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synopsis: Na Jaemin is annoying as fuck, clingy, needy, nosy, loud, the walking nightmare of campus and definitely someone you wouldn't normally associate yourself with. You could call him every adjective under the sun, and still, it wouldn't be enough to get him off your back. But his eyes are so pretty, his lashes so long, and somewhere along the way of being forced to show him the ropes of bartending, ignoring him is not an option anymore.Â
pairing: student!Jaemin x student fem! readerÂ
genre: strangers to coworkers to lovers? university!au, fluff, crack, smut!!, eventual angst (in pt2)Â Â
word count: 28k+Â
warnings: so much slow burn ahhhh, blatant flirting, terrible jokes, jaemin is obsessed and a lil tapped in the head but what's new, a lot of inner thoughts and confusion, forced proximity, worries about the future, sexual shame/guilt, oc is a very self-aware meanie who likes to torture jaemin :( but i like her so you should too, fuck buddy chenle (and i oop-), alcohol, smoking, brief mention of menstruation and blood, there's like one argument but it's not angsty, pet names: partner/wiggles or wigs (hers), jaem/loser (his), mdni +18: smooching with lots of tongue, brief penetrative sex (not with each other), voyeurism (jaemin's a perv sozz), manhandling, oral sex (both receiving), clitorical stimulation, fingering, forced orgasm, jaem jerks it <3, spitting, a lil choking, cum play (they're both for the streets), the piss story returns (iykyk), strong language blah blah blah⌠also jaemin isn't necessarily blonde in this, i just love that pic heh :)
The queue outside is longer than Jaemin expected. It curls down the pavement in a slow, restless line â people shifting from foot to foot, laughing too loudly, complaining about the cold like they didnât choose to stand in it. The bass from inside leaks through the walls every time the door opens, warm light spilling onto the street for a second before snapping shut again.
Jaemin stands somewhere in the middle of it all, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, barely bothered.
Haechan is already annoyed. Jeno is quieter, standing close enough to his girlfriend that they might as well merge into one at this point. Jaemin glances at them once, then forward again.
Start of spring energy. Everyone trying to squeeze something out of the night before everything resets into exams and exhaustion. The line inches forward. Warm air hits in waves whenever the door opens. Music follows it â heavy, messy, familiar.
Then when Jaeminâs in, noise swallows everything. Every corner is packed. Full tables, standing clusters, people leaning into each other and still shouting. The bar is already packed, orders shouted over each other, glasses clinking nonstop.
Jaemin steps further inside and blinks once, already knowing who to look for.
Same girl heâs been obsessing over for god knows how long.
Heâs seen you plenty of times. Sometimes with Jisung, sometimes not. Sometimes in the library, others in the social studies building. Mostly he sees you here. Always behind the bar, barely smiling at customers. Always half-elsewhere even when youâre physically there.
He never fails to notice you for some reason. Never able to look away as fast as heâd like. First your posture. Not slouched exactly, but weighted, or bored. Like your body has learned how to keep functioning even when youâre past your limit.
Then your hands. Short nails. Practical length. Old polish chipped at the edges, like you painted them on a day you had energy and havenât had another day like it since. You donât even seem aware of it. Or maybe you just donât care.
Your fingers move fast anyway â pouring, counting, sliding drinks across the bar without hesitation. Not a single wasted motion as you laugh at something one of your colleagues whispers in your ear.
Then his eyes glance at your arm when you reach up for a wine glass. The small tattoo sits on the inside of your forearm â simple, dark ink. Not decorative in the way people show off. More like something chosen for yourself, placed somewhere only visible when you move a certain way.
An outline of a tiny daffodil that disappears again when your sleeve falls back.
Then your face. Makeup that was probably neat earlier in the day, now slightly worn down at the edges. A faint smudge near your eye, like youâve wiped sweat or pushed hair away too many times without thinking.
Jaeminâs mouth tilts before he realises it. Why are you always so nice to look at yet so difficult to approach?
âJaem, this roundâs on you, right?â Haechan says beside him.
âYeah,â He answers carelessly, already stepping forward.
He slips into a free space at the bar before anyone else can, close enough that he doesnât need to raise his voice.
You still donât look up.
âHey,â He tries, already feeling like an idiot.
You glance up. Thereâs a flicker of recognition and his mind already thinks youâve tagged him as someone familiar from somewhere mildly annoying. Then your expression resets into something neutral.Â
âHi,â You greet, with a nod and something could resemble a smile if you didnât look devastatingly bored. âWhat can I get you?â
Jaemin leans lightly on the bar. âFour beers, please.â
âWhat kind?â Youâre already reaching for a pint glass.
He watches your hands again. âWhateverâs quick.â
You nod once, without further comment. Turn. Pour. Move. And Jaemin instantly thinks, damn, your manager must love you.
Behind him, Jeno laughs at something Haechan says. But Jaemin couldnât be less curious. Heâs still too busy watching you.
The full drinks land in front of him one after the other before he has enough time to admire you as much as he'd like.
âCash or card?â You ask, reaching for the card machine on autopilot, like you already know his response.
âCard,â He says, tapping it. And before he can speak again or thank you, youâve already migrated to the next customer, the dismissal so disappointingly quick it feels like a punch in the gut.
You work fast. Faster than most people in a place like this could reasonably manage. But thereâs no flourish to it. Just survival through repetition. Someone calls your name and you respond immediately without looking away from what youâre doing, no distraction allowed to get in your way. And Jaemin internally pictures his compromised attention span laughing at him.
When you come back down the bar, he does something he never really had the intention of doing doing with you. He acts on instinct.
âY/N, right?â He speaks a little too loud, miscalculating the decibels of the music, and immediately wishes he could ascend out of his body and slap himself. Maybe you'll do it for him instead.
You look at him a fraction of a second longer than before. Thereâs a faint twitch of your eyebrow, fatigue pressing closer to irritation, but still contained under professionalism. âSomething wrong with your drinks?â
âYouâre Jisungâs friend?â He doesnât think heâs ever sounded this lame before.
Your eyes narrow slightly as you study him again. ââŚyeah,â you say. âWhy?â
âIâve seen you with him,â Jaemin says, his own voice irritating him already. âAround campus.â
Great, now he sounds like a stalker.
Something in your expression adjusts - subtle recalibration. Like youâre placing him properly now instead of just acknowledging him.
âRight,â You reaffirm. âYouâreâŚ?â
Do you really not remember him? He's introduced himself to you at least three times in the last few months. You've been to his house parties for crying out loud. And you still can't remember his name?
âJaemin.â He smiles a little, hoping he looks a lot calmer than he feels. âI live with Ji.â
A small breath leaves you. Almost a laugh, but you donât give it all the way.
âOkay,â You nod, like that settles it and you're in a rush to move on. âAnything else?â
There it is. The politeness. So fake that he wonders what youâd sound like if you screamed at him in anger.
Jaemin leans slightly against the bar, gaze drifting briefly past you and lands on the sign behind you heâs never seen before.
HELP WANTED
He nods toward it. âDoes that still stand?â
You follow his gaze, then look back at him like you already know where this is going. âThat I know of, yes.â
âAnd youâre hiring just anyone?â
You offer an indifferent shrug. âIf theyâre competent.â
âSlightly low bar, no?â
You huff a dismissive laugh, eyes rolling a little. âYouâd be surprised.â
He studies you for a second longer. Your exhaustion is so evident, yet youâre holding this whole place together without letting it touch you more than necessary.
âYou think I could apply?â A genuine question. The man studies biology, doesnât know anything about bar tending.
âHonestly?â You say carefully, still polite, but focused on writing something on a small notepad in front of you. âGo for it, but youâd probably quit after one shift if youâve never worked at a student bar before.â
Jaemin tilts his head slightly. Youâre not judging him. You just donât care whether youâre right or wrong. He still feels like you indirectly called him inexperienced, though.
âAlright,â he says. âSay I did apply.â
âYouâd need to talk to the manager.â Again, so disinterested.
âAny warnings?â
You blink at him once. âAbout what?â
He gestures vaguely around him. âThe job?â
You halt for just a second, then get back to pouring. âNo, not really.â Then you shake your head. âYou get what you see.â
And youâve already moved to the other side of the bar, shouting about something he canât quite decipher over the music. Maybe a missing cocktail pitcher?
A quiet laugh of disbelief slips out before he mumbles to himself. âFair enough.â
âWell done.â Haechan drags him out of his thoughts as he grabs two of the four drinks. âYou actually spoke to her and didnât faint.â
âI was close.â Jaemin picks up the remaining two drinks and hesitantly retreats with a last glance towards you. He scans the crowd to find Jeno and his girlfriend have already secured a table in the furthest corner of the crowded space. Too far from the bar. At least for his liking.
Itâs colder than you expected, the kind that settles in slowly, creeping through your sleeves, but at least itâs quiet out here and no oneâs calling your name, no oneâs waiting for you to pour their drink or fix something that isnât your fault.
You lean back against the wall, cigarette between your fingers, letting your head rest for a second as you exhale. The noise from inside is muffled now, like itâs happening somewhere far away instead of just behind the door that you barely register opening again.
âOh, hi.â
You glance over. Ugh.
You recognise him immediately â the one who always stares at you. The one you always actively ignore. Tonight you even went so far as pretending not to remember his name. Again. The one and only campus legend, Na Jaemin.
He looks very well put together tonight. Annoyingly so. Hoodie thatâs a little too oversized, hair that looks effortless in a way that definitely isnât, and a smile that comes too easily to be accidental. His teeth are ridiculously perfect.
You look at him for a second, then away again. Youâre too tired to cover up the disinterest now. âHi.â
He doesnât take the hint.
âYou look different out here,â He observes you skeptically.
You take a drag before answering, letting the smoke sit in your lungs for a second longer than necessary. âLess busy.â
He huffs a quiet laugh, even though you made no joke. Is he stupid?
âYou shouldnât smoke,â He nods towards your hand. You can tell heâs in the mood to tease.
You exhale slowly, turning your head just enough. âYou shouldnât drink. I still served you.â
âYouâre not very friendly when youâre off.â
You glance at him briefly. âWeâre not friends.â
Thereâs a glitch behind his eyes, as if he wasnât expecting that to be the end of it. What an odd little fella.
âWe could beââ
âDonât even,â You cut in, immediately. âIâm already bored of this.â
He blinks once in shock, then lets out a very loud, almost crazy laugh. Itâs drawn out on purpose. Like heâs testing how serious you are and deciding not to be.
âIâm sorry.â He pretends to be serious again. âThat was funny.â
You eye him carefully this time. âAre you, like, super bored, orâŚ?â
âNo, not at all.â He responds with a shrug. âDo I need to be bored to talk to you?â
You tilt your head slightly. âNo offence, Iâm really not interested.â
That doesn't seem to do much other than pause him for maybe half a second. Then he nods like heâs processing a new problem.
âOkay,â he says slowly. âSoâŚâ
You straighten slightly, cigarette between your fingers, watching him. This is already getting old. âSo I wouldnât bother if I were you.â
He frowns a little. âWouldnât bother doing what?â
âFlirting, or whatever this qualifies as.â
âHow do you know Iâm flirting?â
Itâs your turn to laugh this time. âThe brick wall knows too. Youâre not slick.â
His pout is too cute for a man his age. âSo itâs not working then?â
Before you can even think of a response, a voice cuts in from behind him, saving you.
âJaemin, hurry up. Iâm going home.â His friend â half-annoyed, half-laughing â clearly has been watching this whole thing and canât be bothered to intervene properly.
Jaemin turns slightly but doesnât move away immediately.
âGive me a sec,â He calls back.
âCan he have your number?â His friend is looking at you now. âHeâs actually not as annoying as he comes across and I would quite like to go cuddle my girlfriend.â
Jaemin glances back at you again in disbelief, like heâs weighing too many options. âIgnore him.â
You snort a laugh, slightly entertained by their weird dynamic. âSo you donât want my number.â
âOh, I do.â He steps back a little, finally starting to retract. âBut you wonât give it to me.â
You donât react.
He nods to himself like heâs collected enough data. âSee? Iâm not that deluded.â Then, just before he fully turns away, he speaks again with a smile too pleased for someone who just got rejected. âMaybe Iâll try some other time.â
You struggle not to smile back. Then you look back at his friend, whoâs still watching the strange interaction with fascination written all over his face.
âI wouldnât,â You say flatly, internally battling whether you mean it or not. Would you want him to try again? He probably wonât anyway. He seems like the type to move on from these kinds of situations a little too easily. Maybe thatâs good.
âOkay, I wonât then.â He just laughs again as he finally walks off. And annoyingly, it doesnât sound like heâs serious at all.
âOh, shitââ Jaemin whispers mid thrust, forcing his brain to tune out Noraâs loud moans. He focuses on his pending climax instead. So close. Right fucking there.
âJaem, baby, cum for me.â She slurs, sounding too fucked out. Is she faking it? Jaemin swears he barely put any effort in making her cum tonight. Heâs too distracted.
He buries his face in her neck, eyes clenching shut, ears blocking out her sounds, hips delivering sharp thrusts, still chasing a high that seems unreachable. The way she strokes his hair â gentle, sweet â seems to be working, and he thanks the universe that his dick finally gives up being stubborn. Not too long after, he finally releases in the condom with a defeated sigh.
Itâs when Noraâs in the bathroom and heâs managed to regulate his breathing, that Jaemin finds himself in deep thought.
It wasnât really her voice, or touch that pushed him over the edge, but his filthy imagination. Because for the first time in forever, Jaemin thought of someone else when he reached his high. His mind didnât go blank. Noraâs naked body got replaced by the scandalous thought of you his brain chose to produce. You being in her spot. Under him, moaning a lot gentler than her, not faking anything, writhing in overstimulation but also begging him for more.
And for the first time in a long while, shame creeps in.
Not because heâs disrespected Nora. What she doesnât know wonât hurt her. But because he barely knows you. Yet somehow, youâve managed to lodge yourself in his head so deeply that his brain fills in the blanks without permission. Is this normal? Or is his conscience finally deciding to torture him?
Youâre younger than him, he knows that much. If youâre Jisungâs age, youâre definitely two years below, which makes you a second-year student. And what business does he have entertaining thoughts about a girl at such a different stage of life?
Two years isnât much. Not really. But it feels like more when he remembers who he was at that age - confused, broke, permanently overwhelmed. And he still is all of those things, but not for much longer hopefully. Youâre probably still navigating uni life like a tourist in foreign land, meanwhile, heâs supposed to graduate in less than five months. To get out in the real world and get one of those big job things that everyone strives for. And Jaeminâs sure that if you were older than him, he wouldnât even hesitate. But youâre not. And for some reason he cares.
Though, he will admit you did seem to have your wits about you. You have a job. You probably pay your own bills. You're responsible in ways he definitely isn't.
Maybe he really should apply for that vacancy. He'd been joking earlier, but now heâs seriously considering it. Especially after checking the remaining balance in his bank account.
âYou staying?â Noraâs voice jolts him out of his spiral.
âNah.â He offers an apologetic smile. âGot class early tomorrow.â
âYikes.â She settles under the covers with a tired pout. âYou seemed a little out of it tonight.â
Women and their weird intuition.
âSorry.â He rubs the back of his neck. âJust tired, I think.â
She laughs softly. Like sheâs caught the lie. She probably has. âDonât worry, Iâm not judging.â
Jaemin smirks knowingly, staring up at the ceiling. âYouâre always judging.â
âTrue.â The answer comes so quickly it pulls a smile from him.
A second later sheâs yawning into her pillow, and Jaemin takes it as his cue to get out of her space.
âHeard you met Jaemin hyung the other night.â Jisungâs side eyes you as you two walk out of your final class of the day. The expression on his face betrays something you canât quite pinpoint, and you donât quite like that curiosity blooms in your mind.
âYeah, heâs weird.â You opt for indifference.
Jisung chuckles at your disapproving tone. âNice guy, though.â
âAwfully flirty.â
Another short laugh. âYeah, heâs had a thing for you since last year, I think.â
You completely ignore your friendâs useless statement. âWasnât there a rumour going around about him?â
You remember laughing when you heard about it, but then when you rethought the situation, you felt bad for the girl.
âYou meanââ
âThe piss in the eye thing.â You lower your voice as you exit the main building, and you catch Jisungâs lips purse in thought.
âI thinkâŚâ His expression changes into a concerned one. âThe girl he was seeing at the time asked him to try it and then when he ended things, she kind of made the whole eye thing up.â
âReally?â Your head shoots up. âSo he didnât piss on her?â
You already know the answer when Jisung slightly cringes.
âWell, that partâs true.â He clearly struggles to not laugh at his friendâs antics. âHe just didnât get her eye.â
âShit,â You raise your eyebrows in wonderment. âSome people really struggle with rejection I guess.â
âYeah, well, in this caseââ Jisung pauses, like his next revelation could ruin Jaeminâs career. âHe kind of, unknowingly, slept with one of her friends and then ghosted her.â
âUgh, what a prick.â You cringe, all of a sudden supportive of the girlâs pettiness. âAnd youâre friends with this person?â
âI mean, heâs nice to me.â Jisung shrugs, causing you to smile at the fondness he emits. You sometimes wonder why Jisung is still single. Heâs most likely the nicest guy friend you have, always sweet, always polite, always warm. A girlâs dream. Not necessarily yours. But most girls would certainly kill for a boyfriend like him.
âYouâre too sweet for your own good Ji.â
âOh, câmon, itâs not like you havenât fucked people over.â He gives you pointed look, his hand instinctively wrapping around your elbow to halt you from crossing the street as the red light is still on for pedestrians. âYouâve made guys like Jaemin cry in the past.â
Itâs your turn to shrug. âI'm just doing god's work.â
âSpeaking of men,â Jisung tugs at your sleeve as he starts walking, practically dragging you with him, and you always have to hold back a laugh at the silly little habit. âHowâs things with Chenle?â
âMmm, not sure.â You pout in contemplation about the odd situation youâve recently found yourself in. âHeâs hella cute, donât get me wrong, great sex too, but I think thatâs just it.â
âThatâs not necessarily bad, no?â
âNo, itâs ideal, but I think he might be in love.â
âEhâ?â
âChill, not with me.â You reassure Jisung quickly before he jumps to conclusions. âI have a feeling heâs hung up on someone else.â
âOof.â Jisung sympathises with a scrunch of his nose.
âYeah, as amazing as dick can be, it feels a bit weird when the other person can barely look at you, you know?â
The whole ordeal with Chenle started randomly and predictably where most similar situations start. A party. A lot of alcohol involved. A game of truth or dare. A kiss. And then suddenly youâre bent over a bathroom sink getting your back blown out.
He gave you exactly what you were looking for. A distraction. And so you both kept going back. For almost a year now. But the last few months, youâve sensed the change in him. The hesitation before a kiss. The pauses between touches. The way his eyes seem focused somewhere else. You're not hurt by it. The sex is still good. But being cast in the role of someone else's stand-in isn't exactly appealing.
The problem is that ending things with Chenle would mean giving up convenient sex. Which, unfortunately, has become one of the highlights of your increasingly exhausting weeks. And it would likely mean going back to your old pink wand-shaped friend. Not the worst thing in the world, but also not as good as the real deal.
What really is the worst thing in the world is the fact that when you try to think of alternatives, your brain keeps landing on the same person. A person whose lifestyle, reputation, and entire approach to life go against everything you usually stand for.
Yet, you canât help but wonder.
What is it about Na Jaemin that makes people go so feral? Apart from his ridiculously gorgeous face. And hair. And hands. And arms. Okay, yes, heâs insanely attractive. But attractive enough to get away with anything?
Even after that ridiculous rumour started going around, he seemed completely untouched by it, and so did everyone around him. He still drifted through parties like he owned them, collecting attention without even appearing to try, somehow maintaining his âpussy magnetâ status like nothing could ever tarnish it.
His erratic behaviour, paired with the endless stream of people drawn to him, had always felt like a mystery you werenât remotely interested in solving. Until the other night.
One thing youâre sure of is that if his dick game is as weak as his flirting skills, then what a shame.
âWell, hello partner.â The familiar but grating voice penetrates your distracted brain as youâre too busy looking in your bag for your work t-shirt.
âHuh?â
And there he is again, outside your workplace like he belongs. Perfect set of pearly whites on full display, blinding you. He looks like a more of a normal person compared to the other night. Like heâs just heading home after a long day of lectures, his backpack hanging off one shoulder.
Annoying.
âWe must stop meeting like this.â He attempts to joke, letting the door of the main entrance slam shut behind him.
âI work here.â You point out, as though he doesnât already know. âWhy are you here? Weâre not even open yet.â
âWell, as of tomorrow, I work here too.â He says a little too chirpily, like he didnât just drop a bomb on you.
âUmm,â You suspect you must look like a crazy person judging from his amused expression. âNo you donât.â
âIâm afraid I do.â He nods with the cockiest grin sporting his face.
âHowââ
âJust had my interview with Johnny.â He points a thumb behind him. âSo, I guess Iâllââ
âDo you even have bar experience?â You interrupt him a little too abruptly, the tone of your voice carries a surprise to both of you. A little too cold even for you.
His smirk doesnât falter. âWe all start from somewhere.â
âYeah, in your case, rock bottom.â You donât want to offend him. Donât want to give him more of your energy to cling on to. Yet, itâs so difficult not to.
He dares to let a stupid laugh slip. âIâm just so lucky to have you as a mentor then.â
âI ainât teaching you shit.â You scoff, tightening your grip on your bag strap. The nerve of this man.
âWell, I gotta learn somehow.â He pouts.
Fake.
âYouâre welcome to sit in a corner and watch then.â You offer him a sweet smile with absolutely no warmth behind it before moving past him and towards the door. Another long-ass shift awaits.
You can still feel his eyes on you when he speaks again. âIâll happily watch you. Just not sure Iâll learn much.â
Your hand stills on the handle.
The grin threatening your mouth is immediate as you catch the meaning tucked beneath his words. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning around. Instead, you push through the door and disappear inside.
Even then, you can still feel his gaze burning between your shoulder blades.
Jaemin hates working with you. Not because youâre bossy. Not because youâre too fast. Not because you roll your eyes at him every time he makes a mistake. Not because you called him an imbecile earlier. Not because your jaw tenses whenever he flirts with a customer.
But because none of those things make him think about you less. Jaemin leaves every shift either irritated or turned on and definitely a little more obsessed with you.
His eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head each time you insult him. Itâs like he lives to frustrate you nowadays. And he swears he almost let a moan slip when you grabbed him by the back of his collar yesterday as he was pouring what turned out to be a pint of Guinness like he would pour every other pint of lager. You have to let it sit half-way through apparently. Or whatever it was you snarled at him.
After a week of being shouted at and having enjoyed every single second of it, heâs finally starting to get the hang of things. And as much as heâs enjoyed torturing you, he's realised that he needs to lock in if he wants to keep his job. The manager seemed to trust your judgment, so he couldnât really risk it for longer.
He liked the tiny comment of praise you gave him when he successfully closed the till at the end of the shift. But as much as the little ânice oneâ you muttered excited him, nothing comes close to âI could so easily slap you right nowâ.
Yes, Jaemin has long accepted that he might be sick in the head. But he just canât help it when it comes to you and your short temper.
What gets him the most, though, what really makes him weak in the knees, and rewires his brain every single time, is how you shift from mean to kind and back to mean in a matter of seconds. One moment youâre looking at him with eyes that scream murder and the next youâre smiling at a customer and offering water when they seem too intoxicated.
Itâs almost three am when the last few customers slip out tonight. Youâre already on your phone, your back pressed against the bar as you quickly type a response to something that made you almost smile.
âBoyfriend?â He tries, already knowing the answer, but needing to inspect further.
You surprise him by actually giving a somewhat satisfactory answer. âNot really, no.â
He nods, pretending to stay focused on the cleaning task in front of him. âGirlfriend then?â
He canât help but giggle at the way you roll your eyes but still smirk at his nosy but teasing tone.
Jaemin is very much aware of your current situation. Turns out drunk little Jisung canât keep a secret for the life of him. But even if it werenât for his younger housemate, Jaemin has eyes. Heâs seen you at parties, sneaking around with only one guy. A guy he only knows through other friends and Haechanâs girlfriend. He remembers sharing a vape with him once outside a club.
Chenle is someone he could only describe as likeable. He hasnât ever heard a single bad thing about the guy. Always cracking jokes and hosting the best parties out of everyone in the circle of Jaemin's acquaintances. And it goes without saying that heâs insanely hot. As straight as Jaemin is, he can appreciate an attractive man. The younger boyâs cheekbones and jawline could slice him in half. So he canât really blame you.
But he can and he will be secretly jealous.
Especially when his brain keeps taking him back to that night he walked out in the back garden of some strangerâs house for a piss, just because the bathroom was otherwise occupied. He wishes he had walked away the second he realised what was actually happening, but in the midst of his drunken state, Jaemin stalled. And he watched. For longer than he should have.
Because there you were, backed against a concealed corner, just a few feet away from the spot he chose to empty his full bladder, which was quickly forgotten the second he laid eyes on the sight in front of him. Your bent knee resting on Chenleâs hip, uncovered thigh concealing whatever the boyâs hand was doing between your legs.
It was when you broke the kiss with a low whine that Jaemin realised he needed to leave. He still didnât, though. Not for a few seconds longer. Not until he heard you brokenly whisper âThink Iâm gonna cumâ. Thatâs when he bolted. Because it got too real. And as much as Jaemin hates to admit it, he really, truly, genuinely, passionately despised the way you sounded so sweet with another boy. A boy that wasn't him. A boy that couldn't possibly think about you as much as Jaemin does.
And when he got back home that night, Jaemin, shamefully, had the most intense jerking off experience ever. What was shameful about it wasnât just the filthy imagery of you that occupied his sick little mind â mostly scenarios where youâd be on your knees for him â but how your name so easily rolled off his tongue when his load landed on the shower floor. And he couldnât even blame his imagination anymore. Just his memory.
âHey, partner.â Jaeminâs now familiar greeting makes you look up from the drink youâre pouring yourself. Oddly, itâs not as aggravating now youâre not surrounded by kegs of beer and screaming customers.
âHey, loser.â You greet back like you always do, this time a little more lightheartedly. Blame it on the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream. âDonât tell me youâre here to ruin another one of my evenings with your nagging.â
His expected laugh rings through the loud music. Heâs already leaning against the counter next to you as you mix cheap vodka with lemonade. âNah, just spotted you and thought Iâd say hi. Is that allowed?â
You glance over at him, pretending to think about your answer as you briefly take a sip to taste test the drink. âI suppose it is at this point.â
You donât miss his gaze taking in your appearance when you turn around to lean your hip against the counter so you can properly look at him.
He hesitates a little before speaking again, his hand nervously swirling the content of his cup. âAnd what point is that?â
âHmm,â You hold back a grin, enjoying his squirming a little too much. âIâm not sure yet. What point would you want it to be?â
You can practically see the wheels turning in his head before his signature grin appears. âSomething tells me friendship point would be a no-no from your side.â
You canât contain it this time. A chuckle lets loose, making you look away, his wide-eyed reaction a little too overwhelming for you and so is the entirety of his handsome face.
âYeah, I wouldnât go that far.â You say disapprovingly, and his exaggerated groan is less annoying than other nights.
He pauses to take a look at you, expression more serious than youâre used to, and it makes you feel almost shy. Almost.
âWho you here with then?â He breaks the silence with what could pass as the most casual question, but you can sense the hidden meaning behind it.
âMy flatmate, Winter.â You search through the crowd that occupies the living room area and quickly spot her with Ningning and Chenle. âThe blondie over there.â
âAh,â Recognition appears on his features. âYou close with Ning and Chenle too?â
âMm.â You take a sip of your drink as you do your best to show nonchalance. âNot really.â
âPff.â The scoff is difficult to ignore. He knows youâre lying. Of course he does.
âWhat?â You ask as innocently as possible.
âNothing, just didnât take you for a liar.â He challenges with a smirk, his fingers getting your attention as they tap on the counter surface.
âHow am I a liar?â You mirror the tilt of his head with your own.
âI live with Jisung, Y/N.â He steps closer, voice lowering just a tad. âYou probably know things about me you shouldnât know.â
He's not wrong there. You might not be at a friendship point, but thereâs definitely no secrets between you two with Jisung as a mutual friend. That fact doesnât seem to bother you as much as it should, though. Not when all you can really focus on in the moment are Jaeminâs unfairly long eyelashes and his incredibly moisturised lips.
How can a man be this pretty?
âDo you think youâd take off if you blinked too fast?â Your unexpected question seems to baffle him, and to your amusement he expresses his confusion by blinking a little faster than normal.
âOh my god⌠youâre drunk!â He brings a hand to his mouth, gasping dramatically.
You poke him in the chest, making him stumble back a little. âAnd youâre a pretty little girl.â
A shocked laugh erupts from him and before he can speak another word, youâre clumsily walking away. Fuck Na Jaemin and his stupidly flawless face.
Itâs not too long after when youâre dragging Chenle upstairs, in need of a distraction, which proves to be impossible when Jaeminâs gaze finds yours through the crowd like itâs an instinct. You hold eye contact longer than necessary. Longer than youâd normally allow yourself.
You take pride in being a self-aware person. You know your limits and you can tell when youâve crossed them. This is a case of the latter. Because looking into Na Jaeminâs eyes like youâre passing a silent invite while Chenleâs hand is in yours is definitely something that goes beyond your moral boundaries.
And you know what youâre doing when you leave the door ajar behind you as you crash your mouth into Chenleâs. And you definitely know what youâre doing when instead of the bed, you choose to walk back into the desk, where anyone walking past the room could take a peek at. The whole time, youâre perfectly aware of your actions and the repercussions they entail, but youâre also aware of Jaeminâs eyes on you when you bury your face in Chenleâs shoulder.
âFuck, Y/N.â Chenle moans against your neck as he keeps thrusting into you. Hard. His hands harshly squeeze your ass, slightly lifting you off the desk, bouncing you just right, nudging the perfect spot inside you.
You canât help but let your head roll back for a few seconds, allowing the pleasure to consume you. And just when youâre teetering close to the edge of your orgasm, you allow yourself to steal a glance at the door, the little crack allowing you to see the shadow of someone standing there.
You know itâs him.
You know he can see everything clearly, and that thought alone is enough to send you into total bliss.
Jaemin hates you. He does. But most of all he hates himself and how down bad for you he is. He feels pathetic. And extremely turned on.
How dare you eye fuck him that hard when youâre guiding another man into a room clearly with intention of getting dicked down. And how dare you look in his direction while youâre getting railed into next week.
Do you know he's fucking insane?
You canât possibly be able to see him, but he knows you know heâs there. He knows you know heâs watching. And he knows you like it. You invited him after all. Itâs obvious youâre putting on a show for him. And even though heâs well hidden, your gaze keeps trailing towards the door. Itâs filthy. And itâs obscene. And itâs new. Nothing heâs experienced before.
Youâre right there, just a few feet away from him. Again. Getting touched by Chenle. Again. And Jaemin is watching. Again. Only this time, youâre aware of him.
By the time he let his intrigue take over his logic and decided to head upstairs, you're already moaning, thighs spread around the other boyâs waist as he pounds into you. And Jaemin will give it to Chenle. He seems like he knows what heâs doing with you. Like he knows what you need. And when your legs start shaking, Jaemin canât bring himself to look away. He feels hot and flushed, his cheeks burning with shame and arousal, but he needs to keep looking. Needs to see you fall apart, even if itâs on another manâs cock.
And he does exactly that. He watches.
Your mouth hangs open in the cutest way, your expression blissed out, eyes unfocused, hands gripping onto Chenleâs shirt while you cum with the sweetest cry of desperation heâs ever heard.
And Jaeminâs dick is so hard it hurts. But what hurts more is his pride.
Youâve humiliated him without even trying. Just tossed a bait he so willingly grabbed onto like he was deprived and starved. He gave you all the power he could ever give someone. All for you to chew him up and spit him back out. And for him to love every second of it.
The next couple of weeks are, as expected, a torture. Him trying to get the image out of his head and you putting it right back into its wedged place whenever you look at him.
âSo, how's working with Jaem going?â Jisung points his drink toward your coworker, whoâs currently belting out âShe Will Be Lovedâ to the karaoke mic in the middle of the living room, while half the people sitting down are hyping him up and the other half are booing. Except for Haechan whoâs just filming with his phone like a proud mum.
You have to hide your smile behind the rim of your cup. Otherwise, itâs too obvious who the reason behind it is. âAs well as it can go.â
âThat could either be awful or amazing.â
âIâm not telling you shit. You canât keep your mouth shut.â It comes as a joke, but you mean it.
âWhat? Iâve neverââ
âYes, you have.â You chuckle at your friendâs automatically defensive mode.
Jisung rolls his eyes in surrender. âHe asked me!â
âAnd you said âoh, yeah sheâs actually banging Chenleâ?â You take a sideways glance at him but return your attention to Jaemin and his chaotic performance.
âWell...â Jisung pauses to think. âHe already kind of knew. I think he asked Haechan as well.â
âSee? Thatâs what I mean!â You laugh with a shake of your head. âYouâve just thrown your friend under the bus.â
Jisung groans in annoyance. âAs if you donât already know heâs into you.â He points at his housemate again, whoâs now on his knees in front of Haechan finishing the song. âHeâs been following you around like a lost puppy for at least a month now. It's not rocket science.â
You refuse to react to the statement, even though itâs a fact.
âAnd you like it.â Jisung concludes with a teasing grin.
Your tongue reflexively pokes into your cheek to contain another smile.
âJust fuck him.â
âJi!â You whack him on the chest, the out-of-character and vulgar comment shocking you.
âWhat?â Jisung giggles at your reaction, arm coming up as a shield. âHeâs graduating soon, so you might as well get it out the way before itâs too late.â
âOh, do me a favour.â Your dismissal makes Jisungâs eyebrows raise in confusion. âThat man doesnât have the brain cells to pour a drink let alone graduate.â
âHeâs actually on his way to a distinction.â
âHuh?â Your neck almost cramps from snapping your head to look at Jisung only to find his irritating smirk still in place.
âSurprise, he's clever!" Jisung mocks your shocked expression with a gasp. "Spanner in the works, huh?â
You click your teeth in annoyance, returning to your dismissive tone. âNo works so no spanners.â
âLie some more. I'm enjoying this.â
You tune out Jisungâs rant about how âyou always deprive yourself of real connections because youâre scared of trusting menâ and take a meticulous look at Jaemin. Heâs now sat on the sofa while someone else has taken his place on the mic. Itâs something about the way he carefully listens to Jeno and nods that gets your thoughts rolling.
Yes, heâs undeniably handsome. Yes, he can be funny at times. Yes, his light-heartedness is what you look forward to during a rough shift sometimes. But itâs mostly his attention to detail and careful nature that intrigues you. It's how he can always read what mood youâre in without you even having to utter a single word. Itâs how his eyebrows tense and he hums along in understanding when you complain about something random or explain work stuff to him. Itâs how heâs never once fucked up at work, always completing tasks like a pro and even saving your from awkward situations with rude customers. And you realise that through the silliness and endless flirty comments, youâve overlooked qualities that make him so much more desirable than he already looks.
You realise that youâre finally seeing through the persona he very obviously has built as a wall around himself.
And maybe that explains why later in the night, when Jaemin very openly follows your every movement as you walk in the sitting area of the party, you give in.
âSit next to me?â No partner this time, no teasing lilt in his tone, just pure hope as he looks up at you from his spot on the already occupied sofa. Shiny lips parted slightly, eyes wide when you approach him, clearly taken aback by your newfound docility.
Jeno instantly slides further down to make space for you, smiling politely when you squeeze in between the two boys, and you can undoubtedly feel Jaeminâs eyes burning holes into your side profile.
âStop staring.â You mutter with a grin you fail to hold back when you feel him sink back into the cushions again, legs spreading just a little. Just enough for his thigh to press against yours, the heat radiating off his jeans easy to feel on your bare skin.
âWhat you drinking?â He inches a little closer, chin just a few centimetres off your skin as he looks over your shoulder, warm breath littering the expanse of it with goosebumps. You donât think heâs ever been this close before. Or maybe you just havenât noticed.
You lift your cup closer to his face, offering a sip but only throw him a quick sideways glance. âVodka cranberry.â
He takes it after balancing his own cup between his thighs. âYum.â He smacks his lips after a big gulp, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick a stray droplet of translucent pink liquid. âYou know, I read somewhere that if you share your drink with someone, theyâre be able find out all your secrets.â
You snort at the ridiculous and probably made-up fact. âGood thing Iâm an open book.â
âMm,â He taps his index on the rim of your cup heâs still holding. For some reason your eyes keep drifting to his fingers. âThat you are.â You can hear the mischief in his tone and you know what heâs referring to. You both do.
A thick drop of alcohol spills over the edge of your red cup when he passes it back, landing right on your bare thigh. You stare at it. He doesnât apologise. Instead, his thumb brushes away the liquid on your skin before putting it in his mouth. Like it was never there. Goosebumps form instantaneously as you watch his lips in utter shock. The fuck did he just do?
âEveryone has secrets, though.â He brings your attention back to his eyes.
âGo ahead then.â You gesture, as though offering the floor for him to take, choosing to ignore the lewd act of him sucking on the thumb that just touched you. âWhatâs one of mine?â
He narrows his eyes as he thinks carefully, taking in your already judgmental expression. âYou still listen to Paramore.â
A loud, abrupt laugh bubbles in your chest at the random guess. âThatâs no fucking secret.â
âYeah, I just uncovered it.â He gestures with both palms open, like itâs the most obvious thing in the whole world.
âYouâre a clown.â You shake your head.
âOkay okay, I have a better one.â He sits up, straightening his back a little as he turns to face you better. You instinctively mirror him, brain now blocking out the rest of the commotion in the crowded living room. âYou actually like mentoring me.â
Your eyebrows have a mind of their own as they inch closer to your hairline in surprise. âInteresting. Why dâyou think that?â
He extends his arm along the back of the couch, his skin brushing yours, the same shoulder he was breathing on. You watch his mouth form a sceptical pout, eyes more serious than ever. âBecause you enjoy bossing me around.â
âIâm just giving you what you want.â The words slip out before your brain has the chance to filter them, and you suddenly get the urge to slap a hand on your mouth. You donât.
âNice.â He nods in approval, proud smile on full blast. âAnd you havenât even had a sip of my drink.â
âItâs no secret.â
âWhat?â He challenges. You hesitate. He presses. âSay it.â
His expressions are too tempting to finish the conversation here. âThat you like being told what to do.â
He hums ponderingly. âSounds to me like weâreââ
âA match made in heaven?â You humour him for what feels like the first time ever, imitating what he wouldâve sounded like in your brain, whiny and irritating.
He smiles wide, pearly whites blinding you, fingers curling inwards against your shoulder, knuckles lightly tickling you. âDidnât know you were cute like that.â
You tut your tongue at him, eyes rolling in feigned annoyance, all just to let him know that his flirty remarks still fail to affect you. Which has been a big fat lie since that first night you officially met him.
Next time you see Jaemin is not at work, but at the science building cafeteria. Chenle is going on about how happy he is that youâre not awkward with him now that youâve stopped fucking around and how much he appreciates you as a friend. You think itâs funny that heâs so apologetic considering youâre the one who actually initiated the conversation last week. You thought it was about time. Especially after you found him drunk in a bathtub, crying his eyes out. He has a weird habit of getting in bathtubs when heâs at parties, but you know by now itâs just his way of escaping overwhelming crowds. And so you just nod away when he keeps yapping about how grateful he is that youâre so cool and respect his space.
Youâve just devoured a spoonful of rice when you hear it.
âYo yo, partner!â You instantly know who it is, but you still raise your head from your plate, and you wonder if you look like a caricature with your cheeks protruding like youâve been starved for days. Jaemin stands over you, his dumb smile intact like itâs never left since that party. It always makes you wonder what heâs like when heâs serious or upset about something. Is he the vocal or silent treatment type? Is he chill or intense? Or is he the kind that would shut you up and put you in your place? Nevermind.
âOh lord, you got enough rice there?â He mocks, eyes widening to humour you. âYou look like Patrick with a crabby patty.â
He somehow looks even brighter in daylight. Maybe itâs the pink jumper. Maybe itâs his unusually fluffy hair. Or maybe itâs the way he rocks back and forth on his heels like a child desperate for attention. What a sight.
You just blink.
Chenle folds in half laughing and points at you while you force yourself to chew.
âWell, take your time. I donât really need you to speak.â Jaemin hands you a flyer. âI was gonna invite you to this photography exhibition. Youâre both welcome.â
Both? Heâs potentially seen the two of you going at it on a desk, blatantly flirted with you days after, and now is inviting you both to his photography exhibition. Like none of that is remotely weird.
Something stirs in you as you struggle to chew.
Jaemin has made it abundantly clear heâd be in your pants the second you gave him the green light. Yet heâs never been jealous. Never possessive. Never made things uncomfortable. If anything, his interest in you, day by day, seems to be inching closer to something that could only be described as genuine. Not just sexual. Not just competitive.
And your stomach feels weird. Because you like that.
Chenle smiles at the older boy while you still struggle to swallow down your food. âI thought you studied biomed?â
âHobbies are a thing.â Jaemin drags the words teasingly, with no malice detected in his voice.
âWeâll be there.â Chenle agrees cheerfully without sparing you a glance.
âUmmââ
âNice one!â Jaemin claps his hands and walks away before you can get a coherent word out.
âSo, I see Iâve been replaced in no time.â Chenle attempts to joke but of course it doesnât land. Like most of his jokes. Instead, it earns him a cube of mango in the face.
Itâs not that you donât want to go. You certainly do. Youâre curious. But youâre also a tiny bit terrified. Because that invite, as ridiculously casual as it was made out to be, felt somewhat intimate.
And what has put âa spanner in the worksâ, like your dear friend Jisung said the other night, isnât that Jaemin has a creative hobby. Or that heâs intelligent. Or that he doesnât mind being the butt of every joke while half the university spreads ridiculous rumours about him.
Itâs how interesting of a person heâs turning out to be. Not just smooth. Not just confident. But... charismatic.
And thatâs something you would describe as an obstacle. Something disturbing.
Because it renders your efforts to ignore his advances useless.
You could never really wrap your head around the fact that some women so easily go about their day while on their period. Meanwhile, youâre struggling to pour drinks and take card payments due to the agonising pain in your lower back and what could only be described as stabbing in your uterus. The only thing you can do is sip water every five minutes to reward your body for its endurance during this fuckass shift that will probably pay for less than a pack of tampons.
Youâre putting on the best smile you can muster, but you can feel that client after client it keeps weakening, and so do your knees. The smell of alcohol isnât helping either, with your stomach already being in bits since this morning. The loud laughter coming from all the tables around keeps piercing through your aching head and youâre pretty sure your back is dripping in sweat from your fluctuating body temperature.
âYou look a little pale, you okay?â Jaemin asks quietly as he stands next to you behind the bar. Itâs a busy Friday night, people coming in and out. Some looking to stay, some just pregaming for the rest of their long night out. And youâll give it to Jaemin, heâs been a lot more productive tonight than you have. So much that youâre actually thankful youâre working with him tonight. Because he keeps taking the heat from all the demanding customers without questioning your distraction.
"Mm, just tired." You lean forward against the shelf beneath the bar, eyes shut as you try to breathe through another wave of pain. "Sorry for letting you take the lead tonight."
You hear him take another order. Something about a Sex on the Beach. A moment later comes the beep of the card machine, then warmth envelops your side - his chest. And a gentle hand settles on your lower back.
You're too exhausted to flinch.
"Seriously, do you need a minute?" he asks, genuine concern softening his voice. The heat of his palm lands exactly where it hurts. "I don't mind if you go downstairs for a bitâ"
"No, I'm good." You shake your head quickly, resentment bubbling at being seen like this. You hate it enough that you could cry. Probably the insane hormones in your body working their magic.
âY/Nââ
âIâm fine.â
âNo, youâre not.â He presses, voice firmer than before but still laced with worry. His hand stays on your back, thumb tracing absent circles that might've been soothing if you weren't in so much pain. Then he shifts slightly, shielding you from the other bartenders. "Do you need painkillers? I've got ibuprofen in my bag."
Oh. So he definitely knows youâre bleeding out of your vagina. Great. And heâs attentive. Super great.
A sharp cramp twists in your tummy, forcing you to give in. So you nod. âWill you be good on your own for a few minutes? I might need toââ
"I'll be fine." He saves you from having to admit you need the bathroom to check whether you've leaked through your tampon.
The loss of his warmth is immediate, but a second later he's slipping a blister pack into your hand. His fingers linger for the briefest moment around your wrist before he pulls away as two new customers approach the bar.
"Take your time," he says quietly.
When you finally look up, he's already behind the till, already smiling at customers. Back to his usual chirpy self, as if he didn't just make you feel strangely safe.
By the end of what feels like the longest shift in human history, you've lost count of how many times Jaemin has checked if you're okay. Now he's practically forcing you into your jacket because he refuses to let you stay and close up. The painkillers have finally kicked in, and all you want is your bed and a hot water bottle. Still, you're oddly reluctant to leave without saying something.
âThanks for earlier, by the way.â You catch Jaemin's baffled look as he tries to sort glasses onto the shelves.
âWhy are you still here?â he scolds, disapproval written all over his face.
Despite yourself, you smile. âIâm going, Iâm going.â You lift your hands in surrender, already wearing your jacket, bag hanging off one shoulder. âJust wanted to say thanks.â
He glances up briefly, shoulders lifting in a small shrug before his attention returns to the cocktail jar in his hands. âItâs what partners do, no?â
Now that you're standing on the customer side of the bar, you finally get to see what everyone else sees. A very pretty, smiley man you'd probably avoid if you were ordering.
âWell, goodnight, partner.â
His entire face lights up, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. âI like it better when you say it.â
And then he's gone, disappearing into the back before you can think of a response.
The thudding in your chest leaves no coherent thoughts behind.
Itâs not that Jaemin is in love with you. Absolutely not. How could he be?
Everything he knows about you is what heâd know about any coworker. How you sound when youâre frustrated with him. How annoyed you get when he forgets to turn the dishwasher on. How pretty you look when youâre complaining about rude customers. How you always wear black tops to work but brighter colours around campus.
Heâs also noticed that you answer his questions before he asks them. He never has to spend long looking for something behind the bar; youâre already pointing him in the right direction.
No, itâs not that heâs in love with you. Thatâs not the case at all. He just canât seem to get you out of his head.
Heâs not sure when it became a problem, but he noticed it after that night you were feeling unwell. Heâd never seen your guard so low before, never seen you look like you needed someone to take care of you.
He wanted to text you after your shift. Make sure you got home okay.
He didnât.
Partly because he chickened out, and partly because you strike him as the type to leave a man on read without a second thought. Probably because you can. Sensational women tend to get away with things like that.
Lying in bed that night, exhausted but unable to sleep, he couldn't stop thinking about comforting you.
Not sex. Not any of the filthy scenarios his brain usually specialises in.
Just you. Curled up in his arms beneath a blanket. A bouquet of flowers abandoned somewhere on the coffee table. Chocolate. Your favourite snacks. His fingers combing through your hair while you slowly drift off against his chest.
Heâs fantasised about plenty of things before. Never this. Never about making someone's day easier.
With you, thoughâŚ
He wonders if youâd ever want him in your space like that. If youâd trust him to hold you like that. And most of all, he wonders if youâve thought about it too. But, to put it plainly, no. Jaemin is far from being in love with you.
Heâs really struggling to focus tonight.
With you sitting beside him, the booth somehow feels both too small and too big. He canât decide whether he wants more space between you or none at all.
Itâs Jisungâs birthday drinks. Three weeks after his actual birthday, his younger housemate finally managed to gather everyone for a quiet night out. No clubbing. No chaos. Just a lively bar a little outside of campus.
Jisung claimed he was sick of seeing the same faces all the time, to which Jaemin had agreed. And yet here he is, distracted by your familiar face.
Youâre tucked into the corner of the booth, practically shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Jeno sits on his other side. Beyond that, Jaemin couldnât tell you who's sitting where.
Not because heâs drunk.
Because you smell too good.
Because your arm keeps brushing his whenever you reach for your drink.
And because your dress...
Fuck.
Your dress.
You always look pretty. But tonight youâre on a different level. Or maybe itâs just his silly little brain playing tricks on him. Itâs only a black dress. Nothing he hasnât seen on other girls before. Then again, Jaemin often thinks that no one can pull things off like you do.
âSo whatâs Jaemin like at work, Y/N?â Renjun chimes in curiously from the opposite side of the booth. Here we go.
âHmm.â Jaemin feels your eyes on him before you answer. âSame as now, just less rigid.â
âHey, Iâm not rigidââ
âYou are a little.â Renjun saves the day again, clearly in the mood to mock.
âHeâs probably just annoyed he canât escape my presence.â You lean over the table, as if sharing a secret with his friend.
Oh, so youâre playing that game. Cool cool cool. âWhy would I wanna escape your presence? Being all up in your business is my new hobby.â
You shoot him the deadliest side-eye. So pretty. âIs it now?â
âMhm.â He twirls his straw playfully before taking a sip of the very strong rum and coke he ordered not too long ago. âHonestly, itâs what gets me through the week.â
Your scoff says you don't believe him for a second. âYou might as well just confess your undying love at this point.â
Yeah, heâs seriously thinking about it. âThat would be highly unprofessional considering youâre, like, my boss.â
âSince when do you give a fuck about professionalism?â
âUm,â He raises a sassy finger. âIâm pretty you lack in that department more than I do.â
You blink at him in disbelief. âExcuse me?â
âI donât spit in peopleâs drinks.â
âHe made her pay for everything and kept staring at my tits!â you fire back.
Jaemin laughs at the memory of you âaccidentallyâ dribbling into some guyâs beer before handing it over with the sweetest smile imaginable.
âNah, that was actually fire, I rate it.â He praises and leans more against the table, elbows on the surface as he rests his chin on his interlinked fingers, trying really hard not to stare at your tits, clearly no better than the man who, unknowingly, had the pleasure of tasting your spit. Maybe if Jaemin openly stares, youâll spit in his drink too.
Thatâs not a normal thing to want, is it?
Renjun is already immersed in another conversation with Haechan and Jisung, and Jaemin realises that for the first time in what feels like an eon, heâs nervous. As though heâs all alone with you and doesnât know how to handle it. Though, he doesnât have to dig too deep in his brain for a topic of conversation before you strike him with a surprisingly serious question. âSo, you excited to graduate?â
He feels like he needs hours to think about the right answer. Youâve definitely put him on the spot here, and no oneâs even listening. âYes and no.â
âThatâs awfully vague.â
âItâs true.â He shrugs, eyes trained on your nails. Not chipped for the first time. He can almost picture you painting them with a serious but insanely adorable look of concentration all over your face. âIâm curious about life after uni, but also, I know this is probably the freest weâll ever feel.â
âYeah,â You take in his words, and he can almost visualise your brain processing them as you slowly nod. âI donât think Iâm cut out to have a big girl job.â
âI think youâre cut out to have anything you want.â His words donât even click in his mind but your raised eyebrow makes him catch on. Heâll admit - though, not intended that way - that sounded like a line. âIâm serious.â
The corner of your mouth twitches. A hint of a smile. âDidnât say you werenât.â
âYou didnât have to.â
âRight, you know all my secrets. I forget.â Itâs the first time you refer to that night you two spent hours talking on that dingy sofa.
