#i havent listening to top in so long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ncteez · 2 years

Text

Third Wheel: Part Two

Mark isn’t sure what’s worse, the thirteen hour drive to the beach where he watched you get railed by his best friend in the backseat, or the five days he’s gonna be spending there knowing he is expected to watch—or join, whichever.

– read part one here!

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave me some feedback, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.

WORDCOUNT―13.7k

PAIRING― haechan x afab reader x mark

CONTENT― vacation setting, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, jealousy (both haechan & mark), implications of a budding poly relationship, there’s a lot of dialogue to depict character development regarding the whole inviting mark thing.

WARNINGS― haechan is a little touchy with mark, if you don’t like it, sounds like a you problem.

NOTE― i reached 3k followers so here is ur present. the present was proofread by @domjaehyun, we love her for putting up with my shit :D. this is not a stand alone fic, please read the first part if you havent!

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― borderline infidelity (haechan is into but doesn’t wanna admit it), finger fucking, neglected cock syndrome, hair pulling, haechan teaches mark how to fuck his girl, haechan basically moves mark like a puppet, cum stuffing, humiliation/degradation, double vaginal penetration

What Mark feels for the remainder of that drive was unexplainable. Looking at you through the mirror, Haechan next to you, it felt for lack of a better word, different. Sure, he’s walked in on the two of you before, and watched for a little too long too but, this was different. He personally saw Haechan stuff you full and not only that but he saw your face as it happened. You spoke for him, to him, and he didn’t even get his ass kicked by Haechan after the fact.

The feelings in his head swirl around like a forming tornado threatening to touch down and cause him to lose all sanity. Five days with you two locked in this beach house with nothing but freedom at your feet. Worse, even when the three of you go home, he’s just locked in a different space with the two of you until he gets back on his feet. Mark isn’t even sure if he wants to leave now. On one hand, he wants to start running just to get away from the overwhelming embarrassment, on the other, he thinks he might like it. He thinks the two of you might like him being around to see too.

“Is this going to be a normal thing?” Mark remembers asking Haechan inside of the bathroom at the gas station. What was Haechan’s response? “Maybe, if you keep wanting to catch us.”

What to do, what to do, with a lust so hungry Mark feels like it’s eating him from the inside out? Catch you on purpose? Stalk your private moments with his best friend just to get another taste of that bliss just out of reach? Not even a taste actually.

Haechan drags his feet as he carries your bags along with his. He’s acting normal despite his constant groaning about how his legs hurt after certain endeavors on top of the thirteen-hour car ride. You stay close to him, attempting to snatch a few bags so that he would at least stop crying about the very deed he wanted to do during the ride.

Mark stays behind, quietly carrying in his things and avoiding the cracks on the sidewalk so as to not scratch his new suitcase set. One headphone in, he barely hears the two of you as he opts to try and escape the madness outside of the audio in his ear. That is, until he gets inside the beach house.

“Okay so, hear me out–” Haechan smiles at Mark, stepping in front of him as he tries to pass. “Listen, Mark. Just,” Haechan puts his hands out in front of him, stepping both left and right to continuously block Mark’s path.

“There’s only one bedroom.” You announce, breaking Haechan’s plan of trying to convince Mark that it would be a sick idea for him to watch more.

Haechan did know. Of course, he fucking knew, he’s the one who booked the place. You didn’t know, but he knew you’d play along anyway. Given, Haechan hadn’t completely planned the whole car thing so it’s kind of awkward now. Despite always wanting to be caught, watched, and envied, Haechan really didn’t think past the idea of causing Mark inner turmoil with this rental.

“S’cool. I’ll take the couch.” Mark waves off, dropping his bags and looking around the space.

Your eyes drop before Haechan’s do.

“Wait, no,” Haechan groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, you can still sleep in there with us. There’s two beds.”

Two beds. So it was intentional to put Mark in a position he couldn’t resist, huh?

“Look, the idea was to invite you to watch. Surely you’ve caught on to everything by now, right?” Haechan looks at Mark with an apologetic stare. “It’s kind of awkward now inviting you, but I thought you’d be happy to take us up on the offer, especially after our little talk…”

Mark looks to the floor with tinted red flushing over his cheeks.

“You really couldn’t just wait to get here first before sitting him down and discussing?” You ask, scolding your boyfriend despite the fact that you played at least fifty percent into his on-the-fly plan on the ride over here.

“You looked hot and he was tired.” Haechan states the obvious.

Mark is just standing there trying his best not to let his mouth fall open. Haechan really wanted to propose that he should just watch? Nothing else? Just fucking watch? Ka-ching. It’s little to grasp at, but Mark’s gonna take it. After seeing everything and hearing you, why wouldn’t he? His best friend is practically giving him the ability to watch you be pleasured.

“Okay,” Mark stops both of you from bickering. “Let’s discuss it now then.” He adds, averting his eyes from both you and your boyfriend to avoid showing how much interest he actually has in this little vacation plan.

After a long and drawn out discussion, rules were set into place. Rule number one, Mark cannot touch you under any circumstance. You were quick to side eye your boyfriend’s best friend during that moment, noting the disappointed look that washed across his face. Rule number two, Mark can request things he wants to see, but if either you or Haechan are uncomfortable with it, the request can be ignored. Rule number three, you can talk to Mark while it happens and he can talk back, but Haechan will humiliate him the whole time if he feels like it.

Mark didn’t falter at any of the rules except for the first one, mostly because it’s going to be hard to not want to touch you. He assumes that’s part of the fun for Haechan though. He feels embarrassed accepting the terms, awkward as he places his bags in the shared room the three of you will be sleeping in, and restless at the way reality hits him. You, his best friend’s girlfriend, want him to see. You want him to get off to you.

He feels a bit shameful about it. After all, Haechan has been his best friend for fucking years at this point and he’s a little unnerved that none of this is making him feel as weird as it should be. Should Mark really be excited about watching his best friend fuck his girlfriend? Probably not, but he is, and he just assumes this is another ‘weird’ thing he likes to add to his list.

“Hey–” Haechan nods his head towards Mark as you walk out of the room for a shower. You did your best to clean up at the gas station too but, to be fair, the bathroom was just as dirty and cum-covered as you were, probably.

“Yeah?” Mark looks over at him, unzipping his suitcase and pulling out a change of clothes. Mostly so he can hop in the shower after you’re done.

“You sure you’re cool with this? I know I kind of did a lot of this intentionally, but really, if you’re uncomfortable I’d rather you just tell us–”

“No!” Mark argues at an embarrassingly desperate pitch. “I mean, no.” He corrects himself as he digs for his toiletries.

“That’s what I thought,” Haechan smiles knowingly at him, internally writing a list of things he can do to torture Mark, a list specifically made to cause envy and probably resentment.

“So, like,” Mark swallows, still unsure of his footing in this situation. “When will it happen again?”

Haechan actually laughs at him this time.

“Oh, you thought–” He shakes his head and goes to take off his shirt. “No, no. Mark. You’re still gonna have to catch us to watch.” He explains, throwing his shirt on the presumed “cuck chair” in the room. (Because most places have that, just so you know.)

“Wait, what?” Mark is confused. They want him to watch, but they’re still going to make him go through the embarrassment of catching them?

“That’s the fun part of it for me,” Haechan tries to clear it up. “I like the surprise of someone seeing. I like the reactions. It’s exciting,” He continues, now stopping to really look at Mark. “Looks like you enjoy watching, so–”

Mark nods slightly, tilting his head with a furrowed brow. “For the record, I’ve never been into this kind of thing. You kind of made it hard not to see things.”

“I know.” Haechan laughs. “Gotta get creative on weeknights when there's no parties going on.”

“You do it at parties? Like just right there in public?”

Haechan nods with a smug smile.

“A lot of people don’t even notice, but the ones that do–” Haechan’s eyes nearly light up. “They basically watch. They don’t even pretend to look away.”

Mark feels a little bit flushed at the idea of attending a party with the two of you. He couldn’t imagine being put in a situation where he, along with several others, get to watch you orgasm.

“She likes that?” Mark asks, a little shocked.

“I mean, she gets really into it but I can admit that she seems to like when you watch a lot more.” Haechan glares for a second. “Which again, kind of pisses me off.”

Mark waves him off, trying to act nonchalant about it.

“I hope you know that this is more of a trial run, Mark. If she gets bored of you, she probably won’t be as into it later.”

Okay, ouch. Fair, though. Mark would never stick around if it’s not something you want. He can already sense that Haechan didn’t want it this way either. Maybe Mark watching was exciting, but he does sense a bit of tenseness in the air each time Haechan brings up how you lusted over him so blatantly in the car.

“And if she doesn’t get bored?” Mark counters and Haechan kind of takes internal offense to it. Passive aggressively chuckling towards him.

“Oh, she will.” Haechan says as a way to assure himself rather than answering Mark. “I’m the only person she doesn’t get bored of.”

Mark, for some reason, takes that as a challenge. He might be the one getting the short end of the stick here, but the only reason he’s getting a stick at all is because of you. Regardless of if Haechan wanted him to watch, surely he never wanted you to like it as much as you did.

Well, competition is one way to put it. Haechan resents himself forever even trying to get Mark all flustered. He did it because he wanted to be watched, but he also wanted Mark to be fucking jealous. How the hell is he supposed to be jealous when you, his own girlfriend, got entirely too wet for another man while he was buried into you?

Playing it as cool as he can, Haechan is still excited, just a little less now that he knows he’s going to have to fight for your attention. Those set rules? Between you and Haechan, neither of you had to actually follow those rules. Mark can do what he wants at your discretion, but it’s not like Haechan is gonna just tell him that. He was shocked that you pressed to let Mark join just one time. His whole fantasy is about being watched during a private act, not inviting someone to actively play a part in it. Nevertheless, he granted you a small nod when you suggested it, sternly letting out a small “just this once.”

Sure, he’s the one who fucked you in the car and he’s the one who told you to talk to Mark but, it’s not like he expected the outcome that came from it. It was a moment of lust where he thought it would be hot to see you unable to speak because you’re being fucked– but no. You were speaking to Mark and riding him harder because of whatever the fuck was going on up in that front seat.

Naturally, your boyfriend has that mischievous little glint in his eye when you return from the shower and Mark opts to steal the shower before Haechan can.

“You are aware that you’re getting more out of this than I am, right?” Haechan laughs, pulling you from your stance and flopping you down onto the bed. “I just wanted him to be jealous, you’re ruining my fantasy.”

You smile at him with the same mischievous little glint.

“And you’re an amazing boyfriend for letting me try something new,” You praise, kissing the tip of his nose when he crawls on top of you. “I’m sorry that it’s hot knowing two guys want me this badly.”

Haechan sighs, dropping his face to your neck. Of course, you’d be into that. His thing is people being jealous of what he gets and your thing just has to be the idea of being wanted. It fits a little too well.

“Bet you weren’t even planning to put anything on for bed tonight, were you?” He laughs with a groan, cursing how willing he is to let you have whatever you want despite not wanting to give Mark what he wants.

“Bingo,” You smile evilly, pulling away from Haechan so you can see his face. “Plus, it’s hot seeing you get all possessive. That’s new, even for you.”

Haechan once again sighs with a groan.

“Promise you won’t like, up and leave me for my best friend?”

Realizing there’s a bit of truth behind his concerns, you stiffen a bit.

“You know I wouldn’t do that. Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he can pleasure me better, or treat me better.”

Finally, a genuine smile breaks across his face and it makes you feel warm.

“Do you wanna play a little tonight?” He offers, wiggling on top of you with a newfound desire over the fact that you always know how to silence even the slightest of insecurity he feels.

“After everything from the ride over? I’m tired,” You admit with an embarrassingly cringey pout.

“I’m not tired yet. Just let me do the work, you can just rest–” He tries to convince you and it works, much like it always does.

Haechan was doing this specifically for you. It’s not like he always needs to be seen when the two of you are intimate. It is nice sometimes seeing you act real for him. Seeing your underwhelming and soft reactions to whatever he’s doing because you both know that you’re not putting on a show. He can admit to loving the way you still moan for him despite knowing nobody but him can hear it.

Even knowing Mark will be in the bed next to yours at any moment, you think Haechan can get away with whatever he wants to do privately. And for the most part, he does. At least, at first he does.

Lying on your back with a leg thrown over Haechan’s lower half as his fingers trace lazy circles against your bare skin, you knew his fingers were going lower and lower, but it was relaxing even as your eyes fight to stay open. When Mark comes back into the room, hair still dripping a bit at his failure to dry it properly, you don’t move or react outside of looking at him.

“Hey, you ready to hit the sack?” Haechan calls out, fingers moving lower on your stomach and landing just above where your panties would sit if you were wearing any under this robe.

“Yeah. Water ran cold though, might wanna wait a little bit before you shower, Sorry.” Mark admits with shame, not making eye contact with either of you as he flops himself onto his bed. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, which is something you’ve seen him wear time and time again at home, but man, why does it look so hot now?

Haechan laughs, kind of like an ‘of course there's no hot water for me’ laugh, but he doesn’t mind, if anything, he’s having fun lulling you to sleep with a gentle finger fuck session behind Mark’s back.

The room goes silent save for the television that Haechan flips to some random reality show. You’re still focused on his fingers, more gentle than he normally would be. Still, it’s probably just because, for once, he doesn’t want Mark to know what’s happening.

When your boyfriend’s fingers finally make their way to your clit, it’s not shocking that you’re already wet. Your breathing is still even, and it feels good to be touched right now. You turn your head only slightly to look at Mark. He’s so endearing to look at. Never once have you seen him preparing himself for sleep. For some reason, it feels intimate seeing his bedtime rituals.

With one hand scratching against his hair, he’s on his side and practically hugging his pillow against his head as he fixes his eyes on the television. You can see how heavy his eyes are. He was already tired when he first started his shift of driving, and the back seat doesn’t offer much in terms of a nap. You imagine if he knew what Haechan was doing, he wouldn’t have the energy to participate anyway.

You, though, are feeling a little bit more awake since your clit is being beautifully stimulated by your boyfriend. Mark’s supposed to be watching you with this little deal, but there were no rules that you couldn’t watch him and fantasize, right?

Haechan is a little shocked when you hold his hand in place and turn to face Mark. You close your eyes at first, mostly so it still looks like you’re about to sleep, but you press Haechan’s fingers a bit lower, urging him to penetrate you with them.

He, like the amazing boyfriend he is, follows suit. He turns on his side behind you and spoons you, adjusting his position so that he can swoop his hand under your ass and between your legs in order to do just as you asked of him.

This goes smoothly for a few minutes, with his fingers gently and silently plunging in and out of you. Honestly, Haechan is too good with his fingers. He’s being too quiet compared to normal, again, because of Mark. You know you shouldn’t be including him right now, but you are, even if secretly.

A breath falls from your lips when Haechan rubs his fingers against a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, sending a wave of warmth down your body and dripping out against his fingers.

“Feels good?” He whispers against your ear, noting the way your breathing is a bit more audible.

You let out a small groan in response, very small. Just loud enough for Mark to fix his eyes on you to find you blatantly staring back at him.

You smile at him and press your ass back against Haechan just a bit, and he’s quick to move his fingers a bit quicker inside of you.

Mark just looks at you, processing that it’s already happening again.

The summer air is salty but all too grounding for Mark as he sits on his towel and watches the way you and Haechan appear to be as comfortable as ever wrestling on the shore of the sea. Even after last night, part of him wonders what actually happened but he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask. Not only did you look at him as you hit your climax, but Mark was made aware that he needed to be silent in watching you due to your finger coming up to your mouth in a shushing action.

