, desperate to leave. harry stands up, sneering at him still in the dirt. "and don't talk to me either while you're at it." you add at the end, your voice just as intimidating as harry's. "got that?" harry asks sarcastically. thomas nods again, standing up and running away from harry.

as he turns to you, you notice his bloody nose, multiple cuts from the game, and bruised knuckles. "oh, harry," you coo sympathetically, grabbing his hands and examining them. "come on. let's go home."

and by home, you meant to your house. the university had upgraded your room and board in exchange for you to work for them as a professor's assistant in potions. it was a small cottage just outside of campus, one bedroom, one bathroom, but it was enough for you and harry.

walking into your living room, you send harry to the bathroom as you lock the door behind you and drop your stuff off on the dining table. you grab a rag from the kitchen and get it wet with warm water.

you enter the bathroom to see a shirtless harry already attempting to clean a wound on his chest. you can see his reflection in the mirror and are completely infatuated with his focused, bloody face concentrated on his reflection as he tends to his injury.

you come up behind him, barely able to rest your chin on his tall, broad shoulders. his reflection instantly softens, his muscles relaxing.

you turn him around, cleaning the wounds on his chest, arms, and hands. his knuckles were bruised, nothing a spell couldn't fix. "you're lucky you didn't break anything." you remind him.

he watches you so intently. your gentle, caring touch bringing him instant relief. even now, all these months later, you still mesmerize him every day. he's not sure he'll ever get used to having you for himself. but that's just what you were, for himself.

"i wanted to kill him. i would've killed him." harry reminds you, rubbing his knuckles. "sit, please," you ask quietly, pulling him over to the closed toilet. harry sits down, letting out a groan as his entire body aches from quidditch and nearly killing someone.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark and angry again just thinking about it before softening at you. you bring the rag to his face, wiping away blood and dirt from his scars. a tense silence falls between you two. harry can't tell if you're angry at him for what he did. he has no idea why, that thomas kid was dead meat as soon as he decided to touch you.

as you carefully finish cleaning the last of the dirt off harry's face, you notice how tenderly he's watching you. you sigh, holding his face in your hands.

"i'm not mad at you." you say. he swears you can read him like a book.

"but, you could've gotten in serious trouble. or hurt yourself. i just don't want to be the reason you're down." you explain, rubbing a thumb along his cheek.

"i would do anything for you." he reminds you, his hand finding yours.

you smile warmly at him. you can't stay upset with him for very long.

"then do this for me: stay out of trouble."

harry smiles. no promises.

as you're getting ready for bed, harry walks in from his shower in just a pair of shorts. you walk up to him, running your hands along his torso to make sure his scars are sufficiently clean. and to just admire your boyfriend in general.

harry revealed to you some time back his real reason for working out. you found it sweet, but a bit silly, as you could handle yourself perfectly well. however, tonight, harry proved you wrong. though you were never in immediate danger or physical harm, as far as you knew, it still felt really nice to know he had your back when things got scary.

while working out definitely helped his strength, quidditch is what really made his body so exceptional.

he was perfectly toned, incredibly strong, and more buff than he ever had been his entire life. you were never someone to have a thing for muscular guys, but something about watching harry's body get better and better with time just drove you crazy.

"you know," you start off, resting your hands on his chest. you could feel his heart racing. all this time later and he's still such a nervous wreck for you.

"i may not approve of it, but…i can't deny how fucking sexy you looked beating thomas up for me,"

harry could feel his blood boil just from you mentioning that douchebag's name, but he was somewhat distracted by your observation.

"oh, really?" he smirks, grabbing your waist possessively. you instantly have goosebumps, leaning into harry's tight grip. "mhm. i haven't stopped thinking about it…you in your quidditch uniform, your muscles, the anger in your voice…" you practically swoon for him.

harry blushes, but takes advantage of the situation. "i was seeing red." he recalls. "i was seriously going to fucking kill that loser for even thinking he could touch my girl."

you're instantly turned on by his fierce protectiveness. normally you find harry's jealousy funny, since he has no reason to ever worry about you, but tonight it made you see a completely different side of him…

harry was always so soft and careful with you, and was a normally mild-tempered person with everyone. the only time he really got upset was if someone was getting too comfortable with you too quickly. to see him completely lose his cool, to watch him unleash onto this guy who thought he could just grab you…

you were just so, so attracted to him right now.

"yes, your girl, all yours," you reassure him as you lean in for a kiss. he quickly takes control and brings you to your bed, laying you down with haste. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between sloppy kisses.

the lingering anger within harry needs to be released, immediately.

he quickly undresses you, a complete 180 of the old harry who was afraid to help you take off your bra. he practically rips your panties in half trying to get them off of you.

you're already soaking wet from his aggression. he smirks at you. "guess i should get angry more, yeah?" harry teases.

you blush, but you wouldn't exactly be against it.

as harry slowly begins thrusting into you, he feels that familiar bliss overcome him like it does every time he's inside of you.

you and harry have had sex a couple times before, mostly slow and passionate with lots of kissing, enjoying each other's bodies and intimacy.

but this time, harry was hungry for you.

not to say he never is. he might always be hungry for you, quite literally. but this time, he lets the hunger consume him.

harry's thrusts become less careful and more desperate, he leaves dark, aching bites all over your chest, marking what's his. "mine. mine. mine." he reminds you between each bite.

you're in a state of pure ecstasy. you didn't know harry could be so rough with you. his desperation usually came in the form of shy begging, whimpering, and a desire to please. but this kind of desperation was aggressive, jealous, and aimed to please himself. you didn't mind, you thought it was bloody hot. you also wanted to help harry get his anger out, and you were the perfect way to do that.

as his thrusts become more possessive and sloppy, his arms rest on either side of you, the sight above you enough to make your orgasm accelerate. a sweaty, tired, aching harry, desperate to prove something to you, looking at you like you're the first meal he's had in years. his muscles flexing, veins popping out, and his breathing becomes labored.

he can feel you tightening around him and quickened his pace. "harry, harry, i'm cumming," you warn him, whining, desperate for a release.

"that's right, cum for me, baby." he groans in your ear, wrapping his arms around you as he continues pounding into you relentlessly.

watching you fall apart under him is enough to send him over the edge himself. his head is buried in your neck as he breathes heavily, moaning your name in your own ear.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum inside you, baby. can you let me do that?" harry asks you, his sweaty face desperate for your approval. you nod quickly, eager to be his release in anyway you can.

"can you take it? can you be a good girl for me?" harry loves to dirty talk, and this is the hottest it's been yet.

"please, harry, please give it to me, please, please, i need you," you beg harry, grabbing his shoulders, feeling your body prepare for its second orgasm.

"take it, baby, take it, god, you feel so good," he groans into your ear, his hips stuttering as he cums deep inside you.

your body convulses from the feeling and watching harry melt into you. his face is relieved of all anger, his eyes soft and full of love for you as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss.

he steps back, watching his cum drip out of you, and could easily get turned on again just by the sight of you right now. but he's too tired, and he knows he has lots of time with you to do it all over again.

after cleaning up and crawling into bed, harry holds you against his chest. you're asleep in no time, steady breaths and slight snores coming from your peaceful expression. harry wraps his arm around you before leaving a kiss on top of your head.

"i love you, [y/n]. goodnight."

————————————————————

[if you actually read through all of this, i salute you. if you actually enjoyed it, pls let me know. i definitely want to post more like this in the future so i always appreciate any feedback <3 thank you!!! happy new year btw lol]

[injunism]

It’s my desire to give myself to you | p.js

→childhood friend!jisung x f!reader

genre: smut, romance, 80s au, childhood friends au, lost communication, open ended

synopsis: being the youngest in all friend groups has always proven to be beneficial for jisung but he’s no longer that little boy you met years ago. so why won’t you look at him for what he truly is: a man. he’ll have to prove it to you then.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! obsessive and whiney jisung, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk jisung, vaginal fingering, implied age gap although it’s not significant, public indecency, unprotected sex, bratty jisung, praise kink, bulge kink, begging, creampie, virginity loss (virgin jisung), alcohol consumption, infantilization mentions, overbearing mother.

wc: 11.6k+ || soundtrack || ao3

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

an: happy end of the year fic, I’d consider this an accomplishment (writing 3 fics in one year lol)

Summers began to be the best thing for Jisung starting at the age of nine. He might have gone to summer camp reluctantly at first, not wanting to join his older brother. He had enough of seeing him all the time at school and home so why did his parents think it was fine to take away his precious summers of pretending to be an only child? It was a rough start, that’s for sure; but being taken under the wing of older kids served to be more fun.

Up until the age of sixteen he lived in bliss waiting for the day summer break to begin and be back where he felt free from the watchful eyes of his parents, only seeing them twice a month for visitations. As for his brother? He had his own life to run and the two barely bumped into each other which was a blessing in disguise for him. His bags were always packed weeks prior to the departing date and when his mother started to ask if he truly wanted to go –for she has been missing him terribly due to their increasing mommy-son dates– Jisung didn’t hesitate on turning her down. Summer camp is all he looked forward to, the only thing he put effort into school for.

Nowadays the only yearly highlight comes in Winter for the holidays in the form of season greetings cards. He’s learnt to conform. “You get what you get and you don’t complain.” Is what he told himself often and that’s all the fight he has left in him the faster the years pass by.

“No mail for me?” Jisung asks with that same pleading whine laced onto his voice upon entering his parent’s home. Leaning down to kiss his mother’s cheek while she shuffles through the mail. She hums, elongating her words while flipping through the envelopes of bills and season greetings. Hoping her hesitance would cement the feeling of disappointment onto her son once more. “Well, it doesn't seem so… Oh! No. Here you go.” His mom utters with a slight smile, cruel as it is. “Took them longer to send this year. Thought the Y/l/n girl was going to fully desert you this year.” She quips balefully. Jisung gives her a quick glance before looking at the picture.

This is the most he sees and hears from you nowadays and it has become unsatisfactory. He wonders where things went wrong more often than he wants to. When he wakes up he thinks about it. When he brushes his teeth and showers he thinks about it. He’s burnt his hand thinking about why your letters minimize little by little every year and it so happens to be that this year he only received a happy birthday letter leaving him in the dark for the following ten months until today. If you can call it that, all the card says is: “May the beauty of the Holidays bless your home with happiness.” Signed off in golden glitter: The Y/l/n Family. No hand written note on your part, no acknowledgement at all. He’s sure your mother only sent it as his address hasn’t been erased from their address book. Otherwise, he’s not sure if his –hopefully– mother-in-law knows or remembers who he is.

“She’s been busy.” Jisung defends in a murmur, turning on his heel to walk upstairs to his room. “She told you that?” His mother yells back sardonically once he turns the corner. He ignores her but the glimmer of her pearly whites blind him through his peripheral view. A reminder that he can try to ignore reality but his mother will always be there to remind him. She wouldn’t understand it. She won’t understand when all she sees is that little nine year old coming back from camp excitedly telling her about the friends he made and the pretty girl he wouldn’t stop talking about.

Or the ten year old that was so ecstatic to come back and ask her for her pretty paper to write a letter to that same pretty girl that finally hugged him and gave him her address to write letters to. She took his too and put it in her ‘important things’ box. Jisung saw you do it.

But Jisung is twenty-two now and lives off of the crumbs he gets to devour whenever he rereads every single letter you’ve sent him. His favorite ones are the birthday letters when you send him pictures of yourself with cakes you’ve baked for him even if he couldn’t eat them. He’s content knowing you cared for him that much. He clings to hope more when this year the cake looked even prettier but not as pretty as you in the multiple pictures sent.

He doesn’t entirely care if you only sent one this year or that you did not reply to his own birthday letter for you. He’s glad that you still cared enough to bake him his cake and let him see how much prettier you’ve gotten. One of those pictures is in his wallet at the moment.

It’s insane, no? To fall so head over heels for someone that has never been his. Jisung has known you for over ten years but nothing has progressed past embraces, friendly hand holding, and constant cheek pinches because you found him awfully cute. He still feels your touches linger despite lastly seeing you in person at sixteen.

Longing is the word he’s looking for. Longing and yearning is all he’s done since that last time he saw you and it becomes worse through the years with little to no communication. He wonders if you’re truly that busy to not spare him a few minutes to write back. Or if you’ve found someone that has prohibited you from contacting him further.

He foolishly expected a letter for his college graduation the way you sent him one for his high school graduation but it never came. He’s kept in contact with his other summer camp friends but they’re no good with information regarding you. Most but one left in the dark about your whereabouts. The last he heard from Jaemin, you had gotten a job and as vague as it is, that’s all he told Jisung.

Useless but also valuable. He envies Jaemin sometimes. He was the only one able to get far more closer to you and he doesn’t fully know how to feel about it. While you spent treating Jisung like a child, like a younger brother, things were always complicated between you and Jaemin. Vague as he is, to be specific.

All he can do now is lay on his bed with a cassette he bought precisely because you recommended it. He doesn’t like it but he does like you so he will endure. Endure like he’s done with anything regarding his yearning for you.

With your deliciously perfumed letters, fountain ink stains all over the pages, and images of you scattered across his bed with the music full blast on his walkman— Jisung revels in the pleasure of your indirect touch. Your fingerprints embedded on the paper and their oils seeping into his own skin the way they did years ago with every single one of your touches. He wished those touches were far more than playful and cuteness aggression. That the times your fingers lingered were because you wanted him as near as he wanted you. But once again, he will conform.

Conform, conform, conform.

In his state, Jisung doesn’t hear his mother’s covert steps when he twirls on the bed with images of you laying on his face. And he surely doesn’t hear her when she cracks the door open to spot his hands lingering on his thighs, memories of the time Hyuck and Chenle snuck alcohol on the grounds and all of you had a ball with it. He remembers your hands vividly on his short-clad thighs, giving them gentle squeezes as you chewed his ear off. He remembers the names Ralph Machio and James Spader spewing from your lips here and there. He wanted to shut them up with his, consumed by jealousy but also wonder how they’d feel against his.

Of course he didn’t, the alcohol made things seem funnier than they were and he wouldn’t overstep. Not when he knew his role in the group was to be cute and be taken care of. That’s how you liked him most, he noticed.

And when he twists again to fight off the temptation of letting his fingers crawl to the hem of his pants, a face he’s known all his life is looking at him directly. Startling more when frustrated. “Park Jisung!” leaves her lips, sending his body into a shocking jolt and his walkman flying across the room. His body crushed the photographs he was admiring, much to her delight.

“Mom!” Jisung whines, holding onto his dangerously fast palpating heart. He huffs and pants, attempting to relax himself before dropping another word. “What?” He aims to say calmly but she’s far from that. Her hands on her hips and a stern look around his bed transmits her disappointment, disgust, and anger.

“I read your grandmother’s letter and it turns out she will be spending the remainder of the month with us after all.” Silent scoff, as if this was the most absurd thing. “Take a run to the mall and get her a gift. I didn’t count on her even contacting us.” Well, that explains her foul mood. It’s made worse when all he musters is a nod but doesn’t make an effort to stand up. God, how she would love to pull him by those raven locks or his ear. Whatever gets the message through.

“Well hurry!” That’s all she can muster.

So Jisung does, collecting everything he can and shoving it into a locked box while his mom turns to walk out the door. Embarrassed is all he feels besides shaken up from the scare he gained.

“Don’t forget your gloves and scarf. Don’t want you to catch another cold.” She mutters while mixing whatever she was cooking. It smelled fine but he knew her food became dangerous when cooking upset. It had a life of its own. He hums as a reply, wanting to leave it at that. “Jisung.” She calls again, calmly this time, turning halfway to look at him.

“Forgetting something?”

He shakes his head, bundled up under all warm clothing.

“Sure?”

He nods and she huffs, walking towards him. She kisses his cheeks and the tip of his nose, cupping his face. That reminds him, manifested in a sigh and a smile that he leans down to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

His bid farewell always leaves him upset. He’s twenty-two, why does she still treat him like he was three? Just yesterday his brother couldn’t stop pinching his cheek after buying him a crepe. Continuing to compare him to a cute little hamster despite Jisung having surpassed him in height.

Three weeks ago when he met with Jaemin to talk about you, the words ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ would not stop spewing from his lips the way bile does. With the exception that Jaemin welcomed these in comparison. Mark, similarly enough, always clutches his face with restraint from crushing his skull and then engulfs him with a bone crushing hug that leaves him aching for minutes to pass.

He thinks Jeno is the only one with sense that treats him his age, yet he’s caught him other times babying him at the arcade. Especially when a stranger playing against Jisung wants to get quippy and there he becomes that eleven year old that Jeno and Hyuck had to defend from some idiots that had just watched Star Wars and felt inclined to the dark side.

Jisung decided to take the car, it was getting colder and he felt the remnants of snowflakes begin to fall even if they could only be seen under a microscope but he was sure of it. He contemplated walking in hopes of ailing himself to disturb his mother’s sanity but proved futile knowing she’d hover over him 24/7 until betterment. Therefore, his sanity would be the one disturbed.

For such a busy season, the streets looked empty and the mall itself wasn’t entirely full besides the movie theatre parking lot. Their billboard lights blinding him the longer he stares to see which movie seemed fun. He should at least get some enjoyment out of this. He can decide later. RIght now he has to pick up something he thinks a geriatric angry woman would like.

Let’s see… She likes disgustingly small yappy dogs like chihuahuas— as angry as her. She likes cats as sick as her… some yarn and new patterns should be a good gift. She doesn’t like those.

Decidedly, Jisung will take a stroll towards the end of the mall. Taking his sweet time to enjoy the scenery of the water fountain. He truly does like the mosaic. The flamingo pink tiles crawl up into a gradient of green tiles that surround the mouth where water spurts out. In better times, it shines under the sun. Right now, not so much.

He doesn’t leave before throwing in five pennies. Five for his birthday and five for safe measure that his wishes are secured. He always wishes for the same two things. Three to hear from you and two to beat Jeno’s centipede high score.

Jisung smiles and nods to himself, walking past the fountain, some water spraying on him. He doesn’t mind, he’ll take it as a sign that one of the two is to be granted soon.

Halfway through a cinnamon sugar pretzel after nearly choking from its dryness, Jisung decides to touch his heart and not gift his grandmother something she doesn’t like despite her being such a vile woman. Instead he should give her something that she won’t ever be able to lift and only admire which leads him to Sur la Table on the east wing of the mall. He grumbles and huffs annoyedly at the walk but he knows it’ll be worth it. Hell, maybe he’ll steal it for himself when she goes senile.

The only thing that he appreciates about this wing is the warm yellow lights from French and Italian wannabe restaurants that aim to attract hungry consumers and cooks. He enjoys the set up at Sur la Table, mainly because he gets to play with their faux kitchen setups and the shock on people’s faces when they overpay for these cookware items. Fooled into consumption from their fabricated experience.

He plays with some of the display pots and pans, twisting knobs and reading tags to see how pretentious he’ll feel after learning about Swedish enamel. He doesn’t know how much that matters —if it's a cash grab— but it sounds fancy. Before him, he prepares some plates. A nice hearty bowl of Caldo de Gallego. Jisung doesn’t know nor understands what it is but he remembers hearing it while flipping through the channels when his father got cable. A monumental moment for him.

“No dessert?”

And just like when his mother scared him shitless back in the privacy of his own room. A familiar voice snapped him out of his public exposition daze.

He goes through the same motions he went through back home. Clutching his harshly palpitating heart, panting and huffing to regain his composure, and feeling embarrassment. If he went through this once more today, he’ll definitely faint for good.

It’s far more embarrassing this time around. He took advantage that the store was nearly empty and no one came to this side of the store but he was proven wrong. Worse yet, the person that scared him was waiting for an answer.

Jisung still feels and hears his heart blaring in his ears but he tries to act cool. Only to fail when his knees buck once he registers the face that’s been accompanying him for the past ten months in his wallet. Albeit something was different. The length and color of your hair that’s for sure.

“Don’t be a stranger, come on.” Your voice is as sweet as he recalls.

Fuck, how he missed it…

Your arms extend to him, pleading for his embrace. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want— as always. Swaddling you with his long limbs and making sure you can’t let go until he is done savoring this moment. He’s truly craved this for as long as he can remember.

A soft giggle works to ease his grip, letting you go with a nervous chuckle of his own. “Sorry.” He speaks, shyly covering his mouth with a sleeve covered hand. The apology not only yours to receive but himself as well for reacting like the little boy he was when you met; for the miniscule regression. He takes in your light head shake but tender smile. It’s a different scene from when he last saw you. There’s an obvious distance that he does not like.

“How have you been? You’ve grown so much!” Instinctively, your hands reach for his face, cradling it while attempting to restrain yourself from pinching his cheeks. You’ve already overstepped by touching him. Instead you give him an awkward giggle and the following words. “What happened to my little Jisungie? You’re even taller than last time.” Jisung can sense your desire to grab him and handle him like you used to but for some reason you’re holding back.

‘Please, please don’t deny me this. Touch me, hug me, pinch me… Just please touch me…’ Jisung wants to blurt out. He’s been starving for years and he finally has you before him, so why won’t you feed him? Don’t be so gluttonous, please…

Jisung won’t voice any of it, he opts to nod with that same gummy smile that you love. “Growth spurt, stuff like that.” He attempts to sound nonchalant but he’s so giddy that he can’t contain himself. You read him like a book.

“So, uh… What are you doing here? I never thought I’d see you in my town.” He questions, scratching his head. You’ve always been a good eight hours away from him, meeting him halfway for camp. Six if you count Chenle’s birthday party in ‘81 in which his parents paid for everyone’s transportation.

Your hesitance doesn’t go unnoticed by him but he wont prod. He’s content with having you near, he thinks so. He’ll be sure to start throwing quarters into the fountain for granting him this wish at least.

“Work actually,” You hum, body swaying while you nod. “Oh, right! Jaemin mentioned you got a job, congrats!” He celebrated with genuine happiness but the inkling of curiosity never left him.

‘Please talk to me. Please say more, I crave your voice. Please, I’m too malnourished, can’t you see?

“Did he?”

“That was about it. You know how vague he can be.”

You hum and nod again. This awkward cycle frustrating and hurting him.

Jisung has not spent the past six years missing you for this encounter to be short lived. He’s aware six years was a long time ago and he’s definitely lost contact with other friends but they’ve never mattered the way you do and there’s no way he’s going to waste this opportunity.

“Hey, why don’t we catch up, yeah?” He clutches his arm, swinging a bit and lips puckering before pressing them tightly amongst each other. Your immediate reluctance is easily spotted and it only makes him ache more. He’s not sure what has elicited this behavior but whatever it is, he’ll kick himself over it when you’re not around.

“I don’t know, Ji… I have a report to work on.” You avoid his gaze, knowing that the second you see his pleading eyes you’ll cave in. He knows that too and he knows that if he makes his voice a tad bit squeaky, you’ll begin to crack. You always do.

“Y/n-ie, please…” He tilts his head, crouching to meet your gaze. His big round eyes glistening either from the lights, his own natural charm, or the tears that will spill if you pay him no mind. He doesn’t mean to pout but when his lower lip involuntarily juts out you let out a defeated noise through your teeth followed by grabbing his cheeks and stroking them softly, uttering a “Fine, fine!” to satiate his nerves and your own craving of touching his face like you once did.

His grandma can wait, it’s not like she’ll even use the cookware set any time soon.

“What were you even doing back there?” You break the silence, both walking towards the exit. Without you looking, he tosses a quarter out of gratitude into the fountain when passing by. He swears he can see the tiles gleam and let out satisfied clinks. They’re just as thankful.

With a hand to the back of his neck, he laughs softly. Head turning to you with excuses in mind yet he opts to tell the truth. “I like to pretend it’s my own kitchen whenever I go in there.” He laughs embarrassedly to which he is received with a silent ‘cute’ and observing look.

He’s glad he distracted you but it also feels like a backhanded compliment. Adorable. RIght, that’s what you still think of him.

“By the way. Do you mind grabbing a drink instead? Not a huge fan of coffee… Unless you want to of course.” Jisung suggests, putting his gloves on once both reach outside. He notices your lack of scarf and undoes his while you contemplate an answer. Halting your train of thought when he wraps it around you which ends up making you blurt out a “Sounds good!” in return.

It’s no surprise that the car ride was full of silence but at least the radio muffled your thoughts and hopefully his own if he had any regarding the atmosphere. There was a part of him that grew resentful and hurt with the lack of conversation but the greater part was ecstatic to have you so near. This is what he’s dreamt and wished for for years and he finally has it. He does not plan on wasting any millisecond of both your times.

Jisung wasn’t an avid drinker and did not know much about alcohol besides what his friends have shown him. His parents didn’t drink and his grandmother would shove a can of miller high life onto his hand if he ever spoke more than his usual five sentences. The way parents shove a bottle into a crying baby’s mouth to put it to rest. Why did he request a drink instead, though? Simply to gain some courage. Lord knows he’ll need it if things keep going the way they’ve been.

The place he took you to wasn’t that different from the ones you’ve been to during your college days. With ugly stained yellow walls, dart boards and old decorations hanging on them. Wooden columns covered in thick layers of resin as were the counters and tables. Grumpy beer-bellied bar tenders arguing over the football game playing on screen right now with already drunk customers. Yeah, not ideal for a first date but the only bar he knew. The only piece worth being valuable a signed poster of James Hunt.

What the hell was James Hunt doing in this fuck ass town?

He let you go in first upon finding a booth hidden in the back of the bar. Far more darker and cozier at this end. Perhaps due to the lack of distance he kept between you two when he himself slid in, his arm instinctively resting on the backrest of the booth around your head. The need to simply wrap it around your shoulders killing him.

“Pretty cold out there, right?” Jisung began, removing his gloves and jacket, shoving ghe former in the pockets. You didn’t turn to him, responding with a hum as you remove the scarf. He frowns at this, slumping against the backrest, watching you look through the standee with all drink names.

“What are you ordering, Jisung?” He hadn’t thought about it, more immersed in hearing your voice. Either Way he didn’t know a single brand of alcohol, ‘Lite’ the only word in relevance to alcohol that he knew. “You choose, I’m fine with whatever.” He diverts, leaning closer to you to read the alcohol options.

Though, as if you could read minds, you turn to look at him. A soft smile with narrowed eyes focusing on him. “Are you sure you want to drink? We can get something else, I don’t mind.” You suggest, expression relaxing now seeing how easily he reacted.

“Yes! I mean no! No, I would really like a drink, unless you want something else.” Jisung tumbled through his words. The bashful look on his face raises your lack of restraint in grabbing and handling him the way you’ve done so many years ago. Oh how truly adorable he remains. Although, he’s gotten quite handsome. Too handsome for his own good.

“Okay,” You nod, fingers ghosting over his cheek to reassure him– never touching, just yet.

Raising your hand to call a bartender over, one of the two begrudgingly stroll to your table. Tossing a worn out and smelly towel over his shoulder, he gives both of you a look as if to hurry up and order. With reluctance and indignance, you scoff. “Two blackberry smashes. Whiskey in both.”

“We ain’t got that stuff here.” His mannerisms were comical and absurd. As if he was angry that a request was made but also so nonchalant, so careless for your presence. More interested in going back to his game.

“Fine, two pints of your house beers, tap and two shots of your cheapest tequila. ” Jisung thinks your voice now matches the arrogance and annoyance of the bartender. He sort of likes it, it reminds him of the times you yourself had defended him against snobs at camp.

The balding bartender grunts as a response, sounding like an okay before leaving. “Swear, it’s like he's being held at gunpoint to work here, Jesus.” You shake your head, attitude dropping when you notice his reddened cheeks. Curse him and his presentable fondness. “Oh I’m sorry, Ji. Was I being mean?” Your body turns to him, hand clutching his out of habit. Jisung smiles at the contact, looking at it briefly before looking at you. “No, you were perfect.” He utters, reveling in your touch.

You smile at him, embarrassed. Something that he takes with pride. “You never told me what you were cooking up in that kitchen, you know.” You aim to divert the focus. He chuckles at it, “Caldo de Callo. I heard it on TV, I think the host said it was a Spanish dish. Never had Spanish food.” He sounded so proud yet clueless at the same time. Though, you tilt your head, lips parting and closing the further your eyebrows furrow. He hears you hum and finally ask, “Do you mean Caldo Gallego?”

Jisung can see you stifle a laugh when his face begins to feel insanely hot, scorching even. Embarrassment written all over his face that he has to bury them in his sleeve-covered hands, groaning into them about how stupid he sounded. If only he knew that what he originally said translated to ‘callous soup’.

Endearing is the word you’d call it though. Endearing he is with his crescent shaped eyes and shamed pout. Endearing are the whines and groans he lets out when you can’t seize your giggles. He thinks about telling you to stop but doesn’t, your noises far more prettier and enjoyable even if at the expense of his misery.

“It’s okay, Jisungie.” You elongate his name, “It sounds similar, don’t fret too much!” You giggle, petting his hair as one does a child trying to comfort them. He enjoys your touch but doesn’t enjoy the slight patronizing tone to your voice. He’s not sure if he can call it patronizing because he’s aware there’s no malice intent behind your words but it did sound condescending in the way those speak to their juniors and he was tired of you treating him like one the longer the night progressed.

Jisung huffs, sighing when his head touches the table. He turns to look at you momentarily, distracted when your drinks arrive. He hears a few forced thank you’s and sarcastic my pleasures. Your feud with the bartender is amusing but not for this time. Right now he wants to focus on this sentiment brewing in his chest.

He gives you one last glance before reaching for the shot glasses. “To seeing each other again?” Such a simple question that made you hum pensively. You don’t deny it, clinkling your glasses together before dowing the burning liquor. With the taste of battery acid buring your throat, Jisung on the other hand clutches his throat, spitting it out onto a bundle of napkins.

You find him so agonizingly cute that your hands begin to ache to touch him and squeeze the life out of him. How adorable can someone be?! “Oh Jisungie… Tequila isn’t for everyone.” You tut, shaking your head. “Perhaps I should order you some apple juice to soothe that, yeah?”

Your giggle makes his ears ring, that same gnawing feeling that you're mocking him consuming him. He knows you’re not doing it on purpose. That you truly care for his wellbeing but is he truly that easy to perceive as naive and childish that you won’t see him as more? Sure, he didn’t like the tequila but so what? It was their cheapest one. If it had been a bit more expensive, then he’s sure he would have drank it as easy as you. He’s not a kid, why won’t you see that?

Jisung doesn’t voice it though, sighing while redirecting the conversation. “Were you doing some last minute shopping back at the mall?” He questions, obvious discontent and melancholy in his voice. You let it be, nodding as a response before shaking your head when you register the question. Too enthralled with how pretty he looks like this. Face flushed from the alcohol and embarrassment. So cute, so adorable, so perfect. Your Jisungie.

“No, no, actually I went with intentions to watch a movie but the cinema won’t play the movie I wanted to watch so I was on my way out when I saw you through the window doing your little thing.” Your giggle sends him into orbit. He feels lightheaded. Your words weren’t laced with judgment but fondness, he’s thankful for it this time.

“What movie?” Jisung attempts to act as if you didn’t affect him.

“Uh…” Your hesitance piques his interest. “Sex, Lies, and Videotape.” Well it seems that it’s you who is embarrassed now. He takes it, smiling to himself. “Gee, I wonder why they wouldn’t screen this at a regular movie theater.” He giggles, wiping the corner of his mouth when he feels some leftover alcohol residing there.

“Okay now, I had just gotten out of a meeting. My brain was not fully cooperating.” He giggles some more, his teeth now clutching his sleeve. “Honestly, why would a movie like that interest you?” You smile at him, the rim of your beer glass pressing against your lips. “James Spader.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, a scoff leaving his lips while he himself takes a sip of his beer. It’s unrefined and messy. The way the lager alcohol slips down the corner of his mouth and slicks his lips when he places it down. You watch it all through the window of your own, taking slow sips to admire his silent tantrum. He’s never been fond of James Spader. Or any other man you’ve mentioned.

“He’s not all that, you know.” Jisung mutters with a pout, leaning against the backrest. You don’t laugh like you intended. You simply acknowledge him through the handkerchief you pull out of your pocket to softly wipe the residue of beer before it becomes sticky on his skin. He can taste the flavor of your black cherry lip gloss when you swipe it over his lips.

Such an intimate moment prompts him to take a grasp of your free hand, playing with your fingers like he’s done before. “Oh please. He’s the perfect blend of sensible and… manly.” Jisung can only guess you’re thinking of James Spader with the way you bite your lower lip and narrow your eyes. A lustful sigh escapes your nostrils which serves as confirmation to his inquiry.

Seemed like a bunch of bullshit, if you were to ask Jisung what he thought. If you wanted those qualities then why didn’t you realize how perfect Jisung was? Maybe he’s being a little self absorbed or malleable to your desires but so what? He’ll do anything to make you look at him.

Furrowing his eyebrows, dropping your hand and pointing at his chest, Jisung spoke. “I’m sensible and manly!” It sounded more whiny than he expected which would prove to throw off whatever result he wished for. Of course it would, your laugh seems to provide an answer to such.

“I don’t know about the latter…” Your hum upsets him more.

“I am!”

“I don’t know. Just look at how cute you look pouting like that…”

Jisung huffs, upset at your continuous dismissiveness. Must you always remind him of his inferiority? What must he do if you won’t see that he’s a grown man now?

“I am, I’ll prove it to you.” His tone must have sounded significantly bratty that you receive it with patronization. Sarcastically telling him to prove it then if he was so manly.

So he did. He did in the way his large hands cradled your face, warming up your cheeks although that might be from the immediate heat his actions spurred. He proves it through his stealthy moves, bringing his face closer to yours in which he allows his lips to ghost over yours for milliseconds before finally connecting them.

Shocked is what you would describe this feeling clinging onto your chest. Never in a million years would you have thought about kissing Jisung. Sure, you’ve kissed his cheeks and forehead in the past, but that’s what friends do with someone they find adorable and innately drawn to. Jisung has always been hard to avoid, even if you wanted to, one look in those glistening round eyes and you’d submit to his every wish. Everyone does.

His lips moved with inexperience, soft and slow but uncoordinated with no idea where to go from there. His internal debates made obvious when he would part his lips for a second before going back to what seemed like peppered pecks. The way dolphins kiss. You wonder if this is his first kiss or how he kisses overall. If so, you’re only sorry that it’s so miserable.

Jisung eventually determines that he should stop. Either from shame at how uneventful it was or, well, simply because it was uneventful. Rather you two stare at each other for what felt like ages. His confidence is dying down along with your shock. By now both reverting back to your usual personas which meant that he shyly tried to look around without breaking eye contact and you, sternly looking at him without blinking much in order to gain answers.

He sighs knowing this was a lost cause. Rubbing the back of his neck, his body shifts to face you more than before. “Why haven’t you sent me any letters? Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?...” Jisung hates how easy it is for him to transmit his emotions onto his voice. While he hates to sound whiny, he would prefer that over the hurt that enveloped every single syllable he’s spewed out. What he hates more is that he’s not able to shut his mouth. “You have my home number, you have my address. Why haven’t you replied to my letters?”

“Jisung…”

“No! Please tell me.” God, how he hates how dismissive you can be, “I’ve been waiting for you for years. Please give me something, anything.”

Jisung’s face contorts the longer he begs, his lips reddening and puffing more than normal. His cheeks are ravished by that harsh crimson that warms them, borderline scorching. His voice, now a mixture of hurt but whiney that makes you shift at how uncomfortable you are that it spurred something in your chest, now traveling down to your abdomen. You really want to slap yourself for this.

Your Jisungie. Your sweet Jisungie, you idiot!

“I’m sorry, Ji. I was busy with my discretion and didn’t have time for anything. Then I graduated and it was a bloodbath to even get a job right out of college. I mean, I almost threw myself to the sharks and contemplated going to a convent. Can you imagine? All my hard work wasted. Then this year…”

Almost like a child that should have not spoken, Jisung raises an eyebrow when you reach for your beer glass, using it as a shield to make you stop talking. He grew increasingly irritated by your silence. “This year what, Y/n?!”

He’s never spoken to you like this which raises concerns with how you don’t mind it. In fact, you surprisingly invite it, although in minimal quantities. Seeing as there was no way out of it, you sigh, shoulders slumping. “Then this year I saw your mom at the film store around Easter. We were both picking up pictures and we talked for a bit until I asked about you and she said that you had a girlfriend. That I should probably be conscious that not all girls are comfortable with their boyfriend being so close to other girls. That she wouldn’t take kindly to seeing me send you letters so often, let alone pictures…”

Jisung has never been angry at his mother. Sure, irritated and hurt. But never angry, which seems to be a feeling he never thought he’d harbor for the woman that has given him life and all the love a child deserves. He knew his mom wasn’t too keen on his infatuation on you, he’s not sure if it’s for the difference in age or weary of someone she hasn’t fully met besides a few encounters on drop-off and pick-up day at camp.

He always imagined that she would come around once she truly met you, so why was she trying to sabotage him on something he’s been begging every single deity for?!

“So, if you have a girlfriend, why the hell did you just do that, Jisung?” The disgust and confusion in your voice made him feel far more awful than he already was. Appalled would probably be a greater feeling, though. He’s made sure to let you know that with the harsh ‘what?!’ that spews out of his lips like a hymn.

“What the fuck? I’ve never had a girlfriend. Jesus fucking Christ, why would she say that?” He questions the latter to himself, unaware that he’s confessed his inexperience to you (as if it wasn’t noticeable); shifting his attention to you shortly after. “Why would you believe her in the first place? I’ve never looked at anyone but you! Why won’t you see that?”

It’s not his grasp on your shoulders that startles you but rather the sincerity in his confession. Never in a million years did you think you’d be hearing these words from Jisung. The fuzziness in your chest adds to that shock which confuses you and at the same time disgusts you.

Jisung is far more perceptive than you had thought, “Please… It’s been you since the summer we met…” He goes back to pleading, his grasp softening. Kneading your arms as to beg for contact on your end. You hate how much this is luring you into whatever he wants. You’ve never been able to say no to him, yet again these found feelings are clashing with those you’ve fostered since you met him.

It’s vile and conflicting to see him in such a sweet light. As your junior who’d you do anything for, to… this incessant needy and lovestruck man that keeps begging for an ounce of affection in any form possible. If it was for Jisung he’d be on his knees kissing the sole of your shoe as long as you get to tell him you love him the way he loves you.

You sigh, contemplating on what to do or what to feel. “I don’t know, Jisung.” You huff conflicted. You’ve always been like a little br–” His hand covers your mouth before you can even finish your sentence. His eyes tremble and you realize that he’s much closer than he had been. “Don’t finish that. Please don’t ever say that again…” He begs and begs. Either it be his words, the way his eyes look at you, or his body language.

“I’m twenty-two, I’m taller than my own older brother or any of the friends we made in camp. I can drink and smoke if I want. I’m a man now, Y/n. Not that scrawny squeaky voiced kid you met long ago. I don’t need you to see me like that. So please… erase that from your brain and see me as I am now.”

You don’t know if you hate him or yourself at the moment. You’ve never been one to reject change, in fact you welcome it but it’s different when it comes to the image of people you like. Fuck it, you’re even upset at how deep you’re thinking about this when within a few minutes you might think this is stupid and unserious.

“If age is the problem, don’t let it get to you. We don’t even have a disgusting gap. For goodness sake, we were in the same group classifications every year at camp and Mark had already hit the group limit. That should be enough to get you out of whatever hellhole you’re digging yourself into.”

See? Eventually things could turn so unserious and with the sound of his voice, rather bratty and accusatory. “Do you not like me, is that it? Do you not find me desirable?” He questions, head nodding to incentivize an answer from you. He almost makes it seem natural and you wonder how many times he’s done this before. Push people’s buttons until he gets an answer. You suppose he truly has grown.

The Jisung you last knew would never whine for something like this. All he had to do was say please with a pout and he’d get what he wanted. Far more innocent and civilized. This was crude, erotic, and mocking. You expect him to give you a cheshire smile when he gets what he wants in comparison to his gummy one full of appreciation.

Yes, he’s no longer a boy. He’s now a sweetly cunning man.

“It’s not that.” You blurt out, cursing yourself at the admittance that he has more of a chance than either of you could’ve thought. Expectedly, that cheshire smile presents itself slowly. Sultrily, he speaks. “Then what is it?” He whispers, lips to your ear as his hands create a path down your upper body.

The words hang heavy on your tongue, distracted by his touch. Finding his large hands more pleasurable than you could’ve thought. “I actually don’t know…” You confess sincerely, eyelids fluttering when they land on your knee, fingers padding over the clothed flesh. Contemplating on whether to stay where they are at or slide up.

Ecstatic by your bodily response, he smiles sweetly. Whispering in your ear, “Let me prove it to you… Let me erase that image of me you have, please…” He begs, lips trailing to your cheek, a blazing trail branding your skin. When they reached your lips, you couldn’t deny him the wonders of being kissed in return.

You both sigh into the kiss the second they perfectly slot into each other. It’s slick and wet, albeit, much more pleasurable than his first one. This one you’re able to enjoy the delicacy of those plump red lips that envelope yours and leave a delicious sting that makes you crave for more.

Your hands paw at his sweater, drawing him closer to feel his warmth. He takes this opportunity to let his hands roam up your thighs, massaging the insides until he decides that he won’t wait and lets his hand crawl to the hem of your skirt. His hands –scorching– against your skin when he manages to pull down your tights. Bunching them around your knees and covering your legs with his jacket.

He smiles into the kiss when he feels you react to his feather touches. Taunting the idea of touching you further. He’s not too cruel though, not when this is what he’s wanted for so long. Therefore, he decides to reward both of you by letting his fingers go under your panties, the cotton feeling like heaven against his knuckles. He revels in the feeling of your wetness clinging to the fabric. Cooling against his skin while he lets his fingers waltz up and down your folds. Contemplating what their next move will be, unpreoccupied since you seem to enjoy whatever he is currently giving you. He can see it with the way your eyelids flutter and the kiss grows hungrier, needier. This is all he truly wanted.

Jisung decides to not taunt you any longer. He’s never wanted to upset you. Allowing his fingers to softly part your lips, twisting his ring clad middle finger and inserting the long digit into you. They felt so cold within your walls, forcing a gasp to leave your lips. He took that opportunity to muffle it with his tongue the second it intruded the cavity of your mouth.

The muscle, surprisingly strong as it dances along with yours, savoring the delicacy of your taste. This is overshadowed by the spasm of your legs the slower he pumped his finger into you. Molding your walls to the ribs of his nimble and spindly digits. Your pleasure is exerted through sighs and hungry kisses which he consumes all you give him. He thinks this is enough incentive to insert a second finger. This time his ring finger, quickly adapting it to the movement of the other one. It’s nice to feel the contrast between his warm acclimated finger to the cold shorter one.

His fingers move slowly, picking up the pace when he decrees that you deserve more pleasure than he currently grants you. He’s driven by the way you cling to him, hands going under his sweater and clutch his sides, fingernails softly taking the warm flesh. Jisung finds it delicious how you cling to him the way your walls grip to his fingers. Sucking him in and keeping them in place whenever he thinks of even taking them out without making you come first.

Neither speak but the silent mewls that leave your lips is enough to let him know he’s doing something good. He’s proven right when you softly nip at his swollen lips, sucking on the lower one, resulting in him releasing a shaking breath.

You will be the death of him.

Jisung found that he loved how you look when you writhe in pleasure in his arms. He thinks you look otherworldly with the way your lips part to release those sweet chants he has recorded in his brain. Enticing when your tongue sticks out to cling to his and his lips just to know he’s still there making you feel better than you’ve felt in a while. He knows you're ready when you gnaw at his lips and jaw, holding to the back of his neck as your lips trail as hungrily as his, prior. Leaving a trail of rouge that he wishes to seep into his skin like a tattoo.

When he feels your teeth cling to his jugular, he can’t help but let out a guttural moan, thankful at how secluded this booth was. His fingers reward that feeling by moving faster, his thumb rubbing delicate yet quick circles on your clit. At some point he felt scared that your cunt would swallow his rings with every clench around his fingers. You were so close and all he felt was pride and gratification that it was him that was making you feel this way.

Fuck, he could explode in his pants right now.

“Jisungie…I can’t hold back anymore.” You pant, leaving open mouthed kisses along his Adam's apple. Tongue roaming and savoring the saltiness of his skin taut on his clavicles.

He’s no one to make you suffer and not get what you want. Instinctively, his fingers pick up the pace, pushing them as far as he can. Curling them and covering your mouth when the volume of your prayers increase. Swallowing them whole when he connects his mouth with yours, luxuriating in the sybaritism of your orgasm through your kiss and spasming legs.

It takes you a minute to calm down, panting softly. Jisung looks down at you with a pleased smile, his fingers still in you, pruning by the second but he doesn’t mind. He sighs constantly, kissing you softly this time. It’s sweet and tender, similar to the first one he gave you with the difference that your cooperation makes it run smoothly.

When he parts, his fingers slowly ease out, causing you to shudder. You feel so empty and cold at the lack of his touch. Rewared only by the mere fact that he prods your lips with his ring finger, slowly entering your mouth. You savor yourself on him, tongue running along the underside, lingering on his finger pad.

No one has ever done this for you. Look at and treat you like you’re their whole world despite the lewd scenery.

His finger slips far more slick from your lips than it had entered your mouth. He takes them up to his own, running them along like a brush on the most pristine parchment. Letting its ink sink into the grooves and cement itself for eternity.

Biting your lower lip, you examine the way he takes both fingers into his mouth. Pupils blown out once he’s fully swallowing the taste of you in all forms. He knew you were perfect but this is beyond that. This is an exquisiteness he’s never savored before. He will never be satisfied again.

Jisung leans down making you think he was to kiss you again. The reality was that your essence was more inebriating than the shot of tequila and the pint of beer sitting on the table before him that he had to have a taste of the fruit directly.

In swift motions, he moves his jacket from your legs, shoving your skirt up and letting it fall over his head. Despite the awkward angle, Jisung managed to swipe the tip of his tongue against your slick cunt. The muscle parting your lips and forcing a gasp out of you.

It’s a mixture of shock and pleasure. He was shameless and that made it so hot and intoxicating, yet fear was consuming you. Forcing you to take a grasp at the back of his neck and pull him up with as much delicate force as you could muster. Like a starving kitten, parted from its mother’s tit, Jisung fetches your lips.

He looks so pretty and so stupid. So drunk and starved for you. The feeling so obvious in his hazy eyes and wet lips from your come that he has yet to lick or press against your own. You give him the latter, kissing him to satiate his need for just a bit. Biting his lower lip to calm him down.

“Don’t be so greedy, Jisung.” You scold against his lips, removing your mangled and wet tights and shoving them into your pocket. He cries like a kicked puppy but nods, getting out of the booth and helping you out knowing you’ll look like a newborn deer after his filthy handling.

Neither of you pay any mind to the cashier that takes in the payment. Weary eyes scanning you both and scoffing without questions. It’s not his first rodeo.

Drunk in a daze, Jisung doesn’t question when you give him directions. He expected it to be a hotel, one you should be staying at for work. It dawns upon him that it’s your apartment when he sees you punch in the entry code.

You’ve been so close all this time and he doesn’t knows how to take it. It’s evident in the look he gives you when you both enter the apartment and he looks around. His lips parting to question it but being shushed by your lips and hands tugging at the hem of his sweater to pull it off his body. Leaving him bare and goosebump filled before you.

“Not now…” you whisper against his chest, kissing his torso and pecks, nipping his nipple. You can talk about reality once you’re finished.

Jisung sighs but welcomes the feel of your lips and touch all over him. His own fingers unbutton your coat and cardigan, pushing them off simultaneously to make his fingers crawl to your back and unclasping your bra.

He withers and hunches over when your hands push down his pants, grasping his hard and leaking cock through his briefs. The wet spot ironically forming a heart. His Lip part, erotically to let out breathy gasps and pants. For this, you kiss him like he once did. Invading his mouth with your own tongue, holding his face in your hands, making sure he makes no effort in separating until both you feel the air escaping your bodies.

In the process, both of you manage a waltz in ridding of the remaining clothes. Kicking off any shoes and underwear, leaving each other bare in the middle of your living room. If he was given the time to admire it more, he’d tell you that it was truly what he expected of you— positively.

Instead he’s eating you alive, carnivorously gnawing at your lips in hopes to draw blood. An act that you embrace and let him do as he pleases. Simply because you’ll return the favor with as much fervor that you both will let the crimson paint itself on your lips the way your rogue has marked his skin.

When air finally did what you expected it to do, Jisung connects his forehead against yours. Both panting and drawing your bodies flush against each others. He grins seeing the little number he did against your lips, the cracks of them full like a dried up river during dry seasons. If only he knew he looked the same.

“Eat me… take your time in consuming me…” you implore, the words playing over and over in his brain as he pushes you down on the couch. Dropping to his knees without a care of what your neighbor on the bottom floor will say or if his palid knees will bruise instantly. For you, he’ll writhe in pain.

Jisung wastes no time, he separates your legs and throws them over his shoulders. His head delves in between the pretty image of your cunt and clings his lips around it fully. His lips suctioning while his tongue teases your entrance. His grasp on your inner thighs is a bit harsh but pleasurable enough that you’ll enjoy seeing the marks he’ll leave on them tomorrow.

He’s fueled more by your sweet words and the tugs at his raven hair by your fingers that curl on the locks. It feels much better when your nails scratch his scalp and for that he sucks on your clit. Incentive or reward, they’re interchangeable.

“Ah!… take your time…” you moan, head thrown back and giving him a pretty image of the expanse of your neck and the way your nipples perk. You look so heavenly that he knows it’s blasphemous. The way the overhead light shines behind your head, creating a glowing halo and he’s glad that it’s Sunday for this is his mass and holy communion. His mother should not dislike you after this.