âNah, not all of them.â He deflects with a pout.
You tilt your head in question, cheek now resting on your palm as you give him your full attention. Itâs strange. It should feel like a victory. Instead, it makes him feel exposed.
âNo?â You ask teasingly.
He offers a nod and leans an inch closer. Enough for his arm to press against yours. Skin on skin. A rarity with you two. âI feel like I could know a lot more.â
âAnything specific?â You surprise him by not pulling back, if anything, you just hold eye contact. Like the rest of the group doesnât even exist. âFeels like youâve got a questionnaire prepared.â
Jaemin canât fight the cheeky smile. This is his moment. It's either go big or go home. âWhy did you leave the door ajar?â
Itâs like your mouth parts in slow motion. Then shuts again. And repeat. Youâre doing a good job at not showing much emotion at the outrageously daring question.
âWhy did you come upstairs?â You predictably answer him with a question of your own, and he has to bite a grin back. Because, of course, youâd do that.
âBecause you wanted me to.â His shoulders lift in a small shrug, like itâs self-explanatory. To him it is.
âAnd youâre so good at knowing what I want.â
âIâm definitely better at it than you are.â
âOof...â You lean back and cross your arms, your dubious frown causing a turmoil in his chest. Did he go too far? âDo you even know what you want?â
âMm, to be honest...â He leans in so he can whisper without risking getting heard by anyone else. âI rarely do, butââ
âOh, do me a favour.â You roll your eyes like youâre already bored of what heâs about to say next.
He chuckles, so amused with your reactions. âYou didnât even let me finish.â
âOh, Iâm so sorry.â The regret is so clearly faux, but still endearing, nonetheless. âPlease, carry on.â
âNo.â He leans back like you did, arms crossing stubbornly, sassily jutting his bottom lip out. âI donât wanna say now.â
âOh, no, please tell me.â You say with the most stoic look, still mocking him. âHow can I go on without knowing?â
âSarcasm will get you nowhere with me.â He disapproves with a determined smile, knowing heâs successfully getting under your skin.
âI donât know,â You casually reach and take his drink out of his hand, the straw already between your thumb and index as you swirl the remaining liquid, condensation dripping on your thigh, and Jaemin gets deja vu. âI think you prefer it when Iâm mean.â
Maybe you know him better than he thinks. Or maybe youâre just more observant than you let on. You certainly get a kick out of making his dick suffocate, though. Because as Jaemin watches you wrap your glossed lips around the straw heâs just had in his mouth, he feels appallingly turned on. And he really wants to wipe the drop off your thigh exactly like he did last time. He doesnât. But he does let his deranged mind entertain the thought of using his tongue instead of his thumb. Maybe someday. Hopefully.
âOh, so now Iâve got a humiliation kink?â He pretends to be offended, watching the movement in your throat as you swallow a gulp of his drink with a disapproving scrunch of your nose.
âYou said it, not me.â You put down the drink with a disgusted cough. âFuck, did you ask for battery acid?â
He giggles at your rapid blinking. âRuined your flirty antics, did I?â
âFuck off.â You laugh along, cheeks now rosier than before with the hint of embarrassment.
âNot too much with the bullying. Iâll get a boner.â
Your eyes widen in disbelief at his crudeness, and he feels like heâs thriving. Youâre finally speechless. This is what success feels like.
âI could get you fired for that.â
Oh.
âWait, what? I was just joââ
âGod, youâre such a guy.â You shake your head with mockery, mouth now around your own straw as you sip on what looks like something disgustingly fruity. âYou talk like you ownthe biggest pair of balls on planet earth but the second a girl outdoes you, itâs all begging and wah wah wahââ
âDo you ever shut up?â He doesnât know where the outburst came from, but your confused frown goes straight to his cock, and before he can apologise-
âYou shut up.â You clap back with a childlike frown, your ankle nudging his under the table in retaliation, and Jaeminâs competitive nature comes forth.
Youâre not winning this one. He refuses to let you. So instead of nudging you back, he hooks his ankle around yours. You donât ease up - as expected - trying to shove him away with a hand on his knee, glancing around with exaggerated innocence. Your worry about being seen is almost endearing, especially because youâre clearly biting back a smile.
Which is exactly why, instead of letting you go, Jaemin catches your hand and laces his fingers through yours.
Your small, sharp inhale slips past you, unnoticed by everyone except him. Your fingers twitch against his grip, but it holds steady â anchoring you in place â and finally does what he hasnât managed to do for weeks.
It quiets you.
And Jaemin feels, for once, like heâs won.
Especially when you stop resisting and sink back into your seat, his ankle still tangled with yours, your hand now folded into his.
All you give him is a side-eye sharp enough to pass as affection. And every time he drifts into conversation, he can feel you looking at him. He pretends not to notice, answering with a squeeze of your ankle or a slow stroke of his thumb across your knuckles.
He doesnât let go when Haechan brings over birthday shots for Jisung. One hand around his glass. The other one still holding yours like itâs instinct.
At some point â quietly, maybe even without meaning to â you lean into his side.
If anyoneâs noticed, they donât say a word. Jaeminâs almost certain thatâs because of you. Because if it were anyone else, his friends wouldâve made it unbearable by now. But your presence doesnât really allow for noise like that.
Theyâve learned.
The illusion breaks the moment you lean in and whisper that you need the bathroom. And when you slip out of the booth, leaving him wedged between wall and friend, Jaemin can already feel the questions forming.
Still, the ghost of your hand in his makes it worth it.
Youâre leaning against a lamppost waiting for your uber when Jaemin emerges from inside the bar. You really canât escape this man. Not that youâre trying that hard anyway.
âIâd ask where âWigglesâ came from but not so sure I wanna know.â
He takes his place in front of you, looking as effortless and unbothered as he always does. âYouâre always trying to wiggle away from me.â He discloses with a performative pout, lips shining more than before. He mustâve applied lip balm after you exited.
âRight. And you wonât let me.â You squint your eyes as though emphasising a complaint. Youâre sure he can see right through it anyway.
âI would hate to deprive you of the joy of my presence.â He flashes you a bunny-like smile with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. âYou cold?â He asks with a sniffle as he catches the little shiver that cuts through you.
âNah, Iâm good.â You check your phone again. âMy uberâs here in two mins anyway.â
He nods, but doesnât move to head back inside, eyes remaining fixed on you. âDid you have fun?â
You want to tease, make a comment about his earlier antics, but his question sounds genuine, and you donât think you'd want to go into that right now anyway. Not when thereâs a time limit. âI did, yeah. You?â
âOh, I had the most fun ever.â He drags the word, clearly not able to hold a serious conversation for more than four seconds.
âAt least you keep yourself entertained.â
He hums mischievously, taking a step closer. The shadows from the streetlight and the bar lights make one side of his face glow in yellow and pink. âYou never answered my question, you know.â
Heâs standing close enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to look at him properly. âWhich one?â
Before he can answer, a car engine roars, ending your conversation prematurely.
Heâs grinning, but he almost looks disappointed, like an opportunity was snatched right out of his hands. âIâll tell you another time.â
Your uber pulls up, and you nod at the driver with a smile, letting him know heâs got the right person. Before you can lift a hand, Jaeminâs opening the door to the backseat for you.
âBed time for you, wiggles.â He steps aside to make space for you, hand still on the car door when you turn to look at him before getting in. âIâll tell Sung you stayed until late.â He reassures, indicating that the birthday boy is at a level of intoxication that most likely will compromise his memory.
For a reason unbeknownst to you, thereâs a feeling of hesitation sitting in your chest. Youâre reluctant to leave. Not just because youâve had such a fun night. Itâs the boy in front of you that poses an obstacle, as always. Itâs how heâs made you feel all night. Itâs how heâs looking at you now. Itâs how heâs also still glued to the ground, not making an effort to end the night either.
âMake sure he drinks some water.â You opt to say, and Jaeminâs twitching mouth catches your attention. You feel like he can read your unease through your body language. Like he can read your mind. âRight, well, goodââ
Itâs funny how youâve always thought you had the upper hand in most situations in life. Jaemin was definitely one of those situations. Until now. Until he shut you up for the second time in one night. Only this time, with his mouth on yours. It's not searing, nor is it the kind of kiss that knocks the air out of your lungs. To your surprise, itâs soft. His lips are slow against yours, moving lazily, like heâs got all the time in the world, and you surprise yourself by finally giving in to the desire youâve suppressed for what seems like too long. Your hand finds itself on his nape, pulling him in with more determination, but with a delicate swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip, heâs gone.
âGoodnight, partner.â The whisper feels hot against your tingly lips, his smile is something you can only describe as wicked, and with that, he squeezes your waist in a way that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps before stepping away. Heâs walking back inside before you can utter a word or offer any type of reaction to what just occurred, something you shouldâve expected by now. Because itâs Jaemin. And Jaemin is unpredictable.
What you also know is that a kiss that short shouldnât have melted your brain the way it did.
When youâre settled in the back of the car, it finally dawns on youâ if he hadnât pulled away, you wouldnât have either. If Na Jaemin had kept kissing you, it is highly likely that you wouldâve dragged him in the backseat of this uber with you. And the faint heat between your thighs feels like a personal attack your body wasnât prepared for. But whatâs embarrassing is how willingly you would've let him take care of it. Or make more of a mess if he pleased.
Your hazy brain keeps blaming the alcohol youâve consumed, but as you sit there drowning in your overflowing thoughts, driving through campus and trying not to rub your thighs together, your thudding heart is telling you otherwise.
Since you started working with Jaemin, itâs become known to you that heâs a very punctual guy. Never late, and if not on time, then most likely early. So when you turn up for your first shift of the week on Monday â thankfully a quiet one â and Jaemin is nowhere to be found, the first thought that crosses your mind is that heâs quit. That he kissed you just because heâd had enough of your attitude and endless negativity. And now that heâs barely broken through those, heâs had enough of chasing after you.
You could ignore his absence and go about your day. Itâs the wise option. But your phone is already in your hands and your thumbs are typing away.
You: why is your friend not at work?
Sung: why do you ask
You: ??
Sung: heâs off this week
Sung: smth about a lab project thing he needs to prepare for
You: đ
Sung: he knew you were gonna ask me
You: lol
Sung: apparently youâre predictable đ
Great. So now youâre being mocked by who used to be your sweet friend Jisung. Fuck your nosiness. Or neediness in this instance. Needy for Na Jaemin? You? No. No. No. Absolutely the fuck not.
But then why are you already dreading dealing with customers without his hushed teasing comments? Or the provocative wiggling of his eyebrows when someone asks for your number in addition to their drink. Or the way he somehow appears beside you whenever a customer starts being difficult. Or how he always makes sure to add straws to a drink when you forget, even though heâs worked there for far less than you have. Or...
You suddenly come to the realisation that Jaemin has somehow become such a big part of your weeks. Like a habit you would struggle getting rid of.
And whatâs worse now is that since that night he randomly kissed you and made your brain short circuit, youâve not been able to shake the thought of him. The memory of him. The feeling of him. Of his lips on yours, of his hand in yours, of his mouth curling around the word âpartnerâ. A word you once were so indifferent to that has now acquired a completely different meaning to its actual one.
Jaemin has really become your partner at work. And generally, someone you look forward to seeing. Someone you seek but canât seem to find in your other coworkers. Or anyone you know really.
And as ridiculous as it may seem. Later in the week, three shifts in without him, you canât deny a fact that about two months ago wouldnât have even crossed your mind.
You miss Na Jaemin and the vibrant colours that come with him.
Jaeminâs never lacked initiative. Ever. Not as a kid, not as a teenager, not as an adult. Heâs always been one to go for things he wanted. Whether it be a goal, a dream, a plan, a piece of clothing, a book, a video game. Anything. And when it comes to his love life, well letâs say heâs never lacked initiative in that department either. The only thing heâs lacking there is curiosity. Or intrigue. Itâs always the same with every girl. No surprises. He knows what he wants, knows what he gets. And itâs not that heâs always been successful. Heâs had girls reject him before. Or ghost him even. But heâs only cared until heâs found his next conquest, which doesnât normally take more than a Saturday night and a few tequila shots.
Heâs always viewed himself as someone who comes across as light-hearted. Harmless even. Certainly not intimidating. He knows that for a fact. People look at him and smile openly. They welcome him in. They embrace his quirkiness. They see him as someone who holds no weight. No depth. No substance. And heâs always been fine with that.
Until recently. Until he got a taste of what itâs like to be taken seriously. To be levelled with. To be challenged.
Until you.
Until he felt curious and genuinely intrigued.
Not in a poetic âsheâs so different to everyone elseâ type of way. Because youâre not. You blend in quite well with everyone around you. Yeah, maybe youâre more on the grumpy side most of the time, but who isnât nowadays. You donât make rooms light up. Youâre not the centre of attention. Youâre just... you. Sarcastic to the bone. Short-tempered. Like most girls heâs encountered these three and a half years heâs been a student. Yet, you sometimes look at him like you fear him. Like heâs someone youâre not allowed to let in. Like heâs someone that comes with consequences.
And once again, Jaemin knows what he wants. He just doesnât know what he could get. He knows how to approach you. He knows thereâs a way in. Just isn't sure if thereâs a way out. And if there is... does that involve you and him both or just him? What if he finds his way in and then you kick him out? He knows thatâs very much a possibility.
But.
She kissed me back. He keeps repeating the words in his head. The memory of it even more. The little sound of surprise you let out. Your hand touching his neck, inviting him in.
Heâs deep in the reminiscing state when heâs jerked out abruptly, a soft hand tight around his wrist, dragging him towards god knows where. It doesnât take him longer than two seconds to recognise the back of your head. Your shoulders squeezing through the crowd of the house party, not a single glance thrown behind you, just your fingers clinging onto his skin, making him feel like heâs still daydreaming.
Heâs sure heâs not. But thereâs no realistic scenario in his head in which youâd be taking him up the stairs of a house whose owner he barely knows.
A few steps and a door later, heâs in a bedroom. A very girly one. Plushies, fairy lights, candles, heavy perfume lingering in the air, name it. The same door you dragged him through is slammed shut and locked and Jaemin is shoved into the fluffiest blanket ever, the bed creaking slightly covering the yelp that escapes his lungs. His hands reflexively catch his upper body weight, propping him up. And after what seems like the longest walk in history, youâre looking straight at him. Staring down at him, or more accurately, peering into his soul, never having looked more intimidating, and before Jaemin can question any of your actions, youâre stepping closer, eyebrow raising in what he can only assume is frustration.
Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh fucking shitting shit. He shouldnât have kissed you.
âWhat the fuck is your game plan here?â You demand, sounding enraged, and Jaemin canât think of the last time he had such a negative reaction to a kiss. Heâs had girls tell him heâs a bad kisser, but theyâve still kissed him again after that. One girl even dodged him once, but she also pounced on him not longer than an hour later.
âI umââ He can feel his jaw twitching with nerves, refusing to slacken and give him the opportunity to give you a satisfactory response.
âYou what?â You take a step forward, and even the tiniest movement from your side feels like a threat. âWhy did you kiss me?â
Here we go. Itâs out in the open.
âDo you even remember doing it?â
âWhaâ yes.â Well, look at that. He can speak. Fucking well done, loser. âOf course, I remember.â
âOh, congrats!â You give him a condescending smile, as though congratulating him for being able to utter a total of three words. âDo you remember why?â
He knows why. âI wanted to?â
You blink twice, nostrils flaring as you inhale deeply.
âIâm sorry ifââ
âIf what? You overstepped? Confused me? Do you understand that we work together? Iâm not doing this work drama thing just so you canââ
âI confused you?â Itâs the only part that matters out of all the things you listed. âHow?â
Your features contort in bafflement, eyes narrowing slightly. âThatâs what you care about?â
âTell me.â He is close to pleading, butt moving to the edge of the bed, knees touching yours as he inches closer. âPlease.â
âThatâs not the point, Jaemin!â Your hands raise in exasperation, feet taking a step back, your warmth absent again as you turn around and walk toward the door. Heâs already accepted the fact that youâre about to exit the room and the situation, but you halt instead. And all Jaemin can see is your back. Your shoulders moving in sync with your deep breathing have him captivated. He canât look anywhere else.
âWhat is then?â The question slips without permission. Itâs only when you turn around that heâs very aware of his mouth and how itâs moved on its own accord.
If looks could kill, Jaemin would be dead now. âThe point is that you donât think. You just do things.â
âI do think.â He doesnât waste a second to defend himself. Because he knows heâs right, even if your scoff completely disregards his statement. Regardless of his calm nature, Jaeminâs jaw ticks at your reaction. And so does his brain. âI think about you an awful lot. And you know it.â
You slump against the door with a groan, face dropping into your hands, and Jaemin doesnât understand why youâre so vexed. Is it really that much of a burden that he likes you?
âWhy did you bring me here, if youâre just gonna insult me?â Heâs on his feet before he completes the sentence, voice raising slightly, making you look up in subtle surprise quickly concealed by your anger. âJust say youâre not interested in me like that andââ
âInsult you?â You scowl, throwing the word right back at him like it disgusts you. âHow am I possibly insulting you? By trying to understand what you want from me?â
âWhat about you, huh?â He steps closer, despite his effort to hold back. âWhat do you want?â
âStop deflecting.â His eyes catch the clenching of your fists at your sides, and the thought of you fighting the urge to punch him, exhilarates him. Does he really get under your skin that much?
âIâm notââ
âThe fuck you smiling at, you clown?â Is he? Oh shit. He hadnât even clocked that. âThereâs literally nothing funny about this.â The impact of your hands on his chest shocks him, shoving him back into his previous spot on the bed. Clearly you like him sat down. And itâs no secret to him that he doesnât mind looking up at you. Heâd happily get on his knees if you asked him.
He needs to control his thoughts. And if heâs going to do that, he canât have you standing above him or heâs going to lose all sense. So he moves to get up again. Futilely. Because you shove him back down before he can even try. He refuses to lose the battle. He tries again. Fails. And this time you push him so hard he ends up on his back. Which snaps his compromised patience.
âStopââ He grabs onto your wrists, jerking you forward. âFuckingââ Pulls again when you fight back. âPushing me.â He manoeuvres you, not letting you crush him, and somehow, in all the mess of whining and grabbing and yanking, heâs got you on the bed with him.
You both somehow land on your backs, in an awkward position. Half your torso is on him, the other half on the mattress, one of his arms crushed under you as opposed to the one caging you and holding you hostage despite your incessant squirming and twisting.
âStop it, you nutcase.â He canât help but laugh, not on purpose. Not to piss you off. The situation is just too amusing for him to stay as serious as you want him to. He still tightens his hold around you, forearm, pressed against your collarbones, hand gripping your shoulder until you gradually still your crazy limbs. âYou done?â
Your erratic breathing resembles his, making him feel less pathetic, and Jaemin canât ignore the intense thrumming of your heart through your back. You can probably feel his; beating wilder than it ever has. He can feel it in his ears.
Your pliancy bemuses him, but he thanks all the forces above for it, and he sighs in relief when you let him roll you onto your side so he can get his arm back. Before you can escape, even though you make no such advance, he drapes his newly functional arm over the dip of your waist, keeping you in an almost spooning position but still leaving space between your back and his front.
âWe can talk or we can keep scrapping like cats,â He speaks calmly again, and by the movement of your shoulders he knows you can hear him clearly. âUp to you.â
âYou wanna talk now? Like this?â You ask in disbelief, already starting to get on his nerves again.
âYes. Now.â He drags you closer, expecting some sort of protest when he leaves just a couple centimetres between your bodies, settling close enough for his face to bury in the citrusy combination of your perfume and shampoo. Or moisturiser. Or whatever it is that makes him feel all warm and fuzzy. Regardless,he tries his best to stay as focused as possible. âIf you donât mind, Iâll start.â
You try to turn around. âI do mind actuallyââ
âDonât care. Iâm talking.â The arm heâs got around your middle keeps you in place, and he feels your sharp exhale against the arm your head is resting on. âI feel like youâre either in denial or you just have no fucking clue whatâs going on here, which would be impossible considering youâre one of the smartest people I know.â
Silence. Good, youâre finally listening to him.
âWhich leaves us with the first option.â He lifts his head a little, the tip of his nose touching the end of your jawline. He adores the way you shrink away from him, face tucked even further into his elbow, the heat radiating off your cheek and onto his skin. âAnd that would be a shame, cause that means youâre missing out.â
He feels movement on his arm again. Maybe your lips pursing, maybe your nose scrunching, definitely something. âOn what?â
He takes that as his cue to eliminate the tiny space left between you. Chest to back now, ass to crotch, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. âMe. And you. Sitting in a tree. Kissing.â
The tiny shiver that runs through you is something that affects him more than it should. Something so minimal yet powerful enough to go straight to his head, shaking up whatever is left in there.
âYouâre a fucking idiot.â You mutter stubbornly into his skin, a finger slowly tracing one of the veins on his extended arm, like youâre trying to distract yourself. âIâm not in denial. Iâm perfectly aware of whatever weird vibe we have going on.â
Interesting. âOkay...?â
âI just donât understand what you want from me.â Your index reaches his wrist, and when he expects you to withdraw, you trace further instead, onto the lines of his unclenched palm. It also mirrors what youâre doing beneath all of this. Trying to figure him out. So, he instinctively flexes his fingers, palm opening, giving you more space to explore.
He decides to tease. âYou want a power point presentation or...?â
âNo, I want you to tell me.â The joke clearly doesnât land. Your tone doesnât resemble the one your voice carries when you roll your eyes at him. Itâs serious, like youâve had enough of his shit.
Heâs not ready to give in just yet, though. âOkay, Iâm sensing your preferred type of love language is words of affirmation.â
âBe for real.â You lightly dig your nails into the skin of his palm in a quiet threat, which strangely, goes straight to his dick. That strips him of his playfulness, and he gives in with a sigh, forehead dropping against your shoulder.
âI donât wanna say the wrong thingâ like, I donât know what you wanna hear. Or what youâ like, what if I say something and then things get awkward andâ
âDoesnât matter what I wanna hear.â Your fingers stop tracing and you reach for his other hand this time, the one on your stomach, squeezing in something that feels like reassurance. âThereâs no right answer. You already know what you want. You just need to tell me.â
Jaemin really does need to. Heâs been dying to tell you. But now heâs actually getting the chance to, he feels slightly dizzy, like heâs experiencing an outer body experience. Like heâs looking at himself from across the room, warning himself, judging himself. He keeps hearing the words âwatch what you sayâ, because what if he scares you away? What if you laugh in his face? Or worse, what if you donât take him seriously?
âI want...â
You hum in anticipation, fingers slithering between his, your warm palm engulfing the top of his, exactly like he did to yours a few nights ago in that booth. Only this time it feels different. It feels like it matters. Thereâs nothing lighthearted about it. Just like the words heâs struggling to get out.
âI wanna know more about you.â He starts easy, buying himself time. âAnd I wanna spend time with you. Outside of work.â Your thumb playing with his distracts him from his deafening heartbeat, and he takes a second to swallow, but even thatâs too loud. âThink thatâs something we can do?â
You turn your head slightly, letting him nuzzle against your cheek. âThatâs all?â
âNo.â He wants to look at you, but he canât bring himself to open his eyes. âI want... to make you laugh more.â
âReally?â You question in a tone so genuinely adorable that almost kills him.
âMm.â He nods, eyes fluttering open when he feels you move his hand with yours a little further down.
âDo you⌠wanna take me on dates?â
âYeah.â He nods again, ears focused on your words, but eyes glued to your intertwined hands and the journey the dangerous path theyâre trailing down. âWanna be good to you.â
âGood how?â Your lips graze his cheekbone, hand adamantly still guiding his, ass pushing back into him just a tiny bit, offering enough pressure to make his eyes shut for a second. âNuh-uh.â You scold when his hand starts moving on its own, moving past the waistband of your skirt, and he immediately halts, letting you have the upper hand quite literally.
He exhales shakily, brain scrambled, struggling to put his thoughts into words. âI dunno, just⌠wanna do nice things for you and spoil you.â
âThatâs sweet.â Your nose cutely nudges his cheek, and Jaemin starts questioning his sanity. âWhat else?â
âWanna be able to kiss you whenever I want.â He admits openly, not having searched much in his brain for that one.
âHow do you wanna kiss me?â Your locked hands are now just below the hem of your mini skirt, his fingertips brushing your inner thigh, and he canât help but curl his impatient digits around the fabric. You donât scold him this time.
Jaemin could easily show you how he wants to kiss you right now. He could so easily grab your face and shove his tongue down your throat. But thatâs not what you're asking. You want words. And as much as he hates how obedient heâs become for you, itâs also turning him on. âHow do you like to be kissed?â
âHmm,â You ponder, clearly enjoying the torture youâre putting him through. âSlow. And a little wet.â Perfect. Exactly how he likes it too. Maybe more than just a little wet, but heâs sure you two can meet in the middle. He just needs to actually kiss you first. âUnless weâre fucking.â
He lets out an embarrassing moan at the obscene imagery his brain instantly creates, hips unintentionally grinding into your ass, hard cock now tucked between your cheeks, and he realises heâs got the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thigh. So close to where he wants to be. âWhat about then?â
âMessy.â You mumble into his arm, sounding a little breathless yourself. âWant it really messy then.â
âMessyâs good. I like messy.â He finally cracks, not caring how desperate he sounds. Heâs already given up on trying to win with you. Heâs been losing ever since the first time he spoke to you. âAnything you want, Iâll fucking do it.â
Your resolve seems to be abandoned too this time, trembling hand leaving his momentarily to bunch up your skirt just enough for easier access. Just above your upper thighs, without revealing whatâs underneath. He gulps in anticipation, not making a single move before your hand is back on his, not moving as slow this time, but dragging his fingers across your skin, over to the crease of your thigh and crotch, the seam of your panties moving a tiny bit from the light friction, but not out of the way.
âShit.â He exhales in awe. âYouâre soââ
âShush.â You whine bashfully, dragging a weak laugh of disbelief out of him. He keeps his mouth shut by landing a long kiss on your shoulder. The first time heâs kissed your skin ever, and he wishes he could do it every day.
âAwh, are you turned on?â He coos, letting his middle finger drag over the fabric of your panties, feeling your wetness seeping through and coating his skin with your essence. Itâs so slippery, and sticky, and just so perfect as the light pulse of your clit makes him slightly overflow with need. Your little nod against his arm makes him smile, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip in delight. âIâll make it better, if you let me.â
âMm, please.â It sounds more like an instruction than a polite request, and your fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist make it clear. Youâre not begging him, youâre just demanding what you deserve. And heâs going to give it to you on a golden platter. Heâll give you anything you ask for. Heâll get on his knees for you if you say the word. As long as you keep letting him touch you. As long as you keep letting him please you.
âFuck, Iâm so into you.â He whispers needily, cock twitching in its confines, jeans suffocatingly tight as he tries to get some relief through subtle rolls of his hips, almost too worried heâll accidentally start rutting into you like a dog in heat. Your drenched folds separating as he slips his finger between them, as much as your panties deem possible, donât help him at all, especially when accompanied by the tiniest mewls youâre letting out each time he softly rubs over your already swollen nub. âGuide me again. Show me where you want me.â
Your fingers join his again, positioning his middle and ring fingers directly above your covered clit, panties still somehow clinging on even through all the slick thatâs gathered at the seat of them. âHere, slow at first.â You urge him to stimulate the tender spot in small circles, fingers moving above his to show him how much pressure you like. Your deep sigh gives him all the confirmation he needs that heâs touching you just right.
Jaemin watches your reactions over your shoulder. The rise and fall of your chest with each shallow breath. The glimpse of cleavage beneath your crop top. The hem of your skirt hiding your joined hands and everything they're doing underneath.
Normally, he'd want a better view. Being a visual person, he would've found an excuse to hike your skirt higher or reposition you just enough to watch exactly what he was doing to your pussy, but right now, he couldnât care less. Because somehow, this is hotter. Not seeing everything. Not having you bare beneath him. Just watching your body give him away, little by little. It doesn't compare to anything he's had before. And he has a feeling it never will.
Your hand comes into view when it leaves his, letting him take over, but it quickly takes its place around the back of his neck, fingers slowly sneaking through his hair, forcing his eyes shut at the soft feel of your touch. He keeps rubbing your clit just how you showed him, and lets you pull him close enough that his forehead brushes your temple, resting there for a moment, keeping his eyes closed and focusing on the sweet sounds he coaxes out of you and the slick that keeps accumulating beneath his fingers. He contemplates slipping his hand inside your panties to feel you properly. Heâd be lying if he said he isnât dying to. But you havenât given him that green light yet, so he adds a little more pressure on your clit instead.
âJaemââ Your hips buck into his hand, the needy reaction almost funny, but he contains his laugh with a bite on his lip and gently cups your pussy in his palm, preventing you from running away.
âRelax, Wiggles.â He says softly, landing a tiny kiss on your cheek before running his fingers over the expanse of your folds and then resuming the circular motions on your clit, a little faster than before but still gentle. Still giving you a lot less than he really wants to.
The harsh tug you give his hair makes him grunt in surprise, taking the gesture as a warning. He harshly grinds his cock into your ass in retaliation, earning a breathless laugh from you that brings a smile to his face, which spreads wider when you twist your neck to take a look at him, and he feels like itâs the first time youâre looking at him without a threatening edge in your eyes. He shuffles as close as he can, face hovering over yours as he takes in the pleasure littering your features like a canvas. He would kill to have his camera with him and snap a picture of it. His cock throbs with want as you slowly blink up at him, clearly taking him in too, and youâre not subtle when you let your eyes drift down to his lips momentarily.
âYou wanna kiss me, donât you?â He teases, already knowing the answer but enjoying the little crease of frustration between your eyebrows a little too much. You give him a small nod, letting your gaze drift down again. He still doesnât budge, fingers slowing down too, on a mission to punish you a little for the painful hard-on heâs got going on because of you. âSay please.â
Thereâs a look on your face heâs positive heâs never had the delight of encountering before, one that obliterates any pride heâs got left. The puppy eyes youâve put on are doing enough pleading. So much that you donât even have to say it, and Jaemin instinctively lowers his face close enough to nuzzle his nose with yours, something heâs not sure heâs ever done with anyone before. Heâs never felt the need to. He doesnât even realise heâs doing it until you raise your head to initiate the so desired kiss, your lips brushing his lightly for half a second. He pulls back just a fraction, taking one last look at your flushed face, savouring the haze in your eyes just a little longer, but a particular stroke of his fingers makes your eyes shut in pleasure. And itâs the sweet whimper you let out that makes him finally close the gap, tongue already slipping past your parted lips.
He kisses you exactly how you said you liked to be kissed. Slow and wet. Not too sloppy, no teeth. Just his lips dragging against yours, head tilted enough for his tongue to sneak inside your mouth just a little, and you match his rhythm in no time. Your mouth parts to let him in, your taste just like he remembers it. A little sugary from the drinks youâve had earlier, enough to make him sigh from the relief of finally being able to experience this. Just like heâs daydreamed for what feels like too long. Maybe even better.
You swiftly flop onto your back, the movement catching him off guard, but your hands engulfing his face in them get him back on track. He breaks the kiss for just a second, so that he can steal a glance at his hand working between your now spread legs.
âDonât stop.â You whine needily, your hips arching off the bed, chasing for more as you bury a hand in his hair, bringing his mouth back to yours.
âFuck, baby.â He moans all muffled, sounding completely wrecked even though it should be the other way around. Your tongue coaxes his lips open this time, forcing itself inside his eager mouth, and he canât help but cheekily suck on it as his fingers move on their own accord, slipping down, teasing your entrance over the soaked fabric of your underwear. Youâre so wet he can feel the outline of your pussy lips as if thereâs no barrier, and god, he wishes his face was buried between your legs. Wishes he could smell you and taste you for hours. The thought of devouring your cunt while your legs shake and lock around his head, suffocating him, sends a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock. And it hurts. Itâs painful not to thrust against your hip, seeking for any kind of relief, so he does, letting you swallow his low whines as you keep him close.
âMmhâ can youââ
âMm, what?â He nods frantically, desperate to give you more.
âJust...â You keep kissing him, one hand gently caressing his jaw, while the other finds his again, and before he can question you, youâre dragging his hand up until it reaches the waistband of your panties. And then youâre urging him to slip inside. He internally celebrates and obliges without a word; tongue tangling deliciously with yours as he quickly dips two of his fingers between your folds with a deep groan, quickly finding your clit again, picking up where he left off, with tight circles on your cute nub. Fuck, itâs pulsing, and he wonders if your pussy would pulse just like that around his cock, swallowing him. âFaster.â
Again, he obeys, denying you anything never an option, and he instantly starts stroking your clit with three of his fingers, fast and hard, from side to side, and your mouth parts against his in a silent moan, the vibration getting a reaction that claims a place in his brain. âGood?â
âYeah,â You nod desperately. âIâm close.â
He nods back. âWant my fingers inside?â
âNo, no.â You plead, clearly too in the moment to care. âJust keep doing what youâre doing.â
His free hand wraps around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he gives you what you want. âYouâre so wet.â He mumbles between frantic breaths. âDidnât know you wanted me that bad.â
You whine in protest, your panting making it impossible for you to speak words other than a broken: âOh my god.â
âFuck, youâre shaking.â He whispers, in complete awe of your pleasure, admiring how your face contorts, how your eyes roll back, how your legs tremble. âDonât hold it, let go.â He encourages gently, able to see right through your self-control, and eager to demolish it. Even now, even on the brink of an orgasm you clearly want to reach, you try to squirm away from his touch, your legs clamping around his hand stubbornly, preventing any movement.
âDonât get me wrong, I love it when youâre being difficult, but right now is not the time.â He huffs in frustration, hand fidgeting, fingers now squished between the plush of your thighs, unintentionally coating your flesh in your arousal. âIf you wanna cum before someone finds us in here, I suggest you spread those legs again.â
The hand still nudged in his hair pulls him closer again, but he resists, not in the mood to give into your wishes anymore. He recognises the distress and conflict in your eyes. Youâre not being stubborn, youâre just embarrassed. What for, heâs not sure, but he likes it. Because itâs unlike you.
It does click in his head, though. âIâll keep kissing you if you let me make you cum.â
And with that, the clenching of your thighs eases up a little. And Jaemin canât fight the amused laugh that bubbles in his chest. Because bribery does work. And heâs finally connected the dots.
You only got shy when he stopped kissing you so he could watch you. And, suddenly, so much makes sense, but he chooses to lock that thought away in the back of his mind. For now. Because your legs are parting for him again.
âYeah?â He coos, fingers now moving freely, momentarily dipping down, collecting slick arousal thatâs trickled out of your entrance before returning to your clit. He nods along with you when you let your eyes shut in bliss. âThatâs it. Good girl.â
He doesnât let you react to the praise, mouth slotting with yours like he promised, silencing whatever protest was bubbling in your throat. He knows he was treading on thin ice with that, repeatedly having been made aware how youâre not about to let a man patronise you or degrade you. Ever. Your boundaries have always been clearer than water, the harsh tug on his hair proves that much. But Jaeminâs not backing down again. Heâs had enough of your shit, and so he kisses you harder, sloppier.
âHave you lost your fucking mind?â You tug harder, making him grunt and rub you in quicker and firmer circles.
âShut. Up.â He almost doesnât recognise the harshness in his own voice, never having felt so annoyed at someone and wanting to please them at the same time. Itâs usually one or the other. It seems youâve proven him wrong once again. âBe grateful Iâm not bending you over and fucking the shit out of you.â
He pulls on your hair too, his level of roughness not enough to match yours, but enough to have your teeth biting down on his bottom lip, and heâs pretty sure youâve drawn blood.
âFine.â He challenges, his limits already crossed. âHave it your way.â
His knees hit the floor before he can think, his hands grabbing on your thighs, dragging your body to the edge of the bed, and before you can let out more than a yelp, Jaeminâs pulling your panties to the side, revealing your dripping centre.
âWhat theââ
âSo cute.â He mumbles as he watches his middle and ring fingers slip inside your clenching hole too easily, the wetness making everything nice and slippery for him, and when he curls them, your back arches. Too fucking pretty.
âJaem, oh my god.â You whimper out weakly, clouding his already jumbled head.
âFuck, I love that.â He whispers mindlessly, circling your visibly swollen nub with his tongue once. âYou sound so sweet.â
He can tell itâs finally (thankfully) game over for you, when your legs open further for him, and he wastes no time. He soon finds a rhythm with his fingers that has your walls tensing, but he keeps hitting what he believes is the right spot. And when he angles a little more upwards, his doubts are instantly gone.
âYes, yes, yes, fuck, right there.â You exclaim in despair, chest heaving, legs quaking just like before.
âI got you.â He mumbles against your folds, then engulfs your clit in his mouth, sucking gently while drawing slow circles with his tongue, finally able to enjoy your taste like heâs always wanted. A satisfied hum escapes him when your hands slip in his hair again, holding him in place as your pussy quivers around his digits. The tighter you get, the louder the squelching noises become, and when he fucks his fingers into you a little faster, he knows youâre finally climaxing.
âShit, Iâm cumming.â You exhale abruptly, like youâre caught off guard, legs closing in around his head, only this time, he doesnât mind. Far from it. If he could suffocate between your thighs, heâd probably thank you.
Your little cries are more than gratifying. The kneading of your walls as he tries his best to drag out your high goes straight to his erection, his balls feeling so heavy and sore, and when your nails lightly scratch his scalp, he feels his abdominal muscles contract, pelvis involuntarily thrusting into nothing. Itâs when his cock throbs painfully that he knows itâs inevitable, and before he can even pull away from your core, Jaemin is shamefully releasing in his pants. Untouched. Coating his boxers in his own cum.
He blames it on the edging and the fact that he's been sporting a hard-on for at least half an hour, but deep down he knows itâs just his unfiltered want for you. He knows itâs you. You and everything about you.
He can hear your overstimulated whines when the haze starts to dissipate, and he slowly slips his fingers out, realising that his mouth is just aimlessly parted against your folds, nose squished against your pubic bone as he tries to regain his breath.
âYou okay?â He pants, sounding like heâs just ran a marathon instead of given head.
You let out a fucked-out laugh. âI feel like I should be asking you that.â
âShut up.â He laughs with you, forehead defeatedly resting on your tummy as he tries to conceal his hot face. Fuck, he doesnât think heâs ever felt embarrassed in front of a woman. It doesnât help that heâs currently on his knees either. Your soft fingers carefully combing through his damp hair offer a little bit of calmness, however.
âIs that, like, a recurring theme or should I feel honoured?â You tease, the light heartedness in your tone making him smile like an idiot. He doesnât think heâs ever heard you like this before.
âKeep testing me and youâll find out.â He feigns annoyance, landing a light slap on your outer thigh before squeezing the flesh hard.
You whine in protest, and even though he canât see your face, he can picture the frown youâre sporting. His imagination not being enough, he decides to lift his head so he can look at you properly, only to find that youâre already staring at him.
âHi.â He lands a quick kiss just below your bellybutton, where your top doesnât meet your skirt.
âHi.â Your lips twitching in a half-smile urge him to kiss your skin again, and then once again until youâre giggling. âStop.â
He hums against your skin in fake contemplation, already knowing he doesnât want to, but then he glances down between your legs, drenched core still on display, puffy folds glistening from before, panties still messily pushed to the side, and when you attempt to shut your legs, he beats you to it, holding them in place, refusing to miss out on the pretty sight. So enticing.
âCan I clean it up?â He asks without a second thought, thumbs pulling the lips apart to reveal more of what a mess heâs made, your pretty clit still protruding a little from the attention it received earlier. He looks up at you, taking in your bemused eyes, and he chuckles at your cuteness. âItâs a subtle way of saying I wanna lick yourââ
âI know what it means,â You cut him off with a pointed look, clearly disapproving of his crude choice of words. âIâve just never had anyone ask that before.â
He clicks his teeth in judgment, internally laughing at the joke heâs about the make. âReally? Chenle not that freaky then?â
âEw!â You shriek adorably, gently kicking him on the shoulder. âDonât talk about him when youâre between my legs.â
âWhy not?â He wiggles his eyebrows provocatively, face already inching closer to where he wants to be.
âBecause itâs weird?â
âYou had no issue with me watching him rail you.â He blows air on your clit on purpose, watching you squirm in his hold, his hands firm on the backs of your thighs. âI gotta admit, though...â He catches your little hole clenching. âYou werenât as loud then as you were tonight.â He chuckles when your hands come up to cover your face with a pained groan. âDonât be shy. I loved it.â
âJust fucking do it.â You huff in frustration and buck your hips towards his face.
He leaves a wet kiss on your inner thigh, sucking the supple flesh teasingly, before he darts his tongue out, licking a wide stripe between your folds, doing his best to gather as much of your essence as he can, and repeats the action again and again, clearly not doing a very good job as the more he laps you up, the more arousal keeps gathering at your opening and your whimpers get louder and louder.
âSuch a sweet pussy.â He relishes in your taste and decides he needs to stop when he feels his dick starting to stir back to life in his pants, otherwise youâll be stuck in this room for god knows how long. With a gentle kiss on your clit, he withdraws and pulls your underwear back into place before giving your thighs a gentle but condescending pat. âAll done.â
Before you can sit up, heâs crawling up your body, caging you with his arms, and fuck his life, you look so good under him. So soft and pliant, legs on either side of his waist. Nothing like the girl he knows from work. He likes both versions equally, but this one he doesnât think he could ever get used to.
âYouâre hard again.â You wiggle your hips against his, cock flush against your thankfully covered centre.
âYeah, and youâre still wet.â He responds with a subtle roll, cock sitting uncomfortably in his damp boxers, but nothing he canât handle. âSo, please can we go before I fuck you in some strangerâs bed?â
You snort, arms loosely wrapping around his neck, urging him closer, and he easily caves in. This kiss is soft, no tongue or urgency, just little sucks on your bottom lip, until heâs temporarily satiated his need for you.
âCome on, donât want my friends thinking youâve kidnapped me.â He leaves another chaste smooch on your lips and gets up with a dramatic groan, already missing your body heat against him.
A few minutes later, when heâs leaning against a wall next to the bathroom, waiting for you while pretending heâs aimlessly scrolling through his phone, Jaemin thinks back to how he ended up in this situation in the first place, and realises he still doesnât really know where he stands with you. Yes, clearly, youâre both attracted to each other, and thereâs no doubt in his mind that he likes you. But do you genuinely like him? Or do you just find him hot and fuckable? What if youâre just getting bored of whatever arrangement you have with Chenle and Jaeminâs just another distraction until you find someone youâre actually interested in?
âThanks for waiting.â You interrupt his thoughts, ready to head for the stairs, but Jaemin feels like if he doesnât clear this up now, he might lose the courage to do so later.
âWait, hang on a sec.â He gently pulls you back by your hand, and you quickly face him, seeming clueless about his internal turmoil, eyes blinking up at him curiously.
âIs something wrong?â You ask carefully, worry laced with your tone, making Jaeminâs stomach do a little flip.
âNo.â He shakes his head, and smiles when your shoulders drop in relief. âI guess Iâm just still a little confused.â
âAbout?â You squeeze his hand, a tiny gesture of encouragement that makes him feel warm and fuzzy.
âWell...â Heâs suddenly incapable of holding your gaze, your fingers posing as a distraction as observes your hand in his and how good they look like that. âI mean what I said. I want to, like, you knowâŚâ
âBe good to me?â You tease, referring to what he said earlier in the heat of the moment. Not that he didnât mean it.
âMm, that too,â Both hands are now playing with yours like itâs a fidget toy. âBut also spend more time with you and go on dates and stuff. If you also want that. Obviously.â He lets out a nervous laugh. God, he sounds pathetic.
You step closer, leaving no space between your bodies, and Jaemin feels himself relax a little, finally able to look at you. Youâve got an adorable grin on your face, as though you can already see right through him. Like the idea of making his heart go crazy is so enticing to you. âI also want that.â
âReally?â He perks up, excitement already brewing in his chest at the thought of holding your hand in public.
âMhm,â You nod, hand flexing in his, fingers extending like heâs just proposed to you and youâre waiting for the ring. Maybe he should start saving up for one at this point. âButââ
âBut what? Why but?â The questions roll off his tongue without permission, and he hates how desperate he sounds.
âRelax, loser. Iâm not rejecting you.â You laugh at his misery. Itâs kind of hot. But he wonât admit that. At least not right now. âI was just gonna say, Iâd rather we kept it low-key at work. If thatâs okay with you.â
âI can do low-key.â He says quicker than heâd like to. âIâll behave.â
âOkay, well, donât behave too much.â You poke him in the chest with a smirk that makes him feel all tingly and giddy. He feels like a teenager speaking to their crush for the first time.
âOh?â He pouts playfully, fluttering his eyelashes like he knows you hate, his arm loosely circling your waist, hand resting at the small of your back, slowly pulling you close, the proximity clearly something youâre both still getting used to. âWhy? Would that be too sus?â
âItâs good youâre self-aware.â You say sarcastically, your free hand coming to squish his cheeks, surprising him. âHas anyone ever told you your eyelashes are, like, freakishly long?â
He laughs loudly at the random observation, remembering that time you said something about him flying if he blinked too fast. âYeah, you.â
âHave I?â You tilt his face, evidently too busy inspecting his lashes to actually pay attention to what heâs saying. âWhen?â
âRight before you gave me the bedroom eyes and made me watch youââ
âShhhhh.â You squeeze his cheeks harder, making it impossible for him to finish his sentence. âYouâre pretty, but you talk too much.â
âMmphââ Heâs not able to complain, not due to your tight hold on his face, but mainly because youâre suddenly shutting him up with your mouth on his. You leave a loud smooch on his lips, and then a second one, and before you can pull away, he doesnât even realise heâs got a hand in your hair, holding you in place.
Your hand trails from his face to his chest, resting there, allowing him to tilt his head so he can deepen the kiss. And just when heâs about to turn you around and pin you against the wallâ
âWoah!â Jisungâs high pitched exclamation makes you both pull away in surprise. And when Jaemin looks up, thereâs his younger friend, barely able to stand up due to the amount of alcohol heâs consumed, yet enough in touch with his surroundings to understand what you two are up to. âEw, ew, ew, ew, absolutely not, stop it right now, thatâs vile. Bye.â He slurs and abruptly sits down at the top of the stairs with his forehead resting on the wall.
Jaemin struggles not to burst out laughing when he takes in your comical expression, eyes wide, lips pursed tightly to contain your own snicker. And then he internally groans, realising that heâs probably Jisungâs saviour for tonight. âI think Iâm gonna have to take him home.â
âYeah, thatâs all you.â
Itâs maybe three or four quick kisses later that Jaemin, hesitantly of course, manages to find the will to pull away from you.
Youâve learnt to expect everything from Na Jaemin. At this point you could say youâve mastered the art of not getting surprised at things he says or does, regardless of the outrageousness they sometimes carry. You were confident that his unfiltered and blunt way of navigating life didnât really faze you much anymore.
Until last night.
Last night, you were surprised. Last night, you were fazed. Pleasantly so, but still. What you were expecting were vague answers, boyish excuses, charming batting of long eyelashes and maybe the distracting smile that always gets him out of trouble. What you were not expecting was your insufferable coworker getting on his knees for you and giving you one of the most mind-blowing orgasms youâve ever experienced, right after admitting he wants to date you (to put it plainly). What you also didnât expect was his neediness. And how weak it made you feel. So much that you left the party wondering what his cum tastes like.
Who in their right mind wonders that about someone? Clearly you. Because clearly, youâre not in your right mind. You canât be. Since when can you not control your impulses? To the point where you allow yourself to drag a man into a strangerâs room only to ask for explanations you donât really need anyway? Since when do menâs explanations matter to you? Na Jaeminâs out of all menâs thoughts should be something of low significance to you. So why were you so bothered? Yeah. He kissed you out of the blue. So what? Something so easy to ignore, yet it had been gnawing at your brain like a parasite. A stupid fucking kiss that tasted like rum and coke.
You're still in bed, staring at the ceiling when your phone starts going off, slightly startling you out of your snoozy state.
âHello?â You pick up without properly checking the screen.
âYou sound cute when youâre sleepy.â Before you can even finish processing him, Jaeminâs annoyingly chirpy voice blasts through the speaker, breaking through the quiet of your room. Of course heâs a morning person.
âHowâd you get my number?â You grumble, still not entirely awake but oddly pleased to hear him.
He must be in the middle of typing as you hear the keyboard clicking in the background. âWork group chat, silly.â
âAnd youâre calling at eleven am on a Sunday because...?â You shuffle onto your front and place your phone on your pillow after putting Jaemin on speaker.
âWell...â He drags the word as though he enjoys the suspense. Knowing his dramatic ass, he probably does. âI got up early to finish a paper, and now Iâm feeling clingy with no one to cling onto.â
You catch yourself smiling into the pillow like an idiot. He should not have this effect on you. âDonât you live with a thousand other men.â
âJust four actually.â His chuckle echoes, and you can picture his bright teeth a little too easily. âAnd youâd be surprised at how busy they all are. Well, apart from Jiji. Heâs just dead.â
Youâre not surprised in the slightest Jisung is not up and about considering the state he was in last night. What a messy boy. âWhat could they possibly be doing on a Sunday morning?â
âHmm,â You imagine him swivelling in his chair in deep thought. âHaechan and Jeno are out on a double brunch date with their females, and Renjun... I actually have no idea. He doesnât like seeing me in the mornings.â
Itâs your turn to laugh. It comes out all muffled but youâre sure he can hear you. âI can see why. Also, females?â
âYeah, speaking of females, can I come see you after I submit this?â He asks, like itâs something heâs asked a thousand times before. The question itself doesn't surprise you. You could tell it was coming from miles away. Itâs just his casual tone that leaves you slightly perplexed.
âYou sound awfully comfortable asking to invade my personal space.â You flip onto your back again, phone now on your chest.
âYou didnât mind me invading your personal space last night.â How can someone be so quick witted? Damn his sexy brain.
âConsider yourself lucky youâre not in my space right now.â
âNothing lucky about that.â He whines playfully. âCâmonnnn, Iâll bring food, and sweeties, and we can watch a film. Or just talk. Or you can sleep and Iâll just watch you.â He pleads hopefully, and a little too adorable for you to hold your ground.
âCreep.â You mumble defeatedly, and itâs mostly meant for yourself, but he picks up on it judging from the little hum he lets out, like he agrees.
You wonder if this man has ever had anyone tell him no in the past. If so, youâd like to ask them for advice.
When you hear his knock, you have just about finished putting fresh clothes on after your shower, your hair is still wet, and the taste of toothpaste too strong in your mouth.
Ever so punctual, there he is, leaning against your doorframe when you swing the door open. He doesnât look as fresh and bright as he sounded on the phone, the tiredness evident in his eyes, but somehow, he looks even more handsome like this. You notice youâre matching, both wearing hoodies with your universityâs logo printed on them, his grey sweatpants mirroring yours.
âWell, this is uncanny.â He speaks first, amused eyes taking in your attire the same way youâre taking in his.
âCome in before I change my mind.â You step aside to let him inside, unable to fight your smile when he takes off his shoes without you having to ask.
âIâm here now, no need to be so aggy.â He says with a reassuring pout you never fail to question. Because how does a grown man so masculine act so feminine and cutesy without a care in the world.