His eyes darted to Haechan when you did that but he appeared to be a great actor as he watched the tv with his head tucked between your shoulder and neck, fingers plunging in and out of you casually. Even when Mark gently fucked his own fist, staring directly back at you, he realized that this shared moment with you was something Haechan wasn’t aware of. It blurs the lines a bit of what is okay and what isn’t, but the rule is that Mark can watch if he catches the act. He guesses you’re the one breaking rules.

Even now, as he processes this newfound sexual adventure in his head, he’s fond of the relationship Haechan has with you. Incredibly jealous, of course, but also just– Mark wants what Haechan has. He wouldn’t share you, he wouldn’t want people to see him pleasure you, and he certainly wouldn’t want Haechan’s cock to make an appearance at any point during his relationship with you, but you’re not his. Still, the two of you seem to enjoy this kind of thing, and the fact that Mark appears to be the chosen third to take part makes him feel warm. Despite his jealousy, he respects the relationship you have with his best friend for the most part. There’s still that selfishness inside him though, the thought of being able to be between your legs rather than just a person to look at across the room? It drives him insane. Haechan gets to flaunt you, make you feel good, and make you moan but, Mark is very aware that he got all of your attention the night before, even if it wasn’t his own fingers doing it to you. He got your attention in the car too, to the point of Haechan showing his own jealousy.

Again, there’s a thin line between what he’s allowed to do and infidelity. If you ask him to do anything though, he’s going to do it. He’s going to be what you want or need at any given moment simply because he’s a single man forced to live with his extremely sexually adventurous friends, and you happen to be incredibly fucking arousing to him. Haechan kind of did it to himself. Never would Mark have fantasized about you like this if it weren’t for the fact that Haechan desperately wants people to see his cock inside of you.

“Hey!” You shout from the shore, pulling Mark out of his thoughts.

He waves back to you and then glances at Haechan who has a huge smile on his face. Mark watches as you struggle to leave the water, the weight of the waves pushing and pulling you as you look at him. He stands to his feet, kicking off some of the sand on his legs, and makes his way towards you as well, meeting you in the middle.

“I’m gonna have a snack, go waterboard my boyfriend.” You joke when you stop in front of him.

“There’s chips in my bag if you want any,” Mark waves you off, realizing how normal the communication is between the two of you. In the silence, the communication is somehow more intimate.

When Mark makes his way down to the water, straight up to his best friend, for some reason he still feels like he’s walking on eggshells with all of this. Not with you, because you clearly know what you want. Haechan, on the other hand, shows that he’s annoyed over his plan becoming more of a pleasure for everyone but him.

“You’re not hungry?” Mark asks, dipping himself lower into the water and shivering at the ocean breeze.

“Nah, we’re finally here. I’m staying in the water ‘til I’m forced to leave.”

“Ah, good plan.” Mark confirms, allowing himself to float back a bit with the waves.

“Are we okay?” Haechan suddenly asks, standing to his feet and looking down at him. “You really are allowed to decline this offer. I'm even a little nervous about it now.”

Mark squints his eyes open towards Haechan, the sun blinding him more than his best friend usually would.

“It’s a little weird but I like trying new things. I’m not trying to disrespect you by accepting.”

Haechan sighs in relief.

“I know. If it’s gonna be anyone, I'd rather it be you.” He laughs with a sigh. “Still would rather her focus on me but I guess I kind of owe her this.”

Mark adjusts himself back to his feet, tilting his head at Haechan.

“Oh yeah?”

“I mean, it’s not like she was into the whole being watched thing until I told her I wanted to try it.” Haechan looks up into the sky, feeling the sun warm his face. “I liked it more than she did, but she came around, I never forced it or anything.” He breathes in the air and sinks lower into the water. “I think she did it to please me but she started getting really into it after a few times.”

“She’s definitely something–” Mark starts, glancing at your figure flopping back on the sand and sinking your hand into a bag of chips.

“Yeah, and I guess it’s my turn to let her try the things she’s curious about.” He laughs. “Even though it’s my fault and it involves my best friend. I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that neither of you would do anything behind my back.”

Damn.

“Um, yeah.” Mark looks away for a moment. He knows he is famously awful at lying.

Haechan looks at Mark knowingly.

“Like, without me in the room at least,” He smiles, winking at Mark once before throwing a splash at him. “because I know what you guys did last night.”

Mark goes silent, wiping the salt water from his eyes and looking at Haechan apologetically.

“Relax, she told me while you were up there sulking. Said something about the danger of me finding out or something got her going.” Haechan reassures, explaining away any explanation of Mark himself being the reason for it. “I get it. You guys really had me fooled.” He laughs this time.

“Should I like, have not watched?” Mark asks awkwardly, looking away from Haechan and floating back a bit.

“Nah, just give her what she wants. She’s gonna tell me regardless so let’s just try to have fun with this okay? If any of us are having issues, speak up.” Haechan glares for a moment. “Because you know damn well I’ll put a stop to all of it if it goes too far.”

Mark nods, a small smile creeping up on his face.

“What happens at the beach, stays at the beach.”

“God, I hope. I’m not moving you into our room at home.” Haechan laughs, feeling a little better about it.

A very sexually active trip indeed. Mark could sense the tension in the air by the time all of you return to the beach house. Even through dinner, he sensed both you and Haechan staring at him in very different ways. Even though talking made Haechan feel better, he’s still possessive over you and you seem to like it a lot. So, he might be playing it up a bit for your sake.

You are quite literally eye-fucking Mark, and Haechan’s eyes are basically demanding him to keep his cock under lock and key. It’s weirdly erotic, and insanely confusing, but he knows Haechan will speak up if shit goes too far, just like he said he would.

By the time the three of you are piled up on the couch and putting in some shitty romance movie, it gets a little more comfortable.

You’re leaned up against your boyfriend and Mark is leaned up against the arm of the couch at the other end. He doesn’t feel eyes on him anymore and it’s a relief. By the time it’s mid movie, he notes the soft snores coming from Haechan. You, on the other hand, are feeling mischievous. Haechan said to you specifically, away from Mark, no limits. Do what you want to him, ignore the rules, explore, have fun– but be ready to stop at the slightest mention of discomfort from either of them. You’re being given so much fucking power over both of these men. They both want you, and god does it feel fucking amazing to be wanted.

When you shift towards Mark, gently so that Haechan isn’t stirred from his slumber, Mark finds himself leaning towards you without question. Even when you grab his hand from under the large shared blanket, he doesn’t falter.

His attention to the plot on the screen in front of him surely falters though. You’re doing the thing again. You’re excluding your boyfriend and Mark can’t bring himself to give a single fuck right now because you’re quite literally slipping his hand into your panties without so much as a “please?”

Immediately Mark’s fingers explore against his better judgment. He’s seen your pussy stretched out on his best friend, he’s watched you orgasm, he’s heard you moan, but never has he gotten to touch you.

“Mhm,” You encourage gently when Mark slides his fingers down your slit, collecting the slippery arousal and sliding his fingers back up to your clit.

You found yourself wondering how Mark would do it, especially the past day or so. Haechan knew how to please you, but you can’t help but think that the act of someone learning how to please you is just as hot. Mark appears to know exactly how to use his fingers against a woman, the thought of him alone with someone other than you only heightens your pleasure at this moment.

Mark does this for a while, silently and gently rubbing your clit as he forces his eyes to stay on the screen. You just watch him though, and the way he parts his lips in a silent moan when you press against his fingers with the smallest show of want.

The secretiveness of it really gets you going. Seeing Mark turn to mush in your hands, doing anything you could ask him to do, right there while your boyfriend is sleeping next to you? God, what a fucking simp. You love it. You love the fact that his fingers are slightly rougher compared to Haechan’s, and the way he avoids sticking them in you even if you insist by lifting your hips slightly.

You lean towards Mark more this time, moving one leg over his lap and opening yourself up for more.

“You should fuck me.” You whisper into his ear with a voice far too sweet for the words. “He won’t mind.” You add at his silence, feeling his fingers halt as he processes the words.

“I can’t do that–” Mark whispers back, sliding his fingers down again and noting how much wetter you’ve gotten.

“Want me to ask him?” You joke, grabbing his hand and holding his fingers right against your entrance.

Mark shakes his head, feeling nervous as hell as his fingers rest in the one spot he definitely would love to fuck.

“You’re no fun,” You sigh in disappointment, releasing his hand.

That makes Mark panic a little bit, the words of Haechan mentioning that you will get bored with him eventually. It drives him to just–

“Brave boy,” You coo out at the feeling of Mark slipping his fingers inside of you, sliding them in until you can feel his knuckles against your folds. You knew he would give you what you want.“Your fingers are nice. Do you know how to use them, Baby?”

Mark is fucking floored by the idea that his fingers are inside of you, you’re talking to him like this, and Haechan is missing out on all of it.

Except he’s not. Atleast to Mark’s knowledge, Haechan is in dream land. You, on the other hand? You’re very aware that Haechan is terrible at pretending to sleep. Not only is he putting on this show for you, but he’s actually helping you. Kind of a shock, because you really did think he was asleep at one point. He blew his cover with a small smirk towards you, peeking an eye open at your shock of him resting a hand on your other leg and spreading it more in your attempt to get Mark to finger-fuck you. Haechan wasn’t going to help out, but the moment he heard Mark reject you, he figured that his best friend can definitely be trusted in this situation.

One of Haechan’s favorite things about you is how dirty you can be, but never once has he seen you be more dominant over another person. Certainly not him. He finds it incredibly sexy in the way you both mock and talk down towards Mark even though he’s making you feel good. You don’t do that to Haechan, you only moan for him. So yeah, maybe, going against his gut in this situation and allowing Mark to actually touch you is a bit hotter than he wants it to be.

The best part? Mark doesn’t know your cues when you’re nearing orgasm, but Haechan does and he uses that to his advantage. Spreading your leg out further so Mark can do whatever it is he’s doing with his fingers better, Haechan softens at the fact that he would have already brought you to orgasm by now. Your soft mews sound more like you’re trying to fluster Mark rather than a reaction to pleasure, and it’s fun. It’s boosting his ego so high that he actually wonders how long it’ll take Mark to get you there.

You feel just as boosted as Haechan does right now. With his false sleep as he attempts to help you through this, Mark is half-focused on finger fucking you out of fear that he will be caught. It’s all well and good, but you want to cum.

“Mark,” You whisper loudly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be pretending this is a secret.

When Mark tries to pull his fingers out of you at the loud whisper, ultimately so he could pretend he was just watching the movie and absolutely not burying his fingers into his best friend’s girlfriend, you hold his hand in place. Preventing his fingers from leaving you, you look at him.

“Fuck me like he’s not here.” You lean into him and whisper in a lower tone, rolling your hips forward against his fingers as you hold them there harshly. “You can make me cum this way, right? I promise I’ll be quiet.”

Mark looks at you, darting his eyes to the sleeping Haechan next to you, and then he slowly nods with a nervous swallow.

He wants to fuck you so bad, but this is all he gets. Still, it’s more than he anticipated and he will be damned if he embarrasses himself by not getting you off like this. Gently, Mark keeps his eyes on Haechan as he moves slightly over you, getting a better angle with his wrist so that he can quite literally, fuck you senseless with them.

With one hand on the couch over your shoulder, the other between your legs, you watch him as his eyes continuously dart between you and your boyfriend. Mark can’t watch the screen anymore considering he’s now faced away from it, he has to watch you. If this truly was a high-stakes session of pleasure, surely the two of you would be caught like this. Thankfully, Mark doesn’t notice the very aware hand of Haechan gripping your leg open, which makes it more sexy. To see him put your pleasure over his friendship with your boyfriend so willingly, to position himself in such a way that is far more telling than it needs to be, yeah, he’s a fucking simp.

“Oh, fuck–” You choke out, feeling Mark’s newly angled fingers plunge deeper into you. His knuckle bumps against your clit easily when he does this and it has your entire body jolting a bit.

Mark swallows that praise, pulling his fingers out and pushing them back in at a quicker pace. The sound of your pussy is not quite as loud as the movie on the screen, but all three of you can hear it. Even Haechan has to hold back a small moan at how genuine you sounded just now. His grip on your leg becomes almost bruising as his own arousal stirs past a comfortable level.

Mark’s eyes aren’t shifting anymore, you notice. As you stare up at him, he stares right back at you. Noting the way your body slightly shifts up when he harshly pushes his fingers in, he could nearly imagine he’s fucking you. Except if he were, he would hope to have you moaning more, moving more, fucking yourself on him, using him.

You can practically see Mark lose himself to lust. His eyes are dark, and messy hair falling against his lashes as if he were the one being fucked out right now. Internally, you feel such a large amount of fondness over him. You think back to when he fucked his fist in the car. He was showing an extreme amount of intent during that moment and it had your head fucking spinning watching him do it. You can imagine he must be hard right now. Haechan must be hard too. If you wanted to, you could expose Haechan for being awake and ask them both to fuck you right now, but you relent. Relishing in this power of having them both, one more unaware than the other. It’s too sweet to put an end to so quickly.

As you look back up at Mark, you want to kiss him. Haechan never said anything about that but you assume that could actually be crossing a line, so you don’t. Against your own wishes of wanting to keep this a secret, you lean yourself to Haechan who still tries to pretend he’s asleep.

Mark watches and panics, but can already feel you grabbing his hand and keeping his pace up. The fear that runs through of bones of being caught is fucking intense right now, especially when you lean your head into Haechan’s neck and start sucking it.

You can feel Mark try to pry his hand back and you chuckle at it, and you can’t stop smiling against your boyfriend’s neck when you feel Haechan’s hand over yours, holding Mark’s hand in place with more force.

Mark’s eyes widen at the realization, relaxing his hand against both grips that are on it.

“Wait–” He says in a raspy voice, looking between the two of you as Haechan peeps an eyes open. “How long have you been awake?”

Haechan drops the act, removing his hand and now grabbing yours to place against his embarrassingly hard length.

“The whole time.” Haechan glares at him. “Too late to stop now, go on.” He encourages, wincing at the way you instantly grip him through his pants. “Make her cum.”

Mark feels embarrassed again. Despite technically not actually being “caught”, he still feels ashamed of what he was doing, yet, his fingers are still in you.

“Let me see if you can make her cum,” Haechan continues, adjusting his body so that he can look down at what Mark is doing. “Move the blanket babe,” He looks to you.

Shoving the blanket down, Mark notes how your hand is palming against Haechan, and his fingers are inside of you. For some reason, Haechan being hard makes him feel a little less ashamed but still embarrassed. How is he supposed to perform under pressure like this?

“Stop looking at us like that. If you’re not gonna continue, I'll finish her off myself – without you,” Haechan half-insults, half-encourages his best friend.

Mark moves his fingers again, the realization of being given permission washing over him so quickly that it almost felt like an orgasm running through his body. He can do whatever he needs to do to make you come. He doesn’t have to hide it, it’s not a secret.

Without a second thought, Mark pulls himself off the couch and stands to his feet to get between your legs. He looks between the two of you one last time and then down at your pajama shorts. For the first time, without asking, Mark pulls them off of you in one swift motion before falling to his knees and examining how wet you look pulsing around the loss of his fingers.

“How does she look?” Haechan asks with a quirk of his brow, bucking his hips up against your hand and tilting his head to kiss you on the temple.

Mark says nothing but swallows in response, forcing himself to focus on you and pretend that Haechan isn’t there studying the way he fucks into you.

When you let out a small whine at his silence, rolling your eyes the same time you roll your hips, Haechan chuckles and reaches to pull his own pajama pants down. If you three are gonna be doing this, might as well have fun with it.