Jisung lets his tongue roam around your cunt, savoring every crevice, picking up every single drop that spills from you. Be it that no one has ever paid such devotion to your mound, your legs begin to shake around his head. Your hands cling to his hair and pull him closer and closer to the point his nose manages to create a pleasurable pressure against your clit.

This is no problem for him. He lavishes himself in your taste and smell, moaning against you to create further sensitivity which is appreciated and you reward him by coming almost immediately when he lays his tongue flat on you to lick down and enter deep into you.

A slew of moans leave your lips but his name is the one you scream out. “Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.” Oh how well has conforming paid him off. For this he leans back on his feet, hands rubbing his thighs and teasing his own sensitive cock as he watches you writhe on the soiled couch. A lake of your come seeping into the faux leather, shimmering as its reflection on his lips, nose, and chin. How beautiful you both look.

Animalistically and greedily so, Jisung dives back in. This time pulling your body further down the couch. Leaving you limp and folded while he raises your hips and clings to them. He’s more messy and filthy about it this time around. He allows his lips to suck harshly and lick as consolation just to softly bite your clit and make you cry out masochistically.

Hypersensitivity, a force that travels in the form of your loud moans and cries. That’s what fuels him and it feels so sadistic but he indulges himself at least this once. He’s hopeful it won’t be the only time but for now he will enjoy it as it is.

He can hear you begging to please let you finish. That you don’t have it in you to last long anymore but he doesn’t relent just yet. Not when his hips buck forward and shudder with every grace of his cock against the leather of your couch. It’s so cold and harsh that it hurts but it also feels so good that he can’t help but be excited at how your soft and warm walls will soothe his dick like ointment to a wound.

That seems more exciting, yes.

All right, Jisung will please you once more. He kisses your cunt softly, long and languid velvet like kitten licks to push you further. His own rutting is much slower which proves to be a painful decision for he can’t control himself when his abdomen cramps up and painfully moans against your chest as he stands up to release all over your swollen and irritated cunt.

The feeling of his come feels like boiling water spilt on an open wound. It makes you come for the third time this night, the feeling increasing when he hums hungrily as he rubs his come in a sheer layer, ointment to your ache. The remaining that stuck to his hand, on his cock, rubbing up and down to suffer that same overstimulation at his own hands. This is his solidarity for what he’s caused you.

Tired and panting, Jisung takes a seat beside you. Caressing your face while trying to regain some stamina. You’re so spent that you lean into his touch, kissing his soiled hand and licking the saltiness off of it to savor him the way he has you.

Fuck… that’s making his dick twitch.

“Pure nectar from the forbidden fruit.” Jisung leans into your ear, kissing your cheek softly as he helps you onto his lap. You whine but ultimately allow him for there’s one more thing he can offer you and you need it.

His fingers are soft when they touch your entrance. It’s so soft and so warm, he can only imagine how sensitive you are. The image makes him moan softly against your ear. Your head resting on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around his torso. Limp yet so needy against his body. The body heat between both creates a layer of perspiration that travels from that connection onto your entire body.

Jisung rubs your back in soothing circles, leaving peppered kisses onto your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He inhales and exhales like his life depended on it, kiss after kiss after kiss.

“You’ve always been so good to me, Y/n. Do you like how I’m thanking you?” He hums, lifting your face with a finger on your chin. “Yes…” you sincerely confess in a breath, returning the favor with a slow kiss that allows your tongues to finally explore and examine each other the way you both are doing. By any form, you two will always find a way to please each other.

“And, I think I should keep going so you can fully understand how much I like you and have liked you…” he mutters in between kisses, his tongue shoving the words down your throat so you’ll digest them immediately.

You can only nod, feverishly and with a shiver down your spine when he holds your lower back, helping you up while the tip of his cock rubs slowly against your folds. You can tell it’s helping him get hard. His flaccid cock rapidly hardens with every stroke, his breathing increases and comes out shaky against your ear. It doesn’t help that you’re kissing his throat like you were back at the bar with the exception that they’re less hungry and far more passionate.

“Can I fuck you, Y/n?” He begs, eyes droopy in a plea. If it wasn’t because of how he’s holding you, you’d be sure his hands would be together in a prayer. You hum, pretending to contemplate when your answer had been decided long ago.

“I don’t know…” you tease. God only knew his abhorrence of those stupid three words. He’ll make sure to knock them out of your vocabulary if you say yes. For now, like the brat he is, he shakes and writhes, tantrum-like while his words come out in elongated whines.

“Please, Y/n…” he cries out, his grasp on you tightening slightly. You hum again but you don’t speak, basking in the pretty sounds he makes when he doesn’t get what he wants.

“You can’t feed me and then starve me… I’ll go crazy if I don’t taste you again.” He pleads, lower lip jutting out and letting his face get closer to yours. He’s so pretty like this that you can’t help but concede.

With a giggle you nod, “Very well then.” You tell him, kissing his cheek. The sweet act is gone when he lowers you down on his hard cock. You had seen it moments prior but hadn’t registered that the stretch would sting like this. It’s not bad, matter of fact it feels so fucking good… and it doesn’t help that he’s long enough that you feel him in your stomach.

“Ji…” You moan out in parts, eyelids fluttering as he bottoms out. Jisung sucks in air through his teeth when he feels your ass on his balls, squishing them and begging them to please you. That is something that he will hear out anytime.

Your voice sends him a whirlwind, “Give me your hand.” You request from him. If it wasn’t for the sheer fact that you wanted him to see and feel what he was doing to you, you’d spend more time admiring his large hands. Seeing them this way, you can understand how he made you come perfectly.

Leaning back causes you to squish his testicles further. A moan leaves his lips hungrily as he admires you through hooded lids, his head thrown over the backrest. When he feels where you placed his hand, he snaps it up, admiring the prominent budge on your stomach and how warm it felt to be in you.

“See?” You ask in the sweetest tone, smiling at him. He returns it with a nod, caressing what he’s caused. Instinctively, he bucks his hips upward, a moan erupting from both your lips due to the friction and the image. It’s like a live painting being made before him.

“So pretty…” he coos, his fingers dancing around the imprint. His thrusts increase in pace, your head rolling back in pleasure. It’s not fair that he has to do all the work; holding onto your thighs, you begin moving up and down on his shaft.

His moans get louder and his hands roam your body like undiscovered land. Landing on your breast and squeezing them. Your own hands leave your thighs to help him in kneading, yelping when his fingers take a hold of your nipples to squeeze them. “You’re doing so good, Jisungie.” You praise, each word received with a hard thrust from him and a whine, thanking you.

“My Jisungie is so big now…” you moan, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss, he holds your hips while increasing his pace. “Such big hands,” reaching for one, you kiss his palm before letting it fall to its initial spot.

“Such big pretty lips…” Your teeth nip his lower lip, reopening the cut from your earlier‘s cannibalistic game. “The most beautiful big eyes.” And with a drop of his blood on your lip, you kiss his eyelid. Eyelashes flutter upon feeling your warm moist flesh.

You attempt to sound just as tempting and sultry, but his thrusts along your hips hopping on his dick— your words leave out in broken moans and cries.

“And such a fucking big dick that will make my guts yearn for it again.”

Jisung’s eyes blow out, lips parting and licking off the blood from them. He allows himself to be vocal now. There’s no holding back when his hands grasp your ass and hold you in place. His hips move up rapidly, reaching deeper than he had previously. Your lower body stings from his handling, it doesn’t help that his testicles are slapping against you that creates an echo to play all over your living room.

You’re being fucked stupid that no coherent words attempt to leave you anymore. Anything that does are moans and cries which he swallows entirely when he grasps your jaw harshly to kiss you as messy and wettly as he did at the bar. There’s some teeth and so much tongue but neither care when the feeling of your walls molding around his cock, that they’ll forget how good his fingers initially made you feel.

He’s so swollen, you feel it with every thrust the same way he feels you grip him with no intention of letting go until you both get what you want. It’s such a perfect fit that makes his abdomen ache. He’s so ready and so are you.

“Finish… please, finish.” He begs, hips move messily and mindlessly. He’s so ready to be done but he needs you to come first. It’s not until he shifts and brings you closer that his mouth wraps around your tit. Hungrily kissing it like a starved animal. His teeth take no mercy in biting the skin around and your nipple, leaving indentations of his pretty teeth. At least you’ll have his smile engraved on you.

He continues on the second one, your nipples so hard that they ache from his sucking and biting. And when he feels the needs to insert two fingers in you while he fucks desperately with squelches imploring you both to finish, you can’t help but clamp around him with a loud moan erupting from your lips and coming around him. Fingers and cock.

Your cries don’t seize, they only increase when he himself spills within you. It’s so warm, almost hot and there’s so much that you can feel it run down the sides as he remains in you. Poor Jisung, he had been holding it for so long. Your poor little, Jisungie.

You squirm on top of him, shaking from the great orgasm. Something you hadn’t had since that one time you masturbated at nineteen. Thank you Jisung for being such a great sport.

“You know,” Jisung is the first to talk, swallowing. He was parched. “I’m so glad I waited for this.” He smiles tiredly, you giggle with a sigh but ultimately nod. “I’m sure other girls were satisfying enough.” You say, to which he shakes his head.

“No, I meant sex.” He confesses confidently until he coils in when he realizes what he’s said. Your surprised look only makes the feeling grow. “No way.”

He nods

“No way! There’s no way you fucked me this good with it being your first time!” You attempt to lean back to look at him but your body aches and it also decrees that it wants to cling to Jisung’s as much as it can so the most you muster is looking up at him.

It’s such a pretty image when you notice the bashful look on his face, crimson blush consuming his entire body. How he, out of custom, smiles and throws his head back with his index finger extended under his nose to cover his mouth. There’s your sweet Jisung.

You laugh quietly, hand going up to caress his hair. “So cute… you’ll always be my cute Jisungie.” The statement is received with a groan but ultimately, Jisung relents. Kissing you once more, refined and sweetly. He understand what you mean and he also understands that you mean it differently now. Therefore, he won’t dwell on it. Sure, you’ll always look at him in such a sweet image but now with the addition that he has proven to you how much he’s grown… as a man.

[injunism]

— 01:29AM

cw. age gap, creampie.

jisung had been crushing on your since you both were kids. well, more like him being the kid, and you being a teenager. you’re 5 years older than him. if you think about it, it is kind of weird for a 12 year old to have a crush on a 17 year old.

the first time jisung laid his eyes on you, you were over at his house, on the couch of the living room, giggling with his older sister.

“is that your brother?” he heard you ask his sister. he found your voice so soft and sweet, the total opposite of his sister’s.

“yeah! sung come here and say hi,” she waved for jisung to walk over so you could take a better look at him.

it was love at first sight for jisung. you looked so different from the girls in his class. the way your hair falls when you brush them out of your face. the perfect smile you flashed at him when you introduced yourself, the soft pat on his head when you called him cute.

jisung thought his crush on you would be over after awhile, but it didn’t. he found himself wanting to be stuck around you 24/7 when you were over. when his sister held sleepovers, he always slept beside you, all cuddly on the king size bed with you slotted in between the two sibling. not that you minded, in your eyes, he’s just your best friend’s younger brother.

“sung get out! it’s supposed to be a girls night.”

you laughed, telling her it’s alright to have her younger brother in the room (again). jisung’s heart bloomed when you pulled him into your embrace, having him sat on top of your lap.

“you’ve gotta stop babying him all the time,” she rolled her eyes, glaring at jisung, “this is the last. time. you hear me?!”

when jisung reached the age of 16, he realised that it was no longer a simple crush. during his sister’s 21st birthday, their parents were out, which lead up to her throwing a house party. she allowed jisung to invite a couple of his friends over so he wouldn’t feel alone.

on that very day, jisung and his friends stayed in his room all night. he only saw you once, when you peeked into through the door of his room to say hi.

“fuck! i lost again,” jisung’s friend—jeno, cursed as he threw the controller on the ground lightly, “the game is fucking rigged.”

“i won jisung earlier so i’ll just say that you suck at the game,” haechan, another one of jisung’s friend chuckled, taking a gulp out of the giant coke bottle on the floor.

“whatever, i’m gonna go grab some snacks from the kitchen. y’all want anything?” jisung got up, dusting his pants.

“anything’s fine.”

“ice cream.”

as jisung turned around the end of the stairs, he was faced with your back leaning against the kitchen counter, with a guy chatting you up. jisung might be 16 but he’s not stupid. he saw the way the older guy eyed your body. jisung doesn’t know if he was being possessive over you or if he was just jealous, could be both. but he couldn’t do anything about it. he quickly rummaged through the fridge for ice cream. the sound of that might’ve been louder than the songs being played on the speaker, because you noticed his presence.

“ji!” you called out. he pretends not to hear you, with a tub of ice cream in his hand, he went back upstairs after shutting the door of the fridge with his foot.

“who’s he?” the guy in front of you questioned as he watched the kid disappear up the steps.

“birthday girl’s younger brother,” you answered.

jisung’s 18 when his body went through his second growth spurt. many girls fawn over him. he had grown much taller than before, his features are more defined now, and his muscles are super obvious too. not that you realised, you’re practically with him the entire time his body went through changes.

for some reason his sex hormones are shooting out the roof after turning 18. jisung had spent plenty of nights jerking off to dirty thoughts of you, to the point where he doesn’t know if he’s capable of holding himself back anymore. he’s not even slightly interested in the girls that practically throws themselves at him.

through multiple years of having a one sided crush on his older sister’s friend, he no longer knows what to do about it.

currently jisung is in his room, playing computer games with his friends.

“left! on the left!” jisung flinches when he hears haechan’s loud screams through his headset.

“fucking hell.” jeno utters, spamming the keys.

all three of them groan when the screen announces their loss. before jisung could say something about their last play, his door swings open as you walk into his room, flopping down on his bed. jisung takes his headset off, leaving it on the table.

“i’m bored ji,” you lay down on your side to face him when he turns his gaming chair to face you, “your sister went grocery shopping with her boyfriend.”

he hums, “why didn’t you tag along?” he doesn’t even care about his sister or her boyfriend, whatever it is, not when you’re on his bed with the tightest tank top and the shortest shorts he’s seen in his entire life. you’re not even wearing a bra. thats how comfortable you are with him. he bets you don’t even see him as a man.

“don’t wanna be a thirdwheel,” you sigh, but it came out sounding like a soft moan. jisung’s body tenses up seeing you flip over on his bed, your ass on display for him to gawk at. no way in hell you’re this naive he thought to himself.

he can feel himself getting harder underneath his sweats. “y-y/n, i just remembered that i have something important to work on, and i kind of need my privacy.. to focus.” jisung didn’t sound convincing at all, you quickly got up and sat on his lap, which causes jisung to bite on his bottom lip. it has become a normal thing for you to sit on jisung’s lap. the first time consisted of you telling him it was normal since he always sat on your lap when he was a child. you didn’t take it weirdly when you were sat comfortably on his lap.

“what’s so important?” you turn the chair to face his pc.

jisung grunts when you shift your ass closer to his crotch. he didn’t mean to stare down at your ass but, as a man, he couldn’t control himself. his heart starts to beat faster and he can feel his boner sticking uncomfortably on his sweats.

“ji is your phone in your pocket or something?” you ask, hands moving behind to grab his phone but you pull back when you realise that it’s something else.

“shit- sorry,” you quickly got up from his lap, excusing yourself, wondering why he had a hard on, “i think your sister might be back soon so i’ll wait for her downstairs.” you try to not sound too nervous, because why in the world would you be nervous and flustered?

your hands are already turning the doorknob, but before you could step out of him room, jisung slams the door shut. his tall figure hovering behind you, your back facing him.

“noona, i- i need you.” he admits as he grinds his cock against your ass, hands gripping your hips so tightly.

you gasp at the feeling of him rubbing his hard length on your core through your underwear. “fuck- ji.. we- we can’t do this, it’s w-wrong.”

“just once.. wanna feel you, please.”

you feel jisung’s hot breath hitting your neck, moments later he’s sucking and licking on your shoulders, nape, up to your ear.

you know you shouldn’t. you know. but you can’t help it. you know you’ll never be able to see your best friend without feeling guilty anymore, for wanting to fuck her younger brother. the little boy that you took care of all these years, grew up to be so.. alluring.

you whimper when jisung pushes your panties to the side, “wait ji- you’re gonna regret—”

he cuts you off, “no. wanted you for so long, wanted to fuck you since forever, wanted you all to myself, but of course you’d never see me that way, not back then, not now, and probably not ever. i’ll always be a little brother in your eyes. isn’t that right? i’m going to fuck you now, i’m going to make sure you’ll never forget it.. forget this. shit— never forget me, gonna ruin you for all the other guys out there, you’re mine. you’re mine noona, you hear me?”

his words are so intoxicating, so dirty, you wonder where he learnt how to talk like that. your breath gets slammed out of your lungs when he plunges into you, hard.

“fuck! ji!” you slap your palm over your mouth, trying your best to contain your noises. afraid of your best friend coming back early, and hearing your back being blown out by her younger brother.

“let me hear you noona.. let me hear how good im making you feel.”

to be honest, it’s impossible to not make a sound, not with the way he’s fucking into you. so good, so fucking good.

“pussy made for me, you’re made for me.. aren’t you?”

you nod, “y-yes.. yours, only yours ji.”

“shit- taking me in so well, fucking love you.”

jisung feels the way your walls flutter around him, “close?”

you nod again.

“cum for me.”

and you did.

so did jisung, painting your walls white.

you shiver, feeling full and warm.

—

“we’re home!!” your best friend announces when she walks through the front door with her boyfriend behind her, “y’all having that bonding time or something?” she says, noticing you and jisung by the counter.

“yeah.” you smile at her, thighs twitching as you sense jisung’s cum leaking out of your hole.

thankful that he allowed you to put on your underwear at the very least.

—

bonus

“holy shit. he really fucked her.” haechan chuckles in shock.

“didn’t know he had it in him,” jeno says, jaw dropping.

“i think i’m hard.”

“you think?” jeno laughs light heartedly, switching his tab to incognito mode.

[injunism]

slut me out | njm x fem!reader

i.e you needed to give your situationship the time of his life after seeing his instagram story.

word count: 2.8k (not proof read)

content warning: situationship, open ending, smut lol, oral (m. rec.), fingering (f. rec.), explicit sex, unprotected sex(no!), creampie, lmk if i missed anything thanks!

author's note: two fics in one day! can we believe this LOL. would you guys be surprised if i said that i have a mark one that i'm hoping to finish and it'll be queued up for tomorrow morning/afternoon. i hope you all enjoy this fic and as always, dedicated to my crazy and delusional bffs. likes & reblogs are appreciated as always. requests are open till october 5th! i'm still working on my jay fic, and hoping to have that out by tuesday!!

“you’re fucking crazy,” you said once the phone picked up after the first ring, “you can delete that story, i saw it.”

jaemin let out a hearty laugh, “hmm? but jisungie looks so cute, what if one of my followers wants me to put them on with him?”

you jeer, fingering hovering over the red button on the screen, “you definitely could’ve posted him without making sure your shirt is unbuttoned and they can see the chain that i bought you peeking through. what if they’re crazy like me?”

“don’t worry, nobody has you beat in that department.” jaemin added quickly, “you can come over if you want.”

did you want to? absolutely. you needed to rock his world so hard that it was likely to be rated a category 9.5 earthquake.

“you can come to me,” you quipped back, “and hurry up, i dont have a lot of patience. don’t change either.”

“you’re so demanding,” jaemin whined, a glint of playfulness evident in his voice, “i have to stop at my other hoe’s house first, but i’ll be there.”

“not even funny.” you hung up the phone, rolling your eyes.

focusing back on your room, you jumped up in a panic. you needed to change and also pick up the clothes you had thrown all over the place.

realistically, you didn’t know if jaemin was kidding about seeing somebody else first, but if he wasn’t, you had about twenty minutes including traffic before he got to your place.

you shoved all the loose piece of clothing into whatever drawer or laundry basket they would fit into. doing a once over your room, you were satisfied with what you were able to do.

looking at your floor length mirror, you didn’t care too much about what you had on. a big t-shirt with snoopy playing baseball on the front.

easy access for jaemin, but you should probably change your dingy halloween panties from victoria secret into something cute.

perhaps pink? that seemed on brand for tonight’s theme.

you were digging through your underwear drawer looking for that lacey pink thong you got from the mall a few weeks ago when you heard a knock on your door.

“fuck,” you said, slamming the drawer shut to no avail and rubbing your hands down your hair to smooth out any frizz, “fuck.”

the knocking got louder, causing you to practically trip on air as you ran to grab the door.

“took your sweet time letting me in,” jaemin pouted. leaning against the doorframe when you opened it, “that mad at me?”

rolling your eyes, you pulled him in by his silky pajama shirt and closing the door behind him, “guess she wasn’t that good if you got here within the same hour of calling.”

jaemin smiled, dropping down onto your couch and sliding his shoes off, “i’d say she was pretty damn good if i got done quickly and i’m not here.”

you crossed your arms, scoffing at his comment and began to walk to your bedroom.

“you’re such a dick.”

“i heard that,” he said, jumping off the couch to chase behind you, “i'm just kidding y/n, you know it's just you."

"are you sure? cause you keep making comments about other girls, are you trynna compensate? i don't care if you see other people."

jaemin laughed at you for the nth time this evening, making you want to just slam your bedroom door in his face and lock him out, but unfortunately for you, seeing jaemin in those pink pajamas and gold chain sent you into borderline ovulation.

you grabbed jaemin by the arm, leading him to sit on your bed and standing between his legs.

"it's just you," jaemin reassured, a hand coming up to rub your hip gently, "just like driving you crazy 'cause i know you're really fucking insane."

jaemin got a whiff of your secret cloud perfume as you leaned down and kissed his neck gently.

"i'm going to turn you every way but loose tonight," you whispered into his ear, teeth grazing the shell of his ear, "and i'm gonna show you how insane i am over you."

a shiver went down jaemin's back as you kissed down his neck and to his adam's apple, making sure to suck dark marks into his skin before placing your lips on his.

his arms wrapped your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he deepened the kiss. your hands found their way entangled into his brunette locks, moaning as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

the two of you fought for dominance over the kiss, though jaemin just wanted to put up a good fight before letting you win.

you then slipped your tongue into his mouth, removing your hands from his hair and moving them down to his shoulders.

you gently pushed him back and onto the mattress, letting your fingers skillfully undo his pajama shirt, enjoying the smooth silk under your fingertips before pulling the shirt open.

jaemin pressed his hips up, hoping to get a small bit of friction on his growing erection and moaning when you rut your own hips down.

pulling away from the kiss, your chest heaved as you did a lookover his body. his plush lips swollen and glossy with spit, dark splots decorating his skin from earlier, his own defined chest moving rapidly as he tried to catch his own breath.

"you look so pretty under me, jaem," you complimented, your fingers dancing across his exposed collarbones and down his gold chain, "a sight only i should be allowed to see."

jaemin exhaled heavily through his nose, "a sight only for you. . please, don't stop. i want you. . i need you so badly, y/n."

how could you deny such a request from a pretty boy completely at your disposal? you weren't a cruel or dumb woman, so of course you'll comply.

you leaned down to attach your lips to his collarbone, biting and sucking gently as you made your way down his chest.

moving the pink fabric away, you let your tongue teasingly flick at his nipple to elicit a whiny moan from his mouth before taking his nipple between your lips.

"fuck y/n," he groaned, "that feels so good."

smirking to yourself, you pull off and stand up. the boy's eyes widened, trying to hold back another whine because why did you pull off? and why are you standing?

"c'mon," jaemin said, voice cracking slightly, "don't be a tease."

"a tease?" you titled your head as he sat up on his elbows, "if you beg, i'll consider."

a bright red hue cascaded over jaemin's face at your request, but he couldn't get any more pathetic than he already looked.

"y/n," he pleaded, "please do something. i am so undeniably hard, and if i don't feel those pretty lips or pretty hands wrapped around my dick that i know you love, i will implode and you'll be out of a bomb dick appointment and home."

a laugh escaped, jaemin really knew what to say to make you give into him. it's why you liked him honestly. he was funny and charming, and did in fact have a great dick that drove you insane. you used to be normal before he stuck his dick in you.

jaemin reached forward, grabbing your hand and placing it over his boner. that action alone could've made you cum in your panties because pathetic jaemin was probably your favorite jaemin.

you instinctively wrapped your fingers around it the best you could while it was restrained in those silky pants, slowly jerking him off and watching a bead of precum stain the fabric.

"see how hard i am?" he asked, breathily, "all for you. all because of you."

stroking your ego was one of the many things jaemin was good at, so you decided to play nicely and give him something to relief this tension you could feel growing in his body.

"take 'em off," you said, releasing his cock from your grip, moving back to give him room, "show me that pretty dick, jaem."

if you weren't standing in front of him, you were sure he would've fell face forward onto your carpet from how fast he was trying to get his pants down and off his hips.

once they were at his thighs, you leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before sinking down to your knees.

you were face to face with jaemin's cock, the tip an angry shade of red and precum still leaking from his slit.

spit began to pool inside your mouth the longer you looked at it, and you stuck your tongue out to swipe the precum dribbling from his cock.

jaemin moaned out, hands gripping the sheets beneath him, “stop. . put it in your mouth.”

you furrowed your eyebrows and looked up, “don’t make demands.”

the brunette’s jaw ticked, one hand coming up to your hair and the other grabbing the base of his dick.

he pushed your head back roughly, tapping the head of his cock on your lips and smearing more precum across, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

your eyes widened in surprise at the switch in jaemin's demeanor, but instead of giving him a hard time, you complied by opening your mouth for him.

without hesitation, jaemin shoved his cock into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat which caused you to gag and tears well up in your eyes.

"don't get sensitive now," he mumbled, swiping the tears from your face, "now be good and suck. show me why you're my favorite."

his favorite? you should been his fuckin' only like he said you were earlier. what is up with the inconsistency? he's gonna piss you off.

you used your tongue to lick the under part of his cock, pulling off to leave just the tip in your mouth.

jaemin's grip on your hair tightened, trying his best to let you have control, but wanting nothing more than to just fuck your throat until you're sobbing.

you pulled completely off his cock, bringing your hand to jerk him off while you used your tongue to lick a stripe on his balls and gently suck.

the brunette's eyes rolled back, a string of moans and high pitched whines leaving his throat as you continued to toy with his balls.

whenever your hand reached the tip, you would squeeze every so slightly, causing him to fuck into your hand.

jaemin was close, and you could tell by the way he was whimpering and trying to chase your hand.

you looked up at him, smiling to yourself before pulling off his dick completely, basking in his borderline sob at the loss of contact.

"why did you stop?" tears welled up in his eyes, feeling like he would explode, "you're so fuckin' mean."

cooing, you wiped tears away from his eyes like he did earlier, "cause i knew you were close, jaem."

he sniffled, grabbing you and pinning you down onto the bed in one swift motion.

sometimes, you forget how strong he can be, causing you to get even more wet if that was possible. your panties were sticking almost uncomfortably to your cunt, and you were hoping he would do something to relief that soon.

too lost in your own thoughts of pleasure, you didn't even realize jaemin was pulling your t-shirt up until the cool air hit your nipples.

he used his lithe digits to roll your perked nipples around, causing you to squeal at the contact.

"love the panties," jaemin teased, using one of his hands to snap the waistband against your skin, "so cute and so soaked. god, you really get off from anything as long as it's me, huh?"

"you fuckin' wish," you tried to bite, but it came out as a whimper when he pressed his hand against your core, allowing for some friction of pleasure.

"shhh," he said, "can't even muster an ounce of niceness when i'm about to fuck you?"

jaemin flicked your nipples, smirking at your almost pained moan before moving down to take your underwear off, eyes watching how they were sticking to your sopping cunt, "so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded your head in compliance this time, "all for you."

he swiped a finger up your slit, bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean, "taste so sweet, but act so so mean towards nana, wonder why that is?"

you huffed, hooking a heel behind his thigh and pulling him close so his cock would make some contact with your cunt, a noise escaping your throat when the tip came into rough contact with your clit.

"that needy? what was it you said earlier? beg. beg for it, dumb whore."

degrading was something you and jaemin never tried, but with how effortlessly it slipped out of his mouth, you wish he would've done it sooner.

"jaem," you grinded against his cock, "please fuck me, y'know you want to. please, i need it so badly."

jaemin just looked at you unimpressed, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, looking at how you falter when his tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves, "beg more."

you wanted to burst into tears, he knows how much you want him, he can feel how wet you are and probably at more slickness slipping out as he teased you, "nana, please put it in. i'll stop being mean, promise. i need your cock--i need you. please fuck me."

his left hand came up to smooth your hair out, smiling all his pearls at you as he slowly pushed the fat tip of his cock into you, finally.

jaemin slowly pushed himself into your cunt, moaning at how easily you took his cock, letting his hand fall from your hair and place pressure on your clit.

"it's like you were made for me, fuck" he gritted his teeth, thrusting shallowly into you, "taking me so well every time, your cunt just fuckin' sucks me in.. ha."

all you could do was moan in response, eyes rolling back when jaemin's gold chain smacked you in the nose, "fuck, too good."

jaemin rubbed your clit roughly as he picked his pace up, hips snapping against yours as your arousal ran down your thighs and his balls, creating a wet sound between the two of you.

you clenched around jaemin's cock, letting out high pitched noises of pleasure as he fucked you harshly, the knot in your stomach tightening and traveling down your pelvis.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" you cried, placing your hand on his lower abdomen and trying to push him away, but he quickly snatched it and held it above your head, "jaem, fuck, please, it's too much."

jaemin ignored your pleas, "y'know you can take it, stop trying to run from it."

when jaemin snapped his hips harshly once more, you felt that knot in your stomach break and ecstasy overtake your senses.

you couldn't even muster the feeling of embarassment from how good you felt when liquid practically sprayed your thighs and jaemin's abdomen.

the boy tapped the head of his cock on your clit, groaning loudly as you continued to squirt before roughly showing himself back into you.

"jaemin," you squealed, back arching up, "i can't! i can't."

"you can," he said, fucking you harshly, feeling himself getting closer and closer, "and you will take this dick. you wanna whine about other people havin' it so bad, take it, slut."

with jaemin fucking you so soon after an intense orgasm, all you could do was sob and mumble his name. it wasn't going to take you long to cum again, and jaemin could tell about how you were clenching on his dick.

your fingers dug into his shoulders, creating red crescents as his chain smacked you over and over again, his orgasm approaching any second.

"i'm so close, angel." he whined, his thrusts starting to stutter and slow down, "fuck, can i come inside please?"

"o-of course," you nodded your head, your own orgasm approaching once more, "please cum in me."

one more snap of jaemin's hips and he let out a loud moan, stilling himself as white hot ropes of his cum began to fill you and create a creamy ring around his cock, "fuck, you were too good."

he began to thrust slowly to ride out your orgasms, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

once you pushed his chest away to let him know he was overstimulating you, he pulled out completely and laid next to you, chest heaving rapidly.

"y/n." he turned on his side, "i really do like you."

you smiled, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers, "i really like you too jaemin."

he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and pulled you closer to him, "it's always been just you."

end!

[injunism]

it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l

→husband!mark lee x f!reader | ft. jaehyun + jungwoo

genre: smut, angst, tragic romance, miscommunication, marriage au, 2000s au

synopsis: 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.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm denial, cum swallowing, jealousy, toxic relationship/love, insecurity, vomiting, work field harassment, mental health deteriorating, self sabotage, smoking, mentions of poor eating habits/self care, pregnancy, mark is a horrible husband. this is for the people who only know toxic and bad relationships, woohoo (...)

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: it's been a year since I last updated the happy together series, I guess I lied when I said the stupid girl incident wouldn't happen with this one but hey it's finally over! this is an epilogue for happy together but can be read as it’s own part. yn’s character here isn’t the same as happy together, this is a completely different yn!! fun fact I came up with this before happy together lol

‘No one wants to think about it. About how your love may run out or hang by a thread because it’s that big, not able to be supported by one person alone. To even have the fleeting negative thought race in your mind. No one wants that.’ — April 25, 2004.

Life was sweet, it was a new romance never felt before (at least in your case). The type to make your heart swell at any sweet action. He was tender, sweet, and attentive. Whatever you asked of him, he’d have for you, ready and in your hands. Mark used to go out of his way for you but slowly the small things became a burden and any little task, he never wanted to do anymore.

Even so, now as you sit on your knees in between his legs, hearing his grunts from the pleasure he is enduring, you put off your own pleasure for his as long as the satisfaction of him feeling loved continues.

With his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark held onto the messy comforter while you kept going. Your nose hitting his pubic bone, staying still for seconds just so he could feel the warmth of your throat around him.

At that feeling Mark allowed a disgruntled moan, loud and perfect. His hips buckle forward, causing you to gag. Tearing up and finger nails softly claw his thighs. That’s the most damage you allowed yourself to cause him. His hand wraps around your hair, the sting of his pulling mirroring the one of your clawing, he was relentless unlike you.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so good, fuck!” He groans, eyes tightly shut. “I love when you gag around me, it feels so good. As if your throat still hasn’t gotten used to me after all these years, pretty girl.”

Raking your nails on the lower back of his thighs, he hisses. With his hands holding onto your head, his thrusts get harder— almost as a counter attack.

The hand you had on his thigh comes in contact with his balls, pinching them where he likes. Playing with and twirling them. Mark’s thrusts become slow but harder, hitting the back of your throat more painful, nothing you wouldn’t take unwillingly, though. He knows you can and will take anything he gives you.

That’s how you knew he was extremely close. When his thrusts were rough and slow, the grip on your hair became tighter when he pushed you further down, becoming extra sensitive to the way you handle his testicles. 

“Ah~ y/n… Please, just a bit more. Ahh…” He pants, stopping his thrusting momentarily until you pinch his scrotum, to which he whimpers loudly. Some sweat had accumulated on his neck and forehead. Glistening, he looked so beautiful, much more than he already is. Mark’s eyes were closed but he could feel your lingering gaze on him. He could feel the penetrating stare that looked at him with adoration.

When he couldn’t handle it furthermore and his thrusts against your throat were becoming sloppy, Mark’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at you, giving you one of his most tender smiles. You never got used to the way he looked at you. Even when he gave you his coldest glares, there was always a sense of adoration to them. 

So one can only imagine the warmth and giddiness you felt when he looked at you this lovingly. Lovingly enough that he removed one hand from your head and placed it on your cheek. Thumb caressing your flesh, soft strokes contradicting the ones abusing your throat.

“What I wouldn’t do to be like this with you forever.” The words contradictory and cheeky to his caring caress, almost conniving. 

Mark’s hips jolted forward, disgruntled moans left his lips but his eyes never left yours. Even after he screwed them shut momentarily from pleasure, he’d always open them to let you know how good he felt. Head thrown back, trying to regain his breath and calmness after the orgasm you had just given him. His hand strokes your head softly whilst you gaze up at him lovingly, your head resting on his thigh. 

“Morning,” your voice snaps him out of it, looking down at you with a smile. “Really good morning.” He chuckles in a breath, leaning down as much to give you a soft and tender kiss, tasting himself on you. Pulling apart, Mark stands up, helping you up from the aching position you were in. Rubbing your knees momentarily to soothe the pang. 

It didn’t take long enough to forget his care and make his path to the kitchen, you trailing behind like a lost puppy, ignoring your ache just to start the day for both of you. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Your soft voice squeaked against his ear, making him turn to you slowly. A gleam of hope on your part as always.

“What is it?” You could see his emotions coursing through, already looking for excuses as always. “Just— can you pick up an order at Cafe 7 Dream? It’s for Venetia’s pregnancy leave party but I don’t have time to pick it up. Please? During your lunch break?”

Your eyes still glimmer with hope knowing well what his answer already is. “Oh… baby, you already know I can’t. I don’t even know where it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, walking past you after giving his famous apologetic pout. 

Back to him, hopeful smile faltering, slowly closing your eyes disappointed but not surprised knowing the predicted outcome. You sigh quietly, basking in the background noise he made. Opening and closing the fridge door and pans moving around the stove top as if he truly had intentions to do something.

“I guess, yeah… it’s fine I’ll figure it out then.” Defeatedly, you make your way to him, watching him play with the knobs as if he didn’t know how a damn stove works, you only interfered when he opened the egg crate. Rushing to him you took it all off his hands, his faux complaining making you roll your eyes, him oblivious to how it wasn’t playful anymore. “Go shower, you’ll be late.” Still, your voice held no annoyance. 

He chuckles, completely oblivious to your feelings as always. “Or we could shower together…” he suggests, not over the morning rendezvous. Wanting more and more, never satiated.  

You didn’t have it in you to smile at him, shaking your head and dismissing him as you crack the eggs over the pan. He giggles, towards the bathroom, placing a playful slap to your ass on his way.

The walls were thin. You could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the water running, and your thoughts bouncing off of them. Torturing you with the words and feelings you try to repress all the time in order to live in peace and in love with him.

You loved him. More than anything, to the point it was extremely painful despite him being yours. You’ve fought hard trying to make your love for him unconditional, there was no backing out anytime.

Moments like these in which he shut down your pleas, all you could do was restrain yourself from the ill thoughts your tired brain tried to throw at him. You couldn’t let anything get in between the both of you, not even yourself. 

So instead you rather stand in front of the stove, moving the spatula around to make him his beloved sunny side up eggs. Funny enough, you hated them but if he wanted you to love them, you would.

Coming out of the bathroom, steam painting the mirrors and windows. Mark dries his hair with the towel sitting atop his shoulders, a sniffle leaves him, pulling the chair from the dining table, smiling at you with a ‘thank you’ rolling off his tongue while you set down his dishes and drink right in front of him. 

“You’re not eating?” He questions the moment you sat beside him with just a pouch of Konjac Jelly. You could only smile and shake your head, suckling on the nozzle to get out the contents. You weren’t eating then and there, you just didn’t want to tell him you were getting breakfast with your colleague on your way to work. 

Mark nodded before digging in on the yolk with his spoon, that expected smile on his face.

He talked and talked after every bite and chew. Mark was well aware of how much you liked to hear his voice, especially in the morning before he left you for work. Head resting on your palm as you watched him stack his plates, a smile plastered on your lips from his presence alone. 

“Want me to drop you off? You’re gonna have to hurry though.” The clanking of the bowls on the sink as he passed water over them knowing you’d wash them eventually; making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting dressed. 

Shaking your head as a response, he waits for your explanation. “I’m walking the entire week, don’t worry about me. Maybe I'll take the bus.”

How couldn’t he when both of your jobs were a tad bit far from home. It didn’t help that most of the time you got out late. At least he was thankful Jungwoo could drop you off whenever he wasn’t able to pick you up or simply didn’t feel like it.

“You know I don’t like it when you ride the bus, it’s always filled with… men at these hours. Take care, okay? Call me once you arrive or if something happens.”

Despite your smile of approval, what was he going to do when he can barely take care of himself?

Mark’s lips fell against yours the moment he opened the door to the apartment, towering over you for a few kisses before pulling away. “By the way, can you pick up my suit from the cleaners either later or tomorrow? I have a meeting at the end of the week.”

He was giddy asking you for a favor, clutching his backpack, ignoring the way you tried to not let your emotions show through your face. “Yeah… I’ll do it after work.” Your soft voice, trying its best to hide that tinge of bubbling vexation.

Mark smiled, a giggle leaving his throat whilst his hand caresses your cheek. “I’ll see you at night, baby.” You couldn’t answer, he had bolted towards the elevator. Only the daily bittersweet taste lingers once again.

Shutting the door behind you, your eyes immediately travel to the pile of dishes he left for you on the sink, not even allowing your sighs to escape by how familiar this scene has become. It was rather frustrating for Mark to not notice your obvious signs of unhappiness with him. He knew you loved him, perhaps more than he loved you, which he tends to ignore to not throw himself off.

But that love he thinks you have was blinding him from all the realities of how dysfunctional the relationship was. It was pitiful that his friends were the only ones to actually notice them.

“Markie, morning!” Johnny’s cheerful voice booms against his ear, hand softly patting the younger man’s shoulder as he signals to follow him and Jaehyun to the break room while handing him a cup of coffee. 

Mark returned the greeting to both of the men standing in front of him, conversing as if he didn’t see them almost daily. From joke after joke, Jaehyun’s phone beeped constantly, the other two ignoring it as he checked it with a giddy smile plastered on his face; Johnny asks if they’d like to get lunch during their break.

Mark immediately agreed to the offer, taking some of the last sips from his coffee. They spoke about restaurant options but upon Jaehyun not answering, rather typing, the blackberry keys louder than his coworkers, the two turned to ask again.

“Jaehyun, you’re down for lunch?” Johnny questions, making his way towards the trash can, depositing away his cup, the eyes on the ‘7’ icon turning to Mark. Jaehyun hums in response, putting his phone away before actually speaking. “Uh, maybe next time. I have something to do.” An apologetic smile, Johnny understanding but Mark lets out a teasing chuckle. 

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

He didn’t want to make it obvious but Jaehyun put enough emphasis on ‘your’. “She asked for a favor and I always say yes, so...” Jaehyun shrugs, sipping the last of his own coffee.

The air was shifting to hostility the more Mark’s expression began to change, slowly but surely. His eyes followed every move Jaehyun made, ignoring how all the 7’s glared at him, even his own. Johnny was no fool, if Jaehyun couldn’t feel the building hostility, Johnny was clearly feeling and seeing it. His eyes advert from both men as he watched how quickly a mood can be annihilated.

“Always? What do you mean, always?” Mark turns his back to the other two —almost to shield himself from the accusatory numbers—, throwing away his not empty cup and going to the sink to wash off the stickiness from the coffee that spilled on the sides.

The second oldest man mustered a shrug, taking a cup from the water cooler and pouring some in to get rid of that coffee taste on his tongue. Bitter coffee taste, the one lacing Mark. “I mean, I can’t say no to her… if she’s busy and can’t run an errand she asks me to run it for her and in return she bakes me a cheesecake. We all win!” Johnny smiles at Jaehyun at the mention of the desert and his unconvincing naivety.

Mark didn’t speak, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the realization that the reason you always baked was not for you or your coworkers but for his friend. For doing something you had originally asked of him. Just in the past month you had baked six cheesecakes and all of them after you asked him for a favor that he turned down. All this time he thought you were just baking for pleasure but now he knows Jaehyun helps ease your stress. Jaehyun, not Mark.

“I’m gonna head back…” Johnny’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, the elder’s eyes adverting from his two younger friends before opening the door. Jaehyun announces that he’ll follow behind, leaving Mark to his own thoughts for just a second.

One could call that the start of his demise. If anything Mark would’ve been better off knowing you did everything on your own but now he felt an unjust slight resentment that you ran to one of his friends. Guilt, if you will, for his own faults.

He didn’t let the thought go the entire day and it didn’t become better once you had arrived back home with groceries and his suit in hand. Worse off, he saw you struggle with the heavy items but he made no effort to help, rather analyzed the components in your hands. Contrary to you, upon seeing him, a warm smile spreads on your face. Putting everything down and going up to him to envelope him in an embrace and a tender kiss.

“Hi…” your breathy voice showing obvious signs of agitation. 

“Hey… why are you so late?” He questions, accusatory for something he’s not sure what he’s looking for yet; a minute frown as he looks through the contents of your grocery totes. Cream cheese, graham cracker, sweet condensed milk… a pit in his stomach formed, a growing feeling of confusion followed.

“Another cheesecake?” He questions, taking out the items and starting to put them away. To say you were taken aback was an understatement, your chest swole and you felt some relief seeing he was actually helping. You nod, holding onto the back of a chair to catch yourself. Mark hums, turning to look at you. Upon seeing how sunken and dull you were looking, his expression turned to one of concern.

“Have you eaten?” Mark asks, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. “Yeah! We had a dinner party for Venetia’s leave.” ‘I told you about it..’ you want to add. No matter, you knew it was futile with how he hums in response. It was true about the dinner part but you hadn’t eaten there, Jungwoo and you had decided to blow it off and go to a soup bowl restaurant instead.

He hums again, putting away all the other groceries and leaving just the cheesecake items. “Seventh cheesecake this month isn’t it?” 

His piqued interest sounded hostile and cold, eradicating any sense of relief that he cared. “Yeah, why not?” Responding with a smile and knitted eyebrows, Mark didn’t add more. In turn, he took his items from the living room to the bedroom, opting to continue working there. 

Looking at the empty spot he left, a sigh left your lips before continuing to fulfill your part of the deal with Jaehyun. You didn’t know if the sigh was from relief or grief. Regardless, his care was too good to be true. 

The next morning he had woken to your spot on the bed empty and cold, a building resentment and loneliness starts to grow when times before he didn’t feel them. Odd. 

Giving himself a few minutes of rest time until he decided to get up and do his daily routine. By the time he had reached the table, his breakfast was covered to keep the warmth in, glowering when he noticed it was slightly warm but getting cold. A note on the side of his dishes. 

‘Decided to head early. Sorry in advance if the food gets cold. Love, y/n’

A small heart next to your name, Mark smiles to himself. As he ate his breakfast, his concerns and the slight jealousy he had gained overnight dissipated. He felt foolish for questioning your relationship with Jaehyun. What was there for him to be jealous of? Hell, Jaehyun was taking care of the burdens he didn’t want to, that’s a win-win situation, no? Jaehyun gets his treat, you remain content, and he isn’t bothered. Yeah, he can now think clearly and see that’s fair. Nothing ever comes out of your close friend being nice and considerate of your wife, right? 

Hmm…

Nevertheless, Mark shakes his head with a goofy content smile whilst he drops his dishes in the sink, passing cold water over them. You picked up his suit yesterday and today it was hanging, freshly steamed furthermore. His shoes clean and shiny by the door, food you cooked for him in his system, and overall a lovely note you wrote him. Mark knows you love him and only him, what a stupid little preoccupation yesterday was.

“Dumbass.” He chuckles to himself, squeezing a plushie he had gotten you that ever since, you left on the bed, your smell on it; you’d always be near him and oh how he loved that security. Surely he has to let you know how he adores your love.

Walking towards your desk to look for whatever piece of paper, he sat on your chair, opening the drawers and searching for at least a sticky note.

Upon finding the nearest notebook, Mark pulled it out along a pen. Opening it to where he could find a clean page; he stumbled on multiple pages of frantic writing and numbers written all over. Sometimes they went down and sometimes they went up, if the number was higher than last, a large ‘x’ crossed it in red. He didn’t think much of it, maybe something to do with work statistics?

Curiosity still got the best of him, he’s never seen you write messily. Everything you’ve written has been tidy and neat, so this was interesting. Flipping through the pages, he found two lists. They read the same thing but the one on the left had more x’s whilst the one on the right had check marks, sometimes nothing.

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

Those were all things you had asked him to do and things he had told you he couldn’t do on account of all the excuses he made. All striked through, ink bolder and fresher the more recent the task was. All those crosses were for him and he figured all the check marks were for Jaehyun.

Some of the stuff seemed too intimate for Jaehyun to do for you. Picking up the cleaners? Fix the leak? Find a car inspector?

Jaehyun had no responsibility to find any of this stuff for you but there he was doing what Mark couldn’t and that jealousy he felt yesterday was back again. That meant you hadn’t picked up his suit yesterday, right? It was Jaehyun who had done so and his grubby hands must’ve left oils for you to steam it again?

God, no… he was being irrational again!

The more he flipped through the pages, Mark read the small and longer paragraphs. Most of them written frantically and showed obvious frustration. It seemed to be completely full of vent paragraphs. You wrote down your desperations and thoughts, often seeming angry and saddened. He cared for all that but they became unreadable the more upset you became as you went on. 

Few things that made his head pound and chest start to rip apart were how many times he read two names over and over: ‘Jungwoo’ and ‘Jaehyun’. You met them through him, he had brought them into your life but now he was finding that to be a mistake. 

Ironic, isn’t it? You spoke so well of them. Every paragraph regarding them was neatly written and cohesive. For the most part you were just thanking them for making your life easier.

‘Keep forgetting to look for new posts, Jungwoo has been helping but he seems kinda down when he does.’

‘Dinner coordinator keeps bringing the same catering and it’s growing tiring, seaweed treats are hell. Thank god Jungwoo took me out instead. — 03.29.08, 22:37.’

Last night’s date. You had told him you ate at the company dinner but instead went out with his friend and didn’t think to tell him, opting to lie about it. He knew you loved him but now he was questioning if the amount was just as big as he thought.

‘Wonder if Jaehyun is getting tired of these favors and cheesecakes. I don’t think he even finishes an entire one in a month and I’ve baked seven for him, I fear for his fridge. It’s not as big as I thought now that he moved. Nevertheless, thank god I can count on him to actually do these favors for me.’ 

The last part stung horribly. It didn’t seem to be a jab on him from how you wrote it but he took it as such given he always did something wrong when you asked him to just so you would stop or he’d make excuses for the same reason. He now took issue with you preferring Jaehyun’s and Jungwoo’s help over his. 

He also hadn’t told you Jaehyun moved apartments so there was no reason for you to know how big his fridge was. It stung more that neither of his friends told him about the close friendship they held with you, his wife. 

The last note on the paper is what caught his attention; ‘Lunch with Jungwoo at Cafe 7 Dream, 12:30 today.’

It’s only 08:35 in the morning as of right now; he got dressed and put away all your stuff trying his best to make it seem like he didn’t rummage through. As he buttoned up his shirt all he could think about was going to said cafe and seeing what it was all about. A part of him told him to stop being stupid, you and Jungwoo were friends too given the company you two work in, so a lunch shouldn’t be bad. But he couldn’t shake off this uncertainty.

His day went monotonously. From the moment he made his way out of the apartment, to his daily drive through the freeway with a clear view of a big ‘7,' not drinking his daily coffee with his colleagues, to now being back in the car, looking at that same ‘7’ he sees daily while he roams for a parking spot.