âWe can chill in here, Winterâs at her boyfriendâs for the day.â You dismiss his antics and lead the way towards the small living room space you and your flatmate share. âWeâve got Netflix and Disney plus.â
He gasps, making you turn to look at him. âSo we can watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians?â
âAbsolutely not.â You deadpan. You refuse to watch something that will most likely obliterate your already barely functioning brain cells.
âBlue planet then?â He drops the takeout bags on your coffee table and you can see thereâs a huge bag of Skittles and a pack of fresh cookies on top of the boxes. You try not to laugh at the thought of him standing in a bakery waiting to buy overpriced treats. As funny as it is, you canât help but find it incredibly endearing too.
âSo itâs either brainrot or full-on intellectuality with you.â You nod in fake approval.
âIf you have beef with sir David Attenborough, Iâm afraid I canât invest in this.â He protests but still plops down on your sofa and snatches the TV remote off the table like he owns the place.
âInvest in what exactly?â You narrow your eyes at the ballsy statement, and he side-eyes you in return, brows lifting like the answer is self-explanatory. âAlso, I donât think anyone has beef with David Attenborough.â
âWise.â He keeps his attention on the screen as he scrolls through Netflix, and suddenly you feel like youâre intruding in your own home. âI knew you were wifey material.â
The eye-roll is inevitable when you head for the kitchen to get water. Not because his silly comment offended you. But because it should have.
Itâs maybe halfway through the first episode that you and Jaemin both have devoured your bowls of pho noodles and he quickly reaches for the cookies.
He offers you the box with a sweet smile, as if saying âdo the honoursâ.
You instantly shake your head. âIâm too full.â
He pouts stubbornly, like youâve offended him and confused him at the same time. âWanna share one?â He asks, eyes big and full of hope and so unfairly pretty. And you canât find it in you to deny him a second time.
âYeah, fine, Iâll do half.â
âYay.â
You observe him as he tears the lid off, carefully picks a cookie like itâs an important decision, and then splits it in two. You notice how cautious he is not to drop any crumbs on the blanket youâre sharing, keeping his hands above the container thatâs resting now on his lap. You only realise youâre smiling when he offers you the slightly bigger half, and if he's noticed, he doesnât comment on it, just waits patiently for you to take a bite, whales and dolphins forgotten in the background.
When the second episode starts, you realise you and Jaemin have barely exchanged any words since he stepped foot in your apartment. The silence hasnât felt awkward at any point, but you canât deny itâs a slightly unusual dynamic.
His newfound restlessness makes up for it, however.
You donât say anything when you feel him staring, but you also canât hide the little twitch of your mouth. And you know he notices when he shuffles a tiny bit closer, not enough to close the distance between you, but enough for you to get a whiff of his clean boyish scent. A chuckle brews in your chest but only escapes when he gently tugs on the blanket, trying to get your attention in a way that doesnât require words.
Heâs yet to tear his persistent eyes off you, probably amused by the deeper shade of your burning cheeks, so you bring your knees up to your chest, along with the hem of the blanket, seeking for cover. Your hand blindly reaches over to his side, fingers poking into his cheek, forcing his attention back on the TV, at which he shamelessly giggles. You donât manage to retrieve your arm as he swiftly but so gently takes hold of your wrist and tugs the same way he did with the blanket, a subtle request for you to move into his space.
Itâs way too easy. Just like most things in his life it seems. And as easily as you give in, it doesnât feel wrong. Not when you so comfortably allow yourself to curl into his side. Not when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and lets you snuggle closer. Not when your cheek squishes against his chest, ear right above his steady heartbeat. Not when you feel his nose nudge you on the forehead. And definitely not when you hear his little sigh of relief.
You could pretend it doesnât mean anything. You could just blame it on the tiredness and the fact that youâre both slightly hungover from last night. You could just be two people who casually ended up cuddling on the sofa while watching a documentary about creatures of the ocean. But the way your heart speeds up defies that. Just as easily as you fell into his arms just now.
âYou smell nice.â He murmurs, the contentment in his voice and body language difficult to not make you feel warm and fuzzy too.
âSo do you.â You slip, not really meaning to admit that youâve been having the same thought. âHope you donât use one of those three in one shampoos that could kill a Victorian child.â
His chest vibrates under you, his loud sneaker making you laugh along. He lets his weight sink further into the cushions, moving you with him. âThatâs actually offensive. I take my skincare very seriously.â His fingers threading through your hair make you feel woozy, goosebumps prickling on your nape, accompanied by a little shiver, which unfortunately doesnât go unnoticed by Jaemin. âAww,â He coos, hand repeating the action, this time lightly scratching your scalp. âThatâs so cute, you like head scratches.â
âIâm not a fucking dog.â You grumble, with no intention of pulling away from his soothing touch.
âHmm, I don't know,â He trails sceptically, fingers now scratching at the crown of your head, coaxing you further into drowsiness. âYou are kind of like a puppy at times. All bark no bite.â
You nuzzle deeper into his neck, allowing your eyes to shut. âI bite when necessary.â
âIâm in deep shit right now if youâre a vampire.â
You let out a lazy giggle, hand tugging on his hoodie to reveal more of his neck. âYeah, I could so easily eat you.â
âSexy.â He says in a playful tone. âDoubt Iâll taste as good as you did last night.â
Youâre weak. So fucking weak.
What the fuck are you even meant to say to that? And why did the words make your toes curl? Youâve been trying so hard not to let your mind wander to last nightâs events, and not because youâre ashamed or embarrassed. Quite the opposite.
It would be wise to swerve the subject. Hell, it would be easier to pretend youâre asleep. But whereâs the fun in that? Why miss the opportunity to see him squirm a little?
âI mean...â You hook your fingers over his neckline teasingly, before letting them trail upwards, your knuckles grazing his skin; first his neck, then the opposite side of his jaw, where your palm settles. âWe couldâve found out last night if you hadnât jizzed in your pants like a teenager.â
Silence. Even his breathing stops. Youâre almost starting to worry youâve pushed too far. And maybe you have. But his hand in your hair tightening and then pulling, even though harsh, it reassures you he's fallen face first into your trap. And a breathless laugh slips out when he forces you to look at him. The wicked smile on his face does something to your tummy.
âWe could find out now.â He suggests. So predictable.
âI thought you wanted to watch Blue Planet.â You pout just like he would if he had the upper hand. Just like he did last night. Condescendingly.
His hold on your hair loosens, giving you leeway to bring your face closer to his, hand still cradling his jaw when you give him a very quick kiss on the cheek. You sense the hesitancy in his actions, both hands hovering close, but not properly touching you anymore.
âYou okay?â You ask with genuine concern, urging him to look at you, not used to this demeanour from him.
âYeah,â He nods quickly, arm settling around your waist in no time. âIâm justâ I donât want you to think that I came over forâŚâ
âI don't.â You hold his face with both your hands, thumbs stroking his soft cheeks, a little rosy now.
His tiny nod makes your stomach do a flip. âOkay, good.â He nods again, more to himself this time, like heâs fighting an internal conflict. âLike, I know you mightâve heard things, and you probably think I just wanna get in your pants, but I swear I donâtâ I mean, obviously, I do, but not in that way, you know?â He swallows visibly, and youâre too taken by his sudden outburst to interrupt him again. âLike, I do want you and Iâll do anything with you, but I donât want that to be the main thing. Like, yeah, sex is great and Iâm sure itâll be fire with you, but I swear I just wanted to hang out todayââ
âJaemin.â
âHm?â He looks at you with big eyes, like youâve startled him out of a trance. âSorry, Iâm rambling.â
âBreathe, please.â You lightly shake his head, in hope of knocking some sense into him and bringing him back from his spiral. âI donât know what you think Iâve heard, but I couldnât care less about idiotic rumoursââ
âNot all of it is, though.â
âOkay, and?â You straddle him abruptly, suddenly annoyed at his uncertainty. Heâs blinking up at you like he needs something heâs not sure of. Such pretty eyes. âItâs sweet that you worry about this stuff. It means you care and I like that. But I'm not one to judge people based on their past. Unless they're cheaters or misogynists.â
"I've only had one girlfriend in high school and I think women should get paid more than men." He quickly admits.
Your heart overflows with fondness at how he clutches the blanket thatâs loosely scattered around your thighs, his fingers fidgeting in an anxious manner youâve never seen from him before. Adorable.
âI know you like me, Iâm not dense.â You give into your instincts and shuffle closer, overcome with the need to have some form of direct contact, to feel his warmth. âAnd I'm absolutely fine with you wanting to get in my pants. As long as itâs not all you want.â You smile at his mouth parting, expression changing into something that resembles awe and realisation, as though youâve solved a puzzle heâs been getting tortured by.
âItâs not.â He shakes his head in denial, his hands now on your thighs, a comforting weight.
âGood.â You encourage him with an affirmative nod, the tip of your nose barely touching his. You take in his features as he shuts his eyes and inhales slowly, his chest touching yours momentarily before he exhales, and you feel the intense want to smother him in affection. âYouâre so cute.â Your lips pucker against his cheek like itâs a reflex. Like kissing his skin would scratch a long-lasting itch. âWhy are you so cute, huh?â Another smooch, a lingering one this time. âSo annoying.â
âWhy are you being sweet?â He whines, as though bothered and confused by the sudden turn in your attitude. âYouâre scaring me.â
âIâm actually very clingy behind closed doors,â You trail more kisses down his jawline, letting your tongue make contact when you reach his neck. âSo, you should be scared.â
He outright moans at the threat, or maybe at the way youâre lightly sucking on his pulse, his head tipping back to give you more space.
âMaybe youâre just bipolar.â He teases mindlessly, one hand sneaking into your hair, holding you in place, as the other drags up your thigh and stops at the small of your back, fingers ghosting over your ass, palm pressing you into him. You feel him growing under you, the subtle bulge poking you against the crease of your thigh, so you reposition your hips slightly, this time making sure youâre sitting directly on it.
âYeah, I bet your freaky ass would love it if I had a mental disorder.â You tug on his hair, your mouth now on his left clavicle, teeth grazing his skin like a warning. âYouâd probably wanna fix me.â
"Damn," He breathes out a fucked-out laugh, clearly entertained by your choice of words. âAm I that easy to read?â
âI just pay attention.â You say the words without much thought behind them, but the second they slip out, his mouth is on yours. And you give in quicker than you wouldâve allowed if it were anyone else. His hand in your hair doesnât give you much choice anyway, and neither does his tongue, swiping across your lips as he tilts your head gently. He tastes like candy and something familiar that has your mouth eagerly parting for more. The quietest of moans escaping your lungs reminds you of how much he weakens any restraint you always try to maintain.
Suddenly, ruining him seems more enticing than any other thought that occupies your mind in that moment. You could edge him enough to make him beg. Heâd like that, right? Heâd look so pretty crying.
You let him kiss you however he wants, without failing to notice how he tries to keep it languid and wet enough that it resembles the way he kissed you last night. Exactly how you told him you like to be kissed. Your tongue plays with his slowly, just like your hands slide from his neck to the zipper of his hoodie. It comes undone easily, and you canât help but slip your hands underneath, nudging the fabric off his shoulders before you indulge in giving his uncovered arms a squeeze. He reciprocates with both his hands on your ass, kneading the full flesh and urging you to move your hips against his.
âFuck,â He gasps against your mouth, his pelvis bucking off the sofa just a little, trying to get more friction when you keep your movements too slow.
âWhat do you need?â You break off the heated kiss, hands flat on his chest to hold him in place when he tries to trail after you. âIâll do it, just want you to tell me.â
You know youâre being slightly selfish, but you also canât pass on the opportunity to get him all putty and needy under you. He looks scrumptious with his cheeks all flushed, and his cute nipples poking through the white tank top heâs got under the hoodie that now hangs off his elbows. He looks so good that it feels wrong to touch him. Like you shouldnât be allowed to, but heâs somehow letting you.
Heâs fully erect now, his hard length resting a little too comfortably between your folds, proud and thick enough that you can feel the outline even through the layers of both your layers. Heâs got a look of contemplation as he stares at your connected crotches, his legs spreading further, inevitably sliding you a little upwards, and his cock brushes against your clit just right, pulling a tiny whimper out of you.
âAnything I want?â He asks innocently, bunny teeth digging into his bottom lip as he bats his eyelashes up at you. Thereâs the devilish look you know.
âMm, you gotta ask nicely first.â You match his tone, playing along whatever game heâs decided to start.
His eyes travel down, fingers slipping past your waist band just a tiny bit before letting it snap against your skin. âJust want these off.â He gestures at your bottoms.
âPanties too?â You climb off his lap to stand between his legs, already looking forward to feeling him with less layers in between.
âUp to you.â He shrugs, eyes now on your face as you slip the baggy garment down your legs, your intimate area covered by your long hoodie, that as opposed to his, is still zipped up. âActually, yeah, those too.â
You instantly raise a challenging eyebrow, head tilting in warning.
âPretty please?â He recovers quickly, sweet smile and obedient eyes making you feel giddy. He really does catch on quickly. Or maybe he just gets you too well.
The thin cotton tickles as it drags down your legs, some of your slick smearing on your knee as the seat of your underwear touches you directly. âNow, what?â
âSit back down.â He doesnât play as nice this time, and you donât really need him to. You reclaim your seat, knees on either side of his hips, but you hover, too conscious of how wet you are and how easy to stain his gray sweats are.
âIâll be real with you; those will get ruined if you keep them on.â You point your chin at his crotch, and he doesnât say a word before pulling the unnecessary barrier down, letting it rest mid-thigh. His white boxers come into view, matching his tank top, making him look like heâs about to pose for an underwear ad, if you ignore the outrageous hard-on of course.
His hands feel hot on your thighs, the pads of his fingers sinking into your skin slightly. âWigs? Please?â
âWigs?â An unexpected giggle tumbles out of you at the somewhat new but cute nickname as you lower your bare centre onto the bulge beneath you, weight completely dropping on him. The throbbing between your legs intensifies when you witness his expression go from troubled to serene, the crease between his eyebrows disappearing, shoulders dropping. Itâs like heâs just melted into the cushions, and you wish you could take a snapshot of his reaction with your brain.
âSo wet.â He whispers, eyes fixated between your thighs even though he canât see anything, and you shouldnât, but you feel bad for him, all of a sudden wanting to give him anything heâs after.
âWanna see?â You lean down, cupping his face in your palms, connecting your lips with his before he can speak. He moans against your mouth, the sound vibrating between your chests, your nipples pebbling at the needy sound. You kiss him harder in response, licking into his mouth like you need to quench an inexplicable thirst, and the more you keep kissing him, the louder he gets. One of his hands curls around the back of your neck, while the other one grabs onto your ass, forcing your hips to move.
âDonât need to,â He mumbles, teeth biting onto your bottom lip, pulling at the skin before letting it snap back into place. âCan feel you just fine.â
For some reason, in your twisted mind, that sounds hotter than him begging to see the mess between your legs. Whatâs even hotter is the fact that youâve barely done more than kiss him, barely shown any skin, yet heâs so responsive. His strained breathing goes straight to your mushy brain, his whimpers each time you grind on him sound sinful and soft at the same time. You're so lost in the heat that youâre not sure which pulse is more rigorous, the one in your chest or the one in your pussy.
âOw!â You accidentally let out a loud whine when Jaeminâs hand pulls at your hair a little too hard.
âSorry.â He laughs lightly, loosening his grip just a tad but still forcing your head back so he can start scattering kisses down your neck. The wet swipe of his hot tongue on your skin sends a shiver down your spine, hips accidentally rolling against him, exposed cunt dragging over his clothed cock, your mixed arousals seeping through the cotton, making everything slippery. Each time you grind down on him, he thrusts upwards, every movement turning into a push and pull game as his length slides between your folds just perfectly, the head nudging your clit just right.
âShit, thatâs so good.â He murmurs softly against your neck, both hands on your backside now, each one grabbing onto a cheek, guiding your rhythm whenever your hips stutter. His touch on your bare skin, tugging, squeezing, sends a bloom of fresh heat in your belly, more arousal dripping out of you and adding to the unholy mess.
âAw, you gonna cum in your undies again?â You counter in a condescending tone, not quite settled with him thinking that heâs got the upper hand here.
âI will if you want me to.â He pants, no ounce of shame detected; his dignity clearly left somewhere behind.
You halt your movements, hands moving to his chest for support as you take in his perplexed expression. âActually... Can you do something else for me?â
He nods without hesitation. âMhm.â So sweet.
You scoot back on his lap, his hands dropping to his sides as he waits for your instructions. He looks like a lost puppy, staring up at you like youâve got the solution to all his problems. And maybe you do. âTouch yourself.â
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, lips parting, his cute two front teeth poking out a tiny bit. âReally? Right now?â
âYeah.â You lean back with your hands on his knees. âWanna see.â
âFuck.â He exhales shakily. âWhy are you doing this to me?â
You catch yourself biting back a smirk at his unexpectedly shy demeanour. And you feel your heart stutter at the incredibly cute way he lifts his bum off the sofa as he shoves his briefs down, just enough to reveal whatâs hiding underneath. And holy fuck.
Itâs not just the length or the girth; itâs more the way it lightly slaps on his stomach, the tip not too far from his belly button, cute, pink and angry, the shade matching his swollen lips. It looks heavy, and you canât help but wonder how it would feel to have him inside you, stretching your snug walls more than anyone has before.
âPretty.â You mutter in awe, the word sneaking out before you can contain it.
âDid you just call my dick pretty?â He breathes out a bemused laugh.
You laugh along, more in confusion at your strange outburst of honesty, your eyebrows tensing. âYeah, I guess I did.â
You almost feel guilty for the objectifying thoughts that pollute your brain, but itâs not like thereâs much of his decorum left to preserve anyway. And how are you meant to behave yourself when he looks like heâs been plucked straight out of some sort of anime universe. Now you understand why he walks and carries himself the way he does. No one with a dick this good looking should be humble.
He wraps his fist around his twitching length, slowly teasing the head first, while his free hand reaches to grab onto your thigh. It seems more like a grounding gesture than anything else, as if he needs to be touching you somehow to stay sane. He carries a baffled expression, like he canât believe heâs actually enjoying this, but a quiet moan proves exactly that.
âWigs?â He squeezes your thigh lightly just to get your attention, obviously not aware that youâre transfixed by his every move.
âHm?â You dumbly nod, the view too precious to miss, but in the back of your mind youâre very aware of the wetness that leaks out of you and onto his bare thigh.
âCan youâ shitââ He hisses as his thumb brushes over the glistening tip. âUm, can you get it wet for me please?â
You obediently lean closer, head tipping forward so you can aim, and just like he so nicely asked, you let a long string of saliva dribble from your lips. It lands on the underside of his cock and trickles down to his fingers where heâs tightly gripping the base. He lathers the added lubrication all over his length, making the glide smoother and louder.
âBetter?â You scoot a little closer, letting your hands cradle his flushed face, and you canât help but push his messy fringe back, his sweaty forehead coming into view, dark eyebrows pinched in pleasure as he sets a steady pace; not too fast, not too slow.
âYeah.â He sighs, leaning into your touch, nuzzling into your wrist before leaving a sloppy kiss there, just above the ink on your skin. âI donât think Iâm gonna last long.â
âThatâs okay.â You encourage him with small pecks on the exposed side of his face.
âFuck, I want you.â He pants needily, shattering your heart a little.
âIâm here.â You tangle your fingers in his hair, messily kissing down his neck, comforting him through the pleasure. âWant you too.â
His head lolls back, resting against the back of the sofa, and when you feel the speeding up of his arm, you inevitably look down, drinking the sinful sight like a renaissance painting. The slit of his cockhead oozes more precum with each upward stroke, the skin is more flushed than before, veins more prominent. You study how he likes to be touched, how he focuses on the tip more, fist twisting slightly before he glides down again. A tiny spasm of his pelvis sends an intense throb to your cunt, and the accidental moan you let out seems to spur his hand into faster and less coordinated jerks.
âGonna cum.â He announces urgently, nails digging into your thigh as he starts trembling. âOh myâ fuck fuck fuck.â
You manage to lift his tank top just below his chest right before the first spurt of release paints his abs, and the second his lips part in ecstasy, you donât miss the chance to stick your tongue past them, swallowing his deep grunts with a loud and sloppy kiss. His mouth barely moves, tongue lazily poking out to lick against yours between laboured breaths, and you feel powerless not to smile at his free hand cupping your jaw weakly, even through the haze of his orgasm and his inability to kiss you back properly.
"I'm so fucked." He whines, sounding like he's in pain, and for some reason, you don't urge him to elaborate, ignoring the need to know the exact meaning behind his words as well as the heavy feeling in your stomach.
âCan I clean it up?â You mumble mid kiss, throwing his words from last night back into his face.
He kisses you harder in response, his pleased groan vibrating between you. âYeah? You wanna get on your knees for me?â
âBehave.â You let your fingers wrap around his throat in a quiet threat, though it doesnât seem to faze him in the slightest. His wicked smile only betrays enjoyment and makes you pulse around nothing, reminding you that youâve most likely drenched his thigh.
âI gave you a full on show and youâre worried about me behaving?â He presses a lingering smooch on your chin, then one on your cheek. âI think weâve established the power imbalance here, donât worry.â
What an oblivious, silly little man. He clearly has no grasp on the effect he has on you, and it couldnât get sweeter than that. What he doesnât know wonât hurt him, though, and you certainly wouldnât want his head getting any bigger. âWhatever you say.â
âWhatââ
âShush.â You shut him up with a light squeeze around his throat before swiftly sinking down to your knees between his spread legs, the carpeted floor slightly digging into your skin, but not enough to distract you. What does distract you is the mess heâs made. His fingers are now limp around the base of his softening cock, covered in his release that has somehow not reached his chest. You mentally give him points for decent aim, having experienced unwanted facials in the past. Nothing you would have minded in this case, though.
âThis feels awfully scrutinising.â He points out with a playful tilt of his head, clearly unbothered by your staring but impatient enough to kick up a fuss. âItâll dry if youâ oh shit, okay.â
His reaction is almost laughable when you lick a stripe from his balls to his tip, lapping up as much of his cum on your tongue as you can in one go and swallowing the salty essence before diving in for seconds. You teasingly suckle onto one ball, before repeating the same with the other one while intentionally letting out a moan that earns you his praise. "Fuck, you're so filthy."
You slowly blink up at him as you provocatively flatten your tongue over his coated fingers, and he gets the hint with a lustful glint in his eyes. He so willingly slips three of his salty digits past your wet lips whimpering when you eagerly slurp everything up, sliding your tongue between them before sucking hard and maintaining eye contact. You drag your mouth off with another performative moan and focus on his cock again, now replacing his hand with yours and relishing in the way he feels in your palm. Heavy, warm and overwhelmingly thick like you predicted, the skin velvety soft and slippery with your spit. So fucking perfect.
"You tryna make me hard again or what?" He rasps in most likely warranted frustration, though, his clean hand on your nape says otherwise.
âAs if youâd mind fucking my throat.â You whisper, scattering languid kisses up one side of his shaft, your lips dragging across the sensitive skin until you reach the bulbous head that almost begs for your attention.
âI wouldnât. Thatâs the problem.â His thumb strokes along your jaw, soft as ever, making you swoon, goosebumps raising along your neck and arms, your thighs rubbing for some much-needed friction.
âHowâs that a problem?â You ask innocently, glancing up at him before swirling the tip of your tongue agonisingly slowly around the shiny head, then letting your lips vacuum around it, welcoming his taste in your mouth straight from the source, like slurping on an ice lolly on the hottest day of summer.
âWeâll be here all fucking day.â He lazily laughs, wincing when you suck harder and take him a little deeper. âEasy you demon, itâs still sensitive.â
You decide to ease up on the torture and abandon his cock with one last kiss before moving onto his abs, slurping and shamelessly licking along his skin, making sure not to miss a drop of his cum. And when youâre satisfied with your work and heâs whining and squirming as you hoped, you finally resurface for air. You donât get much of it, though. His mouth quickly finds yours in a filthy battle of tongue and teeth, and you feel helpless at the thought of him moaning at his own taste. You're pretty sure there's cum smeared on your nose and chin, but he doesn't seem to give a fuck.
âBend over the table.â You feel the seriousness in his tone in your stomach, excitement, and uncertainty blooming.
âI thought we werenât fucking today.â
âWeâre not.â He confirms with a snap of his boxers back into place, covering your new favourite toy.
âSo, whyââ
âBend the fuck over, Y/N.â It sounds more like a threat, and you can tell heâs very much done with your bullshit now the blood has travelled up to his brain again. You also donât miss the lack of a cutesy nickname this time. And youâre positive your name has never sounded sexy in a manâs mouth before. And so, you hold back on the questions this time and do as youâre told, curious and eager to find out what his dominant side entails.
The yelp you let out when he manhandles you abruptly almost sounds animated. Your front is pressed against the wooden surface of the coffee table you remember purchasing from Ikea about a year ago, and your remaining layers are shoved up, now resting just below your tits as Jaemin hovers behind you on his knees.
"So pretty like this," He praises as he slots between your legs, easily probing them apart, and you suddenly feel incredibly exposed with your backside and pussy out in the open air. "Knew your ass would be a fuckin' dream."
âJaem?â You call for him more desperately than you intend, arching your back a little to tempt him more.
âYeah?â He whispers above you, running his hands over the dip of your waist and down to your hips. So gently you feel your eyes getting heavy. He's then gathering both your hands at the small of your back, hold loose around your wrists but it's enough to make a point. Enough to leave you aching and helpless.
âPlease do something.â You try to sound serious, but the whiny edge in your voice slips through regardless as you waggle your hips in desperation. "My clit feels like it's about to explode."
âAwh,â He coos with a satisfied laugh, his chest now flush against your back, radiating warmth as his lips leave a trail of tiny kisses from your temple down to your ear. "Needy baby.
He gently sucks on the lobe before letting his tongue tease the shell and then your helix piercing, all while his free hand sneaks around you and down to the apex of your thighs. Youâre so worked up and sensitive, even a light swipe of his fingers across your swollen nub makes you squirm, arms fighting his firm hold off fruitlessly.
âShhh, be good.â He instructs, voice steady with a sultry edge to it, sending more sparks through your body. Your nipples are so erect and tingly against the hard surface, they almost hurt with need for attention.
Your pathetic mewl resembles a cry that sounds offending to your pride. So much that you manage to piss yourself off. âStop playing games with me, you prick.â
You feel him falter for a second, and then he taps on your pussy lips in warning, halting any movement from your pelvis. âThatâs rich coming from you.â His two middle fingers, the ones you earlier had your lips wrapped around, prod at your weeping entrance before he runs them up and down your slit, spreading your slick down to your clit where he focuses his attention after a couple more teasing strokes. âBeen fucking with my head since day one.â He admits openly, the honesty sitting heavy in your guts, making your lungs malfunction as he slowly swirls his fingers around the bundle of nerves. Too delicately. So much that it feels like the wickedest game of edging. So much that your pussy contracts around emptiness.
âYouâve known for a while now, havenât you?â He whispers against your neck, and you aimlessly try to suppress your cries when the circles on your clit become a little harsher than you can handle, the heat in your belly begging for a release that approaches shockingly fast. âThat Iâm obsessed with you.â
The feeling is euphoric, almost overwhelming in a way you canât explain. You could swear itâs the infatuation his voice drips with that clouds your senses more than the intensity of the unexpected orgasm itself. âOh my god, what the fuck.â
âYouâre doing so good.â He murmurs, clearly affected as he releases your hands and brings a safe arm around you, grounding you through every little spasm of your muscles, the strokes on your pulsing nub still precise and relentless, even as your legs tremble with oversensitivity. âThatâs it, baby.â
âPlease, I canât cum again.â You feel tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming pleasure. âI feel likeââ Youâre spluttering nonsense along with weak sobs as your cunt keeps clenching around nothing, dripping slick down your inner thighs. âAhâ!â
Youâre pulled upright without warning, clearly losing a battle youâre not even fighting as you let Jaemin drag you with him on the floor, positioning you between his spread legs as he leans against the sofa with a strong arm slung across your torso like a seat belt.
âLegs up.â He instructs promptly, clearly not in the mood to hover, and the second your knees are bent and far apart, you donât even have time to accommodate your body in the new position before two of his fingers find their way in your sopping hole this time, the stretch intense but somehow delightful.
âShit, Jaemâ wait!â You exclaim in utter shock at the unexpected intrusion, your walls fluttering around his nimble digits.
âDoes it hurt?â His fingers stay hooked inside you, tickling a deep spot that only you can normally find this quickly, but he stops moving at your distress.
âNo, just â just give me a sec.â You lean back in his embrace, melting against the warmth of his chest, head limply resting on his shoulder while he drapes his arm over your sternum, hand finding its way to your jaw, urging you to turn your head and meet his dark eyes, full of want and hues of brown you hadn't noticed before.
âYouâre so pretty.â He mumbles sweetly, lips brushing against yours before delivering a soft peck that makes your stomach flutter along with your stuffed pussy. âYou like it when I talk to you?â
You can sense the teasing lilt, but you nod anyway, not having the backbone to talk back when heâs got you spread out all to himself. And now you hope he knows thereâs no point talking about power imbalance when just a few words of praise and a slow drag of his fingers against your walls have you suffocating. Your legs are already fighting to stay open when slow strokes gradually turn into short jabs against your g-spot, and gentle pecks turn into lazy open-mouthed kisses that leave you both breathless.
The fact that he's using the same hand he pleasured himself with to get you off, tickles your brain in ways you didn't think possible, making your insides feel funny. And you find yourself wanting to shake your next thought out of your lust-clouded head. I shouldn't have sucked his fingers clean. Are you really that twisted? Wishing a man would fuck his cum in you? Na Jaemin of all men?
âMâso close.â You pant into his mouth when you feel the tight bubble of tension in your tummy threatening to burst for the second time, only not as quick as before.
âYeah?â He drags his hand to your neck, fingers tightening like a necklace over your pulse points. âGonna cum for me?â
âUh-huh.â You absentmindedly let your tongue brush against his bottom lip, and he eagerly sucks it in his mouth while the obscene squelching of his hand ruining your pussy echoes around the quiet room.
âFuck, how are you so wet?â He moans, adding momentum in the motions of his wrist, fingers now pistoning in and out of you, palm faintly slapping against your folds. Just when you're about to say you need more, he buries his fingers deep and crooks them along the curve of your front wall, rubbing against your sweet spot and pulling an incoherent exclaim of astonishment from you. His thumb starts rapidly flicking up and down, stimulating your needy clit just the right amount, and when you glance down, catching a glimpse of the sinful sight â him pleasuring you like it's a mission â itâs game over for you.
âShit, shit, shit I'mââ Your mouth parts in a silent squeak, head tilting back in eye-rolling pleasure that feels too good for your sanity to stay intact. You feel the thick arousal trickling down to your ass as Jaeminâs fingers keep pressing upwards through the constricting of your throbbing walls. Your hips uncontrollably stutter with the little aftershocks of pleasure that he forces out of you, and you realise how tightly your hands are clutching on his thighs, nails clawing onto the cotton of his sweats as you hang on by a thread.
âSo fucking hot.â He mumbles against your temple, his breath warming your already heated face as he slowly drags his fingers out of your still lightly pulsating opening. He coos when you wince at the emptiness, his hot palm resting over your folds in a delicate and oddly comforting manner. âYou good?â
You close your legs around his hand, trapping him there as you try to get your lungs to regain proper function. You manage to hum with a weak nod, already aware of the sweat dripping down the side of your face. âI feel like I need another shower.â
âNuh-uh,â He keeps his free arm wrapped around your shoulders as he gently rocks you side to side, slowly bringing you back down from the clouds. "Wanna cuddle you.â
You let out a long sigh of contentment, already feeling too exhausted as you descend from cloud nine, and a little too smitten to deny him anything. "I suppose we can cuddle."
"It's so cute that you're still trying to act all mean." He giggles cutely before sucking onto the apple of your cheek, making you whine in disgust at the slobber he leaves on your skin.
"Ew! That's gross, youâ"
He kisses you on the wet patch he just left, laughing at the way you try to swat him away. You can't help the giddiness that blossoms in your chest, hating how weak you feel for his odd ways of affection.
"Oh, no! We forgot about Blue Planet!" He exclaims in fake distress, finally ending the wet torture he was putting your cheek through.
A breathless laugh erupts from your chest when you glance at the forgotten TV, Netflix somehow aware of your distraction as the screen reads in big letters: Are you still watching?
The documentary has long since faded into the background. The snacks are half-finished. The blanket is messily draped on the floor.
Somewhere between pho, cookies, and whatever the hell just happened, the day has slipped away from you. And for the first time, the thought of Jaemin leaving feels a little unbearable.
Not just tonight. But eventually.
Because while you've spent the last few months trying not to think too hard about Na Jaemin, time hasn't exactly stopped moving.
You're only half a semester away from his graduation. From whatever big plans he's got for his future and from him becoming someone you'll no longer rely on to make shifts feel a little less monotonous and a little more chromatic.
Half a semester away from watching him walk out of your life just as easily as he barged into it.
Part two coming soon... <3
cookie's note: for the love of GAWD take my laptop away from me i almost went insane writing this đđŤ i hope it's what people wanted/hoped for and if not then don't tell me bc i will dead ass cry haha im so serious haha pls don't be mean like oc, i'm not like jaemin!! i will only accept loveeee!! part two is still in the wips but i'm hoping it won't take as long as part one (god forbid). as always pls pls pls share your thoughts with me!! i love interacting with ya'll and reading your reactions! ILY đ¤
đŠââ¤ď¸âđâđŠ i'd also like to give an honourary mention to my beloved wife @withlovemark who read this before i posted it and shared her honest thoughts with me when i was in desperate need of a helping hand (also guys, you didn't hear it from me but i think she likes jaemin a lil too much if you ask me.... not jel or anything... just saying...)đ
⨠ps. pls spare me some liquid love on kofi if you liked this story help a girlie out i'm so broke and i need to book a flight home đ§đźââď¸
a stab on my chest would've been way less painful than this you know.
NO BUT SERIOUSLY THE SLOW BURN ALMOST FUCKING KILLED ME (IN A GOOD WAY I BELIEVE ) AND THEIR FREAKING BANTERS ARE JUST OOF CHEFS KISS . CHEMISTRY SO GOOD IT'S ABOUT TO EXPLODE BUT ALSO YOU MIGHT AS WELL JUST SHOOT ME RATHER THAN ENDING IT RIGHT. THERE. I WILL REALLY CRY AS SOON AS I HIT SEND. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THO PLS I ALWAYS LOOK FORWARD TO READING YOUR WORKS AND WHEN I DO THEY NEVER FAIL ME đŹ ALL SORTS OF EMOTIONS ACTIVATED. I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO SLEEP WELL JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR DAYS. I AM GONNA BE RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE GATE UNTIL THE NEXT ONE DROPS ISTG i love them both so so so much i only wish happiness for them :(((
ok gonna be a lot more serious now tho idk what exact word(s) to say but the way you wrote these two characters oh, so well that i could feel and relate to either or both of them it's just so incredible my love... it's like i'm also right there with either of them slowly but surely learning about each other .... i wish i could be as good at expressing my thoughts with words as you are so i hope what i truly felt when reading this could reach across you :')
a/n: please do not read if uncomfy! majority of this has no direct contact between mc and haechan (yet). it does have a part 2 but still a wip hehe.
The set is dimly lit, all soft reds and blacks, the kind of lighting that makes skin glow like itâs already slick. Cameras positioned, crew quiet, air thick with the industrial sweetness of lube, latex, and the faint, metallic tang of sweat and adrenalineâthough here, itâs not so much anticipation as it is tedium, everyone waiting for the next instruction, the next cut.
Haechan is perched in his directorâs chair like alwaysâlegs spread, arms crossed, black hoodie up, expression is half-lidded, mouth slack, utterly unruffled. Bored as fuck.
He likes to watch the scene as a whole, not the parts: the shudder of a shoulder, the matched arch of spines, the geometry of bodies weaving a single shape. Thereâs no eroticism to it anymore, at least not for him. If he feels anything, itâs the dull, satisfying click of a puzzle piece snapping into place.
Hundreds of scenes, maybe a thousand, have blurred together since he started this job. Heâs watched every way a person can cum, and half the ways a person can fake it. He has memorized the pitch and cadence of moans, the difference between a real orgasm and a theatrical one, and the precise windowâusually less than three minutesâbefore a boner becomes a liability on camera
His discipline is legendary; heâs never popped wood on set, not even once, not even when he was nineteen and the girls were all older and he had something to prove. Heâs immuneâa fucking monk
To him, porn stopped being exciting years ago. Itâs just product now. Lighting. Framing. Sellable shots.
So today is supposed to be like any other. The schedule says: opening vignette, oral, first position, second position, cumshot, credits. The contract talent are already running lines and limbering up in the green room. Thereâs nothing on the call sheet that reads as unusual.
But then you walk onto set.
Youâre newâhe knows this before you even speak.
Youâre the new girl, and itâs obvious. Everything about the way you standâtowel wrapped tight enough to choke arterial flow, eyes darting, breath lost somewhere in your chestâscreams âfirst real gig.â No fake lashes, no caked-on foundation, no stage persona yet to hide inside. Just you, raw and exposed, skin already flushing from the robe drop and the sudden attention of three different lenses, each click and whirr doubling your nerves.
The sceneâs supposed to be ânatural couple, first time,â but the male leadâsome generic, muscle-thick dude with a jaw you could sand plywood onâhas all the sexual chemistry of a dishrag.
You think his name might be Chad? Whatever. He doesnât even pretend to care. Heâs flipping through his phone right up to the second âplaces, everyone,â gets called, barely glancing your way except to ask if youâre âtight with overs or can you take a big zoom.â You have no idea what that means, so you just nod, and he laughs without looking up.
When the camera rolls, Chadâs hands come at youâtoo fast, all palm, no finesse. Itâs like heâs using your clit as a joystick: sharp, dry, mechanical. The friction stings. You keep waiting for him to notice youâre not⌠primed. He doesnât.
You try to smile, a tiny âIâm good, keep goingâ nod, but itâs not in your voice yet. Youâre tryingâGod, youâre tryingâYour hips roll, hoping to catch a better angle, your own fingers twitching at your side, desperate to take over. Gasps, soft and uncertain, slip from your lips; you keep pitching your lines higher, like maybe you can sell it if you play the wide-eyed ingenue and act surprised by touch itself, but itâs obvious itâs not hitting right.
The crew is silent, but not out of respect. You can feel the collective disappointment in the air, a staleness that grows with each awkward grin. You catch the boom guyâs reflection in the glass; he looks like heâs holding his breath, his mouth twisted in a grimace like heâs physically pained by how forced it all sounds.
The camera operator is already bored, drinking his coffee with one hand while the other steers the gimbal dutifully back and forth. The only person actually watching is the director, Haechan, who hasnât blinked for what feels like five minutes.
Youâve heard a dozen rumors about himâstrict, never smiles, hates ad-libs, will shut down a scene if the lighting is off by half a stop. But heâs never once yelled, never once embarrassed talent in front of the crew. He just sits there, hoodie up, one knee bouncing, hands clenched on his clipboard. Judging by the little twitch in his jaw and the way his pencil is slowly being crushed into splinters, this is not the performance he wanted.
Chad misses his mark again, hand slipping, and you yelp, an ugly real sound through the room like a burst of microphone feedback.
Haechanâs jaw ticks.
âCut,â he snaps, voice sharper than usual. The crew freezes.
Every head in the room snaps upâboom guy, focus puller, even the veteran makeup artist, whoâs been boredly lint-rolling pubes off the sheets for the last twenty minutes. Chad, the male talent, straightens up like a scolded puppy, dick bobbing stupidly.
Haechan rises from his seat slowly. The room suddenly feels smaller. The whole crew tries to look busy, but everyoneâs watching him from the corners of their eyes.
He crosses the set in three long strides, he doesnât bother with the fake set stairsâjust swings one leg up onto the platform and steps directly into the âbedroom,â the mock-up of a midcentury hotel suite theyâll probably tear down by tomorrow.
Haechan steps right up to the mattress, looming at the edge, and for a second you think heâs going to just call itâwrap early and go home. But then he looks down at you.
You stayed at your position: sprawled on the sheets, hair a mess already, thighs parted. Your skin is sticky with the glycerin spray they use to make people look âjust-fucked.â Your chest rises and falls fast.
âMove,â he tells Chad, low, no room for argument. Chad scrambles off the bed.
Haechan doesnât sit where Chad was. He remains standing at the edge, close enough that you can smell his cologneâsomething expensive and dark, undercut with the faint salt of skin.
He doesnât touch you. Not directly.
Instead he reaches for Chadâs hand. The one that was just pawing, ineptly, at your clit, dry and imprecise and barely tolerable. Haechanâs fingers close around Chadâs wrist. His grip is gentle but absolute. Chad doesnât even try to resist.
Then, with infinite patience, he starts to move Chadâs fingers over your clit, guiding it in slow, deliberate circles. He moves it exactly the way you like it; not pressing hard, just... teasing. Perfect pressure. Lazy figure-eights that make your hips twitch involuntarily. Just shy of too gentle, slow enough to make you ache.
âLike this,â Haechan says, and his voice is all gravel and velvet, the kind of voice you can feel in your spine. Haechanâs eyes never leave yours.
You bite your lip. Hard. Trying not to whimper.
You try not to react. âI am a professional. I am being paid for this.â you thought. But your body doesnât get the memo.
Heat lances through your core, pooling there, making your thighs tense and your toes curl against the sheets. You force your breath to stay even, but it helps nothing. Haechanâs gaze is a hand all by itself, pinning you to the bed, and your body starts to betray you: nipples tightening, hips rocking up, a sound leaking out that was never in the script.
He watches all of it. His pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the brown of his irises.
He's still guiding Chad's fingers under his, but it might as well be his hand. The rhythm is his. The control is his. Every tiny hitch in your breath, every flutter of your lashesâhe sees it. Drinks it.
Chadâs breathing gets weird and shallow, but Haechan doesnât even acknowledge him. Chad might as well be a prop nowâa toy in the directorâs hand, moving exactly the way Haechan wants.
Seconds stretch. Haechan keeps Chadâs rhythm brutally consistent, never speeding up, never varying, until your entire lower body is shaking. You want to close your eyes, to escape the intensity, but you canât look away from Haechan.
You donât dare make a sound. You do anyway.
Itâs a soft, broken whine. It feels like being split open under stage lights. You canât remember the camera or the crew. Itâs just you and him and the steady, inescapable pressure building inside your skull.
Youâre trembling now. Not acting. Not really. The way Haechanâs guidingâprecise, patient, almost tender in its cruelty.
Haechanâs throat bobs. Once. Hard.
He leans in just a fractionâenough that his breath ghosts over your knee.
âBetter?â he murmurs. Itâs quiet, like itâs meant only for you.
You nod. Barely. Eyes glassy.
Thereâs the tiniest smile at the corner of his mouth before he finally releases Chadâs hand. Chad stumbles a little, like heâs forgotten how to stand on his own, but Haechan has already forgotten him.
âGood girl,â he says, so soft itâs almost sweet. Then louder, to the crew: âReset. Weâre going again. And Chadââ He finally looks at the guy. âWatch. Learn.â
Haechan steps back to his chair. Sits. Crosses one leg over the other.
But under the table, out of frame, he has to adjust himself. Discreet. Jaw clenched.
Heâs trying for nonchalance, but his faceâso carefully neutral a minute agoâis barely holding together.
Because fuck. Â
Heâs so hard it hurts.
And he knowsâdeep in his gutâthat this scene isnât going to end with just one take.
Not with you looking at him like that.
The cameras roll again. Reset. Lights adjusted just soâsoft, warm, flattering. The room hums with low chatter from the crew, but Haechanâs world has narrowed to one thing: you.
Heâs back in his chair, legs spread wide like always, one elbow on the armrest, chin in his hand. To anyone watching, he looks the sameâcool, detached, the veteran whoâs seen every angle, every fake orgasm, every scripted moan.
Except right now, his pulse is hammering in his throat.
Chadâs back between your legs, trying again. Better this timeâsort of. Heâs following the rhythm Haechan drilled into him earlier, but itâs still mechanical. Predictable. Your body responds anyway because youâre a professional (or trying to be), arching just enough, lips parting on soft, breathy sounds that hit Haechan like a punch.
He watches your faceâthe way your brows knit when the pressure builds, the flutter of your lashes when it almost tips over, the way your mouth falls open on a silent gasp before the sound actually escapes. Those little, real reactions. The ones no one else notices because theyâre too busy staring at tits or ass or whatever the money shot demands.
But Haechan notices.
He notices everything.
âCamera two, tight on her face,â he calls out, voice steady even though his grip on the armrest is white-knuckled. âCapture the eyes. The lips. Make it intimate. Sheâs the starâsell that.â
The operator nods, zooms in. Haechanâs gaze flicks to the monitor feed beside himâyour expression filling the screen in high def. Cheeks flushed, pupils dark, lips swollen from biting them. Every tiny hitch, every shiver.
Your eyes flicker to him.
Just once at first. Quick. Like youâre checking if heâs still watching.
He is.
Always.
You hold it this time. Longer. Your gaze locks with his across the dimly lit setâthrough the haze of lights and lenses and bodies moving around. Itâs not acting. Not really. Thereâs heat in it. Question. Challenge. Need.
Haechan doesnât blink.
His jaw flexes. He shifts in the chairâsubtle, but fuck, the friction against his straining cock makes his vision white out for a second. He forces himself still. Professional. In control.
âSlow it down,â he directs, quieter now, almost to himself. âChadâtease. Donât rush. Let her build.â
Chad obeys. Your hips roll up instinctively, chasing the touch. A soft whimper slips outâreal, brokenâand Haechanâs breath catches audibly. He covers it with a cough, but his free hand drops to his thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Anything to stop himself from palming over his jeans right here, right now, in front of the whole crew.
Your eyes find him again. This time they stay. Glassy. Pleading. Like youâre performing for him. Not the camera. Not the future viewers. Him.
He swallows thickly. Leans forward just a fraction.
âCamera oneâlower angle on her thighs,â he says, voice rougher. âShow the tremble. The way sheâs shaking for it.â
The shot changes. Your legs part a little more, muscles quivering under soft skin. Another sound escapes youâhigher, needierâand Haechanâs control frays another inch.
Heâs never been this hard on set. Never this invested. Never this fucking gone.
You arch again, head tipping back, but your eyes snap right back to his like a magnet. Your lips part around a silent word that hits him like a physical blowâhis name, unmistakable even from here, the shape of those syllables burning into his retinas.
He exhales through his nose. Slow. Controlled.
âGood,â he murmurs, low enough that only he himself can hear it. âJust like that. Keep looking at me.â
He draws in a slow breath, like heâs trying to breathe around something lodged in his ribs.
And he knowsâdeep in his gut, where logic has already left the buildingâthat this isnât just a scene anymore.
This isnât normal.
Heâs directed hundreds of girls. Thousands of takes.
But this is different.
Youâre not performing at the camera.
Youâre looking at him.
And the worst partâthe part that makes something tighten low in his stomachâis that he doesnât want you to stop.
Thatâs the problem.
---
The break is shortâfive minutes, tops. Just enough time for the crew to stretch, grab water, reset lights that donât actually need resetting. Haechan uses it to pull you aside, away from the main set, into the little curtained-off âgreen roomâ corner thatâs really just a folding chair and a folding table with bottled water and a half-eaten box of donuts.
He leans against the wall, arms crossed, hoodie a bit low over his eyes like heâs trying to hide how intently heâs looking at you. Professional. Always professional.
âHey,â he starts, voice low so no one else hears. âYouâre doing good out there. Really good. But listenâI know this industry chews people up if they push too hard. Especially the first few shoots.â
You nod, heart already doing that stupid flutter thing because heâs actually talking to you like a person, not just talent.
He drags one hand across his jaw, the shadow of stubble catching on his palm. âLookâI know itâs your first real set. This place, the lights, being so exposed. Itâs a lot. The crewâs always more intense than you expect. They can beâŚâ He shrugs, searching for the word, âoverstimulating. Even when they donât mean to.â He looks up, and for a split second, you could swear you see his mouth tighten, like heâs angry on your behalf.
You nod, because heâs rightâit is a lot. Your body is still humming, not from what Chad did, but from the before and the after, from the fact that you can still feel Haechanâs eyes on you from across the room, even now.
He licks his lips, eyes flicking to your face, then quickly away. âI know the expectation isââ He gestures, vague, like he canât be bothered to say the words âorgasmâ or âsquirtingâ out loud.
âYou donât have to cum for real every take,â he continues, eyes flicking over your face like heâs reading a script heâs memorized. âFake it. Sell the build-up, the tremble, the little gaspsâmost viewers canât tell the difference anyway. And honestly? Forcing it every time strains your pelvis like hell. Iâve seen girls limping off set after a long day. Donât do that to yourself.â
Your breath catches. Heâs⌠thoughtful? Actually concerned? Youâve heard horror stories about directors who donât give a fuck, who just yell âharderâ until someone cries. But here he is, warning you about your own body like he cares if you walk out of here okay.
He must say this to every new actress, right? Standard protocol. Still, the way heâs looking at youâsoft around the edges, almost gentleâmakes your stomach flip.
âAnd if anything hurts,â he adds, quieter now, âeven a little. You tell me. We stop. No questions. Got it?â
You swallow. Nod again. âGot it.â
He gives you the tiniest smileâjust a twitch at the corner of his mouthâthen pushes off the wall. âGood. Take two in a bit. Drink some water.â
He walks away first, leaving you standing there with your pulse in your throat and a sudden, embarrassing rush of warmth between your legs.
Because fuck. Â
He noticed. He cared. And now all you can think about is his voice saying âtell meâ and âstopâ like heâd actually listen, like heâd protect you mid-scene if you needed it.
By the time they call action again, youâre already slick. Not from Chadâs earlier fumbling. Nope. It was from Haechanâs five-minute pep talk. From the way his eyes lingered when he said âgood.â From imagining what it would feel like if those careful, controlled hands were the ones touching you instead.
Chad slides back between your thighs, condom on, positioning himself. You spread a little wider, trying to look natural for the three cameras positioned around the bed.
He pushes in slowâstandard porn entry shot, nothing special.
But your brain short-circuits.
You picture Haechan instead.
The way heâd hold your hips steady. The way heâd watch your face the whole time, cataloging every twitch like he did earlier. The low, wrecked murmur of âjust like thatâ right against your ear. The way heâd probably tease you firstâslow rolls, shallow thrustsâuntil you were begging without words.
Chad moves. Steady. Mechanical. Like a metronome with abs.
You close your eyes for a second. Imagine itâs Haechanâs weight pressing you down. Haechanâs breath on your neck. Haechanâs cock stretching you, filling you, owning every gasp.
Your body reacts before your mind can catch up.
The coil tightens fastâtoo fast. Heat rushes low, thighs trembling for real this time. Your nails dig into the sheets. A broken whimper slips out, unscripted. Your thighs lock around Chad's waist so hard he grunts in surprise.
Chad keeps going, oblivious.
But across the set, Haechan freezes.
Heâs watching the monitor, jaw slack for half a second before he recovers. Your eyes find his through the hazeâglassy, desperateâand you donât look away.
You come.
Hard.
For real.
Waves crashing through you, back arching off the bed, a choked sob of his name almost escaping before you bite it back.