Mark ignores it still, using his fingers to spread your lips and watch your hole continue to clench around nothing. Even without seeing your face at this moment, he can see how much you want this. Your glistening core is practically begging to be fucked by one of them, if not both. He makes haste, watching as your pussy envelopes three of his fingers at once, clenching them so tightly that he can feel them crowd together inside of you.

You whimper at it, rolling your hips forward to sink his fingers further into you.

“Can I lick her?” Mark asks, not moving his eyes from the way he can see your slick drip down his fingers.

“Does she want you to?” Haechan asks, also not moving his eyes from the way your fist circles the head of his cock before sliding back down and making his shiver.

You don’t even answer, and instead use your other hand to reach for Mark’s head, gripping his hair that’s in reach to you and dragging his face forward until you feel his breath on your clit.

Mark takes that as an invitation, instantly flattening his tongue against your hardened bud and sliding down. You can feel his fingers spreading you open, reaching into you so deeply as you begin to feel his tongue trace around his fingers at your entrance.

You moan, which makes Haechan turn his face and lift your chin as if to shut you up from showing pleasure towards another man. You find that sexy, cute even, so you reward your boyfriend and reassure him with a harsher grip against his cock, milking him of his precum and chuckling into his mouth.

Mark doesn’t even care about what’s happening on the couch. He’s on his knees in front of you, tasting you, fingering you, and he genuinely thinks this might be heaven. He can feel his own length adjust in his pants, happy that the loose fabric accommodates the growth to full hardness. Mark already knows he’s not going to be getting off tonight by anything other than his hand, and he does not give a shit about it.

He licks against you as if you are the last woman on earth, honestly, and Haechan can’t even bring himself to be in competition with Mark at this moment considering how much attention you’re giving to him and not Mark. This could work, surely, he’s never seen you so horny over a simple handjob before.

You roll your hips against Mark’s mouth repeatedly, chasing your high as he continuously tries to accommodate every spot of your pussy that needs stimulation.

“He’s good at eating pussy–” You choke out, reaching to grab Mark’s head and hold him in place against your clit. You can feel his fingers pick up speed when you do that, and you can feel the vibrations of his groans against your clit even more.

“Oh yeah?” Hechans laughs in a breath, darting his eyes to see Mark’s shoulder flexing as he fucks into you, his hair a mess between your fingers. “Better than me?”

You shake your head, eyes sparkling up at Haechan as he finally leans down to whisper to you.

“Are you close? You seem close–”

You nod this time, rolling your eyes back a bit when Mark intentionally licks circles around your clit and pumps his fingers painfully fast into you.

“Don’t tell him,” Haechan warns, fucking himself against your now loosened grip. “Do you want me to take over?”

You say nothing back but Haechan can see your body tense. He makes haste, jumping up from his spot and practically shoving Mark out of the way to get between your legs.

Mark doesn’t even know what’s happening, the loss of your warmth around his fingers and the taste of you lost all too quickly as he watches Haechan bottom out into you in one go. His best friend’s fingers replace was his tongue was doing, and Mark watches the way you lay breathlessly against the couch.

Now is his time, he guesses. Reaching one hand into his pants, he shows no shame in using his slick-coated hand to furiously slide up and down his length at a pace he wishes he were fucking you at.

There, on his knees, Mark pushes and pulls himself to the edge in time with you. He watches your face and watches the way your hands grip against Haechan as he fucks into you at a pace that looks painful. The sound of slaps in the room coming from all three of you, finally, you come undone.

He watches the way you hold Haechan’s hips in place, burying himself into you as you quiver around him, and only then does Mark let out a choked moan, coating the inside of his pants with strings of white.

Just as quickly as you hit your climax, your eyes lazily fall to Mark as he sits out of breath, wet spots staining his pants as Haechan continues to chase his own high.

The two of you look at each other for a long moment. You can’t help but feel that he looks entirely sexy when he’s spent and empty of his arousal. You don’t sense a hint of disappointment in his eyes as he looks back at you, breath uneven, not at all bothered by the fact that he’s not the one fucking you.

Except he is bothered by it. He felt like he came so close to making you come, all for Haechan to step in and take over. Still, that’s your boyfriend. Mark feels lucky enough to even be part of this. And by the time Haechan finally comes, all three of you just look at each other.

“So,” Haechan sighs, out of breath. “She tastes good, right?” He smiles, proud of himself for not letting Mark make you come.

You playfully slap against his head with a laugh, shuffling from the couch and standing to your feet. You examine the wet spot from where you were being fucked open by both of them and smile at it.

“Let’s go shower, again.” You sigh, grabbing Haechan’s hand and dragging him to the bathroom.

Mark is left sitting there, still on his knees, processing what just happened. He could get used to this.

By the third night, Haechan is geared up and ready knowing full well that Mark has already touched you and he’s going to have to share tonight if your words are anything to go by. If you’re asking him to let Mark fuck you, it’s gonna have to be his way.

Your eyes sparkled when Haechan agreed in the silent morning as Mark slept like a fucking rock in the bed across the room.

“Don’t worry,” You assured him. “I love you, I’m just having fun.”

“I know.” Haechan responded to you, silently and looking back at you.

He didn’t worry so much about it after last night, anyway. He got more into it than he thought he would, and the competition of it all got both you and Haechan off. Mark appears to be having fun too, and staying aware of the fake-ass boundaries the two of you set for him.

“Tonight?” You look to Haechan and nod as you head off for the kitchen in an attempt to make something to eat for both of them.

“Tonight, if he’s willing.” Haechan responds, ultimately stirring Mark from his sleep.

“Good morning, you can sleep. She’s gonna make some food since we got her off or something.” Haechan says towards Mark as he stretches his arms and pulls himself out of bed.

“What were you guys talking about?” Mark asks as he hears your footsteps towards the kitchen fade away. The sleep in his voice is heavy and he clears his throat as he rubs his eyes.

“Nothing much. She wants to play a game later.” Haechan tries not to ruin the plan.

“Oh yeah, like what?” Mark sits up, reaching for his phone to check the time.

“Probably monopoly or some shit.”

Mark notes that Haechan appears to not really want to get into it, so he drops it.

“We going to the beach today?” He asks, somehow not feeling awkward at all about last night. It almost feels normal now.

“Yeah, probably after we eat. Wanna go help her with me?”

Something inside of Mark swells up at the invitation from Haechan to help you do mundane things. Boyfriendly things. As if the two of them are your boyfriends, and not just Haechan.

“Gonna brush my teeth first,”

Haechan nods, giving Mark a tired smile as he heads off into the kitchen after you.

Mark isn’t sure if he’s thinking too hard about it or if he’s getting his hopes up. He’s a lover, not a fighter, and very much willing to share you if the two of you offered to involve him in the relationship more than just sex. Cooking in the kitchen with the two of you made him happy. Haechan was clearly in boyfriend mode, guiding you by the waist when you were wisping from one end of the kitchen to the other. Mark was also kind of in boyfriend mode, though the two of you probably didn’t catch on. It’s not that he’s trying to intrude, it’s just that, he kind of has a hard time fucking a woman and not having feelings after the fact.

When Mark said you looked pretty, Haechan didn’t falter even a bit at the compliment. Instead, he smiled at Mark with a nod because of fucking course you look pretty. And when Haechan gave you a light kiss to the lips as you stirred something in a bowl, Mark found himself wanting to do the same. He knows he can’t though, so he keeps to himself in this little unsure bubble of what the two of you feel towards him.

The food was decent, save for the fact that none of you have stepped foot in a grocery store and are surviving off of what you brought in a cooler from home. Mark could tell some of the vegetables were wilted and needed to be cooked, thankfully, none of you enjoy letting food go to waste so that’s why you’re stuck eating it this morning.

It’s comfortable. Too comfortable. Especially when Mark takes it upon himself to do the dishes despite always arguing at home about doing them. Haechan finds himself in a strange kind of headspace too. Lightening up about the idea of Mark being around and touching you, but also, like, still being possessive because you're super into it. If Mark was anyone else, Haechan doesn’t think this trio thing would work out as well. Still, this is a conversation for after the trip.

By the time the three of you are at the beach, you make a show of yourself for both of them and anyone else who happens to be looking your way. If tonight goes anything like you want it to, you need them to be absolutely feral for you by the time the sun sets.

It works for the most part. Ghosting your hand over Mark’s cock under the water, blatantly grabbing Haechan’s out in the open just to see him buckle under the arousal of it being in public. You feel on top of the universe as their eyes go from bright to dark and full of arousal as the day goes on.

When you part from both of them, heading back to the shore in order to find a bathroom somewhere, the two of them stay behind. You do your best in giving those two alone time too because surely they need to talk or something.

That, they do.

“She’s doing all of this on purpose, you know.” Haechan laughs, wading in the water beside Mark. “How are you feeling about all of this?”

Mark shrugs, avoiding the incoming wave and lifting his chin with a wince. “I’m feeling less weird about it now, I guess.”

Haechan nods, looking at him and studying his expression.

“She wants to fuck you.”

Mark can’t help but smile. He has no words to respond to what Haechan just said.

“Shockingly, I kind of want her to too.” Haechan splashes Mark as if he’s mad, but stands back as his best friend wipes his eyes.

“Yeah?” Mark’s eyes are beaming despite the redness of the saltwater hitting them, and Haechan just stares at him.

“I don’t know man, I’ve never been into this kind of thing but like–” Haechan tries to explain, searching internally for a reason as to why he should hold onto the annoyance of sharing his girlfriend. “I don’t know.”

Mark tilts his head, looking at him.

“It’s kind of fun?”

Mark nods this time. He’s still getting the short end of the stick but he literally couldn't care less.

“I like watching and I like when you let me touch her.” Mark admits, glancing away and breathing in through an embarrassed wince over what he just said.

For some reason, that sentence arouses Haechan. “When you let me touch her.” Mark is really giving full power to Haechan to control a sex life that isn’t his and it’s embarrassingly sexy to be given that power over another man. He’s not sexually interested in Mark, but he’s interested in Mark’s sexual interest for his girlfriend. Interested in controlling it.

“This is going a lot further than we ever intended it to.” Haechan asks, sinking himself lower in the water and thinking intently on what’s going to happen after the three of you get home. “Guess we will see what happens.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow.

“If I asked you to fuck her, would you?” Haechan continues, in his head, about why he feels like all of this is okay to him now.

Mark narrows his eyes, wondering if it’s a trap but ultimately nods.

“I mean, yeah, if you both told me to.”

There’s the control again. Mark blatantly gives it up just to get the smallest taste of what you share with Haechan.

“And you wouldn’t do it behind my back? Like, be for real with me right now.”

Mark knows he would probably be too weak to say no to you. He thinks you know it too.

“What makes you think she would go behind your back anyway?” Mark counters, challenging Haechan’s trust in you.

And then it all makes sense. You wouldn’t go behind his back. You’d tell him everything, you’d involve him, or you’d at least ask if you can fuck his best friend behind closed doors.

It all feels like it’s falling into place too perfectly, and that’s the only uncomfortable thing about this. Haechan looks at Mark and then shifts his eyes over to the shore, where you’ve come back from your adventure to the bathroom.

“Nah, you’re right.” Haechan assures himself, standing back up and waving over to you. “Just keep in mind that she’s my girlfriend and I’ll be the one to make her come.”

Mark is well aware that you’re not his, Haechan doesn’t have to rub it in.

Though Haechan never explicitly stated that Mark would be able to fuck you tonight, it became increasingly obvious as the day went on. Even as you blatantly touched him in front of Haechan, he would simply avert his eyes from Mark and carry on with whatever he was doing.

By the time the three of you got back to the house, Mark had to fucking fight himself to not jerk off in the shower. Clearly you were wanting to have fun again tonight if the sheer amount of touching throughout the day is any indication. The showers from all of you went by far too quickly to ignore as well. Mark thinks he beat his record speed of being out and dressed in under six minutes. You and Haechan, opting to shower together, made Mark think the two of you would go in there and fuck behind closed doors, but even that didn’t happen as the two of you were leaving the bathroom in under fifteen minutes.

Now, the three of you are in this beach house away from a city that is far too familiar to you. The air feels electric but also slightly awkward. You don’t know how to start, Haechan certainly doesn’t know how to start, and Mark simply needs the green light to make his attempt at whatever the fuck is supposed to happen. It’s a knowing kind of look that the three of you share as you head into the bedroom one by one. Mark doesn’t know if he should get onto his own bed, or yours at this point considering he hasn’t exactly been told what’s supposed to happen.

He didn’t have to think too hard though, as he trails in behind Haechan who guides you to your own shared bed with him. Mark stands there in silence, watching the way both of you pat your hands on the bed as if to invite him in.

“Shit, this is really happening?” He asks, almost wanting to cover his ears and cringe at the way he breaks the silence. Haechan nods to him with a small shrug.

“If you want it to?” You ask, scooting closer to Haechan and feeling him move a hand to your thigh.

Mark is careful when he makes his way to the bed, glancing at both you and his best friend as if the gig would be up soon and you’d both start laughing at him for believing that this is happening. Instead, though, you adjust yourself and your boyfriend on the bed as Mark makes his attempt to find a space for him to claim.

Now lying on your back, head on Haechan’s lap as you both watch Mark, he sits himself awkwardly on the side of the bed and stares forward.

“Bro, why are you being all shy now? You literally ate her out last night.” Haechan laughs, reaching forward and over you to spread your legs out. Your bathrobe does little to hide the lack of material underneath, already bare and ready for both of the men in the room.

“I don’t know!” Mark argues, glancing over at you and instantly drawing his eyes to what’s beneath the robe. He tries to look away with a gulp of whatever the fuck he was going to say next, but ends up double taking at the view of you being presented to him by Haechan. “I’ve never done this before…” Mark trails off, voice coming to a whisper as he shamelessly stares and the arousal begins to take full hold of his body.

You shift your hips a bit, as if to grind yourself against nothing to show that just like him, you can be desperate too.

“Fuck,” Mark sighs out, shifting his body fully onto the bed and facing you.

“Go on,” Haechan encourages, noting the way his friend is practically drooling at the image of you in front of him like this.

“Should I just,” Mark stops, looking at Haechan and avoiding eye contact with you. “touch her? like, what are my limits?’

Haechan honestly doesn’t care what he does as long as you want it but, what he’s damn sure won’t happen is Mark getting head from you. He can eat you out all he wants but your mouth is to never be on him in any way, shape, or form without being told to do it by Haechan himself.

“Help him out.” You comment, flicking your head back a bit to look at Haechan from under your lashes. He smirks at you in responds with a small nod.

“Remember, you can just tell us to stop if you change your mind,” Haechan directs towards Mark as he leans forward and pulls him closer to you by his arm. Mark falls a bit, on all fours right between your legs as he stares down at your folds. He says nothing in response to Haechan, now lost in the world of getting to taste you again and wondering how many more times he will be granted permission to do this.

“Lick her?” Haechan demands in a question, one that seemingly makes fun of Mark for not having touched you yet. “Get to it before I make you watch again.”

Mark listens, granting Haechan a nice little ego boost as he hums from behind you at your sharp inhale when Mark kisses against your clit. Still, this is going to happen his way and if Mark thinks he can eat pussy well, he’s about to learn.

Haechan leans forward, your body leaning with him as he harshly grabs Mark’s hair, pressing his lips against you harder, guiding his head up and down. “Stick your tongue out–” Haechan demands, ultimately controlling how Mark eats you out from above.