Whatever was playing on the radio was static and the air around him stuffy, not even the rolled down windows being able to aid him. It was around 12:53 in the afternoon when he had arrived and parked a few spots away from the vast window of the cafe. Bringing down the sun visor, fingers strumming on the steering wheel, and his lips pursed, eyes roaming the area— Mark had spotted you and his friend in the outdoor section. 

His initial jealousy wasn’t present right now, he was mostly focused on the image that had never been presented to him: you were visibly upset. Throughout your six years of being together, you always remained calm and even when he spewed vile things towards you during one-sided arguments you never cracked.

Maybe that’s why you’ve lasted this long. He could say whatever he pleased and kept off his chest while you never gave him a negative reaction. For the most part whenever you didn’t respond in the arguments he’d angrily walk out of the situation to go meet with his friends while he left you to scribble your feelings onto the journal he stumbled upon just today.

Your arms flailed, hands forming into claws that whenever you were spewing something that angered you, clung to your flesh, leaving dents on it— must have been that intense if he could see those forming. Your hair was disheveled but your clothes intact besides the pantyhose you were clawing at earlier. You didn’t look dull anymore but you did look on the brink of angry tears.

In contrast to you, Jungwoo leaned back on his metal chair, hair kept well combed, suit intact and ironed, with a shit eating grin on his face as he nodded with everything you said. His words were slow, helping Mark in reading his lips and only being able to read just that sentence: “Let it all out, you don’t deserve this.” Every time he said those words, you’d slump over the table, head resting on your hands and nodding to yourself.

The perplexed expression on Mark’s face never left. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, leaning in against his wheel as if any of that would help him listen to the conversation. It worsened when Jungwoo took a small box from his pocket, handing it to you in which you’d give him an apologetic smile for ranting to him while also being thankful.

He didn't understand where all this came from. You have always been so calm, never letting things affect you let alone smoke. Hell, you're the reason he stopped smoking but here you were doing what he used to do with his friend.

At this moment he didn’t understand why he had rushedly gotten out of his car and inside the building. All the courage he mustered to go inside dying whenever he saw the both of you stand up from the table after paying.

His heart was palpitating in horror. He couldn’t excuse why he was there this time, he told you he didn’t know where this place was so it would only worsen your already horrible mood. Not to mention, he had nothing to say. How would he start the conversation? “I know I’ve lied to you about this place but what the fuck is your deal with Jungwoo and Jaehyun? What’s your journal all about?” No, he can’t let you know he’s been snooping, let alone have you think he’s jealous.

Mark could only follow behind a group of people walking to the counter, hiding amongst them and hoping you stayed enthralled in your conversation to not notice him. At least he was thankful he could finally hear the conversation but that dissipated the moment he heard Jungwoo’s voice.

“If you keep pushing away and shutting off your frustrations with him this won’t end well. You can’t just conform to keep him with you and let him do all he’s doing. You can’t let him act the way he does and hope he changes without asking. You know what my grandma would say? If you don’t speak, God won’t hear you. And he’s not hearing you. Are you not miserable in the relationship?”

It stung. It painfully stung deeply in his heart that he truly felt he was having a heart attack right now, cardiac arrest— whichever. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Mark says, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ So which is it?” Jungwoo laughs, shrugging. “Seems God can’t make up his mind or he's fucking with us just because he can.”

Sadly for the both of you this was only the start of your demise. As for the following weeks, Mark had begun to dig deeper into this madness he was slowly learning he had created. Every time he was home alone, Mark began to read the notebook he had found. Your writing didn’t become any less incomprehensible but he was starting to learn what certain loops meant.

He wouldn’t say your writings were enjoyable, rather more concerning than anything but this is the closest he’ll get to truly knowing you. It still baffles him that after six years of being together, you were capable of hiding this much from him. The only time he could recall you actually being mad was the time both of you crossed paths with one of his childhood friends.

The atmosphere turned hostile and tense as the older male reprimanded him for not inviting them to his wedding to which Mark said he did, he even gave his mother the invitation directly to give to them. The look the two shared had made your insides churn, in that instance you wanted to cut your own chest to relieve that sting within.

You could handle a lingering look and his friends' questioning remarks whenever speaking to you, but what killed you was that it took him a week to regain his dignity after he bid him goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The words: “They long to see you.” Cascading from his lips, but Mark smiles tenderly and awkwardly.

Mark only recalls you giving him blank stares and taking a while to answer him, conversations non-existent unless he started them. But Jungwoo got to see you tear your desk down, shred paper after paper, and cry in agony at the same time that entire week, knowing well what the older man had meant, you weren’t stupid after all, he’s not the only one who’s read someone’s secret stash of letters. 

That’s the only time he thinks you’ve been mad at him or resentful enough. If only he knew how many fits Jungwoo has experienced and cleaned. But while you might not be foreign to an empty bed, Mark was. When he felt your side of the bed still neatly made and the duvet cold, a sense of fear made him shoot up. 

He had gotten home before you that day once again, trusting that Jungwoo was giving you a ride not long after he arrived like always. After a few hours of working on some data and analysis to the point of not being able to eat the dinner you had woken up early to cook for him. Mark had decided to rest for a while not thinking of taking a nap until his eyelids feel heavy and his slumber commenced.

That was around 6:43pm, now it’s midnight with no signs of you in the bedroom and if he knew anything from those six months of living with a married couple— one of the spouses was up to something.

That’s where his fear rose and his chest started to constrain his breathing. You would never do anything to hurt him, right? Mark knew you loved him. Yes, you love him, you’d never do anything of the style. You're not her.

You're not her...

Opening the bedroom door with such force; he startled you, jumping once the doorknob slammed against the wall. His fears dissipated the instance his eyes laid on your sitting figure. Crouched over your desk with a pen on hand and arm covering the pages of that same notebook. While he was relieved to see you, now he was worried of what else you could add to wreck his nerves.

“When did you get home?” His raspy voice questions. You shrug, taking his presence, closing the notebook and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. 

“Maybe an hour ago? Jungwoo got quite drunk so Jaehyun took a while to pick us up.” 

Mark knew what jealousy felt like, he’s experienced it in the most hateful way and over all these years he trusted you enough to never feel this strongly ever again but his friends were starting to test his patience. It may be subconscious and a self inflicted fear but Mark knows what friends can do. 

“You didn’t say you were going out with Jungwoo.” That pitch of irritation laced his tongue, every word getting louder the more he shook his slumber away. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. He really didn’t want to have any reaction but he can’t reap what he sows.

Mark always started like this when an argument would ensue. You could handle his vile words and reproaches but you had a presentation tomorrow and the last thing you needed was for him to treat you like shit at midnight. You’ve had enough of your supervisor for that. 

“Company dinner meeting, Mark… I told you about the presentations.” Your voice was betraying you with how whiny it came out. But could anyone blame you? You had been ecstatically talking about this for almost a month, even Johnny knew about it. It just seems the man you married couldn’t be bothered enough to remember. 

Mark tried his hardest to pick at his brain and recollect the memories of you telling him. It was of no help that you hadn’t written about it in your journal either. All he had left was to deflect. 

“You could’ve called me to pick you up, though? Why did you have to call Jaehyun?” 

“Would you have gone? You've been sound asleep the while I've been here.”

Your tone took him aback, this was the first time he could hear some attitude and mocking in your voice. He didn’t know whether to be happy that for once you spoke to him like this or angry that the mention of Jaehyun was eliciting this response, almost as if you’re defending him.

Noticing the look of confusion on his face, you retracted any possibility of continuing this ensuing argument. Just like him, you’ll avoid any further action.

“Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

He didn’t listen, just sunk his feet deeper into the tile, processing the whiplash of your actions. On the contrary, you walked past him to the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the stereo system, hoping your nightly ritual would help you not think about these happenings. Him? He’ll sulk like he is not at fault.

‘Oh, I think you’re holding the heart of mine. Squeeze it apart, that's fine…’ The melody mocks and lulls him goodnight. 

A similar situation happened days later. The days building up to that night, you hadn’t asked him for any favors. Times before he’d be glad but now he grew weary. The only outlier was that you weren’t baking, so had the rewards gone further than sweet treats? How far could you go?

No! Stop! Mark knows you’d never do anything like that, you’re not her, that’s a huge reason he fell for and married you. You ar– were perfect.

But then, why haven’t you asked anything of him yet? Was it truly futile now?

Deja vu hit, the bed was cold beside his own spot, your plushie thrown to the floor (the only difference), no sign of you, but the second he swung the door open, there you were. Sitting mindlessly on your desk, scribbling things he couldn’t see but knew he would struggle to understand later. He approached slowly, the only light source the lamp before you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is curious and soft in comparison to last time. You shrug like before, scribbling. “Nothing.” Precise yet somehow cold. No matter how much closer he got, by only a step, you shut the journal, throwing it in your drawer and turning the lamp off. He didn’t know how to take it, your actions swift and nonchalant but regardless you still made the effort to kiss him goodnight on the way to complete your night routine. 

01:48 read the stereo system. Mark hums, this night’s song mocking him again while his eyes look into the darkness and curves of your desk, directly at the drawer that held all your grievances. He contemplates it but it’s no use tonight.

‘I love him so much, it just turns to hate. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake. And someday you will ache like I ache.’ He chuckles, turning it off.

The next day was enough. You had left before him again, no reason as to why either but later he had learnt that Jaehyun had gotten into the office late with a Cafe 7 Dream drink in hand and not bought by Johnny.

He had taken your absence as an opportunity, looking at the positioning of things in your desk carefully to remember how he’d put everything back. Slowly but surely, he took the journal out, opening it to the new pages.

With the journal in hand, he steps into the kitchen, sitting on the dining table where his warm food rested. Warm enough to let him know you left not long ago. Effortlessly, he uncovers it, sliding the plates towards him and standing up to get a drink. The ice-cold water pitcher sat in front of him and he began his tasks.

‘Guilt floods me every time I ask Jaehyun and Jungwoo for favors. Is this excessive? Poor Jaehyun looks so tired, I think I have to ease it. He may claim it’s fine but how much cheesecake or danishes can someone eat without feeling the weight of burden grow as fat around his muscles?’ “What a way with words,” Mark scoffs to himself, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek, his teeth scolding him.

‘Jungwoo on the other hand is probably exhausted from my complaining. I see this as my karma for all the times I told friends to leave their bummy boyfriends. I get it now. This feeling is too strong. I can't just end it, I think… Regardless, I do need to stop with the favors, hell they’re easy so I can do them but it’s nice to not hear them complain or make excuses instantly. That’s selfish of me but I deserve some self indulgence from time to time. No… not at their expense at least...‘

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

He didn’t like that. He’s read enough for the past few weeks but nothing like this. The bummy part even less.

He won’t deny that he wished your food got stuck in his throat and suffocated him so he can drop dead with your journal in hand and true guilt arises in you when you find his body but that’s not him, that’s his jealousy and anger speaking. Maybe he was getting influenced by your entries, this is something you would say just not to him.

Mark scoffs again, sighing heavily, and pushing his chair to get out. He leaves the food uncovered and dishes dirty to complete his morning routine. Despite his anger he puts back your journal not counting on the wet back from the water pitcher but flaws are meant to happen when you’re letting frustration blind you. 

The day went in a blur from then until lunch. Snapped out of his trance by Johnny shaking his shoulder and their manager next to the taller man, Mark gave the two a fish out of the water look. One that made his manager pinch the bridge of his nose but shook it off while Johnny on the other hand gave him a questioning look. The man wasn’t stupid, he could see how distant Mark had been and at most kept to himself despite trying to act like everything is fine and bond with him and Jaehyun, but he’s not that great at covering the heart on his sleeve.

“Here, take the intern with you and ask for the lunch platter at Cafe 7 Dream, the meeting is in less than an hour and we still aren’t prepared.” The manager rushedly spoke, handing him his credit card, the gray hairs on his side seemingly growing with every word he spoke. It was a large investment meeting and he needed to secure this but he had been so careless that their hospitality was a wreck. 

Nevertheless, Mark agreed, the new intern standing behind the other two men that he hadn’t noticed her until she popped out, startling him a bit. She was young and timid, he hadn’t heard her speak but that little jump she caused him made her laugh apologetically. 

That’s the most verbal communication they had through the ride to the cafe. The radio was adamant on playing TVXQ and she enjoyed it while he focused more on the sounds the tires made and the honking from outside. Even when they arrived at the cafe they didn’t speak, if anything their expression said it all. He seemed tired and uninterested while she was indifferent with only polite smiles to her senior.

Crossing the threshold of the first doors, a familiar figure stops in front of him much to the other’s confusion when his indifference turns into a content smile. No matter how frustrated he was with what he had read, an inkling in him will always remind him of the affection he has for you. “Y/n, hi!” He exclaims, turning to you a hand reaching for your shoulder. You’re not too sure how genuine his giddiness is but in the moment for Mark, it’s the most sincere thing ever, more than you have ever been.

It’s not enough to convince you though, with your eyes flitting between him and the intern as he kisses your cheek and the other stands awkwardly behind only flashing you a quick greeting smile before looking around.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice broke the interactions, a hint of annoyance and to an extent accusatory over something that you haven’t voiced, turning to her again before looking back at him. The young girl wasn’t quite sure of how you felt but knew it was a safer bet to go order before their boss called, clenching his ass from how fast time went and he didn’t have things ready.

Clearing her throat, “I’m going to go order… The card?” She extends both hands, Mark takes out their manager’s card and hands it to her who bolts to the register. It doesn’t take Mark long to turn to you, smile slowly faltering, seeing your stare. Unsure if it’s a glare or if that’s how you look at someone when no longer adoring.

“Manager sent us to get something for a meeting.” He brings his smile back, hoping that would help. Yet, you hum and that’s all he gets. It takes a few seconds until your mouth, like a fountain, unexpectedly spouts something. “I’ve asked you to get things for me from here but you always say you don’t know where this place is.” A soft huff leaves you while forcing a smile. You can feel warmth rush from your skull down to your feet. It’s not pleasant, at all, but you can’t lose your cool right now. Not in front of him.

Perhaps if this had happened before reading your entries, Mark would have dismissed it but now he was growing knowledge of your behavioral cues and he can see your hands go behind your back, allowing your nails to cling onto your bare skin.

He musters a sigh and looks at his watch, the meeting was near. “We can talk about this later, pretty girl.” His hand reaches your arm to stop you although he makes sure to not let you know he knows about your little habit.

You shake your head, smiling up at him and going in for a kiss. “No, it’s cool, it’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later at home, okay? Okay.” You didn’t wait for a response and habits don’t die so he found it preferable to drop it. At least he’ll probably read about it in your journal soon and not have you complain in his ear.

Of course you’re not going to be in his ear when you’re on your phone frantically typing something and soon putting it to your own. Seems you’ll be blowing someone else’s ear off and it’s likely the poor loser will be Jungwoo. With every motion, flailing arm, and facial contortion– Mark knew enough of how this little thing made you feel and all he could react with was a grunt.

On weekends, by the time he began to rustle in bed and stretch, he’d be greeted with kisses and tight embraces. They often made him giggle but this weekend was much different. Once again, he woke up with the plush on the floor, a cold bed, and the window closed with only the racket outside the bedroom door. Everything was muffled but if there’s something he identified was the smell of food being made and those two laughs he’s known very well for quite a while now.

With some surprise, he jolts up. His body aches from the lack of stretching but his feet don’t care and drag him out of bed. Opening the door he’s met with Jungwoo and Jaehyun bickering about how heavy the couch was, soon to shift their attention to the movie that had been playing through broadcast TV. On the other hand he turned to look at you taking out things from a cabinet, Jungwoo rushing to help, a screwdriver in hand as he inspected the door– it creaked.

“Morning…” He greets, stretching a bit and hiding his yawn behind his arm. You make way towards him but the other two were quicker, taking his hand and continuing their greeting-shake. By the time you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, your arms around his torso in a hug like they should’ve been when he woke up. Jaehyun and Jungwoo throw each other a glance, one you both miss but that they mask with their teasing towards Mark.

“Morning? It’s nearly two.” Jaehyun begins, “Can you blame him? What does he have to do on a lovely Saturday?” Jungwoo continued but it came out rather bitter despite trying to be playful. Mark manages to laugh just like the rest of you, it doesn’t change the warning look you throw at Jungwoo who ignores it while removing the cabinet door, showing more chipped parts to it.

“Can you help me find something, then?” Mark dismisses the other two, looking directly down at you. Without hesitating you nod, walking to the room with him, your grasp on his torso not falling, rewarded with a tender smile of his. Unbeknownst to you two, the other pair give each other a glance again, although this time it lingers on each other. Disappointment and exhaustion painting itself on their features before going back to the favors.

The wooden door shut behind you two, Mark makes way to the restroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, leaving you situated on the bed and confused. “What are we looking for?” You question with some excitement as if this was a task you truly wanted when making him happy was enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” He finally speaks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair strands damp. “They’re just fixing some stuff.” You ease softly, smiling up at him as he stares at you. 

His hand perched on your shoulders, pushing you down on the mattress and met with a surprised squeaking giggle that he shut immediately with a kiss. Those same hands wrapped around your body pulling you flush against him as his tongue works against your own.

Lips became slick by the moment but he felt so much pour into that kiss. So much longing and desire. A mixture of lust and guilt and that balance may be why he felt the need to keep you here in this room with him and not out there with those vultures.

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

His hands began a journey down your body, feeling every curve until they rested on your hips. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts, teasing their entrance under. It was enough for you to gasp quietly, feeling his cold damp fingers while he kissed you, smiling into it. He swallowed every word and protest before you could even spew them. 

Your own hands on his hair, lips submissive to his. A moan when you feel his digits fully in between your legs. You shake your head but not in protest but rather of how much you needed his touch. “Say something…” He whispers against your lips, no smile on his face. “Please…” You beg, his fingers making slow circles to not hurt you but enough to get you to lubricate and use that instead.

The scene was greedy and lustful but ultimately, he was reminded of those two out there and the reason as to why they were present lingered. Was the couch and cabinet door that important that you had to call the little crew? No matter how displayed you are for him, with your hands holding onto him, lips kissing his own, and legs open for his own disposition– Mark was still aggravated.

Softly he pulled away from you, caressing your face with his free hand while his fingers went to work. “Why didn’t you ask me to help instead of them?” He tries to seem soft spoken like his caresses but those become rougher the more he speaks. “Would you have done it?” There he knew how much little faith you had on him and the scene from a while back repeats.

“I’d go to the end of the world for you, Y/n.” Mark confesses into the kiss, neither of you too sure how truthful that was. His fingers make their entrance into you, slowly moving to elicit a response. Your body ran hot, his clothed figure above you, silently begging for you to at least believe a fraction of what he said. Those pleading and mopping eyes as he pumped his ring and middle finger, increasing the pace.

You believe me like a God,

‘You’re being so cruel.’ You want to tell him, to engrave it in his brain but it instead came out as a pleased disgruntled moan, one he took as accepting his lies. Mark smiles, head tilting to the side before lowering it to begin kissing your chest. Tongue lapping on the dents your collarbones create, whispering his ailments in them to the point of flooding and creating lakes that flowed down to your perked nipples after unbuttoning your blouse. His tongue, scorching and velvet against them. Granted was a jolt and a gasp when you felt his mouth wrap around one, biting softly to soon suction on the tit.

I’ll destroy you like I am.

Teeth grace your goosebump filled skin, kissing where his teeth left razor marks. Threatening crimson to spill only to be a false alarm, lingering pain and pleasure was all that was intended to reside. His fingers slowed the pace, blunt thrusts per second that left an ache between your legs when his palm came in contact with your outer skin, but oh how good it felt when his fingers hit your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that by this point he had inserted a third finger, the stretch causing so much more need within you.

His mouth travels up the path he created after years of savoring your body. Tongue feeding the dried stream, cool when its source disappeared to carve marks on your neck. It was so juvenile but he wanted you to go out of that room with some swelling for those two to see. Eliciting another moan from you, Mark’s free hand softly comes up to your mouth, covering and sealing it with shushes against your ear.

“Do you want them to know what we’re doing?” He whispers in the same location, you shake your head fervently, feeling hazy and growing even more needy. “Good girl.” He grins, removing his hand to hold your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. His teeth gracing your lower lip, softly nipping it to soon ease the pain he’s caused with his tongue– as he always does.

His fingers kept working their magic between your legs despite the constriction of your shorts, his wedding band no longer feeling cold inside of you but the fact that he didn’t think about removing it made you feel more aroused. To feel that metal piece unite you besides legality but through flesh and body.

Mark must have felt your growing arousal, especially with how much easier it was to ease his fingers within you. The clamping of your walls, more of a clue. In this instance he wanted to be cruel, and he attempted so. His hand stopped moving, rapidly getting out of your shorts and causing a desperate groan to leave your lips, legs quivering from the abrupt halt.

Just as he was going to cause a drought to the land of your skin and mouth, your hands took a hold of his body. Wrapping around his shoulders to hold him near, causing him to stumble slightly but not to topple over you; able to hold himself up. He won’t deny that knocked the wind out of him to a degree, feeling like in any instant he could have crushed you but pride and satisfaction soon filled him.

“Please, Mark… let’s finish at least.” You beg, your voice drunk off of his touch and whiny from how long it had been since you received anything from him. “Yeah? You want that?” He questions, making fun of you with that smug grin on his face, remaining features feigning compassion. He smiles at your desperate nod, mimicking the motion when he laughs quietly, kissing you again. 

Swallowing every single one of your silent moans that he told you to keep quiet to not let those two outside know what he was doing to you. Thing is, he did want them to know, he wanted them to see how fucked you will look once he is done with you. He wants them to see how your legs spasm when trying to walk and see how marked and irritated your neck is. He’s simply making fun of you right now and you’re falling for it because you will be anything he wants. Even a fool.

His hand slowly slides off your shorts and panties, caressing your warm legs in the process. His once calloused fingers from his creative days that he left behind now soft and tender. You held his face in between your own hands, making sure he never kept too much distance between your lips, that fresh taste of mint still lingers on his tongue.

“But do you deserve it?” Mark immediately stops his caressing and kissing, the words echoing in the cavern of your mouth, you swallow them. His gaze is cold but curious, scanning your own for a response, a witty one.

In this instance he tries to remove his touch from you, your grip on him despite how his knee teases its clothed friction against your exposed and destitute clit. He had been denying you an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, depriving the other two from knowing what was going on but Mark didn’t care, he was luxuriating in this.

“You’re being so cruel.” You finally say the words that had been covering the walls of your brain and heart. Needy yet angry tears prickling the corner of your closed eyes. It wasn’t just lust but the fact that he was playing dirty when you’re so vulnerable and in dire need of getting something from him. For once.

“You think so?” His knee stops, eyebrow quirking, shit-eating grin falling. You nod, a pout forming, making things worse. ‘Did you really have to cry now?’ He asks himself, huffing as he shakes his head, pulling down his sleeping shorts.

“You jump to conclusions so quickly, it's always such a shame.” He doesn’t dare look directly at your face as he speaks this, knowing that the constraint and squeeze of your heart was showing. No, instead you’re met with the warm feeling of his spit falling off his tongue onto your cunt, some on the tip of his cock.

To be given something forced you to shut your eyes, a moan of relief enclosed within the four walls of the bedroom you shared with him. It became louder when you felt the intrusion of his dick within your walls, his mouth covering yours to drown those sounds. He likes to cherish these sounds for his own entertainment.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to him, the girth feeling foreign despite how familiar you are with every inch and crevice of his body. Slowly, he picks up the pace, raising your leg to prop it beside him. “See how things turn out when you’re patient?” He asks, searching for your eyes but they’re shut.

The most he gains are pleasured moans in the crook of his neck. Mark can’t figure out how satisfied he is with that answer, so his hand opts to slap the inside of thigh, causing you to whine but reward it with kisses to his neck.

To be fair you didn’t think this could last long. Not when you abstain from self gratification, knowing that only he can bring you to an orgasm and given it’s been a while since you two slept together, an orgasm was long overdue. The friction of his pelvis on your clit while he thrusted was not helping. Just feeling that extra sense of overstimulation while his shaft filled every nook and cranny of your cunt, feeling his length bulge in your stomach.

Holding your body to his, your face buried in his neck begging him to please let you come. The hand beneath you pushing you flush against his own body. If it wasn’t for his shirt as of now, he’d be more vocal with how well you’re both feeling his cock go in and out of you. For now he’s relying on his sweet words, worshiping how well you’re taking him.

Specifically: “Feel how perfectly you were meant for me, pretty girl?” He grabs your hand holding his shoulder, pressing it against your stomach and for some reason that makes you feel like you could come any second now, begging him silently to let you. To please grant you this one thing.

“Fuck, Mark… just give me this, please…” You cry out, eyes screwed shut, lashes wet from pained and pleasured tears. You felt it in your core, you felt how bad your body clamored for some release.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks, his own words struggling to come out unlike the pre-come lining your walls. “As much as you.” You claim, fingernails clinging to his skin, a shallow groan leaving him. He likes to know how much you need him and if you were going to the lengths of hurting him to leave your message, so be it.

With every thrust, your nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. Whether he was picking up masochism or basked in the pleasure of the sadism he inflicted, Mark felt it. He felt how he gave out before you. Spurts of come followed with desperate deep moans that you swallowed in dire need of your own release.

But he was cruel. Very fucking cruel that the second that he stopped spasming and decorating your walls, his actions halt. For a few seconds he holds his position, head on your chest trying to relax his body full of adrenaline. If he was to look at you, he knew your face would beg him for your own release.

After a minute or two he pulls away slowly, taking his shirt off and reaching for the wipes inside his night stand. He warms them with his breath, moving them around to disperse the heat, only to lay them flat between your legs to clean off anything that fell out (although not much), propping your legs up and laying some pillows behind your back so you could rest for now.

Tongue poking his cheek before sighing and turning his back to you. “That’s cruel.” He didn’t say anything furthermore, his voice harsh and cold. Locking the bathroom door behind him and leaving you sprawled on the bed, arousal immediately terminated and the only feeling was of regret for saying what you did and letting things go this far. You couldn’t cry either, the other two would probably cut you off this time for good. So you’ll deny your body from letting out its emotions again. Afterall, Mark has made you be so resilient in that aspect.

Jungwoo’s and Jaehyun’s tasks were complete by the time Mark had gotten out of the shower, lunch too. The entire time underwater he spent it beating himself for the decisions he’s made to let things go this way. A month ago he was content thinking his wife loved him despite his flaws but Jaehyun’s big mouth made him unravel slowly that he was doing more harm than building an eternal home. Mark was resentful, he’s not going to deny that. He hated how quickly theatrics and how easy things he saw as fine can fall.

It stung more that you were laughing uncontrollably with the other two, seemingly neither had anything to mention of the marks on your neck or the completely different outfit you have in comparison to the shorts and blouse from earlier. Hell, Jaehyun is sitting in his chair rubbing salt on the wound and you are not saying anything upon noticing Mark; it sucked the life out of him. A slug in a bath of salt.

“Sit, I’ll fix your plate.” You smile at him as if nothing had happened in the four walls of the bedroom, your conformity noticeable. By this point he had taken the cold seat he was unfamiliar with. Sitting across from you was not something he was accustomed to, not in his own home at least, but here he was, watching two men who actually do drop everything for you. Two men that were his friends first, cracking jokes just to make you smile and laugh at which you did, enough to hunch over, something you haven't done with him in a while. 

Mark had blocked out the conversation completely, watching your moves and theirs. Your facial expressions and where your hands landed from time to time. That deafness fell when you placed the plate before him. The presentation made it obvious that others had gotten to your food before him. The mixture of ingredients painting the canvas of his plate faster than prior times when he was the first to cut through the masterpiece of your dishes. This time it was tampered and by the looks of Jaehyun’s still neatly moved around plate, he was the one to break through first.

Throughout lunch Mark tried his best to not speak, only replying when spoken to or agreeing in some sense. Things got worse when your cell phone kept buzzing and buzzing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter that made the other two give each other a glance, this time, not gone unnoticed by him and piquing his interest further.

The incessant buzzing continues, enough that Jungwoo sighs before lolling his head to give you a weird look. “Is it that dick?”  

‘Oh?’ Mark thinks to himself, an eyebrow raising as he begins to chew slower. Your glare towards Jungwoo to hush him is futile when Jaehyun joins. “Haven’t you told him to stop bothering you after work?” He sounded angry, the type of rage Mark should have, not Jaehyun. In his mind: Jealousy and that made his feelings worse.

How selfish.

“What dick? What are you guys on about?” Mark was so annoyed and frustrated at this point that venom laced every single one of his words, spraying it as he flayed his hands. Your silence made it worse, more painful was that you did so while Jaehyun and Jungwoo took it upon themselves to explain. The two, immensely tired of you not saying anything, of not speaking up.

Jungwoo goes first, he knows, they work together for Christ’s sake. “What’s his name? Ah, whatever… Y/n’s floor colleague has been bothering her for a while, you should know.” He frustratedly shakes his head, fork digging into his plate without noticing the look Mark throws at you. “Yeah…” He mutters, eyes never leaving you, all knowing he’s lying and upset.

“You should really report him, Y/n-ie.” Jaehyun breaks through, forcing Mark’s neck to snap and look at him. He was just making things worse because all Mark could feel was his lunch rapidly collecting in his throat. Cutlery dropping from his hands.

‘Y/n-ie’?! What an insolent fuck! That’s what Mark thought of Jaehyun. How dare he use a diminutive for you? Who the fuck did he think he was? Not even he, Mark, your husband called you that. What a fucking asshole.

How selfish.

A coward too, he wouldn’t know how to react either way. Instead he revels in your words as a distraction. “My boss seems to like him a lot. The only one getting in trouble would be me.” You sigh, fork moving food around. Mark looked between you and your actions, you noticed him, that you took a few bites to make him stop.

“Why don’t you apply to where we work?” He suggests, chewing what was on his fork, now using it to point between him and Jaehyun. Foolish to not grasp yet how that would mean seeing Jaehyun more and having it rub in his face that even under the same roof you’ll run to him for favors.

You liked the idea, it was easy to notice how much you perked up at the fact that he suggested being together 24/7 no matter the different departments.

Jungwoo had other plans, “Then you’d leave me alone.” He pouts childishly. On other occasions he’d laugh too and call him cute but he doesn’t think he can see Jungwoo as fondly as before. “Move to my floor instead.” He continues to test the waters but is met with a kind giggle and shrug from you.

The afternoon transpired with finishing lunch. Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning the dishes while Jungwoo the pots. Mark on the other hand sat on the couch, eyes often stealing glances on how you interacted with the other two. If you tried to clean, they’d reject the idea and tell you to just go sit and do what Mark is doing: nothing; an obvious jab. 

Ending their visit with discussing the kick-back Johnny was hosting at his place in a few weeks. Something about the Champions or US Open? You’re not sure. You were growing more worried about Mark, that you ended up telling whoever to just text you the deets. They smiled with a nod… and a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye while waving to Mark who perked at the scene. He felt his eyes warm and heavy. Not sure if they were tears beginning to form from jealousy or insecurity. 

You throw him an acknowledging smile while making your way to the bedroom. He stood up, leaving the TV on to follow behind. Before you could open the closet door to fetch something to sleep in, you feel his arms wrap around you. There was desperation to his grab, his hold was rough. Your back hit his chest, feeling his exasperated breath on your neck. Soft kisses at first but nipping soon after to leave his name all over you again, claiming you since it seemed like the others weren’t being repelled.

“Mark?…” You call out, his hands knead your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?… Why did you keep–” ‘everything’ he wanted to say, “that from me?” 

“Come on–” you intend to plead but he’s not letting it go. “Why?!” He asks exasperatedly against your face while he leaves wet kisses on the skin, pleadingly. “I didn’t want to burden you.” You confess, a whine at the harsh grasp.

“You’re my wife! I need to know these types of things, Y/n. You can’t just keep things from me, how can we be good to– how can it be good for us?” He exclaims; angry and wailing all at once.

‘How can we be good together like this?’ He wanted to say, biting his tongue to not tell truths while sober. Mark didn’t know what it was, but it hurt. He had been thinking about this for weeks. How to ask you overall about the things you’ve hidden from him but now that he has the chance to bring it up, he can’t help but feel resentful and pained. 

Why did you trust Jaehyun and Jungwoo more than him? He’s your husband.

He expected that once married, loyalty would be granted to him no matter what, one way or another. Just like she had granted it to Donghyuck despite how flawed their marital logic was.

Sure, he made things worse but would the universe be cruel enough for him to be in Hyuck’s shoes years later? He deserved it, he knew, something at least, but that ill side of him– what he had learned from her plagues him and demands you to love him unconditionally. To do things on your own without the help of others even when he’s the one to deny you any aid, when he’s at fault.

Mark is miserable and he expects you to be so too… even more than you already are.

Misery loves company.

His hands stopped their harsh kneading, turning you around to look at him. His tired and weary eyes looked straight into yours. But while he felt resentful and confused, you felt odd. Why was he acting like he cared all of the sudden? It was strange and while you appreciated it to an extent, you also hated it.

You weren’t used to it at least, and you weren’t sure if this act would last. You don’t want to admit it but that voice hidden in the vault of your heart loathes him more than anything.

“Okay…” You nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you things more often, yeah?” 

“Please…”

You nod and he nods, pleadingly; he’s not content and neither are you. 

After that discussion, the day transpired as if nothing had happened. He had returned to the living room leaving you to do whatever while he kept his distance. Only answering with hums and nods whenever you come out of the room.

Did you mind? No, it was so normalized it didn’t make you angry anymore. You actually felt like things were back to normal and this was sufficient enough. Mark on the other hand tried everything to ignore how he felt or regulate those emotions since he wasn’t too sure who he was mad with. 

By the time he had figured he was over it, you had fallen asleep alone like all those times he did weeks prior. A warmth filled his chest at the thought. An inkling telling him to wake up before you do the following day just to leave that dissatisfaction you had left in him, not accounting with how disappointed you were with him already that it wouldn’t affect you in the slightest.

He wouldn’t do it, though. Not because he cared enough, but because he wasn’t planning on waking up early to be petty. What he will do is go back to the living room and let his fingers roam like Thing until those crumpled and messy pages sat on his lap and he laid on the couch, stereo system on.

Instantly he’s met with those familiar sharp corners and loops. Numbers, increasing and decreasing significantly. The larger ones bold from rage, the decreasing one's neatly written with smiley faces next to them. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant but he surely enjoyed the recipes you kept adding to the journal and the doodles of how they turned out. Although, he felt that they lacked so much substance.

All of these felt either welcoming or asked that he be eradicated from this earth for the way he’s breaching your privacy, acting like an over controlling strict father despite being your husband. Almost like his dad, but don’t tell him that or he’ll throw a fit. For having lived so many lives, he's surely turning into the worst version of himself.

Through more flipping to see if he missed anything, he came across some interesting notes. All which made his stomach churn and that pride he would once feel, turned to– well, some type of disgust and concern…

‘I’ll do anything for him but every day I’m going insane with tense trials. It’s fine. If I have to go insane to stay with him I will.’

Mark sighs heavily, hands covering his face to soon slide off hoping his flesh would fall with them, groaning to himself.

Fuck, he loved you. In a fucked up way he did but how much could he endure knowing things aren’t fine and dandy? Sure, his first instinct is to try and fix things but there’s also that part that won’t let him strive for any change and it’s winning.

Change hasn’t been the kindest to him in the past. Hell, it’s the reason he’s morphed into what he is now but you accept him this way. That’s what the incessant and pestering part of him told him to let things be and just act like he doesn’t know what you truly are.

He should be glad, no? To know that you love him so much that it’s killing you. Yet, he isn’t. He’s not sure why, maybe because of his deep buried true morality but he has also grown to be selfish and he wants to relish in the glory of your love until you hit a breaking point.

For once he doesn’t want to be a Bernal character and it seems this is where he is slowly breaking that pattern— albeit, he is not enjoying it either. 

Perhaps it was the hour, his growing resentment, anger, and hurt, or he was overstimulated that caused the music in the background to tremble and clog his ears the longer he kept reading. Lists upon lists of things you had to do at work followed by entries on how much longer your hours would run every instance you paid no mind to that dick that the guys described.

Countless entries of your boss calling your attention after that asshole complains. Instances in which, despite how many pictures of Mark you put up in your cubicle, he makes an effort to make them disappear any time you’re not near. On company dinners, Jungwoo and you make it your life’s mission to slither away from the crowd– to be seen but not noticed, enough to not be reprimanded when you’re miles away from danger.

‘Jungwoo mentions in passing every opening in his floor as an incentive to ask for a transfer. Going as far as getting letters of assistance to request my temporary time in the department. Hours to days, they have been great but not everything lasts. With just one foot back inside in my department, the entire mood shifts and it’s back to reality.’

Mark doesn’t understand why his chest aches every time he reads your journal. Perhaps there’s a moderate amount of empathy but he also feels hurt knowing you’re hiding so much from him.

Years worth of things and even if you don’t say it, you make it known you hate the person he is. Mark is sure that if you weren't attached to him like you are, you’d loathe him the way you loathe everyone who has wronged you. He wonders how long it will be until your love runs out and he will finally become one of them.

He shouldn’t expect it but if it happened with Donghyuck who promised to never leave him, of course it can happen with you who he has wronged just as bad as his brother, even if you do everything in your power to prove him wrong. Mark tends to bite the hand that feeds him, if he gnaws for far too long, surely there will be consequences.

03:46, a warm night in 2008… Aggravated and nauseous from making your suffering about himself, Mark dictates that it was enough meddling for the day. Tiresome and bleary-eyed, head thumping achingly with the music debilitating him; Mark stands up frustratedly to turn off Sinead O’Connor angrily screaming ‘you’re a liar’ over and over making him forget about the journal on his lap.

The vegan leather taunts him with its loud thump against the floor, screeching as he picks it up but in the process he drops some notes. “Fuck me!” He curses frantically, knowing you’ll definitely know he’s been snooping when none of these end up where you originally placed them. He starts to panic, he feels his heart race dangerously, his aching head is now spinning, flipping through pages to see where he can put these in, yet in the process he stops.

“Don’t beat yourself up because of him. I’ll always be on your corner and so will Jungwoo. I love you, y/n. – Jaehyunie ♡”

I love you, y/n… Not ‘we love you’ but ‘I. I love you’.

Mark’s blood runs cold, his eyes bulge. In that moment he feels his chest and heart compress, squeezing the life out of him.

This is what Mark’s fears came to. He worried so much about your unconditional love becoming conditional, that the universe allowed him to see the incriminating clue that told him that sooner than later that was to happen. Right?

 ‘Dinner on me today! NO buts! Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?! XOXO — Snoops XD.’

The pitch black ink taunts him, questioning how recent or how old these must be. The handwriting felt juvenile with every smooth corner and small bottoms. The top of every letter felt bubbly and messy when connecting. Jaehyun’s could still be neat when messy and for some reason that bothered Mark more.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the papers were crumpling between his shaky fingers. As shaky as his breath restraining whatever he was feeling. ‘Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?’ Mark repeats to himself that same question for a hundred more times, each making him more angry. ‘Who else but her husband? Me!’ He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. Drill it in the minds of everyone in your shared circle. He was capable of taking care of you!

But being capable doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t nor put effort into doing so.

No, Mark didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to jump into conclusions of infidelity or anything down that rabbit hole. He knew you wouldn’t do it. He wants to think that, he wants to believe it. You’re literally ruining yourself for him, so why would you do all that to throw it all away? Regardless, he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. 

He also once thought him and Hyuck would be in each other’s lives until they died. It later turned into him believing Hyuck would fade into the shadows of this earth and not ever see him because she would be his, choosing him, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was the opposite. He also didn’t become the renowned artist he was in his college years with a list full of connections that left him when he fell from grace. 

He didn’t end up thriving in the studio where he was meant to start over and is now in a dead-end design engineering job because of his father and his connections, not Mark’s. Did he know anything about it going in? He knew the word design but oh god how far can connections go if he landed something like that.

Even you, he met you because of his father, and the bells of the life he avoided for years rang incessantly letting him know no one can run from their faith. No matter how hard they try.

It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t in Hyuck’s shoes, it only mattered that he now knew how much pain Hyuck was going through seeing his wife rejoice in the care and love of men he considered friends. That and the fact that he was making your unraveling all about himself, at least they can share that too.

He couldn’t understand how you acted so peaceful and put together when during lunch he’d visit the cafes you frequented with Jungwoo and found you the same as the first time. Exasperated, vexed, and angry with a cigarette between your fingers when you two were to leave.

A chuckle on his lips remembering all the times you pestered him to quit smoking because you wanted him for many years to come. Now he’s not sure if you want to be with him as much, no matter how many times you write about it.

“You’re still a liar, you’re still a liar, you’re still a liar!”

Monday rolled around in which Mark swore to not allow Jungwoo another lunch date with you. Furthering his selfishness and restricting your moments of relief so he could take that time up. You wouldn't mind, right? It’s him after all…

It goes to say that when he stepped through the ample threshold of your floor with a cute little bag in his hand and some drinks in the other, that confusion crossed your mind before that thought was pushed back by adoration. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a warm smile. You felt like a child whose parents never showed up for any activities but this one. That childish glee and relief of knowing that you are loved. “Can’t pay my wife a visit?” Mark retaliates with a cheeky smile, leaning in to give you a short but sweet kiss.

You want to say it felt like when you first began dating. So sweet, tender, and soft. How he was before you married and his facade fell, showing how dependent he was. His small acts of love come through.

You want to believe it so bad that you’re willing to push back the tiny voice in your head trying to force you to question what he wanted out of you if he was willing to visit you this far.

“Well yeah,” You giggle in an effort to leave your desk. “Come, let’s go to the rooftop.” Your hand takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him along until that incessant blob of human flesh presents itself right in front of you both, blocking the way. 

“Well look at that. Your husband, right? Didn’t think you’d like the soft ones…” A mocking grin slapped on his face, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t much taller than Mark but he sure was confident to take a step closer to you both. Mark opts to carry all bags in one hand, twisting his wrist to hold your hand rather than you him.

You sigh, looking for ways to respond but Mark doesn’t give you time, walking around him with you in front, ignoring any calls from him to go back for a conversation. Such an insufferable man, Mark was aware but to you, this moment, you were still treating it like one of your earlier dates. His attentiveness and courage of protecting you. You missed that Mark and any resentment from marrying him faded for now.

“That’s him?” Mark breaks the silence, the walk to the rooftop consisting of him complaining from these few seconds they met. If he thought this much from only that timeframe, you wonder how long he would have lasted in your shoes. 

You responded to his complaints with nods and hums, taking a seat across from him on the bistro table. He laid back on the chair relaxed, if it wasn’t for his babbling one would think he wasn’t really affected.

“And, I mean, he’s such a dick.” He groans, sitting up straight, his roll of eyes halting upon noticing you pick at one half of the sandwich. 

Mayo wiped off, pickles on the bundle of used napkins, the turkey they touched on top of them, chunks of old avocado added to the tower. “What are you doing? Why are you picking at your food all of the sudden?” He leans against the table, elbows on the glass to be closer to you. In that instance, you stop your actions, looking at him through lashes before raising your head.

“Mark, I don't like these. I thought you knew by now…”

Fuck.

“No, yeah, I know. I’m sorry…” His hand leaves his chin, stretching it to hold yours. “Sorry, I forgot to check the order at the cafe, I didn’t want traffic to get me.” You smile at him, he smiles at you. You know he’s lying but it’s the thought that counts. “Plus, I think I came at the perfect time. Imagine I had come later and he had bothered you more?” His fingers squeeze yours, a little too hard if you say so. 

He’s received with a shrug. “He’s a dick, like you said.” You giggle softly, pulling your hand away to wipe them with another napkin. “He doesn’t react like that with Jaehyun, though. Does everything to avoid him.” Your head tilts, reassembling the sandwich to presentability. 

“Jaehyun?” You gave him that same look as when he questioned you seconds earlier, except it was softer and almost incriminating. You didn’t mean it in any form, more casually but after his findings, Mark can’t say he’s too happy with this information.

“Oh, well, when you can’t bring what I ask you to, I… sometimes ask Jae. So, they've met before…” Your gaze lowers, taking the other sandwich half onto your hands. “I think he’s scared of Jae, to be honest.” You giggle in attempts to break whatever tension you felt from your husband.

‘Jae, Jae, Jae. Christ, what a broken record.’ Mark thought, an urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his coworker. For fucks sake, he was the last thing he wanted to think about or even see. The only reason he saw him today was because of work but that should be it. He shouldn’t be hearing or thinking about his name here with you. Let alone hear it coming from you, his wife.

Stretching your hand towards him, you smile. “Here, eat the other half. These are huge on their own.” He took it, lunch soured by your incessant need to bring up Jaehyun and that dickhead from earlier.

Was this how he was paid? Making an effort to be a good husband just to have things be thrown in his face?

Lunch ended not too long after, he was on his own lunch break after all. It goes to say that his drop off and goodbye bid seemed lackluster in comparison to his greeting.

“Um, and don’t forget to file a floor change.” He gave you a tired smile and a quick kiss. It was the last thing he said to you while fixing any pictures of you two on your desk —three missing now— before heading towards the elevator. 

Like an act of a malice-meaning demon, when reaching the twelfth floor, the doors yanked themselves open like a grand introduction to a world renowned boxer or an all-show wrestler, showcasing that smug pug-faced asshole. A silent chuckle upon placing himself next to Mark who slumped against the railing and mirror walls.

Mark greeted him with a huff, head lolling similar to his eyes. The feeling got worse when he heard him blubbering, “At first I thought that the other guy was her boyfriend. You know, tall, dimples; suits her better.” He nods to himself, egging Mark’s ringing ears.

Here they went again. Bringing Jaehyun into every conversation. It’s made worse knowing that this idiot felt even Jaehyun could be your partner. That no matter how many images of Mark you display, to the world only Jae was good enough for you. Because he’s the only one who shows up.

“He seems like an actual man or that guy from the floor below. The orange haired one, a little weird but he surely goes out of his way to not let me have some fun for the day.” He laughs, snorting at his abhorrence. He turns to Mark, swallowing that disgusting lump of mucus in his throat, hand itching to come in contact with Mark’s smooth cheek. A pat of mockery. “She’s doing charity work with you.” 

Ironic, Mark would say. Ironic that he thinks you’re doing charity work with him when this idiot was never an afterthought. The older man insists on glaring at Mark, not letting their gazes drop, seeking any response from Mark even when the elevator rings, letting them know they’ve hit the garage lobby. He felt victorious feeling as if he had struck a nerve when Mark hopped off without a peep. Only for his triumph to be shut down shortly after.

“No wonder she has never mentioned you before. You’re repulsive to even think about and a sorry excuse for a man.”

A disgusted scowl replaced Mark’s poker face, glaring at the once mocking jackass whose face had sagged, shock turning into anger that he didn’t know how to express before the doors closed, making his target disappear from view.

Mark might have felt great in the moment but things could only go worse for you. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He never did. He didn’t think about how it would affect you at work and the repercussions you faced for the weeks to come. Mark hadn’t processed he was at fault until your journal became frantic, pages with holes from how hard you wrote on them. Crumpled from the anger you couldn’t express besides abusing those pages.

He didn’t notice because he was indulging amongst the side notes and words highlighted with your tears about how scared you were of losing him. Your quick remarks on how you felt him pulling away or acting odd. Imploring to whichever higher being to not take him from you if that was the case. While you’re wallowing in the pits of your sadness hoping he won’t leave you, Mark enjoys the feeling of warmth seeing your desperation.

It meant you loved him, right? With how things were going on with Jaehyun, Mark took any crumb of your love that only felt real when you wrote about it. It’s hard to understand why he didn’t feel it was real when it came from your lips but it did when you confessed to the things you’ve put yourself through for him. For him, not Jaehyun, him, Mark. That felt like love.

Right, only on paper it felt like love. Not like now that you found yourself in Johnny’s kitchen with Jaehyun next to you like a guard dog, chewing your ear off with whatever he was saying despite your look of anguish. A worrying look to Mark and the likes of his— well, your friend it seems.

He had been enjoying the final match with Johnny, Yanyang, and the other coworkers they shared. You had been sitting by his side for most of it but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago that Jaehyun pulled you aside, asking for your help to make some drinks for the rest of the guests but now he was holding you hostage, begging you to drink some water.

Mark figured the drinks you had were getting to you and Jaehyun could tell. He won’t say he’s fond of that fact. That Jaehyun knows you well to the point he can tell when you need to be cut off.

Mark tried not making it obvious but when only his head isn’t turned to the TV and the host is making sure his guests are having a good time, well it’s hard to miss. Johnny notices it too, how Jaehyun was fixing you a slider, the words: “You haven’t eaten well, stop trying to fool me.” sternly spewing from his mouth.

No mayo, no pickles, no condiments at all. Just a plain cheeseburger slider. He knew how you liked it by heart and that’s something that makes Mark’s heart pound in hate.

The feeling becomes worse when your whispering turns frantic and almost audible for the rest to hear. Your words whining like you wanted to cry about how hellish work has become after Mark’s visit. Jaehyun shakes his head, hands pressing against the counter to lean against with an angry look on his face. That infamous look of hollow cheeks and sunken dead eyes. He wanted to say something but knew it was best to be a shoulder to lean on.

“And don’t tell me to talk to him about it because what’s the use?! You know how he is. I love him, I do but—” Your hands come in contact with your forehead, shaking it a bit, “Why can’t he just be a tad bit like you?…” You hiccuped, hands slowly sliding down to your mouth as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t a sign of regret but exhaustion, vile stuck in your throat. 

Jaehyun’s face softened, standing up straight to turn to you. To some form of comfort, his hand extends to rub your back, pulling you in for a side hug while you try to hold in whatever you feel. Jaehyun understands your words come from a place of hurt but confessions like that can be taken wrongly.