Your walls flutter and clench around Chad (poor Chad), but behind your eyelids it's Haechan youâre seeing. It's Haechan destroying you, itâs Haechan youâre coming for.
The cameras keep rolling.
Haechanâs hand shoots upâsilent signal to keep shootingâbut his other fist is clenched so tight on the armrest the knuckles are bone-white. His breathing is shallow. Visible. Heâs staring like heâs forgotten how to blink.
âCut,â he finally rasps, voice wrecked. Too late. The takeâs already gold.
The crew starts clappingâthinking itâs great acting.
Youâre still trembling, aftershocks rolling through you, thighs slick, heart hammering.
Haechan doesnât clap.
He just watches you.
And when your eyes meet againâpost-orgasm haze and allâthereâs no pretending anymore.
He knows.
You know he knows.
And the look on his face says this shoot just changed everything.
---
The set lights dim one by one, the crew packing up with the usual post-shoot chatterâsomeone laughing about how the take was âmoney,â another clapping you on the shoulder with a genuine âFirst gig and you killed it, girl. Natural. Weâre booking you again for sure.â Chad gives you a fist bump and a wink that feels oddly hollow now. You smile, thank them, heart still racing from the aftershocks, thighs sticky under the robe youâve hastily tied.
You glance toward Haechanâs chair.
Itâs empty.
Heâs already gone.
No goodbye, no âgood work,â no lingering look like before. Just⌠vanished. The director whoâd been staring holes through you for hours suddenly canât even meet your eyes on the way out.
The disappointment hits sharper than it should. You tell yourself itâs nothingâheâs busy, heâs a pro, he probably does this every shoot. But the ache between your legs pulses in protest, like your body knows better.
Meanwhile, across the city, Haechan barely makes it through his apartment door.
Keys clatter on the floor. He doesnât bother with lights. The hallway is dark, just the faint blue glow from the streetlamp outside bleeding through the blinds. He kicks the door shut behind him, back slamming against it for a second as he drags in a ragged breath.
His cock is still painfully hardâhas been since that last take, since your real, broken orgasm rolled through you while staring straight at him. The memory is burned behind his eyelids: your lashes fluttering, lips parted on that choked little sound, the way your hips jerked like you couldnât help it, like it was *him* making you come apart.
âFuck,â he hisses, already fumbling with his belt.
He doesnât even get the jeans all the way down.
They catch at mid-thigh, boxers shoved just low enough to free himself. His hand wraps around his lengthâhot, leaking, so sensitive the first stroke makes his knees buckle. He slides down the door until heâs sitting on the cold floor, legs splayed, head tipped back against the wood.
He doesnât tease himself. No slow buildup. Heâs too far gone for that.
He starts fast. Rough. Fist tight, twisting at the head on every upstroke, thumb smearing the pre-cum thatâs been leaking since the second you locked eyes during that final thrust.
His mind replays it in filthy, high-definition detail.
Your face on the monitorâclose-up, just like heâd ordered. Brows pinched, mouth slack, eyes glassy and fixed on him like the cameras didnât exist. The way your tits rose and fell with every shallow pant. The tremble in your thighs when Chad pushed in deeper. The exact second your walls must have clenchedâbecause your whole body arched, spine bowing off the sheets, a soft, wrecked whimper spilling out that wasnât scripted, wasnât fake.
He groans low in his throat, hips jerking up into his hand.
âFuckâlook at you,â he mutters to the empty hallway, voice hoarse. âComing so pretty for me⌠werenât you?â
He imagines itâs him between your legs instead.
Not Chadâs clumsy rhythm. His.
He pictures pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. Slow at firstâteasing, shallow rolls just to watch your frustration build, to hear you whine his name. Then deeper. Harder. Bottoming out every time until your nails dig into his back, until youâre shaking, begging, âHaechanâpleaseâdonât stopââ
His strokes speed up. Sloppy now. The wet sound of his fist echoing in the quiet apartment.
He replays your eyesâthose little glances you kept throwing him between takes, like you were performing just for him. The way they went wide and hazy right before you tipped over the edge. The way your lips formed that silent, desperate shapeâhis name? A plea? He doesnât know, but he pretends it was both.
âWanted it to be me, didnât you?â he growls, hips snapping up harder. âWanted my cock stretching you open⌠fucking you until you couldnât breathe⌠until you came all over me like that againââ
His free hand fists in his hoodie, yanking it up so he can see himselfâthick, flushed, veins standing out, slick shining on every downstroke. He imagines itâs your wetness instead. Your heat. Your tight, fluttering walls gripping him so good he can barely think.
He pictures flipping you over, face down, ass upâgrabbing your hips and slamming back in while you muffle your cries into the sheets. Or maybe on your back, legs over his shoulders so he can watch every inch disappear inside you, watch your face crumple every time he hits that spot that makes you sob his name.
His balls draw up tight. Heat coils low and vicious.
âFuckâgonna fill you up,â he pants, voice cracking. âGonna come so deep youâll feel me for days⌠gonna make you come again just watching me lose it inside youââ
The first pulse hits like a shockwave.
He chokes on a moan, head slamming back against the door as he spills over his fistâhot, thick ropes streaking across his stomach, dripping down his knuckles. His hips jerk through it, riding the waves, imagining itâs your cunt milking him dry instead.
He keeps stroking through the oversensitivity until it hurts, until every last drop is wrung out, until heâs trembling and gasping against the wood.
When itâs over, he slumps there on the floorâjeans still tangled around his thighs, hoodie rucked up, cum cooling on his skinâand lets out a long, wrecked laugh.
Because heâs fucked.
Completely, irreversibly fucked.
He just came harder than he had in years⌠to the memory of a girl heâs directed for one single day.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow thereâs another shoot.
With you.
He drags a hand down his face, still breathing hard.
âShit,â he mutters.
Heâs already half-hard again just thinking about it.
summary: Mark suddenly has to face the quiet of your absence, and he comes to terms with the fact that he's made a big mistake. Will he choose to let it go and move on with his life, or will he succumb to what his heart really wants? You.
pairing: student!mark x female student!reader.     Â
genre: university!au, fluff, crack, angst, situationship toâŚ, smut! mdni!Â
word count: ~12k   Â
warnings: (DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS) markie is a sad boy! like sooo sad :(, he's anxious too, alcohol consumption, partyyyyy, awkwardness, unprotected sex (i beg go buy them condoms, these two are horrible role models), creampie (yuck), emotional sex, crying (before and during sex), justâŚtoo many emotions, you get the gist.Â
a/n: i give you the finale!!! thank you to all the baddies and cuties who read this story and gave it so much loveeee. as always, your comments and messages are always appreciated and they always motivate me to write more! i poured my heart into this so pls be gentle. i tagged whoever i could :) love, cookie <3
Part 1 | Part 2 | masterlist | ko-fi
Mark slumps into his swivel chair, letting his head fall back. His dissertation is finally submitted. About ten minutes ago, he clicked submit and deleted the tab, feeling like he could breathe again. Like maybe air wasnât just a concept. Free. Supposedly.
But free doesnât feel like freedom. Not really. Not when the quiet of his room presses in, thick and oppressive. Not when finals are over, everyone else is out celebrating, and heâs sitting here wondering if youâve finished your exams, if youâve slept properly, if youâre eating anything other than instant ramen, if you even think about him at all.
A month has passed since that day he last saw you on his way to class. Since he decided to let you go. To walk away from you.
Weeks of silence. Weeks of avoidance, and now the echo of your absence fills every quiet corner. His thoughts circle back to you constantlyâsmall things, big things, every little memory twisting in his chest.
He wonders if youâve smiled today.
Mark knows he did this to himself. He's accepted that he gave up too easily. But he thought he was making the right decision at the time. He was losing himself in you. He felt more fragile than ever, so he refused to let himself completely shatter for someone whose feelings were never clear.Â
But you're not just âsomeoneâ. He knows that now. You're the girl he never admitted his love to. Simply because he was too scared. He's not entirely sure of what, and it doesn't really matter either. Because Mark's heart and head are both in shambles anyway. Utterly fucked.
His heart, especially⌠in constant pain.Â
He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. The ceiling offers no answers. The laptop stares back at him, blank screen reflecting his own eyes. He hasnât moved since sending the file. He hasnât wanted to. Uni is over, but he still feels like heâs trapped in some long hallway with doors that wonât open.
A knock at the door pulls him out of it.
âMarkie?â
He doesnât bother moving. âYeah.â
The door opens anyway. Giselle leans against the frame, arms folded loosely.
âYouâre alive,â she says.
âBarely.â
She huffs a small laugh and glances around his messy room. Laptop open, notes everywhere, half-empty mug on the desk.
âDone with the dissertation?â
âYup.â
âLook at you.â She smiles. âFree man.â
He hums. Doesnât feel like it. Free should feel like air, not this tightness in his chest.
She rocks back on her heels. âThereâs a party tonight. Everyoneâs going.â
Markâs eyebrows lift slightly. âEveryone?â
âYeah.â She shrugs. âPost-exam thing.â
He leans back in the chair, hands fiddling. Fingers catching the little scar from where he absentmindedly cut himself during his last revision session.
He snorts indifferently. âSounds exhausting.â
âIt might be,â she says easily. âBut it could also be fun.â
He doesnât answer. Fun is a word he hasnât attached to anything in weeks, and the idea of seeing you there, laughing with everyone else, makes his stomach twist in a way that isnât exactly dread, isnât excitement eitherâsomething heavier, sharper, and quieter, all at once.
Giselle studies him for a moment, then adds, casual, âI ran into Jaemin earlier. He said Y/N and the others are going.â
Mark stills. Of course you are.
He looks back at his desk instead. Pretends to be interested in the blank Word document, the half-formed sentences, the cursor blinking like itâs mocking him.
âRight,â he mutters.
Silence stretches. Itâs not uncomfortable exactly, but itâs thick with everything heâs thinking and not saying. He can hear his own heartbeat, slow and steady but loud in his ears, like itâs daring him to make a decision he isnât sure he wants to.
Giselle doesnât push. She just leans against the doorframe, patient, watching him like sheâs waiting for him to either explode or shrink into the floor.
âYou donât have to go,â she says after a moment.
âGood.â
âBut,â she continues lightly, as if testing the air, âyouâve been locked in here for weeks. Might be nice to see people again.â
He rubs his face. Frown deepening. Maybe sheâs right. Maybe seeing people again would be good. But maybe seeing you would make him wish heâd stayed locked in here for another month.
âYeah. Maybe.â Another pause. He stares at the desk, at the half-drained mug, at the laptop heâs not looking at. Thinking about how free he is in theory, but how tied he still feels to you. Every quiet corner of his day, every thought that drifts past, loops back to you. The way you laughed at his silly jokes. The curve of your smile. The simple way you used to lean against him like you belonged there.
And you do, donât you? You always have.
Then he glances up at her. âYou trying to trick me into emotional damage or something?â
She laughs softly, shaking her head. âNo. Just suggesting you leave the cave.â
Mark exhales slowly, letting his hand fall from his face. He looks at the blank wall again. Heâs not sure if he wants to see you. Heâs not sure if heâs ready for what that will do. But he canât stop thinking about it either.
Giselle pushes off the doorframe, taking a small step into the room. âThink about it,â she says. âWeâre not going for a while anyway. No rush.â
He nods absentmindedly. Just thinking about it is enough for now. He doesnât have to decide yet. The party is hours away, and he can let the worry twist in his gut until then.
She pauses at the door. âAnd Mark?â
He glances over.
âYou survived three years of uni. I think you can survive a party.â She says with a smile before she disappears down the hall. Quiet footsteps, nothing else.
Mark leans back in his chair again. Free, apparently. And yet every time he lets his mind wander, every quiet second, it finds you. He wonders if youâve been resting, if youâve been laughing with Jaemin, Karina, anyone. If youâve thought about him even once in these weeks.
Of course you have, he tells himself, but the rational part of himâthe stubborn, pessimistic part that keeps him locked in his own headâsnorts at the thought. Youâve moved on. Youâre happy. You probably donât even remember what it's like having him around.
Mark stares at the ceiling. Heâs free. Really free. But he isnât. And the tight coil in his stomach says it wonât ever completely loosen until he sees you again.
The music hits him before he even steps through the door. Heavy bass leaking through the walls, vibrating faintly through the floorboards as the front door swings open and someone he vaguely recognises from a seminar last year shouts something unintelligible over the noise.
Chenle steps in front of him immediately, grabbing his shoulders excitedly, big smile adorning his face.
âFinally,â he exclaims, already tipsy. âThought you were gonna become a hermit.â
Mark smiles at his friend's enthusiasm but doesnât answer. Heâs too busy taking it all in.
The house is packed. People everywhere. Shoes kicked off by the door, bodies brushing shoulders in the narrow hallway, someone laughing too loudly in the kitchen. The smell of alcohol and cheap candles and something sweet in the air.
Giselle nudges his arm gently as she steps inside behind him.
âYou good?â she asks quietly.
He nods automatically. âYeah.â
He isnât. His palms are already sweating.
Itâs stupid, really. Itâs just a party. Heâs been to a hundred of these before. But itâs been weeks since heâs properly been around people like this. Weeks of isolation, dissertation stress, quiet library corners and empty rooms.
Weeks of thinking about you. And now you might be here.
Somewhere.
That thought sits heavily in his chest as they move further into the house. Chenle greets three people before they even make it to the kitchen. Mark offers small nods, brief smiles, half-hearted greetings. Conversations brush past him without sticking.
His attention keeps drifting. Scanning the room. Kitchen. Living room. Hallway.
Youâre not there. Which doesnât help. Because now heâs hyper aware that you could appear at any moment. Walking down the stairs. Coming in from the garden. Laughing with someone in the doorway.
His stomach tightens every time someone new enters the room.
Giselle disappears into a quick conversation with someone from her course. Chenle is already halfway across the kitchen grabbing a bottle. Mark lingers near the edge of the counter, trying to look like he belongs here. Trying not to look like heâs waiting for someone.
He tells himself to relax. Just talk to people. Act normal. But his brain wonât shut up.
Is she here already? Has she already noticed me? Would she leave if she saw me?Would she pretend I don't exist?
His chest tightens at the thought.
Thenâ
Movement across the kitchen catches his eye.
Jaemin. Leaning against the counter, laughing at something someone said. Karina standing beside him, one hand wrapped loosely around a drink as she gestures animatedly while talking. Mark feels the small jolt of recognition immediately.
Theyâre here. Which meansâ
His eyes flick around the room again instinctively. But youâre nowhere to be found. Not next to them. Not by the sink. Not leaning against the counter like you usually would, chiming in halfway through someone elseâs sentence.
Strange.
A quiet tension settles into his shoulders. Maybe youâre upstairs. Maybe youâre outside. Maybe you havenât arrived yet. He isnât sure which option makes him more nervous.
âYo, Markie Lee!â He looks down. Chenle has shoved a small plastic shot cup into his hand.
Mark stares at the liquid for a second. âDude, youâre not even a graduate. What are you celebrating?â
âFeminism?â He says like itâs the first thing that pops into his mind.
A couple of people around the counter laugh. Someone raises their cup. âHere's to unemployment!â
Mark sighs quietly. He lifts the shot glass to his nose anyway. The smell alone is enough to make him grimace.
He hasnât even taken the shot yet whenâ
âTHERE YOU ARE!â Karinaâs voice cuts straight through the noise. Loud enough that half the kitchen turns.
Mark freezes.
His brain recognises the tone instantly. He doesnât turn around. He doesnât need to. Your voice follows a second later.
âOh my god, this dude just wouldnât get off my back,â you say, breathless and amused. âClingy ass whore.â
Laughter erupts somewhere behind him. His heart slams once against his ribs.
Thenâ
âY/N!â Chenle yells it like heâs just seen his long-lost sibling.
Shut up, you little demon, Mark thinks to himself.
He finally turns. And his chest already hurts, lungs feel empty. Youâre standing in the kitchen doorway. One hand still gripping some girl's wrist behind you like youâd dragged her through the crowd. Your hair slightly messy, like youâve been outside in the warm air for a while. And for a moment Mark genuinely forgets how to exist.
You lookâ God. You look good. Really good.
A cute tube top sits nicely on your body, thin straps and light fabric, summery and so pretty. A short skirt hugging your hips just enough to show off your figure.
Your legs. Bare. Smooth skin catching the warm kitchen light. He remembers those legs wrapped around his waist. Hooked around his hips when youâdâ
He forces the thought away immediately as he watches. Chenle barrels toward you before Mark can process anything else.
âOh my god, hey cutie!â you laugh, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. âItâs been so long.â
Chenle hugs you back dramatically. âToo fucking long!â
âAw, good to know you missed me.â you reply. Your voice sounds exactly the same. Warm. Easy. Teasing.
Markâs mouth feels dry. His fingers trembling.
You pull away from Chenle and your eyes land on Giselle.
âHey Gigi,â you say, stepping forward again and pulling her into a hug. âHow are you?â
âIâm good,â Giselle smiles wide. âYou?â
Giselle laughs at whatever you say. The whole thing feels so normal. Too normal.
Mark is still standing a few steps away. Still holding the untouched shot in his hand. Still staring at you.
You smell the same.
He notices it even from here. That familiar scent that used to cling to his hoodies after you borrowed them. Thenâ
Your eyes meet his. And you stall. Just for a fraction of a second. Anyone else might miss it.
But he sees it.
Your eyes widen slightly. Surprise. Maybe even a hint of panic. Then it disappears. Your expression smooths over so quickly it almost feels rehearsed. Like youâve already decided exactly how this moment is supposed to go.
You walk toward him. And hug him.
Markâs entire body goes rigid.
Your arms slide around his shoulders like itâs the most natural thing in the world. Like nothing between you ever changed.
âHi, Markie,â you say casually. âGood to see you.â
Your cheek brushes his for half a second. Warm. Familiar. Then you pull away. Already turning back toward everyone else. Already smiling. Already laughing with Chenle.
Like the hug meant nothing. Like his entire nervous system didnât just light on fire the second you touched him.
Mark stands there in stunned silence. The shot is still in his hand. He doesnât even remember lifting it.
Youâre talking again. Your hands moving as you explain something about a youtube video to Chenle. Your head tilting back slightly when you laugh. That same little wrinkle appearing near your eyes. You lookâŚFine. Relaxed. Comfortable.
You lean casually against the counter next to Karina like youâve been there the whole time. Like his presence doesnât affect you at all.
It all hits him slowly.
You look so unbothered. Just chatting with everyone like nothing happened. Like the hug you just shared didnât burn your skin the way it burned his. Like he never mattered. Something heavy settles in his chest. Because the truth isâ
He did this. He ended it. Heâs the one who decided it wasnât worth the risk. The one who stepped back because he was scared of getting hurt. And now youâre standing right in front of him. Laughing. Moving on. While heâs still stuck exactly where he left you.
Mark swallows hard. His eyes drift over you again before he can stop himself. The faint shimmer of lip gloss when you talk. The curve of your smile. The way you roll your eyes at Jaemin. All the tiny details he hasnât seen in weeks. All the things he used to notice without trying. And now he feels them like a punch to the ribs. Because you donât look like someone whoâs been thinking about him. You look like someone who's already forgotten.
Mark finally realises something then. Something that makes his stomach drop.
He didnât just end things. He gave up. And now youâre showing him exactly what that looks like.
You living your life like he was never part of it. And he canât stop staring. Because the version of you standing in front of him nowâ
The confident, laughing, completely unbothered versionâ
Feels even further away than when he forced himself to walk away from you on that pathway a month ago. And for the first time since that dayâŚMark understands the full weight of what he did.
The air outside is noticeably cooler. Not cold â early summer, the pavement holding onto the warmth from the day â but itâs enough to make Mark realise just how stuffy the house had gotten. The music is muffled now, bass thumping faintly through the walls behind them. Every time someone opens the front door it spills out louder for a second before being swallowed again.
Mark stands near the low brick wall bordering the front garden, arms crossed over his chest. Heâs staring down the street without really looking at anything.
Cars parked unevenly along the curb. A group of people laughing further down the road. The quiet hum of late-night traffic somewhere in the distance. Anything to keep his mind from drifting back inside. Back to you.
Giselle stands a few feet away from him, leaning casually against the porch railing. He feels her pity before she can even say anything.
âYouâre not even trying,â she says eventually.
Mark lets out a slow breath through his nose. âI did.â
âYeah, for like fifteen minutes.â
His eyes roll in frustration. âIt felt longer.â
She snorts softly, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. âYouâve barely spoken to anyone.â
âI spoke to Chenle.â
âChenle forced you to do a shot.â She says pointedly.
âWhich, by the way, tasted like piss.â
Giselle shakes her head, but the corner of her mouth lifts slightly.
Mark drags a hand through his hair, fingers catching slightly before he lets his arm drop again. His gaze drifts back toward the house, watching the flicker of light every time the door opens.
âI think Iâm gonna head out,â he mutters.
Giselle groans immediately, tipping her head back dramatically. âOh, come on.â
âIâm serious. You stay.â
âYou just got here.â She whines dramatically.
âDude, itâs been two hours.â He canât help but chuckle at her reaction.
âAnd you're still alive,â she says, faking a shocked expression.
Mark stares down at the ground for a moment, scuffing the sole of his sneaker against the concrete. âI feel weird.â
âWeird how?â
âLikeâŚâ He pauses, searching for the right word. âI dunno, just weird.â
Giselle studies him for a moment, her expression softening.
âThatâs just because you havenât socialised in weeks,â she says gently. âYour brain forgot how.â
âCool, so Iâll just go home.â He offers the sweetest smile he can put on.
âI really donât think thatâs gonna help.â She scolds with a sigh. âMark, you're the one who ended it. If you stillââÂ
Before Giselle can argue further, the front door creaks open behind them.
They both glance over.
You step out onto the porch, pulling the door closed behind you with one hand while adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder with the other. For a moment you donât notice them. Youâre looking down at your phone, scrolling in thought.
Then Giselle brightens immediately. âLook who it is.â
Too loud for Markâs buzzing ears.
You glance up, a cute startled expression adorning your face. âOhâ hey.â
You walk down the porch steps toward them, your black converse tapping lightly against the ground before landing on the pavement.
Up close, you look a little tired, cheeks flushed. Not messy, just softer around the edges. Hair slightly looser than it was earlier, your makeup still neat but less perfect.
âYou leaving?â Giselle asks.
You nod, rubbing lightly under one eye with the back of your index. âYeah. Iâm exhausted.â
âAlready?â
You shrug one shoulder, shifting the strap of your bag again.
âItâs been a long week,â you say, gaze meeting Markâs for a second and he instantly panics, heart racing.
âWell,â Giselle says casually, âMark was just about to leave too.â
Mark blinks. He was?
You look between the two of them, your expression immediately skeptical.
âRight,â you say slowly.
âI mean,â Giselle continues, entirely too innocent, âyou guys could just walk together.â
You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slightly. âItâs fine, I was literally about to call an Uber.â
Mark opens his mouth before he even realises heâs about to speak.
âNo, Iâll walk you.â The words come out quickly. A little jumbled. He sounds embarrassingly keen.
For a second nobody says anything.
Your eyebrows lift slightly in surprise or maybe amusement.
The pause that follows is small, but it stretches just enough to feel awkward. Mark suddenly becomes very aware of Giselle standing right there beside him. Watching.
âUmmâŚâ He clears his throat quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. âI mean⌠if you want.â He adds.
You study him for a moment. Not suspicious exactly. Just⌠unsure.
Then you shrug lightly. âOkay.â
âPerfect,â Giselle says triumphantly, already getting ready to head back inside.
Mark shoots her a quick threatening look she pretends not to notice.
âText me when you get home,â she instructs loudly.
âYes, ma'am.â you reply with a smirk.Â
God, he's missed you.
You glance back at him, your expression is calm, neutral. Like this isnât strange at all.
âReady?â you ask.
Mark nods. âYeah.â
He steps away from the wall, falling into place beside you as you start walking down the street together. The music swells again as someone opens the front door. Then it fades. And just like that, the two of you are alone on the quiet pavement, the noise of the party slowly disappearing behind you.
The first few seconds of silence are what Mark would define as âtortureâ.
Heâs starting to think that maybe he shouldnât have said anything. He shouldâve let you get an uber and he shouldâve walked alone. Maybe in that scenario heâd want to disappear a little less than he does now.
His eyes drift over at you quickly before focusing on the pavement again. And he canât help but feel very conscious of your eyes on him.
âSo, how have you been?â Your calming voice breaks the unbearable silence and Mark feels like screaming from relief.
He sighs instead, and then tries his best to sound convincing. âYeah, not too bad. Busy with deadlines, you know.â
You nod in understanding. You seem to relate, and Mark wonders if youâve been stressing as much as you normally do when it comes to exams and assignments. You always used to pretend stressful situations don't affect you, and to be fair, you were good at it. But he could always tell. It was so obvious and he hates that he's not been there to say the right things. To calm you down with a hug. With his fingers in your hair. With a kiss on your cheek.
Heâs missed feeling you giving into his comfort, allowing him to coddle you and treat you like you deserve to be treated. He can almost visualise the moment your shoulders go from tense to relaxed, your body melting into his with trust. The sigh youâd let out. The way youâd bury your face in his chest. The way youâd breathe him in like his scent is some kind of stress antidote. He can almost feel the softness of your skin. Almost.
He doesnât think heâs missed anyone the way he misses you right now. Even as youâre walking beside him. Even as he feels the warmth radiating from your bare arm brushing his.
âYou?â He asks, his walking pace slowing down to match yours.
âSame.â You say with a light tone. But it holds something. Melancholy. âNot too bad. Just hard to believe uniâs over.â
âYeah, I know.â He breathes out a bittersweet laugh. âKinda feels like Iâll still be revising tomorrow.â
You let out a low hum of agreement. âWeird right? Weâre like, real adults now.â
âSpeak for yourself.â He jokes, and heâs pretty sure thatâs the first time in a while. He barely recognises the tone of his voice. You have that much effect on him.
The little chuckle that escapes you, makes something in his chest bloom. Another thing heâs missed.
âPlease, if one of us is the adult, thatâs you.â You say with a smirk, eyes meeting his for half a second.
âYou think so?â
âI know so.â You blurt without hesitation. Itâs subtle, but itâs a reminder of facts. Because you do know. You know so much about him. Too much.
Itâs quiet again for a few moments. And then Mark succumbs to asking a question heâs been dying to ask since you started hanging out.
âSo, whatâs your plan now?â He hesitates to look at you, eyes on the concrete.
âIâm staying here, actually.â You state plainly, like it's not news.
Now itâs inevitable. His head lifts quickly, surprised eyes meeting your neutral ones. âReally?â
You nod once. âYeah, Iâm starting an internship next month.â
âOh, shit.â He exhales. âThatâsâwow, congrats.â
âThank you.â Your amused smile blinds him. âWhy do you sound so surprised?â
He shakes his head. âIâm not surprised you got an internship. Just didnât think youâd be staying.â
âHow so?â You ask curiously.
âI thoughtâyou know, cause of the year abroad, maybe youâd move to a different city? I dunnoâŚâ He explains, still sounding a little taken aback.
âYou thought or you hoped?â You ask, bluntness evident.
Mark stares at you, a little baffled. âWhy would I hopeââ
âDonât worry.â You wave your hand in dismissal. âForget I said that.â
âY/N,â A confused sound leaves his throat. âIâm happy for you. Genuinely. Whether you stay here or move to fucking Antarctica.â
Your small laugh sounds real. Genuine.
âThanks.â You purse your lips in thought, an indication of nervousness. âAre you staying orâŚ?â
A hopeful smile threatens to spread on Markâs face, but he tries his best to hold back. You care about his plans. And he can tell you're not just being polite. He can sense the genuine interest. âYeah. Both me and Gi. We thought itâd be best for interviews and job stuff.â
You bob your head adorably, your subtle grin difficult to miss. âCool.â
âCool.â
The rest of the walk fills itself with safe topics. Exams. Deadlines. Job applications. Anything neutral enough to avoid the things sitting between you.
Mark keeps wanting to ask things heâs not allowed to ask. He also keeps hoping youâll ask him questions you shouldnât be asking. But you donât. Neither of you do.
And when you both reach your apartment building, another unsettling silence engulfs you as you move to stand in front of him, swaying back and forth with your hands behind your back. Youâre so adorable like this, it hurts him.
He looks around, unsure of what to say next, but once again you save the day.
âThanks for walking me back, you didnât have to.â You say with a gentle voice, smile lopsided, eyes warm, reminding him of moments that he never really stopped thinking about.
âI wanted to.â His honesty slips, but he doesnât really mind at this point.
You look like youâre close to saying something before closing your mouth again. âOkay, well, it was good to see you.â
âYou too.â It was more than good. It was painful. It reminded him things heâs been trying not to cling onto.
âBye, Markie.â You utter the cute nickname with such ease, like you never stopped saying it. Like you never stopped thinking it.
Mark hates this. He hates that youâre right here with him while he feels incapable of telling you what has been tormenting him the last few weeks. He feels like his brain and heart are working overtime. To come up with something. Anything to let you know that heâs regretted letting you go since the moment he forced himself to.
So, as he watches you approach the main entrance, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
âIâm glad youâre staying.â It barely makes sense, the words a little too jumbled, voice raspy due to the dryness in his throat.
You halt, keys already in hand, the little jingling sound echoing. He notices the subtle movement of your shoulders, tensing and loosening. And then you turn around again, eyes hard, but glossy, jaw clenching visibly. And Mark can tell.
Youâre holding back tears.
He instinctively moves closer, hand stopping mid-air and then dropping to his side before he can touch you as you take a step back. Like any contact would have caused pain.
You might as well kill him. The shaky breath you let out almost does. Too vulnerable. Too fragile.
âI think you should go.â You whisper, voice sounding unlike you. He really has never seen you like this before. Your composure hanging on by a thread, eyes refusing to meet his as you blink quickly.
âNo.â He rushes. âWait.â
You donât move this time when he takes another step forward. You just keep staring at the ground. And what scares him the most is how quiet you remain. Not a single word uttered. Itâs just your breathing that he can hear. And his heart that he can feel trying to jump out of his chest.
He pushes past the fear and carefully reaches for your hand, expecting you to flinch or push him away.
You donât.
You let him hold onto your fingers. Loose. Gentle. But itâs enough for him, after not being able to touch you for such a long time. Itâs much more than he can ask for. Definitely more than he deserves.
He feels the slight twitch of your fingers, but you donât pull away, and he finds himself exhaling in relief.
âI donâtââ He stops himself to take a deep breath, hating how unstable it sounds. âI thought I knew what Iâd say if I saw you tonight, but now I can only think of one thing.â
âWhat?â You whimper, and he feels an ache in his chest. Not because you refuse to look at him. Not because your eyes shut closed. But because of the tear that rolls down your cheek.
He doesnât need to think too much when he weakly confesses, âI miss you.â
For a moment you stay quiet, eyes still shut, lips pursing, and then your head drops forward, the hand that's not in his lifting to cover your face. The sob that tumbles out is quiet, a little broken, more than enough to shatter Markâs heart.
âNo, no, no.â He panics, immediately wrapping his arms around your trembling shoulders. âNo, please, donât cry.â
Itâs pointless now. Too late. Youâre already sobbing harder, but at least now heâs holding you, your face hidden in his chest, and he wishes he could keep you there forever. He breathes in the familiar scent heâs missed so much. Your shampoo mixed with your perfume, but your little cries prevent him from feeling relief and happiness. Heâs just desperate to make you stop. To make you feel better. To make you happy.
âIâm sorry.â He whispers against your hairline. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â
Heâs not sure if heâs apologising for making you cry or for the way he handled things. But he hopes you know. Heâs sure you do. You always know.
He tries to soothe you by pressing you closer, carefully, making sure thereâs not a single centimetre separating your body from his, swaying you gently from side to side, fingers stroking the back of your head.
He keeps you there, safe, until your sobs eventually turn into cute little hiccups, until youâre finally starting to breathe properly again. But when he attempts to create some space so he can look at your face, your arms come to slither around his middle. Light at first, and then he feels you grabbing onto his shirt, letting him know youâre not ready to face him yet.
So he patiently waits. He gives you time. Itâs the least he can do.
If Mark ever doubted you, now he knows for sure that heâs made a big mistake. Heâs fucked up. Massively. Not only because he hurt both of you in the process of trying to protect himself. But because he let you down. Because he misjudged you. Because he undermined your feelings for him.
But now he knows. You donât even have to use words. He just knows. And heâll happily spend the rest of his miserable life making it up to you if he has to. Because thereâs no chance heâs letting you go now.
âTalk to me.â He says softly, desperately needing to hear your voice, even if it is you shouting at him, he just needs to hear you. âPlease.â
Your hands come to his sides, your head slowly lifting, and when your tear-stained face comes into view, he can only hold it. His palms envelop your cheeks, shaky thumbs clumsily wiping at the fallen tears.
âYou just left.â You sniffle, voice still trembling, your eyebrows tense. âYou didnât even hear me out.â
âI know, I know.â He hates hearing you say it. Hates how he treated you that day. Almost like a stranger. He still remembers feeling like he was going to be sick after. âIâm a fucking idiot.â
âI know I hurt you that night we had a fight.â More tears fall as you speak, but now your eyes are blinking up at him, all pretty and needy. âI wanted to apologise.â
He quickly shakes his head. âYou have nothing to apologise for.â
âNo, I do. I know I do.â Your hands fist his shirt again as you swallow. âI was mean and Iâm sorry. Iâve thought about what I said to you every day, I swear.â
âY/Nââ
âBut I didnât deserve that.â
It hurts him. That youâre the one to say it first. Because Mark is very aware of what he did and what he should have done.
âI know you didnât.â
âThen whyââ
âBecause you were right. Iâm a coward,â He admits. âAnd I acted selfish. Cause I thought I was protecting myself. Iâm sorry.â
You let out a little sigh. âYou said that this isnât for you.â
He remembers the look on your face when those words left his stupid mouth. Betrayal.
âI lied.â He says truthfully. âYou know you're right for me, Y/N.â
âButââ
âI love you.â The words roll out naturally, like heâs said them a million times, and in his head he has. Theyâve been sitting in his chest for weeks, burning a hole through every excuse heâs tried to hide behind. âYou don't have to say anything, but I think you should know. I should've told you sooner.â
Your eyes are wide, the epitome of shock as he continues stroking your cheeks with his thumbs while taking in your reaction. Your chest moves up and down erratically, hands grabbing onto his wrists, then his elbows, as though youâre unsure what to do with them, until they settle on his chest.
âAre you lying again?â You whisper, searching around his face for proof. For a second Mark feels like his chest caves in. The idea that you think he might lie about this makes him sick.
âNo.â He shakes his head so quickly he gets a head rush.
âYou love me?â You repeat the words like theyâre forbidden.
He doesnât think twice when he leans down to connect his lips with yours. Itâs the only way he can answer your question without stumbling over his words. And he almost pulls away when you donât reciprocate right away, but the hand that curls at the front of his collar holds him in place. And the soft exhale you let out against his mouth, makes him kiss you a little harder.
Heâs sure heâs ascended to heaven when your lips start moving in sync with his, your little whimpers making his heart ache with adoration.
âI do.â He breathlessly mumbles mid-kiss. âI really fucking do.â
You make a sound thatâs something between a sob and a whine, and Mark swears he forgets how to breathe. So he just keeps kissing you, now tilting his head so he can deepen the kiss, fingers curling in your hair as your taste invades his senses. Exactly the same as he remembers, mixed with a hint of saltiness, from your tears.
You let him in like heâs come back home, curling your tongue with his, still letting out those little sounds that render him useless.
âSay it again.â You plead â gasping before kissing him again â like youâre not sure the words will still exist if you stop hearing them. âPlease.âÂ
He accidentally moans at your neediness, relishing in the way your hands tangle in his hair, and he doesnât even realise that youâre walking backwards, until heâs got you backed up against the wall next to the entrance of the building.
âI love you.â He whispers pliantly, as he lets his lips descend, leaving tiny soft kisses along your jaw. âI love you.â Then your neck. âI love you.â Then heâs back on your lips. âI love you.â Then your cheek. âI love you.â
He wishes he could drown in you. Suffocate in your sweet scent.
Before he can say it again, your hand that trails up to the side of his neck pulls him back up with more determination, this time your tongue invading his mouth, making his knees feel weak. So much that he stumbles forward, his hands finding the wall, searching for balance, body flush against yours, the erection he didnât realise he had, poking into your tummy.
He decides to pull away when you mumble something incoherent between kisses.
Youâre both panting loudly, foreheads touching briefly before your hands cup his face in the sweetest manner. Like they always used to.
Youâre staring at him like heâs someone precious, like he matters so much. And before he can speak, you beat him to it.
You barely register the ding as the lift doors slide open, too occupied with Markâs mouth devouring yours. He presses into you, warm and insistent, and your hands twist into his hair, pulling him closer as you struggle to maintain your balance.
He catches you, arm wrapping around your waist, holding you flush against him as you stagger down the corridor, mouths still locked. Breathless, messy, desperate.
Your apartment door is right there, and your hands fumble with the keys. They shake, making noise, but all you can hear is the smacks of your lips and Markâs low moans. You bite your lip, too flustered to focus as he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Sucking a little too hard, making you whine as your back finally crashes into the surface.
âShitâhang on.â Your fingers fumble with the lock, shaking too much to line the key properly. The metal slips against your skin, and you curse again, breath hitching as he shamelessly licks a wet stripe up to your ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth.
âHere,â he murmurs, low, brushing his fingers over yours. He guides the key, helping you fit it in the lock without breaking away. His mouth barely leaves your skin as he shifts, pressing you gently against him while you twist the key.
Click.
The door swings open, and you messily tumble inside together, lips still tangled, completely lost in the heat of the moment. Keys and bag hit the floor behind you, clattering, door slamming a little too loudly but you couldnât care less.
Heâs here. In your space again. After what feels like an eternity of hell.
He presses you against the wooden surface again, gently but firmly, hands on your waist and lower back, pulling you closer as his mouth finds yours in a wet kiss, sloppier than before. Heâs greedy, and your knees tremble against him. You moan softly in delight, tilting your head, letting him taste you. Needing his tongue in your mouth. Needing to feel the rush youâve been missing for weeks.
The strap of your top slips fully from your shoulder, sliding down your arm. You barely notice it, brain foggy, too busy focusing on the heat radiating off his skin. Your hands yank at the hem of his T-shirt, at his chest, anywhere, trying to press closer, to pull him into you even harder, and before you know what youâre doing, his jeans are unbuttoned and youâre shoving them down along with his boxers. Just enough for his cock to spring out.
He lets out a surprised gasp but still doesn't hold back from grinding into your stomach and within seconds your panties are shoved down to your ankles, his hands bunching up your skirt as you try to step out of the flimsy and now soaked through material.
Mark lifts you suddenly, too smoothly for your walls not to clench around nothing, one arm under your ass, the other secured around your waist, and you wrap your legs around him instinctively, skirt at your hips now. The press of your chest into his, the sway of your bodies as he holds you tight â it makes your head spin, makes your breath catch, makes everything youâve been holding in for weeks feel unbearable. The friction, the heat, the ache of being pressed together like this â itâs all-consuming.
Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your nails catching lightly as your hips press into him, legs tight around his waist, ankles locked. Kisses become more chaotic, tongue meeting tongue, teeth clashing, moans tumbling from both of you in uneven bursts. Your head tilts, his groans vibrating against your lips, and you feel your knees weaken further against him. The ache in your chest is almost unmanageable, but it makes every touch, every press, every frantic motion more intense.
Your brain malfunctions when you feel the tip of his hard length brushing against your hypersensitive clit.
âPlease.â You whimper with a wiggle of your hips, tongue messily swiping across his bottom lip before licking directly into his mouth, one hand curling behind his neck, holding him in place.
He lets out a strangled breath. It sounds so devastating your chest hurts.
The hand on your ass sneaks between your bodies and as youâre about to beg again, you feel him prodding at your soaked entrance. With a single thrust heâs breaching past the tight opening, just the bulbous head making it in before you clamp down on him with a broken cry, the burn more intense than normal, and thatâs when an ounce of sensibility flickers in your fogged-up brain. The situation suddenly dawning on you.Â
âWait, wait, wait,â you gasp, voice trembling, breath caught in your throat. Your pulse races, your chest heaving against his.
âShit. Sorry. Sorry, fuck, Iââ His forehead rests against yours, lips hovering, dark eyes intense.Â
âI can't.â You whisper, barely audible, shaking. You need air. You need solid ground. You need to feel your own body against something other than his. âPut me down.â
He hesitates, fingers tight on your waist and thighs, then he carefully slips out before lowering you. Your legs slide down, skirt slipping back into place, top strap fallen and forgotten, and you adjust, chest still heaving, heart hammering, pulse racing.
You take a shaky step back, trying to catch yourself, glance flicking to his heaving chest, then his hands. The tremble in them. Just like yours.
He stays close, body brushing yours, still radiating heat. The pull, the ache, the want, hasnât diminished in the slightest, but before he can touch you again, you quietly walk past him, fingers touching your tingly lips as you head toward the kitchen, feet unstable, hands shaking as you grab a glass and pour yourself water. The simple sound of liquid hitting the glass echoes faintly in the apartment, grounding you slightly.
You gulp down half the glass, finally feeling somewhat sane.
His presence is subtle but still easy to feel as he leans casually against the counter behind you, letting you breathe, letting you regain control, giving just enough space while still being there. Weeks of wanting, aching, longing for him, all compressed into this single, messy moment.
âYou okay?â he asks quietly.
You turn to face him as you hold out the glass. âHere.â
He takes it, fingers brushing yours, lingers with the touch, then lifts it to his lips. You watch him drink, quiet, steady. The air between you is thick but calmer, a slow settling after the chaos of whatever just occurred.
âBetter?â you ask softly, letting yourself glance up at him.
âYeah,â he murmurs, voice low, still rough.
Heâs slightly more presentable, his baggy shirt now hanging low enough to cover the front of his trousers. The clank of the now empty glass touching the counter makes the wires in your brain come to life, yet you still keep quiet for a few moments.
You approach him with a sigh, calmer this time, more composed, but still unable to hold off touching him. He doesnât help either, arms slinging around your waist like itâs their rightful place.
âI just needed a moment.â You explain quietly, hands loosely linking behind his neck, thumbs caressing the skin. âFelt overwhelmed.â
âDon't explain.â He smiles adoringly, the dimples youâve missed so much making their appearance. âThat went from zero to a hundred real quick.â
You let out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a gasp.
âI feel like,â You purse your lips in contemplation. âWe should, you knowâŚâ
âTalk?â He tries, smile still intact.
You nod, feeling shy suddenly, not used to having conversations this serious with him.
âWe can.â He reassures, already better at this than you are.
âCan you help me out?â You ask with a bashful smile. âI donât really know how to go about this.â
He chuckles softly, shoulders shaking under your arms. âDo you wanna start by telling me how you feel right now?â
You think about it for a few seconds, eyes focusing on the loose collar of his top before drifting back to his face. âI feel relieved. And my chest doesnât hurt anymore, but I'm scared.â
âOkay.â He nods understandingly. âWhy scared?â
You shrug. âIâm not sure.â
âAre you scared Iâll fuck up again?â He asks tentatively, sounding like he hates bringing that up, eyes full of regret.
âNo.â You admit. âIâm just worried this whole thing makes no sense.â
He blinks. âTo me it does. More than most things in my life right now.â
âStop.â You whisper, covering his mouth with an unsure hand, his words sounding too good to be true, flustering you.Â
âI'm serious.â He gently takes hold of your wrist, pressing your palm to his chest.Â
You exhale shakily, taking in his sincere expression. âSo, likeâŚâ
âI wanna be with you.â He states with such certainty, you feel like crying again. âLike, for real. Properly this time.â
You never thought words could make you feel safe. Markâs silly confession does though.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tight this time, bringing him as close as possible. He instinctively leans in, nuzzling in your shoulder while you bury your face in his neck, breathing in his aftershave.
âOkay.â You say with an inevitable smile. âBe with me then.â
He lets out a satisfied hum against your skin. âIâll make you so happy, I promise.â
âYou already do.â You steal a tiny kiss off the base of his neck, sighing as he holds you tighter, arms firm and safe around you, chest warm against yours.
And when he kisses you again, itâs slow. Patient. Soft. A lot less chaotic than before.
âCan we just sleep tonight?â He asks, voice sultry, not really helping. âI havenât slept properly in weeks.â
You know heâs not just referring to the stressful exam period, and instantly you nod.
You donât know what time it is when you wake up, but you know itâs too early. Thereâs definitely an hour or two left before sunrise, and even though you feel tired, you canât find sleep again.
Mark hasnât moved a single limb since the moment he dozed off â arm still draped heavily over your waist, holding you close, face hidden in your chest, bare legs tangled with yours.
Youâre suddenly hit with the memory of the first time you woke up in the same bed as him. Almost three years ago now, when you were just fresh into uni and you barely knew anything about life. Itâs so bizarre how it works. Who couldâve known back then? That this random boy whose dorm you sneaked out of would be your favourite person three years later. The boy who entirely owns your heart. Someone life wouldnât make sense without.
You tried it. A whole month without him. No sense.
He was there one night, then he wasnât. And now after all this time, after the whole shit show that uni is, heâs here, again. In your bed. Exactly where he belongs. Like he never left.
His leg twitching brings you out of your trance, leg hair lightly tickling you. He mumbles something incoherent, hot puffs of air hitting your chest, and you hold him close, hand curling around the back of his head.
And then heâs speaking more clearly. âPass the ball.â
âMm?â You glance down in confusion only to find him still sleeping soundly.
Then again. âBallâŚpass here.â
Is heâŚdreaming about basketball?
You unintentionally let out a snort at the hilariously annoyed expression heâs sporting. Frustrated about a ball even in his sleep.
âMarkie?â You whisper, fingers stroking his hair softly.
He responds with a moan, clearly still asleep, leg twitching once more between yours. And youâre about to let him settle back into his slumber before he abruptly shoots up, like someone electrocuted him.
âYoâŚâ He says, completely out of it still as he glances around the room like heâs lost. âWe won.â
Another quiet laugh slips out as you wait for him to recognise his surroundings. And then he looks down at you, eyes squinting in the dark, trying to adjust.
âYouâre not Chenle.â He mutters groggily, voice still holding confusion.
âSorry.â You say with an amused grin, and then allow yourself to laugh more freely as he slumps back down onto the mattress with a tired huff.
âDude, what the hell.â He buries his face in your chest again, a cute sleepy groan vibrating between you as he tries to get comfortable again, cuddling closer into you.
âGood game?â You tease, resuming your absentminded threading through his messy strands.
He hums in response, voice a little deeper than normal. âSo good I thought I jizzed my pants.â
You muffle a laugh in his hair, the fluffy strands tickling your skin.
âSexy.â You joke, shuffling closer, leg bending to curl around his hip. You canât prevent your smile when his hand sneaks under your long t-shirt, making direct contact with the small of your back. You try to ignore his pinkie slipping under the waistband of your panties. âYou often dream about Chenle?â
âWhy, you jealous?â He retorts, a little too quick, almost sounding sassy, and then glances up at you.
He looks too good for someone whoâs just woken up from a dream about a basketball match. Hair messy, lips a little puffy from sleep, but itâs his raspy voice that affects you the most.
You hold back a smile, thumb outlining his bottom lip carefully. âYeah, actually, I am.â
âHm.â He brings his face close enough that your noses are touching. âDonât worry. I dream about you pretty much every night.â
Your heart flutters at the unfiltered words. âReally?â
âMhm.â His delicate touch trails up your spine, knuckles leaving goosebumps in their wake. âProbably cause I think about you too much.â
âAs you should.â You say teasingly, thumb still tracing his bottom lip lightly as he smiles cheekily. You forget your next words when he presses you as close as possible, your hips flush against his, his palm flat on your back, and his quite prominent erection nudged into your belly. And you couldnât be more thankful that he chose to sleep only in his boxers. âAre you hard because of Chenle or because of me?â
He doesnât give you much time to tease him for longer. You donât realise when his hand travels to the back of your neck, forcing your lips onto his, clearly much more awake now.
âYou.â He mumbles, the answer very serious compared to the mischievous nature of your question, indicating that heâs not in the mood to play around anymore. âAlways you.â
Your moan is low, but itâs still audible in the quiet of the early dawn, and you donât even contemplate on giving into him. You know you want to. And so heâs flat on his back in an instant, with you sitting right on his hard length, only your panties and his briefs separating you as you both desperately seek for some friction.
It turns frantic quickly, neither of you holding back. Lips parted, tongues gliding together, moans and whines mingling as his hands sneak down to your ass, pressing you down hard, the cotton of your underwear jumbled messily between your wet folds already, his cock so hard against your pubic bone, it feels like itâs bruising as you grind back and forth.
âAh, fuck.â You exhale into his mouth, struggling to keep up with his intense kisses, your mind too clouded with want and so many sensations. You choose to sit up, hands planting on his chest, hips slowing down, picking up a lazy pace, which he doesnât seem to mind.
His hands slip under your shirt, holding onto your hips, thumbs digging into your hip bones as he breathes frantically, his eyes focusing on your face first before dropping down to the mess between your legs.
The way heâs staring at you, makes you want to please him, show him everything he's been missing, and the fabric of your top suddenly feels too suffocating.
âShit, baby.â He pants as soon as your shirt hits the floor and your naked body comes into view. âSo pretty.â
And before you can resume the movements of your hips, heâs sitting up, arms are locking around you before youâre swiftly manoeuvred onto your back, your legs instinctively parted far apart for his hips to slot between as he hovers above you, chest just centimetres off yours.
You whine in frustration, needing him closer and he seems to catch on quick, understanding flickering across his soft features as he lowers himself until youâre skin on skin. Your erect nipples deliciously rubbing on his warm chest, the heat radiating off him so grounding and safe-like, making you sigh in contentment.
âYeah? Better?â He whispers into your neck, scattered kisses amplifying your need for him, the throbbing between your legs unbearable at this point, pussy throbbing with emptiness as he takes his sweet time with you.
âPlease, please, please.â You beg like youâve never begged, not really knowing what else to do, your whole body shaking from all the emotions. âIâve missed you. I miss you so much. Please.â
A broken moan echoes from him, hot breath hitting your wet skin as he grinds his hips into yours a little too hard, making you cry from ache and pleasure. And when your hands bury in his hair, finding something to hold onto, his lips are back on yours, tongue in your mouth, messily tangling with yours. Itâs wet and itâs dirty and itâs everything that you need but not enough either.
The kiss is cut short as he pulls back with a loud wet smack, and then his hands are impatiently tugging at your panties. You lift your hips, knees bending to help him out and when heâs back on you, you donât waste time shoving his boxers down as far as you can reach while he tries to kiss you again. Your foreheads lightly bumping at the awkward angle, but neither you or Mark seem to care.
âJust fuck me.â You plead when youâre both completely naked and heâs kneeling between your legs. Youâre out of breath, totally lost in him, not caring about foreplay. All you want is to feel him inside you, as close as possible, to feel that stretch your body's missed so much, that slight sting that feels more good than painful.