Strangely enough, Mark allows it. He sticks his tongue out the moment Haechan demands it, and allows himself to be guided by the hair against your pussy. He groans out against you, tasting you again despite it not being of his own free will. Would Mark prefer eating you out the way he wants to? Absolutely. Does the feeling of having his head guided between your legs also kind of get him off? Oh, fuck yeah. All he has to do is imagine it’s your hand doing it.

You, however, watch as Haechan pulls Mark up, still by the hair, and looks at him.

“Tongue fuck her, I’ll take care of the rest.” He says, releasing Mark and watching the way he sinks down between your legs again.

Making it easier for him, you prop your legs on his shoulders, ultimately boxing Mark in against your sleek and glistening hole. It isn’t long before you feel his tongue circling, inserting against your walls. It’s not a lot to go off of, but god he looks so good between your legs like this. The image only gets better when Haechan unties the loose knot of your robe and pinches against one of your nipples, his other hand going straight to your clit and rubbing it just the way you like.

“Can you cum on his tongue?” Haechan asks against your ear, holding you against him with the hand playing against your nipple. “Let him really taste you?”

You nod to him with a moan, shifting your hips as if to fuck yourself on Mark’s tongue. Each pinch against your nipple sends a sensation straight to where you’re being stimulated the most, and yeah, you can definitely come on Mark’s tongue if he keeps trying to reach as deeply as he is now.

Haechan’s fingers are experts when it comes to your body, he could have you falling apart right here, right now if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He watches, instead, the way you tighten your legs around Mark’s head to pull him in closer. The way his best friend doesn’t even come up for air is laughable, but he gets it.

When your boyfriend rubs your clit faster, it has you chasing Mark’s tongue harder, and when you chase Mark’s tongue, he makes a point to lick every crevice you have to offer in order to entice moans and groans of his name from your mouth.

When you start to tense up, Haechan knows exactly what it means. He lurches forward again and pulls Mark away from you, reaching back just as quickly to rub your clit harder.

“Watch her cum,” Haechan smiles, abusing your clit just the way you love it until your legs are shaking and falling from Mark’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” Mark sighs out, watching your pussy drip out its continuous orgasm. Without any indication from the two of you, he takes the risk and dips back down, tongue lapping up the mess of your arousal and humming against your folds in a beautiful desperate mantra.

“Oh god–” You choke out, jolting from the sensitivity of his tongue toying with your pussy, Haechan continuing to press your orgasm further, not relenting even as sensitivity takes hold.

Mark licks up every single bit of it and Haechan watches him, feeling you continuously quiver in his grasp as you come down from the high.

“Now, fuck her.” He smiles, looking down at you and the way you already look dazed.

Mark shoots his head up to look at Haechan, instantly he’s nodding and practically throwing his pants off. A true desperate show of how much he wants to be inside of you.

Both you and Haechan examine Mark when he pulls his cock out. You’ve seen it before but never in its full glory. He’s big. Bigger than your boyfriend, thicker than your boyfriend.

Haechan glances down at you with an ‘are you sure you wanna do this?’ look and all you can do is chuckle and wiggle your hips as if to entice Mark to fuck you so senseless that Haechan appears to be jealous again. It wouldn’t take much, really, because Haechan is jealous right now. He needs to make damn sure you know that his cock is the only one that can make you scream, regardless of size.

Mark watches the two of you share looks and instantly gets a bit shy, doesn’t change the fact that he’s gently jerking himself off in preparation though.

“Condom?” Mark asks, obviously.

“No,” You say, nudging him closer again with your leg. “Im on the pill and you live with us, I know for a fact that you haven’t been fucking around.”

More shy now, Mark averts his eyes as he shuffles his way closer, all the way until he can feel his cock pressed against your leg. In one last attempt before he goes off the deep end, he looks to Haechan for approval and is granted it almost instantly with a nod.

He slides in, painfully slowly in your opinion, but to Mark it’s like he’s trying to feel each ridge, clench, and wall around him as he does it. You wince only a little at the size, taking a deep breath and grabbing Haechan’s hand when he bottoms out.

Mark attempts to let you adjust, but it doesn’t go as smoothly as he wants to because the second he pulls his hips back, he’s slamming into you with a force he didn’t even know he had. The sounds you let out as he does this has Haechan going fucking insane, you can feel his cock against your back continuously twitching as Mark fucks into you.

Only when you keep your eyes on his best friend does Haechan move from under you, replacing himself with two pillows as he stands at your side.

“Look at me,” He demands, lowering his pants enough to let his cock spring free and in front of your face. “Stop looking at him,” He continues, stroking himself as he stares down at you.

This is what you want. You want them to fight for your attention right now. Thankfully to Haechan, Mark is in his own world, head thrown back as he continuously plows into you with the obvious need of a man who hasn’t had sex in months.

You stare up at Haechan then allow your eyes to fall to his cock in hand, without hesitation you open your mouth for him.

“Good girl,” He praises, setting his cock on your tongue and allowing you to feel the weight of it before he slowly slides further into your mouth. “How does it feel to be fucked from both ends?” Haechan asks with a bit of a demeaning tone. “Is it everything you ever wanted?” He asks again, this time sliding further down your throat before taking hold of your head and holding it in place.

“I bet it is.” He continues through a sigh, effectively fucking your mouth open much like his best friend is doing to your pussy.

One thing Mark doesn’t seem to catch onto is the fact that both you and Haechan are talkers during sex. Mark, not so much, so when your mouth is gagged by a cock, he has no choice but to listen to Haechan talk to you.

Mark’s hips stutter only slightly when you gag around your boyfriend, all because that gag appears to travel down your body. Your pussy clenches him so tightly that he could honestly start crying right now if it wouldn't end with him being made fun of.

“Do that again–” Mark moans, gripping your legs and spreading them away from his hips. He angles himself a bit more by placing both hands under your ass and pressing into you again, this time stilling his hips so he can feel your walls jerk him off.

Haechan smirks, not knowing what the fuck Mark is referring to.

“Do what again? Gag her?” He asks, jolting his hips forward and again sliding down your throat.

You gag, and your pussy constricts.

“Goddamn, yes, that.” Mark almost whines, trying to press his cock into you even deeper.

Haechan looks down at you and the way your eyes start to glisten with tears. He knows they’re good tears, especially with the way you try to smile around his cock.

“So dirty,” He compliments, sliding out of your mouth and wiping a tear from your cheek. “This okay?” He continues. Knowing you like it, but he still needs to get that confirmation considering this is new to all three of you.

You nod with a moan and a deep breath, grabbing his cock and sinking it straight back down your throat. Haechan seethes a string of curses when you do that. You’re too fucking good at deep-throating and it’s driving him up a fucking wall how hot you are right now.

Being fucked open is one thing, but being fucked open from both ends is another. Even with Mark practically cockwarming himself with you, you can feel how rock hard he is inside of you, his thickness consistently putting pressure against your g-spot. God, you feel so full.

Haechan elicits gags from you, pulls out so you can breathe, and then goes right back to fucking your mouth at his own pace. Mark, on the other end, has since lost all form of self control with your last gag. Your pussy is so wet around him, clenching him so fucking tightly, he can’t help it when he grips your ass firmly and essentially gags you himself with how hard he begins to fuck into you. Even Haechan is thrown off by the way you stop sucking and your mouth goes slack.

He slides out of your mouth, listening as a drawn out moan of Mark’s name comes from your lips.

“Look at her,” Haechan glares, forcing Mark to slow his hips and look at you.

Mark is looking, watching as your eyes fall to him and you buck your hips up as if to ride yourself on him.

“God, please Haechan, can she ride me?” Mark loses composure, slipping his hands out from under your ass and grabbing your waist.

Haechan doesn’t even get to answer, he can see you look at him with pleading eyes. You want to ride Mark. He bows his head in approval and wonders when the fuck he became the third wheel in his own relationship, that is, until you sit yourself up, push Mark back, and settle yourself on his thighs.

You don’t move as you look at your boyfriend, your pleading eyes now turning to concern as he stands by himself off of the bed. For some reason, it comforts him.

“She takes it so well, right?” Haechan averts his eyes to Mark, getting behind you on the bed and settling down with his cock in hand. “Ride him babe,”

So you do, rolling your hips forward and backwards in a way that has Mark slipping in and out of you with ease. He can feel you drip onto his legs and honestly, he’s in fucking heaven right now as he places both hands on your thighs and stares directly at his cock disappearing inside of you.

It’s a shame really, considering being ridden is one of Mark’s weaknesses.

“Can I cum in her?” Mark blurts, his hips attempting to fuck into you despite your weight on him keeping his hips down. “Haechan, please? Can I cum in her?”

His questions come out frantic, pleading for the ability to release his control and absolutely let you fuck him into oblivion, but he waits, now halting your hits from moving as if to contain the load he’s about to release without permission.

“What if I say no?” Haechan laughs, gripping his cock and watching the way Mark twitches inside of you.

You move your hips again, a small chuckle lightly coming out alongside Haechan as Mark hits rock bottom and somehow spirals further down.

“Shit, shit!” Mark groans, urging you to lift up a bit as he painfully begins to slam into you.

Haechan can hear his cum seeping out of you with each plunge of his cock, he can see the white running down Mark’s legs and goddamn it’s way hotter than he anticipated it being.

Without a second thought Haechan is pulling himself up and positioning himself behind you. He doesn’t say a word as he presses the small of your back forward and prods his cock at your entrance. Right there beside Mark, he slides in with an uncomfortable stretch.

“This is how you fuck my girlfriend,” Haechan groans, feeling your pussy hug around his cock and his best friend’s. He can already feel Mark going soft, but he doesn’t relent. Haechan starts moving his hips regardless, fucking Mark’s released load back into you with impossible speed.

Honestly, Haechan is on cloud 9 listening to both of you whine and moan. Neither of you stopped him, and even Mark finds the sensitivity of his cock being fucked against as insanely pleasurable though painful.

You’re staring down at Mark, and he’s looking up at you as Haechan continuously stimulates you both. At this moment, you’re both in this together and Haechan has full control. Deserving control, you think. Smiling at Mark, you drop your head to his neck and start talking.

“You felt so good,” You praise him, moaning at the way Haechan slams into you. “Can you get hard again?”

Mark simply nods because he cannot, for the life of him, think of words right now. He’s already feeling his arousal coming back to him. Even Haechan feels it, in the way his softening cock manages to get hard again within mere minutes. He’s never been able to get hard again that quickly, but then again, Mark was practically pussy starved so he doesn’t question it.

The fit inside of you grows tighter and tighter as Mark’s cock wakes up to the overstimulation, all the way until all three of you are wincing at the drag of Haechan continuously fucking into you. The sound of moans, slick, and heavy breathing is all that can be heard when Mark moves his hips at an opposite rhythm of Haechan.

“Oh, shit–” Haechan moans, throwing his head back and looking down at how impossibly stretched open you are. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good–” He babbles on, praising you, or Mark, he doesn’t even know at this point.

Overstimulated, his cock feels as though your pussy has a death grip on it as he continues to squeeze along size Mark’s length, your pussy clenching them so tightly that Haechan barely has to move at all to feel like he’s fucking the daylights out of you. Mark’s small thrusts only push the orgasm to the edge for both you and Haechan. The head of Mark’s cock drags alongside Haechan’s length with each thrust and it has him nearly gasping for air when his orgasm hits him.

Mark hasn’t stopped moaning, nor have you. Who has control in this situation? Not a single person, not even Haechan, as he frantically bottoms himself out and shoots his cum against the impossibly tight space inside of you. Haechan’s orgasm ignites yours, your g-spot having been stimulated this entire time, you nearly squeeze so hard that they both are forced out of you, but they fight the sensation, continuing to bury themselves into you through your high.

Haechan’s now spent cock slowly slips out of you after your orgasm, he sees you slump over Mark whose cock is still hard inside of you.

Mark struggles to orgasm again so he pulls out of you the moment Haechan shoots a look at him, as if to tell him to stop. Still in his aroused state of mind though, Mark practically shoves you back onto Haechan as he works himself up to whatever orgasm he has left by his own hand.

It takes a moment, but you feel his second load hitting against your thighs not long after and all that’s left to do now is assess the damage.

There was no damage. Even as Haechan apologetically begs you to tell him the truth. To tell him he went too far, or was too rough. You liked it, and you hate that you have to convince him of it.

“You sure you’re okay?” Haechan asks, kissing you once after you nod with a dazed smile. “And you?” Haechan averts his eyes to Mark, who is sprawled out regaining his breath at the foot of your bed.

“I’m great, actually.” He says, looking over to Haechan with a dopey kind of smile.

“You’re both insane,” Haechan finally releases a breath of relief, realizing how much you and his best friend have in common sexually.

“You didn’t like it?” You ask, and Mark nods along with your question to look at Haechan.

“Of course I fucking liked it.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Mark asks, sitting himself up now and pretending he doesn’t get a headrush almost instantly.

Haechan thinks hard about it. Is there even an issue? Did he ever expect to actually share his girlfriend with Mark this way? Of course not, but it doesn’t change the fact that all three of you enjoyed every bit of that. Plus, Mark doesn’t appear to be super competitive and listens to everything Haechan says to do.

Who wouldn’t be turned on by that kind of control anyway?

~ EPILOGUE ~

Mark has become a constant fixture in your sexual relationship with Haechan now, but he doesn’t step out of line much to Haechan’s pleasure. Even now, months down the road from the beach vacation, all three of you came to terms with the fact that Mark wants to stay, and so do the two of you.

Rent is split three ways, you’re split two ways, but you get it all. Truly, you feel like you have the best end of this bargain. Even now, Haechan tends to have more private sex with you as if to avoid constantly living in the world of kinks and pushing boundaries. You enjoy it. You love sharing moments with him without Mark around, and even when Mark does walk in on it, he doesn’t stay most of the time because now, when it’s meant to be for all three of you, Mark is blatantly invited. He knows now that any sex he isn’t aware of isn’t for him, despite it being the complete opposite from before.

It’s a comfortable kind of thing. Even if the three of you don’t talk about it outside of these walls, it’s what you like, it’s what they like. Even Haechan has loosened up a bit more about you and Mark together. It’s not like you’re dating him, but your boyfriend has actually implied you go busy yourself with Mark when he’s exhausted or too tired to fuck you himself. If anything, when you do go and busy yourself with Mark, Haechan usually ends up watching anyway.

“Mark,” Haechan says from across the room playfully. “I hope you know that she’s still my girlfriend and I will always be the one to fuck her better.”

“You’re really gonna say that after I was the one who made her cum twice last night before you even got your cock out?” Mark laughs.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Haechan glares but Mark can see his smile.

“I know. You keep her happy.” Mark drops the playful act and decides to genuinely let Haechan know.

“Unfortunately, your cock is required for her happiness sometimes.”

“No, his cock is required for fun. You are required for my happiness.” You interject, reminding them that you literally live here too.

“And that’s why this little arrangement works out.” Haechan agrees, lifting himself to kiss you. “Only I get your love and affection. Mark just gets 30% of your orgasms.”

“10% of yours too, apparently.” Mark shifts his eyes to Haechan.

Haechan does remember the few times he’s let Mark fuck you and grew so aroused by how you act with his best friend in contrast to himself, that yeah, he guesses he can give Mark and his huge cock some credit for making him come a few times, but really, it’s because he’s seeing his girlfriend stretched out and cock stupid, definitely because they both whine in unison over him. At the end of the day, it’s cute, especially because Mark can still never fuck you as good as he will. You may be cock-stupid for his size, but you’re cock-drunk for how Haechan works it inside of you.

And so, it appears that Haechan is in a happy relationship with you, a healthy one. One where he’s perfectly comfortable cleaning his best friend’s cum out of your hair.