“Why can’t he be just a tad bit like you?...” Just like Mark had, who now felt his heart shatter. Disillusioned and hurt, stupid for thinking that you would want him no matter what. Worse off, it was Jaehyun who you confessed that to. Someone that everyone thought was a better fit for you.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.

Johnny took it upon himself to raise the volume of the TV, sparing Mark from any more anguish and saving your business to be heard by the other guests who by the graces of God were more interested in who would win the Stanley Cup this season.

His attempts didn’t work. Mark felt his world crashing down on him in this instance. He wanted to go out and scream, cry even, at the reviving memories flashing through his head. He’s seen this before— no, he’s experienced this.

Her cries to him about Hyuck to soon commence their affair in that same instance. If that was to happen in these walls, Mark thinks it’s his time to take a leap out of Johnny’s apartment balcony.

So when you leave me, I should die. I deserve it, don’t I? I can feel it getting near.

The vile stuck in your throat had been persistent on coming out, enough to push Jaehyun out of the way to run towards Johnny’s bathroom. It’s amazing how enthralled with the game his guests were to not notice anything happening behind them. To not feel Mark’s radiating poison as he watches his wife and ‘friend’ rush towards the bathroom, door slamming behind him. If it wasn’t for Jeno’s and Yangyang’s cheering scream, they would hear you hurl the slider into the toilet bowl, crying along with self-disgust.

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore; abruptly he stands, ignoring Johnny’s sympathetic look. Not only for him but for you too, aware of Mark’s own flaws. He had thoughts of barging in and blowing Jaehyun’s ear off with his barking. Questioning you about what was going on, but he slowed down when he heard you hiccup and cry before and after vomiting. Jaehyun’s soothing hushes to you making his head spin but innocent enough.

Innocent until he opened his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, pretty girl.” Jaehyun coos into Mark’s eardrum through a megaphone to imprint the notes of his voice onto his brain. 

Pretty girl. That’s his pet name for you, Mark’s pet name. Hurt floods him when you make no effort to correct him and present this fact.

Since when have you become someone else’s pretty girl?

He couldn’t take it any longer, angrily slamming the door open to watch Jaehyun soothing you with backrubs, holding your hair as you went.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mark spits out venom, mimicking that of a cobra. His eyes widened by hot fury as he approached you two. You wanted to speak, but the invasion from your gut stopped you, tears being the only thing you were able to respond with.

Jaehyun on the other hand gives him a look as if to tell him to calm down, that everything was fine, more worried about your well being than Mark’s insecurities. “Just helping her out, calm down.”

It aggravated him how collected Jaehyun’s words were, how little mind he paid him or how you made no effort to have Jaehyun stop giving you supportive squeezes (almost like you weren’t fighting for your life).

Mark huffs, hands taking purchase on his waist watching you two, the volume to the television and the guests drawn out by your heaving. He whispers, walking towards Jaehyun with that same menacing look– eye roll worthy, Jaehyun would say.

“I just fucking heard you, she’s my wife. What the fuck are you trying to do?” His finger rose to poke at Jaehyun’s shoulder. The taller one of the two feeling offended by Mark’s accusations and thoughts that he’d snake him like that. Jaehyun was not Mark.

“Sorry, that’s on me,” Jaehyun slaps Mark’s hand away, creating some distance. “I'm just helping her—” “Back the fuck off, she’s my wife…” 

Tired enough by this facade, Jaehyun scowls at Mark, pushing past him towards the door. “Then don’t be a shitty husband and she won’t have to seek other people to do what you can’t! I know how to respect marriages well enough, if anything I’m just helping her. Something you should do for once in your fucking life.”

Jaehyun bites back, watching Mark’s face falter as he slams the door behind him while you continue your sobbing. Overwhelmed by your bodily reaction but mostly for what just ensued in this room. With no form to defend yourself and Jaehyun. Hurt that Mark thought you two would betray him like he’s done to those before you.

You believe me like a God, I’ll betray you like a man.

In that instance Mark wanted to run to Jaehyun and gouge his eyes out, rip his stupid freshly bleached hair out, and beat him until he was nothing else than liquid matter. The words rang horribly inside his head to the point he was seeing red, his vision blurred and stars were floating in his eyes.

History was repeating itself and he was finally paying his wrong doings. He thought Jungwoo and Jaehyun were his friends but Hyuck thought the same of him and now he’s found himself in this predicament.

You're sweet, you're lovely. You go out of your way to make Mark happy so it was him all along. He's the problem and karma is finally making him pay the price.

Jaehyun understood it was his fault for being careless and using pet names but can one blame him when he was worried? Someone has to if not the one who bowed to do so. Even when he’s gone from eye sight, Jaehyun’s efforts are felt through Johnny who knocks on the door. Mark opens it slightly, Johnny standing before him with a glass of water and baking soda. Telling him about how Jaehyun sent him before leaving; for you to swish your mouth with this and drink some sparkling water to soothe your stomach ache.

Mark took it without a word, nodding at Johnny before shutting the door in his face as if this wasn’t his home. You were up on your feet by the time Mark turned around, lid closed as you flushed the toilet, reaching the sink to rinse your mouth before taking the glass from his hand. No words from either of you.

He looked at you through the mirror, arms crossed and factions softening upon noticing how tired and sick you looked. Gauntly, lips and eyes puffed out, and cheeks streaked. It was best to go home after that incident, only giving Johnny an apologetic goodbye while the rest of the guests paid no mind. On your end you were out of the apartment already, embarrassment laced on your face. 

And even through the car ride, all you could think about was Mark’s words and actions. Memories of Mark smugly telling his ex-best friend words Jaehyun spat at him flooded his vision, making it dangerous for him to be driving. To his side you grunted in discomfort, feeling as if vile was to rise from you again but he paid you no mind, made no effort to comfort you, more focused on his own feelings.

The look Hyuck had on his face eight years ago was the one Mark mirrors this night. One way or another one will pay for all their sins and you were his cross.

He didn’t talk to you for the remainder of the night. Didn’t care enough to question why you fell ill or how frightened you were about the possibility that this may be it, that this was his excuse to leave you behind.

The thoughts, his actions and words clouding your mind through your shower, skin care routine, and brushing your teeth. Spending minutes upon minutes doing the latter, disgusted by yourself. Brushing away all the vile you wanted to throw at him but instead ended down Johnny’s plumbing. For only Jaehyun to hear and understand.

Mark laid down on his side by the time you came out of the bathroom. You knew he was angry, his stiff body making no effort to move even when feeling the bed sink under your knees. He tried not to move when he felt your arms wrap around him seeking comfort in his warmth, but Mark wasn’t willing to give it to you. Without a care if he hurt you, which is what he did.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Your words made his eyes open. Startled, his body hardens under your touch, almost like your upcoming tears were freezing him on the spot. Damp on his sleeping shirt but hot on his back. He turns abruptly, pushing back a bit in the process. “What are you even ta—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” You cut him off, voice raising to something he’s never heard before. “You’ve been so distant. More than usual and I can’t take it anymore!” Your palms cover your eyes, pushing back tears, forbidding you to look at that mocking grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You’re the one who grows distant when I beckon you near.

His voice on the other hand makes sure you know how he feels. “You think so? I think this is the closest I’ve been to you.” He chuckles, taking into account that look of confusion on your face as you put down your hands, resting them on your lap. “Why don’t you tell me anything, Y/n? You tell Jungwoo everything. You ask Jaehyun to do everything for you. I’m your husband, why don't you don’t you trust me enough?” 

Your confusion falls, disgust and anger replace it. “When I ask anything out of you, you never want to nor know how to do it.” Your voice was hurt, head shaking a tad with every syllable, hate laced into each one. He hated how much your reaction resembled Jaehyun’s.

He doesn’t want to admit you’re right, “You ask the most absurd of favors.” He scoffs, sitting up to be face to face with you. “Are you fucking serious? You’re a grown man who can’t cook or clean for himself. Up until I saw you at the bakery I thought you didn’t know where it was but then I saw you with another girl there.” You huff, arms flailing like when you’re with Jungwoo. 

There would be some satisfaction in him to know your true self is here talking with him but bringing old news made him groan. “I thought you said it was fine and we’d drop it there.” He takes into account the glare you’re throwing him, smoke coming out of your ears the longer neither of you speak.

If he had known a few drinks would do this to you, he would have not let you drink. The thing is, Mark pays no mind to you to not notice you’ve drank mocktails all night. He was more worried about Jaehyun than you.

“It’s not fine when you’re with some other girl to a place you keep avoiding when I ask you to go. Is it because of her? Is she the one taking my place now?” Your voice came out choppy, acheful, with the question, inhaling and exhaling to calm yourself down.

He on the other hand doesn’t take it kindly, annoyed that you’d think about him that way but that's what he’s been thinking about you, so what difference does it make? It would not be his first rodeo, so are you that insane to think of him like that?

I’ll betray you like a man.

Mark stands from the bed, crouching to eye-level with you as if you were a child he’s lecturing. “It’s not because of her, I don’t give a fuck about her! I barely know her, she is just an intern, and hasn't been there for a month now! We were sent by my boss!” His fingers poke his temple, in a form to tell you to get it through your head.

“But I’m right? You don’t love me anymore.”

Mark stands up straight in disbelief with your words despite none defending his case coming from his own mouth. He could see how your heart was crushing with every passing second.

The truth is hiding in your eyes and it’s hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. 

“All this time I thought you were calm… level headed— but you're the opposite... you don’t talk to me, you tell Jaehyun and Jungwoo everything. Why can’t you tell me everything? Why can't you need and trust me?” His voice softens, calming down.

“Because you don’t ever want to listen to me! I can’t need you when you do everything in your power for me not to!” Truth is, he did know how to clean and cook for himself, he's done it before but he's grown selfish and dependent.

Your outburst left him speechless, all the sighs he had to give stuck and dispersed through every crevice of his interior, poisoning his flow. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I give and give and give but I never receive! I love you so much, it's become so painful that I rather let it slide than be far from you.” You crawl closer to the edge of the bed, hoping to minimize the distance between you two. The feeling of proximity only seems to feel farther, leaving room for a blizzard to rest between you two.

Mark knows he’s not man enough, your coworker said it. He knows he doesn’t help or take care of you, Jaehyun and Jungwoo told him so. None of these men had to tell him for him to know he doesn’t deserve you. It just so happens to be that Mark is selfish and wasn’t able to process it until now. He swore he believed you through writing but now, with you telling him directly— reality is forcing itself upon him.

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“What?” You ask confused and startled, looking up at him with fury in your eyes. “What? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re married and we’ll stay this way! It's not as easy as you let out, asshole.” You sniffle, getting off the bed now, approaching him despite the gap he’s formed between you two. In all senses. 

“You’re just not who I fell in love with anymore.”

You wanted to rip his hair out, claw his skin and inject your pain and love into him so he could understand what you felt. You knew he was selfish but how fucking stupid could he be? 

“You’re so— you’re no fucking better than anyone else. You fell in love with the idea you made of me. Whatever the fuck that is! Any chance you get to see the real me you shut me down, Mark! Why can’t you just love me?! Not the stupid girl you thought I was.”

Your cries stopped, hands taking purchase on his arms, squeezing tighter with the adrenaline of wrath coursing through your veins. You were tired, tired of his foolishness and in times like these, you weren’t going to let him ruin what you’ve built.

“You fell in love with an idealized version of me too, if you’re still this in love.” Mark gulps, making no effort to move but his eyes felt heavy and tired. Hurt even, not sure if for himself or for you, empathy winning for once. Pity sounds better.

You think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are. If you’re man at all.

“I see you for who you fucking are. You’re selfish, you don’t want to do things for others unless you’re getting something out of it. You weaponize your incompetence for me to do things for you. You’re insecure especially with other men around me because you think of yourself exactly the opposite as them unless they’re more pathetic compared to you.” Your finger poked his chest, reminiscing on how he began berating Jaehyun.

“You’re especially jealous of your friends because they offer more for me than you do and that’s your fault.  You project your insecurities and mistakes onto them and me because you’re a bad friend, husband, and ultimately a bad person. Yet I’m still with you because I love you— even with everything you put me through and how you can’t help but compare me to— to her! Get over it and through your head, that was loneliness and you were the easiest victim. No one leaves their husband for someone they don't love.”

Like the pathetic man he was, he broke down. No amount of swallowing and gulping down the knot in his throat would go away. Tears streamed down his cheeks upon hearing you project onto the world what you had whispered to the toilet bowl earlier. Mark wasn’t aware that you knew about Hyuck and her but he wouldn’t doubt if you had come across letters from them both in the past just like he came across your journals. 

Having you voice what he had been thinking about since that experience caused his world to finally see true color, despite you being purposely vicious. He knew what that fling meant for her, for Hyuck, and for him. It just so happens that it meant more for him and here he was taking it out on the only person who has stuck by his side.

You loved him but you also hated him and that was more than clear to him now.

“Better reason for us to take a break. You deserve better… I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.” He sighs, sniffling, throwing his head back to not let any more tears shed. 

“I don’t care. If I go without you I’ll—I…” you clinging your nails to his shoulders trying to cut off your words. You knew what you wanted to say wasn’t healthy, not for you and not for him. Mark knows this, weeks of reading your entries allowing him to understand what goes within the walls of your brain. 

"Y/n please stop... you’re hurting me." It doesn't change the fact that feeling it was worse than reading it. “Then you’re a coward who would die within an hour in my shoes if I treated you the way you treat me.” You sternly and ferociously spit. He wails before doing the only thing he knew would calm you down. 

Leaning in, he kisses you, meekly. Pouring in the love he once had for you and the remaining he has now. But your body rejects it, feeling how phony it is. Pushing him off, running to the restroom to repeat the happenings of earlier. Mark sighs in relief to have you not corner him but in this instance concern floods him.

He follows you to the bathroom, standing by the door frame with crossed arms. Watching you hold your hair like Jaehyun had done earlier. Tears back in your eyes as you continue to lash out your rage against the white porcelain that's witnessed this on other occasions. Although this was one that should symbolize happiness, yet it’s clear you both won’t take it as such.

Mark took a look at his watch, 11:28PM. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll take you to urgent care, you probably just need some electrolytes.” He approaches you, aiming to help you up but you resist, shaking your head defeatedly. 

“I’m not drunk.” You let out through gritted teeth. “No?” He questions smugly, annoyed at your rejection. “They were mocktails. These are normal symptoms.” He gives you a quizzical look. “Look in the drawer, Nancy Drew.” You huff, mocking him for his detective work these past weeks. It was only natural he’d find out eventually if he kept meddling in your journals.

With furrowed eyes, and look remaining, Mark pulls at the white drawer, the cold metal burning his warm hand. He digs and digs through piles of papers. All bills or old letters neither of you cared enough for. Reaching the bottom Mark feels something solid wrapped around a newer piece of paper. In comparison to the yellowing pages, this was white and bright, tied with a rubber band around the solid material.

He throws you a quick glance while taking it into his hands, unraveling the rubber to open it and come to view with three sticks, all with matching two-pink stripes. Any ounce of hope to restart is gone with the weight in his hands. Disappearing when he read the paper.

‘Laboratory report Patient: Y/n Lee. Sampled collected: May 15, 2008. Report date: May 20, 2008 Status: Pregnant Gestational age: 5-8 weeks.’

Mark reads it over and over, finally having the courage to look at you. His eyes wide and dim, reflecting on your cold angry ones. This was it. It was his life. What you would have taken as a beautiful moment, you can now agree this seals your faith. The look you gave him mirroring his misery. At least now you both were on board for once, basking in the fact this was a deadend no matter what.

You both know nothing will get fixed, all there is left is to pretend for the life that’s growing within you. Wreckless as ever, and the cycle of life continues. An innocent life to suffer the trails of a failed relationship for years to follow. That’s all Mark knows, that’s all you know. Generational curses don't end with either of you.

if you liked happy together: it’s too bad you’re married… to me, you’ll enjoy: stupid girl !

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[injunism]

yuta taboo thoughts

i have this one recurring taboo thought about him where you’re both on the five o’clock train; it’s so crowded that you’re pretty much pushed up against strangers. it’s not like you’re creeped out, you take this route every day after work, but he’s new. the boy with the shaggy black hair who slowly inches his way towards you with every stop until his chest is pressed against your back. you try and shuffle forward to give him more room, but there wasn’t much to spare, so for a few stops, you and him are sharing a one foot square of space. he gets more confident the longer he stays behind you, slowly sniffing you hair, hands ‘accidentally’ skimming your sides. all you can do is grip the standing pole and grit your teeth. he’s hot. you know that. but were you really keen on getting felt up by a stranger on the way home?

he doesn’t mind the way you flinch and tense up every time his fingers graze the skin of your legs. shouldn’t you know better than to wear such a short skirt around so many men? men that glance at you every chance they can get. he’d kill them if he could. they shouldn’t be allowed to look at such a beauty like you — with their perverted tongues licking their lips, and greedy eyes. but he won’t confront them. he won’t even confront you. he’ll just touch the skin of your thighs, slowly inching up until he’s brushing the seam of your panties and you’re squirming against him. the only time you audibly gasp is when he presses his hard on against your ass. it’s thick and heavy, you can feel it — and you want it. you want a strangers cock. how fucking pathetic of you. were you that touch deprived?

so you don’t stop him, not even when he dips two fingers into you, unbeknownst of the passengers surrounding your huddled figure. and he’ll get off on it too, humping the swell of your ass until the front of his suit pants are stained with what should be inside you. he leaves swiftly, slipping his fingers from between your thighs and sticking them between his lips while looking at you dead in the eyes. he smirks, but is gone too soon, only three stops before yours. it gives you enough to time to fix your skirt, cheeks burning at the gaze of everyone. it’s like they knew you were just stuffed full of a strangers fingers. though you weren’t worried, all you can hope is that he’s on the train tomorrow — and he makes his way behind you again.

[injunism]

happy together | m.l + l.dh [FINALE]

→husband!lee haechan x reader x bff!mark lee

genre: smut, angst, hurt, marriage au, love triangle, forbidden affair, friends to secret lovers, 90s/00's au

synopsis: with you by his side, mark's convinced things are finally going his way. his mind is set on his plans but haechan has plans of his own that also include you.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! toxic marriage, mutual infidelity, morally grey characters, jealousy, distrust, possessiveness, fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, public sex, oral sex, mild sadomasochism, hair pulling and scratching kink, accidental voyeurism, biting kink, pet names, lots of making out, manipulation, all parties purposely hurting each other, smoking, mentions of death.

wc: 29.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | epilogue

© 2023 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: legend says ella y yo by don omar y romeo santos was made after hyuck confronted mark about the affair lmfao. ik I said morally grey but... they border on evil atp kinda. the epilogue will be mark centered, there's no hyuck or happy together yn but mark's actions there will be consequences of what happens to him here. don't be confused it will be mark x reader just know epilogue yn isn't the same as happy together yn lol.

The leaves had long fallen by the time you and Mark continued what started that afternoon at the lake. From early October to late December with a few days left of 1999, all that’s left is the inquiry of how the year would end. 

But right now that didn’t matter to either you or him. Not when he had you perched on the counter. The cold ceramic against your ass makes you squeal with every single one of his thrusts. His upper half was bare. Shoulders littered with red marks from your fingernails and teeth prints elicited by his every stroke.

Mark felt swollen and warm inside you. Every movement made the both of you hyper-sensitive knowing an orgasm was soon to come. Your clothed upper half absorbing all his sweat and yours. Almost rasping his chest to a burning extent but he doesn’t complain, as long as you’re close. 

His breath tickled your neck; the hairs on your nape stood whenever his lips landed on the flesh; restraining themselves from juvenile markings. Your lips parted whenever his teeth nipped the skin. His tongue eased the slight pain from his actions to repeat them until you pulled his head by his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. 

With every tug of his hair, Mark’s pace increased and your whining became louder; pulling your hips closer to his. His hands were warm against you, perspiration making his clinging easy. Soft to the touch and in need of more. 

“Fuck I’m going to—“ he halted, feeling spurts come out in strings while you held him closer to you. “Yeah?” You ask, kissing the side of his face. Your insides coil in pleasure with every thrust along the friction of his pelvic bone against your clit. 

“I’m going to cum!” He exclaimed, holding even tighter to you. Every time you two found yourself in this situation he held you like this, scared that if he didn’t you’ll feel like he didn’t need you enough. Almost as a tactic to make you crave his touch and affection. 

You caressed his hair, hand dropping its grip to let your fingers cradle his head as he thrusts within you. Pistoning at a cruel pace but anything for either of you to reach your highs. Feeling him within your walls, touching every crevice with his cock. 

In a matter of seconds with a few more thrusts from him, you felt yourself come undone. Your moans mixed with whines that he swallowed when slotting his lips with yours, ensuing in a sloppy kiss. He came second, pulling out when he felt he couldn’t hold off anymore and ropes of cum latched themselves onto your thighs. 

Even after, he didn’t pull away from you. His left arm wrapped around your shoulder and his right around your waist, grasp as tight as before. Yours was loose on him, arms trembling while trying to cool off; Breathing heavily against his bare hot skin. 

It was then that it dawned upon you two that the buzzer and the home phone were ringing maniacally. You tried pushing him off to see who was this desperate to get in touch but he didn’t budge. His fingers only dug into you. Your eyes widened at his actions. This has become quite normal in the past months that you’re starting to accept it but not too fond of it. 

The home phone that stopped ringing and his own abandoned one beside the both of you began with anger rooted in. Mark swallowed the lump that had gotten stuck in his throat when seeing the caller ID. He threw you a glance, putting his finger up to his lips as advice. 

“Hyuck? What’s up, dude?” His hand pushed you closer to him. 

“Where the fuck are you guys at? I’ve been calling, ringing the buzzer, leaving voicemails, even paging you both, and not one response. What the fuck?” 

He paced around feeling defeated by the cold; phone to his ear gripping it without a fear that the plastic would pop off. You could hear him; so much anger in his voice, exasperation from the unknown. That desperation made your insides flip, satisfied with his frustrations. 

“Oh sorry, we’re in the room working on a piece. The music was all the way up.” Mark‘s fingers began caressing your skin, hoping you’d make a noise but nothing came out of you. He wasn’t lying about the music or the piece but that was long before you two had decided to act on any carnal instincts.

“Can one of you buzz me in? it’s fucking cold and there’s no one in the lobby. I couldn’t find my keys in the morning either.” His chattering teeth product of this horrid winter in the city. His words had made you realize the bathroom window was open and along the honking of cars outside, the biting breeze entered in swirls. Piercing your exposed skin the longer Mark held you there while working to remove the smell of sex. 

“Uh, yeah— yeah, give us a few secs to wash off. It got messy, ha.” He looked at you, but your eyes were nowhere insight. “Alright, plea—“ Mark didn’t let him finish. He ends the call, tossing the phone towards the wall and letting the already chipped-off paint smear itself more. 

He didn’t move; cooling down before he was to let you go and begin to clean off. Looking into the mirror behind you. Mark didn’t want to admit it but he was beginning to hate the act of sneaking around and fucking his best friend’s wife on the time windows he wasn’t home. It didn’t help that after a month, Hyuck was coming home earlier than usual, decreasing his time with you. 

Mark knew he shouldn’t have gotten attached. Even when he used the excuse of Hyuck being a complete shit to you; on a moral scale, Mark would be in the wrong too. Especially when you’re his childhood best friend’s wife.

But with all that moral guilt, Mark wasn’t sorry for being with you. He loved the feeling he got when sneaking around. He loves when he’s buried deep in you, hearing you moaning, and whining for his touch. He loved knowing you smiled and laughed because of him and not because of Hyuck who would only cause your mood to deteriorate. 

Yet with how much he loved all that, he hated that you were still Hyuck’s despite how much Mark told himself you were his. His piercing hatred-filled glare through the mirror and towards himself said it all. 

With one last push at his chest, Mark separated himself from you. He watched you clean off his dried cum in a rush, complaining about how much of a hassle it was. Pulling out body wipes to remove the lingering smell of sex and sweat off of you; leaving no sign behind for him to see. 

Mark watched you through glaring eyes. With every passing second he stood bare before you, his chest compressed. Feeling his emotions trying to suffocate him more and more. Reality did its best to make him see the bigger picture he’s avoiding. In addition he receives your exasperated hand motions and expressions for him to get out of the way and start getting cleaned up. 

The door was left ajar on your way out. He could see from the slit your jumpy steps to spray yourself with perfume after changing shirts and the house with a spray that sat on the kitchen counter after buzzing in Hyuck. 

When he saw you coming closer to the bathroom again, a sort of relief washed over him but it was taken away when you harshly closed the door. Depriving him of what you’re doing to make the apartment comfortable for him: your husband. 

He stood motionless for a second. The surrounding noise filled his understanding of what was behind that door. A timer was ticking in his head, the tapping of your shoes replaced the ticking. Every second became louder and his chest trembled knowing the outcome. 

Mark heard his breath, shaky and unstable while his eyes widened. The scent of air freshener crept in through the bottom slit of the door. Filling his nostrils the second he heard the front door shut; that loud boom shutting off the timer. 

He sighed heavily, eyes shutting tight while simultaneously lowering his head in frustration. The muffled words of the pair pushed him further into these deep feelings he was harboring. 

“God fucking damn it.” He curses, enticed by the sound of your voice calling Hyuck ‘honey’. His head turned towards the door, jaw clenching but that’s all he could really do. At the end of the day he was living under his roof and eating his food. 

He reached for a hand towel, wetting it to pay away the staining sweat and dry cum that lay on his thighs. Pent-up frustration still lingered, enough to toss it with too much force into the hamper as he put his clothes back on.

Mark leaned over the counter again, mimicking the position the both of you were in before his best friend’s arrival. He still felt your warmth, it always lingered around. His gaze fixates on itself through the mirror. 

That noticeable damage stress causes slapped on his face, muscles visibly tense. All his thoughts were the same lately: You. That's all he thought about. Whether it was positive or negative, you’re the only one crowding his thoughts.

He takes a hold of the doorknob, a soft sound emitting that causes Hyuck to turn towards the closed room. You don’t turn to it, fixated on flipping through the channels of the television. Your hand on your hip, and some small humming slipping along. 

He was aware of the hesitance of the one behind the door. Becoming alert, he raised himself from the couch. Enough to not draw attention from you, when he saw that the knob was turning and the door was now ajar; his hands took a hold of your waist pulling you towards him. 

While Mark looked at the happenings before him with disdain, you dismissed the older male. Laughing with your husband about him startling you; complaining about the lingering pain from his grasp. He held you tightly, back to his chest, and for once in the past years, he felt comfortable. 

For the past month or so things had been going too good to be true with Hyuck. At the beginning in which you and Mark began this rendezvous, you both continued to bicker and argue with hopes of completely ruining each other. As time progressed, you stopped inciting arguments with him. You still wanted his downfall to continue but for now, ignorance was bliss.

You ignored him and kept the peace for the most part, too tired to continue the cycle he still tried to keep up. It was comfortable at this point. But when he began to feel foolish and embarrassed that you didn’t continue or follow along, he took it as a small victory, a glance that things were turning for the better. Quite honestly he felt good, not feeling neglected anymore was nice.

But Hyuck was no stupid man. With something like that, there’s always an underlying factor. Especially when it comes to your mercy. Though his inkling began the night of your anniversary dinner, he began to notice the lingering touches. And at times you still argued you’d always run off to Mark’s room, refusing to get out. Making him drag Mark towards your shared room so he wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you. 

Though he never actually caught either of you doing anything. That pang in him worsened as the days progressed. And seeing how much you preferred being around his best friend was killing him. He hated seeing how you laughed and had a conversation with Mark but not him. 

He hated seeing you smile at Mark but become cold whenever Hyuck came home. It didn’t help that you always smelled like Mark. Whenever he arrived, the smell was prominent enough that it even intoxicated him when you two slept. 

He began coming home earlier in late November. Always pretending to fumble with the keys to give you both time to become decent if he was to catch you. But every time he opened those doors you’d be in the kitchen or lounging on the couch. Alone. 

Those times he’d sigh in relief. Eyes searching for Mark just to find him on the balcony smoking with a look of angst that kept getting worse as days passed by. He felt foolish each time, angry at himself for doubting you both of ever betraying him. Only he was sick enough to ruin you, he should know better than to think of you in that light. 

But it never got easier. Jealousy is consuming him daily even when he keeps telling himself there’s nothing to worry about. His jealousy is not too different from Mark’s. While Hyuck might enjoy your affection and present love, Mark was hating how quickly you changed the roles. Now it was him you treated like worthless trash and only had around for a quickie. If anything he now felt neglected.

“Did you find your keys?” Mark asks, settling on the free couch across from you. Hyuck turns to him, his smile falters. Both men ported that subtle defiant glare with each other. He shakes his head, turning from him to you, and presents you with a smile, making one of your own form too. 

He liked this. This was comforting even if he knew nothing ever lasts between you two.

“Haven’t looked for them yet.” He answers, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He pauses for a second to glance at Mark again. His scent strongly lingered on you even if you thought the perfume could drown it out.

Mark looks at you momentarily, hoping you’d decide to get out of Hyuck’s grasp to at least show some care but that was wishful thinking. “You should’ve rung other tenants, they probably would’ve let you up.” He remarks of his long wait, turning to the TV in hopes it would aid him in ignoring you both. 

He hated this, it was unbearable.

“I guess.” You look between both of them, repositioning your legs on Hyuck’s lap and hooking your arms around his neck. He holds you tightly, hands taking a grip of your thighs and waist. Mark tried not to see the way he caressed you. His fingers glided over the fabric of your skirt and looked at you as he teased the idea of them going under.

Getting fed up from your quiet giggles and his best friend, Mark stood up ready to head towards the rooftop but Hyuck stopped him. “Where are you going?” Mark looked between his hand and your face, seeing how you did nothing to avoid his gaze. “Smoke, why?” His foot begins to jitter the longer he remains there. 

“Let’s eat first. I have some news. ” Hyuck answers, helping you both off the couch. His hand clutches yours, pulling you towards the dinner table. Mark followed suit, sitting across you while boring daggers into your eyes as Hyuck warms up the food that had gotten cold in the trance of waiting. 

“Are they bad ones?” Mark questioned, glare not dropping trying to figure out if it was disinterest or guilt in your mirroring gaze. “You’re home earlier than recently and even brought food.” 

Haechan granted him a chuckle, the microwave’s buzzing muffling it. “You can’t let anything slide.” Shaking his head, your husband took the seat beside you. “Not bad at all actually.” 

Mark didn’t seem to enjoy the answer, opting to gather the drinks. While it went unnoticed by Hyuck, you couldn’t help but feel the hostility weighing down on your shoulders. To ease that, you decided to pry for an answer as well. 

“No but actually, why are you home earlier?” You ask, preparing his plate despite his protest. This was so different that the quick change-up still felt foreign to all of you but mainly Mark. It’s almost mimicking the life you two had while newly weds.

He turns to you with a stoic look, swallowing the piece in his mouth. “Why? You don't want me to? Was I interrupting something?” You muster a nervous laugh, kissing his cheek to deflect. “Not really. We were working on last-minute touch-ups for Mrs. Oh’s commission.” You squeeze his hand and elicit him to smile in return, dropping the hostility. 

“I know it’ll turn out great.” Oh, he was so full of shit and you knew it. He can act all he wants but his feelings towards your art will never change. “How’s the painting going, Mark?” His focus shifts to the quiet man. Mark had that same angry look plastered on his face, obvious that he wasn’t enjoying himself. 

“Good. Your wife is of great help.” He raised his beer bottle, guzzling the liquid as if his life depended on it, without a care for his liver. Hatred seemed to be the only thing that filled your husband’s body upon the sentence spilling from Mark’s mouth.

His slow chewing and persistent glare towards the older male made this tense dinner worsen. “That she is.” His voice had deepened when the words cascaded. It was ruining your night how obvious they were being. But if they weren’t going to act upon it and grant you entertainment, then you’ll have to shift that tension.

“Hyuck, you never answered my question.” You turn to him, dropping your grip from the fork and leaning back on the chair rest. “Right, well. I’ve been working with them for a while–”

“You’re quitting?!”

“Let me finish, love.”

He grins trying to hide his dissatisfaction with your interruption. His hand takes a hold of yours, squeezing it. “I’ve been overworking myself. Working overtime to the point it’s been a big reason our marriage is the way it is…” You don't meet his gaze, it drops just like your stomach knowing what he could mean. 

Not only does it cause sadness but it also irks you that he’d drop that in front of Mark. Sure he knew you guys weren’t doing good but why bring it up now that you’re both ignoring it?

Regardless he continues. “What I’m getting at is that I have some hours accumulated and I’m taking three months off.” Both you and Mark turned to him startled. Three months was a lot for a simple vacation and when you think about it, he’s not that pleasant when he has free time at hand.

“That’s a lot of time, Hyuck. What do you even plan on doing?!” He could hear the concern in your voice, you still weren’t ready to see him day and night. Mark seemed to have your sentiment at heart. He too was thinking of how awkward and uncomfortable things will be with him at home. 

Yet all Hyuck could do was laugh wholeheartedly until it turned dry and low, glaring at you both. “You two don’t seem to want me around.” His fork hits the plate with a loud thud, your eyes rolling at his attitude. Just when things were nice, he always had to sneak in his tantrums. 

“It’s not that, you just haven’t had time to yourself in so long. What do you even plan on doing?” At that second Mark felt warm. The tone in your voice reminded him of how you would talk to Hyuck months prior. It gave him hope that you two would cut the crap and go back to argument after argument. At least then you'd run to him for comfort. 

Donghyuck pouted, nodding in agreement. “Yeah... That’s why we’re going on a trip.” He pats your thigh, a smile creeps on his face. “A family friend has allowed me to use one of their homes. I thought it’d be nice to spend New Years there since we spent Christmas here.” He looked around for a reaction, a little annoyed that neither gave him one. 

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow, smile faltering. 

“When do you guys leave?” Mark questions, a dumbfounded expression on his face. Hyuck pressed his lips together with a twinge of guilt the longer he looked at his friend. Has the hostility been so bad that he's not including himself? Well… Mark’s best interest wasn’t that at heart.

“Tomorrow and you're going too.” He points his finger for visualization. In the second Hyuck’s gaze drops to search for his napkin, Mark and you both turn to each other. Mark questioned what would be of this relationship while you wondered what your husband was planning or if he truly was clueless. Nonetheless, the biggest concern was how your little game would continue with Hyuck around 24/7 now. 

Donghyuck’s plans only seemed to interfere with Mark’s. Even more now that he was thinking about all the things he planned on revealing as a surprise. Mark didn’t have three months. In fact, at the beginning of the year he had to start moving into his new apartment. Having you two help him move in was going to be the reveal but now everything was ruined. 

“Are you okay?”

Your genuine concern broke both of them out of their trances. Mark turned to you with his big round eyes, feeling his chest warm again; in awe of your simple actions. Hyuck’s chewing slowed down when he looked between you and Mark; confused and scared at the same time. 

“Mark?”

“Um… yeah it’s just–” 

Fuck he missed hearing you say his name endearingly. 

In that instance he gave you a sly smile, scratching his head in discomfort. “I actually can’t stay the whole three months.” A sort of apology settled in his eyes knowing you're both confused. 

“I already found an apartment and I wanted it to be a surprise for you guys when I start moving in… I get the keys on the second.” He chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze but turning to his best friend.

You knew that day would come. In fact, your fear of him leaving is what led to both of you starting this affair. Yet you didn’t think it would be this soon. What was once hostility between your husband and his best friend now transferred between you and Mark. 

Maybe you didn’t care too much that he was leaving anymore but you did care that he hid something that big from you. It’s like he didn’t know you at all. Surprises were never your thing and if he had pulled that on you when the time came, you’d be absolutely furious with him.

“Did they give you hell for the working situation?” Hyuck’s voice interfered with your internal monologue, turning your gaze from Mark to him. “Kind of… I mean I’ve shown them proof of freelancing with the paintings and even if that wasn’t enough, I’ve managed to get Taeyong’s help in being a co-signer for payments. Just until I finally settle with the artist studio.”

“It’ll be sad to see you go. Right, y/n?”

“Right.”

“So does that mean you’ve gotten a job?” Hyuck excitedly questions, forgetting the remainder of his meal. Mark’s body sways at the mention, a smile forming on his lips. “Yeah…” He spoke, trying his best to not seem too excited. 

While the two seemed to be celebrating, your mood had soured. He found an apartment and chose his location but didn’t tell you any of it and then complains that you’ve changed. He truly wasn’t any better.

“What location?”

“Huh?”

Hyuck hums in confusion, seeing your expression. “I want to know what location he chose. Yasuki gave him two options. So which one?” There your husband lets out a confused chuckle, shaking his head and leaning back on the chair. “Why haven’t I heard of this?” He laughs a bit more, pushing his plate away from him.

“Because you’re never home.” Your hostility was ruining the night now. What started with them was ending with you. It was not helping Hyuck’s feelings when it came to you and his best friend. When he thought it was a simple delusion, your reaction to knowing Mark was leaving left a bitter taste in his mouth to the point he was blaming the meal.

Mark cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “I’m going to give digital work a try. So that studio— it’s an hour away.” He gulped turning to you in fear of how you’d react. It wasn’t that far from each other but you still weren’t processing that he was going to leave you. 

An awkward air surrounded the three of you. While Hyuck went back to eating and you played with your food at this point, Mark cleared his throat trying to rid of that anger that filled him earlier. As much as he despises your recent treatment, it pained him more to see you sad because of him.

“So, what time do we leave tomorrow?” 

“Not too early. There’s still some errands I have to run before we leave the apartment alone.”

Hyuck lifts his head, answering Mark before rising from his seat. “Are you done?” Your voice cuts through. You were used to him leaving the table whenever but you didn’t want to be alone with Mark right now. At most you knew he’d cling to you as a means to ask for forgiveness and you didn’t want to deal with it.

He hums, taking his plate and washing the remains himself. It’s been a while since he’s done anything to help around the house. The action alone causes some irritation with you despite knowing you should be glad. “I’m waking up early tomorrow so if you excuse me I’ll go wash up and sleep after the game.”

Making his way to the bedroom and soon after back out to the bathroom; Hyuck closed the door behind him feeling that chilly breeze from the open window. Everything seemed fine but an ominous feeling enveloped him upon looking at himself in the mirror. The light fixture above emits a green hue to compliment the dark tiles. 

He couldn’t point his finger at it but being in this space and in the position of him leaning against the counter was causing that ache in his chest again. If he remained any longer he could see himself form scenarios in which he wouldn’t be happy and he rather not disrupt the peace you all reside in. For now at least.

As soon as Hyuck turned on the shower, Mark joined him in opening the faucet to finish washing the dishes. “Just leave them there.” Your monotonous voice filled his ears. Head turned to you with a hum as he scrubbed the last remaining utensils.

“I'm already finished, don’t worry about it.” He tried smiling. “Jesus fucking christ seems like everyone can do things themselves now.” You didn’t give him time to respond, opting to walk towards the living area. Flipping through the channels to get some watch time before Hyuck either forced you to watch the match or subtly shoo you away. 

Mark looked at you dumbfounded. He knew you were upset with him, enough to make him regret ever not telling you the news when he heard them. To an extent Mark knew you didn’t like things being hidden from you (though you adored hiding things from them). But he had justified his actions by hoping you’d be ecstatic by the time the reveal came. 

In his mind, he pictured you happily helping him move into his new apartment. Happy to see him finally start his life all over again with hopes this time he wouldn’t fail. Sometimes he wished you’d end up moving in with him. Leaving Hyuck and this faux persona you’re both creating nowadays. 

But by the looks of how you’re taking in the news, he should’ve planned better. Things between you two became complicated and mostly carnal. So he’s been trying to avoid making you upset but nothing was working. He was becoming a burden to you in his eyes and he was starting to feel frightful. 

“I’m going to go smo—“

“You do that.”

Your fingers threaded through your hair like his had earlier, not granting him even a direct look. Cutting him off after deciding to just watch the remaining minutes of the match before the one Hyuck wanted to watch.  

Mark’s mouth was left ajar, speechless at how easily you blew him off without remorse. This same thing has become quite recurrent every time he upsets you and as much he tries not to, each time you leave him feeling useless to the point he’s stuck to your hip doing anything you want.

He nods in disappointment, taking his box of cigarettes and keys, making his way to the rooftop. With the door closing behind him, you sigh in annoyance with what life is bringing your way. 

By half time, Mark had come back ignoring that bubbling jealousy as you caressed an angry Haechan whose body you enveloped as comfort given his team was losing. Three hours later he had woken from his slumber to the faintest sound of the television still on in the living room. 

Curious and with a dry throat, Mark stood from the bed making his way to the living room, opening the door as quietly as he could. 

“Today through this exclusive TV offer you can get twelve fascinating issues of Zoobooks for 19.95…” 

Distracted by the advertisement, you hadn’t noticed Mark approach you in awe after realizing the shirt you’re wearing is his. Small details like this made him forget all those abrupt outbursts you’d throw his way that only made his heart ache. If only he knew how many of these Donghyuck has endured.

His arms wrapped around your waist pulling you to his chest. Lips landing tenderly on your neck and leaving playful pecks. Your low giggles made his heart swell, hands taking a grasp on his own to loosen his grip and let you turn to face him. 

“Hyuck you should be asleep…” You drag out the ‘e’ once face to face with the older male, your smile falters upon the realization. His mirrored yours; smile dropping, eyes filled with despondence, and a knot in his throat. 

“Oh… it’s you.” To an extent he could hear the pity in your voice, subtly apologizing for confusing him with your husband. 

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” His sadness had become anger, that same knot choking him to a physically painful extent. Despite that, your pity had subsided and boredom was evident. 

“What if it was him and I said your name? I don’t want either of us to die before the New Year.” 

In his entire anger, he hated that his only thought upon your words was: ‘I wouldn’t mind dying with you.’ 

With that thought alone Mark was beginning to feel frustrated with how easily his emotions ranged because of you. Nevertheless ending his turmoil of emotions, you pulled him down to the couch with you. Encasing his lips with yours once situated to give him some peace of mind.

A kiss was always enough to calm him down. Pulling you closer to his body and resting his hands on your hips as you both continued this lustful kiss. Sighing into the kiss once he felt like he needed a breath of air; one of his hands traveled to hold your face carefully. His warmth radiated to your cold cheek.  

“What are you doing up this late?” He whispers, repositioning himself to the armrest on the right and pulling you to his body. Mimicking the position you and Hyuck were in earlier. 

“Last minute cleaning before we leave tomorrow.” You took the remote control from the coffee table, disrupting the once semi-comfortable position. “I’m starting to regret it knowing he hasn’t packed anything yet. Have you?” 

“Not precisely. I had packed everything for when I started moving into the apartment—“ and he knew he fucked up right then and there. 

Your body became tense against his, hard enough that he feared you had become a statue. Shutting his eyes in regret; Mark started beating himself over not being careful with his words. He had gotten so used to speaking freely with you that he was beginning to fear he’d have to censor his vocabulary now. 

In a frenzy of panic, the words escape his mouth with fear: “Move in with me.” 

There was no denying his words had startled you. Removing his grip from your body to face him, the questions brewing in your brain engrave themselves into your face. 

While Mark worked with that nervous laugh that escaped him involuntarily, his hands reached for your face to plant short kisses onto your lips in hopes they’d ease both of your emotions. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah!” 

A peppy feeling in his chest. “I mean it’s smaller than this place but I think you’ll like it.” Your eyes scanned his face, a layer of blush flushing it the longer you stared. The effects of being stared at by someone you love.

“The terrace is spacious so you can have all the plants you want. The bedroom can be your studio and we can have the bed in the living area.” He was so happy and blinded by the scenarios of having you in his home as his wife that he couldn’t see the gears turning in your head. 

How willing were you to follow through?

An amused laugh escapes your lips. Mark felt the airy comfort of acceptance to which he mirrors your laugh, kissing you now that he’s satisfied. 

“Sounds like a plan, huh? You can do whatever you want while I work for us. I mean I like you and you like me. We can start from square one, I really like you, y/n. Go with me, what else do we need?”

You knew what was needed but for now, you’ll bask in his boyish delight and kiss him like many times before; igniting his hope.

Mark took your kisses as confirmation. Hopefully a few days from now you both will find yourselves running off and leaving this stagnant life. It could be true, this may be your yearned fresh start.

He held your body closer, pillowy lips encasing yours to swiftly place them against your jawline. He created a path amongst your cold skin. A fluttering feeling brewing in your stomach the closer his lips got to your neck.

His tongue lapped at the flesh, drawing circles until he kissed it to create a tingle to run up your spine. Mark was always delicate when kissing your skin. Yes, he wanted to show Donghyuck and everyone what he did to you but for respect towards you, he restrained himself. 

“I’ll make sure you’ll get clients no matter what. You can even work remotely from the apartment or not at all if you don't want to. I'll do fine enough.” 

His warm whisper traveled up your skin to your ears, booming within your head but not much in a pleasant way.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes…” 

The word left in a groan, hands moving your hips to make you grind against his growing bulge. Quite interesting how easily he can get turned on. He was too enthralled with the way your body felt against him and his hopes to start a new life that he didn’t notice a wave of fright wash over you when hearing the slight creaking from your bedroom.

Not wanting to worry the man beneath you, you smiled, taking his face into your hands. He returned the smile wider, leaning in for one final kiss of the night. Your unexpected moves of getting off him creating a whine to slip from his lips.

“Good night, Mark. Remember to pack up before he finishes his errands.”

You didn’t give him time to return the words or feel frustrated with the mention of his best friend but it didn’t matter. All he cared for was the new life both of you were set to start together.

Fear had always plagued you upon entering this room even before Mark arrived. Whether it was because you knew an argument would brew or because you’d have to sleep in it alone. Things are different now. Now the fear stemmed from entering the room after your rendezvous to see Hyuck staring at the door until you entered, ready to lash out for these years of misery.

But in this reality he wasn’t staring at the door. He sat on the bed, back towards you while looking outside the vast window. Curtain pushed to the side that made copious amounts of neon lighting enter your shared bedroom. His figure had made your heart stop, begging for clemency at the fright he gave you.

You feared he heard you and Mark speak let alone any of the noises any of you could’ve let out from making out. While your heart banged against your ribcage to be let out, Hyuck restrained his bitter chuckle. That familiar smell swaying its way to his nostrils. At least you were in the room with him now. 

“Can’t sleep?” Your words didn’t elicit a response from him, if anything he could barely produce a sigh. With no response you approached him. Climbing on the bed, feeling the mattress sink under your knees, complaining about your abuse until you reached him. Wrapping your arms around his waist like Mark had done to you earlier, lips laying on the crook of his neck to take a whiff of his musk.

“What were you doing?” He asks, avoiding your own question. He didn’t need an answer, he knew perfectly what you were doing. Now that he had you this close, that pungent smell of Mark on you suffocated him. It didn’t help that the walls were thin and he could hear both of you murmuring. He may not have heard actual words but it was enough to know you two were together. 

His head turned to look at you upon not gaining an answer. It’s not that you took a while but he wanted to familiarize himself with your face whenever you were lying, just like you knew when he lied.

“Cleaning before we leave. I don’t want to come back to a dirty house.” You answer, kissing his cheek with a smile right after. 

Fuck. There’s no incriminating factor. Perhaps you're used to it by now.

Hyuck hums, sighing once again to rid his nostrils of Mark’s lingering scent. It was painfully intoxicating his loins. If he didn’t do anything about it, he feared not waking up tomorrow morning. Death by heartache. 

Shifting in his spot, Hyuck takes a hold of your body, laying you slowly underneath him. The image before you made your heart swell, giddy excitement filling your entire being. He didn’t do anything besides hover over you but that remorseful look in his eyes made you feel inherently nice. 

You didn’t want to feel this way. As much as you act civilized and occasionally loving towards him and in front of Mark to put up a facade, you are still angry and hurt for what he did to you nearly two years ago. You still hated him with your entire being but sometimes the nostalgia of happy moments took over you and made you miss him like crazy.

You knew you hated him. But despite how much you hated him you will always have that parasite in your system that’ll force you to remember the times he’s made you happy. And now that you found yourself with him hovering over you and looking at you lovingly, you seemed to cave.

When you thought he was leaning in for a kiss, his lips landed on your forehead. A tender and soft kiss is what he laid on your skin, taking in the scent of your hair rather than Mark’s. At least this would help ease his aching heart. 

Hyuck wondered if this feeling is what you felt when you found out about him and that girl. He never saw you cry about the situation but instead saw you tear down the house with any argument that ensued due to the subject. Perhaps he should be the one to act that recklessly. After all this was between his wife and his childhood best friend but he knew he wasn’t brave enough for that. 

In contrast to his inner turmoil, you found the action sweet. Trying your hardest to avoid that feeling of giddiness he was causing you. You two stayed like that for a few minutes, enough for his own scent to rub off on you from how close he held you. Satisfied, Hyuck pulls away, a gush of cool air getting between your bodies to remind you of that lost warmth.

“Don’t overwork yourself, you’ve done a good job keeping the house clean.” His voice still held that sleepy hoarseness, making his praise fill you even more with satisfaction. While he laid on his side again and whispered a sweet good night, you took the opportunity to turn to him and steal a kiss.

For the first time in a while, you initiated the kiss. Catching him off guard, Hyuck opens his eyes surprised before easing into it. Reminded how sweet kisses from you were and how much he had missed them all this time.

Pulling away with a smile on your lips, Hyuck returns it amused. “Good night.” You whisper, laying your head on his chest while his arm wraps around your shoulder pulling you closer to him. You two may feel hurt for the actions you’ve both taken but for tonight you’ll play along with those emotions that crave the comfort of puppy love. 