âBaby,â He leans over you again, bracing one arm beside your head, weight settling over yours comfortably. His other hand engulfs your jaw, thumb stroking your skin tenderly, eyes full of adoration as they stare into yours, calming the flame in your chest just a little. âWanna take care of you first.â
You shake your head in protest, hands cupping his cheeks. âN-no, I just want you. Please, MarkieâŚplease baby.â
You would normally feel embarrassed, pleading like that. Youâre near tears, your voice trembling with insatiable need as you hold his face like heâs the only thing that can keep you grounded. You can tell by the shift in his eyes that his resolve starts to break, and before he can react, youâre claiming his lips with yours in a hungry kiss, all tongue and spit. You try to focus on the way he kisses you, slow enough to make you impatient, deep enough to make your hips buck into his.
And when his cock slips between your folds â a perfect slide â rubbing against your clit, you let out the most shameful moan, outright pornographic, yet you canât bring yourself to give a single fuck.
âCâmon, just be a good boyfriend and fuck the shit out of me.â You whisper in a sultry voice, the challenge clearly getting to him as he ruts into you with a deep grunt.
âIâm tryna be fucking sweet and take my time with you.â He whines, frustration laced with his tone. He rests his forehead on yours, eyes shut, patience hanging on by a thread.
âI know, I just need you right now.â Youâre so close to breaking him. âYou can fuck me nice and slow after.â
His jaw slackens when you grab onto his ass, fingers digging into the flesh, urging him to move his hips with yours. âFuck.â
âFeel how wet I am?â You whine, the sound of his cock sliding through your slick is obscene. âIâm such a mess, Markie, Iâm gonna fucking lose it, please.â
âYeah?â He pants, sounding almost drunk, his eyes dark when they meet yours, gaze intense. âYouâre a mess for me?â
âYeah,â You whisper, completely at his mercy.
âKeep talking.â His tone hushed, eyes refusing to leave yours and you love it. You love the intensity of it all, the raw passion, the way the tip of his cock meets your clit every time he thrusts forward. Everything.
âWant you in me.â You blink slowly, your legs spreading even more for him, knees bending all the way until they're touching your ribs. âWanna feel how much you missed me.â
A groan rumbles in his chest, eyes rolling back for a second before his mouth crashes into yours. âGonna fuckin ruin you.â
âMmhm,â Your hands grab onto his shoulders, nails clawing, and you hope they leave a mark. âYes, please.â
Youâre so beyond composure, you moan too loudly even at his hand slipping between your bodies, just at the thought of what could come next. And when you feel his hand cupping your whole sex, your legs start to shake. He slides his fingers over the whole expanse of your mound, spreading your arousal everywhere, creating a mess, setting your skin ablaze and without warning his middle and ring fingers circle your clit once â too lightly for your liking â before sliding through your slit and down to your entrance.
âYou think youâre the only one whoâs a mess?â He whispers against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom one before he sucks onto it. âMy dick stopped working because of you.â
âWhat?â
âYou heard me.â His fingers get replaced by what you recognise as the tip of his thick erection. He slides it up and down your slit, stimulating your clit just like he always used to before entering you. âHavenât been able to cum since the last time we fucked.â
âIâm sorry.â You whimper, feeling guilty but also a pang of pride in your chest. âI couldnât either.â
âDid you try?â He asks, prodding against your leaking hole, igniting all your nerve endings as he slowly starts pushing in. Just the tip, but still enough to make you bite down on your lip to keep quiet. âDid you think of me?â
You nod, eyes watering at the memories of loneliness, of the miserable times your fingers unsuccessfully tried defusing a heat that was his to defuse. âAlways thought of you. Still didnât feel the same.â
He returns the nod, length sliding in just another inch, making your eyes flutter up at him. A tear escapes, rolling down your temple. Not from the stretch, just from the unbearable ache in your chest.
âFelt wrong?â He asks softly, hand coming to cup one side of your face as he starts kissing the other side. âLike nothing was good enough?â
âYeah.â You sigh, relieved that he knows the feeling. Your hands slide down his sides and then back up to his chest, feeling his sweaty skin until your arms loop securely around his neck, hugging his body close to yours. âFelt empty.â
With one smooth thrust, heâs completely sheathed in. To the hilt. His hips flush against yours, making your breath hitch and your walls flutter. At how the emptiness you felt for a whole month has started to dissipate. Your body and heart basking in the delightful fullness. The love you feel for him.
âMy pretty girl.â He murmurs against your neck. âIâm so sorry.â
You let out a pathetic sob, the heartfelt apology sitting heavy in your chest as he starts moving his hips, pulling out before sinking back in slowly, giving you time to adjust even though the slide is easy. Careful, shallow thrusts gradually turn into deeper rolls, his tip brushing your cervix each time he bottoms out, and when you bury your hands in his hair, lips finding his, you feel more tears escape.
He slides an arm around your waist, angling your hips up just enough to start hitting the spot inside you that makes you roll your eyes back. The sounds of wet slaps reverberate around the room as he starts delivering faster â but still not hard enough to hurt â snaps of his hips. Itâs quiet apart from that and the soft cries you let out along with his muffled breaths that hit your damp skin.
âAlways feel so good.â He whispers softly, sounding completely lost in pleasure, tongue making contact with your skin as he starts kissing across your collarbone. âMissed you so much.â
You feel useless, only able to cling onto him and wrap your legs around his waist, not letting him pull out more than half his length. You bury your face in his shoulder, lips parting in a quiet moan when he increases the intensity of his thrusts, finally fucking you properly. Hard and fast. Exactly like youâve been begging him to.
âOh my god, yes.â You sigh in relief, completely surrendering to him, letting him do as he pleases. Because youâre his.
âLike that, yeah?â He rasps, his free hand curling in your hair, forcing you to look at him. âTake it, baby.â
He looks so dreamy, itâs earth shattering. His swollen lips nothing short of delicious, his eyes hooded, glazed with pure desire. Itâs scandalous. He shouldnât be allowed to look at you like that.Â
Unable to stand it, you cup his chin in one hand, gently squishing his cheeks before devouring his lips in a heated kiss. Your tongue shoves in his mouth like nobodyâs business, and your pussy clenches at the way his mouth parts for you. Like itâs second nature.
His grunt vibrates against your tits, your nipples achy and sensitive against his slippery chest. You love how you can feel him everywhere all at once, your whines getting louder by the second as he keeps plunging into you, stretching you in the best way possible. Itâs all too much, but so good. Too good.Â
His cock drags against your walls in a way that has you hyperventilating, your cunt squeezing around him like heâs not allowed to pull out.
âYou gonna cum?â He asks mid-kiss, although itâs more breathing in each otherâs mouths than a kiss.
âYeah, donât stop.â You pant in urgency, voice hoarse, almost unrecognisable. âFuck fuck fuck, right there, I'm so close.â
He moans in response, maintaining the same vigor and angle. He doesnât even need to use his fingers, his pelvis is stimulating your clit just perfectly in quick intense slaps that drive the tip of his cock right into your g-spot.
âGod, youâre squeezing me so goodâffuck.â Heâs hugging you so close, one arm still around your waist, the other one curled around your shoulders, hand cupping the back of your neck as you grip onto his shoulders and arms like a lifeline.
Your legs start shaking violently, pussy clamping around his thick length, body locking up for a second.
âPlease baby, cum for me.â He utters in his soft voice that you adore so much, lips brushing against yours. And then he nearly kills you. âLove you.â
Itâs all-consuming. Soul-crashing. Life-altering. You feel like you have no control over your body anymore. Completely giving yourself to him as the tension in your lower abdomen unleashes. You cum with a shattered cry, body convulsing with intense pleasure, walls clenching, uncontrollably kneading his length in quivering pulses.
His thrusts increase in tempo, fucking you harder, becoming messier, pushing through your climax as he lets out a choked up grunt.Â
âLove you too,â you whisper, eyes shut in white bliss. Legs tightening around him, trapping him exactly where he needs to be.Â
âLook at me.â He requests softly, his arm unlocking from your waist before he grabs onto your thigh, prying your legs open again, one still bent over his hip, the other one hooked over his elbow. The new angle allows him to pull more of his dick out before slamming back in. Harder. Faster. Making you mewl from the sensitivity.
You do open your eyes, meeting his heavy-lidded ones, pupils blown out. His skin is flushed as he rams into you, lewd slaps and wet noises sounding around the room, making you unintentionally clench around him.Â
âYou gonna cum for me?" You whisper, voice needy and strained.Â
He nods, eyes closing for a second when you adoringly cup his face in your hands. And a tiny âYeahâ falls from his pretty lips.Â
âWanna cum inside me?â It sounds like you're pleading. Maybe you are.Â
His eyes flutter, full of hope. âFuck, really? Please, can I?âÂ
He's definitely pleading, and you're in love with this side of him. So in love. âYeah, baby, wanna feel you.âÂ
He groans and lowers himself a fraction, lips crashing into yours, arm releasing your leg and coming to rest by your head, caging you in, as he lets his body rub against yours. His tongue licks obscenely against yours, the sounds he lets out swallowed by the kiss as you clench your cunt intentionally this time, urging him to let go.Â
âOh my god.â He whines, sounding unlike any other time you've been with him. The pants he breathes are burning hot against your skin as he gives up on trying to kiss you properly, mouth hanging open against yours now.Â
âThat's it, keep fucking me like that.â You breathe, feeling like you're close to another unexpected climax just from looking at his face. He's drenched in sweat, hair swaying around his face messily as he fucks desperately into you, eyebrows pinched with a look that resembles pain as his lashes flutter.Â
The brutal pace he's set, combined with all the longing and intensity, sends you through another frenzy as you cream all over his cock again. The sensation so unreal you have to look down, and you can see it. The white substance coating his length each time he pulls out. It's filthy. And perfect.Â
He gasps, almost chokes out, âYeah, god- I'm cummingâŚfuck, baby gonna-"Â
âUh-huh.â You nod eagerly, hands still grabbing onto the sides of his face. âYes, yes, yes.â
His body tenses, and then you feel a familiar warm sensation spreading inside your snug walls as he plugs you to the hilt, burying himself as deep as he can, making you shiver. His release shoots out in a hot mess, filling you up in the best way possible.Your pussy still clenching as you feel every throb and jerk.Â
His arms relax, allowing his weight to slump on you completely, hips slowing down, lazily thrusting into your heat, milking himself and extending both your orgasms for as long as possible while causing some of his cum to spill out, making you feel dirty and content at the same time.Â
You donât know who moves first, but youâre suddenly kissing. Slow and deep. Lips somehow matching the rhythm of your bodies. Touches become gentle, your fingers gingerly trailing up and down his spine as you breathe against each other like itâs a need.
âShit.â He whispers tiredly, sounding like he's realised something, head hanging low as he stares at the mess between your bodies.Â
âItâs okay.â You reassure him with a chaste kiss on the lips. âIâm way past my ovulation, youâre good.â
He visibly relaxes after that, forehead resting on your shoulder with a sigh, and you both hiss when he slowly pulls out. Your legs twitch a little before dropping limply on either side of him. You lean down a little, reaching for the tangled covers, now resting just below his cute bum, and you bring them up to his shoulders, cocooning him in your chest and then wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers combing through his damp strands.
You lie in the quiet after he rolls you both on your sides. His arms holding you safely, skin still tingling, breathing slowly returning to normal. The memories of the month apart â the ache, the loneliness, the empty nights â feel distant now, replaced by the warmth of him pressed against you and the first hints of sunrise.
It all feels familiar, yet it doesnât â no blurred lines this time. No wondering.Â
Just contentment and soft touches and fluttering hearts.
You press a soft kiss to his chest. âIf you ever leave me again, Iâll hunt you down and kidnap you.â
He sighs a tiny laugh, nuzzling your hair. âIâd probably come crawling back anyway.â
It's only after a few days that you and Mark finally decide to leave the comfortable confines of your love bubble and socialise with your friends.Â
It's one of the first hot days, sunshine all over the place, everyone very much still riding the end-of-exams high, still excited to celebrate and make the most of the remainder of student life before summer.Â
The reality of everything sort of hits you when you and Mark are walking down the street, his fingers intertwined with yours while he's on the phone to Chenle, trying to figure out the whereabouts of the picnic your friends have decided to organise.Â
"Dude, what damn tree?" He complains with a laugh. âIt's a fucking park, there's plenty of trees. Can you just turn on your location? No one's stalking you for crying out loud.âÂ
You hear muffled voices through Mark's speaker before he just agrees to something with a hum. âAlright, sweet, we'll see you in a sec.âÂ
His eyes are instantly on you the second he hangs up, smile bright. âShall we go pick up some drinks? There's that corner shop just before the bridge.âÂ
You nod excitedly, smiling at the way he playfully sways your connected hands. âYeah, it's too hot to raw dog it.â
The sun is hitting him just right, his skin glowing, eyes looking a brighter shade of brown in the light, outfit simple but sexy at the same time. Baggy white tee and cargo shorts. Effortless.Â
Dreamy as always.
When you're in the store, trying to decide whether you want to get a peach ice tea or a canned cocktail, Mark's hand casually comes to rest at the small of your back, just above your ass. The gesture is so small, barely noticeable, yet so domestic. And of course, you do notice, butterflies letting loose in your stomach, giddiness difficult to contain.Â
âJust get the iced tea and a couple of those aperol spritz cans you like.â He suggests, his front pressing against your side. Gently but enough to cause goosebumps. âYou always get them for pre gaming, don't you?âÂ
He's not even looking at you, totally oblivious to the effect he has on you. He's too busy scanning through the shelves, warm hand absentmindedly trailing to your hip, thumb stroking ever so softly, the subtle heat of his arm around your back seeping through the thin fabric of your summer dress. You're thankful for the store's aircon being on, somewhat helping with the heat creeping up on your cheeks.Â
For some reason, the moment, though insignificant, makes you feel so many emotions. You carefully observe his side profile. The way his eyelashes touch his cheek each time he blinks. The way his lips form the most adorable pout as he's in deep thought. The word âboyfriendâ keeps ringing in your head and you find it hard to believe that Mark finally holds that title.Â
Your boyfriend.Â
You realise you haven't spoken for a few seconds when he looks down to inspect your face, expression baffled. âWhat?âÂ
You shake you head, bringing yourself out of the trance, eyes staring into his. âNothing. I just love you.âÂ
His face beams. Eyebrows shooting up, eyes wide as a blinding smile takes over his features, teeth on full display. âI love you too, baby.âÂ
The hand on your hip, drags you closer as his lips press the sweetest kiss on your cheek. The skin-on-skin contact settles your heartbeat a little, but the flutters in your tummy persist. And you accept that they'll be there for a long long time.Â
Itâs all clearer than ever to you now. Because you just know that you and Mark Lee were meant to be ever since that first messy night in freshersâ week. And annoyingly, even back then, you could tell he wasnât just a fleeting encounter. He left an imprint you were never able to erase.Â
Looking back now, you realise that you shouldâve just accepted your fate. You shouldâve let him in your life much sooner.Â
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING THEM THEIR HAPPY ENDING I WAS SO NERVOUS I DID NOT EVEN REALIZE OR I FORGOT THAT THE 3RD PART IS ALREADY RIGHT. THERE. GODDDDDDD I WAS CRYING PATHETICALLY THE WHOLE TIME I READ THE SEQUELS. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I AM OBSESSED. there may be times where they were really annoying because of the choices they made but i will protect these two so much. they're both soooo down bad for each other :((((((( i hate that i forgot most of what i wanna say to u as im typing this rn but pls just know that you wrote everything so so fucking well : ( you really know the SLOW in slowburn, the it's clear, it's there, but it's also not there's still no clarity about what they really are.... the uncertainty..... I WAS GRIPPING MY SEAT SO HARD I WAS SO AFRAID OF WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN... SO SO GLAD THIS ALL TURNED OUT WELL :")
note â this oneâs gonna have pretty lengthy parts, so be aware but mostly enjoy..!
if money wasnât so tight, thereâs no way you would be doing this.
youâve thought it over a thousand times, running every possible scenario and outcome in your head. more often than not, those scenarios end badly. yet here you are, standing at the edge of stairs that lead to a gym below the streets of incheon. men push past you, muttering quick apologies as they bump into you. none of them are sincere, you noticed, but why would they be?  they donât care about you. you, on the other handâŚyouâre being paid to care about them.  theyâre why youâre here.
the offer had been posted on a bulletin board in the nursing studentâs lounge on campus. it was a crumpled piece of paper, with a handwritten message scribbled across it. you had spotted it when you were looking at the board for a summer job, and the uniqueness of it caught your eye. you had pulled it down from the board, reading it over.
wanted:
looking for an individual with medical background/first aid training.
complete medical degree not required.
for all inquiries, contact johnny suh.
you remembered running your fingers over the phone number listed. it was a peculiar request, to say the least. johnny suh, whoever he was, seemed to be searching for someone with medical training, but didnât require a full medical professional. stillâŚa job was a job. and it had looked like it was the most promising thing on the board.
later that day, you had found yourself calling the number, and within three minutes of dialing, you had set up a meeting with johnny suh at a cafĂŠ a few blocks away from campus. when you walked in, your eyes scanning the shop for someone who wouldâve posted the ad, you had instantly known who he was. the young man by the window with a rugged luxuriance and the smell of cigarette smoke wafting from him stuck out from the crowd of students studying, and he had seemed to be the only patron who would hire unlicensed medical personnel.
âhi.â you had walked over slowly. âare you johnny suh?â
âthat depends.â he looked you up and down, a small smirk at the corner of his mouth. âwhoâs asking?â
âmy name is y/n y/l/n. we spoke on the phone?â you took the advertisement out of your bag and handed it to him.
âright.â johnny nodded, motioning to the chair across from him. âsit down.â
âalright.â you had taken a seat slowly, your eyes on the door behind him. you hadnât quite decided not to run. âsoâŚyou didnât say what kind of jobââ
âwhat are your medical credentials?â johnny cut across you, sipping his coffee.
you remembered thinking that that was rude, and completely unprofessional for an interview. of course, now that you actually knew johnny, the action was completely in character.
âiâm a third-year nursing student.â you had answered, reaching into your bag to pull out your student id. âand iâm trained in first aid.â
âyou ever stitched somebody up before?â
you frowned at the bluntness of the question. âum, yes, butââ
âwhat about set broken bones? noses?â
with an incredulous look on your face, you had glanced around the coffee shop. could anyone else hear this? when the answer to that question appeared to be no, you had leaned forward, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice.
âmr. suh, what exactly is this a job interview for?â
what it was for, it had turned out, was an underground boxing ring in the heart of incheon. johnny explained between sips of black coffee that he owns the gym that everyone fought in, and the business is growing. the only downside (the use of the word âonlyâ had made the corners of your mouth twitchâthere was only one downside to an illegal boxing ring?) is that with no regulations, men get injured. a lot. and because the boxing is illegal, they canât exactly keep going to the hospitalâŚwhich was where you came in.
after seeing your student id, your first-aid certifications, and testing you on the spot by having you look at a bandaged cut on his leg to see if it was infected (âit is.â you had told him immediately), johnny had hired you on the spot.  for three hundred dollars a night, you would be watching illegal boxing matches with a first-aid kit by your side. if anyone got injured too badly, they would be brought back to the locker rooms, where you would be waiting. there, you would bandage cuts, check for concussions, set broken bones, stitch people up with no anestheticâŚ
you shuddered as you look at the gym door again, finally pulling yourself from your thoughts.  itâs definitely not an ideal situationâor even a moderately ideal situationâ and youâre not looking forward to it in the least. but being a student in korea isnât exactly cheap, and the money is good, even if itâs dirty. really dirty.  probably bloody, from the fighters that you would be expected to stitch up from awful injuriesâ
âdonât.â you mutter to herself, taking a deep breath. âeverything is going to be okay. itâs fine. this is fine.â
âhey, lady.â a man approaches you from behind, giving you a strange lookâwhich is to be expected, you thought, seeing as how youâre talking to yourself in the doorway of an underground gym. âare you going to stare at the door all night, or are you going to open it?â
âsorry.â you say sheepishly, stepping out of his way and allowing him to step around you down the stairs.
knowing that thereâs nowhere else to go but insideâand knowing that you couldnât block the doorway foreverâyou quickly made your own way down the stairs and through the heavy doors.
you arenât exactly sure what you had expected an underground boxing gym to look like, but the room in front of your eyes pretty much met your expectations. the gym is dark, with one bright light in the center hanging over the beaten-up ring. there are a few dark-colored mats scattered around the ring, along with people getting ready to watch that nightâs match. everyone you saw, with their black clothing and leather boots and tough demeanors, looked like they belonged at an illegal gym, whereas youâŚyou glance down at yourself for a moment. next time, you think, youâll remember not to wear lavender.
still, no matter how out of place you felt, youâre here now, and if university and nursing school had taught you anything, it was to act like you belonged until you did. with that in mind, you held your head up high, ignoring the stares of the gym patrons as you made your way to the back hallway. although youâre not exactly sure where johnnyâs office lied within the dark and claustrophobic gym, you felt that the more cigarette smoke you can smell in the air, the closer youâre getting.
despite passing many identical doors with the same chipped and peeling paint, you continued until you reached the door at the end of the hallway. the black paint is scuffed, but in far better condition than any of the other doors around you, and you could smell the cigarette smoke wafting out from the cracks beneath it.
âjohnny?â you knocked on the door softly, just in case you guessed wrong.
a deep recognizable voice answers from the other side. âyeah. come in.â
with permission, you open the door, coughing a bit when a wall of cigarette smoke hits you. âhiâŚ?â
âhey, doc.â johnny has a cigarette tucked between his lips as he speaks, and he hardly glances up at you from the papers in his hands. âhow you doing?â
âiâmâiâm good.â you say, your voice tinged with nerves. âi just wanted to check in before the match.â
âgood. here.â johnny stands up and walks to a cupboard in his office, pulling out a weathered leather case from within. âthis has everything you should need in it.â
he hands the case to you, and you open it slowly, not entirely sure what johnny was handing to you. inside, you found an assortment of medical supplies, all placed haphazardly inside the makeshift medical kit. you root around a bit with one hand, quickly taking stock of the contents. bandages, antiseptics, not-yet-frozen cold compresses, painkillers, a stitch kit⌠âiâll need all of this?â you asked, looking up at johnny with a surprised look in your eyes.
âlook around you, doc. this isnât a daycare.â johnny snorts, puffing on his cigarette. âwe bare knuckle box. we donât have personal physicians checking up on us, rules, regulationsâŚthis is about making money. and sometimesâŚit gets messy.â
âbut if you needed a medical professional, then why didnât you get someone whoâs finished school?â you asked as you shut the case and clasped it closed. âtheyâd be a lot more experienced than a student.â
âbecause medical professionals have a duty to report abuse to the cops.â johnny shrugs as if the reasons are of little consequence to him. which, you thought, they are. âyou donât. and students need the money more.â
you pursed your lips as you clutched the handle of the case tightly in your hand. âwhat happened to your last student?â
johnny sighs with a flip of his hand, waving off the question. âhe pissed off the wrong guy and went from being the doctor to being the patient. thatâs why i hired a pretty girl this time.â
you scoffed, the ease you had been beginning to feel around johnny fading within a moment as you remembered where you were. you meet johnnyâs gaze with a harsh look. âdonât patronize me, johnny, or iâll walk out that door right now.â
johnny raises his hands defensively, an indifferent look on his face, and you understood that itâs not an apology.
âlook, doc, the last guy had a mouth on him. by all accounts, he deserved it.â johnny walks back around to his desk, tapping his cigarette ash off into the glass ashtray that sits there, already half full. when he looks back up at you, his gaze is softer than before, and you canât quite decipher the flicker you see in his eyes. âi donât mean to be patronizing. but if any guy in here says shit to youâŚlet me know. got it?â
you had a feeling that thatâs as close to an apology as youâll get from johnny, so you nodded tersely. âgot it.â your attention turns back to the case in your hands. âso i justâŚwait by the ring?â
johnny nods, tucking his cigarette back in his mouth as he sits back down at his desk, his thoughts moving back to the paperwork in front of him. âyou got it. watch the match. have some fun, have a drinkâŚif anything goes too wrong, iâll pull you up to the ring. if everything is fine, youâll come back to the locker room after the match to make sure my guys donât have a concussion.â
âsoundsâŚgood.â you shift the case around in your hands as you spoke, unsure of what else there is to say. âiâll go to the audience, then.â
johnny nods, but offers no other advice as you left. not that you expected it.
by the time you made it to your designated spot at the edge of the crowd, the gym is already filling with people who are buzzing about the fight. the smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and sweat is thick in the air, and after your third time of getting shoved by a man you didnât know, youâre wondering if sewing some medical patches onto your jean jacket will stop you from getting shoved at the next match. of course, youâre not quite certain youâll be attending the next match, but you make the plans to do it nonetheless.
the area around the ring continues to pack itself full with people, and as you stared at the spectators around you, you wondered just how much johnny is making off this one fight. youâre not sure how much people have to pay to get in, but with at least two hundred people here, not including the money the spectators have put down on betsâŚyouâre certain johnny will be coming away with a tidy sum.
as the crowd starts to scream, your attention shifts from the people around you to the one bare aisle leading to the ring, where the first fighter has begun walking out. he has a heavy build with broad shoulders. top heavy, you think, as he climbs onto the edge of the ring and ducks under the ropes. he raises his arms as the crowd cheers, apparently loving the attention, and spits to the side before his coach slides his mouth guard in for him.
you wrinkle your nose as you watched the fighter display his muscles to the crowd, and at how much the crowd seems to love it.
thereâs a crackle of static over the speakers as the announcer begins to speak. âas last yearâs reigning champion, lee hoseok is aiming to maintain his title this season.â the crowd cheers again as the fighter, hoseok, rolls out his shoulders.
âthose who watched him box last season know that getting this giant off his feet is a massive task. will his opponent be able to do it?â
the crowd jeers as the announcer mentions the opponent, and you got the feeling that they donât think the other guy has a chance. when the other fighter begins to walk towards the ring, you canât help but agree.
this fighterâs build is much leaner, despite the apparent muscle mass on his arms and legs. heâs more evenly built than hoseok, and while you knew that will be helpful, you canât make yourself feel anything other than worry as you watched the fighter climb under the ropes. and although the crowd roars, you can make out a look of focus and determination in his eyes.
âfacing our champion is rookie lee jeno. despite beginning training just three months agoâŚâ
three months? you bit you lip in concern, watching as jenoâs coach pulls him down to look him in the eye, giving him his mouth guard as he does. you leaned over to a man next to you, unable to stop yourself from asking a question thatâs at the forefront of your mind. âdonât they use weight classes to match fighters?â you half yelled the question over the cheers. âhoseok seems so much bigger than him!â
âthis is illegal fighting, sweetheart.â the man laughs at your question as he takes a sip of his beer. the hairs on the back of your neck bristles at the pet name, and you once again remind yourself to keep your guard up as the man continues to speak.
âthey donât care about weight classes.â he says easily, nodding towards the ring. âthey care about putting on a good show, so they can make money.â
you turn your attention back to the ring, making sure to keep your distance from the other spectators. jeno is surveying the crowd now, and for just a moment, he locks eyes with you.
as his gaze meets yours, you get the impression that heâs sizing you up just as much as youâve sized him up. his eyes flick down your body and back up, but not in the way most men in the gym have been doing it. when the boxerâs eyes flick back to yours, you donât see a look of lust or desire reflected in his eyes. instead, you see concern.
heâs about to fight a behemoth, you thought, and heâs concerned because iâm in the crowd of the fight?  the idea would make you laugh, if you didnât have a sneaking suspicion that youâd be setting his bones before the end of the night.
jeno finally looks away from you after a moment, centering himself again to be ready to fight. you watched as he makes his way to the center of the ring, his gaze having to turn up to meet the eyes of hoseok. the bell rings, signaling the beginning of the match, and the loud ring makes you flinch as you watched the two boxers begin to fight.
you had been right when you initially sized them up. hoseok is the first to throw a punch, all of his weight behind it, but jenoâs smaller stature allows him to duck easily, weaving out of the way from the first few strikes. as he ducks from a punch, jeno manages to land the first hit of the match, his fist connecting directly with the right side hoseokâs ribs.
your face lights up with surprise as the crowd cheers. however, the surprise quickly turns to worry as hoseok uses his anger to move faster, finally landing a blow on jeno. not letting one hit deter him, the smaller boxer is quick to recuperate and keep himself in the moment. already, you can tell that he plays the long game, while hoseok seems to favor a more offensive stance.
as the match continues, your concern turns to curiosity as you examine the fighting style of both boxers. hoseok is always the quickest to throw out punches, but jeno manages to dodge more punches than he receives, only standing still long enough to land his own hits on hoseok. the audience, while shocked by the proficiency of the rookie at first, begins to cheer loudly as their champion fights for a victory. the cheering only gets louder when blood splatters from hoseokâs nose to the floor of the ring.
you winced, searching the crowd for johnnyâs familiar face. you find him in the back, watching with his arms crossed, and raises an eyebrow in question as you caught his eye. he gives a quick shake of his head. this isnât anything to worry about, the action says. worse is coming.
the worse comes quickly, youâve found, as the groan of the crowd draws your attention back to the ring. jeno is doubled over now, presumably from a punch to the gut. you watched in horrified silence as hoseok lands another punch on jenoâs jaw, knocking the smaller boxer onto his knees.  however, the groan of the crowd quickly turns to a cheer as jeno pushes himself to stand once again, a grunt escaping his lips as he straightens. spitting the blood out of his mouth, he attacks hoseok again with a new energy, one wilder and more uncalculated than before.
the crowd roars louder as jeno pummels his opponent, and you watched in shock as he knocks hoseok back in a daze. jeno hits him once, then again, and again, until hoseok goes down with a dull thud that echoes through the gym. he stays there, lying limp, as the referee begins to count, and doesnât rise when jeno is declared the winner.
âlee jeno has managed to begin his journey with a win!â the announcer yells, barely audible above the cheering crowd. jeno wipes his bleeding mouth with a shaky hand, a grin just beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth as the referee raises his hand in the air in victory.
the crowd continues to yell and cheer as people turn to those next to them, rehashing the matchâs highlights. you see money change hands a few times, and while you wanted to get out of the crowd thatâs becoming rowdier by the minute, youâre not exactly sure where to go.
a hand on your elbow brings you from your thoughts, and you whip around, cuss words hanging off the ends of your lips, ready to throw at whoever grabbed you. when you see johnnyâs face, however, the words fade away, and you grab the case that youâve all but forgotten is beside you as he begins to guide you back to the locker rooms.
âtime to get to work, doc.â johnny calls over the crowd, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure youâre following.
you nodded silently, taking deep breaths to center yourself for the task at hand. you couldnât let yourself be uncomfortable now; itâs time for you to work.
johnny lead you through the crowd and down the hallway, taking a left turn towards the locker rooms. the echoes of someone groaning get louder and louder the closer you both get, and as you walk inside the locker room, youâre certain youâll find jeno sitting in front of you. instead, your eyes settle on hoseok with a hand to his nose and his head tilted back.
âyou need to lean forward.â you told him immediately, instinct taking over as you sat down next to hoseok while opening your case.
hoseok grunts, his eyes flicking to yours as he does. âiâm bleeding, sweetheartââ
âand leaning back is causing the blood to run down your throat. itâs harmful to your health, sweetheart.â you countered in an icy tone, shooting him a glare before slipping on plastic gloves.
johnny crosses his arms as he watched the exchange, a smirk making its way onto his face. âiâd watch my mouth if i were you, hoseok. donât piss off the person about to set your nose.â
you glanced at johnny for a moment before turning back to hoseok. although youâre still weary of him, johnny seems to be the only one looking out for you in the gym, and you made a note to bring it up with him after you finished your work.
upon examination, you find that jeno has broken hoseokâs nose, and gave him some pain medication and a cold compress before making a splint, setting it as best as you could in a gym locker room.
âthere.â you sat back and pulled off your bloody gloves. âthat should be okay. keep taking ibuprofen to help with the pain and swelling, and if it doesnât seem to heal, try going to a real doctor. alright?â
hoseok nods jerkily. although you can see the doubt in his eyes, he doesnât contradict you again. âyeah. alright.â
âwhat do you say to the doc, hoseok?â johnny prompts him, an expectant look on his face.
the boxer glared at you, but still manages to mutter a quick âthanks.â
although it doesnât seem sincere, you donât challenge it. âyouâre welcome.â you replied curtly, closing your case before standing up again and turning to johnny. âwhereâs jeno?â
after washing your hands, johnny leads you down a corridor to another section of the locker room. Â jeno is sitting on the bench between the lockers, unwrapping the tape from his hands as his coach leans against the lockers while speaking to him. Â from the towel around his neck, wet hair hanging around his face, and damp chest, you gathered that he showered after his victory. while your observations begin as professional, your mind soon drifts to notice how the water droplets cling to his chest and arms, and how his fingers flex as he unwraps his tape. the clearing of his throat pull you from your thoughts, and your eyes snap back up to his face as he speaks.
âjohnny.â the boxerâs voice is smooth and low, and you see recognition from earlier flicker across his phase. âwhoâs this?â
âthis is doc y/n.â johnny lights a cigarette as he speaks, despite the disapproving look that you gave him. âsheâs the one whoâs going to be saving your injured ass.â
âyou can just call me y/n.â you rolled your eyes slightly as you refute the nickname that, to your displeasure, johnnyâs already grown fond of before turning your attention back to jeno. âiâm just going to make sure youâre alright, mr. lee.â
when you addressed him, his coach laughs lightly, crossing his arms against his chest. you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, your mouth open to ask about the laughter, when a voice cuts you off.
âno oneâs ever called me mr. lee. doyoung seems to think itâs humorous.â a light chuckle escapes from the boxer, although his is more controlled than that of his coach. âyou can call me jeno. just jeno.â
you nodded as you sat next to him on the bench, opening up your medical kit and slipping on gloves. you had to focus at the task at hand. âalright. how are you feeling?â
âiâm fine.â jeno replied easily, running a hand through his wet hair. âhealthy as a horse.â
a snort leaves doyoungâs mouth at that comment. âa horse that got the shit beat out of him.â he turns his attention to you with his next sentence. âhe got hit pretty hard in theââ
âthe ribs, yeah.â you finished the sentence for him, your eyes already examining the bruises developing on jenoâs abdomen with a keen eye. âi saw. thought you were a goner.â
jeno shrugs a bit in response, seemingly unconcerned with the punches he sustained during the match. âiâve had worse.â
âmay i?â you asked, extending a gloved hand. at jenoâs nod, you began to press around his abdomen. âcanât imagine much worse. you mustâve really pissed someone off, then.â
a laugh rumbles out from jenoâs chest at the comment, but a wince quickly replaced the expression of mirth on his face as his muscles contract. although he quickly covers it, you didnât miss it.
âdoes that hurt?â you asked, pressing on his muscles again while gauging his reactions. âwhere? here?â
jeno clears his throat quietly, carefully controlling his expression as doyoung stepped closer. âuh, yeah. a bit. just a bit sore.â
âjohnny,â you glanced over your shoulder at him before rummaging in your kit for the stethoscope you saw earlier. âcould you grab me a cold compress?â
johnny leaves the locker room as you pressed the stethoscope to jenoâs chest and back, listening to his heartbeat and breathing. âdo you have any abdominal pain? any shortness in breath, or dizziness?â
jeno shook his head slightly. âno. none at all. iâm just sore.â
you pull the stethoscope from your ears and touched his jaw lightly, frowning at the purple bruise thatâs blossomed under his skin. âyou got hit pretty hard here.â
jenoâs jaw flexes under your touch as he chuckles. âi know. i was there.â
âdonât be a smart ass, jeno.â doyoung chastises him from his position against the lockers.
âiâm not! iâm just sayingââ
âsheâs trying to help youââ
you tuned out the argument between coach and boxer as you set the stethoscope back down in the kit, making a note to bring your own next week. in fact, you thought of a few things that would be useful to add to the makeshift medical bag johnny gave youâa manual blood pressure cuff, better suturing supplies, maybe some more bandagesâ
ây/n?â
âhm?â doyoungâs voice pulled you from your thoughts just as johnny entered the locker room again, the cold compress in hand. you accept it from him before turning your attention back to the coach.
âsorry, what was that?â you ask again, closing the medical kit.
âi asked if you thought jeno was being a smart ass.â doyoung gave a pointed look to his boxer. âand if he should apologize.â
you shrugged as you handed the cold compress to jeno. âitâs fine. itâs definitely not the worst thing anyoneâs ever said to me.â you turned your attention back to jeno, whoâs frowning at you again, like he did when you first locked eyes in the ring. that look is back, too, you noticed. the concern. like the comment you made worries him.
you cleared your throat, pushing the thought out of your head. âyou have some bruising and swelling, but nothing is broken. no internal bleeding, either. at least, nothing detectable.â you said with a sigh, pulling off your gloves. âi think youâre good to go, but if you start experiencing nausea, dizziness, or bleeding from any orifices, then you need to go to the doctor. a real one.â
jeno pressed the compress against his swollen jaw, wincing as the cold makes contact with his flushed skin. âare you not a real doctor?â
a laugh bubbles out from your lips as you shook your head. âiâd say iâm a half doctor at best.â
âthe best half doctor this gym can buy.â johnny chimes in, pausing after a moment. âwhich, honestly, isnât saying much, butâŚâ
âright.â you tossed your gloves in the garbage can sitting against a locker. âso, again, if you start feeling strange, see a real doctor. one thatâs actually licensed.â
jeno nods, standing up and extending a hand. âthanks, doc. i appreciate it.â
it took you a moment to realize he wants to shake your hand. once the realization hits you, you extend your hand cautiously, locking it with his in an awkward fashion. you prayed it goes unnoticed by jeno, but judging from the laughter in his eyes, it hasnât. your own cheeks flush as you pulled your hand away.
âof course. iâll see you at your next match.â you say quickly, and escape the locker room behind johnny before you can say anything else.
johnny takes you back to his office, shutting the door behind you before going behind his desk and removing a cheap picture of a city off his wall, exposing the door of a safe. he opens it quickly and counts out three hundred dollars in cash before slipping it into an envelope for you. âhere, doc. you did good tonight.â
you had almost forgotten that youâre doing this for cash. âthanks.â you take the money from him, tucking it inside your jacket. âiâm just glad i didnât need to stitch anyone up.â
johnny laughs as he lights a fresh cigarette, sitting down at his desk chair as he puffs on it. âthis time.â
âyeah. this time.â you eye the cigarette with distaste. âsmoking kills, you know.â
johnny glanced at you with an incredulous look on his face, unfazed. âi run an illegal boxing ring. do you think i care?â he exhales smoke slowly. âi got more to worry about killing me than smoking.â
you shift your weight from one foot to another as a band of anxiety twists its way through your stomach. âdo i have to worry about that, too?â
ânah.â johnny waved his hand indifferently, clearly unconcerned. âno one cares about a nursing student with a few bandages and some ice packs.â
âright.â you said slowly. your previous hesitancy about your security at the gym returns, and although you tried to hide it, you knew it was written all over your face.
johnnyâs keen eyes notice right away. âthatâs a good thing, y/n.â for the first time that night, he used your name to address you. âtrust me, you want to go unnoticed here.â
âdo i?â you paused in front of the door, your hand resting on the handle.
âyeah. you do.â johnny taps the ash off his cigarette as he gave you a long look. âi know you noticed howâŚdifferent you are from our regular visitors.â
âyou mean how iâm not a gigantic man dressed in all leather who enjoys making sexist comments towards women?â your voice dripped with sarcasm as you rolled your eyes. âbelieve me. i noticed.â
âyou want to go unnoticed here.â johnny says again, firmer this time. âdress in darker clothes. blend in more. no good men spend their time here. not one. understood?â
the serious tone in johnnyâs voice causes a chill to run down your back, and your hand tightens on the handle of the door. you donât doubt what heâs saying; you already had your suspicions that youâd need to do more to blend into the crowd next week. but being directly warned about the danger youâre putting yourself in gave you pause.
âyou seem like a good kid, and iâll do my best to make sure no one fucks with you. but you have to be watching your own back, too.â johnny took a long drag of his cigarette. âi got enough shit on my plate without keeping tabs on you.â
âgot it.â you nod sharply, your fingernails digging into your palm as you steadied yourself . âblend in. watch my own back. go unnoticed. understood.â
TAGLIST â @voucearse @suhkissed @yeoreobun
Š 2026 MARKBIGDICKLEE all rights reserved â please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred! i donât take requests.
THIS HAS WRECKED ME AND IT IS WRECKING ME STILL. why does it feel like i am the one getting punched repeatedly. i am still so seated.... by the edge. GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH
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tagline: you were rebuilding a bridge while he was burning it down.
synopsis â three years after divorcing jeno, you've found a careful rhythm in co-parenting your son jun. the old fights about his work schedule and emotional distance have faded into polite exchanges and shared custody arrangements. but when small moments of connection start to feel like second chances, you begin to hope that maybe you could try again. though, it all falls apart when jeno asks to introduce jun to his new girlfriend. suddenly, you're forced to confront a devastating truth: the man who claimed he "wasn't good at relationships" during your marriage has apparently learned how to love properlyâhe just needed someone else to do it with.
i've been putting this off for the longest time that the series is literally complete now... read this in one go last night and i'd say the swollen eyes and headache from lack of sleep are all worth it. i regret NOTHING. this is REALLY. PAINFUL. and i loved every single thing. angst really angsted. hit all the right spots. i especially love how this all turned out .. my girl finally got to catch a break, have her own happy life that she so clearly deserves SINCE. god i love this family (ALL OF THEM) and as much as i STILL have this grudge with jeno kinda... he redeemed himself, i forgive him lmao but seriously i really think how his story turned out by the end is perfect. it's fitting with how the story went. i miss all these babies already my happy family đĽš
SYNOPSIS: lee haechan ăź beloved retired prosecutor ruins his own career with his big mouth. as his lawyer, you have to save his career, or what's left of it, and you rock his world while trying to do so.
PAIRING: tv personality!haechan x female lawyer!reader
GENRE: acquaintances to strangers to lovers, humour, smut.
WORD COUNT: 16.4k
CONTAINS: appearance of other idols. love triangle?? but not really. mentions of sensitive topics but none involve the main characters directly. haechan gets called both haechan and donghyuck. one bad and possibly offensive joke. banter, humour, smut, jealousy, lots of dialogue. sub!haechan, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, praise and degradation kink, nipple play, unprotected penetrative sex, riding, choking. author's note at the end.
inspired by michael jackson's song you rock my world.
read more of TASTE OF SUN HERE
ÂŠď¸ KONGJJEN 2026. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.
âIf itâs morning for you, good morning,â Haechanâs ears ring as he watches the flat TV screen in his living room, âIf itâs night, then, goodnight! And rememberâŚâ
âIf you donât see me again, have a nice life!â Haechan repeats the words of the host. His words. Words that he, himself came up with. His punchline â which was stolen by the crusty rat who took his place, who managed to steal from him even the intonation as he spoke the words.
Haechan scoffs, turning the TV off, and throwing his slippers away, not caring where they land.Â
He made a colossal mistake, and heâd like to shirk his way out of it easily by saying it wasnât him. The only problem? He said it on television, everyone has seen his stupid face plastered on their TVâs as he possibly fumbled his career forever.Â
But how was he supposed to know people donât have a sense of humour? Right after it slipped past his lips, his bosses warned him about the repercussions of such a joke, and even if they thought the joke was great and howled with laughter while slapping him on his back repeatedly, the audience didnât appreciate it.
He sits back on his disgustingly big couch, and rewinds what happened that one night.Â
He told his usual jokes, everyone laughed, the live band used the drums and trumpets for effect. And then, just because he felt very brave and his ego was skyrocketing after looking at the amused faces in the audience, he thought it would be a good idea to add one last joke â instead of his usual concluding line for the end of the night.
âAnd since this was a topic tonight⌠before I get to wish you a good night,â He announced, grin stretching from ear to ear, showing his pearly white teeth â a smile everyone loves or, better said, used to love, âI got one last joke about abortion that never gets old⌠just like the babyâŚâ
Crickets. No one laughed, not even a sound coming from the live band â not even the disappointed sound of the trumpet at his flopping joke.Â
He cringes remembering how he ended the night, the phone calls from his producers and bosses, and them wishing him the whole thing wouldnât escalate into something bigger.Â
Except, it did escalate.
His amazing rating dropped and, to put it simply, he got called in the office and put on unpaid leave until things settled and waters calmed down.
And even after being put on leave, people still came for his head. Women, activists, whole communities fuelled the online debates, criticism, and hate train over his words and actions. He saw his life being desiccated, under a magnifying glass for everyone to judge and study thoroughly, trying to find past mistakes that could be the final nail in his coffin, and which could erase him from being in the public eye.
Lee Donghyuck, who managed to work hard and make a name for himself. Lee Donghyuck, who moved on from his passion and dream job, leaving being a prosecutor for a better and, what he was hoping to be, a calmer future.
Lee Donghyuck, the almighty county prosecutor left his life behind after audiences loved his presence and made him famous, turned into his television persona â Lee Haechan â and the audiences stepped on him like a disgusting cockroach, ready to get discarded of him, who he once was, and what he once represented.
And worst of all, he got a call asking him to come into office tomorrow â and Haechan knows thatâs not a good sign for him.Â
You know who Haechan is. Of course you do, whoever claims not to know who he is is either lying or has been living under a rock for the past couple of years.Â
He used to be a very diligent prosecutor, who took his job seriously and did his best trying to catch bad guys and getting them convicted for the longest times for their heinous crimes. He used to be one of the best in his field, of the highest competence, so much that lawyers already knew they were on thin ice trying to fight him in court, their clients most likely ending up in jail.
He had an innate talent at what he was doing, and an honest love for his profession â so much that people could just tell he lived and breathed to be a prosecutor. This passion opened a door for him â in television this time.Â
There used to be this one program, with people dropping by either in person or with a phone call, and they brought up their legal battles asking for advice â all televised. And Haechan was the one expert the producers called most of the times.Â
Phone calls turned into physical appearances at the studio, where he interacted with the audience. He walked in the studio like he owned the entire planet. Expensive suits, expensive leather shoes, Rolex and jewellery adorned his wrists. He had a glint in his eyes, one that could make anyone fall for his charms.Â
He was cocky, and for a good reason. He knew just how good he was at his job and, quite frankly, at everything in his life. And although his cockiness might have rubbed some people the wrong way â a handful of people out of an ocean of amazed and satisfied audiences â Haechan was very talented with his charms. He talked to people like he was close to them, like they were long lost friends. He gave them pieces of advice that one would have given to the people you only cared about the most, or to real clients. Not some random person on a TV show.Â
He connected with the people, and everyone loved him. He became a legend, well known, well liked â and viewer rates skyrocketed.Â
So much that they gave him his own night show. Thatâs when he became Lee Haechan â but youâve known him for far longer than youâd like to admit.Â
Youâve known him from when he was Lee Donghyuck, a simple student. He studied law and was an insufferable presence in your classes. Your opinions clashed, but then you united against people who had opinions that not only were different than yours, but also wrong. Itâs like you were allowed to fight each other, but the moment someone else tried to intervene or take either one of your places, you teamed up to fight back.
You canât really say you were total strangers to each other. You acknowledged each other, and each otherâs talent at what you were doing. Back then, you thought his presence was aggravating, with his usual talent at picking up fights with you and bickering during debates and classes, and you swear he had a sick glint of satisfaction in his eyes every time he saw you getting worked up over him contradicting you.
You got to work on some projects together, and he was close to some people from your small circle of friends. When youâre a law student, thereâs not much time you can spend relaxing or going on dates, so the friends you make in your first year are basically the ones youâre stuck with. You heard stories, whispers, but not once did you consider Donghyuck more than what he was â a friend of a friend, who liked driving you insane with every chance he got.Â
Everyone liked him, got along with him well, yet you kept your distance â mainly because you couldnât stand his cockiness when he was so satisfied with his driving you up the wall, or when he knew he was right and that he won an argument or debate.
And then your studies ended, and he climbed the success ladder with big and quick steps, while you liked taking your time.Â
You focused on your career, and you liked gloating that your success rate was almost impeccable. Sure, the amount of work load couldnât compare to what Donghyuck had to work with as a prosecutor, but you never diminished your efforts and your talent.Â
For this exact reason, you picked up doing pro bono work every chance you got â being driven by the thought that you could do your part and help people out, with this small aspect at least, and it became an important part of your life, one that helped you stay grounded.
After reminiscing the past, and knowing whatâs to come in the next weeks, it boosts your confidence and makes you completely satisfied with yourself, like nothing â and no one â can take you down.Â
Which is exactly why the drive to the studio feels extremely exciting, like your skin is tingling to get to work â this being the first time you work on this type of case.Â
Your heels clink on the shiny floors as you make your way towards the conference room, where your bosses and your client are waiting for you to make an appearance.
And with a few minutes left to spare before your meeting starts, you stall on the hallways of the headquarters, because you hate showing up earlier â or later, for that matter â for appointments. You like being very precise, organised in every little aspect of your life because, after all, these are the only moments you try to stay away from unpredictability.Â
âOh, hi!â Youâre snatched out of your thoughts as you look at your watch. Two more minutes left before going in. âIs there a reason youâre not going in?â Johnny Suh, one of your bosses, smiles while looking at you, all confused.
You shrug, taking a sip from your coffee, âStill two minutes left,âÂ
He shakes his head like he doesnât take you seriously, and the sly smile on his features makes you understand he really isnât, âDonât be silly,â He gestures for you to walk towards the door, huge hand barely touching your tricep respectfully in order to guide you in, âHeâs already here,â
He opens the door for you, and you give him a small smile, complying with his request to go in. Heâs your boss, after all.
âI told you thatâs not it! I didnât mean it that way, I was jus-â You recognise the voice, high in pitch with frustration, and he stops his rambling when he turns his head to look at whoâs walking inside the conference room.Â
âY/n?â Heâs in disbelief, and a small crease forms in between his eyebrows.
âYou two know each other?â Johnny asks, sitting down at the huge table, âOf course you do! I forgot you used to work in the same field,â He looks over a few papers as he takes his blazer off, âThen thereâs no need for formal introductions, right?â
You take your seat right across from where Donghyuck is sitting, and you watch as he pouts with confusion while looking at you. You smile, a kind of devious and calm smile heâs never seen on your face before â and it almost creeps him out.
âWhat are you doinâ here?â He asks you, leaning in over the table as if your answer is meant to be a secret, for his ears only. As if the room isnât filled with producers and executives.
âY/n is your lawyer,â Another executive speaks up before Johnny can ease Donghyuck into it.Â
Youâre impressed by the straightforwardness, realising that the sooner the bandaid gets ripped off, the better for everyone.Â
âMy what?!â Donghyuckâs voice is high in pitch, proving to you that his usual exaggerating persona from the past hasnât changed a bit. âI donât need a lawyer,â
âYet,â the CFO intervenes, and Donghyuckâs head snaps to the side to look at her.Â
His eyebrows furrow while taking his sweet moment trying to understand what is going on.Â
âIâm sorry but-â He snakes his head incredulously, his gaze moving between your figure and Johnnyâs, âAm I being sued for something?â
âNot yet,â The CFO corrects him, and judging by the crease between Donghyuckâs eyebrows, you know heâs getting frustrated.Â
âBut we canât take chances on this, Haechan,â Johnny speaks up, âWe know that your image is being taunted right now, and that people are very much against you,â He explains, like it should be obvious to Donghyuck that things arenât going to calm down so easily and so soon. âShall anything happen, Y/nâs here to assist you the best she can while also trying to work on your public image and clear your name,â
âShall anything happen,â Donghyuck snaps, âI can represent myself very well, you all know this already,â
You look at him, now that you have the proper opportunity to see him in real time, and not on a screen. Itâs been so long since you last saw him in person, youâre almost in owe at how his features remained the same, yet they became bolder, stronger, more contoured. He matured, and it brought a glow to him that you never imagined possible â not to his annoying face, anyway.