#mark lee smut #haechan smut #nct127 smut #nct smut #nct mark smut #nct haechan smut #nct dream smut

2K notes · View notes

flowerui · 3 months

Text

♫ we both like apple cider, pgw

fluff & light angst, 4.1k words ୨୧ first fic on this blog! feedback is appreciated!! ^_^ i've had awful writer's block for MONTHS so i hope i havent gotten too rusty,,,

wherein dancing is your favorite way to destress, until a certain gunwook park goes and spoils it all.

꒰ requested. gender neutral reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used), reader is a year older than gw, dancer reader, bff hanbin, one-sided enemies to friends to lovers, college au, misunderstandings, set in the us, does this count as forced proximity? light angst, fluff (it gets so cheesy idk what happened to me), drinking/underage drinking ꒱

Dancing had always been your favorite way to unwind. After a long day of classes, practice is like a treat; the mental toll of having to listen to your professors drone on all day, and procrastinating assignments until the night they’re due is easily unraveled by dancing until you can’t feel your limbs—it’s unmatched.

That’s why, despite it being Wednesday (the second worst day of the week), you walk out of your last class with a skip in your step, like nothing could ruin your day.

Nothing except a man named Hanbin, that is.

After changing, you enter the practice room, ready to forget your worries. But before you can begin, you see a paper stuck on the wall beside the door—Hanbin must’ve finally put together the choreo for the solo and duet performances for an upcoming recital for some event on campus (truthfully, you can't be bothered to remember all the details, that's Hanbin's job), and decided on who’d best fit the roles. You’re a little late, so it’s just you who curiously shuffles over to take a look.

Seeing your name under Duet makes you smile until you read your counterpart's name. Gunwook Park.

You find a spot to sink to the floor in the back of the room. Suddenly, you’ve changed your perspective on dancing; it’s the worst thing to happen to you. You regret ever discovering this useless passion of yours, who even needs passions in this economy?!

Hanbin would tell you otherwise, but you believe that you have pretty good ideas.

You’d tried to take an easier route and complain to Hanbin that you absolutely could not work with Gunwook for a duet. But he was adamant about not making any alterations at this point, at least not just because you don’t like Gunwook—what a traitor, what happened to friendship?

Since complaining about your unfair working conditions did fuck all, you came up with a wonderful solution. You get paired with the number one person on your shit list? Just don’t show up to rehearsals. Boom, problem solved. Though it’s easier said than done; you’re a creature of habit, and the disappointment of remembering you can’t destress with dance is depressing.

And, of course, avoiding both Hanbin and Gunwook is a chore.

It’s on day four that you consider, maybe Hanbin is right sometimes. You were only successful in avoiding everything except schoolwork because college kicks everyone’s ass, and finding free time starts to feel like finding a needle in a haystack. But, maybe ditching practice when you live with the leader of your dance team wasn’t your best idea. On Sundays, both you and Hanbin usually end up being home at the same time.

And like an idiot, you forget this detail and trudge out of your room at two in the afternoon (no, you certainly did not just wake up, thank you very much) to find something acceptable to eat.

As you’re rummaging through the pantry, you hear your name called in that tone. The one where Hanbin’s voice sounds mildly shrill and a bit patronizing, the one that lets you know you’re in trouble.

Yeah, not your brightest idea—it might take over the number two spot of your top three worst ideas, followed by trying to gaslight a random group of people into believing that Play-doh is edible after you’d had a drink too many at your first college party at number one. (To be fair, you did not expect a twenty-something-year-old man to have Play-Doh on hand and tell you to prove it. Yes, you tried. You vomited on the guy’s shoes.)

Rigidly, you slowly turn to face Hanbin, who has a terse smile on his face.

“...Yes?”

“I thought maybe you hadn’t shown up to rehearsals because you weren’t feeling well, but yesterday, Gunwook told me every time he spotted you on campus, you naruto-ran away.”

“Uh,” you fake cough into your elbow, “Must’ve been someone that looks like me? ‘Cause I have been feeling kind of under the we—”

You shriek and make a run for it when Hanbin stomps over with that creepy hamster puppet you’d given him as a gag gift last year in hand. Eventually, you get cornered and get a creepy hamster puppet thrown in your face. “You can’t just ditch practice because you have some petty one-sided rivalry—or whatever it is—with Gunwook. You’re risking embarrassing the whole team! What are you planning to do, just not learn the choreography?”

“You know it's not a rivalry...” You grumble.

“You’re being childish,” Hanbin sighs, “I’ve already told you that whatever your deal is with Gunwook is some misunderstanding, he’s a sweet guy.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You huff, probably not helping the childish accusation. You’re tired of hearing that about what a good guy Gunwook appears to be because you know what you heard.

Without another word, you stomp off to your room.

If you had any hopes of getting out of going to rehearsal again, they’re promptly stomped on by Hanbin waiting outside of your class when you trudge out.

“Really?” You groan, and walk over to your supposed friend, “You don’t need to escort me.”

“I think I do,” Hanbin crosses his arms, fixing you with a look, like he knows you better than yourself… okay, he does ninety percent of the time, but that doesn’t mean he can act like it. “I’m pretty sure I saw you ready to head in the wrong direction before you saw me.” He says before grabbing your arm and pulling you down the hall.

“I don’t even get what your deal is with Gunwook,” Hanbin finally says when you’re about halfway to the studio, “I know you said you heard him say something… unsavory, but that just doesn’t sound like him at all. I think you should talk to him, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

“I know what I heard, Bin…”

“I’m not saying you didn’t hear what you heard, but maybe there’s some missing context.”

You try to consider Hanbin’s words, even as you absentmindedly head into the changing rooms, and reluctantly shuffle into the practice room afterward, you truly do.

But all the rational thinking and breathing techniques in the world cannot quell your ire when you see Gunwook. Calmly walking over and refraining from saying anything uncouth is a true test of mental strength—one that you are quite afraid of failing.

“Hey—” Gunwook rises from his spot in the corner of the practice room to greet you.

“Let’s get started.” You blurt out, aware of how cold and biting your dismissal comes off. To be fair, Hanbin didn’t tell you to be particularly nice, he just insisted you show up.

“Oh, right,” Gunwook’s expression wilts, but he clears his throat and plasters a polite smile on his face. “I’m sure Hanbin already let you know he wouldn’t be here to help us out today—he’s helping Natty with her solo. I’ve got the choreo down, so I should be able to guide you if needed.”

“I practiced at home.” You did. A little bit, it wasn’t easy with the limited space in your cramped—ahem, homey apartment. But practicing a duet by yourself, then giving up after stubbing your toe on every fucking piece of furniture in your home, and practicing it with your duet partner are two different things.

“Oh, that’s good… um, I’ll start the music.”

Your name is followed by an exasperated sigh. With reluctance—because your phone’s home screen is just that interesting—you glance up from your phone, to see Gunwook eyeing you through the mirror.

“Could we try to get through the routine? Maybe without you scratching me this time?” Gunwook gnaws at his bottom lip, sweat beading at his temple. He’s actually been hard at work, practicing while you sat in the corner of the room—essentially sentenced to a time-out after accidentally scratching Gunwook every time you tried to run through the routine with him. Accidentally.

You can’t help the frown that sets on your lips. Only to you, it seems, Gunwook Park is an enigma. When he first joined the team, he seemed nice, and he wasn’t much younger than you, you just never got the chance to properly talk to him. However, now you never want to speak to him, the fact that you have to work so closely with him is nauseating.

Tampering down all the ugly word vomit bubbling in your throat, you mentally repeat Hanbin’s words from yesterday to yourself, ‘You’re risking embarrassing the whole team’. Not only do you find most of your teammates to be more than bearable, but you also you can’t bomb a performance because you were too petty to practice the choreography, so, even though the thought of being so close to Gunwook—having to touch him makes you full body cringe, you suck it up.

“Sure.”

Begrudgingly, you get into position and wait for your cue. As the music starts up for what feels like the billionth time that evening, you miss the many nervous glances cast your way.

Succeedingly, you manage to not cause any more bodily harm, even when you have no choice but to get close enough to Gunwook to the point you cannot look anywhere but into his eyes. The urge to flee strikes, as unease among other odd emotions you will not address churn in your gut, but you deal with it (read: ignore it).

You manage to run through the routine once, then again, and again, and again, until your limbs feel like gelatin and you have no option but to sprawl out on the floor. It occurs to you how much you missed this feeling, you can barely believe you let your pettiness get in the way of it.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Turning your head to the side, there’s Gunwook, also sprawled out beside you. Huh, you don’t even have the negative energy within you to loathe his presence in the moment.

“You just did. But you can ask one more thing.”

A goofy grin splits Gunwook’s lips before he turns his head back to face the ceiling, expression shifting a little more seriously. “Did I… was there something that I like did? Or said to upset you?”

Oh. Right. So, you haven’t forgotten your distaste for Gunwook. You feel your good mood sour, as you scoff, and force yourself to finally sit up—your limbs are very much protesting, screaming at you, matter of fact, but fuck them. And fuck Gunwook Park. “Seriously?”

You glance over your shoulder, Gunwook, who sat up shortly after you, only blinks at you curiously, as though he hasn’t got a clue.

“You really don’t know? Do you just talk shit about everyone and that’s why you can’t seem to remember me?”

“What…?” Gunwook’s brows furrow, “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you." You push yourself up off the ground, fixing Gunwook with an exasperated look, "After our performance at orientation in August, you had a lot to say about my skill, and how ridiculous I looked.”

“I don't…?” You watch as the confusion and then the recognition passes over Gunwook’s features, “No, I—shit,” he hangs his head with a groan, which doesn’t serve to dissipate any of your arising confusion. “That wasn’t about you.”

“I heard you say my name, don’t bullshit me.”

“I—okay, I definitely said your name, but it seriously wasn’t about you. There was this, um, character in a film my roommate watched for some project; they were supposed to be a dancer, but they were godawful. I was talking about the character, and I didn’t even think about how they had the same name as you, or about how loudly I was talking about that.”

“Oh,” you say, rather intelligently. You consider the thought that he could be lying, but he looks at you with such earnestness, remorse practically pooling in his eyes, you can’t even entertain the thought for more than a moment.

“Yeah, oh. I’m sorry you thought I was talking about you…”

“No, I’m sorry,” you quietly sit back down, anger gone as quick as it arose, and flop back on the floor with a sigh. Having your entire view of Gunwook Park debunked in a mere minute was not on tonight’s bingo card.

“I should’ve—Hanbin kept telling me it was probably a misunderstanding and to confront you, but I just stewed in my misguided hatred. God, Hanbin’s going to be insufferable once I tell him he was right all along.”

Gunwook huffs a laugh, “I’m glad we sorted this out, finally. Um, I guess we should wrap up for tonight since it’s getting late. Can I walk you home?”

“Don’t you live on campus? You don’t have to walk me home if you just have to walk back here…”

“It’s fine!” Gunwook smiles, oddly enthusiastic. Weird, personally, you dread having to walk home after practice. “I want to, and I guess now we can get to know each other? Now that you don’t hate me.”

“Yeah… okay, I’ll grab my stuff.” You sit back up again, as much as you’d like to become one with the floor.

“Okay, cool.”

“Cool.” you can’t help but smile, seeing the wide grin on Gunwook’s face. You’re going to choose to believe the warmth in your cheeks is because you’re still cooling off from rehearsing.

The idea of rehearsing is a lot more palatable now that you don’t despise your duet partner. The actual rehearsals aren’t too bad either… they’re actually kind of enjoyable.

Hanbin was, in fact, very insufferable when you spilled everything that’d happened that day to him. He’d been waiting up for you, sitting on the armchair in your living room, and nearly gave you a heart attack when he flicked on the lamp beside him; like he was your mother and he’d caught you sneaking back in the house.

“Hey, how was class?” Gunwook has taken to waiting for you outside your classes on rehearsal days, you even say hi to each other when you see the other on campus, and maybe talk if you’re not busy.

“Don’t get me started…” you groan, “I have no idea what my professor was on about today, but I thought his jaw was going to unhinge before he finally stopped talking.”

Gunwook chuckles, and grabs your bag from you, cradling it to his chest. “I thought I told you I could carry my bag myself?”

“And I told you that you could try to take it back.”

You did try, and you decided you do not like freakishly strong guys. “Whatever… what about you? How was your class?”

“Didn’t go today…” Gunwook trails off, glancing down at your linked arms. A habit after losing Hanbin in crowds one too many times. It feels nice with Gunwook, though. “Um, my roommate—” he clears his throat before he continues looking forward, revealing his red ears. Oh, that’s cute.

“He kept me up late ‘cause he needed help with his film project that he’s been procrastinating. I ended up waking up at like one-thirty…”

“Really? So, you just came straight here after waking up?” You tsk, choosing to look away from his pouted lips for your sake. “Did you even eat? Let’s stop by this café a few blocks away before we rehearse. It opened last month, Hanbin and I were supposed to check it out, but I think he forgot.”

You’re not blind, of course, Gunwook is, well, objectively attractive (subjectively as well, perchance). With much coaxing, you might’ve been able to admit it a week ago when you hated him. But, his attractiveness is far too illuminated when you’re a mere inches from his face; faced with his distractingly pretty brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. Oh God, he’s cute. He’s so fucking cute, and you are so fucking screwed.

Before you can say something so embarrassing you’d have to migrate to another country and assume another identity, you take the initiative to part from Gunwook, carefully backing away, and clearing your throat, “Should we take a break?”

Except that doesn’t even help, because when you sink to the floor to watch YouTube, Gunwook is beside you, smushed at your side to watch whatever you’re watching. You can’t even remember what video you tapped on, but apparently, you’re seven minutes into a video when Gunwook reaches over to pause it.

“Hey, um, one of my friends—his name’s Junhyeon, his frat, Zeta Rho Xi is having a party this weekend. He kinda roped me into going, and I was just wondering if you were free…? I would, um, it’d be cool if you could stop by.”

Parties haven’t been your thing for a long time; you tried to party freshman year, since people seemed to go on about the college parties. You just couldn’t get super into it, plus only things like the Play-Doh incident came from parties… and that’s why you’re not sure why you say, “Yeah, no, I should be free. I’ll check it out.”

You aren't even free, you have an essay you’ve written approximately two sentences for that happens to be due Monday. But the smile on Gunwook’s face makes agreeing feel like the right choice.

Immediately upon stepping inside, you remember why you hate parties. One, you lose Hanbin instantly. Two, trying to push through a bunch of sweaty, drunk people (who are surprisingly sturdy) is a pain in the ass. And three, it’s loud, you already feel like you need a drink. Or maybe three.

You manage to make it to a mostly empty kitchen, and at that point, you’ve lost any motivation to go search for Hanbin or even Gunwook. For the most part, you’ve given up caring about being ‘lame’, so, you’re perfectly content sitting in the kitchen on your phone at a party while sipping on possibly the worst quality beer you’ve tasted in your twenty years of life.

It’s maybe thirty minutes until you finally look up from your phone at the call of your name over the ear-damaging volume of music.

Hanbin stumbles into the kitchen, using Gunwook as support. You can make out your friend’s flushed cheeks, even in the dim lighting, you have no idea how he’s gotten drunk so fast. “There you are! I found Gunwookie, it looked like he was waitin’ around for you, ‘cause he was just in a corner lookin’ around… didn’t you guys exchange numbers?”

“I already told you I forgot to ask…” Gunwook mumbles.