The next day came quicker than expected. All of you had different illusions created regarding your relationships and Mark seemed the most excited about the ones he’s created. Not that you wanted to ruin that hope but you needed time to think about it. On one hand it’d be a perfect way to finally ruin Donghyuck and make him pay for what he’s done to you but on the other it was such an abrupt proposition that you’re still trying to process it. 

And for the past three hours, you’ve sat calmly in the passenger seat of your car now that Haechan finally finished his errands, road trip in process. Both of you hand in hand with the radio working as the only source of sound. Even with that, Mark’s bitterness couldn’t be taken away. The image of you being so loving towards the man you fought with daily was consuming him in the worst way possible. 

Can one forget everything said that easily?

He tried distracting himself with anything he brought but even that couldn’t do anything for him. His glare shifted from you to Hyuck anytime someone talked. For the past hour both you and your husband had been passively debating on what to eat before arriving at the vacation home. Mark had given up his rights to make decisions, not caring much about what he ate. If it was for him, a good cold drink and a cigarette would be considered a meal.

“I don’t want to eat pasta again this week.” you whined, fingers squeezing his. A low grunt left your husband’s throat, rolling his eyes at how hard it’s always been to get you to choose what to eat. “Then let’s stop at a rest area and buy something from those restaurants?” His voice got louder, not enough to be considered aggravated but enough to make Mark shake his head with a grin.

“And eat in the car?! We still have two hours left, I don’t want the smell to stay!” Mark covered his face with his hands, laughing silently seeing you let go of Haechan’s hand. You pout in dissatisfaction while Hyuck ran his fingers through his hair, a huff of annoyance escaping him. 

It wasn’t long until the sun went down and due to his busy morning, he didn’t get to eat breakfast or lunch. Poor guy was on the brink of fainting from starvation. “We should’ve ate while you were putting gas.” The words escaping you had traveled to Hyuck’s ear, leaving behind a bitter tone.

Raising the hand that was in his hair, he turned to you irked. His face was red, mouth agape in disbelief since you were the one who didn’t want to eat in that area. “I told you and you didn’t want to!—” 

He was abruptly cut off when a popping sound was heard, dissipating any anger and laughter from anyone inside. Right now, you all felt confused and scared realizing it was the sound of a tire the second the rubber began flopping on the concrete and the drive was no longer smooth.

“Just what I need, Jesus fucking Christ.” Your husband mutters, opening his door angrily to get out and inspect the damage. You looked at him with the same expression he gave you before beginning his berating but now you followed behind to see what happened. With everyone gone, Mark is left alone in the car, realizing this could get much worse.

“Pop the trunk, let me get the spare out.” Donghyuck states, patting the metal and looking at you a bit tired. But your ashamed grimace was putting him out of ease. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t have a spare…”

He rubbed his face, sighing in frustration. “Are you being serious, y/n? Why don’t you have a spare?!” 

"I— we took it out to transfer the first batch of canvases to Mrs. Oh's house, we just didn't bother to put it back in..." 

He wanted to yell at you. To start an argument in which both of you would tell the other to die without saying the actual words. He wanted to walk away and leave both you and that traitor alone with the car just as long as he was far away; but he couldn’t.

Things have gone well and last night had given him hope too. Haechan knew he couldn’t ruin things this fast over a tire or being hangry. The only rational thing to do is sit down and act like he was fine, like it was all fine and under control. 

Taking a seat next to Mark, the both share a brief look before sitting in silence, defeat washing over your husband. Mark didn’t give any input and you yourself didn’t know what to do. Only thing that came to mind was comforting Hyuck.

That in mind, you push his legs together, taking a seat on his lap and making him face you after wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked beautiful in your opinion. His plump lips formed a pout, lids heavy from exhaustion. Even when dull you adored his eyes.

“Does your phone have signal? Can we try calling a mechanic?” He shakes his head, grunt sounding more like a whine while protruding his pout more. “Yours?” You mimic his response, pulling him closer by the neck.

Mark saw everything from his peripheral, knuckles turning white the tighter he held his book. His heart was screaming, aching, and threatening to explode if you kept being this blatantly affectionate in front of him. Did you have no shame? No remorse? What were you playing at to love him just last night but rub in his face that another man could have you publicly?

The nail in the coffin came when you leaned into Haechan, slotting his lips with yours and kissing him tenderly. Turning his head to an angle towards you both, his eyes squinted and lips parted with aversion. The image seemed too familiar. Was it from last night or the afternoon in this same car that started this affair but he too felt betrayed now. 

Having enough of watching you kiss away your husband’s stress, the older male made his way out of the car, slamming the door causing both you and Hyuck to separate. His gaze turned to his friend, panting to regain air but before he could question anything you kissed his swollen lips once more, holding him for dear life.

“Better?”

“Much better.” 

Hyuck smiles at you, kissing your cheek before helping you off his lap. He wouldn’t have minded staying like that for a while but his subconscious told him to go to Mark. To talk to him while he remained agitated and with swollen lips: evidence of your adoration. It may be malicious but why shouldn’t he when everything pointed to his betrayal. 

“You good?” Your husband raises his eyebrows, thumb swiping against his red swollen lips. An action Mark watches bitterly. “Just taking a smoke.” Placing the stick between his lips, the older pushes the box towards his friend as an offering. Hyuck takes it, leaning against the car waiting for Mark to pass him the lighter but the latter turns it on with his own. In the instance that their heads came together and tips of the burning cigarettes touch, a flash goes off making both of them turn startled.

Haechan blows off the smoke, ruffling his hair when realizing it was you that took a picture of both. No one said anything. You simply smiled at them, rolling the film for whatever was your next target. 

For the following half an hour you all remained silent with the exception of your camera whenever they did something you liked and occasionally the radio if anyone saw it fit to turn it on.

The sun was threatening to fall and worry finally settled; the three of you throwing worried glances to each other. When the universe had enough of you all acting useless; the presence of an older woman cleaning her hands on her worn out apron stood before you three. 

“What seems to be the problem?” Though sounding hostile, she meant well. Clearing his throat, Hyuck stood from his position on the seat he had settled on not long ago. “Hello… Our tire popped and we don’t have a spare. By any chance do you have service to call a mechanic?” His hands rub against his jeans, smiling at her in hopes that would help. 

She simply chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. “Who doesn’t carry a spare tire driving through here? Have you seen the potholes?” Her chuckle turned into laughter, mocking the three but nevertheless she didn’t mean any harm and instead asked them to follow her.

“There’s no mechanic for another two hours and the one we have has been out for the past week but my son and husband should be here from work in around ten minutes. My son has spare tires and you can work it out with him. How does that sound?” 

There was no other choice. All of you had to be gone soon if you wanted to enjoy the remaining days of 1999 and Mark’s stay with the two of you. Nodding, Hyuck agrees, eliciting a smile on the woman’s face that invites the party to her home. 

The car was left on the side of the road but the vast windows of the home allowed all of you to view it for precaution. The walk from the vehicle to the house was a bit far with the troubles of wet dirt from past rain and some stray thorns but both men tried their best to make your path clear.

It was much colder upon entering the home. The walls were freezing and the lights dull. The house was lovely but that ominous feeling was creeping on Mark enough to hold your arm and pull you closer to him. You mustered to side eye him, confused on his actions but pulled away when Hyuck turned to you both. A subtle dissatisfied look on his face.

“Spending New Years at the beach?” The lady questioned in order to create conversation. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea so far.” Haechan smiles, looking around when taking a seat on the plastic covered couch. The older lady that soon introduced herself as Magui had gone to the kitchen to continue cooking dinner.

She had confessed that her husband and son left her alone the entire day. Most of the time only seeing them when they came back and when making them lunch. Seeing yourself in her, you searched for a sliver of sadness but who figured some people don’t mind the life you have. She spoke highly of the men in her life so maybe that was the key to her happiness. 

“Are you staying with family for the New Year, Magui?” You egg the conversation, sipping on the hot chocolate she handed all of you now that it was getting colder. “We��re spending it with my family. They live in the next state over. Today is their last day of work for the year so we leave early tomorrow.” Her smile became warmer the longer she spoke to you all, feeling more at ease herself. 

“Are you all spending it with your family?” Truth be told she wanted to know what was the deal between the three of you. She was an older woman, the more wiser and she could see the glances both men threw you. Were you with the beautifully tanned honey haired man or the brunette with gracious cheekbones? Both of them made their infatuation clear but only one of them would be presented as your partner.

Mark shrugged, giving her a shy smile. “Just us three.” Haechan answers, taking your hand into his. There her answer went. Parting her lips to let out an ‘ah’, she nods at the reveal. 

“Seems a little lonely doesn’t it?” It did but none of you would want to admit it. After all the past years you’ve spent it with Hyuck’s family so this was a change of pace. “Not necessarily. I only have them.” Mark answers, his eyes shifting from her to both of you. 

He had his family but his brother and mother were cowards that did anything his father said. He, like you, spent Christmas and New Years with Hyuck and his family, that’s the most he’d see his best friend in a busy year. 

“Yeah… well his family too but he wanted to change it up this year.” You laugh nervously, squeezing your husband’s hand who only raised his eyebrows as a response. You, like Mark, didn't have a good relationship with your own family. 

Not too long after your mother’s death, your father remarried a woman you could only describe as a geriatric cunt. Preferring her over you: his own daughter, things hadn’t been the same as they were when you were younger. Years of neglect had gotten to you and you treated him as nothing more than your creator. 

Well, that’s your version but in reality all these years you treated your father horribly for trying to move on. Yes, he loved your mother but he knew he couldn’t take care of you and your brother alone and his current wife was a delight. Even after all these years of your reproach, they still loved you dearly and tried their best to keep in touch. 

As the years progressed you ignored your father’s advances on fixing this damaged relationship but he kept trying. You couldn’t understand why your brother had forgiven him but you couldn't. Maybe because you refuse to acknowledge you were in the wrong in wanting your father to cope the same way as you did. So if you were miserable he should be too.

This year he had invited you all to his home once again for the holidays. He knew you spent it with your Husband’s family but it never hurt to try. Whenever you didn’t answer his emails, letters, or fax he’d resort to Hyuck who’d only reply with: ‘I’ll let her know.’ Knowing full well the answer will always be no.

Donghyuck never blamed you for trying to stay away from your father. He saw how Mark’s own relationship with his was and he didn’t want to push you either. All he could do was stay by your side and offer you comfort despite not agreeing with you. At least he knew his family would always produce warmth and love for his loved ones.

Soon enough screaming from outside took everyone’s focus. Magui knew it was her husband and son; greeting them ever so lovingly and kissing their cheeks as a welcome; her face lit up in joy. 

Maybe in another universe this could be you and Hyuck. Maybe.

“So?” The older male spoke with a gruff voice, hand turning to the three of you sitting on the couch as he took his spot on the recliner chair his wife sat on earlier. Presumably none of you were sitting there by the time he arrived. “Their tire popped right outside.” Words came out choppy while chewing on a piece of potato, making sure it was well cooked. 

“Chivi go change it out, get one of your spares.” Magui ordered her son who stood with no hesitation. Cocking her head towards her son while looking at your husband; he stood up to follow him, pulling you with him in the process. Not trusting to leave you alone with Mark even when there were eyes all over.

You began freezing the instant you crossed the threshold, your jacket doing nothing to warm you. You didn’t complain much. In a way you did prefer being with him for the time being, still feeling awkward around the older couple back inside.

“Ah. Yeah… Horrible burst.” The one called ‘Chivi’ speaks, raising his eyebrows while releasing a small laugh. With a flashlight he pointed at how horribly ripped the rubber was, flaps barley hanging close together. “My spares are used up and old themselves so I recommend you change it as soon as shops open again and get a new one. It’ll last you a good few weeks but it’s best to be cautious. Are you okay with that?”

Anything was okay than staying stranded in a small town nearing the middle of nowhere. All he wanted to do was get to the home, shower, and rest for the remainder of the night. He was exhausted and hungry, he wanted a break.

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine. How much would it be?” Haechan nods exasperatedly, hand reaching for his wallet but Chivi stops him. “Nothing! Actually, can you go get me a pack of tortillas and a large bottle of coke? I forgot to get them and ma’s gonna kill me if she finds out.” He laughs, finding this comedic. 

You let out a giggle yourself. After waiting a good 10-20 minutes and night had finally caught up to you, all this family asked for was the essentials to their dinner. It may be the simplest of requests but you found the family endearing perhaps because you were still fixated on the fact that in another life you too could’ve had this sweet family with Donghyuck.

“Sure, no problem.” He heard your voice for the first time this night, smiling at the confirmation. He handed Hyuck the keys to his truck, rushing you both while giving directions to the nearest grocery store that seemed to be 15 minutes away if you went straight ahead. 

When arriving the both of you got the items rapidly with barely any exchange of words, exhaustion weighing down both of you. Besides their requests both you and Hyuck opted to get them a cake. It was minimal and perhaps the most random thing to give but you wanted to show your gratitude to the family in case they didn’t take payment for their help.

On the way back, he cracked the window open letting the cold air in, making you turn to him a little peeved. “Cold?” He taunts, tongue pushing against his cheek before chuckling. “Very. Feel.” Taking his hand onto yours, Hyuck pretended to shudder at the contact of your cold skin but didn't let go. 

“We finally have some time to ourselves.” He deviates, holding your hand against your thighs which you covered with a blanket you were able to get out of the car before leaving. “Yeah, I suppose so.” At least the first night out without any argument and ill words thrown at each other besides your make up anniversary dinner. 

From time to time he’d turn to you, seeing as you watched the trees blur away but focused on how beautiful you looked. The way your lips shined from the lip balm, your nose with the faintest hint of blush from the cold, and the way your eyelashes batted against your cheeks whenever you blinked.

If it wasn’t because of the darkness, he’d think you’re glowing. You didn’t look as miserable and dull as you did months ago and before Mark’s arrival. That only made him feel guilty and incensed; being aware that his best friend has been able to liven up your life. Just Mark and not him: your husband. 

Haechan’s hand begins to smoothen out the creases of your sweatpants, his hand progressively getting higher on your thigh enough to make you feel a tingling ache between your legs. His hand became warm enough that it almost felt like you didn’t have cloth between you two and he was directly caressing your skin.

“What are you doing, Hyuckie?” your head rolled to face him, sultry eyes begging him to not stop even if your voice tried to act like it. “I never got to fully taste you that night, princess.” A smile crept on your face as his hand inside your sweatpants, pushing away the fabric of your underwear. 

There was always sweetness and comfort in the way he called you said nickname. You always surrendered under him whenever he said the word. If only he knew the effect it had on you, he’d exploit it to have you eating from his palm.

“We can’t—” You choked up, his fingers pushing through your cavern, enveloping them with your warmth. He held a smirk on his face, biting his inferior lip to repress a mischievous chuckle. “Not here…” You moan, he curled the digits once reaching as deep as he could, slowly moving them within you. 

“We can’t fuck in someone else’s car.” An airy breath left your lips, panting the while he continued to move his fingers, tips gracing your g-spot. He knew your body well, no one but him. 

“Why not?” He whines, fingers leaving your body and making you cry from emptiness. His hand reaches his plump lips, smothering them with your essence as if it was lip balm, licking it off after seconds and rejoicing from joy at the taste he longed for. 

Your eyelids fluttered at the image, feeling tears well up on your waterline. “Lay your blanket in the back, we can there.” He sucks on his ring finger, biting at the skin, teeth dancing across the flesh to leave behind a red trail before drying them off on his neck. 

In your seconds of contemplation his phone rang angrily inside his pocket; removing his attention from you. You wouldn’t deny that it bothered you, it had ruined the mood and both of you couldn’t ignore it as your pager kept buzzing when the calls went unanswered. 

It felt like Deja Vu for the one on the other end.

“Mark–” “Mark.”

Hyuck shakes his head with a chuckle, not surprised that even when gone he’d interrupt another intimate moment. “We’re taking too long apparently.” Turning to look at his disappointed face while he sped off to the house; you couldn’t help but feel his frustration. He didn’t talk after that, leaving the reminder silent. 

On arrival you took it upon yourself to break that silence, cupping his cheek into your cold hands making him look at you. “When we get home, okay?” You kiss him, easing his irritation. He nodded in agreement, his own hand on top of yours and pulling you closer to him to deepen it.

He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, you parted them to give him access and when his free hand traveled under your shirt; your pager buzzed again causing him to laugh into the kiss. This time bitterness won. 

“Let’s just go.” He sighs, unbuckling and rushing out the truck. You shared his sentiment, picking at your lips on the way inside the house; his hand holding yours tightly. 

The four inside turned to the creak of the door, desperate hunger slapped on their faces. “There was a long line, sorry.” Your husband excused, handing them the still warm tortillas and soda bottle. 

“Sit. Eat Before you all leave.” Magui offers; a warm smile on her face while serving her son first. The three of you didn’t want to burden the family any longer but they insisted until you all agreed. 

While conversation was made and you all enjoyed the meal after extensive hours of unwilling starvation, you all finally bid your goodbyes and thanked them again for their hospitality. In a matter of seconds that brief encounter was gone but the experience will always stay.

The remaining two hours were spent in complete silence considering you knocked out as soon as you got in the car and Mark held resentment for you not answering and crossing that threshold with swollen lips letting him know what you two were truly doing. Donghyuck himself was tired and didn’t have it in him to throw jabs at the older male in the passenger’s seat (both of them convincing you to just sleep in the back until you arrived).

Around midnight you all had arrived. The scenery was familiar to Mark, enough that he sat up straight to analyze every architectural detail of the house. From the geometrical protruding walls, huge clear windows, and the creaking play set that had given him many burns going down the slide as a child. 

This was Mark’s— his father’s beach house. The same house his father banned him from years ago after one of their petty arguments. One neither could recall anymore but till this day they still remained angry.

He wanted to be glad that he was staying here as a way to stick it to his dad but knowing the man gave Hyuck access when he never gave it to anyone, not even his favorite child, made his blood boil. What had he done for his friend to gain his father’s trust till this day?

“Can you get some of the bags while I take her in?” Donghyuck interrupts his thoughts. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he gets to have you and his father’s admiration. Hyuck didn’t have a bad relationship with his own father. Why was he so adamant on taking his dad too? He was already brainwashing you by the way you’ve been acting so what else could he take from him?

Mark bitterly took in the items, throwing them all against the well kept couch. While your husband tucked you in (occasionally hearing your sleepy complaints about wanting to sleep), Hyuck returned quickly to help Mark unload. Stepping foot in the living room, he watched his friend’s actions.

The older looked vexed, gripping tightly to old framed family pictures. He appeared in some, miserable as one could be and the ones he ever smiled in he was a toddler with no recollection of ever loving his father. 

“Neat, huh?” Haechan interrupted, extending his arms to signal at the house. Mark hummed, not lifting his gaze taking his own bag. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this house? That the family friend was my dad?” He questions minimizing the distance between the two. 

The younger shrugs giving no importance, “Thought we’d spend the last few days where we always had fun.” He smiles almost sincerely. It’s true that Hyuck wanted to spend the end of the year at a place full of fond memories but after what Mark has done, tormenting him a little won’t hurt. 

Mark sighs, pressing his lips tightly together while nodding; leaving his friend alone in the living room as he makes his way to his old bedroom. The only unkempt and dirty one in the entire house. 

Early morning Donghyuck had woken up with a cold spot beside him that belonged to you. His mind raced with ill thoughts and fury was consuming him. He called out for you but gained no response. That began to elicit scenarios in which if he stood and went to Mark’s room you’d be there.

Shaking his head to not get ahead of himself, he calls out your name again, putting on his sandals to roam around the house and search for you. He searched upstairs, in the kitchen, the living room, extra bedrooms, and even considered barging into Mark’s. But he didn’t want to see it with his own eyes. He didn’t want to see you two in anything compromising and ruin his sanity. 

Instead he went downstairs to continue his search, aiding his thumping heart from the ache of the ‘what if’. If there’s something Hyuck keeps in mind from all the things you’ve said it’s: ‘Who seeks, finds.’ And he didn’t want to find, at least not yet. He was glad that when stepping foot in the warm lower layer, he found you floating about in the grand indoors pool.

His heart relaxed as his face muscles did, sighing in relief to know his suspicions were wrong. How glad he was to be wrong for once. Making his way to the edge of the pool, he rolls up his sleeping pants, removing the sandals and dipping his feet in the warm water.

It took you a few seconds to realize he had arrived but seeing his face unconsciously made a smile appear on your face. “Morning,” You coo, swimming his way. He returns the smile basking in the sweetness of the moment. 

If this had happened months ago you’d glare at him before deciding to get out of his presence. You would’ve never spoken to him in this way months ago but now you were acting like everything was behind you. Whether it’s your own guilt or being tired of the cycle, he was going to appreciate the small things.

“Morning, princess.” He lets out with a groggy voice, caressing your cheek the instant you get close. “Slept well? I didn’t want to wake you, you looked really tired yesterday.” He musters a nod, yawning away his remaining sleep.

“Is it cold out? Why aren’t you at the beach instead?” You shrug, swiping away droplets from your face. “I’ll get ready and we can go if you want. There’s this secluded area Mark and I would always go. I think you’ll like it, this time it’ll be just us.” He winks, standing to shake off the water that clung to his legs. You nodded, watching him make his way out to leave you in solitude again. 

You two hadn’t been this close in the longest time and it was concerning how sweet he was. Even when you two ‘made’ peace and started to act like nothing was ever wrong he didn’t go out of his way to be this loving. The most came to occasional kisses on the cheek and holding hands but he had taken a drastic turn that night he announced his long break.

That night had shifted things for everyone and you couldn’t get past your uneasiness. You knew it was because of Mark, it was obvious in the way he spoke to his friend that Hyuck saw something and he didn’t like it. You weren’t stupid, you can see the way they look at each other compared to earlier in his stay. 

For the most part they always tried to defy or avoid each other and the times they acted like best friends, the moment would be ruined when either made a sly remark regarding you. You wanted to believe Hyuck did it for the kindness of his heart and not to brag but that doubt won’t leave your mind anytime soon, not until Mark’s final day and you decide if you’ll join him.

But in the meantime you’ll enjoy the affection Hyuck’s giving you. Despite spending the most intimate time with Mark he had dialed down on his sweetness and allowed his libido to take over. Sure occasionally he’d act like the sweet boy from earlier but he was a man nonetheless and your cute walks around the countryside turned to him taking you in the back of the car because he couldn’t hold off much longer until getting home. 

You liked Mark. You held him dear to you, he was still that sweet boy you met half a year into your relationship with Donghyuck but he barely acted like him anymore. He was animalistic and possessive, wanting to keep you near him at all times and you didn’t know how to process that. You understood his love for you to an extent but the man you first slept with that afternoon wasn’t the same one that held you roughly against a sink just two days ago.

Not to mention that aside from his libido he became a clingy cheese ball that if you spent too much time with him, you’d scream how much of a bore he became inside your head.

Minutes later, Hyuck had come out with the remaining items you needed, taking your hand in his and dragging you out the dock that led directly to the beach. With the exception that he took a detour between large boulders until you both ended up by the beach completely isolated from anyone else. 

The view was beautiful; for miles on end all you could see was the swaying dull cyan waves, clashing against the sand and whatever boulders were closest. Walking a little further up to the sand, you set the blanket as Hyuck the remaining items. Both settled beside each other waiting for the chilliness to calm down before dipping in the sea.

As the minutes of silence passed it was to be noted how estranged you two became to one another. What in past years would have been multiple conversations in by now had become subtle glances and shy giggles when caught. Almost like the beginning of your courtship. To anyone seeing you two; they ought to think it was a cute occurrence, but to you both— it was eating you alive seeing how dull things became.

“Are you cold?”

He breaks the ice, opening a container of strawberries, taking a bite of the red fruit. “A little.” You confess, looking from him to the tides that purposely spray you. He took the opportunity and came closer, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to him; enveloping you in an embrace that in fact was warming you.

He hums, resting his head on your shoulder basking in your scent. Glad that for once in a long time he couldn’t smell his friend on you. “Are we staying here the three months?” You question, hoping that initiated a type of conversation.

“You don’t like it here?” “I do. I just want to know what plans you have.”

He lets out a sigh through his nose, fingers dancing across your arms.

“You know I don’t like saying my plans out loud. Your grandma scared me off.” He chuckles, allowing his lips to grace your skin as if it was an accident, creating goosebumps; Donghyuck can’t help but grin.

The most you could do was bring his hand up to your lips, placing a tender kiss on his soft skin. Feeling your lips on his flesh made his heart flutter, becoming warm until he saw a familiar accessory wrapped around your wrist. That beauty he felt had dwindled in a matter of seconds.

Donghyuck recalled seeing a similar one on Mark’s wrist just last month. That same shade of blue that faded with the pass of water and beads began wearing out. For someone that’s spent weeks analyzing you two, he was beginning to beat himself up over this small object.

“You’ve been getting closer to Mark, haven't you?” He takes your hand, bracelet in view. You tensed until he showed the key element. A hum ended up leaving your lips, nodding whilst nervously teasing him.

“I stole your best friend.”

“But he’s my best friend.”

His voice may be playful but his heart ached. 

“Maybe come home early and you can have him back.” You smile mockingly, turning so he could see it. His hand drops from your wrist, landing on your thigh. “I don’t think that’s a problem anymore.” 

You knew what he insinuated but you weren’t going to let that ruin this small peace you are feeling now. “You know we miss you, right?” Lies. You and him knew it was a lie but if it wasn’t for the tone that delivered such words, it would’ve consumed him.

Instead he found himself biting his lower lip, your sultry eyes scanning his face and feeling his hand inch further up the exposed skin of your thigh. “How much?” He asks, face getting closer to yours, enough to smell the pool’s bleach in your hair and the coconut lip balm.

“Hyuckie, we can’t here…” His fingers went beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms, intruding your walls carefully just like last night. This time there was no reason for them to be interrupted. “You said we could when we got home,” He kisses the shell of your earlobe, words falling hot against your flesh.

His lips began a trail from there onto the crook of your neck, nipping lightly and leaving a warm sting. “I haven’t been able to feel you fully for so long, I’m surprised you’re not dry.” You felt yourself gulp at his words, beginning to pant from the adrenaline of both this rendezvous and the possible meaning of his words.  

He fully separated himself from you, laying you on the blanket before hovering over your body like a few nights ago. The exception being that this time he delved into a deep and animalistic kiss. His lips felt desperate against yours, both your tongues immediately waltzing with each other. Holding onto his neck and torso to keep some control.

“Won’t someone see?” “It’s private property, princess.”

Donghyuck was drunk with pent up arousal from months of no contact and the irritation of what you and his best friend have done behind his back. You were his and Mark was his best friend. Two separate things and he was not going to allow either of you to merge into one and leave him behind. 

Your nails softly clawed his skin, leaving red trails to indicate how much he was pushing. You didn’t dislike this, in fact his lascivious side has always been what you enjoy. He groans against your mouth from the sting of your actions, biting your lower lip to elicit a cry of your own.

Both your pained moans turned to pleasure giggles; he licked your lower lip before both your tongues connected and his hands untied your bikini top. Sliding from your skin and letting him feel your perked nipples against his own.

You felt sensitive under him, it wasn’t helping that his hand traveled between the both of you to undo the knots of your bottoms as well. Pushing off the fabric to let him rub circles on your clit without any restraints. Your eyelids fluttered at the contact, pulling him even closer to what he already was. 

“Not so shy now, huh?”  He laughs against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before leaving a trail of kisses from them to your neck. The instant he penetrated you with his fingers, he bit your neck causing a pleasured yelp to leave your lips. “Oh, you dick.” You moan, moving your head to give him more access.

Haechan laughed at your words, continuing his abuse on your flesh and making sure those juvenile markings were dark and visible. He could do this to you and proudly. Only him. 

Delving in the pleasure of his long fingers moving at a gratifying pace, you urge him to add another one in which he complied, scissoring and stretching them within you to continue hearing your moans. You loved his fingers. He was the right amount of rough that made your legs shake with even the least amount of effort. 

Curling his digits; the deeper they were within you, the louder your moans became. It didn’t help that his aggressive praises made your head spin. The likes of: 

“Your cunt was made for me.” 

“No one will ever know how to fuck you this good with just their fingers.” 

and “If you’re shaking like this with my fingers, I can’t wait until you’re full of my cock and cum.” 

All of which made your eyes roll to the back of your head with the imagery of what that was like.

But you weren’t one to let him just talk without action. “Then fill me right now. Bruise me with no end.” Your eyes met his, a thin amount of tears threatening to slip. The same sultry eyes and voice defied and taunted him waiting for consequences. 

He didn’t grant you the satisfaction of a primary orgasm, instead he pulled his fingers out to leave you aching and whining from emptiness. His body separated from yours and that breeze he protected you from earlier attacks while he removed his swimming trunks. 

Sitting up to look at him, your chest felt warm seeing his hardened dick spring in fervor almost as if it had a mind of its own when in your presence. You too were glad to see it; after so long and in this state, the one thing you wanted was to have it in you no matter what entrance. 

And like a famished species, you crawl your way towards him. Holding onto the back of his thighs to pull him closer to you. The action made him stumble but he laughed at your desperation. Hand going to your hair, threading his fingers through it and holding your head firmly to look at him. 

“Want a taste?” He takes a hold of his heavy sex, taunting you by slapping it against your cheeks and watching your agape mouth chase after it. You nodded hurriedly, leaving behind any shame and pride just to taste him once more. 

Pulling your head closer and watching your mouth open more, Haechan lets his tip grace your lips before pushing your head away. Eliciting a pained whine; he crouched down to your level, his tight hold on your head not leaving and making you look directly in his eyes. 

“No. You don’t deserve this much.” His words were low and full of hatred, his eyes boring holes onto your own. If hell was real, you had just seen it through them. 

Dropping his grip from your hair, he helped you get on all fours. You could feel both of you sinking further into the sand and the blanket doing its best to not allow it to get near you two but his rugged actions weren’t helping the poor thing. 

Instead once you were positioned before him, he pushed your top half further down, enough for your head to lay on your arms and your lower half lifted to his crotch. As much as he didn’t want to grant you any more pleasure, Hyuck couldn’t hold himself back when he saw your glistening cunt under the sun, begging him to taste you. 

Your legs spread enough for him to see every crevice full of the arousal he caused. Fuck it. This was for him, not for you and he wanted to grant himself the pleasure of tasting you again.

Just when you were going to whine and beg for him to fuck you, you felt his lips attach to your cunt making you moan louder than you have in a while. He grunted at your reaction; it was music to his ears, hot enough to travel to his angry cock and twitch with precum spurting out. 

He felt your legs shake, not even his tight hold on them could make you stop. Haechan’s tongue swiped from your entrance to your clit, collecting your juices there and sucking on the bud to take them into his mouth. Proudly swallowing what you made for him. He hummed directly against your cunt, the warm vibration sending you overboard. 

“Hyuckie…” You moaned that sweet name again, his cock twitching at your cracking voice. He didn’t want to succumb to you, after all you’ve put him through the last thing he wanted to do was please you but damn that would happen regardless when fingering and eating you out was his favorite thing to do.

His nails dug into the skin of your ass cheeks, harsh grip eliciting a yelp as he continued to delve into the taste of your arousal. A delicacy if you ask him. Tongue teasing your entrance to the point just enough of the tip penetrated you.

You tried your best in touching yourself or at least rubbing him off with your feet but he always pushed you away, grunting at your disturbance. Feeling his tongue lap at your folds, circling around your clit, and sucking on it harshly then softly. Becoming a pattern that throws you into a frenzy.

Feeling your stomach coil and your legs start to give up on you, you begged him to just finish you off. To let you cum since he hadn’t done so when he was fingering you but he didn’t budge. Instead he continued his assaults on your sex; his face had pushed further in and you could feel how his soft rosy cheeks collected your cum on them. 

You wanted to see his face badly. To see how you’ve stained it and glisten in the sunlight. If he already looks beautiful, you believe your essence will make him even more so.  

“I didn't want to treat you and look where you have me. You’re so lucky I love you.” He grunts, laying his tongue flat on your cunt. You laugh at his statement but hear it become a moan at that. His warm, soft, velvety tongue licking away your own mockery. 

You feel his hand come flat on your ass, whipping your head to look at him but his cold glare didn’t allow for any words to leave your mouth, not even the moan that was product of his harsh treatment. “Are you close?” He grins, separating himself from between your legs. Fingers collecting your arousal and pushing it into his mouth.

Nodding feverishly, you bite your lower lip. Watching him thoroughly suck on his nimble fingers, not leaving a drop behind. Your breathing was labored and you could feel sweat accumulate where his hands had been holding you; you were no longer cold. Donghyuck’s actions alone elicited shaky moan after moan but what caused them to come with no end was how beautiful he looked behind you.

His caramel locks stuck to his forehead, perspiration threatening while his honey skin glowed under the sun’s rays. The same rays that made the lower half of his face glisten with the layer of your cum he was graciously licking at. The longer you looked at him, the longer you noticed how his lips were swollen red and his fingers pruning up.

He didn’t lie when he said he loved your taste.

What you intended to let out as a moan came out as a cry. Feeling your heart heavy and needy but most of all your stomach felt sick. Twisting and turning in hopes that he was to finally fill you up like you had asked. 

You were also needy and the image behind you made that worse; you felt desperate. The kind where you could throw a tantrum for not getting what you want and what you want is his cock to your hilt. Letting his frustrations out on you.

“Is my baby needy? Are you that needy?” He mocked. Pouting his lips to grip your hair again, lifting your head slightly before leaning in and pulling you to him. You nodded with a whine, chasing his lips but even that he denied until you sighed in frustration.

“Tell me how much you want it.” He pecked your lips, taunting you every time he pulled away. “Tell me how much you need and want my cock…” His grip tightened on your hair, a cry leaving your lips against his own. He swallowed it, tongues connecting instantly in a sloppy kiss. 

“Only mine.”

He growls in a low voice against your lips. Glaring directly into your eyes with the tightest grip on your hip and hair. And though he searched for any guilt from you, he was met with your own angry glares, getting fed up with his elongated foreplay.

“I do want it. I’ve wanted it for so long but I was not going to give you the satisfaction of touching me just yet. Call this your actual Christmas present.” 

Your voice filled with its own pent-up irritation, glaring at him the longer he kept you from feeling good just because of his jealousy fits. Here he could see you hadn’t put it all past you but instead ignoring it until he fucked your brains out. He didn’t know whether to laugh or continue his bitterness but what he did know was that his dick was hard and hurting from his own restraint. 

“And I beg that you release all your frustrations out right now because my abstinence better be worth it.” You let out through gritted teeth, eliciting a bitter and angry chuckle from him. “Because one of us has to be loyal.” Your pupils shake, enlarging the second he releases his grip and harshly pushes your head away. 

Your labored breath became louder every second he shuffled behind you. His tight grip on your hip pulling you towards him whilst his tip rubbed against your delicate cunt. For a moment he halted any of his actions, the background noises becoming overwhelming and your throat betraying you by releasing silent cries. At least only you could hear them.

But he took that silence away, letting strings of spit slide from his tongue to your entrance and using it as extra lubricant before penetrating you. He was different from Mark. While Mark was long, Haechan was girthy and with just the first few centimeters in, you could feel the stretch his fingers hadn’t granted you.

Those earlier cries became louder, struggling to cover your mouth the longer he pushed himself in you. It wasn’t painful but it felt foreign . It had been months since he’s been in you that your body was beginning to forget how he felt. While he hadn’t moved just yet, his pretty groans became the source of your satisfaction. 

It didn’t take him long to start moving. His strokes were slow but long, rugged if you will but they knocked pretty disgruntled noises out of you and that was enough for you both. 

While he thrusted into you, his hands moved from your hips to your waist all the way to your breast. His warm hands enveloping them, massaging and squeezing softly.

His hands were soft in comparison to Mark’s that became calloused the longer he continued with harsher techniques in his projects. They’re also warmer, was it because of the sun coming out or his body temperature; you found yourself to rejoice in his touch.

In that instance his thrust became harder, fingers toying and twisting your nipples before pinching them. First softly then hard enough to elicit a masochistic cry. “Hyuckie!” You yelp in pleasure, hair covering your pretty face. He lets one of his hands fall from your tit, reaching for your hair and pushing it away just to see how your features contorted for him.

Just like you enjoyed seeing his soiled face, he liked seeing your expressions from pleasure.

“Scream my name all you want. No one’s here but you and I!” Donghyuck laughs, kissing your sweaty skin with each of his thrusts. But it wasn’t just you two, there will always be Mark.

Having woken up minutes prior; Mark’s habit of searching for you early in the morning led him to tip-toe around the house searching for any sign of you — and your husband to avoid problems — but when he had no luck even in the pits of the basement, he knew there was only two options at hand.

One: Hyuck and you abandoned him for the grocery shopping you both had mentioned in the car ride. Or two: his dear best friend had taken you to the beach. And given the car and keys were where they had been placed last night, the clear choice was the latter. 

Not giving it much thought and only pulling the sweater he tossed on the couch the night prior, Mark groggily made his way behind the house. Dragging his feet and blocking the incoming sun rays with his hand. Struggling through branches and pesky rocks; Mark knew he’d be disappointed the second he saw you two but he didn’t expect to be heart broken.

At most Mark expected to see you two hold tightly like you had been when arriving to Magi’s house or holding hands while walking along the shoreline but here he was hiding behind a boulder, freezing from the shade and breeze, and witnessing his best friend fucking you. 

Donghyuck no longer held you from behind, instead he had helped you onto your back. With one leg up on his shoulder and another around his waist, the position made him go deeper than before. All Mark could focus on was your moans. They were so genuine and raw that it broke him when he heard you utter: “Fuck, I missed you...”

He didn’t notice when his mouth had gone agape or when his chest began feeling heavy but Mark felt sick and no one could fix that. It didn’t help that Hyuck took your lips with his, ensuing in a passionate kiss that held both of your anger and desire whilst spewing vile on how you were his and his alone. The only thing holding him up is that you didn’t confirm his statement.

Mark wanted nothing more than to stomp where you two laid and tear Hyuck apart from you. To feel his clenched fist come in contact with his perfect cheeks and not stop until that crimson liquid he’s always been scared of told him to stop. He wanted to keep his best friend away from you and tell him to never come near you again. Scream how you were his and his alone— just like Hyuck was claiming for himself.

But he couldn’t move. His feet had sunk in the wet sand and his legs felt weak. He only had the willpower to move a few more steps and it was either his impulses or head back home and slump in the comfort of his room. Yes, Mark has decided to wallow his sorrows privately.

With a knot in his throat, Mark dared not look behind and instead walked as quickly as his wobbly legs allowed him. His hope hadn’t dwindled but it had been hurt.

While Mark tried maintaining his composure, not allowing his world to come crashing around him for the second time this year, both you and your husband remained clueless. Too enthralled with the pleasure and satisfaction you both granted each other.

Holding off for months was beginning to catch up with Donghyuck and it showed with the pained cries he’d spill whenever he felt himself close. Each thrust he gave, you could feel spurts of precum shoot into you and slide against your walls, just for them to coat his cock and push it further in. 

You had lied about your abstinence but sex was sex and you had been craving his touch for a while. You just had to settle for Mark for the time being. Whimpers and moans escaped your lips, begging him to swallow them every time you’d pull him by the hair, connecting your lips in sloppy kisses. 

Amused by your reaction, Haechan laughed into the kiss, teeth nipping your lips and occasionally tongue before caressing it with his own to soothe the sting. He wouldn’t let the kiss last for too long, opting to see you whine from the separation. It’s the least suffering he could cause you in the meantime. 

“Close?” He questions, his palm holding your upper thigh close to his waist. By this angle his pelvic bone began creating friction against your clit. Fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, mouth leaving a trail of kisses from your lips to neck and chest. 

His teeth teased your nipples, scraping them along the warm flesh to deliver a sharp bite that resulted in you crying masochistically, pushing his head further to have him do it again. Your free hand scratched his back, digging into his flesh and moaning along his pained groans. 

Even in sex you two had to hurt each other.

“Finish me off, Hyuckie. I can’t last longer and I know neither can you…” You mewl, tugging his hair to let him know you wanted his attention. He looked up at you through lashes, moisture clinging to them, perhaps in the process his eyes watered. 

Words wouldn’t leave his pretty plump lips though. Instead he nodded, leaning in to capture your lips between his, rushing his thrusts and making them rougher. You liked feeling him stretch you out more, feeling him squeeze in as the perfect fit and feel his tip kiss your walls. Coating them with his cum was your favorite part out of it all. 

A few more thrusts and heavily passionate kisses, your walls began clamping around him. Causing poor Donghyuck to feel sensitive at the pressure. It wasn’t long until he came; thus when he felt your legs shake around him and your grasp tightened, he knew his ecstasy was near. 

Crying and whimpering against his lips; your eyes shutting harshly at that tight knot in your lower stomach. Hyuck’s thrusts were getting sloppy, within seconds you felt him at your hilt and you couldn’t hold off much longer. That knot had loosened completely and sent you overboard, gushing around him with a loud moan, holding him for dear life against you; small praises and cooing leaving your lips.

“You know my body so well, I could have you like this forever…”

Your voice was the catalyst. With your heavy panting against his lips, Hyuck didn’t hold off anymore and allowed himself to come. You along with him whimpered at the feeling of being filled up with his load; a wave of pleasure washing through you both until it faded and all that was left was a tingling sensation that didn’t leave your bodies.

Opting to stay in that position for a bit longer, both your breathing had calmed down. Your nails didn’t rake harshly against him and his teeth no longer nipped at your skin sadistically. Now the kisses were soft to avoid speaking. Both knew if any words spilled, they’d leave an ache.

The minutes passed, all that was heard were waves crashing against each other and the boulders. It was warmer now and perhaps much later, enough for your friend back in the house to be awake. Hyuck was the one to take the initiative in getting off of you and cleaning you off with some of the water he packed. 

He didn’t speak and neither did you, the most you could muster was to look at him in silence, his soft touches creating a complex feeling in your heart. At that moment you too wanted to just leave and go back inside. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” “No. I went straight to the pool.”

He hums, putting his trunks back on and stuffing the towels in the beach bag. “Mark is probably awake. We can get something on the way to the market if he hasn’t made anything yet.” His voice was hoarse, with some laced pain on it. You gave him a side smile, tying back the swim suit and placing a beach dress over. 

“He’d smoke a pack before eating breakfast. Sometimes I have to force him to have a proper meal.” You giggle, shaking off the sand from the blanket you two laid upon minutes prior. Haechan forces out a laugh, his smile quickly fades.

 Right. You took care of Mark. 

Donghyuck had expected this experience to make him feel better about his marriage. He wanted to think this was meant to settle the peace between you both but instead he felt worse. His chest felt warm and heavy and his eyes threatened to spill tears. Some had during the act but he did his best to not weep. 

He fully understood the marriage turning this way was his fault, you had told him so many times even insinuated it way before he met the catering girl but that didn’t hurt as much. He was comfortable enough with how things went on between you two before Mark arrived. At least if it meant that it was him the one you’d think about. The only one you’d both love and hate.

What did make him feel this way was hearing you come into the room after 3 AM and smell like his best friend. How often you spend time with Mark and enjoy his company. And worst of all is that you hadn’t put anything behind.

 The reason you had been civil with Donghyuck was simply because Mark was there to satiate your needs. It had only gotten to this point of accepting his touch because you were starting to get bored of Mark just like you had with him not too early into the marriage. Or so he thinks, that is was your actions are making both believe at least.

There were only a few steps left to reach the top. While Hyuck was contemplating this bond, you seemed the most aloof. There was some brightness to you and a careless attitude. On one of those steps you turned to look at him, his face was getting red and you knew it wasn’t from the sun. Something was bothering him.

It’s not like you cared to know but that gloominess was interfering with your relaxation. Stopping on your tracks and pulling him along, Hyuck throws you a confused look. You didn’t say anything yet, you simply smiled at him softly and caressed his warm cheek. He eased into your touch, feeling your soft fingers dance across his taut skin.

“I love you, Donghyuck.” 

As much as he’s yearned hearing those words, this time he doesn’t know how much to believe them anymore. 

“I love you too.”

They came out in a whisper, one you swallowed upon connecting your lips one last time that moment. He didn’t want to think much about it. There was a chance you were lying or that like him, you loved him in a baneful way. 

Yes, that is most plausible.

He wasn’t the only one to hear your profession of love. Poor Mark had lounged around the back porch with a pack of cigarettes to his side. Like said before it wasn’t too long until you two reached the top and though you didn’t intend for Mark to hear or see everything he has this morning— it just happened.

Reaching the top by the time Mark let out a puff of smoke in desperation; a sigh at most. Smelling that familiar stench, you both turned to see him lying upon the white outdoors couch his father had decorated with. 

“Morning.” Hyuck breaks the ice, giving his friend a tender smile that you mimic. Mark didn’t dare look at you both for too long, nodding in return while taking a sip of his drink. “Morning; Where were you guys?” He questions with a little pep in his words, trying his best to hide any negative emotion.

“Wanted to swim for a bit but the water was cold. Hey, did you have breakfast already? We can catch something to eat on the road before we get everything.” Mark lifts his cigarette with a smile before taking another drag, both you and Hyuck looking at each other remembering your conversation.

Hyuck chuckles with a nod. “Alright, gonna shower and we can leave after everyone’s ready, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” “Sounds good.”

He let go of your hand that second, not waiting for you to follow behind as he rushed to the bedroom’s bathroom. Despite the interaction, his feelings were still a painful turmoil and if he looked at either of you for too long in the moment, he’d end up breaking in front of both. 

Locking the door, Hyuck looks into the mirror before him. The bags beneath his eyes looked darker than before and his face had started to sink in. He didn’t look ill but he did look tired and sad. His cheeks weren’t as beautifully round in the time being and he knew that wasn’t good. After all, his round jumpy cheeks are your favorite thing about him. Maybe if he gained them back your ‘i love you’s’ would have real meaning to them.

He couldn’t contain it anymore. In the instance his thin fingers touched his equally thin face and let out that cry he’s been holding in this entire time. His tears felt boiling hot against his skin, the rivers of salt water wounding his face but that ache in chest was worse.

Donghyuck knew he still loved you. Hell, if he loved you through all the times you had called him useless, the times you avoided him during periods he felt like hell, and witnessed the times you made your own father cry by the way you treated him; then why wouldn’t he love you now that he accepted you yourself had an affair with his best friend? His brother. 

He wondered how much he loved Mark too. Mark the boy he spent years of childhood with all up to college when both parted ways. The boy he’d let stay at his house every time his father reprimanded him for the smallest things even if they weren’t a mistake. 

Mark was his wedding witness, the boy who approved of you when you two started dating and told him you were the perfect match. The boy who helped him find the perfect ring and arrangements. Mark and him have experienced many things together but sharing a lover is not one he thought they ever would. Especially not one he’s tied to by law and heart. As painful as it is.

Donghyuck bit into his fist before doing so into a towel, his silent sobs absorbed by the cloth. This was the best he could do without having you two hear him.

And while your husband is breaking to pieces in the shared bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. Upon getting a water bottle, you felt the touch of two warm hands on your hips pulling you close to his body and turning you around to face him.

Mark didn’t show much expression, instead he pressed you against the cold steel doors. Looking at each other for a few seconds, he took initiative in connecting your lips. It shouldn’t have taken you by surprise the way it did but slowly you began to ease into his touch. You could taste the mixture of his cigarette and the orange juice he had been drinking.

Holding onto his shoulders, Mark’s own hands began to caress your body. One hand rested on your waist and the other went underneath your dress. He felt the warmth between your thighs. His fingers begin to caress the skin and make a silent gasp leave your lips. He took that opportunity to snake his tongue in your mouth. 

By the time he pushed the fabric of your bikini bottoms to the side, his fingers prodded your entrance making your gasp become audible this time. When you were to moan his name, the man before you halted his movement. He separated from the kiss as well, looking at you directly the second he felt the globs of cum cling to his fingers. 

Scooping it, Mark pulled his fingers out looking at them before you. He noticed the dark marks your husband sealed onto your skin. You were panting but there was no sign of regret on your face. Instead he was received with:

“What do you expect? He’s my husband.” 

A threatening smile on your end tried to form but Mark couldn’t produce any words. He felt speechless and too hurt to even say anything. His face held a mixture of disgust, anger, and sadness. 

With the simplest of words, you always manage to hurt them.

“Mark come on,” You call out, trying to get a hold of him but he avoids your touch. You softly scoff at the action but kept trying to at least ease the tension. “Come on, don’t be like that.” 

He didn’t know what to say. Mark knew you were right, Hyuck was your husband but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking any less. All this time he hadn’t mind since you two openly hated each other but the quick change up was affecting him.

“Honey— Oh? What are you guys doing?” 

Hyuck had come out of the restroom once his eyes had depuffed and he looked fine again. By the time he reached the kitchen he saw you two stand close to each other, a tense ambiance surrounding.

Mark threw you one last glance, “Nothing. I’m going to shower.” His voice sounded deeper and with that he walked away and to his own bathroom, leaving you alone with your husband again. Rather than tense, this one was awkward.

“The shower is ready, let’s go.” Haechan’s voice was laced with irritation.

The day you had been looking forward to this entire trip had come: New Year's Eve. The weather was finally thinking about the beach resident’s and decided it would be good to have the last day of the century be sunny all throughout. It may be December but a new millennium deserves a beautiful welcome. 

Despite Mark’s gloomy demeanor, the both of you had been trying all morning to get him out of his room. Every attempt had been a failure and though neither of you showed it, Hyuck was beginning to get annoyed about the ordeal. Specifically your attention getting directed towards the older male. You may have been trying to balance your attention to both men but their selfish demands were making things harder.