Eyes have become fiercer, like theyâve seen so many things. His jaw is visibly more defined, stronger, and when it sets with annoyance it shows you just how much heâs changed. You saw this exact jaw so many times in the past, and with every little sign of contradiction coming from someone else against him, he acted the same â jaw setting when upset, tongue in his cheek when he was taking it lightheartedly.
You look at his hands, that have also changed over time. Veins are more prominent under his tanned, honey-like skin, jewellery now adorning his wrist and fingers with beautiful golden rings and bracelets complimenting his skin tone.Â
Itâs like he hasnât changed when it comes to his behaviour, but physically heâs become something nearly out of this world â as much as you hate to admit it. Never in a thousand years were you thinking youâd ever be admitting to yourself how good-looking heâs gotten, and certainly you donât plan to share your thought with anyone else. You guess youâll have to take this secret to your grave, especially because you know that if your thoughts made it to his ears, youâd never know the end of it.Â
âHaechan,â Another executive calls his name, as a warning. âThis is Y/nâs job, not yours. I think youâve done enough, â
Donghyuck turns around to look at you, straight in the eye. Everything the execs are telling him, all the instructions and pieces of advice theyâre directing his way, you know heâs not listening. Heâs looking at you like heâs ready to take a bite out of you, and if you didnât already know him and his ways youâd be afraid right now.
Instead, you pucker your lips trying to mask your smile, trying to keep a professional façade in front of everyone.Â
What is he so worked up for, anyway? You ask yourself. No one said heâs not capable of representing himself, but you were literally hired for this kind of matters, and itâs ironic that heâs your very first client since becoming a corporate lawyer.Â
Youâre fairly certain Donghyuck has paid no attention to anything going on during this meeting, so you already know youâll have to pay extra attention to everything he does until everything calms down.
As the meeting comes to an end, and everyone gets up to leave, Donghyuck doesnât move â doesnât even bid anyone goodbye as they exit the conference room.Â
Itâs just the two of you now, and you look at him as he watches every single movement of yours. The way you click on your retractable pen before putting it away in your tiny and fancy pencil case; the way you pile your files before putting them back inside your shoulder bag.
âWhy are you here?â He rasps, still not relaxing in his seat. His elbows seem to be glued to the table as he keeps his fingers intertwined, not letting emotions betray him. Or so he hopes, because you know him pretty well to know heâs pissed by your presence.Â
âHave you not been paying attention?â You mock him, raising your eyebrows at him, âIâm the corporate lawyer,â
He huffs a mocking breath, rolling his eyes at you before clicking his tongue, âI donât need a lawyer,â
You sigh, suddenly at your limit after hearing him going on like a broken record, âYou donât. Yet.â You snatch your bag away from the table, gracefully placing it on your shoulder â albeit its heaviness, âYouâre a fool if you think Iâm here for you, though.â
âWhat?â He barks, not able to refrain anymore. He has so much pent up rage from the past few weeks that heâs been dying to let out, and youâre doing your best to make him snap. Just like the old days. âWhat does that even mean?â
âI thought you were smarter than this,â You reply, but it comes out more as a question dripping with mockery, and it has him pushing his tongue in the inside of his cheek, âIâm a corporate lawyer, which means that Iâm protecting their interests and their image, not yours. Iâm sure you already know how that works⌠When you get in trouble, they also do,â You remind him, and youâre not even sure why you have to go through this with him right now â heâs supposed to know all this stuff already.Â
âI need to go now,â You announce, finally turning your back to him, âWeâll keep in touch,â
Thereâs a gram of satisfaction jubilating inside your body, and you canât help the smirk that takes over your features as you leave him behind, knowing his ego and pride are now sore.
Haechanâs ears pick up a muffled sound, but heâs still too tired to care. Heâs been home for a while, still on a leave, and he hasnât seen you ever since you left the office with that arrogance that makes him want to climb walls.Â
The muffled sound becomes clearer, like someone properly banging on his door, and he waits a few more moments praying that whoever is at his door will soon go away. Heâs not expecting anyone, heâs sure security downstairs didnât let anyone get to his door, yet the knocking is incessant â and it gets on his nerves.
His barefoot steps thud as he makes his way, dizzy and sleepy, towards the front door. He looks through the peephole before letting out a groan, but unlocks the door nonetheless.
âWhy are you here?â He locks the door after you, and you kick your heels off, out of politeness, walking down his entry hallway towards his living room.Â
He lives in one of those luxurious buildings â and you didnât expect less coming from a former prosecutor who made a fortune out of his job, and a fortune more from his new job in television. His living room has you fighting the urge to let out a low whistle in appreciation, and you throw a quick glance around trying not to be too obvious with your curiosity. Everything is tidy; the decor is neat, showing his personal taste with every item of eclectic furniture and memorabilia, and the place smells like him.Â
You turn around on your heels, facing him once again, âYou didnât pick up my calls,â You explain, looking him up and down.
He snickers as he looks for his glasses around the living room. His hair is ruffled, his voice is raspy, and heâs still in his pyjama shorts â you definitely snatched him out of bed.
He sits on the couch, placing his glassed on the bridge of his nose before looking at you, âI donât pick up calls from unknown callers,â He shrugs, getting more comfortable in his seat, but not offering you to take a sit.
Not that you would need him to offer you anything, not even an invitation. But because youâre in a hurry, you decide to just stand a few feet away from him.Â
âI told you weâd keep in touch,â You bark, furrowing your eyebrows at him, âSo didnât you think that maybe, just maybe, your lawyer is the one calling?â
He shrugs, muffling a yawn, âYou could have sent me an email,âÂ
âI did,â Your reply is dry, and you see him avoiding your gaze. âGo get ready, weâre going out,â
âOh?â He squeals delighted, âLike a date?â He quips, grinning ear to ear, but stands up nonetheless.
You roll your eyes at him, âJust dress nicely,â
âWhere are you taking me? Iâm not a brunch person, I prefer candlelit dinners, you kn-â Heâs interrupted by your steps, following him to his dressing room. âWhat are you doing?â
You let out the fakest, most mocking sound of endearment while looking at him and at how he keeps his hands over his clothed chest, as if you could see through his t-shirt.
âI didnât realise you are a prude,â You mock him, looking at the enormous dressing room. âGo ahead, itâs not like I havenât seen a manâs bare torso before,â You instruct him, and you canât help but look at how an entire dresser is full of expensive suits and shirts made of Egyptian cotton. You suppress the need to let out a low whistle for the second time today, âI need you to look impeccable, I know the press is still after you. They canât catch you lacking,â
He hums, and youâre sure he didnât pay attention to what you just told him. That, or he just doesnât care if heâs caught dressing like a homeless person. But it would be disastrous to his image, especially because most of his public appearances have been nothing short of perfect â and dressing badly right now could start discourse around press, and around everyone actively being against him.Â
You see him pulling his white t-shirt off his back, tossing it on the loveseat in the corner of the room.Â
Your eyes fall on his V line, out of instinct. Itâs defined, it travels down to the waistband of his pyjama shorts, that are hanging dangerously low on his hips, and you feel like you canât take your eyes off of him. Like thereâs a magnetic force that doesnât allow you to look away from him â and the same force has your eyes travelling across the waistband, gaze shifting to the happy trail on his lower abdomen.
You gulp, finally taking your eyes off his tanned skin, looking for something more appropriate to gawk at â like the vanity behind you. You turn around as if you didnât just momentarily lose yourself in the sight of Donghyuckâs bare torso.Â
If he noticed your gawking, he doesnât say anything â and you go about your inspecting his vanity while he gets dressed, moaning about you invading his privacy.Â
You look at the many bottles of perfumes scattered on the vanity, realising just how neat he is even with arranging his cologne and perfume bottles. You pick up a few, smelling them, and youâre instantly slapped by his usual scents â the ones he used back when you were students.Â
âExcuse me, miss⌠sorryâŚâ He mumbles while sliding up next to you and into your personal space, snatching the bottle of Diptyque from your grasp and spraying it on his bare chest and, surprisingly, all around himself.
You cough, stepping away from him, and you see how his slim fingers button his shirt up with dexterity.Â
You shake your head, âDid you not apply deodorant?âÂ
A cocky smirk appears in the corner of his mouth, âI donât need that,â He licks his lips, âYouâll learn that about me,âÂ
You throw him an incredulous look, âAnd how would I do that?â
That insufferable cocky smirk makes an appearance once again, and he shakes his head while styling his shirt, âThere are a few ways. Youâll see⌠eventually,â
His cockiness irks you. You liked him better when he was sulking over the fact that you are his lawyer.Â
You managed to book an important interview for him, one that can straighten his career back to the way it used to be.Â
Heâs going to talk about his old cases, heâs going to talk about all the times he helped people struggling with legal matters. Heâs going to bring back all the good heâs done to society, and youâre sure that will stop the online hate train heâs still being the victim of.Â
You explain everything to him, you line the whole plan down for him to understand, to know what he should expect from the interview. Given that today is going to be just about getting a new suit for the interview, you think he needs to have enough time to mull over his thoughts and possible answers involving the topics about his past.Â
You also made sure they wouldnât bring up the recent controversy â you made a clear script of topics to be addressed, youâve made it clear to the producers. And you think this is the perfect opportunity for him to clear his name, save his career, and dodge any more criticism from the public. That, and the fact you know the editor working on said program, so itâs going to be easy to have everything under control.Â
âAs always,â You start, touching the collar of his shirt, styling it on his nape as he looks at himself in the big mirror, and your fingers comb through the strands of hair that are getting longer, âDonât talk to the press. Ignore them, I know you have a big prosecuting mouth, but try your best not to make this even worse,â
Your words irk Donghyuck, who follows after you as you stand by his door, putting your heels back on before heading outside.Â
Youâre acting like heâs an idiot who runs his mouth. Like he doesnât know what he has to do now that heâs walking on thin ice, and he wants to remind you that heâs been around the press more than you have.
âStop bossing me around,â He rasps as he locks his front door, and you can tell that heâs getting worked up, by the way heâs pouting while talking. You walk ahead of him, going towards the lifts, âYou show up to my place, dictating orders that I have to follow because youâre⌠my lawyer,â He barks, and it comes out more as a question, âYou think you know best, but Iâm not your puppy! Iâm not following you around!âÂ
You stop in your tracks, and he nearly slams into your back as he doesnât catch your pausing. You turn around, pouting at him.Â
âIâm not asking you to follow me around, Donghyuck,â You mock him, posing and looking up at him, âYouâre the one literally choosing to walk behind me, puppy boy,â You point your head at him, and you grab his cheeks with your free hand, squishing them together to make him pout, âYouâre my puppy because you genuinely want to,âÂ
You turn around, heels clinking on the marbled floors of the hallways as you make your way towards the lifts once again, âYa cominâ?â You ask him without halting your steps.
Donghyuck stays still for a moment, right as and where you left him. He looks at the way you sway your hips as you walk down the hallway, and he feels like the collar of his shirt is strangling him. Heâs very confident about what he said about not needing deodorant, but he didnât think youâd have him in the palm of your hand, talking down to him and making him sweat.
He clears his throat, choosing to stay silent as he follows you, and the thought that he is your puppy is starting to be very convincing inside his brain.Â
When interview day arrives, Donghyuck walks inside the studio like he owns the place â his usual confidence overflowing and becoming obvious even to the blind.Â
You pull him by the sleeve. âTone your ego down,â You whisper through your teeth, for him to hear, âBe humble,â
âI am humble,â He looks down at you, the proximity of your bodies making his minty breath fan down on your face. âImagine just how insufferable I am when I donât have to walk on glass,â
âOh,â You push at his chest, taking a step back, âI donât have to imagine,â You turn around, your back now facing him, and you roll your eyes out of frustration.Â
He snorts, âI know you rolled your eyes at me,â He comments, voice low and raw with amusement. You turn around to look at him, and you see him grinning at you, pearly teeth on display as he tries to control his laughter, âYou might not realise this yet, Y/n, but I know you,â He rasps, still amused, yet the glint in his eyes seems serious.
His words dawn on you, and your stomach flutters â but you donât want to overthink about his words and the implication behind them. There can be endless, and you choose not to think about any right now.
Donghyuck gets dragged towards the changing room, and you follow after him and the stylist. You keep a close eye on him.Â
Heâs leisurely making conversation with the stylist, making her ease into conversation and talk to him like theyâre long lost friends. His innate gift of communicating is once again proven to you, and frankly to anyone else too. Even the ones mad at him seem to forget why theyâre keeping away, once he opens his mouth.Â
Such charms are a gift, but also a curse â judging by where it got him these days.
You look at him, all styled, all ready to go in his beautiful navy suit you personally handpicked for him a few days ago. The blue brings out the tan of his skin just perfectly; he smells like Diptyque once again, and his longer strands are styled beautifully in order to frame his face.Â
You look up at him, while he plays with the buttons of his suit. The slope of his nose is perfect, and he pouts his full lips seemingly without realising, too busy paying attention to his sleeves.
You look at him in all his glory, and you let out a sigh.Â
You place the palm of your hand right in between his shoulder blades, your other hand grabbing him by the base of his neck. You push on his back and at the base of his neck simultaneously, making him adjust his posture.
âUh,â He huffs, and his eyes widen as gets startled by your sudden actions. He clears his throat, trying to fight a smile.
âYou need to learn to stand up straight,â You judge, still pushing on his spine and throat.
He finally breaks, smirk obvious even to you, and you look up at him just in time to see him licking his bottom lip.Â
âHowâd you know I like this?â He provokes while smirking, looking down at you with the corner of his eye, but doesnât change posture the moment you take your hands away from his body.
âPervert,â You mumble, averting your gaze.
He chortles, turning around to look at you, posture still straight. Heâs even taller than before, towering over you, and you hate that you have to look up at him.
âOh câmon!â He pulls you by the arm to get you to look at him, âYou act like you weren't gawking at my naked body the other day,â He rasps lowly, keeping the banter between the two of you as you wait for him to be called for the interview, âI might be a pervert, but youâre not better than me!âÂ
His hands extend towards you, trying to grab you by the arms to get your attention â or any other reaction out of you â but youâre quick with your movements as you slap his hands away. He manages to grab you by the wrist, and you stop squirming as you feel his warm and velvety skin touching yours.
You look up at him, only to notice his eyes trailing across your features, and right after looking you straight in the eye for a few seconds, his gaze falls on your lips. His gaze is sultry as he doesnât look away, he doesnât even let go of your wrist, yet you become relaxed to his touch.
You feel your stomach fluttering. Itâs the look in his eyes, itâs the tongue still playing on his bottom lip, his cologne flooding your senses thanks to the proximity of your bodies. Your senses are alert, he managed to wake them up with a simple touch, and you suddenly feel like hotness it starting to pool in the pit of your stomach.
Your doe eyes, and the slight blush of your cheeks are enough to rile Donghyuck up, and enough to give him a reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, this doesnât feel so wrong.Â
Just as you see him smirking once again, opening his mouth to let out something that you are sure is going to be pushing your buttons, he gets interrupted.
âY/n?â A manâs voice snatches you out of the childish banter with Donghyuck, and you turn around to look for whoever just called your name.Â
A big smile stretches on your face, âSungchan!âÂ
The tall man takes a few steps, draping an arm around you, âYouâre here, finally!â He smiles down at you, and then his gaze shifts towards Donghyuck, who's standing like a lost puppy behind you, âLee Haechan! Itâs so nice to finally get to meet you in person!âÂ
Donghyuck nods, seriousness suddenly taking over his features, and he looks at the tall man whoâs now on the receiving end of all your attention. He seems like a positive person; a helper, maybe. Someone you can rely on at all times â but he doesnât want to imagine you, of all people, relying on the man who has you grinning from eat to ear right now. It should be him, the source of your grinning and decompressing, not this person you probably donât even know as well as you know him.
He feels hotness starting to bother him, creeping up his neck â all the way to his jaw and ears. He feels uncomfortable, a feeling he hasnât experienced in a long time. He starts feeling like a puppy once again, and he has the urge to take his tie off and possibly beat this man with it. Who cares if he adds one more controversy to the whole fiasco? Certainly not him, because heâs ready to do it if it means he has your attention back on himself.
Just as heâs ready to intervene in your conversation â even if he doesnât know how, but he thinks he can find a way to ruin the shameless batting of eyelashes from your part â a voice calls for his name, announcing that heâs ready to go.Â
You turn around to look at him one last time, signalling him to be calm and level headed.Â
âIâve always wanted to meet him!â Sungchanâs eyes sparkle while looking at the small screen as you follow the interview.Â
Donghyuck makes pleasant jokes to break the ice, witty sarcasm dripping off the tip of his tongue, enamouring the host, and you know heâs safe. Heâs got this â like always.
Your attention shifts to Sungchan. You met him a long time ago, fresh out of university, during language classes you picked up as a hobby. You bonded over common interests and the fact that you attended the same course allowed you to study together from time to time, and spend more time together.
But then you started becoming busier with your career, and attending those classes became close to impossible. You kept in touch with Sungchan, and now he promised heâd help you out with Donghyuckâs interview.
You take your eyes off the small screen yet again, once you hear Sungchan humming.
âAre you busy tomorrow night?â He asks, voice raw, âWould you like to have dinner with me?âÂ
You blink at him, and you try to keep your usual seriousness, but it becomes difficult when you notice how much his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. You move your weight on your other leg, averting your gaze as you try to mask your delight.Â
The interview will air in a couple of weeks, and by that time everything will calm down with Donghyuckâs issue. Plus, this gives you the perfect opportunity to discuss more about how youâd like the interview to come out.
âPick me up at eight,â You tell him, smiling softly, right before your gaze returns to the small screen.
Time goes by, Sungchan eventually leaves the studio, and Donghyuck seems to have the host wrapped around his pinky finger.Â
He waltz towards you, confidence coming out of every single pore on his skin, and he winks your way as he goes back to changing in his casual clothes.Â
Heâs relaxed, heâs his usual self as he bids everyone goodbye, and even stops to shake hands of a few executives, all while carrying his expensive suit over his shoulder. You watch him being in his natural habitat â surrounded by people, being loved and appreciated by them. He smiles, lips curving while his smile reaches his eyes as he tries to dodge certain topics and turn people down in the most polite way. And he has the tact for it, he has diplomacy, yet he has the easygoing humour that knows exactly when to attenuate conflictual topics.
Youâre still wondering why he got himself in this position in the first place. Going from being a prosecutor â profession which, by the way, endowed him with all the skills he sports nowadays â to becoming a tv host who has easily fallen in disgrace, victim of sensitive judgement and especially of cancel culture.
âSo,â He starts, approaching his Porsche in the parking lot, âShould we have dinner together, tomorrow? You know⌠to celebrate the fact that tonight was a success,âÂ
You raise your eyebrows, and you see the unfaltering glint in his eyes only getting bigger with excitement. You think itâs because your plan was successful, he enjoyed the interview, and it will be enough to clear up all sorts of confusion when it comes to his controversies.Â
âIâd love to,â You start, and you think the glint in his eyes became even more sparkly, âButâŚâ You suck air through your teeth, wrinkling your nose.
Donghyuck doesnât like how you wrinkle your nose â or, to put it better, what it implies.
He nods insistingly, pushing you to continue, âIâm fairly sure you didnât have anything planned,â
You shrug, âSungchan kinda beat you to it,â
The sky falls on him. While he was following your orders, another man worked his charms on you?Â
âYouâre ditching me for someone you barely know?â Heâs getting worked up, but heâs trying to keep it light by pushing his tongue in the inside on his cheek as he smiles with disbelief.
âSungchan and I are friends,â You retort, suddenly not liking how you have to explain your life to Donghyuck â who has been a total stranger to you, and with whom you only reconnected a month ago.
âFriends?â He sniggers, disbelief making his voice high in pitch, âIf youâre friends with him, then what does that make us?âÂ
âYouâre my client, Donghyuck,â You spit out, arrogance matching his during his worst days. This is the first time Donghyuck hates the way you say his name. âIâll call you soon. You better pick up my calls!â You warn him as your heels clink on the concrete, as you walk towards the exit.
And Donghyuck feels his insides churning as he thinks of what youâve just told him.Â
Unbelievable.
Itâs unbelievable how he is at home, bored out of his mind, and youâre out on a what? A date?
He likes to think itâs just a simple chit-chat with an old friend, but heâs a man and he knows how the ones of his kind can get when thereâs a pretty girl around.Â
You called him his client, but he remembers how you called him a fool for believing you were his lawyer.Â
Your usual biting back every time he tries to get closer hasnât changed. Maybe you misunderstood his intentions, and no, this isnât about him asking you out â because he totally did that, and was hoping youâd finally warm up to him.Â
You literally rocked his world when you reappeared in his life, yet youâre now out with that Sung-something, and he feels like he is going to lose all progress made with you up until now. Is it a crime that he wants to crash your supposed date? That he doesnât care if the press finds him wandering the streets as he looks for the restaurant that man took you out to?
Instead, he picks up his phone. He wants to send a text, just to make sure youâre having fun â but who is he kidding? He wants to send a text to bring your attention on him.Â
How long have you known this Sung person for, anyway? Donghyuck bets the history between him and you feels heavier, fuller than whatever friendship you have with that guy because, after all, as much as you might not have liked it, you two were always around each other all those years back.Â
He sighs, taking a sip from his glass of wine, and he lets his intrusive thoughts win. He dials your number, but just as expected, you donât pick up. So he insists, because thatâs what heâs best at â pushing your buttons.
âYou better be dying and for some reason Iâm the last number in your recents,â You spit through gritted teeth, as you pick up his call.Â
He smiles like a fool when he finally hears your voice, âI am dying,â He chuckles, playing with the rings on his fingers, âDying to see you again,â
âUnbelievable,â You let out an outraged mumble. He canât see you, but he knows you just rolled your eyes at his comeback.Â
If only you could see him now, youâd see his pupils are the shape of hearts as his eyes glint just imagining you reacting to him.Â
âWhy did you call me? Iâm kinda busy,â You burst his bubble, and heâs the one rolling his eyes now. Just the thought of your whereabouts and the company you keep right now is making his throat go dry.
âOh, really?â He plays dumb, yet he knows he canât fool you, âWas it tonight? I forgot about that,â Heâs shameless, and he hears your scoffing.
âWe literally talked about this last night, Hyuck,â His heart skips a bit at the way you call his name, because only people who are close to him can use his government name â and he certainly feels you being close to him, as much as neither of you have ever addressed this before.Â
âI must have forgotten,â His tone drips with fake innocence, a pout forming on his plump lips.Â
You hate that you can envision him right now â in his home attire, his fluffy hair unkept, only combed through by his fingers, glasses resting on the bridge of his pretty nose, bare feet taking steps between the living room and kitchen.Â
âSo, what? Are you on a date right now?â He challenges, finally letting you know why heâs calling. You make a sound that he takes as a confirmation of his fears, âWith Mr Lanky?â
âDonghyuck!â You warn, outraged and tired. âYouâre lucky heâs gone to the restroom and couldnât hear this useless conversation,â
âOh, I donât know, gorgeous,â He smirks to himself, âHeâs been gone for a while. What if heâs got the runs after talking to a gorgeous girl like yourself?â His tone is low and, as much as you want to hang up the call, his voice makes your stomach flutter.Â
That, or the cheese soufflĂŠ is the one to blame.Â
âCome by later,â He rasps, and you almost think you didnât hear him right, âIf things are disastrous and he really shat himself⌠just come by,â
And he doesnât wait to hear your reply. He doesnât want to hear a smart comeback coming from you, but he hopes youâll come to him.Â
And while you donât show up to his place like he asked you, you certainly think about him for the rest of the night. Sungchan, who seemed like a knight in shiny armour when he picked you up, has suddenly shifted in your eyes â especially after the phone call from Donghyuck.Â
Your energy deflects, youâre sure the man across the table picks up on this as well. The more you look at him, the more you realise he just isnât what you want and what you need.
His jokes arenât obtuse, offensive, or genuinely funny either. The sparkle in his eyes is there only when he talks about work, and you hate that you reached a point in which youâre comparing him to the obnoxious person hunting your mind.Â
Truth be told, no one does it like him. You realise that even your past so-called rivalry between the two of you was something you missed while he was out there trying to conquer the world.Â
Suddenly, the night seems wasted. The cheese soufflĂŠ too insipid, the steak too dry, the company not what you were hoping for. And not because Sungchan is a bad guy with an abysmal personality, but because heâs not Donghyuck.Â
âEverything okay?â Sungchan asks you at some point, and you realise you havenât been listening to him, and that he probably noticed.Â
You nod, giving him a small smile, just hoping that itâs enough to fool you both. Everything seemed to be going well until Donghyuck called you.Â
âDo you think you can send me a copy of the interview after youâre done with it?â You mumble absentmindedly, playing with the fork in your hand.
Sungchan smiles, teeth on display, âY/n, Iâm not here to talk about Haechanâs interview,â He announces, and a lump sets in your throat, âI wanted to have this opportunity to ask you out,â
Oh, you mouth as you find it difficult to keep your eyes on him.
He lets out a huff of laughter, albeit you know itâs not light and genuine, âBut I guess itâs better if we keep our friendship this way, right?â Heâs hurt, but heâs faking it not to make you uncomfortable.
âIâm sorry, Sungchan, I didn-â You try to explain but he shakes his hand, smile still present on his lips.
âNo worries! I dropped it on you out of the blue, I apologise for that!â He doesnât have to apologise for his feelings, yet he does â literally thinking that he made you uncomfortable with his small and innocent confession.Â
Your chest suddenly hurts, and your eyes feel like theyâre becoming fuller with unspoken feelings and emotions, and he pats your hand from across the table as he senses his mistake.Â
âI donât want you to feel bad, âkay? Weâre just at different places in our lives, even if your and someone elseâs are perfectly aligned right now! I just had to shoot my shot, I hope you can understand,â Heâs awfully comforting, and somehow if feels even heavier inside your chest.
You try to shake this strange feeling away, but your insides start churning at the unbearable thought that you rejected the man in front of you, and at the thought of your bubbling feelings that need to be addressed soon. Â
The door swings open, and you already think this is a bad idea. The smirk in the corner of his mouth confirms that maybe you were better off at home, in your pyjamas.
Itâs been a few days since you last spoke to Donghyuck, and as much as you hate do admit it, your last interaction with Sungchan planted a thought in your brain. One that you canât really ignore. Instead, you show up to his doorstep trying to get the answers you need.
âWowza, gorgeous!â Donghyuck smirks, eyeing you from head to toe. He moves away from the doorway, allowing you to walk in, and you stop by the entrance. âI think you really like my place, thatâs why you drop by all the time,â He rasps, eyes glinting, âThat, or maybe you just like me,â
You roll your eyes, glance stopping on one picture by the entrance â that you didnât notice last time you were here. Probably because his sleepy figure was standing in front of it, unknowingly blocking your view. You recognise the picture, itâs one of the last pictures you took with your friends as a whole group, back during your university years â before Jaemin relocated to another big city, before one of your girl friends got herself into rehab; back when everything seemed normal and felt whole. You spot yourself in a corner, hugging Jaemin and Yizhuo â your closest friends during university â and you spot Donghyuck in the other corner, smiling at the camera like heâs the sun itself.Â
It was one of the last outings you did as a group, right before graduation, and right before life got busy for all of you. Looking at all the faces in the picture, you realise that was one of the best trips you took, and you think of all the times Donghyuck made the outings better and less boring.Â
He sees how youâre getting lost in the nostalgia of the past, as your gaze travels along the faces in the picture. Truth be told, that picture is there for one reason only, and said reason is now looking at it with eyes full of emotion.Â
He looks at you once again. You look spectacular â black dress that kisses your curves and shapes the right way, your naked shoulders seem so soft and smooth and he has to fight the thought of what your skin might feel like under the burning skin of his hands.Â
Youâre gorgeous, and a lump forms in his throat as he feels like youâve never been more unattainable than right now.
Are you⌠perhapsâŚ
âGoing on a date?â He canât help but ask. He sees as your gaze moves from the picture, to look at him, and you put the frame down, âHowâs skid marks?â His tone is bored as he turns around to walk towards his kitchen island.
You take your heels off, and you follow him towards his kitchen with angry patters as your bare feet take steps on the hardwood floor.Â
âDonât call him that!â You bark, his nickname for Sungchan suddenly upsetting you, âBe nice, heâs helping us,âÂ
âIs he?â He asks, not interested in the slightest to hear your reply, âIs that why youâre going out on dates with him? Or is it because heâs your friend and Iâm your client?â Suddenly heâs attentive like a vulture â he wants to hear your reply to this one question.
âCan you be serious for one moment?â You question, not wanting to bicker with him right now.Â
His cocky smirk makes an appearance, âIâm a prosecutor, Y/n. I can see youâre stalling,â He retorts, and he takes pleasure in seeing you biting your bottom lip, trying your best not to snap at him. âBut alright, gorgeous. To what do I owe the immense pleasure of having you here tonight?âÂ
You shift your weight from one leg to the other, and your hands go to your dress before you can control yourself.Â
âI was promised a dinner,â You purr, matter-of-factly.Â
Donghyuck wants to grin, but fights it. How did you manage to stay out of his life for so long? Itâs beyond his understanding. You make him want to start howling at the moon like a depraved dog, which reminds him of how you called him a puppy before.
And remembering the way you looked up at him as you did so, touching him, talking down to him â it literally gives Donghyuck goosebumps. But heâs not ready to admit this to anyone other than himself so, instead, he does what he knows best â he acts like heâs unfazed.Â
He gets ready, as you look around his place. Despite him being home ever since he was put on unpaid leave, the whole place is spotless. You think itâs because heâs been living off take out all this time, and that heâs used one or maybe two cups to drink from, but youâre impressed either way.
He shows up wearing a tux, and he steps out of his dressing room manoeuvring a bow tie.
âOh, Iâm sorry!â You fake a gasp, âI didnât know we were attending the fucking Oscars!âÂ
Heâs in front of the mirror, styling his bow tie while looking at you through the mirror. His eyes are piercing, he doesnât dare look away â eyes locked onto yours â and he smirks.
âYou did it first,â He points at your dress, âYou thought weâd be staying in with you looking like that?!â He exaggerates, wrinkling his nose, âNo way, baby,â
âDonât call me that,â You mumble, moving towards the door, but you grab him by the sleeve to get his attention on you, âBut do you think this is a good idea? Going out right now⌠with you and your problems?â
âY/n,â He sighs, quickly checking his pockets for everything he needs before heading out, âYou have to know me better than this by now⌠to know that itâs been so long that I donât give a fuck anymore,â He opens the door for you, and this time you wait for him by the door, instead of walking in front of him towards the lifts, âAnd I can get us a table literally anywhere. Name the nicest place you wanna go to, and we can get in,â
âI think thatâd be the case if you werenât a prosecutor who turned into a disgraced tv personality,â You ridicule him as you walk on the long hallway, but he doesnât seem too offended by it. You might be right, anyway.Â
âItâs worth trying, at least,â He shrugs, and then he turns around to look at you with that cocky smirk thatâs so typical him.
âWhat?â You sigh, looking at the led arrows signalling where the lift is coming from.
âSo basically you admitted to showing up looking like trouble, thinking weâd be staying home?â He rasps, stupid grin of victory on his face, and then he tsks, âYou just wanted to seduce me,â
You punch him in the stomach, but he doesnât flinch. Instead, you step inside the lift before he can register what youâre doing, âLetâs see how seduced you get by me making you take the stairs,â And you press the button, urging the doors to close before he can stop them with his foot or hand.
âThat wasnât very nice,â He retorts when youâre finally out on the street.Â
You discovered he has four luxury cars parked in the underground parking lot of his building, and given your dress code tonight, he went straight to the Porsche.
âBut you did it nonetheless,â You point out, looking at the pedestrians crossing the street, âJust like a puppy,â
He doesnât even fight it, because he knows youâre right. Instead, he chooses to ignore it for his own good.Â
He looks at you, as the red lights from the cars ahead contour your pretty features. And to think that out of endless possibilities you got back into his life by being his lawyer makes him feel like becoming a disgraced tv personality really helped him in his destiny. If it werenât for his big, problematic mouth, he would have been alone and miserable right now â in his luxurious apartment, with his four cars parked underground, with lavish dinners and a reckless dating style. Instead, you showed up.
He canât and wonât take it for granted.Â
âWhere are you taking me?â Your voice is small, almost as if your mind is somewhere else.
âI have a few options, if they take us in,â He jokes, using your words, âIs there something youâre craving, gorgeous?â
You actually think about it. As you take your sweet time trying to think of something, your glance wanders around his car â and it finally lands on Donghyuck.Â
Heâs relaxed, even as he speeds. His tux brings a certain air to him, like heâs the most expensive and most untouchable man on this entire planet. Confidence oozes from all his pores, even as he does nothing but keep a hand on the steering wheel â and you feel your insides churning, but you desperately hope for it to be because of hunger.
âYou know what Iâve been thinking about lately?â You speak up before you can control yourself. His curiosity makes him throw you quick glances before his eyes go back to the road, seemingly taken by surprise by your change of tone. This isnât going to be about food, and he knows it, âYou were too good at what you were doing for you to be remembered by the public as nothing but a fragment of a proper scandal. It actually upsets me,â
Donghyuck doesnât know what to answer, mainly because he doesnât see it as you. Heâs sorry youâre upset about this matter, and he wishes he could take it all away from you. He also wishes he could speak up and have a proper conversation about this topic and why he thinks youâre wrong, but itâs like his lips are sealed when it comes to speaking up about the matter.Â
He didnât know you cared about him, or anything involving him â including his career â this much.
His silence feels heavy as your ears start ringing waiting for his answer, and it never comes. Youâre left waiting as you listen to the purring of his Porscheâs engine, and at the way he breathes evenly â not rushed, not panicked, not even upset. He just breathes as he refuses to make any kind of comment to what you just told him. Did you really think that opening up about this to the guy with the biggest ego in the world was a good idea?
Too lost into your own worries and overthinking, you fail to notice how the car slows down, and then you finally notice him carefully looking for somewhere to park. You look outside the window, not recognising this side of the city.
âDo you remember the greasy, meat sandwiches we had on our last trip together?â He asks, and he actually sees how your gaze starts sparkling at the memory he just brought up, âItâs one of the things Iâve been craving the most lately, thinking about that day. And luckily for us, this guy right here seems to have the exact recipe,âÂ
Never in a million years did you think youâd be having sandwiches with Donghyuck at the outskirts of the city, bought right from a street food truck, while the grease trailed down your forearms as you tried to keep it away from your outfit. Because obviously, looking straight out of a fashion magazine, like youâre ready to go to a charity gala and eat the most expensive food ever served to you could ever compare to seeing melted cheese and grease smudged on Donghyuckâs cheeks as he chewed his bite.
The first bite taken from your sandwich almost got a moan out of you, while Donghyuckâs got a proper grunt out of him.Â
It feels almost painful to admit that heâs right thinking this was something youâd end up enjoying. It helps you go back to the past, when his smile was more carefree, when his jokes were even more obtuse than nowadays, when the sparkle brought to his eyes during classes or fights with you was more prominent.Â
You know heâs hiding something, and you wish heâd open up to you â at least a little bit. But you donât want him to shelter himself behind a shell you never knew he had. Heâs always been loud, proud, morally upright â and something took that away from him.Â
âTell me this sandwich isnât so much better than sex,â He moans, mouth absolutely full to the point itâs difficult for him to chew.Â
You nearly knock the tall glass of non-alcoholic beer youâve been sharing with him, and you give him a quizzical look.
âWhat kind of odd experiences have you been having?â Your tone is high in pitch, full of disbelief.Â
âOh, câmon,â He swallows his bite, âLike youâve never had a bad experience? With a man? Hard to believe,âÂ
âWere your bad experiences also with men?â You pout at him sympathetically, almost on the verge of pinching his cheek and ridiculing him.
He lets out a howl of laughter, almost choking, âTouchĂŠ,â He comments, licking his lips, all content with the progression of your conversation.Â
The interaction quiets down, and you see him eyeing you curiously before going back to his sandwich. But you know him just too well, and as expected, he throws the ball in your court after taking a big sip from your shared beer.Â
âIâve been meaning to ask you something,â He smiles softly, setting down his sandwich on the aluminium foil on the high table. When he sees you nodding, he waits a few more seconds, âWhy did you not become a prosecutor?â He asks, cleaning his hands with a wet wipe â definitely needed in order to get rid of all the grease.
When he sees your questioning gaze, seemingly not understanding the question â or where itâs coming from, he clears his throat. âI mean, you had the skills. You and I were unbeatable at what we were doing, so when I didnât see you in the field as one of my colleagues, I got worried. I was thinking you wasted so much potential being God knows where, doing God knows what. I had no idea of your whereabouts because, God is my witness, I really looked for you as a last resort to try and reach out and make you change your mind,â He rasps, but his tone is gentle, and it brings you comfort, âSo where the hell have you been?â
You guess this is a good start for the candid conversation you were planning on starting with him, but didnât know how to approach him first. Almost because you opened a small door earlier, during the car ride, and he seemed like he closed it shut in the blink of an eye.Â
You set your sandwich down on the foil, right next to his, and you grab one of the wet wipes he extends towards you.Â
âBecoming a prosecutor was never my goal,â You admit, cleaning the corners of your mouth, âI always wanted to study law to help the underprivileged. Yes, prosecuting bad guys always seems like the best choice when you think of a career in law and the whole concept of justice. But what about the people who canât afford to be represented in court by someone whoâs actually capable and confident with their skills? What about the NPOâs and charities that need someone to represent them? What about the people?â
He looks at you, at the small crease between your brows as you get so passionate about your love for your job, and he has the next question he wants to ask you, on the tip of his tongue. Yet you beat him to it.
âWhy did you throw out a successful and rewarding career? Just to become a tv host?â You ask him. This question has been bothering you ever since you stumbled upon his show on television, right after he gave up his career.
âItâs more complicated than that,â He gives you a tight-lipped smile, and you understand that it really doesnât come easy to him to open up about this change. So it really wasnât about him loving being in the centre of attention on television, and the shift to a career in this field that could mean fulfilling this crazy need for attention faster. You judged him too harshly, even if itâs just Donghyuck.
âThen open up to me!â You plead, because itâs something you need to understand about him, âIâm the one that can understand you on this, better than anyone else,â
Youâre right. Donghyuck knows this, and as much as he would have loved to tease you a bit for your choice of words and wanting to get closer to him, he refrains, understanding this is not the right time for this, for neither one of you.
âEverything was going well, I was on a roll,â He starts, finally giving in. If he wants to get somewhere with you, anywhere near where he wants you two to be, he needs to open up and finally face his past. âMy success rate was unbeatable and, as you might have seen, they even talked me into helping people on national television,â He looks straight ahead, thinking of the past few years and what heâs gone through, âThey made me their product and I enjoyed the money and the attention, this is one of the truths,â He clears his throat, reaching for the cold beer.
So what? Is that all he has to say about this drastic change in his life? You wonder to yourself. Were you right from the beginning? Did he really do it for the attention?
âBut another truth is that⌠I did something I can never forgive myself for, not even today,â His voice breaks, and heâs still avoiding your gaze, âOne of the last cases I worked on was just⌠atrocious. Weâre talking about abuse of the worst kind, and it all ended with murder. This motherfucker murdered his entire family⌠and he got away with it,â
Realising the gravity of the story heâs telling you, you keep your mouth shut.Â
He takes a big breath, âSomeone tampered with key pieces of evidence in the case, so he walked out of court almost trotting. That piece of shit was beaming with satisfaction, and for the first time ever I could do nothing about it,âÂ
Your weight shifts from one leg, to the other, âAny internal investigation that could find the culprit?â
He nods, finally looking at you, and you get to see just how affected he still is by the whole matter, even if itâs been a while since it happened. Something this big always stays with you.Â
He licks his lips, âOf course! I started an internal investigation to find answers, but then after a while I got a call from my higher ups telling me to drop it,â He pauses for a few seconds, and then lets out a ridiculing scoff, âOf course I didnât! What kind of prosecutor with a moral compass does that?!âÂ
You think you have a faint idea of where this story is headed. Heâs getting upset, eyebrows furrowed as he recalls his past.
âIt took a call from a politician to threaten me, for me to stop the investigation. Thatâs also when I decided to quit,â His voice is small, yet upset.Â
Heâs playing with a peace of foil on the table, wrinkling and then smoothing it, and your eyes fall on his crooked pinky.
âBut!â He snaps, suddenly back to having a good mood, and the enthusiasm takes you by surprise. âMy turn!â He picks up your sandwich, taking a bite of it. âWhy did you quit your career to become a corporate lawyer?â His mouth is full, but you understand him nonetheless.Â
He keeps his eyes on you as you pick up his sandwich, and you shrug, âI needed a change,â You avert your gaze, looking at where his teeth sank into the soft bread, âI needed to see if there were more exciting things out there,â
âAnd how did that work out for you?â He giggles, thinking of the irony of your choice. You wanted to help the underprivileged, yet you ended up working for a corporation straight out of hell.Â
He looks at you, and he canât believe just how beautiful you are. You features are so soft in the food truckâs lighting, your skin literally shines in the cold hues.Â
He sees you taking a bite from the sandwich youâre holding â his sandwich, and a smirk plays in the corner of his mouth.
âYou know weâre basically kissing right now, right?â He rasps, squinting his eyes at you while he sports a shit-eating grin.
You roll your eyes at him, âYour kiss is greasy,â You retort almost instantly, dropping the last bits of sandwich back on the foil, and you clean the corners of your mouth.Â
âYours is worse,â He mumbles, side eyeing you.Â
âWhat are you even talking about?â Youâre confused by his nonsense, eyes scanning him from head to toe as he takes another bite from your sandwich.Â
You find yourself gawking once again. He seems so relaxed, so comfortable around you, so confident even to be in public making a mess on his face when literally anybody can see him â not just you anymore.Â
And it hits you. Since when did you think you and him were close enough to imagine yourself as the sole person allowed to see him in all sorts of circumstances? Your long history of knowing each other has never properly allowed you to go there with your thoughts, and yet you did â and it makes you feel completely out of place.Â
Yet for some reason, youâve always felt comfortable around him. Thinking of it now that he shuts up and lets you be alone with your thoughts for a little bit, you think of the past. Never, not even once â not even when you wanted to kill him for starting a contradicting argument for his sole entertainment â did you feel like he repulsed you.Â
âSee for yourself,â He bursts your bubble, and your eyes get back in focus as you look at his tan forearms, while he extends your sandwich towards you. âI know you didnât believe me. Take a bite,âÂ
You throw him a skeptical look, and you see his eyes studying your face closely, searching for something. But you give in, nonetheless. And you touch his hand as he directs the sandwich to your lips.
And then, he snatches his hand away, his lips smacking yours instead. It happens in a split second, and you donât even have the time to register it happening, but it doesn't feel bad, or wrong. He retracts for a bit, the hand holding the greasy piece of bread far away from your figure, and he grabs your chin with his fingers.
His thumb travels, caressing his way up from your chin to your bottom lip, and he keeps studying your face for any sign that this might not be what you want right now. And the moment he feels your eyes on his lips, and sees you kicking your lips out of habit, he bends down once again.
His kiss is fervent, almost desperate, like he feeds off of it. His lips are just as plump and soft as you thought they would be, and you donât even think twice before parting your lips, granting him access. It feels hot, something youâve never experienced before â not from a single kiss, anyway.Â
His free hand travels towards the side of your face, fingers combing through your hair to pull you even closer. His abilities are to be praised right now, as he gets to control you to get you to do anything he puts his mind to with one hand only, the other still kept away from your bodies.Â
The kiss gets deeper and heated fast, while neither one of you feels like pulling away. This might be a monumental mistake, but it surely doesnât feel like that right now. Right now, you think youâre exactly where you want to be â while Donghyuck is absolutely certain he is where heâs always wanted to be.Â
Your hands go up his neck, which has gotten incredibly hot, and you keep him close to yourself as your fingers play with the longer strands of hair from behind his ears. He grunts into the kiss, and you suddenly become breathless.
He retracts slightly, eyes still closed as he keeps giving you small pecks, allowing the both of you to get your breathing back to normal, as gracefully as possible.Â
âWas my kiss greasy?â He rasps, tone low sending shivers down your spine.
You gulp, keeping your eyes closed, âNo,â You shake your head almost imperceptibly, but he feels you moving your face in his grip, âBut your greasy hand is in my hair,â You open your eyes just a bit, looking at him through your lashes, and you see him smirking.
âShhhh, donât ruin our moment,â He nudges your nose with his, then going back to pecking your lips.
And you give in once again, feeling his fingers pulling you towards him.
Your leg bounces as you sit on one of the leather armchairs in the waiting room, right outside of your bossâs office.Â
Anxiety is pooling in the pit of your stomach like never before, not even when you had stressful cases on your hands did you ever feel like this. It makes you sweat, it makes you want to throw up, especially because you know youâre in big trouble.
You woke up with a terrible headache, like your body was preparing you for impact first thing in the morning, like it was giving you a sign that a shit storm was coming your way and that the headache was just the tip of the iceberg.Â
And then you checked your phone. Texts, missed calls from Johnny, articles about you and Donghyuck. Apparently all the times you warned him about the press being on his trails should have been a reminder for you as well, because you appear together in all the pictures published.Â
Pictures of you and him strolling around the street, pictures of you and him spotted shopping together. Pictures of you two at the studio, when the two of you were bickering, except no one knows that. From the looks of it, it seems like you two are being very close, to the point of Donghyuck grabbing you â which is totally true, but the circumstances were absolutely different than what theyâre being made to seem like in these pictures. And then, the worst of all, pictures from two nights ago, when you and Donghyuck made out in the middle of the night right in front of the food truck, and then in his car â and thereâs no excuse or any other explanation for these last pictures, thereâs no way you can deny it. Itâs all out there for everyone to see, like a reminder that lines have been crossed and you acted recklessly.Â
You didnât even try to call him, to try and talk to him about this, to try to find a version of a story plausible as to why the two of you â a lawyer and her client â were eating each otherâs faces the other night.Â
Instead, you called Johnny and came to the headquarters as soon as you managed to calm down the erratic beating of your heart.Â
Youâre sure everyone around has heard the news or seen the pictures, and you fear of what they might be thinking of you right now. Youâve never been a fan of judgement, and being in the limelight now makes you incredibly anxious.Â
Your temples are still throbbing, your throat is dry, and it feels like youâre living a nightmare. And right as you think about this, the lift dings, announcing someone is about to come out, and then you see him â your real nightmare.Â
The man that turned your world upside down with just a smack of lips and a foul mouth full of smart comebacks and obnoxious jokes. He spots you right as he steps out of the lift.
âGood morning, gorgeous!â He takes a seat right next to you, on the other armchair, âWhat brings you here so early?âÂ
You look at him, genuinely wondering what is wrong with him. He looks at you like an innocent puppy, eyebrows raised and lips pouting, all while he swings his leg from left to right as he sits leisurely.Â
âAre you being for real right now? Did you not see the news?â You bark at him, ready to start punching him. Youâre at your limit, and heâs on very thin ice right now.Â
He shakes his head, shrugging with innocence, âJohnny called me in as soon as I woke up, so I didnât really have the time to be on my phone,â He explains, and you believe him â knowing that heâs not the type to be on his phone, given all the times he hasnât picked up your calls or replied to your work emails as proof of this. âWhy? What happened?âÂ
âYou and I happened,â You point your index finger, moving it between you two.
âRight,â He smirks, and you genuinely think heâs doing it to provoke you into hurting him, âIt certainly is a good morning!â
âHyuck!â You slap his leg, turning towards him. The crease on your forehead is terribly cute to him, and he feels an urge to kiss your worries away â even if it might put his life in danger. âThis is serious. There are pictures everywhere! Weâre in so much trouble, and Johnny has been on the phone all morning,â You explain, and then you sigh, âWhat do you think theyâre gonna do to us?â
He looks at you like he doesnât understand what it is you want from him, âI donât know, gorgeous,â He shrugs, feigning innocence, âThey might have to hang us right outside this building,â
âSee?! This is exactly the kind of shit you end up saying that gets you in trouble!â You cry, getting upset with him not taking anything seriously.Â
He can see youâre getting worked up over this issue, and even if he feels bad for upsetting you with his jokes, he finds it incredibly endearing for some reason.
âYouâre right, but let me ask you a question,â He turns his body to face yours, almost sitting on the edge of the cushion, âNow that weâre addressing this properly,â He moves his hand between your bodies, âMy joke from that night wasnât that bad, right?â
You roll your eyes, looking the other way as you try not to snap at him, âNo, it was pretty good actually,â You confess, remembering that after the initial shock of seeing him making such joke on national television subsided, you let out a howl of laughter, âToo bad some people have boundaries they donât joke about,â
âThank you!â He lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing into his seat, almost as if your last line didnât make it to his ears, âI agree that I should have made that joke in a different environment, but the backlash was too strong for just a simple joke,â He concludes, mumbling as if he wants you to know heâs not that bad as a person.Â
The office door opens, and a very stressed Johnny appears in the doorway, âY/n, get in,â He calls your name, but his gaze shifts to Donghyuck, âGreat, youâre here too,â He doesnât seem too ecstatic, and Donghyuck certainly does not appreciate the coldness of his bossâs tone, âGet in,â
You enter the office, taking a seat on the velvety couch in the corner of Johnnyâs office. He sits across from you, and gives you a smile.
âIâd say we have a problem,â He relaxes into his seat, crossing his legs.
âAnd Iâd agree,â You reply, noticing with the corner of your eye how Donghyuckâs head snaps to the side to look at you.
Johnny nods in understanding, seemingly content that youâre on the same page regarding this issue, âBut weâd both be so wrong!â
âWhat?â You squeak, getting on the edge of your seat. Youâre so confused right now, you squirm your eyes while looking at your boss.Â
âSee, dearest⌠the dating scandal brought you into the limelight, and people seem to be talking about you more than Haechanâs controversial joke,â Johnny explains, and you still donât understand what the good part is to all this, âPeople are going to be curious about your life, and truth be told Y/n, your record is impeccable. Theyâll talk about you, theyâll say youâre the perfect match for Haechan, and everything will calm down.â He claps his hands, satisfied with his explanation, âSee? Everything will work out perfectly! I talked to our PR team and, between us, this is the perfect move! How did you end up thinking of this? This was a genius move!âÂ
You look at him, still confused, and then your gaze shifts to look at Donghyuck, who looks back at you just as confused.Â
âErmâŚâ You clear your throat, tilting your head, âWe didnât do it as a PR move,â You explain, still very much confused. So much that your words come out as a question.Â
Johnny opens his mouth, surprised, and then points at you, âOh well, in this case⌠Congrats!â He looks at Donghyuck, âAnd good luck to you!â He eyes you this time, still smiling.