“Oh,” Hanbin lets go of Gunwook to slide up beside you, “Hey, did you know that, um—” Gunwook rushes over to slap a hand over Hanbin’s mouth, are they both drunk? It’s more difficult to tell with Gunwook, his cheeks always look pink…

Hanbin removes Gunwook’s hand with a glare, “Don’t interrupt me,” he chides, as sternly as he can while drunk. “Anyway, ‘m so glad you two figured things out. I hope Gunwook tells you about his massive heart boner for you.”

Hanbin makes it probably ten times worse by continuing, “He’s—he’s had such a big crush on you since like, um, since like the millisecond he joined the team. But this whole time you thought he was mean to you, isn’t that silly?”

What isn’t silly is the look on Gunwook’s face, he looks positively mortified.

“...Okay, Bin, I think you’re ready to go home already,” you smile tersely, side-stepping the topic for now, maybe forever actually. “Gunwook, can you help me with him?” You ignore Hanbin’s slurred protests. It must take a moment for Gunwook to recoup before he’s at Hanbin’s other side, helping you pull the drunkard up.

You avoid looking in Gunwook’s direction, despite the fact you can feel him burning holes into the side of your head. Of course, there’s no avoiding the conversation—inevitably, you’re going to have to talk to Gunwook about what Hanbin said, but maybe you can get out of it tonight…?

It’s not that you’re particularly afraid… okay, well, you are, except it’s just unnecessary anxiety. Now you feel better about admitting to yourself that you’re interested in Gunwook. But what if Hanbin’s drunk rambling was just drunk rambling, and it was all nonsense? Well, Gunwook probably wouldn’t seem so nervous if that were the case, but maybe he’s nervous because he just doesn’t want you to be under the impression that he—

“Oh, hey, I’ve been looking everywhere for Hanbin…”

“Oh, Hao, hey.” you mentally thank Hao for unknowingly rescuing you from spiraling into your annoyingly irrational train of thought.

“Do you want me to take him off your hands? We were planning to ditch before he disappeared.”

Okay, time to put on your big person pants and be an adult. “Yeah, thanks.” Handing Hanbin off is pretty easy, the man completely unbothered that he’s thrown two of his protégés for a loop (he’ll probably feel a lot worse about it tomorrow, especially when he’s hungover). What’s less easy, is being left with Gunwook.

“Well, since Hanbin aired everything out…”

“Right, yeah. We should talk, maybe outside?”

Gunwook nods, leading the way to the back door, you follow closely behind him. As not to lose him in the clusters of people, and maybe just because you want to, you grab onto his arm.

Outside, your eardrums thank you for finally getting out of there, though your nervous heart is another story, rattling against your ribcage incessantly. Warily, you avoid looking at Gunwook, distancing yourself a good few feet away from him, “So…”

“I like you,” Gunwook blurts as if he won’t get another chance to say so, “like a lot. I initially joined the team ‘cause of you actually, I hadn’t even danced since middle school. But you were so—watching you on stage at orientation felt so… enchanting.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at Gunwook’s flattery, and he only continues, “I thought you were perfect, so obviously I immediately signed up for the dance team, even though I wasn’t even sure if I was any good at it anymore, just so I could have an excuse to see you. Only for me to never gain the courage to even talk to you…” Staring at the wooden planks of the porch beneath your feet, you see Gunwook’s beaten-up Converse come into view, urging you to look up again.

“Gunwook, I—”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel anything like that for me, I just can’t let the what-ifs get in the way of me trying anymore.” Oh, how could you not feel something for him? Surely anyone could fall for him just by staring into his pretty brown eyes.

The weird feeling in your gut, which must be those butterflies people talk about, amplifies, you think you’d have to be a fool if you didn’t feel something for Gunwook Park. “I don’t… not feel something,” you hastily avert your gaze, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what it is, but I am interested in you. I, um, would be open to exploring that.”

“I understand—wait, you… really?”

You look up in time to see the overjoyed grin split Gunwook’s lips. It’s infectious, you can’t help but mirror his smile, laugh tumbling past your lips, “Yes, you dork. You better sweep me off my feet.” You playfully shove at his shoulder.

“I will,” Gunwook grabs your wrist before you drop your arm, thumbing at the inside of it, “are you free tomorrow?”

“I…” You aren’t free, remember that pesky essay of yours? “Yeah, I am.” Oh, well, you suppose it can wait; likely until tomorrow night, when you finally open your laptop at eleven-thirty at night, when it happens to be due at midnight. You happen to work great under pressure!

“Perfect, can I pick you up at your place at two?”

“Sure, are you gonna remember to ask for my number this time, though?” You tease, making a ‘give me’ motion with your free hand.

Gunwook’s cheeks somehow get pinker, as he finally lets go of your wrist and retrieves his phone from his pocket, handing it over with the new contact screen open. Quickly, you type in your number and then your name, cheekily adding a heart beside it.

“Can I walk you home? Or, uh, if you wanted to go back to the party, that’s fine too…”

“Nah,” you’d rather do just about anything else than go back into that mess, you’ve had enough parties for the rest of your college life, “I’m pretty tired, and I have a super important date with a great guy tomorrow.”

With a coy smile to match Gunwook’s shy one, you cozy up to his side and link arms with him, “Let’s go?”

You’d still consider dancing to be a great way to unwind—still one of your favorites, it's just been demoted to second place.

Nothing ebbs away your stress like Gunwook popping into your room with your favorite food after you’ve been staring at your laptop screen for hours as if you were hoping your assignments would finish themselves. Or his hugs—always so warm, it’s like hugging an oversized stuffed bear. Or just… him.

Unrivaled after several years, dancing has finally met its match: Gunwook Park.

117 notes · View notes

neteyamslovrr · 1 year

Note

heyhey its billie anon, i was thinking whether you could make an aonung fic based on her song "halley's comet" !! incase you havent heard it or since you dont listen to her anymore, here's an idea: reader is a metkayina and is betrothed to another random metkayina as she is one of the best healers of the clan and accidentally falls inlove with aonung, she knows it's wrong but she just cant help but cut off the betrothal infront of her parents and the other metkayina's family. ronal and tonowari hear ab this incident and 100% understand that love cannot be controlled by one (maybe from experience, ronal/tonowari maybe had a similar incident like reader) and reasons with reader's parents. you can write the rest if you want!! (also, i wld LIVE to see a small little epilogue if you could..?) (this was the lil idea i had!)

I NEED HIM NOT YOU

summary: betrothed to another you knew it was wrong to fall in love with ao'nung, but you can't help it because it feels so right.

───͙⊱••✩••̩̩͙⊰•───

Betrothed since infancy. A curse it was. To be spoken for before you could speak. It was a curse.

Iye, your promise. Iye, the innocent who longed for you. Iye, the man who you were chosen to be with. Ao’nung, the chief’s son who kissed you goodnight daily. Ao’nung, the lover who you longed for. Ao’nung the man you were destined to be with.

His kisses were addicting, his touches were exhilarating, his words were mesmerizing. His love was wrong. Your love was wrong. So why did it feel so right. When his hands trail down your body, when he recites his love to you, when he brings you small gifts. It felt so right.

“I have dinner with Iye tonight.” His name was like fire to your tongue. It spread and destroyed everything it touched. “My parents want to plan our ceremony, soon.”

Ao’nung had you enclosed in his arms as you laid in a cave far away from the village. A peaceful place to enjoy the serenity. The mention of that man’s name made his hold on you tighten. It had been known you were betrothed, promised, that you were untouchable but that didn’t stop the flutters in his heart when he saw your beauty, when he heard your laugh.

“I am going to call it off.” Ao’nung’s eyes widened, were you about to be his?

“You’ll get in so much trouble flower.”

“I don’t care. I can’t keep laying in your arms every day knowing one day I will have to wake up in the arms of another.”

“Has something happened? This is something reckless I would do, not you.” You chuckled before letting out a sigh indicating something indeed did happen.

“Iye’s mother and my mother were talking. About grandchildren. It repulsed me.” Ao’nung felt repulsed too. The thought of you bearing children that weren’t his. It was his nightmare.

“Fair enough.” His deep chuckle rumbled as you felt the vibrations of his chest on your back. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble. That’s my thing.”

“I could never top you my troublesome mate.” Ao’nung squeezed you tightly kissing the top of your head.

“We should go now…” Ao’nung nodded as you both called your ilu’s.

“Can you promise me something Y/N?”

“What is it?”

“The next time we come here, you’ll truly be mine.”

“I promise.”

Ao’nung promised to wait for you in his marui until the dinner was over. You just hoped this wasn’t going to be a shitshow.

The dinner was awkward. Two families connected by one who accepted their fate and one who longed for another.

Sounds of chewing and knives chopping was the only thing breaking the awkward tension in the room. More so between you and Iye. “Our ceremony will be soon.” Iye tried to break the tension, his shaky voice filling the room. “Mother is planning it, are you excited?.”

“No.” Everyone snapped their head towards to you, disproval dripping off your parents face.

“That’s a very crass joke Y/N.” Iye’s mother chimed in, her high-pitch voice trying to cover up the shock of your behaviour.

“I’m not joking.”

“Y/N! Watch your words.” Your mother had finally spoken. Her tone sharp and her glare sharper.

You mouthed a ‘sorry’ to Iye before you let out a heavy sigh. “I cannot mate with Iye.”

“What. What do you mean?” Your mother spluttered in confusion as everyone else in the room shared concerned looks to each other.

“I love another. I cannot mate with Iye, he is not who I want.” Your voice was firm as your fidgeted with your fingers. Heart beating in your throat as nausea swirled in your stomach.

“Who.” Iye’s mother had now spoken. Eywa, this was harder than you thought it would be. Gulping harshly, you closed your eyes. This would’ve been way easier with Ao’nung by your side.

“I am in love with Ao’nung. He loves me too.” Your mother let out an exasperated gasp as she hit her hands on her thighs standing up.

“This union has been planned for years Y/N! Why have you ditched this union between our two families for the reckless son of the chief? He will get bored of you! He is not Olo’eyktan he is a mere kid.”

“Do not disrespect him in front of me. Keep that to your gossip sessions.” You started to grow hot, fire burning in the pits of your rage. “This union means nothing! It is nothing! I refuse it.”

“I cannot believe this. How long has this been going on? How long have you stayed disloyal to my son?” You rolled your eyes at Iye’s mother.

“I have been in love with Ao’nung for years. He has been with me for every part of my life. And I will be his mate. If you do not agree with that, than you can disagree with your future Olo’eyktan’s choice in Tsa’hik.”

Your mother’s fists were balled as she continued to heave. “Go. Do not come back until you have cleared your mind of that boy. I do not allow it.”

“I don’t give a shit.” You screamed before storming out of your pod.

You should’ve figured that Ao’nung would have been waiting outside. You should’ve known that he wouldn’t stay still waiting while your advocated for your relationship.

“Well! that sounds like it went well.” Ao’nung gave you a small smile before embracing you. “You did so well my flower.”

“That sucked.” You mumbled into his shoulder, you didn’t want to cry but you felt the tears in your eyes starting to build up.

“It sounded like it did. My parents even heard. You yell quite loud.” You broke from his grasp holding onto his biceps.

“Your parents heard?! Ao’nung! Are you in trouble?” You were shocked, you hadn’t even thought about his parents finding out yet.

“I’m not sure. My mother said and I quote. “She is brave, go be brave with her you skxwang.”” You stared at him confused. Did Ronal really say that? “I try not to be confused. I am too happy as you are mine now.”

“I have always been yours Ao’nung. Haven’t I?”

“You have my flower.” He leaned in and gave you a tender kiss. “But let us do one more thing and you will be mine forever.” Your eyes widened as you nodded.

“It has taken us long enough.”

Epilogue

It had been a year since you and Ao’nung had officially mated. Though it took awhile for your parents to come around they figured they were being too pushy and shouldn’t have forced you to mate with anyone. (They were mostly happy you had fallen in love with the next chief.)

The small cave was still your favourite place. Not because it was secluded or away from other. But it was yours. A special place between the two, a place were a love that felt so wrong blossomed into something so right.

“Flower?” Ao’nung asked as you lifted your head from the comfortable place on his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever have dreams of us together? I always did.”

“I did constantly, I hated them.” Ao’nung’s face knotted in confusion.

“Why’s that?”

“Because in every dream I had to wake up to sneaking away to you instead of being with you proudly.” You smiled up at him leaving a soft kiss on his bare chest.

“I see. How about your dreams now.” Ao’nung’s rough hand caressed your face, his powerful gaze sending shivers through you.

“I am living in one.”

───͙⊱••✩••̩̩͙⊰•───

a/n: this could be better but i've been hating everything i write. sorry billie anon if this isn't what you thought but u have put me back onto billie

#aonung x reader #ao'nung x reader #aonung #ao'nung #ao'nung oneshot #aonung imagine #aonung fluff #ao'nung fluff #avatar #avatar the way of water #ao'nungxy/n #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung fic #avatar2 #avatar fanfiction #avatar 2 fanfic #avatar imagines #avatar oneshot

606 notes · View notes

heartbreakgrill · 1 month

Text

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 7; "Stay here, honey."

a/n: tehe hi friends! we havent spoken much so...the tortured poets department was literally written for daisy and oliver, that's all i gotta say. i listened to i can fix him (no really i can) and guilty as sin this entire writing sesh. i missed yall tho! i feel like i havent written in 5ever. anyways enjoy friends :)

“Jesus, just pick it up.”

Oliver squinted his tired eyes at his phone screen. His body was twisted around, his neck arching to try to read the contact name that was flashing across his screen. This was the fourth time they had tried calling him. I was snug against his side, occupying the rest of his strength. I went to move away a bit, just to allow him some room to answer the phone without being contorted like a pretzel.

He felt me tug back from his hold and immediately set the phone back onto his bedside table. The screen was faced up. It was probably just me, me and my stupid naivety- but I was touched that he set it that way. My stupid belief that I meant just as much to him as he did to me made it so. Trust, love. Two feelings I had when I was with him that were now more familiar than the anger and fear I used to be consumed by.

Oliver latched his other hand, now free, around my back. His fingers splayed out around my hip, nose nuzzling into the bare crevice of my neck. I sunk into his body, an anchor sinking into cold, salty sea water.

“Eh, fuck ‘em. They’re just taking time away from me and my flower.”

I snorted at the pet name, though I secretly (not so-secretly) loved. “You’re so cringey sometimes.”

“Cringey?” He reeled his chin back, glaring down at me with those icy hazel eyes. “Girl…”

“Girl!” My mouth widened as the word so easily fell through his lips. I fought against giggles that were winning. “Who are you? Where’s Oliver?”

His laughter was deep, steady, chest rocking beneath my head, “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I’m his twin brother, Isaac. Oliver is on a top secret mission. He said you’ll always be in his heart, but he must go, fulfill his duty as a spy.”

“What the fuck,” I stated, nuzzling my head in bare chest in hopes the escape his jokes. I let out a small sigh as I fed into his humor, “You don’t have to lie to me, Isaac. I know he’s off with his secret girlfriend. Just, if you can speak to him, let him know that I won’t cry over him. I won’t miss him. Besides, his twin brother’s kinda…hot.”

“Secret girlfriend? What are you even talking about?”

Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t trained to read body language. Maybe it would’ve gone over my head if I didn’t know him, the very shell of him, so well. I could have looked past it, could’ve turned it over in my head, blurred the lines, pretended like I didn’t know the way his eyes flickered, disruption taking over his hazel pupils, as he glanced, so minutely, to his cell phone.

And, maybe it was me. Maybe I was really that insecure. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I’d never really learn to trust him, based on the entirety of our situation.