“I’ll go try again and if not then I guess we can just go.” You give your husband a side smile, handing him the dishes to dry from your late lunch. He turned the instant they were in his hands, rolling his eyes at your insistence. “Just give him space, it’s the house that’s putting him in that mood. Makes him think too much about his old man.” But he knew his dad wasn’t the only reason he was this temperamental.

A low sigh escapes your lips, walking towards him and enveloping him in a back hug. “I don’t want him to end the year like this.”  Your lips fell onto his neck, warm and soft on the flesh. He hated how much he enjoyed it. He doesn’t say anything, he simply shrugs with a low groan.

Donghyuck himself hadn’t been pleasant after the beach rendezvous, if anything he had gotten distant and silent. He always did this after sex but the worst part is that it drew you towards him in hopes to get more than a few words out of him. To get more affection. His affection.

While in the past he did it out of his selfish ways of obtaining gratification, this time he did it to avoid seeing how worried you had been for Mark. After the shower, you all had lunch in town and even browsed around the area, getting groceries for tonight. But while at it, he didn’t miss your subtle glances towards his friend who trudged behind the two of you. 

If he left you two alone for just a second, he’d come back to the image of you whispering something to Mark who in return said nothing or hummed. It was no different for the remainder of the day whenever he was around but when it was just you two, it seemed like you remembered he was the one you married. 

It’s not that you wanted to comfort them. You just wanted the reassurance that they were still eating from the palm of your hand and their little hissy fits were annoying you. At least for Donghyuck, he didn’t leave your side often and even now he was doing what you wanted him to— just reluctantly. As always. 

As for Mark, he was being a nuisance. He was brooding like a teenager that didn’t get the car he wanted and was taking it out on all of you. Didn’t he understand that you were still married? You have to fill your role once in a while and if he hadn’t been so clingy for the past few months, you probably wouldn’t feel the need to try and get a breath of fresh air with Haechan.

Your worried facade fell the second you got out of Hyuck’s view and walked towards Mark’s bedroom. You didn’t knock, you had gotten used to walking in his room unannounced that he didn’t think about it either when he heard the creaky hinges. 

“Move.” His sprawled limbs unconsciously responded to your words, scooting to one side of the bed and relaxing the second your weight dipped the mattress. All this time you hadn’t crossed the threshold of his bedroom. Compared to the one you and Donghyuck slept in; Mark’s was smaller with a horrid brown carpet and green walls.

His night stands were small of a bright yellow wood that did nothing to look good in the dark room. As ugly as the layout was, there were many trinkets of his childhood. From the multiple baseball lamps, cowboys, toy soldiers, and comics stacked on a desk that complimented the nightstands. 

You’d say the most exciting part were the glowing stars stuck to the ceiling but by now they probably didn’t work anymore. His Poison Girl Friend, Depeche Mode, and Soda Stereo posters were wrinkled and on the brink of falling from the walls. 

In every corner there were noticeable traces of all the years he was able to stay up until the last time his father told him he wasn’t allowed anymore. The most notable was the CD he was listening to now; the soft melody of Sade’s voice unconsciously making him stare intently at you.

‘I gave you all my love, I gave you all that I have inside and you took my love. I keep crying, I keep trying for you. There’ s nothing like you and I, baby…’

“I thought you didn’t like sports.” You smile up at him, scooting closer and closer but he doesn’t budge. His lips don’t move and his eyes tear away from you, glancing quickly at his lamps before looking up at the ceiling. 

With no response and your patience beginning to run out, you turn to him. In a few quick moves your hands encased his face and brought your lips to his, landing a soft kiss against them. As angry as he was, he would never deny you a kiss. His mind, soul, and body took over allowing him to return it, shifting to where it was comfortable. 

His hands took a hold of your waist, holding to you for dear life. His body missed you and it showed with the way he caressed you. His large hands slowly make their way under your shirt, squeezing your sides while his teeth softly nip your lower lip eliciting a gasp granting him access to your mouth and slipping his tongue. 

“You can’t keep doing this…” He moans against your lips, deepening the kiss and bringing your body closer to him. You wanted to ask what he meant but it was quite obvious. Mark didn’t follow up, rather basking in the comfort of your body and mouth. Enjoying the sweet taste of the blueberry parfait you had for lunch, on your tongue. 

He missed this. He missed having you all for himself, having you near him. Today’s kiss felt nothing like that day and as much as the memory pains him, he’s going to enjoy these few minutes. 

His tongue caressed yours one last time before both your lungs decided they needed some relief. Panting when separating, Mark kisses the side of your mouth before admiring your features. “You’re forgetting about me now that he wants to touch you?” His voice was much harsher than he intended but that deep rooted anger seemed to be winning. 

Your smile falters, “Are you still mad at me?” The mixture of annoyance and worry interlacing in your voice. “He’s still my husband, Ma—” He cut you off with a scoff, throwing his head back and opting to lay on his back once again. “So what? Suddenly you care that he is? What about all these months you’ve been with me?” He didn’t dare look at you, he was afraid you’d have that pout that always made him cave.

“Why are you even acting this way all of a sudden? Out of nowhere you two like each other again? Do you want me to remind you how I saw you two the day I arrived at the apartment?” He tried to shut his mouth but it had a brain of its own. Mark was beyond annoyed with your actions and neglect. 

“I guess we just made peace for now.” Your meek response brewed a scowl on his face, shaking his head in response. “What about our plans, y/n? I already told you to go with me. You were so miserable before I got here, do you really want that again? I leave tomorrow. I thought you didn’t want me to leave. Isn’t that why this all started? I’m the only one here for you.”

Mark didn’t seem to hold back any longer. Envy and rage were consuming him the longer he held everything in. He was right, without him, you and Hyuck would probably live like strangers til now with only arguments as communication. 

With a heavy heart and gloom look on your face — hiding your frustration — you come closer to him. Returning that chaste kiss on the corner of his lip and wrapping your arm around him as you lay your head on his chest. “Don’t be that way, Mark. I don’t want to end the year and start a new one with you like this. I’m here now aren’t I?”

Truly you wanted to let out a scoff but your words seemed to do it for him. He was convinced worry had washed upon you. 

“I need you. You know that, right?” “You need me?”

“More than anything.”

You wanted to tell him he was an idiot but you were glad needed you. Yeah, he was now going to use that.

What made it better for him was that Hyuck had just passed by and saw the way you clung to Mark’s body. He was able to see the life drain out of his best friend’s being. His color became dull and his face dropped. You couldn’t hear it but Mark fully heard Haechan’s heart break and stomach drop at the image. 

It was his turn to rub it in his face. 

“What’s going on?” His shaky voice made you separate from Mark, sitting up in panic and a thumping heart. But God were you good at hiding your emotions. When your eyes had met with Hyuck’s you threw him a quick smile, stretching your hand out for him to take. He was hesitant, not wanting you to see how shaky he had become but he took it nonetheless. 

Mark hadn’t sat up to see what you two were doing but he could feel the movement on the side of the bed and the dip on the large mattress when you had pulled your husband onto it. Your attention was again taken away from him, as was your touch. 

How quickly his spell died within you.

“Telling Mark he should enjoy the last day. It’s either that or welcome the century a loser. His choice.” You joked. Hyuck released an airy laugh, shaking his head. “You want to get out of the house, dude? Some of the locals just dropped off an invite for a beach New Year’s party.” His soft hands reached to envelope you the way you had Mark.

“If you guys are cool with it.” It’s all he musters. “Then it’s settled. Now, I need all of you to finish cleaning around and get ready for dinner.” You playfully glare at both, in return Haechan smiles, kissing you tenderly as a response; Mark a spectator to his demise. 

While cleaning around his bedroom and the rooms you had told him to, worked to distract him in the meantime. Those same ill thoughts gushed through his brain the minute he was done getting ready. Looking at himself through the mirror. Glancing at his every detail, Mark sighs in hopes that tomorrow his plans flourish.

From times Hyuck stayed home during the weekends it was never this bad. You always avoided him and opted to spend time with Mark but things had taken a turn this time. Your husband stuck to your hip and you didn’t seem to mind. Especially not after telling him you loved him. 

Regardless if there was something Mark had, it was hope and he hoped that tomorrow by this hour you two will be putting away your items into a moving truck to place in his new apartment. This millennium is going to be a new start for you both. Together.

In the process of making his way to the living room, Mark saw no sign of either of you. Smoothening his dress shirt while picking at the side dishes. All these hours of malnourishment were finally getting to him. He just hoped you didn’t scold him for not eating or for messing up the presentation of your dish.

This was something else that seemed to make him realize how much Donghyuck was impeding what you two had. Never in the past months have you let Mark skip meals but these few days, you barely checked up on him. How can things go south so quickly? While Mark internally complained about the changes, your husband calmly sat on the same couch Mark had lounged on that awful afternoon.

Donghyuck sat pensive, a cigarette in hand and a six pack on the glass table. Worry and sadness were visible but Mark didn’t pry. His mind only cared for his problems and feelings about you. He couldn’t care less that Hyuck legally had you.

Mark’s only solace were your passionate kisses and tender words from earlier letting him know you were there for him. How you didn’t make excuses on why you held him earlier the second Haechan saw you two. Or how before this trip, you’d always run to him rather than Hyuck when in need of company. 

You wanted him, not Donghyuck. He’s sure of it.

“Invite next time.” Mark laughs, playfully slapping off his friend’s feet from the table so he can pass by. Sitting besides the younger of the two, Mark glances at him, an awkward smile following behind. Donghyuck returns it while handing him a bottle and the box of cigarettes he found on your night stand. You didn’t smoke but it seemed like you kept some for Mark.

“It’s been a long run, dude.” Mark continues. Despite holding resentment, Donghyuck will always be his savior and best friend. “It has, hasn't it? Almost thirty years together.” The honey brunette laughs, blowing smoke out and taking a swig of his drink. “It kind of sucks we didn’t get to spend the time you were with us together. Sorry about that.”

Donghyuck’s head hangs low, the cigarette between his lips dropping ashes on the floor. In a sense Mark shared that sentiment. Deep down behind the rancor and hate, he loved Donghyuck. Even if Donghyuck himself wondered how much he loved Mark.

“You leave tomorrow and all I can take away from your stay is this trip.” Despondency held tight onto his words. What he truly took away was his betrayal but sometimes he was a coward and opted to stay silent. “Really wish we did more.” He sighs, Mark’s gaze floods with apologies. 

Mark didn’t understand why his guilt was manifesting itself now. Maybe because it was just them two and your presence didn’t cloud his judgment. The possibilities are endless but when it’s just them two— Mark is aware that Donghyuck has always been there to take care of him. Kinda like you take care of him.

While in the past he was aware he slept with his best friend’s wife and was wrong in a sense. Now it was punching his chest while screaming that he was an asshole. He didn’t know whether to take responsibility or blame his father’s home for cursing his existence. Maybe if you three didn’t stay here things would’ve been different and he’d gone back to not feeling as much remorse.

“We have an entire lifetime to do things together, Hyuck.” Mark finally gets a word in, exhaling through his nose while his fingers thread through his hair. A smile tugged at his lips, turning to his friend to deliver. The other returns it, a contagious chuckle plaguing both.

“Remember when your dad bought the play set and placed it by the beach between the boulders?” The image of younger Mark and Donghyuck around the ages of seven running around the slippery sand painted itself on Donghyuck’s brain. He closes his eyes, those warm hues of the summer’s sky were memorable.

Mark laughs, taking large gulps of his now warm drink. Sticking his tongue out from the disgusting taste. “And we turned it to face the beach because we thought the slide was long enough for us to slide all the way into the water. Just for you to slip on the steps and I slid straight into a boulder—”

“And we both broke our arms!” 

The two said in unison, laughing at the memory. This is one of the things they could share. “Some stupid seaweed stuck to my foot and it made me slip. I just remember screaming on the way down and waking up in the room with the cast already on.” Donghyuck speaks through laughs.

Mark mimics the action, the smoke of both their cigarettes getting to him. “Dad was so mad when Taeyong ran screaming about what happened but he was more concerned with the fact that he dropped his bucket of crabs inside the house than us.” Mr. Lee has always cared more about the materialistic aspect than his own family, even at such an early age. Regardless, that was the only time he’s seen Mark’s father care for his friend. 

“It’s kind of surreal I’m not gonna see you guys anymore until who knows when. I’ve gotten so used to you; it’s a little different from when I used to see you all the time as kids and growing up but living with you has changed everything.” 

“How so?” Donghyuck was curious what he meant. Yes, things have changed but he wanted to hear his friend’s reasons. “For starters, I got closer to y/n.” Mark had no malice in his words but Hyuck didn’t see it that way. He was already on edge for the way he saw you two earlier and all the occurrences in the past month so the mere mention of you was throwing away that sweet moment they just shared. 

Haechan’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, shoulders tensing while glaring at Mark. The older one doesn't notice just yet. As his eyes rake Mark’s figure, they spot a familiar piece wrapped tightly onto his wrist. Compared to your bracelet, Mark’s was worn out and a few threads from ripping off. The beads had lost their color and the once bright blue was now faint, almost gray. 

“I can tell.” There no longer was warmth to Hyuck’s voice. It was hoarse and deep, clogging Mark’s eardrums and forcing him to look at his younger friend. That intense and angry glare confusing him but when it comes to you, even he can’t help but get defensive. 

Mark squints, taking the last sip of his drink and tossing the bottle to the side. “I’d say she probably took your spot as best friend.” He jokes but it doesn’t translate well with Donghyuck who bitterly chuckles. “She said the same before she gave me these.” Pulling down the collar of his shirt, Hyuck points at the slowly fading markings on his neck. 

That’s when things came crashing upon Mark. His comfort and happy bubble had burst and reality flooded around him. Why would Donghyuck just blatantly hurt him like this? Rub in that he could show off your love publicly while he had to hide it.

“Looks like I have a new best friend.” Mark ignores the action, inhaling harshly against the cigarette butt not caring about the stinging warmth against his fingers. “But you’re my best friend.” Hyuck whines, his voice playfully pitched but his eyes dark and sharp.

“And if I replace you?” Mark taunts the younger, raising an eyebrow in defiance. When Hyuck was to answer, the clicking of heels distracted them. Turning to the interruption, the two gawked at your figure. The glare of your sparkling dress was brighter than the lightbulb outside. If anyone saw, they looked like moths attracted to a light source.

While fixing your hair delicately, the two admired how the fabric hugged your every crevice. How it wasn’t long enough to cover your legs, the legs they loved so much. And when looking up directly at your face, makeup only enhanced how beautiful they already found you.

“Can one of you zip up my dress? I just did my nails.” You explain walking closer to them. Naturally Hyuck was going to stand up to do so however Mark had beaten him to it. Smiling at you who in return ignored it while blowing at your hands, fanning them to quicken the process.

You didn’t care who had taken the responsibility but they did. While Mark basked in the joy of doing these small things for you, Donghyuck glared at what happened before him. He couldn’t directly see how Mark slowly pulled at the small zipper. His fingers traced patterns on your back to have a feel of you just one more time. Even if it was this simple. And when he found the metal to reach its end, disappointment wasn't too grand as he was able to enjoy your body again.

 “There.” Mark says with a smile pulling away. He hadn’t fully forgotten about the younger male but he would much rather enjoy your presence. “Thank you.” You return the gesture, throwing him a soft toothy smile. 

How he loved your smile.

“You look beautiful, honey.” An aggravating voice cut through the moment. Pulling you towards him, Donghyuck takes you into his arms after spinning you around. You giggle at his comment, patting his chest to calm the giddiness. 

“You think so?” Your eyelashes flutter trying to avoid his gaze, glad the blush from makeup could disguise the warmth rising onto your face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know, y/n.” He confirms in a husky voice, his lips slotting with yours in a quick tender kiss to not ruin your lipstick. Not that it matters, in minutes it’ll be gone with the final dinner.

Reluctantly separating, Donghyuck chuckles when your eyes meet. Satisfied with the shy smile slapped across your face. “Right, Mark?” He looks at his friend, head lifting slightly just to see how his body will react.

It was to say that Mark had been taken aback. Worst yet, when you turned to look at him, a sheer blank expression was there in comparison to how you looked at Donghyuck just seconds prior. 

It’s fine. It’s fine, you have to put up a front — like you have with Hyuck — before you two leave tomorrow and leave this smug asshole behind.

“Yeah. Truth be told you are, y/n.” His voice had dropped an octave. Taking the box of cigarettes from the table, Mark turns on his heel towards the house. “I’ll get the wine from the basement.” Leaving you two behind and the clanking of his dress shoes following him.

The interaction had soured the mood. When minutes prior you two happily kissed, right now Donghyuck was battling with his tongue to keep itself shut. But not even biting it was going to make him avoid the following conversation. 

Once inside and placing the plates for dinner; Hyuck’s tongue had won the battle against his teeth and the brewing venom slowly slips. “Y/n?” He calls out, smoothening the cloth napkins. You don’t spare him a glance, humming in response with a scowl when noticing Mark’s traces in one of the side dishes.  

“I know you and Mark have gotten close but could the affection dial down?” Your attention was now fully on his words. While you enjoy knowing he’s growing weary, a part of you feels annoyed at his request. “What do you mean?” Your actions stopped, attentive to whatever he has to say towards the subject. 

He looks at you momentarily before placing the cutlery. His shoes try their best to distract with their squeaky sound. “There’s hugging him as a greeting and then there’s hugging him while laying in bed. Or him zipping you up. There's a limit to things y/n.” 

The cascade of silent meek words had instead furthered your irritation. Turning to fully face him, indignation smothered your face. “Why? Do you not trust me?” He refuses to look at you, resting his weight on his extended arms against the table.

“I didn’t say that.” “Sounds like it.”

He feels your persistent glare, the radiating heat burning holes into his flesh. Hell, he could see the smoke wafting towards his eyes to keep him blind. However Donghyuck musters a deep sigh, rubbing at said organs with defeat.

“I just want you to care for my concerns.” 

Mark’s presence didn’t allow for your vexatious response. For the most part you were glad; this was bound to go south with you throwing in his face what he’s done. The cycle will never end. At least for now you’ll rest assured that he’s aching like you’ve wanted him to.

Subsequently the dinner was tough to go through. While small talk made itself present, it was never long enough unlike the clinking of glasses, cutlery, and the background noise of the TV informing you all of how in hours the transition to the new year will be made. Things followed that way until you all got ready again and made your way to the beach.

While it wasn’t crossing the line to Mr. Lee’s property, it wasn’t far enough for you all to drive there. With around three glasses of wine down, two shots, and the beer bottle in each one of your hands; claiming you two were being boring, Mark had managed to tranquilize the ambiance and get you two to relax.

Through giggles or full on cackling, both men argued while recalling yet again another one of their anecdotes in this same beach. Most of them being of the torment they made Mark’s older brother Taeyong endure. 

“You guys suck. I know what it feels to see their pet be made into a meal.” You pout at the story they had just finished telling. A butterfly effect had taken place that summer when the boys broke their arms. To tease the older of the three; Mark and Donghyuck had tossed his pet crabs around the beach. Through tears and whining from Taeyong, Mr. Lee had forced them to chase after the few they could salvage. 

But their chances were slim and given the play set was already in their search area, the faith of the youngest two had been told. Mark’s and Donghyuck’s malicious actions led to a temporarily long painful period. Sadly to say that even Taeyong suffered from the happenings. Mr. Lee had already been angry at the boy’s actions regarding the crabs and when his eldest son had rushed in exasperatedly to the point he dropped the bucket of said pets inside the home— their faith had been sealed the instant Lee senior blamed them for everything. 

That afternoon arriving from the hospital, Taeyong’s pets had become a delicious meal for the Lee family. Much to Taeyong’s disapproval and hunger strike that week.

“Come on pretty girl. We were like, what? Seven?” Hyuck defends in between laughs, his arm wraps around your shoulders to leave a sloppy kiss on your cheek. You scowl at the action, a smile following suit when he leaves another one to tease you. 

While Mark wasn’t enjoying the view, he didn’t want to sour the mood. You all had finally been able to go back to what you’ve all known and he knew how much it meant to you to end and start the year well. If he has to cut off his tongue and gouge his eyes out to keep the peace, then so be it.

“I would’ve cared but those little shits always pinched me any chance they had.” Mark spews jokingly, pinching Hyuck softly to emulate the pets. Comically exclaiming his pain, Donghyuck adds a quick jump to his step. Alcohol was getting to them but you won’t complain. Behind the remorse, you wanted to see your boys happy too. At least for now.

“Yeah, well it’s not fun being excited for your meal and suddenly while you’re almost done your family drops the fact that you’re eating your pet made into a pot roast.” The memory of Lola, your cow will always live in your heart. Even if she was a cunt.

“Pot roast sounds so good right now.” Donghyuck’s jesting insensitivity made Mark almost choke on his beer, coughing through laughter while you shove Hyuck off you. “Oh come on!” He laughs, trailing behind you until he grasps your waist and pulls you close to him.

He tries to contain his laughter but it escapes regardless. You weren’t mad to say the least, you just enjoyed teasing him in a different way. Resting his chin on your exposed shoulder, the honey brunette turns to kiss the crook of your neck. The smell of alcohol embedding itself on your skin.

 “Isn’t Lola the one who kicked you? That you fell into the mud?” But no one could win against his mockery. “Well…” This time you couldn’t help but laugh along, the melody from your throat letting the other two know it was fine to laugh too. “It was a really good pot roast.” 

Through laughter, jokes, teasing, and more drinking; within minutes the three of you found yourselves by the shoreline viewing the ebullience of every partygoer. String lights amongst every pole, clumps of people drinking and dancing amongst themselves. For miles all you could see were masses with glasses reading ‘2000’ or mardi gras beads.

Greeted with sparklers and beaded necklaces around your necks, the three of you swished the wands around. The yellow sparks fly off and dwindle quickly. “In case our bank accounts get drained or locked in a few hours… Cheers!” 

It hasn’t been the easiest year or for that matter the best last years of the decade but if for just this night you’d all ignore your wrong doings then you’ll be assured that there’s something out for you. Seeing Donghyuck prance around with his best friend, the happiest smiles on their faces would have made you feel as giddy in the past but alcohol is treacherous.

While it treats them well, it’s tossing you around. Playing with your heart and brain, mocking you for what the universe will do to this friendship. You won’t deny that having Mark stay with you had brought back peace and happiness initially. But after a while of giving yourself to him, he became a bore, almost like you had drained him of any fun. 

Donghyuck had turned out that way long before his friend arrived. Maybe it was because of work and the exhaustion it piled on him. But he was more silent and avoided you, especially whenever he knew an argument would happen. It may have bothered you but you failed to see that your constant berating had made his light dwindle.

Seeing them act so freely amongst themselves, laughing as if nothing has happened stabbed your chest over and over. It wasn’t guilt or sadness. On one hand you hated seeing them this happy while you weren’t but on the other, you’re glad that at least they can enjoy their company until the older one leaves. And after so long this is the first time you’ve seen them cling to each other lovingly. Like the brothers they were before all this. 

But life will never grant you the gift of happiness. You’ve made too many mistakes to have that now.

While the hours passed in which you’d all laugh, danced, and sang about the bliss of life; Donghyuck parted momentarily from you two to get more drinks leaving you alone with Mark. The latter took this opportunity to close the gap Donghyuck had been occupying. Sliding his way to you and pressing himself against your back.

The sensation caught you off guard, exasperatedly looking around to make sure your husband wasn’t witnessing this. “Not here, he’ll get back soon.” You swallow the lump in your throat as your hands battled on whether to push him off or let the drunken lust win over.

A breathy sigh expelled from his lips, softly nipping where Donghyuck had kissed you upon arrival. “One last dance of the year, baby. You’ll kiss that asshole when the clock hits midnight let me have this at least.” The coarseness of his voice made your eyelashes flutter, the sensation of his chapped lips drawing you further into temptation. 

Maybe falling victim to your needs one last time wouldn’t hurt.

Your hips began swaying against his own, pressing your back further into his chest whilst he held you tightly. Both dancing to the sensual melody without a care of the outside world. The trail of his fingers against your exposed skin left a boiling feeling. Your blood attracted to his touch like the first time. 

You looked up at him through lashes, giggling when his own stare was glued to you. Mark himself chuckled when your eyes met, smiling while biting his inferior lip and leaning down to capture yours with his. Temptation had won against your restraints, forgetting that your husband wasn’t far away.

But a harsh tug made you stumble and the painful crack of Donghyuck’s knuckles against Mark’s cheek brought the two of you back to reality. Shock filled your body and your breathing felt short. It was all crashing down on you at the worst time. Twenty minutes till midnight, this will be your end.

“What’s your fucking deal, asshole?!” Mark angrily reproaches at his friend, holding his cheek, wincing with every touch. “What do you mean what’s my fucking deal? You’re kissing my wife, you dick.” Haechan pushes against Mark’s chest, making the latter stumble. He might be angry but a taunting chuckle leaves his lips.

“One of many times.”

“What did you say?!” Earning himself another push, this time nearly tripping over his feet. When he stabilized himself, he returned the gesture to the one assaulting him. “One of many times, dickhead! On your bed, couch, bathroom, kitchen, car, hours ago!” Definitely, Mark extends his arms in an open invitation to continue. 

“If you weren’t such an asshole she wouldn’t have looked for someone else that could treat her better.” He gnaws the inside of his mouth, wincing again when accidentally gracing his cheek. Alcohol had proven to betray Mark. Hours earlier it was his best friend and aided him in loosening up but now it was spewing all his wrong doings and rubbing it in his brother’s face.

“Hyuck, it was just a kiss. Please, don’t make a big deal.” Your attempts at calming the situation had failed, instead making him grow angrier. How can it be just a kiss when Mark just confessed about your affair? “One fucking kiss? You stink of him almost every night. But no only I’ve fucked up!”

Donghyuck clicks his tongue, shaking his head with irritation. “If anything she’s only doing it to piss me off. She only fucks you to get it out of her system. This whole time she hasn’t run to you now that she has me. Her husband.” His venom clung to Mark, etching down every single one of his words onto his mind. 

No. No, Mark knows you love him and you wouldn’t just use him. You love him. That word: husband. Husband can only mean so much when the people in the party are happy and not miserable like you all are. But why does it hurt every time it’s said without correlation to himself?

“You guys are fucking unbelievable. The year is about to end and you’re ruining it for me. You just had to be men, claiming and possessing as if we don’t have our own say. Useless as always!” Your angry words cut through their direct dialogue; turning to your figure walking away from the scene. People had started to pay attention however you’ll be damned before you’re the joke of any town.

They weren’t of any help, the two argued as they followed behind. Not too far to lose or not be associated with you. Regardless they’ll drag you down with them even if they don’t intend to.

“I’m tired of you throwing that word around as if it had any meaning to you. The same person that forgot his anniversary and left her crying and came back smelling like whores with cheap lipstick stains? Do I have to remind you how you threw the shirt away instead?” 

You had reached your wits ends. In the instance Mark’s words left regarding your husband’s second plausible affair, you stopped in your tracks to look at both. The fiery pits of hell decorating your pupils and rivers of agony pooling at your waterline. 

“But you reproach me about hugging mark? Are you fucking serious, Hyuck? Again?” A sob tried sneaking into your words, clutching onto your mouth to not let your voice betray you. You didn’t look back at them, if you knew anything about either is that Mark would smugly turn to Haechan and mock him while the latter tries to beg for more time.

Again. Donghyuck had been unfaithful to you in the past and just this night Mark was first hearing about it. Any guilt from earlier into the affair was now gone. If he could, so could you. The news might have killed him earlier but now he rejoices in knowing that no morality will stand between you and him anymore.

Donghyuck takes your hand into his. As much as you tug to get away from him, his grasp shows to have gotten stronger. “I haven't done anything! At most they threw themselves at me, you know the meetings are always at clubs, y/n. Please… I said I wouldn’t do this to you again, I promised.” The sob you failed to expel, he did instead. 

You tried avoiding his sad puppy dog eyes but his touch will always be a weakness of yours. Regardless, you won’t let him see your vulnerability. Mark had witnessed it and instead he was using it against his friend’s neglect. They were all the same.

“You haven’t done anything?” Your voice slips between your gritted teeth. He shakes his head exasperatedly trudging behind while you continue until you’re finally by the sliding doors of the porch. “Just like you didn’t do anything with your catering girl?!” 

The increase in tone of your voice catches both off guard. Confused but intrigued, Mark watches as you pull your arm from Haechan’s grasp while he’s left with trembling eyes. “I wish the cheek kisses were more than just that…” Hearing you recite the words, Donghyuck knew it was back to square one.

“Y/n, stop.” He begs, walking to reach you but you back away. “I want to hold you again and again. To wake by your side like last night. To feel your warmth and kisses until we both die.’ I want to hold you… feel your warmth until we die. You’re so full of shit.” The lump in your throat wouldn’t pass, it suffocated you with every passing second but it hurt more reminiscing the contents of those letters than dying from asphyxiation. 

While he may be part of this, Mark was out of place in this instance. He was just another spectator now like all those masses outside. 

“You can recite them all you want but I never lied to you about what happened.” His voice was apologetic with a lingering sadness after every word. “Right.” You roll your eyes, finally reaching for a glass of wine to sedate your anger. 

“Yes! I never lied to you about what went on unlike you! You said it was purely platonic between you two. Indignation all over your face when I brought it up then and today and you still want to act like I’m the only liar.” Even now you couldn’t find it in yourself to admit you were wrong. At least not anytime soon in this lifetime. 

Raising your glass with a shrug, “Okay, I fucked him. So what? You fucked her too. We’r–” “I never fucked her for fuck’s sake! Listen to me for once! I never fucked her! Kissed from time to time and slept in the same bed but we never fucked! You didn’t want to console me, so she did.” 

Mark had been the shoulder you cried on when Donghyuck’s actions broke your heart but now you’re leaving the stubbornness behind to understand he had his own shoulder to cry on. 

“You're supposed to be my best friend, my ride or die and instead you’re fucking my wife! You’re supposed to be my fucking brother!” Donghyuck screams out in a sob, turning on his heel to see a stunted Mark. The older of the three needed a long time to process what he was hearing. 

Time has run out for you all. It was too late to forgive and forget. The fireworks illuminating the dark outside and screams of glee embedding itself into all of your minds. January 1st, 2000: The end of the world to many but for you three in particular. 

All there left was disappointment and sadness. This isn’t how you wanted to start or end your year but consequences will always come to those with malicious intent. Even if it refers to revenge. 

“Always have to ruin everything.” You spit out, glaring at your husband and directing it to Mark. The words stung in Donghyuck’s fragile heart. Enduring years of your vicious words was making it harder for him.

Things went for worse when you took Mark’s wrist into your hand, dragging him towards his room. The younger’s heart began beating achingly at the image before him. His ears went hot and he felt light headed seeing his friend comply with you.

“Wh- where are you going?” His question went unanswered.

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you two going?!” Panic constrained his mind. Many scenarios played in his head and they all ended the same way. With you and Mark intertwined on the smooth sheets of the bed. Caresses and kisses over nude flesh while he could do nothing about it.

All through the transcript of dragging Mark to his bedroom and locking the both of you inside, Donghyuck hadn’t stopped his whining and crying. Begging you to not do anything stupid and for you to stop this torment. 

Truth be told, you believed that your husband hadn’t slept with the catering girl but it did hurt to know he went to someone else for comfort. While it is your fault he caused those extremities, you couldn’t help that rage within you. Bringing up the subject made you feel like that sixteen year old when your father’s way of coping with your mother’s death was by remarrying another woman. 

Why couldn’t any of them just cope your way? Why did they always have to resort to other women? If they couldn’t deal with how you wanted them to, you had to make sure they felt your pain, one way or another. 

The banging on Mark’s door kept getting louder by the minute. Donghyuck’s grueling cries begging you to get out of there brought a sense of peace while Mark felt terrified. He’s never heard Haechan beg like this for anything, not even as a child when he threw tantrums. 

Moreover, Mark’s senses began to calm down as Donghyuck’s banging did too. All that’s left was hearing the younger sob through the wall begging you to not do something stupid and to think about the marriage. Under the impression that you had dragged his friend to fuck under his nose, Donghyuck was distraught and broken. 

Once and for all, Mark felt triumph. He was the one you dragged inside with you. The one you’re laying next to even if it’s just to stare at the old glow in the dark stars stuck to his cieling. It was him you’ve chosen and that’s enough for him to know you loved him. Him, not your husband.

At what point did he go wrong? He’s always loved you even through insults and arguments that made his self esteem die. All he needed was someone to care for him in his lowest point and the person he needed most left for a three month work period. Leaving him to rot and wallow in the pain of mourning. 

While he may not have loved the seaweed girl, he liked that she was there for him. But maybe that’s where he went wrong. Using her and giving her hope led to his bad karma and here he was, begging his vengeful wife to not fuck his best friend, his brother for who knows how many times. To spare him of any more pain but it was hopeless. Hope is a dangerous thing for a man like him to have.

Haechan had lost a brother that year and now he’s lost another. 

The seasons had come to an agreement and decided to stick to what they’re known for. It was the coldest and gloomiest time to begin a millennium. In contrast to yesterday’s heat, today the prickling wind wouldn’t stop torturing your cheeks. 

Streets were empty and stores had at least a handful of people. Everyone was either rejoicing the world didn’t end or hung over from all the alcohol that coursed their bodies. You only hoped many didn’t start it the way you three did. 

“Welcome in! Order when you’re ready!” 

The diner at the train station was the most packed compared to any other store you’ve passed by. While the elderly waitresses greeted everyone that went in, Donghyuck and Mark found each other sitting silently in one of the booths. You had decided to order some coffees but the line was longer than expected.

Nothing went past subtle glances and sighs. If it wasn’t for the no smoking inside policy, Mark would’ve pulled one out by now to aid his restlessness. As the seconds passed and you didn’t come back, the older of the two sighed one last time and finally decided to open his mouth.

“We didn’t do anything last night.” Hyuck doesn’t question or care to continue. Unlike him, Mark’s conscience was corroding. If you were to leave with him in minutes, he wanted to make peace with his oldest friend. There’s a chance his father will keep him around and whenever he sees the two of you at functions, he doesn’t want things to be awkward. 

He shifts in his seat, leaning over the table. “I’m sorry things turned out this way. She’s just– I don’t know, she’s great.” He fondly chuckles yet Donghyuck’s chuckle was anything but that. If you were to follow Mark's plan, then Haechan hopes Mark can endure the hell you’ve put him through.

“I don’t care, Mark.” The eldest stops to look at his defeated friend. Hyuck had been playing with his wedding band while Mark talked and though it may cause a twinge of jealousy, it shouldn’t be long until he himself has one. RIght?

“I don’t care how things went. All I know is that you’re a fucking traitor. I could’ve expected this from anyone but not you.” Mark tries to apologize but Hyuck’s dark glare shuts him up. With all the pain he’s caused him, why is he acting like everything should be alright between the two? Maybe Mark and you did deserve each other. 

“You know you’ll always be my best friend right? My brother.” Mark’s words weren’t malicious but after everything, Hyuck can only stare at him before letting out a scoff that comes out as a chuckle, granting Mark a grin of disbelief. “Yeah. I believe you.”

Mark responds with a smile but the sour taste in his tongue can’t be scraped away. He’s aware Donghyuck is being sarcastic, he just hopes in the future that he’ll forgive him. As much as this unknown feeling pains him.

“Here, I didn’t want to prepare them and have you two annoy me if it was too sweet.” 

Nonchalantly you included yourself in their conversation as if last night’s scenario was nothing but a nightmare. Early in the morning you had woken them up, sweet talking both of them with a bright smile on your face. Things might have gone south but after a long restless night you weren’t going to let your year go to waste because of them. This is about you and you alone.

Consequently this is what Donghyuck was thinking about. How soon you were going to ignore any of your wrong doings and sweep them under the rug. You were going to force him to forget any ill word you’ve thrown at him for the sake of your peace without regard for his own.

He may be selfish now since the period of you finding out about his affair but he had learned from the best.

Regardless he couldn’t take it anymore and sought his way out towards the restroom where he could have some time alone. If he didn’t have at least five minutes he’d burst your bubble and it was best to not awaken that hurtful beast within.

Neither of you spared him a glance; raising your cup to be polite towards Mark, you take a sip of your coffee, biting your tongue after the liquid burnt it. “Do you want me to go get your ticket while he’s gone?” Mark breaks the ice again, his spoon swirling the mixture of liquids. 

“Hm?” Your confusion catches him off guard, mirroring your knitted eyebrows as you take another sip of the coffee. “Train ticket, y/n.” He nervously chuckles, the spoon in his hand clanking against the table. His words didn’t ring a bell in your mind and all it caused was for an anxious whirlwind in his chest to form.

“For what?” “You’re leaving with me aren’t you? I mean, you stayed with me last night while he cried his heart out. That should mean something, right? It was your answer, right?”

His voice pitched increasingly the longer you gave him a blank stare. “That’s just a normal argument. Why did you get scared?” You giggle, throwing him a smile, acting like you didn’t just burn your tongue for a second time now. 

He tried his best to avoid the feeling of hate and sadness. In his brain you were just joking around with him. A part of him reassured him that at the last minute you’d tell Hyuck he could go to hell and you’d accompany Mark’s journey for eternity after. He was so sure of it after all he’s witnessed. But worry and doubt would never failed to fuck with him. 

“Y/n… Last night you– I love you, y/n.”

“How low can one get to sleep with his brother’s wife? I don't see that as love.”

The sentence had cut deep in him, enough that no type of medication could cure the ache in his heart.

“We had plans, y/n for fucks sake.” His voice cracked, lips trembling ready to cry. “No, you had plans.“ It slips through gritted teeth, his eyes sharp like your tongue that spewed venom into his heart. 

“If you took a second to listen to those plans, you’d realize how selfish and self centered they are.” You were beginning to get angry. Mostly for the fact that he’s bursting the bubble Hyuck was avoiding. The facade was over, Hyuck knew about you two, and Mark wasn’t being mindful of your own feelings. 

“How?” 

“How? I move out with you and start a new life in which I’ll be staying at home and you’ll work. How familiar does that sound?” The wind gushed outside, slapping the windows in order to make Mark put some effort. 

“It’ll be different…” he cleared his voice, it was meek and silent, an obvious restraint in wanting to admit it wasn’t too different from what you have right now. “How is it going to be different, Mark? Tell me how.” The whirlwind in your own chest contradicted his. While he felt anxious you grew annoyed.

“So are you leaving with me today or not?” Mark raised his head, finally looking you in the eye. There should be a part of you that preferred him regardless, no? After everything you two have experienced and the way he’s made you feel, why wouldn’t you choose him? He needs you for fuck’s sake.

Placing your cup down to look back at him, a grimace of annoyance decorated your lips. “You haven’t learnt anything have you?” You leaned over the table, feeling the lifting wood poking your ribcage. “My grandma always used to say: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.“

“God can laugh but I still have my plans. Now it’s up to you if you slip out of his grasp and move in with me. I’ll figure out how to make it different eventually. I’ll be waiting for you.” His eyes betrayed the harsh tone in his voice but Mark wanted it to be clear that he’d do anything to cater to you. Even if it meant that you’d break his heart from time to time.

Mark looked outside the window, sand from the beach danced across the platform entrance. Like Donghyuck, he couldn’t bear being in your presence now. Accidentally bumping into the table while he stands, Mark makes way towards the door, not before throwing you one last glance. 

However you weren’t too keen on putting others over yourself.

“Donghyuck is my husband.” You spat, back angrily hitting the cold plastic booth backrest. In his desperate agony, he fumbled out the door with those same words ringing as loudly as the entrance bell. 

The mentioned man had gotten out not long after Mark had left, questioning his whereabouts but dismissed by you asking him to walk along the shoreline while you all waited for Mark’s train to arrive.

After speaking with Mark in which he took refuge in the platform benches, it allowed for both you and Hyuck to take the opportunity to bask in the presence of each other. 

What was there to say? Any argument and reproach had been screamed last night, enough to hurt everyone involved but mainly him. 

For someone that wanted to avoid a horrible start of a new age, you had failed and all that was left was the mixture of resentment and anger towards the two men in your current life. 

Hyuck similar to you, shared those sentiments with the exception he wasn’t too angry. Rather than so he was sad. Sad at the fact that his best friend, his brother, could've done that to him. To smile and laugh under his roof while fucking his wife and not feeling guilt whatsoever. In fact the bastard gloated as if you had chosen him instead.

While he had no room to judge, he still had the right to feel horrible about this now confirmed betrayal. He wondered if you felt this pain when you found out. You had expressed your anger through destroying the house and becoming cold towards him until Mark showed up but that was about it. He never had the chance to see you cry about what he had done and he believes he never will. 

You did cry of course. Despite the way you treated him and tossed him around, ignoring his cries for help, you still loved him. You loved how attentive and kind he was. You loved that he stuck by your side after your lashings and the nostalgia of how sweet he was when pursuing you. So to realize that there was a possibility of him doing all that for someone else broke you. 

Why would he confess profound love until his final breath just to go on and have a fling with the next girl that gave him attention while you’re gone? Well it was easy and while he started telling you last night, you needed more.

Stopping in your tracks, feet away from the platform and people; you turn to the ocean, watching the increased height of the crashing waves. Their splashing kisses your skin and the wind makes your hair dance across your face. 

When noticing, Hyuck turns his body to you, tucking away the strands behind your ear. His warm hand lingered for a few seconds on your cold damp cheek, staring with sorrow embedded into his pupils. It’s fascinating how often your bodies contradict each other. He didn’t say anything, all he did was look at you, eyes flickering across your stoic face. Many things crossed your mind but your face never showed it. 

Up until he dropped his hand and stood beside you to be consumed in the whirlwinds of today’s weather; your voice interrupted his silence. No thoughts in his head but now the melody of your voice swirled around in his cranium. 

“Do you think in another universe we could’ve been happy together?”

You didn’t turn but he does, the confusion on his face easing when the question washes over him. 

“Perhaps when we learn to fix our mistakes and flaws.” “What flaws? Yours?” “Right.”

He laughs exhaustedly. In this universe or any other, he didn’t believe you’ll ever be able to accept that you’ve also fucked up. It was notable that you were able to admit you and Mark had been fucking but even that you blamed on him. He wouldn’t complain, there’s no doubt that you did it out of spite but regardless he knew what he was talking about. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around last night’s information. Maybe because your affair consisted of pure carnal desire but you couldn’t understand how Donghyuck didn’t take that approach with the catering girl. 

“W-why her?..”

There was no intention for your words to come out shaky. What you feared was your walls starting to crack at this information. On his part, Hyuck didn’t want to speak much anymore. He knew if he told you more, you’d be upset and he feared you’d throw a fit again but your insistence by holding onto his arms and hesitating to pull him close was enough. 

Glancing at you with worry, he sighs. His head drops and turns to the sea hoping it could swallow him. “My brother died a week before and you left, y/n. You left me for three months when I needed you most and you barely answered any of my calls. And I know you didn’t just leave for work, I know you didn’t want to deal with me but she did.” 

Your world came crashing down on you. He was right, you did leave to not deal with his emotions to get away from him and to avoid the feeling of grief all over again. When his parents had come over to tell him the news it reminded you too much of your mother’s death. Sad part is that when you came back he too had replaced you with another woman the same way your father did with your mom. 

At the end of the day your plan had backfired on you. You didn’t know how to comfort him nor wanted to, dealing with the strong emotions of others was never your thing. But till this day you’re paying the consequences as he is. 

“She listened and comforted me. I guess I confused it with love because the second you came back all that flooded my mind was you regardless that you left me or all the times you called me useless for not doing things your way. You could add that to the reasons. She was nice, if I made a mistake she wouldn’t berate me and instead helped me with it. Why did you change, y/n? You were so sweet and suddenly you just… dropped the act.”

To hear it come from his mouth crushed your heart. To an extent you knew your actions would have led to this outcome but you always put the blame on him. 

You shrug, throwing him a quick glance. “I’ve always been like this, Hyuck.”

“No, the girl I fell in love with was sweet and playful. You became mean and cold after we got married.”

“You changed so much too. Once you started getting promotions you became such a pompous ass. Constantly staying out for meetings till 2 AM, always smelling like alcohol, and lessening the help at home. Then after the affair you gave up so fast in trying to amend anything that you became worse and that’s when the constant fighting began.”

He couldn’t forget of course. He still recalls you shredding to pieces the book of poems he wrote to you and binded. He felt his heart go when you had done that; watching his hard work and feelings just thrown away over a petty argument of who would walk the dog next. Sad to say when those poems were destroyed the dog went out next. Every fruit of your love withered little by little. 

Donghyuck took refuge in his job to stay away from you. Despite how in pain he was, he still had hope things would get better, that maybe you’d forget and try to work it out again. By the time Mark had arrived, that hope had died out and he was tired of the cycle that he just mimicked your way of treating him.

Nevertheless in the past months that you changed how you treated him, it blossomed again. Of course, good things never last and when his suspicions kept being thrown at his face, he understood what life had brought upon him. 

He hums as a response, sighing loudly in the process. “I don’t think we can be happy any time soon but at least this is making us actually talk about it now.” His deep voice adds, turning to you to get a sweet answer but he was simply met with a cheeky smile and: “So we’re even now?”

He laughs finding it unbelievable. No apology or anything of the sort. Some things won't change too fast but regardless his sentiment was similar. “Yeah. We’re even.”

A relieved smile spreads on your face, nodding in agreement. “Till death do us apart.” No matter how much you two confess your disdain for each other, you’ll always be together. Call it sadomasochism or exhausting familiarity but you and your husband are sticking together. 

All these years you were waiting for Donghyuck’s downfall and having him confess it has been happening all along had alleviated that weight on your shoulders. You had done it and he was paying for hurting you. Some sentiments never change but even with that information, you aren’t satisfied. What you two had was ruined and everyone involved ended up losing.

The locomotive was louder than expected. In addition the conductors and ticketing people were heard even from where you two stood. This was it, Mark’s time was over with you two.

Cocking his head for you to follow him; with hooked arms, the both of you make way to the bench where Mark sits nervously. His legs shake from either the cold or wondering if you’ll still leave with him. Even now that he sees how close and happy you and Hyuck look together, he’s willing to convince himself it’s another front.

“Got everything ready?” Hyuck calls out for his friend. Mark stands from his spot, nodding as he releases the smoke of his millionth cigarette. “Yeah, yeah. Just–” He lifts the stick between his fingers. “Can’t have one in there.” Mark chuckles, his vision removing itself from you two. 

“I’ll call you guys when I get to the apartment. Taeyong and mom are going to help me get the paintings out. Do you want me to do anything before I leave the key?” It was mostly directed at Donghyuck, that sliver of hope clinging tightly. You were the one to speak instead. 

“Maybe water the plants if they’re not dead yet.”

In recollection of what you two did together, Mark had remembered the plant you two helped sprout. The last time he paid attention to it, it was bright and green. Now he imagines it dull and dead. 

He nods with a tight lipped smile, inhaling from the warm cigarette butt. Silences lingered momentarily but Hyuck was the one to cut through it. “We’ll see you for your housewarming, alright?” Mark nods, standing when you two stopped clinging to each other.

“Take care, okay?” “Okay.” 

The hoarseness in his voice threatened him the longer he clung to Donghyuck. This was it for the two of them and he had thrown it out for lust. His only rock was leaving him. When it came to you, the hug wasn’t tight enough, something in his heart told him that you’ll be joining him soon.

But little by little as you and Donghyuck make way down the steps and out the platform, he wonders how much longer till you run back inside to get your ticket.

His hope had dwindled slowly back at the diner when you had cruelly crushed his expectations. Up until now that flame was left but not seeing even your locks had turned it off. All that is left is the delusional idea that you’d actually fall through with the plans he made for the both of you. Chances fell slim the closer last call came around. 

There was no trace of you or Hyuck outside the station, all there left was the cold winter with the addition of families or couples enjoying themselves oblivious to his pain dispersing through his entire body. 

His teeth shattered while he shivered, the cigarette in between his lips doing nothing for comfort or warmth; Mark was alone and cold. The only source of physicality came from the ticket staff to let him know this was the last call before the train left. He nodded, giving one last look around, feeling his face scrunch up after ridding of his cigarette. 

The cold bit him harshly, tears smeared his face holding back his sobs now that reality had settled. His cold hands wiped away the boiling streams that burnt his cheeks but it only made his skin ache more. He didn’t care if people could see his sorrow painted on his face. All he has now are memories, paintings, and pictures. 

He will never see you two again. 

taglist: @haknyeonsju @bbymatz @seungjiseyo @theskzvibe @wonyofanclub @lovingvoidgoatee

[injunism]

can you do renjun smut, if you're okay with that?

& that hyuck ff you wrote was really good btw!🖤

— thank you baby 🤍

you can't get enough of him.

his body was already flush against yours, pushing you deeper into the mattress, but you wanted him closer. if that was even possible. he trailed kisses across your chest, up your throat and along your jaw, mumbling, "your so fucking pretty" with each press of his lips.

one of his hands lingered between your legs, not yet touching you where you wanted him to, but grazing the soft flesh of your thighs instead. it drove you crazy and he knew it. you try to shift underneath him, to get him to touch you, but he smacks your thigh instead, "be still. I'll touch you when I'm ready."

you look up at him and make eye contact. his were dark with lust, eyes half hooded, a crooked smile plastered on his plush lips. sweat beaded on his hairline from your intermingling body heat. you stick out your lower lip, "i want you to touch me now!" a whine escapes your lips and for a brief second renjun looks like he's going to give in, but he detaches himself from your arms and sits back on his knees.

"beg then."

renjun was usually a gentleman in bed, but some nights, like this one, he wanted to be fully in control.