After being dismissed from Johnnyâs office, you let out a breath you didnât know you were holding. The headache is now gone, you feel like you can finally go back to relaxing after an entire morning spent thinking youâre three heartbeats away from having a stroke.Â
Youâre pretty much at peace with the fact that theyâre going to focus on desiccating your past for a while, thus giving Donghyuck a bit of space after a long time. Youâre not as problematic, you donât make bad jokes, youâve always been in your lane â and have always done your best to be respectful and good at doing your job, as best as you could. Youâre sure that your life isnât nearly as fascinating as Donghyuckâs, but you really donât mind.Â
Even as you walk inside his luxurious building and towards his apartment, Donghyuck follows your steps. He smiles at the thought that, even after weeks, heâs still following you wherever youâre going â and it doesnât matter that you donât have a key to his place. He looks at how determined your strut is, like the place is yours and not the other way around.
âWhat?â You ask him, not accustomed to having him silenced for so long.Â
âNothing,â He opens the door for you to walk in, still in front of him, âI might have to give you a key to my place,â He says nonchalantly, like itâs not a big deal.
You choke on air, and you turn around to give him a horrified look, âA key?! Already?â Youâre in disbelief, and quite frankly terrified of this manâs pace, âWe havenât talked about this stuff yet,â
âWhat is there to talk about?â He asks, and he seems genuinely confused. He seems relaxed, very comfortable with your presence even if you havenât even been able to define your relationship yet.Â
âThis,â You point your finger at him, and then towards yourself, âWe havenât even defined what we are. We have stuff to talk about, and steps to take,â
He snaps his head to look at you, shaking it all confused and with his eyes squinting, âAgain⌠what is there to talk about? Just move in, gorgeous, we can talk at home,â Heâs serious as he approaches you, grabbing you by the chin before he guides your face to get closer to his.
His lips capture yours in a sweet yet passionate kiss. They're soft on top of yours, and for a moment he gets lost in the taste of your lip balm, âIs this enough to label us?â He rasps, letting you go before he starts heading towards his dressing room.
When you fail to answer, he comes back, bare feet loud on the hardwood floor, âYouâre stalling. Again,â He warns, getting closer to you once again, âI donât like that. I want things to be quick, precise, orderly. And I want you, Y/n,âÂ
His confession sets a lump in your throat thatâs hard to gulp down, words suddenly too difficult to get out of you.
âYears passed and regrets amassed, and not acting upon my desires at the right time made me miserable. I donât want that for myself, and I thought my intentions were clear enough for you to understand that I donât need a label to define us, because I quite literally want to put the world at your feet, Y/n,â He speaks, and you try to fight a smile from creeping up on your features, âYou came back into my life and you rocked my world and knocked some sense into me, one that was long forgotten and which I ended up despising. I will not sit back and watch you slip through my fingers again,â
He looks silly, but it makes your chest fill with warmth as you see his pout while he concludes his statement. Heâs standing in front of you, wearing his pyjama shorts which he managed to change into right before he felt the need to come back and chew your ears off, and heâs still wearing his light blue shirt, cardigan discarded of as soon as he stepped back inside.Â
âThis reminds me just how good you are with argumentation,â You grin, but he knows you heard him loud and clear, and youâre not out the door â so that must mean youâre not turning him down, âIs this gonna be our thing? We get off complimenting each other on our argumentation skills?â The thought seems horrifying, but it gets a snort of laughter out of Donghyuck, nonetheless.
He shakes his head, unbuttoning his shirt. âI have a few other ways to get us off,â
âIs that so?â You purr, desire suddenly making your insides melt.Â
Your eyes fall on the tanned skin of his chest, trailing all the way down to your favourite spot â the V line. He gets closer to you with dangerously slow steps, like he has you exactly where he wants, where heâs planned to have you all along.Â
Just one quick glance up to his face, with your gaze locking into his, and the look heâs giving you makes you suddenly want to avert your gaze. Heâs confident, proud, standing upright, walking towards you like heâs literally going to take a bite out of you â not that you would mind, anyway.
He stops in front of you, his breath hitting your face as you suddenly feel small, shy to look up at him. His gaze feels intimidating, and makes your skin burn with desire, your flimsy blouse suddenly too clingy and too uncomfortable on your skin.Â
âI need to know, gorgeous,â He mumbles, slender fingers playing with a strand of your hair, pushing it back behind your ear, âWhat about that spare key,â
You hum with delight, stretching your arms around his neck, glueing your clothed chest to his bare one, and his hands travel hungrily behind your back with a tight grip.
âI think Iâll have no choice but to agree. The prosecution side had a very compelling argument,â You sing, finally looking up at him, and he keeps his mouth awfully close to yours, but your lips donât touch.
He hums, nose nudging yours, and you can feel his fingers traveling under your blouse, fingertips touching your ardent skin and giving you goosebumps.
It makes you literally burn up with desire. His fingers squeeze your sides and the pressure feels almost too good given the force with which heâs doing it, all because of how much he wants you right now. His arms are around you in a split second, and you donât even realise heâs taken you off the ground, determined steps making their way towards where you suppose his bedroom is.Â
Normally, youâd look around yourself, but right now your mouth is too busy on his, tongues clashing as he moans into the kiss. Your fingers travel around his nape, up all the way into his hair, pulling gently at his strands â getting a proper grunt out of him.Â
He puts you down, bare feet planted on what feels like a rug right by the foot of the bed, and he plays with the waistband of your pants, pulling them down but leaving your panties on.
 You push him back on the bed, and you get on top of him â you can feel heâs already rock hard, and your mouth is literally watering at the thought of tasting him. His hot mouth is on your neck, tongue playing around and leaving wet trails everywhere it can get, one of his free hands travels to your back to unhook your bra, helping you getting rid of your blouse and bra in a split second.Â
You feel like youâre on a cloud, high on desire and pleasure â he could literally manoeuvre you around and you wouldnât realise. His hands keep you steady on his lap, on top of his hard-on, not allowing you to move because heâd quite literally lose his mind if you gave him even the slightest friction.Â
He keeps his mouth busy, lips kissing the plush of your breasts before his mouth latches onto your nipple, and he grunts with pleasure now that it finally dawns on him that heâs getting all of you to himself.
âSo, so gorgeous, my baby,â He breathes on your swollen nip, right before his mouth latches onto the other, and hearing his airy praise from him has you moaning, head tilted to the side as you get lost in the pleasure, and you canât help but move your hips on top of his lap.
He moans, fingers digging forcefully into your hips to stop you, yet the force with which heâs doing it makes you even more aroused.Â
His moan vibrates around your nipple, and you push at his shoulders slightly, clearly giving him instructions on what to do. All the bullshit he pulled a while back about being your puppy and not taking orders from you? Totally bluffing. The man would do anything youâd ask of him, no questions asked.
You look at him in all his glory, admiring every single inch of his skin. Your fingers travel to the waistband of his pyjama shorts, and your nails pull at it, trying to move them out of the way. With a tiny bit of help from him, you managed to discard of the clothing item right before your gaze falls back on him, and you nearly let a gasp escape you.
Perfectly girthy, one vein travels from the base of his cock all the way up to his leaking tip. Trimmed at the base, his happy trail travels up his lower stomach, and you canât resist the urge to graze it with your nail â going from his belly all the way back to the base of his cock, where you gently grab him.Â
You bend down on top of him, and he doesnât hesitate to capture your lips in a messy, desperate kiss. But you donât allow him to enjoy your lips for too long, as they move down to travel on his jaw and across his chest, breath fanning over all the wet spots your lips leave behind. You finally stop your journey on his chest, where you playfully graze his nip with your teeth, while your eager hand gets back on his cock, squeezing his base lightly before travelling further down, making him grunt at the feeling.Â
âStop,â Heâs out of breath, and the sound of his voice â laced with desperation and lust â makes your walls throb around nothing, âPlease,â He pleads, throwing his head back.
The image of him being totally at your mercy makes you feral, almost like you want to continue your ministrations just to get more out of him. But itâs too much even for you, at least for right now, so you take pity on both of you.
You bend down, kissing his tip quickly before you take him inside the warmth of your mouth.
âFuck!â He bucks his hips up, âI donât think you should do this,â Heâs almost crying, and his hands go up to his head in order to grab strands of hair he can pull at.Â
But you ignore him. Flattening you tongue as you take all of him, you indulge in the pleasure of finally being able to suck him off. Salty and heavy on your tongue as you move your head up and down slowly, you moan around him, and for a moment you think Donghyuck is going to throw you off and away from himself.
You touch him one last time after you release his cock with a pop!, and he lands forcefully on his back once again.
âI think youâll be the death of me,â He mumbles, breathlessly as he lays unmoving, waiting to catch his breath a bit. Heâs painfully hard, tip still leaking with precum, but he raises his head when he feels you getting on top of him. âNo,â He shakes his head, âWanna taste you first,â
You feel like you could cry. You want to have him in all the ways possible, yet itâs becoming unbearable for you to be deprived of any proper friction.Â
âMaybe later,â You tell him, already sliding your panties down your legs, âI need to feel you inside of me,â You moan as you sit on him for a bit, and he swears he can feel your clit throbbing on top of his unmoving and hard shaft.
You align him at your entrance, throwing your soaked panties at his head â and he doesnât even bother to catch them on time. They land on his face, and he only moves one hand to grab them and keep them close for just a tiny bit to be able to smell your scent.
His eyes become glossy the moment you sink down on him, painfully slowly, and he canât help the moan that rumbles out of his chest.Â
âFuck, fuck, baby,â He curses through gritted teeth, sucking his stomach in a few times, âI donât think I can- I donât think Iâll last,â
He overestimates your willpower right now, because heâs not aware that your insides are melting with lust and pleasure, feeling the need to feel him all the way deeply inside of you.
The moment you start undulating your hips, walls squeezing him deliciously, he looks down at where your bodies meet, and he canât help himself from bringing his thumb so you can get off faster. You moan at the friction his thumb provides you every time your clit hits against it as you move your hips, and he swears the sounds youâre making are not helping his cause right now, already feeling like heâs on the verge of spilling inside of you.
Instead, his thumb does the right thing, and you reach your climax fast, surprising him. It comes in powerful, delightful waves that are prodding you to go on and continue your movements, and Donghyuck is too lost in the image of you climaxing on top of him to remember to take his thumb away from your sensitive clit.
Your thighs are burning, everything below the belt feels like itâs about to melt, but you stretch your hands up to his chest as your hips keep rocking on top of his. Heâs speechless, heâs feeling too many things, especially because heâs been on the receiving end all the time, and this way he found it easier to get lost in all the pleasure heâs been feeling.Â
He raises his head a bit, in order to have a better look at you, and he opens his arms before his hands travel to your hips.
You bend down, teeth grazing his jaw before you remember something, and you smirk as you get right up. Your hand travels to his neck, hand wrapping around the sides of his throat and putting the right amount of pressure.
His eyes become the size of saucers as he looks up at you, trying his best not to let out all the moans catching in his throat.
You giggle, and the sound of it has Donghyuck throbbing, âWhat happened to my talkative puppy boy?â You pout, delighted at seeing him squirming.
The choice of words, your tone, your relentless riding, the pressure around his neck, and the way your walls are squeezing him too tightly, it all becomes too much for Donghyuck to bear, and you see him rolling his eyes back before he lets out the loudest moan from the pit of his ribcage â and that alone is enough to turn you on again.
But you give in, stopping your movements yet still keeping him inside of you, and you collapse on his chest. Youâre too spent to keep yourself upright right now, and Donghyuck feels limp as he tries to gather his bearings.Â
You place your hand on his chest, drawing soothing circles as you wait for him to catch his breath, an you giggle when you hear him cursing. His sweaty skin sticks to yours, and he grabs your hand to bring it to his lips.
He keeps you close, heâs literally where he wants to be â with your weight on top of him, he feels like this is the safest and best place for him.
He raises his head, looking at your intertwined bodies, right before a stupid but spent smirk shows up on his face, âGiven our last activity, I think I just proved to you that I donât need deodorant,â
You smack his chest when you register his words, but giggle nonetheless because only Donghyuck could get to ruin a moment by bringing this nonsense up.
âPervert,â You move on top of him just slightly, but itâs enough to make him suck air through his teeth.
He smirks, voice already raspy as he mumbles out loud, âOh, you have no idea!âÂ
AUTHOR'S NOTE: SPEAKING MY TRUTH: we need to see more of obsessed and pervert!hyuck around (ââ¸â,) thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for me to drop fics from this series! this series means a lot to me and im not planning to abandon it, in case you were wondering â it's just that i have to be in the right place with my creativity <3 i hope you enjoyed this one, and i'll see you babies for the next one! ŕťę°ŕžŕ˝˛ËśËáşËËś ęąŕžŕ˝˛á
ahhhhhhhh as much as i love and eat up your angsty works so much this is like a breath of fresh air. it's all fun and silliness (and hugely hyuck's stupidity but what's new) i am OBSESSED. he may be a prosecutor, tv personality, etc but he's just an idiot (in love đ) đđđđđđ in the middle of all the stress the mc has to go through he's just all, "what's there to talk about?" "and what about it?" and just shoulder shrugging vibe im CRYINGGGGGGGGGG i love HIMMMMMMMM his personality here rlly drives me crazy and of course it's really not ur hyuck fic if there's no sungchan, right? ;) i would've LOVEDDDDS if him being a villain made it here but i also believe the final one is perfect as it is given the length too... it's nice that it's really more on the two leads only : )
pairing: lee jeno x fem.reader
genre: established relationship, smut, fluff
wc: 8.6k
summary: When a night of kinky experimentation leaves Jeno at his girlfriendâs mercy, he discovers a new side to both of them - and he likes it. A whole lot.
content warnings: explicit sexual content, fem!dom, sub!jeno (switch technically), light bondage, edging/orgasm denial, unprotected sex, healthy exploration of kinks, rough sex, begging, swearing, biting/marking, mild objectification, sex toy usage (on jeno), oral sex (m. receiving) . lmk if i missed anything!
a/n: hiii guys!! hereâs a cute little fic (it is absolutely not cute, do not be deceived) that i wrote in honor of the JNJM unit debut đ¤ jaemin isnât in this one, i know, i know, but i promise a proper nomin fic is coming in the future to make up for it. the concept for this was heavily inspired by doja catâs song âfreakâ, and also by jeno in those JNJM teaser photos bc HELLO??? that man in office attire??? HELL YEAH. i fear i had no choice but to write this. anyway. enjoy responsiby.
"Tie him down to my queen bed, tease him just enough for him to hate me."
Itâs a law of the universe that polar opposites are irresistibly drawn to one another. Perhaps itâs the allure of complementary forces coming together in perfect balance, each half making the other whole. Yin and yang, light and shadow, order and chaos.
Jeno and you were a textbook case of antipodes attracting. Where you were colorful sweaters and mini skirts, he was crisp dress shirts and tailored slacks in somber shades of black and navy. Your voice filled any room you entered, words tumbling out in an endless torrent, while Jeno was a bastion of calm quietude, content to listen with undivided attention. You created chaos wherever you went, a beautiful disaster leaving a trail of forgotten items and unfinished projects; Jeno brought order to that world, everything in its proper place, not a hair out of line.
When you first got together, your friends took bets on how long youâd last, convinced your differences ran too deep. A month, tops, most predicted. âHeâs too boring for you,â they said, convinced that some fundamental law of life would surely tear you apart.
Eight months later, you were still going strong. Oh sure, you had your share of loverâs quarrels - more often than not sparked by some silly thing you got into your head to be upset about. But your sweet Jeno, ever patient, couldnât bear to see you sad for even a moment. He made it his mission to soothe whatever ailed you, even when your âailmentsâ were petty and ridiculous.
âBaby, I really donât know whatâs got you so upset,â Jeno said, his voice edged with fond exasperation.
Heâd always come to your place straight from the office, not a crease or wrinkle marring his crisp white button-down, hair slicked back in that severe style that never failed to make your knees weak. The way his fitted slacks hugged his toned thighs was downright criminal.
Even now, annoyed as you were, you couldnât help but ogle him appreciatively. If you worked together, youâd never get anything done, too busy staring at this gorgeous man all day. You frequently fantasized about showing up at his workplace and mussing up that perfect hair, undoing a button or five on that shirt, making him come undone on a deskâŚ
âI am not upset,â you huffed, but a pout was already forming on your lips quite without your permission.
Jeno chuckled, a warm, pretty sound that reverberated through his chest as he pulled you onto his lap. You went willingly, already feeling your irritation start to melt away.
"Is that so? Then why are you all..." He trailed off, imitating your pouty frown before quickly kissing it away, as if he just couldn't help himself.
"This is just my normal face. If you don't like it, you can always dump me or whatever." You crossed your arms, but the action ended up pushing your boobs up and practically into Jeno's face.
His gaze drifted down, eyes darkening with desire as he took in the view. God, he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your soft curves, to get lost in you for days. But first, he had to figure out what was bothering you.
"Why would I ever want to break up with you? You're my girl." His hands slid down to span your lower back, fingers splaying across the dip above your hips.
"I don't know. I can just tell when a guy's not as into me anymore," you muttered, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze.
Jeno frowned, all traces of amusement wiped from his face, replaced by confusion and concern.
"Hold on. Where is this coming from?" He sat up straighter, the sudden movement making you bounce lightly in his lap. If you weren't so annoyed, you might've taken the chance to tease him a bit, maybe wiggle around and really get him going. "Baby, what are you talking about? When have I ever made you think I'm not completely crazy about you?"
"Well, I donât know... You've been working late constantly, I barely see you these days. And then the other night, you clearly didn't want to...you know..." You waved a hand vaguely. "Touch me."
"Oh, that... it's only because Iâ" Jeno sighed heavily, shoving a hand through his perfectly styled hair and messing it up. "Well, I... I thought I hurt you then. I didn't want to make it worse. Sometimes I just get too carried away because, god, I can't control myself when you're under me like that. Baby, I was trying to hold back so I wouldn't hurt youâ"
You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing his rambling explanation. "What, why do you think you hurt me?"
He dropped his gaze, shame etched into every line of his handsome face. But for the life of you, you couldn't recall a single moment during sex when he'd caused you pain. If anything, Jeno was always too gentle, as if you might shatter if he dared go too hard.
"Well... you were crying..." he admitted slowly.
An incredulous laugh bubbled up in your throat, but you managed to tamp it down to a grin when you saw how genuinely distraught he was about this.
"Jeno, oh my god." A giggle escaped despite your best efforts. "I only cried because it felt good," you explained, gently grasping his chin and tilting his face up to meet your gaze. His eyes went wide, lips parting in surprise.
"Good? But... you've never cried before," he said, confusion clear in his expression. In that moment, he looked so boyish, his eyes shining with an almost innocent bewilderment.
"That's just because...you've always been so careful with me. And don't get me wrong, I love that. But the other night... I don't know, it was different. It felt like you werenât holding back anymore. And, well... I really, really liked it."
Jeno was completely at a loss. He had no idea you felt this way. Being significantly taller and more muscular than you - a result of his rigorous daily gym routine - he always took great pains not to be too rough during sex. It took immense restraint, too. Because his deepest desire was to well and truly ravish you, to fuck you through the mattress until you were screaming his name and woke up sore. But when it came to you, his own wants and needs always took a backseat. He only wanted what was best for you.
But now, to discover you wanted the same thing all along? Well, color him shocked.
"What's with that face? Are you just now realizing you've got a freaky girlfriend who wants you to manhandle her with these big, strong arms?" You punctuated your teasing by giving his bicep an appreciative squeeze.
Jeno let out a breathless chuckle. "I just never thought my self-control was leaving you unsatisfied," he admitted. "I didn't realize you wanted me to be...rougher."
"Jen, you're so unbelievably hot, I practically have to physically restrain myself from jumping your bones every second we're together. Honestly, I'm the one holding back here."
A fierce blush crept up his neck. Why was he feeling so shy all of a sudden? For god's sake, you'd been together nearly a year, sex was a near-daily occurrence - sometimes more than once a day even. But now it turns out he didnât know the first thing about your preferences? Upon reflection, your sex life was pretty vanilla. He'd assumed you were content like that, but now a horrifying thought struck himâŚÂ What if you'd been faking it this whole time?
"Oh god," Jeno groaned, burying his face in your neck. "I'm the worst boyfriend in history."
"What? Don't be ridiculous. Of course you aren't. You're the best, most incredible boyfriend a girl could ask for, Jen. You're perfect."
He emerged from your neck, glasses adorably askew. With a tender smile, you adjusted them, then let your fingers card through his hair as you settled more firmly in his lap. "Whatever ridiculous idea is running through that brilliant, overthinking brain of yours right now, it's not at all what I meant."
Somehow, with a single glance into his eyes, you'd read his mind like an open book.
"You mean the fact that I've probably never truly satisfied my girlfriend even once because I stupidly thought I was being considerate by holding back? And that she's probably faked countless orgasms just to spare my fragile ego?" His tone was laced with self-recrimination.
"Okay, whoa! That's completely absurd, baby. None of that is even remotely true, and you know it." Your fingers continued their soothing path through his hair, and he let his eyes flutter shut, momentarily lost in the calming sensation. âBut I'll admit, this is partly my fault for not communicating my desires more clearlyâ
"And what exactly are those desires?" he asked, hands once again finding a spot on your hips.
Now it was your turn to blush and avert your gaze. Why oh why did you have to open this particular can of worms? How were you supposed to look your boyfriend in the eye and confess all the deliciously filthy, kinky things you wanted him to do to you - and you to him?
"Um, was that the dryer?" you blurted out, making a feeble attempt to extricate yourself from his embrace, only to be tugged right back down onto his lap.
"Y/N." The use of your full name made it clear he wasn't fooling around. "Tell me. Please."
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. "It's stupid, really. Not even worth discussing. Aren't you exhausted after working all day?" you deflected, fussing with his now-wrinkled shirt. He covered both your restless hands with one of his own (god, his hands were massive), stilling your fidgeting.
"Believe me, I have no problem staying right here all night until you talk to me. I'm quite comfortable like this, actually," he murmured, a hint of amusement coloring his words.
You sighed in resignation. "I just don't want you to think I'm some kind of weirdo or something..."
"I could never think that, pretty girl," he reassured you, punctuating his words with a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. "Go on, tell me."
"Well..." you began, nervously twisting your fingers together. "There's something I've always wanted to try with you. But I thought it might be a bit...much."
Jeno's curiosity was piqued. "Okay, what is it?"
"God, this is so mortifying," you whined.
"Come on, it can't possibly be any worse than that time you confessed to having a massive crush on Shrek," he teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Oh, to hell with it. You'd come this far, might as well just let it all out.
"I've always wanted to...to tie you down. To my bed, I mean." The words tumbled out in a rush, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.
Jeno was perfectly still for all of two seconds before he let out a slightly strained chuckle. But then, seeing the deadly serious look on your face, he sobered. "Wait... what exactly do you mean by that?"
You cleared your throat. "Just that... I want to tie you up... and do whatever I want to you, for as long as I want."
"Oh." Jeno blinked owlishly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "That's, uh... Wow."
You couldn't quite decipher the look on his face. Shock, definitely. But was that a spark of intrigue in his eyes, or were you just projecting your own desperate hopes onto him?
"I know, I know, it's super weird. Just forget I said anything," you babbled, squirming in his lap, suddenly desperate to escape this mortifying situation. "I mean, what kind of girlfriend wants to tie up her boyfriend like some kind of pervert, right? God, I'm so embarrassed, I can't believe I actually told you that. Can we please just pretend this conversation never happened and go back toâ"
"I want to try it," He blurted out, his deep voice cutting through your nervous rambling.
You froze, certain you must have misheard him. "Wait, what?"
Jenoâs tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze intense and unwavering on yours. "I said... I want to try it. What you said, about tying me up and..." He cleared his throat, a distinct flush creeping up his neck. "...having your way with me."
"You... You do?" you asked, scarcely daring to believe it.
"Yeah, I really do." He leaned in close, his breath against your lips. "The thought of being at your mercy, completely helpless while you do whatever you want to me... It's really fucking hot."
Your breath caught in your throat, desire pooling hot and heavy in your belly at his words. "Oh my god, Jeno..."
"So," His large hands slid down to cup your ass, pulling you flush against the rapidly growing bulge in his slacks. "Why don't you show me exactly what you want to do to me, hm? Let me be a good boy for you."
You didn't need to be asked twice.
Heâd barely finished the sentence before you had his tie undone and draped around your own neck for later use. You felt the unmistakable shiver that ran through his body as you worked open the top buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers. It felt almost illicit, the way he allowed you to take control so easily.
Jeno. The consummate rule-follower who color-coded his gym schedule by muscle groups, who maintained a spreadsheet tracking his protein intake down to the gram, who ironed even his workout clothesâbreathtakingly vanilla until this very moment. Here he was, his abdomen tensing with each shallow breath as you traced the hollow of his collarbone with your tongue, tasting salt and clean soap. His pulse hammered visibly beneath the thin skin of his throat when your teeth grazed his jawline.
It was amazing how a few words could completely upend someone's entire operating system. Yours includedâdesire unfurling hot and liquid in the pit of your stomach, climbing upward through your chest, making your fingertips tingle and your thighs clench as it threatened to spill from your lips in a gasp or a command, you weren't sure which.
You had always felt a little bit monstrous about your deepest desires. Not in a depraved way, you would never dream of doing anything without enthusiastic consent, but there was a shadowed, primal need within you, an itch at the base of your skull to be the one in control, the one who upset the delicate balance just when things began to feel too predictable.
The kind of need that often got suppressed in relationships, because men liked the idea of a woman "taking charge" until, inevitably, she actually tried it, and then suddenly it was too much, not sexy anymore, a bridge too far from the unspoken script. But apparently, Jeno was different.
"You want to be a good boy for me?" you purred, relishing the effect your words had on him. His breath quickened, Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to conceal his shudder with a slight tilt of his head.Â
Jeno never allowed himself to relinquish control. Not at work, not at social gatherings, not even at the gym. But now, under the heat of your gaze and your touch, he was so beautifully vulnerable it made your heart flutter wildly in your chest.
You paused your kisses on his neckline, mouth hovering above his skin, and let your breath fan out in a slow exhale. His fingers flexed on your hips, tightening imperceptibly. Just the faintest tremor. It was a revelation, seeing him so uncertain and yet so hungry at the same time.
"Lie down," you commanded, surprising even yourself with the steadiness of your voice.
He complied, moving onto the bed with a curious sort of grace, as if he feared shattering the charged atmosphere by making one wrong move. The mattress dipped and groaned beneath his weight. You smiled, giddy with the thrill of this newfound power, but also a little awestruck. Was this alright? Was it too much, too fast? Jeno gazed up at you, his eyes swirling with both trepidation and anticipation.
You looped the tie around his wrists, securing it with a knot, and gently pressed his bound arms above his head. The action felt at once absurd and profoundly meaningful--as if you'd crossed a point of no return together, one that had been beckoning to you all along.
"You know, people usually have a safe word for this kind of thing," you said, settling your knees on either side of his hips. His thighs tensed, then relaxed, as if you'd just handed him a Get Out Of Jail Free card and he'd simply ripped it to shreds right before your eyes.
"Should I choose one?" he asked, and the sheer guilelessness of his tone made your heart ache for reasons you couldn't quite articulate. Perhaps it was because Jeno had never looked at you quite like this before: vulnerable, eager, a little lost. The dynamic had always been slightly inverted--him guiding you, patient and careful, a steadying hand at the small of your back in a crowd. You thought you enjoyed being cared for, and you did. But this thrilling new arrangement, with him splayed out beneath you, ignited a heat low in your belly that threatened to consume you from the inside out.
"Yeah," you breathed, trailing your fingertips down the smooth expanse of his chest with agonizing slowness. "If you want."
He hesitated, his lips silently forming and discarding a litany of options, before finally settling on: "'Spreadsheet.'"
A surprised laugh bubbled up from your throat, the unexpectedly nerdy choice conjuring an oddly arousing mental image of Jeno in a sexy office roleplay, his tie askew and his glasses fogged. "You want your safe word to be 'spreadsheet'? Really?"
"Too dorky?" he asked, a little self-conscious.
You leaned in close, hands planted on either side of his head, and murmured, "It's perfect. Just like you."
Before he could protest or make a joke, you captured his lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of your desire, your adoration, your hunger into the press of your mouth against his. Jeno melted into the mattress, surrendering himself completely to you. His hands, bound in that tidy little knot, flexed helplessly. You suppressed a grin. This look suited him, the utter lack of control, the complete surrender. It made you feel not only powerful, but deeply trusted.
You refused to let him off easy, though. Where other women might have pounced on him, riding a fleeting high of feminine dominance for a scant few minutes before gratefully lapsing back into the familiar status quo, you enjoyed every second of this reversal like it was the last luscious bite of dessert on earth.
So you took your sweet time. You explored him as if laying eyes on him for the very first time, mapping the contours of his chest, his jawline, even the delicate shell of his ear with gossamer, butterfly touches. You let your tongue swirl around his nipples, languid and unhurried, drinking in the way his eyes widened first in bewilderment, then understanding, then abashment. (He'd always been oddly self-conscious about his pecs, as if they were some shameful secret. Perhaps they were too sensitive, or maybe he'd simply never had a lover lavish them with genuine curiosity rather than perfunctory attention.) You suckled gently, barely applying any pressure, and he arched beneath you, his entire body shaking once before he instantly reddened, averting his gaze as if mortified by his own visceral response.
"Are you--fuck, enjoying this?" Jeno gasped, his chin tucked to his chest, a bashful, almost petulant furrow marring his brow.
"God, yes," you breathed, and to underscore your sincerity, you laved a leisurely path up his sternum, savoring the salt of his skin and the heat emanating from beneath. "You're so sensitive here, baby. It's adorable."
He tried to match your breezy tone, but his voice cracked when he protested, "It's not adorable. It's humiliating." He was achingly hard now, a fact he couldn't possibly hide with your thighs bracketing his hips and his arms pinned above his head.
You let your fingertips tease along the edge of his waistband, but left his pants in place, the fabric pulled taut by his obvious erection. Instead, you splayed your palm over his clothed erection, letting the heat and weight of your hand linger there. Jeno went still, his breath coming in shallow, rapid puffs. You waited. Then you eased your palm just slightly, applying a little more pressure through the fabric, and watched as he bit down hard on his own lip. So serious. So determined not to give you the satisfaction of hearing him beg. You decided to test how long that resolve would really last.
You murmured, âIf you want something, just ask, baby.â You gave a gentle squeeze to the base of his cock, feeling, through the layers of his trousers and underwear, the heat and tension coiling there. You softened your touch, tracing lazy circles with a single finger. Jeno squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, his wrists flexing against the tie, but he said nothing.
You loved this about him. The quiet stubbornness. You wondered how many people in his past had ever seen him this exposed. How many had been allowed to glimpse the frantic need pent up in his body, or the brittle fragility behind his wit? You felt almost protective of it.
You bent low, lips grazing the edge of his trembling jaw. âI like you like this,â you whispered, your hand stroking down the length of him, just to watch his composure slip. âYou donât have to hide how much you want it. You know I could do this all night, and youâd just get needier, wouldnât you?â His whole body shuddered with the effort of not answering.
âWord?â you asked softly.
Jenoâs laugh was hoarse. âSpreadsheet,â he replied, so fast it was almost a moan.
Abandoning his groin, you circled back to drag your nails up his sides, then dipped your head to press a kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat. "So sensitive," you type, this time letting a note of faux astonishment color your words. "Who would've guessed?"
He shot you a baleful look, but with his arms trussed up, it only served to make him appear more deliciously helpless, more endearing. "You're mean" he grumbled, though his hips canted upward of their own volition when you ghosted your lips over his collarbone.
You almost felt guilty. Almost. Instead, you pulled back, eager for his next reaction with the slightly cruel edge of a cat toying with a cornered mouse. You knew exactly what he wanted. You could sense it in the desperate way he strained toward you, in the way he flexed his hands against his bindings, in the way his breathing had gone from even to erratic and labored. But you had no intention of giving in, not yet.
"Is there something you want, baby?" You let your fingertips dance up and down the sensitive skin of his inner arms, gossamer-light, so soft it tickled. He shuddered, his muscles rippling beneath your ministrations.
"I'm fine," he bit out, his voice strained.
You beamed down at him. "You sure?" you pressed, leaning in to nuzzle the tender spot just behind his ear. "Because you're about to burst."
His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking. "I'm notâ"
You nipped at his earlobe. "You're not what?"
He pressed his lips together, eyes screwed shut. "I'm not going to beg," he ground out, his voice scarcely louder than a whisper.
You clicked your tongue, feigning disappointment. "That's a shame," you slid off him just enough to trail your hand over the length of his body, lingering at the waistband of his trousers. "Because I think you're dying for it." You unbuttoned him with a slow flick of your thumb, savoring the way his chest lifted with each shallow breath. He wore sleek black boxer-briefs under his slacks, and the sight of himâso painfully, embarrassingly hard, a dark stain already spreading at the tipâgave you a rush of adrenaline.
You drew back, just to drink in the sight of him, to admire the delicate flush staining his cheekbones and the desire smoldering in his eyes. His lips were kiss-swollen and slightly parted, as if poised to say something before he clamped down on the words and glowered up at you, defiant.
God, you wanted to absolutely wreck him.
He thought he could out-stubborn you? How funny. You'd been emotionally tormenting older siblings and exes since you were in middle school. Jeno, for all his seriousness and self-discipline, was woefully outmatched by the age-old feminine art of slow-burn, high-stakes teasing. If he wanted to engage in this battle of wills, you'd ensure he regretted the day he ever underestimated you.
You charted every last inch of his torso, every rib and divot, every spot that elicited a hitch in his breath or a twitch of muscle beneath your touch. His nipples were exquisitely responsive, and you traced languid circles around them with the tip of your tongue, just once, before neglecting them entirely as he squirmed under you.
You bit his hipbone, and he startled with a strangled whine that reverberated through the room. Grinning, you pressed a soothing kiss to the spot immediately after. "Sensitive everywhere, aren't you?" you mused, your fingers skating over his erection.
He managed an incredulous groany laugh. "I didn't realize you were this intense," he panted, his head tipped back against the pillow, exposing the vulnerable line of his neck. You took the invitation for what it was, trailing the line of his vein with your tongue before sucking a dark mark on the hollow above his pulse.
His hips jerked, and he muffled another moan. Your grin was uncontainable. The way that mark appeared, raw and red, right where only you will see it tomorrow, triggered a curious protective urge, as if you wanted to carve your initials into Jenoâs skin, make him unmistakably yours. Perhaps it was caveman logic, or the months of restraint, but you wanted, all at once, to break and cradle him, to see him undone and then stitch him back together.
You cursed yourself for not buying actual restraints. That trendy boutique you passed with window displays promising sturdy vegan leather harnesses, silk ropes dyed in neon, handcuffs shaped like Hello Kitty--why had you hesitated? Youâd dismissed it as a fantasy, as something people like you only joked about over brunch, not something real-world couples like you and Jeno attempted for more than a fleeting, tipsy weekend. But you refused to let a lack of props stop you now.
You leaned in and whispered, in your best threatening purr, "Move again, and I'll edge you so long youâll cry."
Your mouth watered at the sight of him when you finally pulled his boxers down: thick and flushed, rigid and throbbing.
Even now, every molecule in Jenoâs body radiated tension, a desperate need to do something, anything, to get you to touch him. You didn't. You sidestepped his need and worked your way methodically down, kissing the jut of his hip, the springy line of dark hair trailing from his navel to his groin, the smooth roundness of his knees, the curve of his calves. His thighs jumped when you so much as breathed warm air over them.
He made a noise like laughter, disbelief sparkling in it, until your mouth closed around his tip and his head thudded back so hard against the bed frame you worried he'd bruise.
You were not, in fact, a blowjob expert-- your exes had been content with clenched eyes and an awkward "that feels good, baby" while you did the obligatory motions, but not one of them had ever surrendered their body with such single-minded attention as Jeno was doing now.
He looked down the line of his body at you, glasses askew, cheeks flaming, breathing ragged, and eyes so tender. You let your mouth hollow around him, your tongue mapping the throbbing ridge of vein, then backed off.
"D-donât stop," he breathed as you dragged your tongue through the sticky spill at the tip and smirked.
"Patience is a virtue, baby," you crooned and kissed his tip again.
You dragged your mouth up his length slowly, and felt a shiver that started at his toes and climaxed in a delicious, helpless buck of his hips. The tie binding his wrists strained, but held fast, and his hands flexed and unfurled in an unconscious search for something to grab onto.
"Oh, fuck, Y/N," he gasped, voice ragged and breathless, the syllables bouncing off the ceiling and landing between your ribs where they took root and blossomed into hot, sticky pride. You slowed, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, swirling around his head, once, then again, flicking just the way you secretly knew he liked it.
You pulled off, lips glossy, letting the air hit him cold and sharp. He whimpered, a pathetic, beautiful sound. "Why," he said, voice a thin whine, "do you keep stopping?"
You grinned up at him. "Because you're so fucking cute when you pout."
You crawled up, letting your hair trail his chest, and hovered just above his mouth. "Want to kiss me?" you provoked, already knowing the answer.
He nodded helplessly and strained for your lips. You let him sweat a moment longer, watching the need bloom in his eyes, before planting a ferocious kiss that left you both gasping. You knew he could taste himself on your tongue and wondered if it would weird him out or if heâd find it as electrifying as you did.
You kissed him until he writhed, until the friction between his cock and your belly painted his stomach with a slick smear. He tried to deepen the kiss, tried to tilt up, but you pulled back, dragging your teeth over his bottom lip and biting down just hard enough to make him gasp. His hips jerked again, straining unconsciously, his cock fully engorged and weeping.
You grabbed at the nightstand, a fierce need to see just how far you could take this. The top drawer gaped open, revealing its pile of treasures: tattered paperbacks, loose hair ties, a flattened tube of lip balm, andâhallelujahâa vibrating ring youâd once gotten as a gag gift at a bachelorette party and promptly forgotten about. You held it up between two fingers, watching Jenoâs eyes track it warily.
âWhatâs thatâŚ?â He cut off, a flush creeping from his neck to the tips of his ears.
You smirked. âColor-coding and spreadsheeting every aspect of your life, but you never thought to research sex toys?â You plucked the cellophane wrapper open with your teeth, tossed it aside, and switched the ring on. You let it shake against your palm before slipping it gingerly over the base of his cock. His whole body jolted as if youâd wired him directly into a light socket.
You let the ring do the work for a moment, watching Jeno struggle not to buck into the sensation. Every trembling muscle in his body begged for more, but you made him wait. You made him watch as you undid the buttons of your shirt, slow enough to make him keen in protest, his dark eyes never leaving the skin you revealed inch by inch.
You toyed with the clasp of your bra, letting the anticipation stretch enough to make him whine a little, his bound hands flexing in the air above his head. When you finally flicked the clasp open and let the scraps of lace fall away, Jeno exhaled a curse word so filthy it made you grin. You basked in the raw hunger on his face, the way the sight of your bare breasts made him bite his lip so hard it went white.
You shimmied out of your skirt with a little flourish, the hem catching on your thighs and making Jeno whimper softly when he realized youâd gone without panties. He drank in every movement, every exposed surface of you, like it was oxygen. You stood over him for a second, drinking in the view, too: your gorgeous, brilliant man undone by a ten-dollar battery-powered ring and a men's tie, his face open and desperate and so, so in love with you.
You straddled him again, and let your heat hover just above the flush, taut head of his cock. It took every ounce of self-control not to simply drop and ride him until you both blacked out. Instead, you hovered, pressed slightly, let the electric brush of the ring buzz against your clit, then drew away.
Jeno whined your name in disbelief, arching up like he could make you take him inside. You refused, just for the pleasure of watching him suffer. Maybe he deserved it, after all the nights youâd lain awake, quietly vibrating with need while he snoozed with monastic stoicism, all that serious energy funneled into containing what you now realized was a feral hunger.
You pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, so close he was probably tasting your slick heat with every nerve in his body, and then, with a grin, you let him watch as you languidly circled your clit with two fingers. The sight made Jeno sob out a half-choked plea, but you stilled him with a palm flat to his chest. âNot yet, baby,â you whispered, raking your nails lightly down his sternum.
He whimpered, and if youâd ever suspected in your life that the sound could be made by a guy like Jeno, youâd have called yourself a liar. You marveled at yourself for being able to draw forth such primal noise from someone so reserved; you couldn't help but feel slightly monstrous for it.
Each time you teased yourself with your own fingers, his breathing grew harsher, his cheeks more flushed. Even restrained, his body was a livewire, shoulders pressed deep into the mattress, thighs trembling with the effort not to buck, breathless with the burden of not asking, not pleading, even though you could see just how close he was to breaking.
You kept him on the edge so long that he started babbling. âPlease, please, I canâtââ and you only giggled, pulling away every time you judged him too close, just to watch his face twist from relief to exquisite frustration.
âFuck, st--stop teasing meâ he gasped, but you could tell from the frantic way he strained against his bonds that he would do anything for you right now, say any ridiculous, humiliating thing just for a minute of your time and the pressure of your walls around his cock.
When you finally, finally slid down onto him, it was so overwhelming you both gasped. He was huge, perfect, and the vibrator at your clit sent shocks through your core.
For a second, you just sat there, pressed full and tight. You wondered if you looked as fucked out and vulnerable as he did, hair wild, mouth open, every muscle trembling from restraint. You rolled your hips, grinding down slow and steady.
âY/N,â he breathed, âplease, god, I wantââ
You clamped a hand over his mouth. âGood boys take what theyâre given.â
He moaned into your hand, eyes rolling back, and the tension that traveled through his body was so immense it was like riding the aftershock of an earthquake. The tie at his wrists went taut. His legs strained against the bedposts, all of him desperate to consume and be consumed.
You wrapped your hand around his throat gently and rode him in long, greedy plunges that had him gasping for air. His hips bucked up, desperate for friction, but you kept your pace slow. The wild look in his eyes confirmed it: he loved every second of this, the helplessness, the hunger, the way you reduced him to pure need.
The mattress creaked, your knees ached, sweat beaded between your breasts and along your hairline. You swore you could feel every inch of him on a cellular level, every twitch and pulse and trembling, needy plea.
At the apex of each bounce, you ground down with ruthless precision, sending shocks through your own body that almost knocked you loose from your seat. Youâd had sex that was wild before, and loving; youâd had sex that was disappointing and transactional; but youâd never known pleasure that could be this mean, this strange, this deeply, vibrantly alive.
âF-fuck, I, I, I canâtâY/N, Iâmââ The words broke loose from his mouth in a choked growl.
You leaned forward, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear, your voice low and breathless: âYou can. You will. But only when I say.â
You eased off, sinking your nails into his thighs as you lifted until only the tip of him remained pressed at your entrance. The vibrator thrummed against you both. You could feel the way he trembled, the way his cock pulsed in time with his racing heart.
âSay it,â you commanded, teeth grazing the curve of his jaw. âTell me youâre my good boy. Tell me youâll wait for me.â
He whimpered, face twisted in frustration. âIâm your good boy,â he choked out. âIâll wait. Iâll wait for you, baby, pleaseââ
You smiled against his cheek. âGood.â
His mouth fell open, but nothing came except a low whine, his bound arms flexing so hard you could see the cords standing out on his forearms. You lifted off him enough so that the ring buzzed unencumbered between your bodies, and Jenoâs head twisted on the pillow like he was in pain.
âPlease,â he managed. His face was red, sweat beading at his hairline, and you could see the actual glimmer of tears poised in the corners of his eyes.
You froze, suddenly worried youâd gone too far, but the frantic shake of his head and the way his hips bucked up told you he was exactly where he wanted to be. You shushed him, stroked his cheek, and rode him a tiny bit slower, let the pressure and the build accumulate until it was an agony you shared, both of you perched together at the edge of some wild precipice.
You kept him there, squirming under you, for as long as your own resolve would allow, which, embarrassingly, wasn't very long considering how fucking good it felt to have him stretching you. You'd always suspected Jeno would be incredible if you ever managed to get him to just let go. Still, you'd never imagined he'd be the sort of lover who could, with nothing but muscle and sheer willpower, fucking snap an expensive tie.
Heâd waited for you to get greedy, to close your eyes and tip your head back, and then he pulled.
The tie snapped apart, and suddenly his hands were on youâgripping your hips with a bruising force, pinning you so you couldnât wriggle away. You gasped, the shock of it slicing straight through your haze. His arms wrapped around your waist and yanked you down, impaling you down onto his cock like a spike. The sound you made, the way your back arched involuntarily, mustâve gone straight to Jenoâs lizard brain, because his next thrust was pure animal: no hesitation, zero self-restraint, just the greedy sound of your slick cunt and his ragged moans.
âMy turn,â he growled.
The grip on your hips was bruising, but you welcomed it, craved it, felt yourself go liquid in his armsâfinally, finally those massive hands pinning you to his pleasure. You barely had time to yelp before Jeno was sitting up, bearing you with a single arm around your waist, the other sliding into your hair and fisting it so roughly you lost your breath. His mouth crashed against yours, hungry, bruising, and the taste of you and him and the faint aftershock of salt and sweat became the whole universe.
His hands found the curve of your ass to hold you in place and fucked into you hard enough to make you see white. The vibrator slammed your clit with every punishing thrust, adding a delirious edge to every bounce. You realized you were the one whimpering now, begging, though the words were incoherent nonsense.
He lifted you off and spun you to your hands and knees in one fluid movement. You tried to protest, to issue some token resistance, but your own body betrayed you, shaking with anticipation as he manhandled your hips into place. Youâd always suspected he was strong enough to snap you in half. His hair was a ruined mess, his glasses knocked askew and threatening to fall, the tie a shredded half-garter dangling from his wrist. The sight of him like this nearly undid you.
He fucked you hard, in a way youâd never have dared request. You braced yourself on trembling arms, moaning with each slap of his hips against your bare ass, your whole body ricocheting toward the headboard with every thrust. His hands were everywhere: spanning your waist, squeezing your ass, one palm smeared up your back, and grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair so he could yank you upright, your spine arched like a bow. The change in angle made you see stars, the vibrator wedged between clit and cock pulsing so tight and mean you nearly howled.
âLook at you,â he said, voice thick, âso desperate. My good girl, now.â Mirth and pride bled into the claim, and you leaned into his hand as it tangled deeper in your hair.
You were drooling now, face hot and wet, mascara streaked and running down your neck in wild, black rivers. You weren't sure what noises you were making, but they echoed obscenelyâfull of plaintive whimpers, shattered syllables, âpleaseâ and âgodâ and âdonât stop.â Jeno responded to each with a wordless, hungry grunt, his palms kneading at your hips, pounding into you so hard the headboard started to knock the wall in a syncopated rhythm.
His eyes burned, black and wild; his jaw set with a kind of furious adoration, as if heâd realized all at once that heâd been starving himself for no reason and now he was going to eat and eat and eat until he was sick on you.
âDidnât you want it hard?â Jeno growled. âThen fucking take it.â
You couldnât even find your voice, couldnât think, couldnât do anything except take him whole and clutch at the handful of sheets he left you to grab onto. You wanted to say something to show you were still in charge, but his mouth found your neck and his teeth grazed the curve of your jaw and you bit down on your tongue to keep from screaming. Your vision blurred, the edges of your world tunneling down into the center of your body where Jeno was battering you open, his cock hard and insistent and so fucking perfect you wanted to cry.
You felt his entire body go rigid, pinning you so hard you couldnât move except to open wider, give him everything. âYouâre soâfuck, youâreâ
He flipped you onto your back and grabbed your ankles, pressing them toward your shoulders until your knees nearly touched your chest. Each thrust came with such force that the bed frame groaned in protest beneath you. Behind your closed eyelids, pinpricks of light bloomed like distant stars.
There was nothing in this world except the slippery glide of your bodies, the hurricane of need, and the wild, wet convergence of your souls at every point of contact. You clawed at his back, at his shoulders, at the sharp planes of his chest, leaving crescent moons in your wake. When he locked his lips to your collarbone and bit down, you gasped, the sensation igniting along your spine and straight to your core.
Somehow, even in this frenzy, it was Jeno who noticed you were about to come apart, who braced himself on trembling arms and slowed, just barely, so he could see the look on your face as you shattered. He fucked you through it, his eyes never leaving yours, his own release spooling tighter and tighter but held back by brute force. You wondered how he managed it, how he could even think with this much pressure building between you.
âJenoââ
Jeno let go completely, unleashing months of bottled-up hunger and self-denial. He fucked you like it was his last earthly act, piston-strong and brutal and god, youâd never come so hard, your orgasm slamming through you like a dropped elevator. You shrieked, and he bit your shoulder, and you clung to each other as if you could fall through the bed and into some other universe entirely, a universe where nothing existed but friction and heat and want.
You were still shaking when you felt him shudder, felt the slow-motion ripple of his release telegraph through his core, a split-second tension and then pleasure so strong it blurred the boundary between your body and his. He muttered your name softly, then tipped his forehead against yours.
He didnât let go, not even after the tremors in both your bodies had subsided. Aftershocks radiated up your thighs, your chest, where his grip had left fingerprints already blooming. You could only stare at him, at the incredulous, almost boyish smile stretching across his lips, lashes trembling as he blinked down at you.
He reached down, gripped the slick rubber ring, and in one smooth motion eased it off, tossing it onto the crumpled sheets beside you. "Jesus Christ," he said, voice shredded with wonder. "Why do people even bother with CrossFit when that exists?"
You snorted, a full-body laugh that left you splayed and shaking. Jeno collapsed beside you, bracing a muscular arm under your neck and tucking you close.
"Never pegged you for a quitter," you managed, struggling to catch your breath.
He groaned, rolling you into the crook of his arm. "It's a temporary strategic withdrawal. I'll destroy you in round two."
You pressed your nose to the hollow just below his earlobe and inhaled the mix of his skin, his cologne, and the dizzying, bitter tang of sex.
âSo,â you rasped, âhow long have you been hiding Mr. Hyde under that Clark Kent routine?â
âI honestly didnât know I had it in me,â he admitted, as if confessing to a minor crime.
For a long time, you simply lay there, letting your blood pressure slowly work its way back toward human parameters. The room was a disasterâyour blouse stretched inside out over the lamp, the ruined tie hanging limp from the footboard, the nightstandâs entire contents spilled onto the floor like a piĂąata.
Neither of you spoke until Jeno grunted, propping himself up on one elbow and poking at the remnants of the tie with a rueful finger.
"You know how expensive that tie was?"
You snorted. "I know exactly how expensive that was," you said, propping yourself up to inspect the ruined silk. He rolled his eyes, like he wanted to appear annoyed, but the effect failed when his mouth kept twitching at the corners.
After a while, he grew serious, his gaze softening as he studied your face. "Why didn't you tell me you liked it like that?"
You shrugged, tracing lazy patterns across his bare chest with your fingertip. "I don't know. I guess I thought you might freak out, or think I was weird or something. You have this... reputation, you know? The Human Spreadsheet. I figured it was missionary or bust."
Jeno pretended to take offense. "I'll have you know, I am well-versed in many positions." His voice took on a pompous, academic tone. "It's right there on my resume, under 'extracurriculars.'"
The joke was so unexpected, so quintessentially Jeno, you almost fell off the bed. "You're such a dork," you said, and he beamed, all bashfulness gone. "You love it," he challenged, and you couldn't argue. Especially with the evidence dizzying your every cell, with the sweet ache between your legs or the sated, floating calm that was even now settling into your bloodstream.
You prodded at the bruises forming in earnest on your hips, the faint crescent of his teeth in your shoulder. "Guess we're truly incompatible now. According to my mom, the odds of making it past the one-year mark with a bruiser are statistically null."