I think Oliver noticed the flicker that tilted at the corners of my lips because his face fell, just a bit. And he rushed to cover it up, “There is no secret girlfriend, darling. I promise you that.”

And he did what he was so subconsciously genius at- he manipulated the situation, moved on from it, by wrapping me up, pressing the tip of his nose to mine, and saying, “You are my one and only, Daisy. The only one I want. Need.”

I was stupid, like I always was, and kissed him.

We continued on that morning, laying around like we always did, in the early hours of the dawn, long before anyone would wake up. They had a show later, but Oliver didn’t care about getting rest. He wanted- needed, he claimed- to be with me. I guess his idea of resting involved fucking me and kissing me and feeding me with his ownership.

He always asked the strangest questions, always reminiscent of that first night on the roof. He asked like he was trying to memorize the nocks on my bones, prophesied my future in a romantically dramatic way. It was usually when we were laying around like this, silence comfortable in our breaths.

Today’s was formed as more of a statement, curious intonation, “Tell me more about your mom.”

It took me by surprise, like he almost always did. It forced me to slow my own thoughts for a moment, articulate my memories, and find delicate words. Mostly, I wondered, “Why do you wanna know that?’’

Oliver was forced to think now, but he didn’t have much of a response, “I don’t know. I was just…wondering, I guess. I mean, you’ve told me your dad’s an ass, but you had to have gotten your beauty somewhere.”

I knew he used that compliment in a much more meaningful way than the surface level allowed it to be understood. So, I blushed, tilted my head, “Well, I could talk for hours about her. Don’t want your ears to bleed.”

“Nonsense, my love. Your voice is music to my ears.”

I nuzzled my nose to his cheek. Then, I mustered up the courage to fight my sadness and began with, “She was…literally everything to me and Sam. She…dad left when I was 5. Sam, 12. Mom was, like…30? I think? So young. She opened up her own flower shop not long before he left. But, it wasn’t nearly enough money for us to live off of. So, we, like, moved into the tiny ass apartment that was above the shop. It smelled like Chinese food because of the restaurant. And, sometimes, that mixed with the flowers. And my allergies are terrible! And, not to mention, mom smoked. So…it was rough. Sam and I shared a room, so we were together more than we should have been. We were…we were so mean to mom. We, like…took out dad’s absence on her, the fact that we had to live in this shitty apartment. Meanwhile, she was just…this ball of light. She’d stay up till 3am, in the shop, blasting Taylor Swift, arranging flowers, writing this silly little poem book she hid beneath her mattress and thought I never found and read. She picked up shifts at the Chinese restaurant literally every day. She never took a day off, not even on holidays. God, she must have been fucking miserable. But…no matter what…she was, just, like…kind. I think…no, nevermind.”

I sniffled and cut my own words off, teary eyes shutting. I didn’t want to be all sappy and emotional in front of Oliver, especially not at this time of day. As I tried to steady my breathing, Oliver’s arms tightened around me.

“Hey,” he swept a hand to my cheek, drawing my eyes to his, “Daisy…keep going. Please.”

“I think Sam really misses her. He…he’d help her out, with chores, making dinner, getting the trash cleaned up when she’d be overwhelmed and forget about it all. And at the time he resented her. But, he was a teenager. He didn’t know any better. But he beats himself up over it. I just…wish he’d be kinder to himself.”

“And what about you?” Oliver whispered once I had let a pregnant pause of silence go.

I looked up at him, struck by the question, like always, “What…about me.” My eyes drifted as my mind wandered, “I…I’d sneak downstairs, far too often, watch her from the doorway while she danced, sang, drank cheap wine, tossed flower petals all around. She’d always catch me. I was a noisy kid. But, she’d never punish me. She’d grab my little hand, drag me into the room with her, play all our favorite Taylor songs.”

Oliver cracked a joke which burst a ray of sunshine through the sadness layering itself overtop the room, “God, now I feel terrible for making fun of you.”

I punched him in the stomach, closed fist splaying out into a gentle palm on his belly. “You should. She meant a lot to me and my mom. I…she’s why Sam got into music. She had this- this beautiful voice. She’d write songs, along with her poems, and record them on this tape player.”

“Where is it now? Back at your apartment?”

“No,” I shook my head, “at hers. We never really cleaned it out. Sam still pays the lease.”

“And the flower shop?”

“A stupid fucking smoothie bar. I was really hoping one of us would take it over, run it, keep her alive. But…it’s just not feasible. Too expensive.” I’d always felt guilty for that- not investing in mom’s memory. I felt like I’d buried her back in my hometown and sealed shut whatever conscious thoughts I had of her in her grave with her rotting body.

It was just too much. She gave us everything and the world failed her, killed her. Every ounce of light that had been in her eyes was completely spoiled by the time the cancer had taken over.

The thought made me shutter. Oliver noticed and brushed a soothing hand through my hairline. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

“No, no,” I tapped his stomach, “we should. I never really…never really mention her to anyone. This is nice.”

Oliver kissed my temple sweetly, “I agree. So, tell me about these late night dance parties you’d have.”

And, so, we spent the next few hours talking about my mom. Her smile, the inky flowers she had wrapped around her elbow, the way she’d let me stand on her toes while we waltzed across the shop.

We talked and talked. I cried and Oliver wiped my tears. He told me he’d give Taylor Swift another try.

And I found myself falling further.

Then, it was suddenly nearing 8am, when I knew for sure my brother’s alarm would be going off. So, we finished quickly with whatever we’d been doing. Then, Oliver helped me get dressed, which took much longer than it should’ve with two people pulling one person’s shirt over her head. It was because he stuck my head through, then dipped his head to my stomach, tracing my abdomen with wet kisses.

I giggled and shrunk away from the ticklish feeling. He laughed and chased me with his strong hands, encasing my hips with his splayed fingers. I tried pushing his touch away, writhing like a worm, but he was able to plant more kisses onto my skin.

Then his phone started ringing again.

Our movements paused. I slowly pulled the shirt the rest of the way down, meeting his eyes as my vision was cleared from that blockage. His hands moved, passively, to his sides. His body language, that distant, distracted look in my eyes burned.

“Oliver,” I accidentally whispered, then, “just answer it.”

He knew. He knew it was a challenge, a probe at the situation. He knew I was testing him. And, if he failed, if he refused to pick up the phone and answer the call, I’d run out.

I think that- losing me, watching me walk away- was just something he could not deal with right now. So, he made up some excuse while slinking over to the phone, “Probably just someone from the label. Or a stupid spam caller. No big deal.”

I was still facing away from him, still small, shrunken in on myself, when I said, to no one but the air, “Please.”

He didn’t hear me. “Hello?”

I turned around to face him, watching the muscles on his face carefully, paying attention to how he reacted to whoever was on the line. After a moment, he pressed the speaker button, and held the screen towards my vision.

“Spam,” Oliver scrunched his nose as he hung up.

Intuition, maybe jealousy, nibbled at my skin like some flesh-eating piranha. I gave one shake of my head, easily falling back into the casual, comfortable air that was routine between us. I smiled, a joke on my lips to push us past the awkwardness, “So, what kind of top secret mission is Oliver on? Drugs? Or…war?”

“Oh, all of the above!” He dramatically replied.

“Well, you tell Oliver that I need to be getting back to my own bed,” I tapped his chest, awaiting him to let his arms loose.

But, he squeezed tighter, even wrapping his occupied hand around me, “No! Please! Stay!”

“Won’t you ever get tired of me taking up space in your bed?” I giggled at his hair, tickling my neck.

He hummed a rejection, “Never. This is, like, our own secret sanctuary. Here, in this room, we can be whoever we want.”

I focused on his eyes, touching my nose to his. Then, he kissed me before mindlessly reaching behind himself to set his phone back up.

Face down.

I felt like throwing up.

The feeling was worse when I was alone, leaving his apartment like I had just signed an NDA. I tried my hardest not to overthink things, but considering our precarious relationship, this was a very difficult thing to do.

Somewhat luckily, Oliver had been normal the rest of our time together, easy-going, non-suspicious. That’s how someone who didn’t have a secret girlfriend should act. So, why couldn’t I be satisfied with that?

(Why did he place his phone face down? Why had the look in his eyes told me something different, something worse-?)

It would have made so much sense to find out that he did, in fact, have a girlfriend. After all, he’d been telling me all summer how unavailable he was. This would make so much more sense than the mindless, kind of shitty excuses he had for not being able to commit to me. Was it, then, my fault for getting involved with him? For fucking a taken man? Perhaps I’d pushed myself onto him, forcing the situation. No, no, it couldn’t have been. After all, he’d sought me out numerous times.

And, if this were the case, I was supposed to then end things? As soon as possible? Find her social media, send a fucking hey girly text message, throw myself off of a bridge in the process?

The way he kissed me when I left, the way he whispered, “I’ll miss you. You should come to the show tonight. My shining star. You’d make it all worth it. Until then, beautiful,” against my cheek, his eyelashes fluttering against my skin- there was no way I was the side piece. He was too invested in me.

Maybe she wasn’t real. Maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend. No, really- he just couldn’t have a girlfriend. It felt impossible. He was too…too caring, too gentle with me. He treated me so delicately it…just-

“Shit! Sorry!”

I had not been watching where I was going once I left Oliver’s room, which was extremely irresponsible of me. Anyone of our friends, my brother for Christ’s sake, could be walking these halls, on their way to visit the very person’s I’d just vacated. It was worse this week because Oliver’s room was on a different floor than everyone else’s. I had no way of excusing myself if I was caught up here. All I could do was be careful and hide when I heard someone familiar.

Yet, again- I was fucking stupid. I was careless. Mindless.

And I had run right into Adam.

“Daisy!” He looked up from his phone, still safe in his clutches because I’d only knocked into his left shoulder. “Shit, sorry. I’m a clutz.”

I forced out a chuckle, trying to seem chill, like I hadn’t just been having sex- 3 times- by his best friend, boss, lead singer of his band, my brother’s best friend.

“Oh, hey, Adam! No worries! I have plenty of bruises to prove I’m even more of a mess. What’re you up to?”

If I could gain control over the situation, be the one to ask the questions first, maybe then I could worm my way out of it without being exposed.

Then, a distant, deadly memory blared through my skull like a freight train. Last week, backstage. Adam, telling me where Oliver was, encouraging me to go to him. A knowing smile.

Fuck. This hole was deeper than I could ever crawl out of. Maybe he- maybe…maybe. Maybe he forgot-

“Daz…” he knew. He knew. Adam knew. He tilted his head, flicked his brows, gave a smile that suggested I just give up the facade already.

Before he could go on, I interrupted him, “Listen- just…please, just…no lectures, okay? I can handle myself. I know you guys all think Oliver’s this, like, bad person. But, he’s not. And, like- even if he is, I can handle it. I got it. I don’t need to be told what to do or warned or treated like a child. I- Oliver’s…it’s, just…you guys don’t know, okay? We have…I know it seems, like shitty, to you, probably. But…it’s really good. We have fun and, and we like each other…and that’s all that matters. Your opinions don't matter.”

As I went on, Adam’s face contorted into one of confusion, shock. Like he wasn’t computing the information I was messily throwing his way. “Daz, I…are you guys not just hooking up? I thought- I thought you were just fucking?” He let out a breathy chuckle, one of slight uncomfortability.

“It’s…yeah, like…I can see why you might think that, but…we have feelings for each other. And we’re not together or anything, but…we’re…we’re working on it.” For insisting that I didn’t want to be lectured like a child, I sure was speaking like one, shrinking in on myself, fiddling with my fingers all shy.

“So, please,” I held my hands up all defensive, like he’d lurch forward and attack me or something.

But, Adam simply sighed. He pocketed his phone, crossed his arms, eyeing me like some art exhibit. I didn’t know what he was going to say and, based on the silence he gave me, I didn’t really want to. He was calculating his response. He was probably going to fucking lecture me.

“Daisy, I…” aaand, here we go. It was me and Max in the elevator, all over again. It was Sasha, across from me at the breakfast table.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. That’s just not my place, no matter how much you mean to all of us, how much I think of you like, fuck, like a little sister. You are an adult. You can make your own decisions, dude.”

I breathed out the air I was holding. It was a relief, a sentiment I needed to hear. I didn’t care if I was being stupid- I just wished people would listen to me for once and let me do what I wanted.

“But.”

I shut my eyes, a bit tighter, longer than a blink took, in an attempt to ground the anger that was growing in my fingertips. “But, what?” My words were short, scornful.

“But,” Adam sighed again, “I just want you to be happy. I’ve watched you, all summer, try to prove yourself. To Sasha, to Max, to me. To your brother, especially. And, worst of all, Oliver.”

“It makes me so disappointed to see somebody like you have such little self worth. To see you dilute yourself for others. You are…so kind. So beautiful. So pointed and smart and sure of yourself. But, you hate it. You hate that you’re like that. You want to turn yourself into some version of you that just doesn’t fit. Some girl who’s edgy, some girl who’s laid back and doesn’t care what happens. That’s just not you, Daisy. You are intense. And that’s good! You’re passionate, you know what you want. You just…you need to believe you’re worth those wants. Stop doubting your abilities to make it happen. Stop doubting that you deserve it. Just grab it.”

I hadn’t expected to be so humbled. His words were…truer than any cheesy line any therapist had sold to me for $200. It knocked the wind out of me, forcing me to take a step back, literally. I guarded myself from the rush of the tornado, an arm wrapped over my stomach, one nervously rubbing my neck.

What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?

“I’m…sorry,” I whispered in response. It was all I could think to say.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” Adam touched my shoulder, “say it to yourself. You deserve the entire world. And I hope you accept that soon. This shit with Oliver will suck the life out of you.”

All I could think to do next was toss my arms around his shoulders, clutching him to my body like a warm blanket. He hugged me back, just as tight.

After only a few moments, we pulled apart. Neither of us said anything else. Adam simply touched my head, lovingly offering me this brotherly smile, before continuing his way down the hall.

I finally made my way to the elevator, one singular thought on my mind: my own self worth.

Adam had been so shockingly correct. I…

I knew it, too. I’d known it this whole time, only making myself and thought smaller in order to make room for Oliver. I couldn’t keep doing that. I needed to prioritize my own worth while loving him.

Loving him.

I needed to…

We couldn’t keep going like this.

I loved him.

And, from the way he held me, kissed me…the lyrical remedies he spoke to me…he loved me.

He loves me.

I’d confront him about this intuitive feeling.

Tonight.

–

“And this one I got when we were in Australia last year. I had this idea of getting ink everytime we hit a new city. But it got kind of expensive. Plus, we’re always so busy now that it’s, like, do I wanna eat or get a tattoo?”

“Get a tattoo, obviously,” Sam scoffed from the couch, a hint of tease within his tone. He scrolled mindlessly on his phone, barely a part of the conversation, just a nuisance, really.

Ronnie met my eyes and rolled her gaze, “Anyways-“

I giggled at the interaction before returning my line of sight to her arm. She pointed upon another piece of art inked onto her skin, diving into the backstory for that specific moment in time. Though it looked, to any passerby, that she was simply splattered with random images, doodles, animals, symbols- there was meaning to each and every piece on her body.

Tonight’s show had been postponed until tomorrow due to the monstrous thunderstorm that knocked out the power on that side of the city. With half the town closed down and plenty of free time now on our hands, Ronnie, Sam, and I found ourselves in our hotel room. We had been laying around for the majority of the afternoon, random topics on our minds.

I was killing time until I could chase Oliver down in his room, make my big stupid love confession.

Having admired Ronnie’s tattoos for a while, I was glad to finally have some extra time to ask her about all of them. It was always nice to get to talk to her, especially this in-depth, about most anything. She was intelligent and, frankly, hilarious.