"rejnun-" you whine, closing your legs and propping yourself up on one elbow.

he crosses his arms against his chest in mock boredom. you knew he was anything but, as his cock was practically standing up against his abdomen. it was taking all his willpower not to grab you and sink himself into your sweet cunt.

"i'm not going to touch you until you beg for it." he slides a hand down his chest and palms his length, " i can always take care of myself instead."

your eyes grow luminous at the sight in front of you. renjun, all golden skin and muscle, stroking himself and looking down at you like you were his muse.

"please. i need you to touch me." you whine, your legs were moving restlessly, anything to gain friction, "i need your cock in me."

he looks down at you for a minute and then crawls over you, his face inches from yours. leaning down, he slots his lips of yours but hovers, whispering, "you're so pretty when you whine for me."

his lips meet yours, fitting like a perfect puzzle. he slides his tongue against yours, wanting to taste all of you. your sweet, perfume like scent that drives him crazy.

"just want you in me," it was almost maddening how he took his sweet time with you. "now."

"okay, pretty girl." he gently pushes your thighs apart and teases you with the head of his cock. you arch against him, wrap your arms around his neck and grab at his hair.

inch by inch he pushes deeper into you, until his hips were flush against yours. you moan against him as you try and adjust to his size. he wasn't huge, but it had been a while since the last time you guys had sex.

"i know you can take it baby, just hold onto me." your grip on his hair tightens when he moves out of you slowly, just to plunge himself back into you. He groans in your ear, his arms constricting you in a tight hug.

one thing you and renjun had in common, was that you wanted to feel all of each other during sex. you wanted to feel skin sliding against skin, his lips against yours, moans pouring into each others mouths.

you couldn't get enough of him.

[injunism]

the deal. || ldh

in which you never wanted to ask your stupid neighbor for help in chasing your dream man - but desperate times call for desperate measures - even if that meant giving lee donghyuck the satisfaction of parking his car in your spot.

word count: 3.5k

genre, warnings: fluff at the end, smidge of angst, slice of life, neighbor!au, high school!au, one sided enemies to lovers, mistaking admiration for love, very romcom movie there's a kiss in the rain scene somewhere in here, mark lee is in the same grade as the 00s for plot purposes, underage drinking, profanities

bgm: hits different by taylor swift, can i call you tonight? by dayglow, disaster by conan gray, i like me better by lauv, kiss goodnight by i dont know how but they found me

a/n: i read better than the movies and the whole time i was thinking "you know who this trope would look good on? hyuck." and thus this was birthed. there's a another neighbor!au in my drafts but the brainrot has taken over i'm afraid.

A proud grin, the tinkling of his keys, an annoying strut. These were all the qualities Lee Donghyuck sported in this very moment as he climbs out of his car. Perfectly parallel parked in the spot outside your house.

If only you were rich. You'd run your stupid neighbor over in a heartbeat then pay the bail to get out of jail. Instead, you wear a scowl reserved especially for the boy, click your tongue, and park a good five minute walk away.

Technically, the parking spot was between your house and the Lees next door. But technically, the spot was 60% on your side, and 40% on theirs. So technically, shouldn't that spot be yours? Why was your shit head of a neighbor adamantly trying to feud with you?

The five minute walk, lovingly dubbed the "walk of shame" by both you and your sworn enemy, would be a lovely three minute walk home - if not for the Kims on the corner who loved starting conversations with whoever passed by. On a good day, you would get away with two minutes of conversation ("Oh sorry Mrs. Kim, I have an assignment I just must get to."). Other days? You weren't so lucky.

"Four minutes? I think that might be a new record." Donghyuck gloats, leaning against his car.

"You were timing me?" You glare at his casual demeanor, wondering how he could possibly be so insufferable.

"Well, I have to know what I'm up against."

You snort, passing by the boy waving his keys around like a trophy, making sure your middle finger was up and in sight.

"Jealousy is a disease, babe." He sings as you slam the door shut behind you.

He really was insufferable.

You should've known.

When you agreed to go to Liu Yangyang's party on the condition that someone drive you, you would've thought he would send someone like Jaemin or Jeno - the duo that always seemed to be the assigned sober drivers. Looking back, you were naïve.

You should've known he'd send your neighbor.

Thus, leads you to the present. Lee Donghyuck in your kitchen, chatting up your mother while you hurriedly try to find your jacket before said mother gets any more charmed by the kid next door.

Truth be told, you were close to not going to the party at all. But then you caught wind that he'd be there and it'd be silly not to grab hold of any chance you could have to impress him.

Donghyuck watches you move around out of the corner of his eye and when you started to move towards the door, he knew you were ready. But he'd spend extra long bidding your mom farewell, just so you'd wait a few minutes longer. He always liked keeping you waiting.

"I never took you for a house partier." Donghyuck comments when the two of you enter his car. "Stop checking yourself out in the mirror, you look the same as always."

You flip the sun visor back up with a scoff. What's wrong with making sure your hair was laying the way you wanted it?

"I never thought you'd agree to drive me to a house party."

"What can I say? I love giving back to the community."

It was a mystery to you how Donghyuck was so beloved around both the town and school. He was sarcastic, petty, and most importantly, constantly went against you. Perhaps everyone was blinded by his attractiveness? He did have a pretty face.

"I get that my face is attractive, but you don't have to look so hard. I think you're staring holes into my lovely cheek."

Correction, he had a pretty face when his mouth was shut.

It was loud, you could feel the bass pumping through your body. Drunk teenagers littered the floor of Yangyang's suburban house, bouncing to the beat and having the time of their lives. Swerving through the crowd of bodies, you picked up on bits of gossip you were sure you weren't supposed to hear. But by the end of the night, you were sure you would've forgotten about whatever scandal Shotaro from biology got into anyway.

Somehow still together, you and your neighbor find the host mixing unidentifiable liquids together in a red solo cup on the kitchen counter.

"Yang, is that poison or alcohol?"

"How dare you, it's called "a good time.""

He offers you the cup, which you turn down. You know how drunk Yangyang likes to get at his parties. Therefore, you know that one sip of whatever was in that cup could probably send you to ER. And you refused to go to ER without at least getting one glance of your dream man.

A quick scan of the room told you that he wasn't here, at least, not within your radius.

"No alcohol for me tonight. I have to drive this one back."

You raised an eyebrow as Donghyuck declines Yangyang's "special blend".

"How responsible." You tease.

"Only because you're here. I don't want you dying at my hands." He counters, leaning back and meeting your gaze, smirk on his lips. "How would I ever face your mother again?"

"Yo, Haechan, dude, you finally made it." A familiar voice sounds.

Enter, Mark Lee. Star athlete, every teacher's favorite student, adorably awkward, and your crush of two months. You swore he had this glow around him that made everything he does so endearing, even when he accidentally sent a basketball flying to your head once.

"Oh, hey Y/N. Didn't know you were coming as well."

"Yeah! I came with Donghyuck! Well, not with him but he was my ride here and will be my ride home so-"

You really had to do something about your nervous rambling in front of Mark.

Mark stayed for a small conversation with your little group before someone hurled on Yangyang's bathroom tiles, not making it to the toilet in time. The host (grumbling about how he just cleaned it yesterday) went to sort it out, your crush in tow.

You stare fondly at his back disappearing into the crowd before you feel a hot breath on your neck.

"No way. You like Mark Lee."

The car ride home was painful for you. Despite your attempts to bargain with him the whole party so he would shut up, the boy behind the wheel spends the whole ten minute drive teasing you like an elementary schooler instead. The song about kissing in a tree involved.

"What is it about him that you like?" Donghyuck asks, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Why? So you can hold it against me for the rest of my life?"

"Wow, I'm offended. Who do you take me for? I would never."

You raise an unbelieving eyebrow at him, only to be met by his side profile in the moonlight. The silver light beams against his features and you only just realize the constellation of stars on his cheek. The light at the intersection flashes red and the car smooths to a stop, Donghyuck turns to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

Shit, isn't this kind of intimate?

"Fuck off." You cough out, swiveling your head to look out the window instead. "Eyes on the road, Lee."

"I'm a Lee, but not the Lee you want." He exclaims, following it with an overly dramatic sob.

Keeping a steady stare out the window, you try to calm your reeling mind. Eyes on the prize, Y/N.

The prize being Mark Lee, of course.

Speaking of which.

"Donghyuck, you're friends with Mark right?"

"Depends. Are you going to ask me to help you get with him?"

You sit up in your seat and make your best possible attempt at puppy dog eyes, "please? I wouldn't ask if I didn't have a choice."

It was true, begging Donghyuck was the last thing you ever wanted to do. But you weren't getting anywhere by yourself and they were friends so surely that could help your case? At least he could tell you what type of person Mark liked? Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Your neighbor goes silent, presumably thinking about this suggestion. "What would I get in return though?"

Of course he wasn't just going to help you for nothing. So you rack your brains for something you'd be willing to exchange.

The car turns into your familiar neighborhood, passing Mrs Kim's house. And as the car pulls into the parking spot in front of your house, you spill out, "I'll give you the parking spot."

Donghyuck's eyebrows go up at this suggestion and his signature smirk makes it's way back onto his face. He leans his arm against the back of your seat and you instinctively lean back, fighting the urge to wipe that stupid grin off him.

"You're willing to take the "walk of shame" everyday for him?"

You click your tongue, "the parking space. Take it or leave it."

He leans back, mouth still curved up. The distance lets you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"You make a compelling argument."

"Well?"

"Deal."

You give him a nod, moving to exit the car and crawl back into the comfortable sheets of your bed, but Donghyuck's hand on your arm stops you. In confusion, you look back at him.

"I'm not fake dating you though."

"Hyuck, this isn't "To All the Boys I've Loved Before". I would rather die than fake date you."

The corners of his lips quirk up into a smile - not a smirk - at his nickname. "Hyuck?"

"I'm going home."

True to his word, for the next couple of weeks Donghyuck actively played a part in nudging you and Mark together. However, as much as he tried to create chances for you and your crush to be alone, your habit of nervous rambling when making conversation didn't help at all. It's not your fault Mark has the prettiest eyes you've ever seen. Though, somewhere in the back of your mind lingers a mischievous pair that glimmered the same way stars twinkled that night he drove you home.

Ever since making the "Making Mark Lee Y/N's Boyfriend" pact with your neighbor, you've been spending a lot more time together than you've ever had in the past. Admittingly, you've been enjoying it.

When did you last laugh as hard as you did when he attempted to step over the fence separating your houses? ("I can do it, my legs are long enough. Watch.") The boy ended up stuck with one leg half over and the other dangling off and because he looked ridiculous, you ended up on the soft grass of your backyard, tears in the corners of your eyes as you laughed.

When was the last time you felt comfortable enough with a person to share your deepest insecurities with each other in the dead of the night? Texting him nothing but a sad emoji as the clock hits 3am, receiving a response almost immediately - "Can I call you?". Talking about your ambitions, dreams, and fears until the sun rose above the horizon and you both realized you had school in an hour.

That didn't mean you liked him or anything though, right?

You liked Mark.

Or so you thought.

Maybe?

Fuck. How dare Donghyuck confuse you like this.

Sometimes, you wonder how things turn out. How the smallest choices can lead you down a whole new path entirely. And how they all led to Lee Donghyuck currently being sprawled on his stomach on your bed, legs swinging in the air.

Right. You had a date with the other Lee. The one you allegedly had a crush on. Well, it wasn't a date per se. It was more of a one on one friendly hangout? Donghyuck had gotten movie tickets for both him and Mark - then ditched the day before and said you would go in his place. It was kind of genius.

"Okay, would Mark like this color better than the blue?" You ask, clothes strewn across the floor. A good chunk of your day had been spent digging through your closet looking for clothes you think Mark would like. Your neighbor couldn't care less about your crisis. He barely spared a glance up at you before he returned to whatever he was looking at on his phone.

"Looks good."

"Donghyuck, I need you to keep up your half of the deal."

The boy finally gives you his attention. Pulling himself up so that he's sitting on the edge on your bed, staring straight at you.

"Shouldn't you want him to like you as you are? There's no point doing all this-" He gestures to the mess, "-just to impress him. I think you'd look nice even if you chose to wear your pajamas out."

"But he doesn't like me. Not yet at least. That's why I have you to help me."

"...Right."

The atmosphere suddenly becomes stuffy. You wonder if you said the wrong thing because suddenly, the boy next door is leaving. It's not surprising given that the both of you spent half a day going through your wardrobe and he probably had things to do. But, you just can't shake the uneasy feeling.

"Hey, are we good? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, we're good. Good luck." Donghyuck says at your door, a smile unlike any of the previous ones you've seen gracing his face. It seemed forced.

A faint pitter patter of rain hitting the window panes sounds through the quiet room.

You hope he made it home without getting wet.

"Man, I didn't know you liked Spiderman too."

"Mmhm."

You made it to the theatres with Mark. You enjoyed watching the movie with Mark. You were getting driven home by Mark. You had a great time with your crush. So why was your mind still on a certain situation and a certain someone from before.

"My other friends all watched it on a day I got called into work so I was surprised when Haechan was willing to re-watch it with me - he's usually not that nice, you know?"

The edges of your mouth lift a little at the dig at Donghyuck. In front, the windshield wipers squeak a little, trying their best to rid the glass of rain droplets. The radio plays an old song in the background that Mark hums softly to, thumbs tapping in time on the wheel while waiting for the lights to turn green. It was cozy, but could never measure up to how intimate you felt in the car with Donghyuck.

"Then he dips last minute. Honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised. I was more surprised that you were coming instead though - I thought you would've wanted to watch it with Haechan."

Your brows furrow. "Why?"

"Oh - I thought you liked him."

The world around you stopped. Though the light turned green and the car was definitely moving now, you felt your entire body freeze.

"How did you come to that conclusion?"

Mark's confusion showed on his face, his emotions always did. That was one of the things you liked about him. Or so, you thought.

"Well, for starters, you're much more comfortable around him. I don't know if that's just because you always tense up when I'm around. I'm sorry if I've done anything to make you uncomfortable by the way, it was never my intention."

Mark Lee, your supposed crush, thought you were uncomfortable around him. You lean your head against the window of his car, it was nice and cool. Perfect as you let yourself ponder.

You always were unnecessarily nervous around him - but wasn't that normal? You liked him. You liked his smile, how he was able to win the favors of everyone around him so easily, how he was always reliable, how good he was at sports- oh.

It was never romantic.

You didn't know anything about Mark. You never even had a proper conversation with him. What he liked to do in his spare time, what his plan was for the future, what stupid habit he has, what he sounds like over the phone at 3am. You had no idea.

But you knew what Donghyuck liked to do in his spare time, what he wanted to do in the future, what his stupid habit was, what he sounded like over the phone at 3am.

Fuck.

And it all came rushing to you all at once.

The prize was always something shiny, blazing, and brilliant. It was something you wanted but would put on a shelf to admire. Mark Lee was your prize. Someone you admired. He was never someone you imagined having debates with for the rest of your life. He was never someone you imagined spending rainy days indoors together with.

Perhaps, after all this time, the prize wasn't what you were after. Perhaps, what you really wanted was to spend time with-

"No way."

"Hm?"

"I like Lee Donghyuck."

Your admiration for Mark was a luminous, fleeting feeling that you mistook for love. Love was never about having to dress like a different person to impress them. Love was laughing together at the smallest things, showing up in two week old pajamas and still thinking they're the most beautiful being you've laid eyes on, and sometimes, love was fighting over a parking spot outside your house.

Mark grins. "Great. He's been in love with you since third grade."

"What?'

"Why do you think he's never dated before? All this time, he's been waiting for you to realize."

"I'm glad we got closer today," Mark mentions, pulling onto your street, "you seem a lot more comfortable now."

Yeah, because you no longer thought Mark was your dream man. A weight was taken off your shoulders now and you didn't feel the need to keep up an act around him anymore.

"Thanks for today."

"Hey dude, no worries. Just let me know if you need any help wooing Haechan alright? I love helping couples get together."

"...Didn't you try before with two other couples?"

"...Yeah... They didn't turn out how I thought they would."

The two of you share a laugh before you clamber out of his vehicle and wave him goodbye from your porch. The rain had started pouring down from the grey skies but your fingers hesitate at your door.

Fuck it.

Instead of walking into your warm and dry house, you decide to brave the rain and run over to your neighbor's, splashing through the puddles without care. It soaked the clothes you spent forever deciding on and ruined your meticulously done hair, but urgent times call for urgent measures.

Two knocks and the door swings open, revealing the boy next door behind. His eyes widen at the sight of you taking heaving breaths on his doorstep, hair and clothes complete wet and still getting pelted on by the rain.

"Did he hurt you?"

The urge to laugh bubbles through you. He was always putting you first. All this time, he was helping you chase another man. He was ready to give up on his chance with you if that meant you had a chance of being happy with someone else. Even now, after you'd hurt him, he was still worried about you.

"Lee Donghyuck, I'm in love with you."

For a while, everything's silent. Even the rain fell mute on your ears. All you could see was your rival's jaw open in shock and his Adams apple bobbing up and down trying to find the words to say. It was quite a satisfying view.

Then you start rambling as panic settles in. The need to apologize for hurting him, how you actually felt about Mark, how you found out about your feelings. Old habits die hard.

Except, not even a full sentence into your unplanned speech, Donghyuck steps out of his house, into the rain, and cuts you off with his warm, soft lips on yours. You stumble back, not expecting the sudden weight on you, and the two of you fall back onto the wet, cold grass on his front yard.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that."

His face was as close to yours as physically possible, eyes gazing lovingly over your features, wanting to soak every second of this moment in.

"Let me guess, since third grade?"

"I knew Mark couldn't be trusted."

Laughter claims you both before you pull him in by the collar for another kiss. There were grass stains on your clothes, it was cold and muddy, and the two of you will definitely end up with a cold the next day, but somehow, in that moment, you felt as though the world was yours.

"I kept my end of the deal."

"What do you mean?"

"You ended up getting a boyfriend with the name "Lee". I think that means I get the parking spot."

You smile.

"I'd happily do the walk of shame for you."

[injunism]

a little TMI between friends

summary: sunwoo breaks reader’s brain with a little unexpected overshare, but then he takes the initiative to fix it – so really, everyone is a winner here

pairing: sunwoo x f!reader 

word count: ~3.9k

genre: smut, friends to lovers

contains: adult content (this is 18+ folks), humor, teasing, petnames, dirty talk, unprotected!sex, creampie, fingering

prompt: “Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

this one's for @biaswreckingfics because she humors me and I just love her, okay?

It probably wouldn’t have taken you quite as by surprise if you and Sunwoo hadn’t been just sitting there on the riverfront, eating ice cream cones, of all things. But you were enjoying what you thought was a perfectly innocent afternoon sweets break with your friend. Your obviously very attractive friend, but a friend nonetheless – and not the kind with benefits. 

So when you caught him staring at your mouth, mid-lick at your ice cream, you didn’t think that much of it. You laughed. “What?” When he didn’t look away, you brought the hand not holding your cone up to your lips, wiping at them. “Do I have ice cream on my face or something?”

Which was when Sunwoo turned your world upside down, finally lifting his gaze from your ice cream to your eyes.

“Not to make things weird, but I thought about you when I came last night.”

He just. Blurted that out.

And thank God it was ice cream you were eating and you’d already swallowed because otherwise, you definitely would have choked. “I’m – I’m sorry, what?” 

Smirking, he reached up to brush your hand aside and replace it with his own, his thumb wiping the melted white liquid that yes, was there from the corner of your mouth and bringing it to his own. You stared, dumbstruck, and suddenly feeling a little warm, when he sucked the digit into his mouth. 

His eyes flashed with mischief, having caught the way your breath hitched and your pupils dilated. “I thought about you when I came last night,” he repeated. Lifting an arm to rest against the back of the bench behind you, he turned his attention to the river and resumed licking his ice cream. 

Okay, so the good news was you hadn’t hallucinated what he’d said. 

The less good news was that you were rendered speechless because your brain happily volunteered to fill in the blanks. It was playing a mental image of Sunwoo lying in bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking, thumb gathering pre-come from the head and coating himself with – your gaze zeroed in on his hands and you squirmed. Sunwoo with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and his breath coming in sharp pants, while he moaned your name – now you turned your attention to his mouth, riveted by the sight of his tongue taking long licks of his ice cream. Your mental imaginings then shifted to what that tongue would feel like licking you and those hands holding your thighs open for him. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

Forcing your unruly eyes shut (because that was the only way you could stop staring at him and being jealous of ice cream, for God’s sake), you swallowed back the nervous laugh threatening to bubble up. “I’m, um, not sure what you want me to do with that information? You’re welcome?” 

Sunwoo chuckled, sending you a wicked grin. “What do you want to do with that information?”

“I – I want to bleach my brain. Sunwoo, honey, what you do in the privacy of your room is – I mean, it’s totally up to you and it’s okay, it’s great! But, uh, I don’t think –” you rambled and rambled. Clearly flustered, you shifted restlessly on the bench, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks, rapidly spreading down and across your chest. 

“Liar,” he tutted and leaned into you like he was going to tell the most illicit secret. “Like you’ve never thought about me in the moment – you have my permission, by the way. Feel free to get as creative as you’d like.” 

Could a person choke on their own words? Like literally? Or maybe their tongue? Because you didn’t have anything else in your mouth at that moment, but the noise you made was some kind of a choked something. It took you several tries for your lips to start working again and a whole lot of effort to pretend his whispered words didn’t go straight to your core and that your oh-so-helpful brain wasn’t acting up again. 

“How generous! I’ll make sure there are lots of bindings, then.” You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips, gaze dropping to his mouth. “Maybe a gag, actually.” 

Sunwoo winked at you and stood, then held his hand out to you. “That’s my girl! Come on; I’ll drop you off back at home on my way to the studio.” 

You took his hand and let him pull you up, shaking your head at his antics, still baffled by the turn of events but also happy to let it go. 

Certain you could and would let it go. 

If only that were true. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were going to kill him. 

You just were. It had been a week – a whole week – and every day and night during that week you’d had visions of naked Sunwoo in your head. It didn’t even matter where you were at the time. 

Have a moment of downtime at work? Check! Your imagination decided that was the perfect time to picture him bending you over your desk and pounding into you from behind. 

Lunch with a friend? Absolutely. Could I interest you in a daydream about Sunwoo drizzling the chocolate sauce you’d had with dessert over your body and licking it off? 

Date? That was just too easy. Why not think about Sunwoo dragging you to the restroom, pushing you against the door, and fucking you into oblivion? That particular fantasy was extra fun because your brain decided to add on the cocky, knowing smile he got sometimes as imaginary Sunwoo sent you back out to your date with his come dripping down your legs. 

Trying to sleep? Hah! It wasn’t visions of sugarplums dancing in your head, but visions of him lying in his own bed and getting himself off to the thought of you. Honestly, you had all but given up getting actual rest this week. 

By the time Friday night rolled around, you were pretty sure you would spontaneously orgasm if someone looked at you the wrong way. Because like hell would you give in and actually masturbate to these stupid fantasies. You just knew he would see it written all over your damned face. Suffice it to say, you had never been more sexually frustrated and you were starting to snap at people.

So yeah. You were going to kill him. 

Which was exactly what you told him at 12:02 AM on Friday night/Saturday morning when you texted him after flopping around uncomfortably in bed for the last several hours, sliding under the covers then flinging them off of you, and repeat. Ad nauseum.

You: I’m going to kill you, just so you know.

Sunny-Boy: What? Why? What did I do?

You: Don’t play innocent with me, mister. You know exactly what you did.

Those three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. 

Sunny-Boy: Do I? I’ve done lots of things, so you may need to elaborate.

You: Ha. Ha.

You: You broke my brain! There’s not enough bleach in the world to fix it and I think I’m starting to go loopy from lack of sleep. :( 

Needing to do something – anything – other than lie there in a state of perpetual horniness, you dropped your phone onto the other pillow and went to splash water on your face. This was ridiculous. You were a grown-ass woman. A woman with a healthy sense of her sexuality and a robust – well, all right, so you hadn’t had sex with someone else in like a year, but you certainly weren’t hurting for orgasms. And yet, here you were. Pandora’s Box had been opened and the damned thing wouldn’t let you shut it again, no matter how hard you tried. 

The sound of your doorbell ringing reached you and your brows furrowed in confusion. Flipping the lights off, you exited the bathroom and glanced over at the clock on your nightstand. 12:20 AM. You turned your gaze toward the front door, silently debating on whether to answer, or whether it was someone who’d had a little too much to drink ringing the wrong doorbell. 

Curiosity won out, though, when the doorbell rang again. 

Your eyes widened when you opened the door to find Sunwoo standing there – or more accurately, lounging there – bracing himself against the door frame with a hand on either side, and giving you a look laced with knowing, with capital ‘T’ Trouble. “Sunwoo, what…” you started, words trailing off as you really let yourself look at him, from his grey sweats to his black hoodie (that you were like 80% sure he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, based on the skin you saw peeking out where it wasn’t fully zipped), to the smirk he wore. 

The smirk he wore. Goddamn it. You tore your gaze from his lips, still curved in that self-satisfied way, and brought it up to meet his. 

“I broke your brain, huh?” 

Your brain chose that moment to really focus on what you might find if you were to – very helpfully, of course – just unzip his hoodie the rest of the way. What? Fuck. No. You were going to kill him, not sleep with him. 

You nodded, stepping back and pulling the door all the way open, gesturing for him to enter. “Yes? But did you seriously come all the way over here to ask me that, you weirdo?”

“Nah. That was just me confirming something,” he said as he walked in and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it and let his eyes sweep over you, something about which you could almost feel, especially when his gaze lingered on your breasts, nipples pebbling from the cold (definitely the cold), and the short hem of the t-shirt you wore to bed that night. 

Yeah, if you didn’t end up sleeping with him, you were going to get yourself a medal. Something big and gaudy and – 

“I actually figured that if I broke you, I should be the one to fix you.” His voice was a purr, the vibrations of which you absolutely felt in your cunt, which chose that moment to clench. 

Oh, fuck it. “You really should.”

Sunwoo pushed off the wall, then, walking toward you until he entered your space, reaching up and tucking your hair behind your ear. “You gonna let me, beautiful? Say the word and I will.”

“Sunwoo, if your annoyingly pretty lips aren’t on mine in the next thr– mmph.” It took him less than two seconds for his hand to slide around your head to catch the hair at your nape and his mouth to cover yours, lips brushing against yours, tongue sweeping out to taste the seam of your lips and silently urging you to part them.

A request you were more than happy to oblige because his lips felt as soft as they looked and you’d been wanting this for…far longer than you would admit. You looped your arms around his shoulders and leaned your weight into him, breath catching in the back of your throat at the heat and solidity of him. Yes, okay. You knew he worked out and had seen the man at the pool but feeling him pressed against you, from sternum to thigh, was something else entirely. 

The hand not in your hair came to rest at your waist, drawing your hips together, and the moan he let out into your mouth sent a bolt of pure, unadulterated lust straight to your center. He drew back enough to meet your gaze and the fire burning in his left you weak in the knees. 

The hunger in your own eyes pulled a curse from him and he was bending down to grab you by the back of your thighs, voice having dropped an octave as he instructed you, “Up,” lifting while you jumped and helping to guide your legs around his hips. 

You both cursed then, at the press of his cock, already hard and straining against his sweats, into the wet heat between your thighs. 

“B-Bed,” you gasped, squirming against him. “Now – now.” You loosened your hold on his shoulders just enough to let yourself drop a bit, his grip tightening and lifting you back up giving you the perfect kind of friction right where you needed it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Yeah, okay.” His hands moved to squeeze your ass, holding you in place and grinding himself into you long enough to pull a whimper from you, before he was carrying you to your room and dropping you onto your bed. 

Sunwoo stared down at you while he unzipped his hoodie and slipped his arms out of it, tossing it to the side. You watched, eagerly taking in the sight of every inch of skin he bared for you, pressing your thighs together and fisting the duvet in your hands. He was unfairly beautiful, standing over you, chest rising and falling rapidly and palming himself through his sweats, lower lip caught between his teeth and tongue darting out to wet it. 

Guh.

“Been thinking about me that much this week?” 

“Huh?”

His next out breath was a laugh and then his hands were on your knees, pushing your legs apart so he could kneel between them on the bed. “I guess I really did break you, didn’t I, baby?” He brought a hand to rest by your shoulder, the other sliding up your leg and bringing your sleep shirt up with it, focus shifting between your eyes and the skin he was uncovering. His gaze was molten once your panties came into view.

Swallowing hard, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, parting your thighs farther, giving him the space to press closer. “Yeah. Kept thinking about –” You gasped again when his fingers drifted to trace a line up your slit, panties sliding easily against your folds with how wet you were. “Thinking about this, thinking about you, God, Sunwoo, please.”

“Good,” he said, dropping down to brace his weight on his forearm, and suddenly you could feel his breath on your face. Feel the way it hitched and hear the rasp in his voice when he slipped the cotton off of you and his fingers returned to stroke your cunt, teasing at your entrance then moving to rub against your clit. “Fuck, you’re wet. Been wanting to feel you like this since we met,” he admitted your hips jerked up into his touch. “Soaked for me, so damn hot.”

Stupid. He was stupid. You were stupid. Whatever. You were both idiots. Just –

“Y-You're touching me now, just – just don’t stop,” you demanded, fisting a hand in his hair and tugging his face down so you could kiss him. Lips and tongues slipping against each other, sharing breath, while his fingers slid around and around your clit, each rotation ratcheting the tension within you tighter. 

You whined when he moved his fingers, lips already open to complain, but then he replaced them with his thumb while he slid those fingers into your pussy, curled them, and started a steady thrusting, tearing a cry from you when they found your front wall. “Oh, f-f-fuck, please, Sunwoo, please,” you whimpered, you mewled, you gasped. 

“I’ve got you, beautiful,” he crooned. “Just like that. So pretty, taking my fingers. Can’t wait for you to take my cock.”

A whole body shiver went through you then and your gaze locked to his, a breath away from shattering. “God, I want – I want.”

“Come around my fingers and I’ll give you what you want, baby.” He groaned, nipping at your lower lip, then tracing a line along your jaw to nip at your earlobe and whisper against your ear. “What we both want. I’ll fuck you like we’ve both been desperate for since I told you I got myself off thinking about you.”

Your orgasm crashed into you then, visions of your fantasies over the past seven days, of him with his hand wrapped around the cock you still hadn’t seen, hadn’t touched, but so fucking would, the sight of him now, so close, his own need written plainly on his face, his fingers – his fingers – him. Your pussy pulsed around those fingers while your body trembled beneath him.

Shit, you were gorgeous, coming apart for him. Sunwoo clenched his jaw, willing himself to wait until you came down from your orgasm. To not just shove his sweats down and fuck himself into you right then and there. Instead, he ground his hips down into the bed beneath him, trying to take in every minute change in your expression. 

Once your shaking stopped and your eyes fluttered back open, you caught and kept his gaze while your palms came to rest against his chest. Your fingertips teased at his nipples and then slid down his torso to slip beneath the waistband of his pants, and you bit at your bottom lip when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything under them. You paused there, toying with the fabric and letting the back of your fingers brush against his lower abdomen. 

He groaned, hand coming up to the other side of you, forearm mirroring the other, holding himself over you while he dropped his hips and pressed his dick into your cunt, letting the heat from you sink into him and teasing you in turn with a slow thrust.

Screw it. You could play games next time.

You stopped teasing, instead taking hold of his sweats and carefully pushing them down his hips, shoving at them with your feet once your arms couldn’t reach any further, too impatient to draw this out any longer. 

It seemed like Sunwoo had the same idea because he was kicking them the rest of the way off and in the next moment, his cock was slipping through your folds, coating himself in your arousal and groaning your name against your lips. 

But he wasn’t inside you yet and that wasn’t okay. 

Your hand came down to wrap around him, stroking along the length of his dick, rubbing the head against your clit, and sliding it down to press against your entrance. His hips jerked instinctively, his tip dipping inside you, and you nearly saw stars at the stretch of your opening around him. 

You whimpered, tilting your pelvis up, an invitation – a plea – for more, for deeper. “Thought – thought you said – said you’d fuck me –” You sucked in a sharp breath. “You gonna t-tease me all night or what?” 

“Keep mouthing off –” he said in a breathy laugh, pressing the rest of the way inside you before drawing his hips back and snapping them forward again. “I just might.” 

Except he didn’t and you couldn’t. 

His lips covered yours again, tongue slipping inside to tangle with yours, while he started a slow rhythm with his hips. Feeling and letting you feel every inch of him as he pressed forward, every catch of his cock at the entrance to your pussy on each pull back. 

Sunwoo moaned, thrusting forward, deep, and pelvis grinding into your clit, shaking with the force of holding himself back. “Fuck, baby, you feel – so fucking tight,” he hissed into the kiss, teeth gently biting at your lower lip, and fingers finding purchase in your hair. 

He pressed his forehead to yours, gasping down at you, staring up at him with those intoxicating eyes. Let himself revel in the fact that he was inside you and it was his name you were panting, it was him you were clinging to and begging. So damn pretty. So fucking gorgeous in your need.

“God, you just – harder, please,” you whined, nails scratching at his back hard enough you both knew he’d be wearing your marks tomorrow. “Faster. I just need you to – S-Sunwoo…” 

“You need me to – fuck – take you hard, huh?” Sunwoo released your hair to squeeze your waist, willing himself not to come right then and there, high on how much you wanted him after a goddamn year of wanting you and having to watch you be oblivious. 

“M-mhmm.” 

“Mmm.” He pulled out and you whimpered, but then he was guiding you onto your hands and knees, bent over you with his hands covering yours, lacing your fingers together. He gently nipped at the crook of your neck, sucking a mark into the delicate skin beneath your ear. “I’ll give you what you need, baby. Gonna take you like you’re mine, yeah?” With that, he was thrusting back into your cunt, burying his cock into you to the base, and your vision went black at the sound of his skin slapping against yours. 

Words. 

What were words? 

You needed to reply to that. 

Needed to tell him that yes, exactly that, wanna be yours and maybe you did. Probably did because Sunwoo let out what sounded like a growl in the back of his throat and his front was no longer pressed to your back because he was upright, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, while he fucked his dick into you, thrusts harsh and fast, leaving your head spinning and your body on high alert, pushing back into him with each thrust.

Your arms felt like liquid, wobbly and useless, but you didn’t fall on your face – he was too quick for that, drawing you up against him, your back flush to his chest, and – “Oh, fuck, there, Sunwoo,” you said on a gasp, the angle allowing him to hit in just the right spot, and you were putty in his arms. Dropping your head to rest on his shoulder, your fingers finding and lacing through his at your waist. 

His free hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fisting in your hair and turning your face for his kiss, voice a low rumble against your lips. “C’mon, beautiful. Looked so pretty when you came around my fingers earlier… let me feel that needy pussy come on my cock.”  

You did. 

With one last snap of his hips, you came apart, your whole body quivering, pulsing around him, his name falling breathlessly from your lips again and again. Sunwoo cursed, the hand on your waist squeezing while he pumped himself into you half a dozen more times and then he was holding you tightly to him, his other arm wrapped around your torso while he spilled himself inside you, filling your cunt with his come. 

Sunwoo gasped your name, pressing kisses to your nape, your jaw, your shoulder, any place he could reach, while he held you through the aftermath and aftershocks from your orgasms. He gently guided you onto your back and beneath the covers once you both regained your breath, and slid an arm around you when you curled up against his side. 

“I think you may have broken me in a different way this time,” you said into his chest, lips forming a pout. 

“What? How?” He genuinely sounded worried as he turned to look at you, concern marring his brow. “Did I hurt you?”

Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his lips, then smiled against them. “No, you goober. I’m just definitely not gonna be able to think of you as just a friend after this. You’ve ruined m–” your words broke off on a gasp as Sunwoo rolled you onto your back and leaned over you, grinning down at you. 

“So what you’re saying is my evil plan worked?” he teased, eyes lit with warmth, tender and affectionate. 

You arched an eyebrow, but brought a hand up to softly stroke against the skin of his cheek, mirth in your gaze. “You planned this?”

He scoffed, expression playful. “You think I accidentally told you I got off thinking about you?”

“I – Did you actually masturbate to thoughts of me?”

“More times than I can count, beautiful.”

Your response was to roll on top of him and crash your lips into his.

Round Two, anyone?

[injunism]

SOME GUY!

pairings: mark lee x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, heated moments tropes: close friends to lovers?, mark avoids u because he's stupid, taeyong as your perfect ex who's still in love w u, u kiss mark's face to shut him up. warnings: mint ice-cream slander, mark is some guy, skinship, college frat party, not proofread.

author's note: haha guess who's in their mark phase hhhhh... sorry he's just such an interesting guy i could write him all day long. either way!!! more mark appreciation, less depression <3

—

at the end of the day, mark really was just some guy.

that’s what he thought to himself everytime he sat down to really consider the reality of all things. he doesn’t mean to get all self-deprecating and emo like that, but it was just a neutral truth thing that kinda hurts the first time you realize it but then it’s just the obvious thing in your daily life. but of course, if he ever did tell someone that he always felt like some guy among a bunch of cool guys, regardless of their gender, he would have to sit through one of those ultimately useless and pitiful speeches about how talented he really was.

— “you know what? you’re right!”

mark’s thoughts zap off their route when he hears you agree with his remark a few seconds ago. honestly, he hadn’t been completely sure if you’d heard him because of the lack of reaction you’d given him. but when you suddenly chuckle and agree with him, mark chokes over the stream of dr pepper in his throat.

he coughs desperately, “wait, what?”

your smile widens, “you’re just some guy. that’s like the perfect description of you.”

under normal circumstances, mark thinnks he would’ve been offended by how certain you sound. but the way you say it? it’s not like you’re trying to be mean or condescending… more like you’re just saying the truth. the neutral truth thing…

“i can’t believe you,” mark mutters, face splitting in a laugh, “i can’t believe you’re agreeing with me!” you look slightly confused but continue, “don’t tell me you’re hurt? you were the one who brought it up!”

mark shakes his head, controlling his laughter, still slightly losing his mind. “you’re really something, bro. i just didn’t expect you to actually be honest.” he laughs again, taking a sip of his drink again, becoming aware that he was being too loud for a bookstore. thankfully though, on a brief glance around, nobody seemed to care.

you fiddle with the zipper of your pencil pouch in thought. then, a shrug as you look back at mark, “hmm, isn’t that funny. i’m some thing, you’re some guy.”

mark falls into another fit of laughter before he knows it, disbelieving more than anything over your badly disguised shamelessness. you hold in a laugh as you land the last punch to his gut, “the perfect pair, isn’t it?” — the punch that sends him right into an oblivion of a world where nothing except you makes sense.

(ok perhaps, mark was being a tad dramatic. you know what he means though: he’s smitten.)

—

if someone were to kidnap you for the purposes of interrogating your honesty behind your claims that you thought mark was some guy, you’d probably get shot in the head instead, because there was no way you were letting anyone in on the information that you did not actually consider mark some guy.

maybe, a little, yes, but at this point, the phrase ‘some guy’ needs some more definiton. some guy as in boring and bland and dry and overdone? absolutely not. if that was what mark was, you wouldn’t have been committing every last one of your wednesday evenings, aka the only free evenings you ever get, to sitting in a crowded bookstore to pretend to do homework with him. you never did homework with mark around.

mark was the kind of some guy that was just being himself. yeah, that’s all you got. mark was mark. good explanation.

“bro? y/n, you good?”

you blink, finding mark swaying in front of you. you were currently sat on a bench near the building where your next class was.

“uhh, sorry,” you take off your headphones to look up at mark, “what are you doing on this part of campus?”

mark shrugs with a playful smile, “why can’t i be here?”

“because you literally don’t take any classes in the econ department?”

he shrugs again, “what if i’ve changed my ways? we’re still young and free, y/n, think a little outside the box, won’t you?”

“you’re taking econ? how- how did you-?”

“oh, look at that,” mark cuts you off, holding up his phone in front of your face. the time reads 11:05 am. “it’s time for our class. let’s go.” you’re busy processing his words (our class???) when he pulls you by the arm and toward the hall behind you.

and that’s the story of how you go from knowing absolutely nobody in your econ class, to sitting next mark in the extremely damp and cramped chairs of your econ class which means your arm is constantly touching his which you, for some reason, don’t hate. probably because the chilly fall wind coming through the window next to mark always makes you glad for the warmth.

mark, on the other hand, smiles a small smile whenever you shuffle closer because even though, the guy (doyoung is his name?) in front of him is always asking him to close the window, he would rather not.

—

“you’re kidding? ice-cream? in this fucking weather?” you question mark, coughing a fake cough to make your point.

“what are you, a coward?”

when you give mark an unimpressed look, he breaks a laugh, grabbing hold of you by your elbow. cheekily, he says, “please. for me?”

you frown, feeling your resolve crumble under his stupid gaze, “i hate you,” you say but let mark pull you after him into the tiny corner shop.

the two of you huddle over the menu of the ice-cream shop, and you exclaim quietly, “oh! i’ve been wanting to try their raspberry choco flavor for a while!” mark looks between you and menu, “ah, really? that sounds kinda good.”

then, he shifts to look at the girl behind the counter, “uhh, we’ll have one mint chocolate and one raspberry choco, please.” you gasp at mark’s choice, “m-mint chocolate?! mark. i think i might break up with you.”

mark is too busy reddening at your joke that hits too close to home to notice the worker chuckling at you. she processes your orders and mark has time to recover.

when he looks back at you, you’re still grimacing. “i didn’t think you could get any worse.”

“are you sure you should be saying that to someone who’s treating you to icecream?”

“huh?” your eyes widen and then you smile, “ahhh, i see. i wasn’t aware you were bribing me into have a favorable opinion of you.” before mark can retort though, you continue with a smirk, “i’m not complaining though.”

your smirk both flusters and scares mark because it’s evidence you’re upto no good in your head but before he can air his suspicion, you’re reaching out for the two cones of icecream that the girl is handing out.

“you guys are really cute together,” the worker remarks shyly, giving you a thumbs up of approval.

mark chokes on the first bite of his mint choco icecream. you look at mark and he expects you to shut down the worker swiftly, but then you reach for his hand, pulling him closer with a bashful smile and say, “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“uh-?” you cut mark’s question off by pulling him out of the store after you.

when you’re outside, you burst into laughter at the perplexed look on mark’s look, looking absolutely adorable next to his already melting green blob of an abomination.

—

the next morning, mark is still suffering through it, unable to come to terms with your actions yesterday. they were honestly not out of character for you. you were always one to do shit just because you knew it would get a reaction out of someone else. like, that time you didn’t tell mark he had spinach in his teeth the whole time he was speaking in econ and only told him at the end. yeah, sure, but surely that was different from you pretending that you and mark were together. right?

mark’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes next to his pillow. he stirs to his side, opening his phone only to find a text from you.

y/n: fuck u

mark’s heart skips a beat, no matter the fact that you’re swearing at him the first thing in the morning.

mark: what did i do now…

y/n: it’s ur fault

mark: ???

y/n: i’m fuckin sick

“oh, fuck,” mark swears, sitting up with a frown, fingers quickly shooting a flurry of concerned texts back.

mark: oh shit really?

mark: im so sorry

mark: how bad is it?

y/n: it’s just a cold, dw not that bad

mark: what does that mean?

you, however, don’t bother to elaborate any more on your condition, going silent.

he groans, guilt settling in the slouch of his shoulder as he stares at his screen for a solid 10 minutes before giving up on your response. as he gets ready for the day, at the top of mark’s to do list is to visit your dorm room with medicine and snacks.

but by the time 3 pm rolls around, mark finds himself constantly distracted by classes and homeowork. he looks at the time and sighs. you hadn’t managed to get back to him. but considering how he hadn’t seen you in econ or lunch, your cold was more than ‘not bad’.

sitting outside the library to collect his thoughts, he spots chaewon, your roommate. the two of you had run into mark on a grocery shopping errand and mark had had a decent enough conversation to make him run up to chaewon.

“oh!” chaewon is surprised at first when mark blocks her way with a quick hey. “oh hey, mark!”

“um,” mark looks at the take-out box in her hands, “um, is that for y/n?”

“oh, yeah. did you hear? she woke up this morning with a fever.”

“a fever?”

“yeah, it was pretty high too. i had to force her to stay in bed or i think she would’ve just gone to class like the dumbass she is.”

mark frowns, “oh, no. has she eaten all day?”

chaewon hums in thought, “she told me she was fine for breakfast. i’m not sure if she had lunch though so i was just going to take some pizza and salad in case she’s been starving.”

mark’s frown deepens as she adds, “oh i better hurry though! i have to get back here in time for my dance practice.”

“ah…” he scratches his head, “uhh, if you’re busy, i wouldn’t mind dropping it off to y/n.”

chaewon raises an eyebrow, “wait, really? you’d do that?”

“um, yeah. it’s my fault she got sick anyway. i made her eat icecream last night.”

she laughs, “a little icecream wouldn’t have done that. but sure! it’d be a great help, if you did that. thanks, mark.”

mark hadn’t thought this through, he realizes when he reaches the door that reads y/n on the door, right next to chaewon. he takes a deep breath, clearing his throat, before knocking on the door. “y/n?” his voice breaks mid-sentence and he wants to hide in a hole somewhere, but you’re quick to throw your door open.

your hair is up in a bun which bobs in rhythm with your head, when you find mark outside your room, “mark? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“you weren’t responding to my texts,” he mumbles, and then holds up chaewon’s takeout box in one hand and in the other, the bag of medicine and snacks he’d packed. “i come bearing gifts though.”

you cough hoarsely into your elbow, pulling at the hem of your green hoodie as you consider mark in front of you. “you could’ve told me you were coming,” you sound… shy? mark thinks as he follows into your room after you gesture him to enter.

he looks at your bed and chuckles at the mess that is your bed. then, he smiles as he looks at the eccentric yet coherent collage of pictures and letters on your wall. “this is so you,” he comments and places the food and medicine on your table.

you pout, “a room that looks like all hell broke lose… is me? wow, thanks, mark.”

mark wants to refute your comment, he does, but then he gets distracted by how the way you say his name in your hoarse inside voice and he coughs a little. “i got you medicine though?” he sounds squeaky to his own ears.

you smile though at that, looking inside the bag he’s kept. “ahhh, ramen! i knew i could count on you, mark lee.”

mark almost wants to beg you to stop saying his name so much. but instead he shoots you a thumbs up, “how are you holding up?”

you nod in thought, still unpacking everything mark bought, “hmm, i’m alive. you should’ve seen me in the morning though i felt like something was trying to crawl out my skin.”

you laugh at the imagery, pausing when you catch the guilty look on mark. you already know he’s about to apologize when he opens his mouth. you hold up a finger threateningly, “i know i said that in the morning, but it’s not actually your fault. i always get sick like this every time fall rolls around.”

“no, for real though, i did force you to come eat icecream with me, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

“ugh, mark, trust me, i wouldn’t have eaten the icecream if i really didn’t want to,” you say, too kindly for your usual snarkiness as if you can sense how genuine mark’s apology was, “for real, my body’s just weird like that.”

when mark remains silent for another minute, you groan, “i know! you can repay me. stay and we can watch a movie or something. all the sleeping’s making me feel gross. plus, i couldn’t eat all this food myself.”

and that’s how mark finds himself settled next to you on your bed, blanket covering half his body, watching gilmore girls (your fall preference of entertainment, it seems). the first half hour went by fine, with one of you commenting ocassionally at something the characters did, but then you shifted closer to mark with a cough.

he was shocked at first but then he wonders if the medicine you’d taken before were starting to take effect. (he’d questioned how wise it was for you to be taking them before watching something, but he also didn’t want to make your condition worse.)

“you good, y/n?” he mumbles under his breath when he feels your head come to rest against his shoulder. he sounds surprisingly calm for the turmoil that is bursting within his veins at the contact.

you hum in acknowledgement, sniffing a little, “yeah, just a little sleepy.”

“oh, you should probably rest then,” mark reaches for the spacebar to pause the episode but your cold hand pulls his finger away. except you don’t let go of his finger, instead seeming to crave warmth, you’re suddenly holding his hand, icy fingertips coming to rest against the back of his palm.

mark’s hearbeat is in his ears by now but he lets you hold his hand as you protest, “mm, don’t wanna sleep. just keep watching.”

you don’t sound promising but he doesn’t argue, letting you having the final say in this situation.

five minutes later though, you stir against mark’s side, arm now in his lap and… yeah, you’re falling asleep.

mark freezes at the realization when he sees your eyelashes fluttering shut. oh god. oh no… this wasn’t good for his well-being. or his obsession with you. or anything.

he clears his throat, hating himself, “um, y/n?”

you don’t respond except for a short grunt that indicates you don’t intend to wake up. he doesn’t have the heart to move you but also, this wasn’t right, was it?

there wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, except of course the fact that it did not help mark’s big fat ugly crush on you or the fact that he spent the whole day thinking about how you were sick and it was his fault.

you move slightly in your sleep, suddenly seeming to come to. your eyes open a little, “mark?” your voice is dangerously low.

“yeah?” mark can hear the nerves in his voice.

you’re pulling him now, without a warning, onto your bed. “you’re warm. stay.”

mark’s eyes widen when you turn to hug him around the waist.

fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK. this was… THIS IS…. UTREJKLSGIURKEJU?????YGSAELRIAY

mark brain malfunctions for a good minute before he remembers how to think. first, he thinks he has to leave or you’ll hate him forever. but when he tries to budge, you groan an annoyed groan making him scared to leave..

??? what is one supposed to do in these circumstances?

he stills, deciding it was better if he let you doze off comfortably. he slowly places an arm around your shoulder, patting a reassuring back rub into your skin. you nuzzle closer into him, clueless of the way mark is short-circuiting.

before he knows it though, mark finds himself dozing off, chin pressed up against the bone of your shoulder. the sleep isn’t chaotic like his thoughts usually are, but it’s a peaceful sleep, the kind that you only get when you share a bed with someone.

—

ever since that eventful… nap, mark has found himself growing closer to you, in all senses of the phrase. you’d seemed to start trusting mark more, your bookstore evenings turning into whole days spent in each other’s company. sometimes you’d be at each other’s room, more often yours, but otherwise, you’d end up in some new corner of campus, giggling over half-completed essays and collectively complaining about econ.

you’d also grown closer… physically. something about spending a sick evening in someone’s arms, you’d like to say. whatever the reason was, one way or another, you’d find a way to be next to each other.

you’d made a habit of holding mark’s hand, especially on colder days when your fingers lost all feeling till you pressed them into the knuckles of mark’s warm ones. other times, mark’s hand would be on your shoulder or back, casually doodling into your skin, a lazy smile on his face while you dramatically narrate some event from your life.

mark could tell something was different, though he dared not investigate what it was, too afraid to mess up what he had right now.

but then, he does the stupid thing of asking you the question.

it’s on a late night hangout in your room when chaewon’s out for the weekend to visit home, and y’all are sprawled on your bed, exhausted from a movie marathon.

something about the dim lights and the way you lean against his shoulder, makes him speak. “do you like someone right now?”

for a good while, mark thinks he mustn’t have asked the question out loud because of how quiet you are. but then, “what about you?”

“not fair! i asked you first,” mark complains with a chuckle. you shrug, “not telling if you don’t.”

he rolls his eyes, “two can play this game, y’know. i’m not giving.”

“ugh, fine. i’ll tell you about my ex for now.”

mark’s ear perks up at the mention and he waits for you to continue.

“ah, this is so embarassing to talk about. but.. last semester i was with taeyong.”

“wait. lee taeyong?”

“mhm-hm. you know him? he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off. we broke up right before new year’s eve so that was fun.”

mark falls silent as he recalls everything he can about lee taeyong. so far he has: perfect face and killer charm. oh yeah, wasn’t he a student athlete?

“you dated an athelete?” mark can’t help but ask.

“see! i know you’d make fun,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“no- no, i’m not making fun. that’s insane. taeyong is, like, famous.”

you groan, “and you’re listing all the reasons i broke up with him.”

mark isn’t sure what he can do with this information so he releases a strained chuckle, suddenly ready to head back to his room. he can’t be too obvious though, so he waits a bit.

“what about you?” you ask him, poking his arm. “any embarassing boyfriends?”

mark laughs despite it all, “i wish. i was in a silly little relationship but it was so long ago that i hardly remember.” with that, he sits up, a little abruptly.

you frown as he clears his throat, “um, anyway, i should get back soon. i’ve got to sleep.”

“the fuck?” you question, “it’s like 11 pm?”

“well, yeah, i have an early morning tomorrow.”

“on a sunday?”

“yeah, uhm, i forgot to tell you about this new job i have. anyways, i should really sleep soon. i’ll see you later, yeah?”

and just like that, mark leaves your room, with you gaping at how fast he’d made his exit, not even bothering to make real excuses. new job? halfway through the semester? yeah, sure. you feel your mood dampening at mark’s sudden cold shoulder, wondering if you’d upset him. but no matter how many times you thought about it, you weren’t sure what had made him act like that.

mark, on the other hand, can’t get the conversation out of his head, even as he walks to the library at 8 am on a sunday, ready to finish all traces of homework in existence. it doesn’t matter though because sitting in the silence of the study room, his mind repeats your words.

he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off.

boy, did mark feel stupid as shit. for everything? for thinking you were into him. somewhere along the way, your hands on his had him confused. for a minute there, he had stopped thinking about how he was actually just some guy. some guy who you chose to hang out with now and then, some guy who was your friend. mark was nowhere close to being taeyong, and even taeyong didn’t cut it for you. really, though, he couldn’t blame you. you really did deserve the best anyone could imagine.

a text from you interrupts his self-loathing spiralling.

y/n: heyoo!! u alive?

y/n: u left kinda abruptly last night. is everything ok?

mark clenches his fist as if to obliterate the hopeful smile that threatens his face. he thinks of how he might respond: sorry cant talk i’ve to make sure i’m not in love with u before i see u again or maybe: sorry i’m just trying not to cry in broad daylight bc i love u too much hjbykyvkvyf

“fuck! sorry!” a voice pulls mark back from his head. he looks up to see who’s broken into his study room… only to see lee taeyong standing there in confusion. of course this happens to mark.

“uhh, can i help you?” mark barely controls the snap that tries to escape him at the sight of taeyong.

“um, sorry,” taeyong looks down at his phone then back at mark, “i could’ve sworn i booked this room for the next hour…”

mark frowns, certain he’d booked this room for the next two hours. usually, he would’ve just told taeyong he’s booked it wrong, but instead he just says, “oh? i guess you can take this room then. i’ll go somewhere else.”

mark starts packing up but the other boy protests quickly, “no, no! it’s okay. i- um, i’d feel bad if you did that. what if… what if we shared? it’ll be nice to have someone else in the room, no?” taeyong smiles brightly at mark and the latter wants his eyes to stop working already.

call it the law of inertia, but something in mark doesn’t let him just leave the room, almost intrigued by how this might turn out. “alright, then.”

taeyong, as much as mark hates to admit it, is really nice. he hadn’t ever heard anything to refute that, but sitting silently in a room with someone really tells you all you need to know about someone. either way, the study sessions somehow seems to provide mark some sense of peace.

or so he thinks.

what he doesn’t expect is that two hours later, as the two of them are packing up to empty the room for the next occupant, for the next occupant to be… you. yes, of course, that’s gonna happen in this story.

for a moment, mark doesn’t find it particularly shocking to see you but when he notices the stiff look you share with taeyong, he realizes what’s happening.

you’d just entered the room with a knock when you’d noticed who was inside. your eyes travel between mark and taeyong, your mind unable to make sense of this.

your first thought is… is this why mark was weird last night? because he was close to taeyong and got offended by your remarks?

that would be the easy alternate, wouldn’t it? but even you can tell there’s a dryness in the way mark looks at the two of you, a look that unsettles you. of course, the sight of taeyong also unsettles you.

he speaks up before you, “y/n?”

you awkwardly wave at the two of them, “hi mark. hey taeyong. didn’t expect to see the two of you together.”

you look at mark pointedly but he’s not giving you much to work with. he just laughs as taeyong rushes to explain, “ah, i made a mistake in booking this room at the same time as mark, and he was kind enough to let me stay.”

marks want to leave right now. because of the way taeyong’s eyes are sparkling at the sight of you, hands nervously fidgeting. but he decides against it, when he sees you uneasy you seem, tight grip around the strap of your tote bag.

“what are you doing here?” mark asks and a part of you is relieved that he’s talking to you.

“um, homework. i didn’t really know what else to do ever since my friend started ghosting me.”

mark flinches at your attack, but persists in looking as indifferent as he can. “sorry about that, i got caught up finishing this essay.”

taeyong awkwardly coughs, “um, i should probably leave now. i have practice to get to.”

mark is quick to follow after taeyong, scared to death of being alone in a room with you. he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. “uhh, yeah, i’ll leave you to do homework, then! see ya!”

and just like that, it’s a repeat of last night. mark’s back receding except this time you watch him wave at you with a half-hearted smile as he leaves. you barely manage to close the door behind you before you feel yourself tear up.

this is stupid, you realize through tears, to be crying over something like this. but something like this? it meant a lot to you. you sit where mark sat minutes ago, the same disappointment in your eyes and a similar weight in your heart.

mark is not having the time of his life either though, as he walks out the library with taeyong, who starts asking questions about you as soon as he can.

“so you’re friends with y/n?” mark simply nods at that, having seen this coming.

“that’s cool. she’s really cool, isn’t she?”

“yeah, i suppose. she’s fun.”

“how close are you to her?”

mark laughs dismissively, “haha, i feel like i’ve done something wrong. calm down, bro.”

taeyong flushes at that, rubbing his neck, “oh, sorry. i didn’t mean to interrogate you like that. it’s just… you probably know about us, right?”

that words leaves taeyong’s mouth and buries itself deep into mark’s heart. us.

taeyong continues, “it’s just that i really miss her, man. i don’t think i’ve had as much fun with anyone else since her. or maybe, it’s just because i’m always comparing everyone to her.”

mark really doesn’t know what to say, feeling himself stuck in a similar situation. “hmm, it’ll get better.”

“i hope you’re right,” taeyong says, cheerfully patting mark’s back, “well, i have to go that way. see you around, bro. take care of her.”

take care of her? marks smiles remorsefully as he watches taeyong leave. and he wonders what was going on in your mind when you broke up with someone that perfect? what went on in your head when you befriended mark, just some guy?

—

on saturday, it’s been a whole week since you’ve talked to mark. you’d actually stayed up all night yesterday hoping he’d have a change of heart on friday night, and he’d text you with a can we talk? or come knocking on your door with an apologetic smile with some silly excuse. and you would’ve accepted it all because you were not familar with a mark-less existence. the past week was.. not good for you.

but on saturday night, you decide it’s enough. or rather, chaewon decides it’s enough when she sees you ready to spend the night in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry but i can’t respect your stupid decisions anymore,” she bursts into the room with a concerned look.

you frown, “ouch? you just called me stupid.”

“because that’s what you’re being. i don’t care if you’re going through it, i’m not letting you woe over some guy on the weekend.”

you grimace at the phrase some guy, remembering your conversation with mark. “hey! i’m talking to you, miss,” chaewon’s hands pull off your bed. “let’s go out tonight. i don’t care.”

“chaewon…” you complain, voice low.

“y/n, my dear friend, stop giving up on life because mark lee is ghosting you. if i know anything about the two of you, y’all will be back to cuddling each other next week.”

you want to say you’re afraid that’s not gonna happen but chaewon is moving too fast for you. she throws a dress at you and then, a coat. “wear those and come to yunjin’s room. we’re pre-gaming.”

an hour later, you’re not feeling so bad after all. you’d forgotten how fun getting wasted really was. you giggle hopelessly when yunjin cracks another “slayyy~” at chaewon’s empty glass. as sakura pours her another shot, you nudge her with your own empty cup.

your roommate frowns a little, “you sure you’re not going too fast?”

you roll your eyes, “chaewon! you’re the one who wanted to slut me out tonight. how am i gonna do that sober?” that makes everyone double up in laughter and you down the vodka with a triumphant sigh.

another hour later, you’re really feeling yourself. the pre-game finally ended with all of you walking to the frat that was throwing tonight. the first step you take into the crowded room has you regretting your decision, but your worries go to waste once you’re hearing the music blast through your veins.

you stay within chaewon’s group for most of the night. the girls are fun, yunjin being one of the best people you’ve partied with. it’s halfway through a doja cat song when you feel your bladder getting full from all the beer. you groan at all the effort it’s gonna take to go upstairs to where the bathroom was, but you could use a break.

you quickly tell chaewon you’ll be back, pointing in the direction of the bathroom and reassure her you’re fine when she asks to come with. the world is definitely spinning as you go up the stairs but you do make it to the top without falling over.

but as soon as you reach for the door of the bathroom, you lose balance as the person inside emerges. “fuck,” you groan, falling over into the person ahead, “’m sorry,” you mumble, supporting yourself against the sink.

you’re ready to push whoever it is out of the bathroom when you heard a familar voice. “y/n?”

you look up and actually gasp when you see mark in front of you. “mark?!” you sound incredulous but honestly, you’re just ecstatic. “i miss you,” you say your thoughts shamelessly.

mark reddens or so your vision tells you. “y/n, are you drunk?”

you frown and shake your head, about to explain yourself when a loud voice outside tells you to hurry up with your business, the door still open. mark shouts a, “find somewhere else, buddy!” and shuts the door, locking it behind him.

your drunk brain isn’t doing well with the concept of you in a locked room with mark. “are you drunk, mark?”

mark laughs at your question, “a little, yeah.”

“okay, good, then can you just-” you lose your balance again and mark steadies you instantly, warm hand on your elbow. you lose your train of thoughts at the feel of him, looking into his eyes wordlessly.

you think you stay there for a minute like that, the two of you just catching up on all the looks you’ve missed out on in the last week.

“why are you mad at me?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for ages. wanting mark to understand how hurt you’ve been, you pull at the sleeve of shirt, “i’ve been so sad. why are you avoiding me?”

mark takes your hand in his, “no! it’s not like that. i’m… not mad at you.”

“really?” you question him through a pout, “really?”

he doesn’t know what to do when pinned with that gaze of yours in that moment. and then his eyes land up on your lips, your little pout.

he knew the alcohol was a bad idea because now he can’t think straight, knowing he has to explain everything to you or he might lose it all. but somehow, instead of words, he feels another ugre crawl up his skin.

just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel mark’s lips on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls away just as soon as he leaned in. he drops your hand, falling to his knees.

it takes you a moment to re-orient yourself after the taste of mark in your mouth, but you hear mark sniffle and instantly join him on the ground, hands on his face.

“are you crying?”

mark tries to stop himself but he can’t. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

“hey,” you find yourself sobering up. how could you not when mark lee is in front of you, tears staining his ever-smiling face? “hey, mark, look at me.” he wipes at his face shakily, looking up at you through a fresh flood of tears.

“i’m sorry,” his voice breaks, “i’ve been acting so selfish with you. i shouldn’t have avoided you. i shouldn’t have kissed you. i’m.. it’s all because…” he trails off conveniently at the part of his sentence you most need to hear.

your fingers trail down to his chin, bringing his face back up, “it’s all because of what, mark? talk to me, baby.”

something in mark uncoils when you coo at him lovingly like that, his name as breathy as the nickname you suddenly throw at him. his lip quivers but his words are clear as day, “fuck, i’m into you, y/n. i know i’m just some guy really but i think i like you. i- like romantically, i’m dying to be with you.” he sighs when you don’t say anything, stunned into silence.

your hand stays put on his face though which mark thinks of as a good sign. gingerly, he takes your hand, gaze pointed at your interlocked fingers. “i know it’s awkward because you’re not into me like that. it’s all good, i understand.”

“mark, you’re drunk,” you finally mumble out, hand twitching in disbelief. “you’re just saying things.”

mark stiffens, “w-what? no! i’m serious, y/n. i’m not even that drunk anymore. how could i be, when you’re right here?” but then, he stirs, hands leaving yours, “oh, but if you’d rather forget that this happened—”

it’s a replay of five minutes ago, except this time your lips come crashing into mark’s, with so much force that you topple him over. he takes you with him, hand finding purchase at your waist as he pulls you on top of him, his back hitting the door of the bathroom.

your kiss is fierce, almost angry because you did not deserve to be kept in the dark about mark’s feelings. you push closer to him, making him groan into your lips at the intensity. you pull away then, hand at mark’s chest, “i hate you for avoiding me like that, mark. i can’t believe you.”

mark tries to explain himself but you’re kissing him again, swallowing his words whole, unforgiving in the way your hands grip his arms. again, you pull away, “what did you think? that i’d stop talking to you because you like me? you’re so stupid sometimes, mark.”

“i don’t—”

“no, you don’t understand. do you see me right now?” mark nods, eyes trailing at your disheveled state. mark couldn’t forget this sight if he wanted to: your hair wet with sweat, panting in between mark’s legs, lips a breath away.

“do i look like i hate you?”

“i mean, you do look annoyed,” mark remarks and you slap his arm with a snarl.

“that’s because you’re being unfair. what about my feelings for you, huh?” you challenge with a glare. “what about how much i suffered just because you decided to not show up to the bookstore? all because you came to some stupid conclusion by yourself?”

“wait,” mark starts, but you’re not letting him talk.

“no, listen, if i could, i’d seriously slap you. because i’m that down bad for you, mark! i’ve been thinking about doing this with you ever since you fell asleep in my bed that day. so fuck you, for hurting me like that.”

you’re breathless, eyes still trained on mark with that look of betrayal mixed with desire. you can’t help yourself though, mark looks absolutely breath-taking in front of you, mouth ajar in shock, lips red from your relentless kisses.

mark takes too long to process your words just then, long enough that you’re coming down from your high, embarassment flooding your veins. you go cold, standing up with a grunt. “i’m just gonna go back,” you mutter in disappointment, leaving before you can see mark’s response.

he’s coming back to his senses now, realizing that maybe you were right about how stupid he’d been. “fuck,” he breathes out, regaining his footing as he chases after you.

this chase proves to be difficult, given that the party only seems to have gotten more crowded since mark left. he struggles through the throngs of people, shouldering through, when he spots a silhouette of you in his peripheral vision. you were outside, apparently talking to another taller figure.

mark follows your shadow to the door, quickly making his way out. his breath hitches when he finds taeyong next to you. his arm is around your shoulder and you’re speaking to him in a low voice.

“y/n,” mark calls out, not hesitating to break taeyong’s hold on you, replacing it with his own embrace. he pulls you close. your eyes are teary and you sniff when you see mark, “what-”

“i’m sorry, can we talk?” he mumbles into your side, still aware of taeyong’s presence.

“oh, hey, mark. i was just,” taeyong moves to stand in front of the two of you, “taking care of y/n. she looked sick.”

“i’m fine, taeyong,” you reassure him, pressing yourself into mark’s side. “i’ll let mark walk me home. good night.” mark is impressed at how easily you dismiss taeyong, pulling mark after you.

“what do you want?”

mark stops you from walking, pulling you into a hug instead. “you’re right, i’m really stupid. let me ask you this instead: would you let me be your boyfriend?”

you release a soft laugh against his neck at his question, arms still for a moment for dramatic effect. then, you wrap yourself around him, kissing your answer into his ear, “of course, you idiot.”

—

[injunism]

❝ only us ❞, n.jm

summary → it was obvious to anyone that you guys had practiced this various times. or maybe it was just natural chemistry? jaemin isn’t sure what’s worse.

request → “could you write about bestfriend jaemin getting jealous when he sees you kiss jeno for a play at school that you’re in” (anon)

word count → 3k

a/n → this request made me so incredibly happy because all the knowledge i acquired my musical phase finally came in handy!! also i haven’t listened to dear evan hansen since i downloaded the illegal bootleg on my laptop like last year so i don’t remember much abt it :( i just kind of described it really vaguely lol anyway hope u enjoy ;)

jaemin dropped his backpack carelessly onto the floor of the crowded cafeteria. he set his plate down on the lunch table, not even glancing at you as he eagerly dug into his food.

“sorry i’m late,” he says to you, eyes concentrated on the orange citrus in his hand. his fingers skillfully begin peeling off the skin. “i had to stay a couple minutes after history class as punishment for eating during the lesson.”

you roll your eyes, an amused smile on your face. “disappointed but not surprised.”

Keep reading

[injunism]

hola <3. can i request idolbf!haech feeling insecure, jealous and getting sulky bc he thinks, gn!reader is spending too much time w their male friend? and gn!reader makes it up to him w cuddles and assures him that he's the only one. love ur work <3

Hi lovely thank you for your request❤️ i hope you enjoye and thank YOU for loving my work ILY!!

idol!haechan x gn!reader

genre fluff

warnings haechan is a jealous boy </33

you were incredibly proud to say that lee donghyuck is the love of your life, although your relationship wasn’t perfect just like every other relationship in the world, the two of you hardly got into serious arguments and always found ways to talk clearly about your feelings.

haechan warned you that when you started dating, there was going to be times he was much too busy to spend time with you, and you understood that. you were fully aware that he’s an idol and is going to be busier than you liked, but you loved him enough to push through it and cheer him on.

it had started up again, nct 127 was preparing for a tour and your already very hard working boyfriend was pushing himself to his limit. you were worried, of course, but he insisted that he was strong enough and there was nothing to be concerned about.

“do you have plans tomorrow?” he asked, turning away from his gaming setup to plop next to you onto his bed. you instantly dropped your phone next to you to give him your full, undivided attention.

the bed dipped a bit when he got comfortable next to you, and you felt all of your stress and worries disappear with him being next to you and pulling you into him. “um, i think somin and myungsoo wanted to get lunch?”

his head perks up a bit, “myungsoo?”

“yeah, you met him, remember? at my birthday party a couple months ago?”

the boy thinks for a bit and then hums. “right, yeah, i remember.”

“we haven’t seen each other since the party, so it’ll be nice to catch up!” you continue, not thinking a single thing of it.

you hadn’t thought anything of it because the entirety you’ve been dating haechan, he had you believing he was not the jealous type, which was a big fat lie. of course you never really did much to make him jealous, not because you felt like you couldn’t have guy friends, you just didn’t have many friends in general. haechan tries to swallow the jealousy bubbling inside him because he didn’t want to seem like a crazy, overprotective boyfriend.

to his own surprise, he doesn’t think much of it the next day, he found himself getting over it over-night because at the end of the day, you chose him, and he chose you. he had no reason to be jealous.

“who’s this on y/n’s story?” mark asks him, pointing his phone in his groupmates direction to reveal a picture of the two friends and your lunch posted on your instagram story.

haechan sighs and grabs a towel to wipe the sweat dripping down his forehead, leaning in to get a good look at what mark was showing him.

fuck, he thinks, he’s attractive. why does mark know me so well? or… he thinks he does. i am NOT jealous. i’m their boyfriend. not him.

“what do you mean? that’s their friends, duh,” he says in a tone that made it seem like it was obvious, and it was. mark was just very used to seeing his best friend get jealous even over him having other friends. although it was secretly adorable, it was unlike him.

“right…” the older sings, not saying another word as the two of them got up to finish practice.

haechan calls you that night and even though it was quite late and you both were exhausted, you never went a day without talking on the phone. “hi, baby.” he greets, and your heart skips a beat at the pet name.

“hi,” you grin, “how was your day?”

“tiring,” he groans without hesitation, “taeyong hyung was being a little bitch—sorry, he’s a great leader but i absolutely hate when he puts on the strict leader act. it drives me crazy.”

you laugh at your boyfriends rants. “poor baby.”

“yes, feel bad for me. i have it so hard,” he sarcastically pours and you glare at him, making him raise his hands in defense. “sorryyyy. how was your day?”

“it was fine, i had fun with somin and myungsoo, and i had yummy food, but… i was thinking about you all day.”

haechan gasps and puts his hand to his heart, squeezing his eyes shut playfully. “y/n… cuteness overload. don’t do this to me.” he was so cheesy but it was so cute that you couldn’t help but laugh every single time.

the conversation goes on and he’s relieved that the day is over, because that means you’d never hang out with myungsoo ever again. or he was just telling himself that to feel better, because he would never ask you to stop hanging out with your friend when you didn’t even do anything wrong.

but then you do hang out with myungsoo… again. and again.

haechans becoming busier by the day and you miss him like crazy, you felt alone and isolated and so you try to out get of the house more to make yourself feel better, and convince yourself that you don’t have to depend on your boyfriend to have fun but it was just too damn hard. however, it doesn’t even cross his mind that you wanted to distract yourself from how much you miss him. he can’t stop thinking about how much time you’re spending with myungsoo.

his main concern was that you would tell him when you were hanging out with myungsoo, just not what you were doing together. he couldn’t help his clouded thoughts and started to get insecure over you and your attractive friend becoming closer. he wouldn’t have known that you never hung out with other guys alone unless it was in public, because he never bothered to ask.

“hiii,” you sing, “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too,” he deadpans from the other side of the phone, and you feel your face drop.

“you okay?” you knew he wasn’t, you knew you had every right to be worried for his well-being, he should’ve listened to you when you told him to take care of his health first, you thought.

“i’m alright, just tired,” he says.

you nod to yourself, feeling bad that you can’t help him, but more feeling guilty for being upset that he wants to sleep more than he wants to talk to you. “oh, okay. go to sleep, babe. we’ll talk tomorrow.”

you wait for him to sleepily insist that he’s perfectly fine and he’d rather stay up all night talking to you, but he doesn’t this time. “okay, i love you. i’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

you stay silent for a second but respond. “goodnight.”

the phone hangs up and you immediately regret not telling him you love him back, you don’t even why you wouldn’t say it back, and now he’s going to sleep thinking you don’t love him. you panicked and couldn’t help but feel like it was something more than him being tired, but you couldn’t push or force it out of him.

the thought keeps you up at night and so the morning after, you text haechan good morning and tell him you were sorry for not saying i love you. you thought he probably hadn’t thought much of it and you were being dramatic, but he tells you it’s okay and that he understands if you were upset.

that’s when you take matters into your own hands and message one of the members.

you: mark

is haechan okay

mark: he seems fine to me

why?

you: hes been kind of distant lately

and not in the way that he’s busy with schedules and things like that, but it feels like there’s something he’s not telling me

i’m sorry i dont want to be that type of partner but im seriously worried for him

mark: oh y/n :( he hasnt said anything to me im really sorry

he hasnt even seemed off to me at all, like hes pretty normal at practice and rehearsal

well as normal as haechan gets

and don’t apologize thats really sweet of you hes lucky to have you seriously

you: oh okay

why is he distant to meeee im sad

but thank you anyways

mark: ofc!

you realize quickly after that you probably shouldn’t have done that, because mark telling you that he seemed completely normal in his presence made you feel even worse.

you hadn’t seen each other in a little over two weeks and you figured it may have just been getting really hard on him not seeing you, the same as it was for you not seeing him. you didn’t want to assume anything but you also didn’t want to believe that he could’ve been mad at you for something.

for the first time in a good week, you cancel your plans with myungsoo and take the day to prepare to surprise your boyfriend.

you didn’t tell him that you’d be at the dorms when he got home that night, and so you picked up a few of his favorite snacks and drinks and made yourself comfortable in his bed while you waited for his arrival. after about an hour of being alone in the dorm, you hear the front door open and your heart starts pounding.

you had no idea why you were nervous to see yor boyfriend at all, maybe because you were worried he really was mad at you and the plan would backfire.

still, you pretend to not be phased and look relaxed as his footsteps get closer, and soon enough his door swung open and there he stood. his eyes immediately lock with yours and you watch his blank expression change to surprise. every single negative thought leaves his mind at the sight of you, and you can visibly see the tension leave body as his shoulders drop in relief.

“hi,” you greet sweetly, standing from his bed and be drops his bag without a word and walks over to you.

haechan still says nothing when he wraps his arms around you, damp with sweat but you honestly couldn’t care less. you return the gesture and you comfortably hold each other in silence for a little while.

“i know it’s late, i’m sorry,” you apologize once you pulled away.

“what’re you doing here?” he asks, disregarding your statement. not that he wasn’t happy to see you, just wasn’t prepared to face you after getting in his head about you and your hot friend.

“i was worried about you, and i miss you.”

his eyes become even softer, suddenly feel guilty and he drops his head. “i’m sorry.”

your furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “what for?”

“preparing for tour has been more difficult than i thought, and i’m exhausted, and you’re the only person who makes me feel sane and it’s so fucking hard when i can’t see you. i just miss you and… and, i don’t know. you have a really hot friend and it makes me sad because he’s hot. i wish he was ugly.” he rants.

you listen to him in full understanding at all his words, until he got to the last statement. “i get you, and i miss you too… but, are you—are you talking about myungsoo?”

“i know it’s stupid and trust me, i feel stupid but i don’t know…” he pouts, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with him…”

you know the situation was a very un-laughable situation, but you truly can’t help but chuckle at his mumbled words when talking about myungsoo. “haechan… myungsoo and i are just friends, i promise. i’ll stop hanging out with him if you want—“

“no, i know you’re just friends and i am not accusing you of anything,” he replies quickly, “i don’t want you to stop hanging out with him because of me. i just hate how attractive he is. i’m sorry. it’s stupid but i feel insecure for some reason.”

you nod, “i hear you, and it’s not stupid. i could’ve been better at reassuring you, but you’re my boyfriend… not him. i love you, not him. i don’t think i need to tell you that you’re hotter than him, your head is big enough.”

you smile when you manage to break a laugh out of him. “no, actually, it’s not. i need you to tell me how hot and sexy and awesome i am or i’ll cry.”

you playfully sigh and after he sits down on his bed, you crawl into his lap with your legs hanging over his and your arms wrapped around his neck. “lee haechan, you are the most attractive person i have and will ever lay my eyes on. you are so perfect inside and out, and i love you.”

he didn’t expect you to take it seriously as the two of you joked around way too much but he was pleasantly surprised with your response. he gives you a cocky smirk, but you can tell his heart was beating fast in his chest and his stomach was exploding in butterflies. “you promise?”

you nod as he hugs your waist tighter, “i promise.”

then he sighs loudly and falls back into his bed, taking you with him. “i’m so in love with you, it’s sick.”

“don’t ever get jealous again, i’m yours, and you’re mine,” you say, “and it’s only and always you—”

“y/n, please,” your boyfriend stops you, “my heart can’t take this.”

“and, there will never be a reason for you to be jealous or insecure.” you fight a laugh, watching him bury his face into your neck shyly. he wasn’t shy whatsoever, you just managed to make him flustered. it was basically a super power.

“now that i know this is what it takes to get you to compliment me, i’m gonna get jealous much more often,” he nods.

you gasp, slapping a hand on his chest which only earns you a laugh from him. “shut up! i compliment you all the time! don’t like you don’t watch your own fancams, either.”

“i knowwww, i’m kidding, i love you. thank you for giving me all the compliments in the world.”

you hum in satisfaction, “yes, of course. i love you so much.”

the boy leans over and equips you with a very sloppy kiss right on your cheek, to which you groan in disgust at the feeling of his saliva but smile lovingly. “i love you more.”

[injunism]

behind closed doors

pairing ↠ haechan x you x jeno

genre ↠ smut, stepcest, slight noncon, (uncreative) degradation, unprotected sex (i literally forgot about the existence of condoms, oopsies), brief choking, slapping, posessive!jeno

summary ↠ to the world, you’re an amazing daughter and sister who’s surely only awaited upon by heaven. to your stepbrothers, you’re nothing more than an actress and a whore with a secret to keep.

wc ↠ 4.5k

don’t like it, don’t read.

the rules set in stone for you - all three of you - were unspoken, though clear. the line was drawn and you were expected to adhere to it. 

to say you tried would be debatable. you were not as naive and oblivious as you seemed, that much was apparent to your step-brothers. you played the role well; the docile, loving sister and daughter, that followed the line drawn before her with straight steps. never gave your parents any problems, and if anything, your devotion to your academics and lack of evident rebellious nature was the sheer opposite of that. they would give you that much. but they knew all too well that behind an attentively-crafted character, a façade if not anything else, you were merely a renegade of convention.

as were they.

that was how it all began - with your façade being beaten to the ground until only your true self stood. haechan was the first to catch on. for a moment, you managed to have even him fooled by your acts of naivety. you never seemed to notice how lewd your actions appeared in the leering eyes of a man, even a man that was, by law, your brother.

haechan could name every last thing that drove him crazy. when you wore shirts around the house you sometimes tended to be braless, and your nipples would press through the fabric for a couple of reasons. other times, your tits would simply bounce if you moved around too much. how some of your underwear was always left on top of your laundry basket when it was his week to do the laundry. your innocent actions that he couldn’t help but perceive as dirty, or the skimpy clothes that left little to imagination. haechan was certain he saw your cleavage more often than he saw his parents. and you all lived in the same house. 

and that was to be brief. either you were really, truly oblivious, or you were doing this on purpose.

obviously, it was the latter.

it didn’t take haechan long to figure out. honestly, he tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but there was a creeping suspicion in his chest that kept him on his toes. and he was certain of your motive one day. 

that night, you asked him if he wanted to watch some movies with you. that in itself wasn’t suspicious - you loved your family bonding time - and haechan didn’t turn the offer down. but you were again braless in one of his t-shirts that you had borrowed a while back and had yet to return. which was fine by him; he liked seeing you in his clothes, not unbeknownst to you. you snuggled close to him, seemingly innocently, but he saw the poor attempt of hiding your grin when you noticed him shift.

and then a couple movies later, you fell asleep, your head falling against him. he took advantage of the opportunity, letting you slip entirely into slumber before gently lying you against the sofa. slowly but surely, he slipped your underwear down to your ankles, looking attentively at your face as he pushed your thighs apart just enough to move between. it didn’t surprise him in the slightest to find that you had already soaked through your panties. you seemed distracted throughout the movie, and by now it was very obvious what was plaguing your mind.

haechan tugged at his own clothes and eventually slid into you. he tried to be slow, to draw it out, and at first he did. he held his breath during the first couple of thrusts, but ultimately couldn’t help but let out a sound or three. that was what roused you. you blinked, not entirely comprehending what was happening until your eyes focused on the moving figure between you.

“hyuck, wha… stop it-“ 

haechan didn’t hesitate to cut you off, placing one of his palms squarely over your mouth. “shut up,” he said underneath his breath, watching you weakly squirm. “don’t act like you weren’t begging for this.”

you gulped, chest heaving. honestly, he had to commend you. if he hadn’t known that you were bullshiting him right now, he would have sincerely believed that your round eyes gleamed of genuine innocence and surprise. but you were nothing if not a performer.

haechan’s hand moved from your mouth to under your - his - shirt, that had already ridden up your stomach. your lower half was completely exposed to the air, and he went up to fondle with your breasts, moving at the impact of his every thrust. you stifled your sounds, not yet wanting to give him that pleasure. you could tell he already had you figured out, though, if his words were any indication.

“jeno’s down the hall,” you whispered, biting at the fear you pretended was installed within you. if anything, you would have liked it if he caught you - if he joined you. but that was a different, later chapter of the story.

haechan didn’t buy it, obviously enough, although he replied, “then, you better be real quiet for me, got it?”

you nodded in response. the most amusing part, to haechan, was that you hadn’t even attempted to fight him away. you didn’t even try to deny wanting this all along. he assumed that you would have likely put some effort into pretending as if this wasn’t what you were subtly working your way towards, but you didn’t.

save for your fake surprise. of course, you weren’t shocked to find him buried between your legs. you knew what you were doing; you had been trying to lure him there this whole time. his hungry eyes and evident arousal never went unnoticed by you. he tried to hold back, maybe because he wasn’t always sure, but he was no better than you. you knew men, and before anything else, haechan was simply that. a man could never resist his temptations.

“wore this to fuck with me, didn’t you?” he asked, voice low, though he already knew the answer. you resisted a grin; of course you did. haechan wasn’t subtle; not that he intended to be. “would do anything to get a dick in you.”

you shook your head in denial, tears emerging in your eyes. not out of pain or discomfort - as the slight addition of that was your pleasure - but out of relief. you were so relieved that the wait was over, and god, was it worth it.

haechan ran a hand through his hair and chuckled quietly. “no? so you didn’t wear my shirt on purpose? didn’t do it to make this easier for me? you don’t make sure i can see your tits every goddamn day like some kinda whore? yeah right, you fucking slut.”

you couldn’t battle the moan, clenching around him tightly. it was your dream to have him talk to you like that. 

“there you go,” he said, amused by your failure to conceal your pleasure. “you were laying all up on me, making sure i could feel you. you aren’t fucking slick.”

you whimpered, “i‘m close, hyuck,” his words very evidently getting to you. his efforts to wear at your cracking façade finally rewarded him with the treasure lying beneath the surface.

“yeah, is that what you want? you want me to make you cum?” haechan teased, watching the way you bobbed your head needily in response. 

he tried to conceal his laughter, given jeno was only just down the hall, probably fast asleep. in spite of the fact that it was late, it was a weekday. miraculously, neither of your parents were home, and if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to keep this a secret from his brother he would have gone stupid with you. it wasn’t that haechan was startled or even intimidated by the thought of jeno discovering what was happening right under his nose - he knew his brother well, details that even you couldn’t imagine - or even acting out of selfishness. even if not right away, he knew jeno would eventually catch on. he was always good at sniffing out lies and deception. but haechan simply wanted him to learn for himself, feasting on his brother’s inevitable reactions.

“cum,” haechan commanded, his voice hardly above a whisper. “before i don’t let you.”

you ultimately did reach your climax, convulsing underneath his body. you bit your lip, and too back a cry of your step-brother’s name. it was straight out of a dream, more specifically an erotic one, and you were convinced that you were dreaming as you lay there weakly, watching haechan continue to use your body.

haechan came subsequently, although not by much. in favor of not ruining the couch and leaving a trail, he pulled out, resorting to finishing himself with his fist and shooting spurts of cum on your face.

he didn’t hesitate to whip out his phone, not even bothering to ask permission to photograph you and your only warning was a “say cheese” before he was snapping photos of you. you glanced at him, almost panicked, and though he couldn’t tell if it was out of genuine concern, he assured, “don’t worry, baby. no one will see how much of a whore you are except me - for now.”

for now.

haechan was kind enough to help you clean yourself up before he left, but he didn’t leave without firmly mentioning, “this won’t be the last time.”

bearing that knowledge in mind, it was difficult to fall back asleep that night.

true to his word, that night wasn’t the last time, but the beginning of your sexcapades. it wasn’t a one-time or two-time thing; it was happening more frequently than you could count with your fingers and toes combined. haechan became accustomed swiftly, never missing his chance to drag you away for a fucking whenever you could get away with it. if it was only the two of you in the house, rest assured you would be fucking like hounds. sometimes he’d slip into your room in the middle of the night, not always while you were awake. whenever he could get his hands on you, he would.

haechan wasn’t the only needy one, though. of course not; that had already been established. more often than not, you found yourself wet and begging for his touch. your acts of seduction didn’t end there and you’d take it up a notch, sometimes walking into his room in merely a towel after a shower and asking if you could borrow one of his shirts (nevermind the fact that you were gradually developing a collection of his shirts and hoodies that you had no intention of returning). if the water glistening on your skin wasn’t enough, maybe once or twice you had dropped the towel, innocently insisting that it wouldn’t be a problem because he had already seen everything, right?

needless to say, it would end with you on his bed.

all of the sneaking around would have gone on for weeks by now. no one had caught on - that, you were almost certain. you had been doing so well, learning how to keep quiet in spite of how difficult it was. your image was still steady.

it was late when you stepped into the kitchen. yet again, your parents were out on business, and it was solely you and your step-brothers, who they expected to take care of you. nonetheless, you were confident that they were asleep, given the hour.

but when you felt someone wrap their arms around you from behind, hands steadily falling to knead your ass, you realized you were wrong. guess haechan’s not sleep, you thought. probably been up playing video games. all without sparing him a glance, you very lightheartedly told him, “haechan, stop.”

“haechan, hm?”

on a dime, you whirled around and froze. you knew your brothers’ voices’ very well, and that was certainly not haechan’s.

it was jeno that you were faced with when you turned around, who had his hands in his pockets now. he tilted his head. “you let haechan touch you like that?”

“no—”

whatever semblance of calm jeno held dissipated on a dime; he shut the refrigerator and roughly pressed you into the surface, his breath heavy on your neck as he whispered, “i don’t like being lied to - you know that.”

you had no response to offer him. jeno had genuinely caught you off-guard, and though you expected some type of confrontation eventually, not now, not like this. instead, you swallowed hard, half-feigning the fear in your eyes as you struggled to hold eye contact with him.

jeno basked in the way your body trembled, unhurriedly trailing his eyes and fingers down your figure. somehow you simultaneously amused and angered him. part of him was entertained to see your body react with something like terror, but the other was busting at the seams with ire as he noticed you were wearing his brother’s hoodie. it always pissed him off to see you in haechan’s clothes.

as cliché as it sounded, you felt like prey at the mercy of a predator, waiting for him to make his move while being painfully aware of the fact that you could never counter it even if you wanted to. he began to steadily roll up the hoodie with a single finger, and though you attempted to swat his hand away, he yanked your weak hands away with ease, pinning them above your head. it was so pathetically futile that it had to be deliberate. “at least try to be convincing,” jeno teased, using his other hand to continue his movements.

the pace was tormenting; he took his sweet, precious time to roll up your - haechan’s - hoodie, more and more of your flesh being exposed to the cool air piece by piece until your bare chest was left wide open. “nothing underneath?” jeno mimicked a gasp of mock surprise, groping your breast in his palm. “you wore this for haechan, too, huh?”

the thought of what would happen if you continuously lied to his face piqued your curiosity, however you weren’t sure if you wanted to test your luck yet. instead, you bobbed your head, whimpering at the feeling of his hands.

“thought you were a good girl,” jeno sighed. if it wasn’t for the fact that he had been onto you for a while now, all of this would have been shocking. you maintained such a clean image that no one would have suspected a girl like you had such a filthy secret. except for jeno; he found you as obvious as could be.

“i am,” you insisted, but you knew in your heart it wasn’t all that true.

“liar,” he hissed, shoving his hand down your shorts. you bit your lip when he cupped you through your underwear, trying your best to suppress a noise. “if you were good, you wouldn’t be wet for me.”

that alone should have been humiliating, and it was, but it being your stepbrother who had you aroused didn’t exactly stop either of you. any of you. you tried to combat a moan when you felt his fingers pressing against you, but you couldn’t resist.

which broke the last of jeno’s resolve. he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you upstairs, ignoring you telling him to “slow down,” or that he was holding you “too tight,” or that “it hurts.” you knew no pain. it hurt knowing that haechan had gotten to you before he even got the chance. and tonight, he had something to prove.

jeno wasn’t very gentle with you from that point forward. he forced you against the wall - specifically the one adjacent to haechan’s bedroom wall. he was going to use your body to make a statement, and a very loud one at that. you squirmed in his hold, but you were helpless; years of physical activity paid off on his end and your attempts to fight him off - whether you were genuinely using all of your strength or not - were effortlessly overpowered. god, was that arousing. jeno gripped you by the neck and threatened, “behave, or i’ll hurt you more than i have to.”

that made you instantly still and jeno continued to pry at your clothes until he was satisfied. you didn’t wear anything much, merely the hoodie, the least lengthiest of shorts, and a pair of panties. he didn’t hesitate to free himself from his sweats, stroking himself fully hard in his fist. you could only eye him with so much pent-up desire, begging him to end the wait.

jeno had also been a subject of your depraved fantasies, although you thought that he would have been significantly harder to crack. which was why you very strategically went for haechan first. jeno had a jealousy issue that he masked as playing the role of the protective, older brother. in that sense, he was not all too different from you. but you were aware that he despised seeing his little stepsister with other men and haechan was no exception to that. your plan was soiled - you intended to make him jealous by going out with one of his friends - but you weren’t necessarily complaining. the sooner you could get his dick in you, the better.

jeno lifted you against the wall and when you felt his dick brushing against your folds, you held on to your breath for dear life. “prove to me that you’re a good girl by taking it,” he told you, forcing himself into you with one sharp thrust.

and jeno fucked you right against that wall, doing everything in his power to make everything you were doing at the moment painfully obvious and loud; ensuring your body was thrashing against the wall, slapping you anywhere to make you squeal, or thrusting harshly into you to earn a cry from between your lips. haechan had to be awake, and you could only pray your neighbors weren’t. as gratifying as this was to jeno, he was again met with ire upon the realization that you given this experience away. not only was being inside you a pleasure, feeling the way you squeezed around him like your life depended on it, but outwardly, it was something else. he adored the way you were so pathetically helpless against him, incapable of saving yourself from being used. most especially by someone who was expected to look after you. 

in a way, he was. but it wasn’t very conventional. he wanted you, and he wanted to be the only one who dare got to have you.

there was a bit of tension amongst the three of you that following morning. neither were surprised to see you ignore it or continuing to be innocent. you sprung into the living room with a spring in your step - obviously cheerful about something -  and greeted them joyously, kissing their cheeks as usual. if you caught the mood in the room you had suddenly intruded, you didn’t show any sign, but there was really no way you hadn’t. the look on their faces was unignorable.

haechan pulled you down onto his lap, ignoring your tiny noise of surprise and attaching his lips to your neck. “mornin, princess,” he whispered.

your gaze met the sinister, exasperated one of jeno’s, eyes boring holes through the flesh of you and haechan. it was paralyzing; you could only sit there and swallow hard, shifting your eyes anywhere else.

“i see you two had fun last night without me,” haechan remarked, biting back a snicker. he could tell without sparing a glance that his brother was not pleased.

“we did,” jeno replied curtly. “did you expect an invitation?”

“would’ve been nice,” chirped haechan. “it’s all good, though. we have a lot of fun on our own, too. isn’t that right, princess?” he grinned, his eyes on you the whole time. meanwhile, he was rubbing your bare thigh - courtesy of your less than lengthy shirts - and you had to bite your lip, begging yourself not to make a sound. jeno was already on the brink of breaking something.

instead, you very reluctantly bobbed your head, not daring to glance at jeno although you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him looking at you.

haechan crooned, “use your words.”

you gulped before doing so, wetting your throat that had so suddenly gone dry during the past couple of minutes. “yeah. yeah, we do,” you stammered, doing everything in your power to avoid looking at your other stepbrother.

jeno couldn’t bear it any longer and stormed off, and you knew that you were in for it tonight.

everything continued this way - haechan would be indifferent towards your affairs concerning jeno, but he’d deliberately make his brother jealous for the sake of it. in response, jeno’s temper would manifest in the rough manners he used you, fucking every hole of your body with no remorse. it was your very definition of heaven. going back and forth between your brothers was, at one point in time, merely a dream to you.

ultimately, however, jeno’s sudden discovery didn’t deter you from your original plans. you had no clue how he maintained his composure before then - because obviously he had been aware for a while - but you were tempted to poke the dragon. and you did.

“and where the fuck are you going?” jeno asked when you strutted into the living room, checking your makeup for the fiftieth time in your pocket mirror. you were dolled up, wearing the skimpiest dress with every level of you styled. which, paired with the frequency of which you were re-checking your appearance, could have meant only one thing at this hour.

your mom pointed at him from the island and yelled, “language, jeno!”

haechan snickered and you stifled a laugh of your own, but not for that reason; because you knew he wasn’t pleased with you. “what’s it look like? i’m going on a date, dummy,” you replied, sticking out your tongue. 

“don’t talk to your brother like that, y/n,” chided your mom, hands on her hips. she had always pushed the family agenda, though neither of you were technically related, save for you and your mother and them and their father.

“sorry, mom,” you apologized, forcing your most genuine tone. normally you would have been on your best behavior, but you were very intent on provoking jeno. and though he did well at concealing it - courtesy of your mother’s presence for once - you saw right through him and knew he was seething at the core.

haechan seemingly was intent on joining your little scheme, and pressed with a stupid smile on his face, “a date with who?”

“you guys know mark,” you replied to haechan, but you were looking straight at jeno, looking for a crack in his calm demeanor. bearing in mind the potential of his anger, memories flashing in your head, it was almost scary how collected he was; or seemed. “he should be here in a couple of minutes.”

mark was a mutual friend of theirs. you were almost surprised he hadn’t mentioned to either of your stepbrothers that he was taking you out on a date, but it worked perfectly. you got to capture jeno’s reaction in real-time.

“lee scored you?” haechan, incredulous, laughed, like it was the most bizarre thing he had ever heard. jeno laughed too, but not out of amusement. it was anger. “man, good luck. you’re gonna need it.”

you giggled. for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t mark he was implying you would need luck with. “please. i’ll be fine.”

the doorbell rang merely moments later, and while haechan told you to have fun and your mother told you not to stay out too late, jeno was deadly silent. part of you was scared when you got into that car with mark, but the other was thrilled.

when you got back home, all of the lights were out and your parents' cars were yet again gone. after kissing mark goodnight, you turned your key into the lock, and it wasn’t until he had pulled off that you felt arms wrap around you. you shrieked, and their hand went over your mouth. “quiet,” jeno growled in your ear.

you complied. with jeno’s palm over your mouth, it would have been useless not to, anyways. “walk,” he ordered, and you did as told, letting him lead you upstairs. you winded up in his bedroom and only then did he release you, but there haechan was waiting, tossing a baseball into the air impatiently. that honestly took you by surprise.

“you sure took your sweet time,” haechan spoke directly to you, finally sitting the ball down. you assumed he had been waiting for a while now. “thought your mom told you not to stay out too late. or did you do that on purpose?”

from the mischievous smile on his face, you had a feeling he was trying to get you into more trouble. you didn’t answer, knowing you were in enough already. but that was the fun part. 

jeno pushed you onto the bed, resulting in another surprised noise from you. “jeno-”

“i don’t want to hear it,” jeno interjected, lunging forward to unzip your dress. the moment you tried to stop him, haechan reached for your arms and held you down. now you saw what this was; they were teaming up against you. “i was being lenient about you and haechan, you know - let you two fuck like rabbits all around this place and didn’t say a word - but now you’ve really tested my kindness. you talk slick to me, go on a date with one of my friends dressed like a whore, and then come back late. did all that to piss me off, didn’t you?”

“no, i-“

jeno slapped your cheek. “lie again.”

by now, there were tears brimming your eyes. you could only look to haechan for mercy, as if he was any better, but being of the same blood, he and jeno were as similar as they were different. what he lacked in possessiveness he compensated with his potential to be just as cruel whenever he wanted to be. maybe indirectly, he was being cruel this whole time. surely there was no way he wasn’t aware of how jeno reacted every time he noticed the two of you fucking around.

jeno seemed to notice this and laughed dead in your face. “haechan’s not gonna save you, babe. you think he’s any better than me? he wouldn’t be here right now if we weren’t the same.”

that you knew. it didn’t take a genius to tell that haechan and jeno were essentially cut from the same cloth. the main difference that you could pin was that haechan had a more verbal violence, while jeno leaned towards physical. though that didn’t mean they didn’t teeter across those borders.

“he’s right, ya’know,” haechan snickered. “this is what little sluts like you get.”

jeno took advantage of haechan holding you down, moving to remove your panties. and for someone who was squirming so much as if you didn’t want any of this, they were drenched. jeno could only chuckle at that. 

“no, no - ‘m sorry,” you balked, but jeno ignored you and haechan shook his head. 

“you’re not sorry yet,” haechan told you, ominous as ever. “but you’re gonna be.”

you were counting on it.