She finished telling me the story about the horseshoe around her elbow. Then, before she continued down her left arm, she paused, another thought having intruded her concentration, “Daz.”

I tilted my head in recognition of my name, encouraging her to go on. She gave a little grin, like she had some sort of coy idea floating around in her head, “You don’t have any tattoos? Right?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I definitely want some. Honestly, I get a little nervous,” I sheepishly admitted to what was holding me back.

Ronnie’s expression positively grew. I understood, based on the context clues and the way she peered over at me, what she was getting at now.

“Half the city is out of power,” I raised my brows at her. I wasn’t opposed to the idea- I, myself, even had a little smile itching at my lips. I was just…a little scared, to be honest. I hated needles, like any average person did. Plus, the idea of something so permanent on my skin terrified me. What would I even get?

“I know a guy. He’d come to us.”

“I don’t know what I’d get! I can’t do last minute things like this. I’ll regret it forever,” I giggled, though what I was saying was true.

Ronnie sat up, grasping my hands in hers. She clutched on, begging from her knees on the bed beside me, “That’s the best way to get a tattoo. Get something stupid, something you don’t even know if you like, so you can regret it and hate it until you finally decide to love it! Plus, what a memory we’ll make, Daz! We’ve barely gotten to do anything together this summer, yet you’ve become like a sister to me. We have to do it!”

Sam came out of the bathroom, face half-covered in shaving cream, razor dangling between his fingertips. He met my gaze as I turned my head towards him, a relaxed, pleased look on his brows. “Daz…”

“Sam..” I returned his tone, awaiting his criticism, his claims of me being too good-two-shoes to follow through.

His brows rose more, “Daz! Come on! You have to!”

“Sam, really? I thought you of all people would hate this idea! You really think I should do it?” I was shocked, to say the least. Where was his chidness? His disapproval? The daunting argument always between us?

Nowhere to be found. It was like character development, magically morphing itself before my eyes.

“You have to! You said yourself, this summer is supposed to be about letting go, having fun, being dumb. So far, I haven’t seen you let go and be dumb at all. So, you have to check those off your list! What better way to do that than by getting an impulsive tattoo?” He pointed.

If only he knew just how dumb I’d been this entire time.

I think he’d have killed me if he found out even just a shred of the truth.

He was right, anyway. What I thought was letting go, not caring- it wasn’t. And I knew that now. It was exactly what Adam had been telling me.

Oh, well. Sam would soon know the truth, once Oliver and I talked through the relationship. I’d deal with that hill after the mountain.

Everything between me and Oliver was out of my control- yet, I was clutching to the situation with white knuckles.

The idea of a tattoo was a distraction, a shred of proof, to myself, that I could control something. That I could genuinely let go of fate for a moment or two.

Besides, I’d always hear that tattoo therapy was the best kind of way to get through shit.

“Fuck it.”

So, there I sat, still in my pajamas, fuzzy socks on my feet, on the edge of my hotel bed, arm propped up on Ronnie’s friend Frank’s stand he’d brought with him.

I didn’t know what I was getting. Ronnie convinced me to let her pick something out, but I only let her do so if Sam had approved it first. The giddy expression on his face and the squeeze around my shoulders that he gave me signaled that it was a good pick.

My knee was bouncing. Anxiety that I more than expected filtered through my system like a poison. I steadied my breathing, focused on the fidget ring I wore on my left hand. Frank was setting everything up on this collapsible tablet he’d unpacked from this wagon he stepped into the room with. Ronnie and Sam talked his ear off, laughing over old memories they all shared. I didn’t even know my brother knew this guy, but I guess he had this entire life I didn’t know about in the first place.

I kept to myself, fit with the quiet introduction I offered and the stress that bled off of my skin in droplets of sweat.

more pre tattoo shit

“You love it?” Ronnie stood behind me in the mirror,

cutest poolside

“What the fuck!” Max bounded through the door. He had a Sleep Token bucket hat on his hair and I nearly snorted at how goofy it looked on his head.

But, any tease I wanted to prod him with was curbed as he brought his complaints further into the hotel room. He spotted me after looking over the rest of the habitants. His offended expression didn’t lessen, though, like I thought it would once he fell into his usual routine of laughter and flirts. Instead, when he approached me, towering over my lounged sprawl across my bed, he noticed the black ink pooling beneath the dermal-wrap on my forearm. His brows shot up underneath the rim of the bucket hat that I was beginning to grow just a little jealous of.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gotten into the boys’ music ever since the show. But I’d never admit that to any of them. Especially not my brother, who would’ve acted like the snarkiest prick because of his incessant need to be right, even though he was usually quite wrong.

“No fucking way!” Max climbed onto the bed beside me, crawling across the messy sheets by his knees. He stopped beside me and grasped my wrist in his hands.

The pull gently lurched me forward, forcing me to sit up. I dropped my phone to the bed beside me as Max dipped his head low, examining my new tattoo. I giggled at his wonderment.

“You got a tattoo! Without me! What the fuck! Daz, I’m hurt!” Max pouted, meeting my eyes with the puppy dog expression sinking in his brown ones.

Adam, Cyrus, and Oliver had shuffled into the room. The former two latched onto the tattooist’s conversation with my brother and Ronnie. They started bouncing ideas off of him as quick as one could blink. I wondered where they thought they could fit more ink on their already crowded skin.

Meanwhile, Oliver wasn’t being shy with how obvious he was, peering towards Max and I like we were a museum attraction. But, I was probably the only one to notice how his gaze first latched onto Max’s fingers, gripping my arm. Then, he moved his attention to my tattoo, trying to make out its shape from the distant angle at which he stood.

I felt it now, more than ever, since I’d confirmed the feelings in my gut and let them rise to the surface. Just looking at him, I knew it…I loved him so fucking much.

Though Oliver had averted his expression, his point of view, I knew what that first glance had been. I knew that burn in his gaze, the sickening claim in his pupils. Jealousy. So sickly sweet and insecure.

Suddenly self aware, if only because of that strange understanding I had of him, I slipped my hand from Max’s. I pulled my knees in front of my chest which expanded the distance between us. Though the movement was light, Max noticed it like noticed his own breaths.

His words stuttered for a moment, fading away as the proof settled in the room, “How’d you deci- decide….on…” He filtered his look from my face then over his shoulder, at Oliver. I had peered at the latter for a moment too long, a gaze which was easily noticed by my friend.

“On it,” Max’s tone fell off. Oliver didn’t meet his eye, his gaze latched onto my tattoo still. What had been an observational moment for Oliver turned into an avoidance of Max’s confrontation.

I was seeing through the smog now, the rose colored glasses just a bit dimmer than they had been before. And Oliver looked…he looked ashamed. Ashamed that Max was finding out, or ashamed that he had been with me? I would soon find out.

Max glanced back at me. I followed the curves on the sheets with a distanced glaze behind my lids, barren all the same. Then, Max looked to his friend again.

He waited for someone to say something. But neither of us would wave a white flag, nor would we confess to the guilty sin. My plan had been to tell Oliver how I felt, then tell everyone if I needed to.

And I didn’t really want to. Especially not Max. I felt like I’d betrayed his trust.

Max sighed, sitting up a bit straighter. He dropped a gaped, “Oh,” before pulling himself off of the bed, becoming a part of everyone else’s momentum.

My body paused, Oliver and I tangled in the poison ivy on the cream colored wallpaper behind me. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t breath, he didn’t do anything. He just stood there, anxiety bleeding off his healed scars like me.

I hadn’t expected him to jump onto the bed, proclaim his love for me, and tell the judgemental town folk that they just didn’t understand Romeo and Juliet. But, something other than his quiet treason would have been everything to my jittery frame.

I would have appreciated it if he had, at least, told Max to forget about it. If he would have shoveled some excuse off the tip of his tongue, defended me, us, the stupid love affair we thought was getting us somewhere.

But he didn’t.

He just fucking stood there, like he always did.

It made the confidence Id just built up waver a bit.

I was too anxious to really do anything, either. I couldn’t find the nerve to stand on my own two feet, let alone pull Max aside and try to excuse our indiscretions. The room was suffocating as the stress further settled in.

Max knew. Max knew.

He knew.

The cat would tear itself out of the bag any day now if I couldn’t get it under control today.

It was only a matter of a ticking time bomb. When would the seconds run out? When would the explosion shatter my skull?

I thought about running out of the room, tossing myself off the balcony.

But before I could find the strength to get my footing on the carpet of the hotel room floor, someone was saying my name. Someone was dragging me into a conversation, turning the room’s energy onto me and Oliver’s sad, pathetic, bubble of shame, anxiety, and ruthless obsession.

I snapped out of my fragile little frame like the chill girl that I was and answered the question Sam had asked;

“Do you remember mom’s joke? About the flowers?”

I rubbed my dried lips together until they morphed easily into a sweet smile. The anxiety was pushed back down, like it always was, as I played my old, now forgotten role, “Which one? She had that book behind the counter. She harassed customers with it. Said she’d been a comedian in an alternate timeline, but I don’t think so.”

Sam rolled his eyes gleefully. The room shared a laugh at the thought of some eclectic woman, chasing customers out of her flower shop with a thrifted joke book before her eyes. I remember one time she tripped over a pot and nearly fell onto the concrete floor, already sprinkled with petals and cut-off flower stems. She caught herself, but fell to her knees with laughter. Sam rolled his eyes from behind the counter, where he’d been doing homework.

But, I could see myself, 10, braided plaits in my hair, scurrying over from my seat at the window. I abandoned my book, something I never did, to bask in my mom’s joyous laughter, something I missed more than air these days.

I wonder what Oliver thought of this story, now knowing what he knew. I wanted to look for him, for a smile. But I kept staring straight, at my brother.

“I know, but it was, like- it was the one about the photos and the camera. Something, like…” he racked his brain, concentration on his blond brows. “Helping..plants?”

“Helping the plant photosynthesize!” I straightened up as the punchline lurched from the depths of my memories.

Sam and I laughed, louder than the others possibly could, as we shared a sacred vision, as blurry as my eyes, as fleeting as the smell of our mom’s perfume. She loved that joke.

I could do with a little bit of her humor, now more than ever.

The things she’d say, if she could see me now…

Regardless, I think she’d have liked Oliver.

“Well, don’t bother telling the joke,” Ronnie snickered, patting Sam’s shoulder.

I noticed the intensity of his bone, from just the longer of her fingers on his clothed-skin. But he easily hid that before it became obvious. I recognized that flinch…But my brain was too busy to really memorize the interaction, let alone evaluate it.

“You spoiled it!” Ronnie drew another laugh from the crowd.

The joking continued, though the topic moved away from our mom. My thoughts lingered on her, as Adam moved to the tattoo station, the artist having found a spare spot on his shoulder to put some symbol I couldn’t make out.

My attention turned to my arm, to the burning ink settling its way into the layers of my derma. Two thin flowers, stems rooted in nothing but my pink skin, no soil in sight, just the garden of my body. The petals shaped out the delicate curve of the pair of daisies, my mom’s initials written out to the left of the small bouquet.

I looked up when I felt someone’s gaze on my face. It was Sam, watching me admiring my tattoo with this awestruck way that only a brother who loved his sister could appear.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt the urge to break the distance between us. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tightly against me. He didn’t hesitate to embrace me, even tighter. When he pulled apart, he pressed a kiss to my hairline.

“I love you, Sam ham.”

He punched my shoulder.

I was so scared to tell him about Oliver, though I was now realizing it would have to happen eventually. Adam’s advice- unsolicited, sure- had given me so much clarity. I was running, so much, so far, on broken ankles. Running from the truth, from myself.

I couldn’t anymore.

I went to say something else, but a phone started ringing in the room somewhere. It wouldn’t have been too halting if, when I passively looked over my shoulder, it hadn’t been Oliver’s cell.

He tugged it from his pocket, curiously reading the contact across the screen. As always, he denied the call and stuck it back in his pocket. He’d told me before that he thought it rude to answer it in front of others. Yet, as soon as he put it away, it began ringing again.

He went to deny it, again, when Cy called out a tease from his seat on the couch. “Dude, just go outside and answer it. Could be someone important.”

“It’s not,” Oliver muttered, denying it.

It was ringing. Again.

“Your mom?” Sam inquired, brows furrowed.

I knew Oliver’s mom didn’t call often, a small detail he’d told me once in a fleeting conversation about his family, a set of people he didn’t really identify himself with if only because of the distance between them all.

So, when she did call, he’d always take it. Couldn’t be her, but I couldn’t vocalize this knowledge.

Oliver shook his head, confirming my suspicion. Everyone else that I knew he spoke to was in this room.

Spam, probably.

Oliver denied the call. It was ringing before he could hide it away, shut it off, hell- throw it out the window.

Oliver huffed, loudly. Sam snickered, then, a knowing chuckle that told me he knew something I didn’t.

“Ooo,” Sam took a few steps towards his friend, who was still seated on the couch. He peered over Oliver’s shoulder, who quickly hid the phone. “That tells me all I need to know.”

“Shut up, dude,” Oliver’s eyes rolled over mine, shortly, quickly, ashamedly.

This was, really, where things did start to fall apart, if I had to pick a singular moment in time and stamp it.

This was it. The end of it all. My demise.

Our fate finally crawling from our throats.

Where I thought I had control, where I thought I knew exactly how to handle the situation, cure our disease…

There were cells multiplying beneath our pale skin.

Max, sat on the couch now, stood to his feet with a sense of urgency. He met my eyes as I glanced at him, right before things clicked in my head, right before Sam opened his mouth. It was like he could see the future, his intuition screeching like a siren. Once the bomb dropped, I noticed the panic in Max’s eyes and looked back to my brother, towards Oliver, who gazed at me again, as fleeting as that final look was.

“Ah, it’s your little girlfriend. Knew you two would get back together. How is Fiona these days? Still annoying as ever?” Sam seemed amused by the moment.

He was so unaware of the drama layered just underneath the careless air he easily existed in, so unaware of the panic in my body as I fled from the room. I made no attempt to make myself seem casual or fucking chill.

Max didn’t hesitate to follow me. He was on my heels, hot as the summer air just outside of the windows.

But, I ignored him as he called out my name.

The air in my lungs was burning, like I was going up in flames from the inside out. Maybe it was that pain, or maybe it was the choking tears flooding down my cheeks, but- my vision was blurring. I was dizzy. Short-lived muscle memory is the only thing that got me to the elevator doors. But, I couldn’t find the button. I slammed my fingers against the wall, only feeling the dry scratch of the decorative paper beneath my prints.

My lips wobbled like a child’s, blubbers that were supposed to be sobs flustering out from my tongue. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?” I whispered to myself, pointer finger numb from how harshly I was jabbing the wall.

My harbors had gone up in flames. I was floating in deep, deathly waters with nowhere to anchor. Until- Max’s voice finally caught up with me. One gentle hand on the dip of my back, one carefully wrapping its fingers around my wrist.

I couldn’t resist, not that I really wanted to, as his towering, homely frame took me in, cradled me like the child I needed to be in this moment.

The elevator finally beeped, the doors opening like another set of warm, homely arms. Max guided us inside and peeled one of his hands away from me to press the button for the second floor.

I half-expected Oliver to chase us down, to lodge his body between the doors, grab me from Max’s arms. I wanted him to chase me out into the rain, flag down a taxi, meet me at the airport like some cheesy rom-com scene.

But, he didn’t.

In fact, he didn’t say anything to me for three whole fucking days.

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token smut #sleep token x you #vessel x you #vessel sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token fanfic #sleep token iii

78 notes · View notes