Jeno mused, "I suppose we could always break up and bed different people, maybe do a spouse swap, and come crawling back to each other in time for your mom to lose her bet." He winked.
"Or," you countered, drawing out the word like taffy as you sprawled across his chest, "we could just keep this up for the next sixty years and die hot and mysterious in our sleep, so people have to invent all sorts of theories about us."
"I like your plan more," Jeno said. He tilted his head back on the pillow, brow furrowing in the adorable way it always did when debating which of the three hundred brands of protein bar to buy, or now, presumably, which post-coital metaphor was most apt.
You waited for him to say something else, but he just laced his fingers with yours and held them to his chest, where you could feel the hammering sound of his heart. After a minute, you realized the only thing louder was your own pulse, tripping over itself trying to outpace the clock.
Through the open window, traffic noises rose and fell, and in some vaguely zen way you understood that somewhere in the city people were tallying invoices or slicing sashimi or folding hospital corners into bedsheets, their hearts trundling along in their own prosaic fashion. In here, the room still spun with the afterimages of hands and heat and all the odd, gooey data points that, to your mind, elevated sex from a commodity to an existential event. You thought of magnetsâhow sometimes the only way to split up a pair fused together by attraction was to shatter them outright. Or better yet: melt them, so they pooled and alloyed into something altogether new and improbable.
Jeno then shifted until he was more or less lying fully on top of you, something heâd normally never allow for fear of âcrushing you, or oxygen deprivation.â Just like that, you went liquid, one arm around his, one leg tossed over his thighs so thoroughly you could practically feel his DNA rearranging yours on a molecular level. He mumbled something into your hair, insensate and boneless, and instead of feeling smothered, you felt safer than youâd ever known.
---
thank you for reading!! lmk your thoughts about the fic!! <3
IM FREAKING SCREAMING THIS IS SO HOTTTTTTTTTTTT AS MUCH AS I ENJOYED THE LAST PART ....MORE THAN I SHOULD HAVE ....... this sub jeno in particular................ i think something has also awaken in me ........ . . . . jk maybe but seriously this may be more filth but it's so so gooooood still đĽš
summary: in the midst of jeno trying to help you pass a statistics class, you become friends, and eventually, that friendship turns into something neither of you can define. you say he fucks around too much. he says you're not his type. and as far as you're both concerned, it's not that deep anyway.
pairing: fuckboy student!jeno x f!reader.    Â
genre: university!au, fluff, crack, angst, friends(ish) to lovers, smut! mdni! woop woop Â
word count: ~25k Â
warnings: oh boy⌠jeno and oc are both warnings in this, emotional constipation, a lil toxicity but it's all love, jealousy, they fuck obvs, kissing, spitting, fingering, dry humping, oral (fem receiving), he eats it from the back, multiple orgasms, overstim, dirty talk, praise, possessiveness, light choking, lots of teasing, nipple play, his dicc is big bcâŚcmon, he's a hard dom but the tables do turn a couple times, rough sex, he alters her brain chem, sweet sex also, multiple positions, jen goes through it in one scene(you'll see), angst!!!!, same page!hae makes a few appearances (yes, that's a warning), alcohol consumption, there's a lot more tbh but im so tired rnÂ
a/n: happy gooning!!! thatâs it. thatâs the tea. also pls send me love im a desperate whore. i'll get a girl boner for each note/ask. ALSO!!! im now officially an unemployed international postgrad student so pls support me on ko-fi (if you can), it would mean the world to little old međđźđđź i genuinely hope you love this fic. i almost went mental writing it - pls excuse any typos. thank u love u bai :â)Â
masterlist | ko-fi
Jeno isnât supposed to be upstairs. Â
Jaeminâs party has already tipped into chaos â music too loud, bodies packed too close, laughter spilling into corners it doesnât belong â and Jeno feels detached from all of it. Heâs tried to lean into it, tried to drink past the restless feeling sitting heavy in his chest, but it hasnât worked.Â
Someone mentions his room being occupied offhandedly, like itâs a joke. Jeno barely reacts at first. People drift in and out of rooms at parties all the time. It shouldnât matter.Â
Still, his feet carry him upstairs.Â
The hallway is quieter, the noise dulling with every step, and when he stops in front of his bedroom door, something feels⌠off. Thereâs no grim moans bleeding through the walls. No laughter. Just a silence that doesnât quite fit with the rest of the house.Â
He hesitates, fingers curling around the handle before he pushes the door open, and his eyes land on you: lying back on the bed with your legs dangling over the edge, one arm resting across your stomach, hair falling loosely around your face. Even from the doorway, you look⌠different.Â
âY/N?â His voice comes out tentative, cautious.Â
His suspicions of you being asleep disappear when your head quickly raises. Your wide eyes show surprise. Â
âJen? Hi.â You sit up quickly, as though youâve been caught red handed. âIs this your room?â Â
âYeah.â He nods, taking in the perplexed expression on your face. âWhatâs wrong? Are you okay?â His words come out rushed as he shuts the door behind him, giving you both privacy and all of a sudden, he feels like heâs intruding, even though youâre in his room. Â
âYeah, sorry, just needed some privacy.â You shake your head. âI can go.â You rush to get up and he instantly feels guilt wash over him.Â
âNo, no. Youâre fine.â He cuts you off, his hand waving defensively and you settle back on his bed with a sigh. âDid something happen?â He asks carefully, somewhat worried now. Heâs never seen you like this before. Not that he sees you much outside your tutoring sessions, but the times he does, youâre all chirpy and playful, always cracking jokes. He doesnât know you well but itâs evident that youâre not your usual self. Â
âUm, not really.â You scoff, an exasperated laugh leaving you. âItâs silly, donât worry about it.â Your eyes stay on your hands as you play with your rings and he realises heâs never noticed them before. Pretty, he thinks.Â
He moves to sit on the carpeted floor, leaning his head on the foot of the bed, next to where your legs are dangling off the edge. Heâs now decided that this situation is a lot more interesting than the chaotic party Jaemin decided to throw downstairs. Half his friends are drunk off their faces, the other half busy getting there, while Haechan and his girlfriend have already disappeared to god knows where. And you? You seem somewhat sober and definitely in need of some company. Â
âWhatâs up, Y/N? Youâre clearly upset.â He presses, not happy with your vague answer. Jeno is a nosy guy and he knows that about himself, but in this case, heâs also worried and for some reason, he canât seem to be able to let this go. Â
âIâm not upset.â You defend, making clear that heâs touched a nerve. âIâm pissed off.â Oh? He canât help but crane his neck sideways to look up at you. Your eyes meet for a split second and itâs clear as daylight now, you really are pissed off. But thereâs something else behind your eyes, he canât quite decipher. Embarrassment maybe?Â
âShit.â He turns to look in front of him again, legs crossing to make himself comfortable. âWhoâs the culprit?â Â
âClassic shitty ex with his shitty new girlfriend, you know the drill.â You explain, sounding like you hate yourself for even talking about this. Jeno gets it. Â
âAh. I assume theyâre here showing off their happiness?â Â
âYou assume correct.â You confirm and Jeno canât see you, but he imagines you nodding your head. Â
âWant me to beat the shit out of him?â Â
Your snort tells him that heâs succeeding at making you feel a tiny bit better and he canât hold his smile back. Â
âYou wouldnât hurt a fly Lee Jeno.â He feels the mattress dipping behind him and when he looks back up he canât see your face anymore. Youâre lying down again. Â
âHey, I work out.â He elbows your calf playfully, earning another tiny laugh from you. Â
âReally? I couldnât tell.â Your sarcasm doesnât go unnoticed. Â
âI see you checking me out when I talk stats.â He jokes, expecting a snarky response. Â
âIâm just a heterosexual female, Jeno. I see muscles, I stare.â So, you do check him out? Â
âI mean, I was joking, but stare away if it makes you happy.â Itâs your turn to make him laugh, kicking him in the ribs lightly. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and Jeno ignores the buzzing coming from his back pocket, probably Jaemin or Jisung looking for him. Heâd rather be here right now though. Not because he enjoys your company, he just feels a sense of calmness he doesnât want to ruin. Or at least thatâs what he tells himself.Â
âFeeling any better?â He breaks the silence a few moments later and for some reason, Jeno feels comfortable enough to lean his head against your leg, eyes closing to stop the room from spinning. He realises he must be slightly more intoxicated than he thought he was now that heâs sitting down and he smiles when you donât retract, his temple resting on your soft calf.  Â
âA little.â You nudge his head with your leg. âThanks.â You say softly. âAnd sorry for spoiling your night.â Â
âYou didnât.â He reassures you quickly. If anything, you made it interesting, but he doesnât admit that out loud. Â
âHow come youâre up here?â You ask, as though youâve had an epiphany and Jeno lets out a short laugh through his nose, eyes remaining closed. Â
âIn my room?â He teases and heâs aware that heâs deflecting, but he hopes you donât catch him. Â
âHa-ha funny. You know what I mean.â It was worth a try, but thereâs no deceiving you it seems. Â
âJust not in the right mood for a party.â He confesses, sounding almost defeated. And he feels it. Â
âTired?â Jeno can tell youâre sat up now, you voice coming from directly above. Â
âYeah, it appears trying to force knowledge in that pretty little head of yours takes it out of me.â His joke lands well, getting a laugh out of you but then you startle him with a flick of your fingers on the back of his head. âOi!â He leans forward, hand cupping the spot you just attacked. Â
âInsult me again. I dare you.â Your provocative tone intrigues him in a way, even though the pain on his scalp. Â
âDamn woman.â He complains, the heel of his hand rubbing his head now. âDo that to your shitty ex and youâve got yourself a gorgeous homerun.â He jokes and almost flinches when you lightly ruffle his hair in a comforting manner. Soft and tender. A complete opposite to your usual demeanour.Â
âCare to answer my question now?â You return to your previous subject, not letting it slide and heâs almost annoyed that youâre so observant. Â
He leans back again, resting his head on the mattress and heâs met with your face. From this upside-down angle, he notices the necklace that dangles off your neck as you lean forward to get a better look at him. Itâs dainty, like your rings, and it sits prettily between your collarbones. Â
âJust felt a bit lonely, I guess.â He admits and he feels exposed. Itâs been sitting with him all night. He hadnât meant to say it, but now that he has, it feels strangely relieving. He canât quite put his finger on the reason, but he thinks it has something to do with the way you look at him. No judgment in your eyes, just understanding. Could also be the fact that youâre upside down. Â
âAs in, thereâs no one to talk to or no girl to stick your dick in?â Your question takes him aback and if he werenât looking at you, he might have thought youâre mocking him. Your perfectly serious expression tells him otherwise. Â
Jeno shrugs. âBoth?â God, he sounds sad. Â
âThereâs plenty of pretty girls downstairs, no?â You shuffle to the edge of the bed now, sliding down to join him on the floor, mirroring his way of sitting. Though your eyes are on the ceiling, his are stuck on your side profile, your neck and that stupid necklace. Have you always been this captivating or is he just drunk and horny? Heâs always thought of you as a girl who happens to be a friend. Not his usual type. Or maybe thatâs his way of coping with the fact that youâre actually too good for him. Â
âNone Iâd wanna stick my dick in.â The words leave his mouth before he can contemplate them and your eyes close as you breathe out a chuckle. âPlus, my room was already occupied anyway.â He teases, smiling at the way your kiss your teeth, feigning annoyance. Â
âMy apologies, Mr. top shagger. I was experiencing a misery crisis.â You retort, lazily turning your head to stare at him. His laugh dies out a second after, but his smile lingers as his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before trailing back up to yours. Thereâs mischief written all over your face and for the first time in what feels like forever, Jeno feels flustered. Itâs like youâve got him all figured out and he knows that if you were to read his thoughts right now, you would most likely condemn him to eternal hell. Â
âWhat?â He asks, deflection getting the best of him again. Â
âNothing.â You shake your head, diverting your gaze to your hands again. âYouâre the one staring.â Thereâs a subtle tint of pink on your cheeks and now itâs Jenoâs turn to smirk. Youâre shy. Because of him. Â
âThatâs new.â His observation comes out in a hushed tone. Not intentional. Â
âWhat is?â Your eyebrows furrow in question and your eyes find his again. Â
âYouâre blushing.â He points his chin at your face and to his surprise you donât shy away. Instead, you maintain eye contact, one eyebrow raising daringly as you try not to smile, tongue poking into your cheek. Â
âAnd youâre flirting.â The slight tilt of your head gets his heart going a little faster. âThatâs also new.â Your smirk returns and your eyes narrow, studying him.Â
âIs it though?â Whatever has taken over him, Jeno canât explain it, but youâre reciprocating and he has no intention of stopping until you do. What are the odds of this going to shit anyway?Â
âWhen have you ever flirted with me?â A genuine question, nonetheless, not a valid one. Jenoâs flirted with you in the past. Subtly. But he has. Aways harmless. No ulterior motives. Until now.Â
âYou know I have. Youâve just never flirted back.â He explains casually. It's the truth and your cheeky grin accompanied by your silence validates his argument. You might be terrible at stats, but youâre not oblivious. âDo you not want me to flirt with you?â He tests. Â
âI never said that.â You shrug, your nonchalance doing something to him he canât quite describe. He feels it in his spine though, and itâs unnerving and hot at the same time. Â
âSo, you want me to?â He doubles down, enjoying whatever turn the conversation has taken. Your hesitation intrigues him, gaze drifting down to his lips for a split second before returning to his eyes. Jeno knows the signs.Â
âNever said that either.âÂ
âOh, fuck off.â His hand has no business grabbing the back of your neck and your lips have no business being this soft against his, yet both of those things are happening before Jeno can process his actions and he canât stop the low grunt that rumbles in his chest. You kiss him back like you expected it, like you were prepared for it and that eggs him on even more. Â
You shuffle closer, your hands finding home on the sides of his neck, holding him close, making his head spin as he struggles to stay sane. The low moan you let out against his lips allows him to lick into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours, gliding, flicking, tasting you eagerly. He really shouldnât be doing this - fuck stats, fuck tutoring - but the thought doesnât even register.  Not when you look so good on his floor and taste even better on his tongue. He only knows that youâre here, close, and he wants more.Â
He tugs on your hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp and you obediently allow your head to loll back, giving him space to attack your neck with wet kisses, your perfume invading his senses, clouding his mind as he sucks on your pulse. He smirks when you whine, the sweet sound reaching his already half hard dick. He lets his other hand travel down your body and when he reaches the inside of your thigh, he squeezes the flesh, waiting for you to protest, to stop him or indicate in any kind of way that you donât want him to keep going. Instead, you spread your bent legs expectantly.Â
No words are exchanged apart from a low âfuckâ he lets out when you hurriedly dip your hands under your short skirt, tugging at your panties and the second theyâre on the floor, Jeno wastes no time. His fingers find your folds instantly, rubbing from your entrance to your clit and he grunts at the wet glide, so fucking wet, he thinks as he circles your bundle of nerves slowly at first, then more determined, wanting desperately to get you off. Itâs like heâs possessed. He canât think straight, the only thought dancing around his mind is seeing you fall apart on his floor.Â
You bring his lips to yours again, hands pulling at his hair as your tongue invades his mouth and your hips grind against his hand. Heâs in a slightly uncomfortable position, butt still on the floor, body twisted at the waist as youâre splayed on his carpet, head resting on the edge of his mattress. Not that it matters anyway.Â
âMake me cum.â You moan in his mouth; demanding and breathy and he swallows it with a filthy kiss, moaning when he dips a finger in your needy hole. Youâre so wet, making his mind go blank and he feels like he could give you anything you asked for at this point. He pulls out, trying two fingers this time, knowing you can take the stretch with how drenched you are. Â
âPull your skirt up.â He instructs softly, lips dragging against yours. Â
You do exactly as he asks, revealing the unholy sight of his fingers slowly fucking into you. Your clit is engorged due to the arousal and he canât shake the thought of his lips wrapping around it, sucking as hard as he pleases, flicking until youâre shaking. He settles for splitting you open with his fingers for now. Â
He curls the digits slightly, pressing them upwards as he starts drilling into you at a rough and quick pace. The quelching noises sound almost melodic to him. Thatâs what good pussy sounds like, he thinks and he relishes in the loud mewl you let out, knowing heâs hitting the right spot. Â
âThere?â He breathes out against your temple, desperately needing to unbutton his jeans, the constricting feeling torturing him, but your nod keeps him going. Â
âYeah.â You pant, your eyes on his hand, taking in the erotic image as your nails dig into his thigh through his godforsaken jeans, and he wishes he could feel your touch properly, without any barriers. Â
He makes sure the heel of his palm stimulates your clit each time he fucks into you and he praises the universe when your walls flutter around his fingers. Â
âOh my- fuck!â You cry out as you head tips, eyes rolling back, jaw dropping in a silent moan and Jeno feels lightheaded at the newfound, sinful image of you climaxing. Your cunt clamps down on his hand, making it impossible for him to keep thrusting, so he buries his fingers all the way in your pulsating heat and starts harshly rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your thighs start quiverig, eventually closing and trapping his hand between them, preventing him from continuing. Â
Your expression resembles an angelic one as you take deep breaths, trying to resurface back to sanity. âJesus.â You whisper, almost like a prayer and he lets out a short breathless laugh, nails scratching the back of your scalp to help you calm down as your body still trembles. Â
âYou good?â He bends down a little, stealing a kiss off your shoulder. The reason unknown to him, but he doesnât question it either. Â
âMhm.â You nod lazily, turning your head to look at him and your fucked out eyes remind him of the big problem in his jeans. âI think we should fuck.â You blurt out unexpectedly and he feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. He thinks exactly the same, he just didnât expect you to spell it out like itâs the most normal thing in the world. But then again, youâve always been the blunt type. A woman who knows what she wants. Heâll bite. Â
âDo you, now?â He purposely feigns surprise as he drags his fingers out of your now relaxed walls and doesnât even warn you before hooking his arms underneath you; one around your middle, the other one under your bent knees. Your small yelp makes him smile and your arms coming to wrap around his neck in urgency tug at his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel dizzy.Â
 He carries you for a few seconds as he walks around his bed, dropping you so your head lands on his pillows. You bounce a couple of times before sitting up, resting your weight on your palms. Â
âDonât you think thatâs inappropriate?â He asks, trying to maintain a serious tone but removing his t-shirt anyway. Â
âJust a tad.â You say absentmindedly, eyes shamelessly trailing down his naked torso, landing on his hands as they work his belt undone. Jeno is aware of his above average size, but your eyes slightly widening when he shoves both his jeans and boxers down, definitely do wonders to his ego. Â
He kneels on the bed, shuffling until heâs situated between your already parted legs. He taps on your chin with his index to get your attention. âYouâre drooling. Arms up.â He bites his lip trying to conceal a smile as you sit up properly, extending your arms above your head. âCute.â He mumbles before dipping down to take hold of the hem of your top, dragging it up and off you, revealing your pretty tits. The lack of bra causes his brain to short circuit for a second before discarding the top somewhere behind him and he doesnât waste time, moving to unzip your skirt. He smirks at the way you adorably raise your bum to help him remove the last piece of clothing. Â
âHow do you want it?â He asks, trying to sound unaffected, all the while aching to touch you all over, heart threatening to jump out of his chest. You bite your bottom lip in thought, contemplating your options. Â
âCan I be on top first?â You ask tentatively, neck craning so you can look up at him. Youâre so pretty like this. Splayed on his sheets with nothing on but that necklace he canât seem to get enough of. Jeno nods in understanding, gathering that youâre most likely worried he wonât fit in any other position and heâs more than happy to let you take him however you please. Â
He plops down next to you on the mattress, still sat up and you quickly follow, dragging your knees on his sheets so you can straddle him. His hands move instinctively, taking hold of your hips, pulling you closer as you slightly hesitate and the second your knees trap his hips between them and your arms wrap loosely around his neck, he allows his own to slither around your middle. Your tits brush against his chest and he has to hold back a groan at the soft sensation. Â
His eyes find that necklace again and this time he canât refrain from voicing his thoughts. âThat looks good on you.â His chin points at the piece of jewellery and you look down momentarily before realising what heâs referring to. Â
âThanks. I like yours.â You pull at his plain silver chain with your fingers, bringing his face closer to yours. Your blush is back, making him feel giddy. Whatâs wrong with him? He canât even blame it on the alcohol; he feels mostly sober now.Â
He trails a hand up your side, palming your breast momentarily before his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear, palm coming to rest on the side of your neck, thumb tracing your jawline delicately. Â
âCan I kiss you?â You ask hesitantly, your lips almost touching. Â
âYou can do anything you want.â He utters quietly and he sighs when you close the tiny gap, your lips moulding against his. You kiss him deep and slow - slower than heâs used to - lightly nipping at his bottom lip, a satisfied hum escaping his chest when your hands tip his head back a little, yours angling to the side so you can deepen the kiss. Your tongue obscenely glides against his, your taste invading his senses and the wet smacks of your lips turn him on even more. His cock twitches between your bodies and he moans when you push him by the shoulders, letting himself land on the pillows, dragging you with him. Â
âFuck, how are you so hot?â You whine as you trail kisses down the side of his neck and he huffs out a laugh, the compliment reaching his ears as he feels them getting warmer. Â
âHave you seen yourself?â He breathes out weakly as you suck on a spot that has him reeling, his hand tangling in your hair to hold you there, giving you permission to mark him. Â
âShut up.â You murmur against the sensitive spot, your tongue soothing the scratch of your teeth. Â
âFuck you.â He retorts childishly, hands grabbing your ass, squeezing greedily, pushing you downwards as he grinds his hips up, length slipping between your puffy folds, your arousal coating him perfectly. âYouâre so wet.â He moans against your shoulder as you keep sucking greedily, and Jeno is positive the spot on his neck will feel sore tomorrow. Â
You sit up abruptly, eyes finding his, looking enticing as ever, pupils blown out, lips wet and swollen. You shock him when you lewdly dribble in your palm before reaching down to engulf his painfully hard cock in the very same hand.Â
âJesus.â He pants as you lather him in your spit and slick, the glide of your hand sensational. You shuffle slightly upwards, aligning him with your entrance and he helps you maintain your balance with his hands on your waist. Â
âAh, fuck.â You whine when his tip breaches your snug hole and he feels like heâs losing his mind. Thereâs no way a pussy can be this wet and feel this good. Your contorted expression tells him you might not be enjoying this as much as he is though, which brings him back to reality. Â
âYou okay?â He drops his hands to your ass cheeks, spreading them as far apart as they can go, hoping the action offers your pussy some relief. Â
âIt stings a bit.â The cute scrunch of your nose makes his heart race, and he has to refrain from fully thrusting into your pulsating heat. âKeep your hands there.â You plead and he does, holding you open as you try to sink down a little further with a whimper of discomfort. Â
âCome here, kiss me for bit.â His words must affect you, the tightening of your walls suffocating him, but you follow through, arms wrapping securely around his neck as your lips find his again. He kisses you slow, matching your rhythm from before, tongues gliding languidly, still wet and messy, but mostly intimate. Too intimate. And he knows itâs working when your walls start relaxing around him, your cunt producing another gush of slick that drips down to his base. Â
He takes matters into his own hands, hips raising to thrust into you little by little in quick, short pumps and when your mouth drops open against his, he moans, finding pleasure in pleasuring you. Â
âBetter?â He whispers, searching for any signs of discomfort as your eyebrows crease adorably. Â
âUh-huh.â You nod quickly, nose bumping against his as you kiss him again, all tongue and teeth, and Jeno doesnât stop fucking you. Even when heâs fully sheathed in, he keeps going, quickly but gently pumping into your slippery warmth, length barely pulling out before sliding back in. âFuck, youâre s-so deep.â You whine dreamily and he loves that youâre not moving, hips still, trusting him, taking what heâs giving you from underneath as his hands stay on your ass, holding your cheeks apart just like you asked him to. Â
When you sit up a little, palms resting on his chest as you start meeting his thrusts, you let out a loud moan and Jeno assumes his cock is hitting exactly where it should be hitting. Your tits are bouncing beautifully, nipples hard from arousal and he wishes he had his mouth all over them, but doesnât risk changing the angle of his hips, fucking you how you need him to. He doesnât need your words, just your closed eyes, slack jaw and trembling breaths are enough for him to know youâre lost in pleasure. Â
âJen- f-fuck me harder.â Music to his ears. Â
âYeah? You sure?â Â
âMhm yeah, right there, just harder.â You nod quickly, eyes pleading and how could he ever deny you anything. Â
âFuck, baby.â He barely registers the pet name leaving his lips, but he knows it does something to you, pussy gripping him a little tighter than before and when his hips start smacking against yours, ass jiggling in his hands, you both moan loudly. Â
âOh, fuck, y-yes, like that.â You cry out, back arching, head tipping backwards in ecstasy and Jeno canât find it in him to stop staring at you. Thereâs sweat dripping between your bouncing breasts, and all he can think is how much he wants to lap it up, how much he wants to lather your nipples in his spit and feel the weight of your pretty tits in his palms. Â
âRub your clit for me.â He requests in a frenzy, desperate to see you fall apart again. Your ring-clad fingers quickly find the swollen nub, drawing frantic circles around it and Jeno feels his balls tightening at the sight, cock throbbing as he nears his end. Your eyes find his for a split second before they roll back as you visibly start shaking, your hand quickly leaving your clit with a shriek as though the stimulation feels painful. âThatâs it.âÂ
 He doubles down even through the kneading of your walls around him, thrusts becoming more brutal, balls slapping against your ass. He becomes desperate with the way your nails dig into his chest, his grip on your ass tightening, causing the flesh to ripple. He selfishly hopes his fingers leave bruises, reminding you tonight for days.Â
He swears the obscene slapping sounds that echo, along with your loud cries of desperation, surpass the best quality porn heâs ever watched. If he could only have a recording of the incoherent blabbering leaving your mouth now, heâd happily ditch all the porn sites and just listen to that whenever heâd want to bust a nut.Â
âFuck fuck fuck fuck.â You cry out in panic, desperately trying to raise your hips, unable to handle what heâs giving you, but that just urges him to drive into you even harder, refusing to hold back now that heâs got your body spasming hard on his cock. âJ-Jen- I c-can't, f-fu-â Â
He wraps a secure arm around your middle, quickly manoeuvring you on your back and before you can protest, heâs slipping right back inside your warmth, his lips silencing your cries. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he supports his weight on one arm, hooking your leg over his elbow, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. His hips resume their abuse, cock driving into your spent hole repeatedly as he seeks his own release. Your pussy is still quivering around him, forcing a guttural groan out of his chest. Â
âSo fucking good.â He mumbles in utter bliss, your walls squeezing him just right and he accepts defeat, knowing that he canât last much longer. âCan I cum inside?â He asks for permission, half conscious of the fact that heâs not wearing a condom. He feels helpless. Â
âYeah.â Your hands squeeze his biceps in reassurance. âFill me up, Jen.â You whisper and he swears itâs the most erotic thing a girl has ever said to him during sex. And heâs fucked many girls. None have uttered his name like you do though. Â
âShit.â Heâs panting uncontrollably, his sweat dripping on your skin, mixing with yours as your hands come to cradle his face in comfort, and he gets this strange feeling in his chest. Youâre too tender. Too soft. And then youâre leaning up slightly, kissing him but itâs almost as if heâs forgotten how to use his lips, mouth hanging open against yours, releasing a deep grunt as his orgasm takes over him. His arm starts trembling, struggling to hold him up, blunt nails sinking into the flesh of your thigh as his hips stutter, pumping messily into your wet heat, hot spurts of his release painting your gummy walls, claiming you in the best way possible. He wonders if heâs entered heaven or some unknown dimension, convinced that the way your cunt is milking him is out of this world. Â
When his thrusts come to a halt, length burying inside you as he releases your leg, he hears the whimper you let out, feels it against his lips and that reminds him to kiss you again. And again. And again. Until you both canât breathe. Until his lips feel sore. Until youâre desperately pulling at his hair. Until heâs had enough of you. If thatâs even possible.Â
He slips out with a sharp inhale, making you mewl and youâre both looking down, taking in the sight of his now softening cock, all covered in both of your releases. He sits up a little, shamelessly staring at your pulsating hole while forcing your legs wide open. Some of his cum escapes, slowly dripping down to your ass and Jeno feels lightheaded at the sight of your pretty cunt; all puffy and swollen because of him. Â
âStop staring you creep.â You complain, playfully kicking him in the ribs as his hold on your inner thighs loosens. Â
He observes you for a moment; taking in how beautifully ruined you look. Your chest flushed, sweat all over your skin, nipples still slightly erect, tits jiggling a tiny bit from your intense breathing. The blush creeps up to your neck and reaches your cheeks, lips so red and shiny one could think you have a dark shade of lip gloss on. He feels a wave of satisfaction wash over him, knowing that itâs all him; that itâs his spit covering your lips, that your skin is covered in the afterglow of the orgasms he just fucked out of you. Â
âGoing shy on me again?â He teases with a raise of his eyebrows, hand playfully squeezing the flesh of your thigh, before he shuffles upwards, lying next to you on his front, arm lazily draping over your middle as he tries to regulate his breathing. Â
âWhat if I closely stared at your dick like I was examining it?â You joke, absentmindedly scratching up and down his arm. He allows his eyes to shut, the relaxing motions of your fingers causing drowsiness to take over him as he shuffles closer to you, seeking more of your warmth.Â
âGo ahead, I got a pretty good dick.â He mumbles sleepily against your upper arm. You whack him lightly but that still startles him in his woozy state. Â
âCan you bring me something to clean up with?â You cringe as you rub your thighs together in discomfort and he shoots up from the bed quickly, feeling bad for neglecting you. He so easily sunk into the comfort of your warmth and that scares him a little. This is just sex, right? Nothing too deep. Just sex between two people who were having a shitty night and decided to make it better. Just incredible, mind-blowing sex with the girl he tutors twice a week for extra credit. Right? Â
The act of aftercare is normally something he indulges in to subtly get rid of the other person. Never intimate, just transactional. In this case, kicking you out hasnât even crossed his mind. He realises that he wouldnât mind if you spent the entire night or at least just stayed a little longer. But surely thatâs owed to the fact that he knows you in a way. Youâre not just a random girl he met and decided to fuck and chuck. Youâre friends. Right?Â
âShit, yeah, one sec.â He slips out of bed and rushes to his ensuite bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks wrecked; sweat glistening on his skin, lips swollen, the hickey on his neck visible already, dick still shiny with slick and cum. He splashes some cold water on his face and neck, allowing the cooling feeling to wake him up before cleaning himself up. Â
When he re-enters the room, youâre on your side in foetal position, very clearly asleep and he canât help the quiet chuckle that leaves him. He carefully rolls you onto your back again and you hum contentedly as he slowly drags the warm damp towel between your legs, cleaning your folds and inner thighs as gently as possible. He feels guilty when he shakes you lightly, waking you up, but he knows youâll thank him tomorrow.Â
âYou gotta pee first, then we can sleep.â He whispers, careful not to pull you out of your slumber completely. Â
âI um- I can go home,â You mumble, still half-asleep, clearly dreading the effort. Silly.Â
âHow about just the bathroom, hm?â He scoops you up bridal style again, exactly like he did before, only now youâre completely naked and your head buries in his neck, nuzzling sleepily. âIâll drive you home tomorrow.â He reassures you and smiles when he feels your arms tighten around his neck. Â
âYouâre actually a sweet guy, arenât you, Jen?â You mumble dazedly against his skin and he carefully sets you down on the toilet seat. Â
âAlways the tone of surprise.â He teases as he combs your hair out of your face and behind your ears. âDo your thing. Iâll be back in a sec.â Â
He heads back into his room, picking up your clothes off the floor, folding them neatly on his chair before rifling through his drawers for a comfy t-shirt for you to wear. He hears the faint trickle from the bathroom and canât help but laugh quietly. A small routine, small domesticity â nothing like him, yet it feels⌠right. He grabs his phone, sending Renjun three quick texts, hoping his friend is not too drunk to respond. Â
Jeno: can you bring me a glass of water plsÂ
Jeno: in my room Â
Jeno: knock. Â
RJ: on itÂ
RJ: you ok?Â
Jeno: yeh all goodÂ
âIâm done.â Your voice floats from the bathroom, followed by a flush as he puts a clean pair of boxers on before rushing to come get you. Â
âHey, lazy bum.â He enters to find you perched exactly where he left you, elbows on your knees. âDid you wipe, or do you want me to do that for you too?â He teases and you whine sleepily, face buried in your hands. Â
âI did. I promise.â Â
âGood. Now arms up.â You comply without a question, and he carefully slips the t-shirt on you, warmth spreading in his chest when you sigh at the comfort of cotton, hugging your arms to yourself. You blink up at him, looking soft as ever as you make grabby hands, and his insides almost melt at the cuteness. Â
Why does he feel this sudden urge to coddle you? Sure, Jeno likes looking after his friends, making sure theyâre happy and healthy, but this is different. In all his sexual encounters, heâs always maintained boundaries â never lent clothes, never ensured a girl didnât get a UTI, never carried them around.Â
With you, he finds that heâs already broken most of those boundaries in one single night. And he doesnât know why.Â
He carries you back to the bed, only this time you cling onto him like a koala bear, arms and legs wrapped around him in a tight hug. He puts you down gently, tucks you in with the duvet, smoothing it over you, making sure youâre comfortable. A knock on the door makes you blink in question.Â
âItâs just my housemate.â He reassures before getting up to crack the door open. Â
âHere you go, sir.â Renjun presents him with a pint of water and Jeno gratefully accepts it with a smile. Â
âThanks.â He goes to shut the door again, but Renjun quickly stops him. Â
âDude, whatâs going on?â A worrisome expression on his face.Â
âNothing. Iâm just- I'm not alone.â Jeno points his thumb behind him, without really allowing Renjun to look inside his room.Â
âOh.â Renjun almost looks surprised, an inquisitive look taking over his face which makes Jeno feel scrutinised. His friends know him well enough to know that he doesnât just hide girls in his room. Â
âIâll explain tomorrow.â He assures his friend, silently implying that he canât elaborate right now. Thankfully Renjun catches on quick and turns to leave after giving him a thumbs up. Jeno doesnât fail to give him a fond smile for respecting his privacy. Itâs one of the things he loves the most about that boy; he doesnât hover, unless heâs needed. Â
Jeno takes a couple of gulps before placing the glass of water on the nightstand next to you. Your eyes are closed again and when he quietly joins you under the covers, he feels you shift next to him. He checks if your eyes are still closed and when he confirms they are, he turns off the bedside lamp, allowing the darkness to engulf both of you. Â
Heâs lying on his back; arm folded under his head as he contemplates the choices heâs made tonight. Your stable breathing calms him in a way, and he finds himself trying to match your rhythm. When your hand brushes against his arm, fingers curling around just above his elbow, he freezes slightly, savouring the small contact.Â
âJen?â You whisper, as if checking heâs still there with you. Â
âHm?â Â
âI donât want things to be weird.â Fuck. Â
âThey wonât be.â He turns toward you, voice soft, though the darkness obscures your features.Â
âHow do you know that?â Youâre still whispering and he doesnât know why, since youâre the only two people in the room. He matches your tone anyway. Â
âI mean...â His words falter briefly as your grip tightens. âThings donât have to be weird, right?â Your fingers loosen, but they remain there and Jeno has trouble breathing. Itâs not that deep, he thinks to himself. Â
âRight.â Youâre not convinced; he can tell. And neither is he. Â
âYouâre overthinking.â No shit, Sherlock. Â
Your sigh lands on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He senses you closer than he expected. âAnd youâre not?âÂ
Itâs his turn to let out a sigh this time. Â
âRight.â Your tone cools, as though distancing yourself slightly. Your hand remains, a tether.Â
âI donât know what to tell you, Y/N.â He sounds defeated and he wishes he could give you the reassurance youâre looking for. He canât though. Not without lying. Â
âDo you want me to leave?â Your question takes him aback.Â
âWhat? No, thatâs not what Iâm saying, Y/N.â He rubs a hand over his face in exasperation. Â
âStop saying my name like that.â Your voice not a whisper anymore and that does something to his head. Â
âLike what?â He provokes, tone harsher than intended. Â
âLike Iâm a problem you canât be bothered to deal with.â Your words pull him under, and he pauses to recollect his thoughts. He doesnât want to argue, but it seems you do and Jeno is confused. Did he just imagine the last hour?Â
He rolls on his side to face you, and you let your hand fall from his arm. He feels the absence. âCan we please talk about this tomorrow? With clear heads?âÂ
You shuffle closer and his heart thuds a little faster, your knee bumping into his accidentally. âOkay.â You whisper after youâve settled into a more comfortable position, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, Jeno senses a hesitancy in your movements.Â
âYou can move closer.â He smiles fondly and relief floods him when your arm wraps around his waist. He draws you in, fingers stroking the nape of your neck, tucking your head under his chin. âIf you wanted to cuddle, you couldâve just said.â Â
âShh.â You scold, earning a tiny laugh from him. Â
âYouâre funny.â He whispers into your hair, nails softly scratching your scalp, making you shudder. Â
âYouâre not.â You retort, half-mumbled, and he snorts. His distress has somewhat dissolved, however the tension and confusion linger and Jeno prays that a goodnightâs sleep will fix whatever it is that broke between you and him tonight.  Â
Jeno gets woken up by an involuntary twitch of his own body and when he slowly cracks his eyes open, heâs reminded that he once again forgot to roll his blinds down, allowing the morning sunlight to invade his room. Â
He attempts to get into a more comfortable position, the fruity scent you carry drifts over him, and he relaxes â youâre still here, safe and real, reminding him that last night wasnât just a fraction of his imagination.Â
Youâre clinging onto him; cheek squished against his chest and heâs pretty sure youâre drooling on him. He feels a laugh bubbling in his chest, but he holds it in, not wanting to wake you yet. Â
The position youâre both in is slightly different to the one Jeno remembers falling asleep in. Youâre using him as your pillow, your leg comfortably draped over his crotch, arm hugging his middle as though heâs your favourite teddy bear and heâs convinced that you must own one with the way you cling onto him like itâs a habit.Â
He raises his sprawled arm to wrap it around you and the second his hand finds your lower back, he assumes the shirt he put on you last night must have ridden up. His fingers splay just above your ass and heâs instantly reminded of your naked bottom half. He vividly remembers picking up your underwear off the floor last night, along with the rest of your clothes. Â
The thought of your nakedness brings him back to last night. Back to what you two did and how good you looked on top on him. And under him. And on his floor. His mind drifts from your smooth skin to the way you kissed him, to the way you took everything he gave you like you were made for it, like you craved it. He knows he shouldnât. Especially when youâre soundly asleep in his arms, but Jeno has to suppress a groan at the thought of your warm and wet p-Â
Your sleepy hum pulls him back to reality and he mentally presses pause on the daydreaming session, but your bent knee nudging against his half hard dick doesnât make things easy for him. Stupid morning wood, he thinks, as if his dirty mind didnât just cause this. Â
He keeps his eyes shut, trying to think of dead puppies or his gran and it seems to be working, until your body moves, your face nuzzling in his neck, knee dragging over his crotch. The long sigh you let out against his skin, causes goosebumps to raise and he mentally curses. Â
Redirecting his focus to your comfort, he allows his knuckles to trace gentle circles along your spine, and he smiles when you shudder slightly, the little tremble of your body sparking a sense of delight within him. Â
âYou awake?â You mumble in his neck, the tiny movement of your lips barely even there, but still enough to tickle him.  Â
âJust about.â His voice comes out raspy, vocal cords still half asleep, causing him to clear his throat. He subtly wiggles his hips a little further down the mattress to escape the pressure of your knee and when you move with him, clinging onto him with a whine, he canât help but use his free hand to steady you, forcing your leg further up his torso to ease the pressure. Â
âSorry.â You whisper into his skin. âAre you uncomfortable?â Â
âNo.â He reassuringly squeezes your thigh, thumb gingerly caressing the surface. âYou?âÂ
âNo. Surprisingly.â If his eyes were open, Jeno would have rolled them in annoyance. Â
âYeah, cause youâre always so uncomfortable around me.â His tone full of sarcasm, but he canât help it. If youâre going to give him attitude, youâre going to get it back. Especially this early in the day when heâs slightly hungover and has not had his morning coffee. Â
âGrow up. You know what I mean.â Your humourless words contrast the way your fingers softly trace the line of his collarbone, a quiet familiarity in the gesture.Â
âYou thought it would be awkward?â Â
âDidnât you?â Your head moves, nose rubbing against his jaw, and he knows youâre looking at him. He adamantly keeps his eyes closed. Â
âWhat, just cause we fucked?â The light slap he receives on his chest makes him chuckle. Heâs always enjoyed getting under your skin, but for some reason, now that youâre half naked in his bed, itâs even more rewarding. âIt would have been awkward only if the sex was bad.â Â
You keep quiet and Jeno gives into the urge to turn his head and look at you, blinking his eyes a few times, adjusting to the sunlight. He raises his eyebrows expectantly as he dips his hand under your loose shirt, fingertips light as air, traveling up and down your spine slowly. Â
âIs this you indirectly asking if I liked it or not?â Your eyebrows raise in response, mirroring his expression. Â
âNo, I already know you liked it. Just wanna know if it altered your brain chemistry.â He smirks at the way you roll your eyes, and if he didnât know you to a certain extent, Jeno would really think youâre annoyed, but he recognises your usual façade. Â
âMind-blowing sex isnât the answer to everything Lee Jeno.â Your hand engulfs his jaw, fingers squishing his cheeks and shaking his face from side to side gently. âIâm one of the very few female friends you have and youâve already stuck your penis in me. Raw.â Â
âCorrect me if Iâm wrong, but didnât you very blatantly ask me to fuck you?â His pointed look gets a surrendering smile out of you, hand now settling on the side of his neck. Heâs not even fazed by your proximity; noses almost touching, bodies flush against each other like youâve done this a million times.Â
âYou stuck you tongue down my throat and then fingered me like nobodyâs business. Iâm only human.â Your bluntness makes him grin.Â
âSo, whatâs the problem? We both wanted it, no?â He rolls to face you fully, leg fitting naturally between yours, touch grounding yet intimate. He tries his hardest to keep his attention on you, but the whimper you let out shows him youâre just as affected, and his hand has somehow fallen on your ass. Â
âWhy did you want it?â The question catches him off guard; your inquisitive eyes making his heart stutter. Â
âI was horny. And lonely. And you looked good. I mean...You always look good, I just-â He takes a breath to compose himself. Since when does he have trouble expressing himself in front of a woman? Â
âRelax, itâs not a test, Iâm just genuinely curious.â Your chuckle and your fingers lightly pushing his fringe out of the way help him compose his chaotic brain just a little. Â
âI dunno. I just wanted you.â He settles for honesty and if that comes to bite him in the ass later, then so be it. âThat too shallow for you?âÂ
âNo.â Your eyes travel around his face as youâre in deep thought and Jeno feels impatience creeping up on him. Â
âBut?â He challenges, knowing it canât be that simple. Â
âBut, I donât know if I can be normal around you now.â You purse your lips as you brush his bottom one with your thumb and he stops breathing for a second, his heart rate increasing significantly. âI donât really do casual sex.âÂ
He likes your honesty.Â
âWhen have you ever been normal around me, Y/N?â His light-hearted comment earns him a bashful smile from you, your thumb now tracing his cheekbone as he playfully gropes the part where your thigh connects to your ass. âLook, Iâm not expecting anything. If youâre uncomfortable, we can go back to normal. You get your tutoring. I get my extra credit.âÂ
âAnd youâd be happy with that?â Good question. Â
âIâm a big boy. If thatâs what you want, then thatâs what you want.â He offers a way out, but part of him hopes you donât take it.Â
âWhat if I donât know what I want?â Your eyes close, a long sigh escaping through your nose. He wants nothing more than to make it easier for you.Â
He smiles, conflicted.Â
âThen⌠I dunno. I guess we figure it out.â He says it casual, like itâs nothing â but his stomach twists anyway.Â
The drive back to yours is quiet. Not uncomfortable, but definitely unusual. Neither you nor Jeno are usually this quiet around each other but now your thoughts are too loud and so are your doubts. Â
You barely register the car coming to a stop, having completely spaced out. Itâs Jenoâs voice that brings you back to reality. Â
âIs here fine?â Â
âHm? Yeah. Hereâs great. Thanks for the lift.â His eyes are already on you when you look over at him, expectant and unsure. The corner of his mouth lifts subtly, a small smile forming as a response to your gratitude.Â
âIâll see you Tuesday?â The tapping of his fingers against the wheel sounds louder that it should. Â
âYeah. Tuesday.âÂ
âCool.âÂ
âCool.â You repeat dumbly, not sure how to approach your next words. Â
âAre y-âÂ
âThis shouldnât happen again.â You blurt out and the tapping stops, his eyebrows raising slightly, but other than that, he remains calm. Â
âAlright.â He nods understandingly. âIt wonât.â The warmth and playfulness his voice held until this morning, long gone. Â
âIâm sorry.â Â
âWhat for? You didnât do anything wrong.â He shrugs, his fake nonchalance sitting heavy in your stomach. Â
âI dunno. I feel like-âÂ
âY/N.â His hand finds your shoulder, hold grounding. âWeâre good. Honest.â He turns in his seat, facing you better. âPeople have sex all the time. Itâs not that deep.â He squeezes your shoulder once, barely there but you still feel it as his neutral smile does very little to convince you. Simply because it doesnât reach his eyes. You hate this unfamiliar side of him. Â
âItâs fine if you donât wanna tutor me anymore.âÂ
âI do.â Thereâs no hesitation in his voice, touch reassuring.Â
âYou sure?âÂ
âI am. As long as you are.â Another subtle squeeze, now on your upper arm, his hand having slid down. âPlus...I really need the extra credit.â His playfulness is back, and you canât hold back the sheepish smile that takes over your face. Â
âOkay then.â You exhale, somewhat relieved. Â
âOkay then.â He repeats, light-heartedly, the warm smile now reaching his eyes as his warm hand slides further down your arm before he completely retracts. The gesture should soothe you, but it somehow unsettles you. Â
Next time you see him is indeed Tuesday. Your regular first session of the week. And itâs all fine. Itâs all normal. Itâs all good. Â
Until it isnât. Â
Until you see a text pop up on his screen. Yuna. Â
We still on for tonight? It reads and you quickly avert your eyes back on the histogram displayed on your laptop screen. Something about a survey, a sample and frequencies. Itâs all a mess now. Who the fuck is Yuna? And why is she texting him? What about tonight? Â
You shouldnât care. You really shouldnât. But then heâs quickly typing a response you canât see and he places his phone face down. Like it never happened. Â
âWhatâd you get?â He interrupts your ridiculous thoughts as he leans over your shoulder to take a look at the scribbles on your notepad. âCorrect formula. Wrong result.âÂ
âWhat? Why?â Youâre more annoyed than you should be. His raised eyebrows betray his shock at your abrupt tone. Â
âYouâre asking me why you canât count?â His smirk is worth slapping off. âCheck your total number of observations again.â He taps his pen on the letter n and when you count again, you realise itâs 6 instead of 5. Great. You really canât count. Â
âThatâs just a silly mistake.âÂ
âWhich will cost you a whole lot of marks.â He does this thing where he twirls the pen between his index and middle finger, and it shouldnât be that attractive. âYou see, itâs not a matter of logic with you. You just need to concentrate.â Heâs enjoying this too much. His smile audible. Â
âI am concentrated.â You state stubbornly. Â
âConcentrate better.â Â
âFuck off.â Â
His lack of response causes you to look at him. His neutral eyes and pursed lips tell you heâs not going to entertain whatever argument youâre trying to start and that agitates you even more. So does his stupid cologne. And the fact that heâs so close still. His forearm is now resting on your notepad and all you can think of is how prettily it flexed when it was between your thighs. Â
âSorry.â You sigh, slumping back into your chair, looking around the quiet cafĂŠ. You need air and all you keep getting is his scent. Itâs not fair. Â
âAm I allowed to ask?â His tone is tentative, but present. Â
âAsk what?â Â
âWhatâs bothering you.â He starts going over what youâve written on your notepad with his pen, overlining letters and numbers, following every curve. You glance at his profile for a moment and youâre thankful heâs now focused on the page in front of you. Â
âNothing is bothering me.â You cross your arms over your chest defensively. Â
âLie better.â The corner of his lips twitches as he keeps outlining, still not looking at you. Smug bastard. Â
âIs it me?â He side-eyes you for a split second, gaze meeting yours before dropping back down to the mistaken 5 you wrote down earlier. Itâs like an insult.Â
âThatâs awfully egotistical of you.â You challenge, making him struggle to hold back his smile. âWhat makes you think that?âÂ
He shrugs. âJust a hunch.â Â
You lean over, elbow on the table, chin resting on your palm, closer now. âNot everything is about you, Jeno.â You say as calmly as possible. Â
His pen comes to a halt. Eyes catching yours without backing down now. Â
âAs if you donât think about me 24/7.â Itâs a joke, but itâs not. Â
âIs that what you tell yourself?â You shouldnât give into it. Into his flirting. But he makes it almost impossible to behave. Â
âIs it bad if I do?â Â
âNot bad. Youâre just wrong.â Â
âLike your calculations.â Â
âWhat?â Â
âSolve it again. No calculator. Not like it helped you the first time anyway.â He leans back in his chair with an unbothered expression, pen dropping dismissively on your notepad as he resembles your stance, arms crossing over his buff chest. âGo on, I donât have all day.â He points his chin to the page smugly. Did he just...play you?Â
âPrick.â Â
âMhm.âÂ
Is this what itâs going to be like from now on? If so, then youâre astronomically fucked. Â
Two weeks go by. Four tutoring sessions with Jeno â all pure torture. But somehow, focusing on the calculations and formulas actually pays off. You donât ask as many questions anymore, you get the correct results most of the time, and you even score 76% on the mock test Jeno printed out for you.Â
A glimmer of surprise flashes across his face when he finishes grading, but it quickly softens into something pleased. Proud, almost. Â
âNice one,â he says, head bobbing in approval. âLetâs get to 80 next time.âÂ
You like that look on him. Like that heâs proud of you. You wish you could see it more often.Â
But the wish evaporates the second you lay eyes on him tonight. Regret floods you for giving in to Markâs pleas to come to this stupid party. As if the man needs a wingman â he always does fine on his own. And so does Jeno, by the looks of it. But you already knew that. So why does your chest tighten when you see a girl standing between his spread legs, his casual perch on the kitchen counter, plastic cup in one hand, the other tucked in his hoodie pocket?Â
Heâs not touching her, but her hands are on his thighs, and even from behind her head, you see his face clearly. Smirking, dark eyes checking her out as he sips his drink. Thereâs no trace of innocence in the way heâs looking at her. Itâs the same way he looked at you that night in his room.Â
You know youâre out of bounds. Yet jealousy gnaws at you, and you hate yourself for it. It shouldnât affect you. You rejected him â or whatever that was. He should be the one pining, not you. But heâs fine, and here you are, still haunted by how warm and safe his body felt that morning.Â
Itâs unfair.Â
Unfair in every way: the way he doesnât spare you a glance, the way his eyes are fixed on her, the way he chuckles at whatever she says, the way he looks so good even while flirting with someone else.Â
Hood up, fringe falling messily over his eyes. He looks soft but dangerous at the same time. Effortless. Sleeves pushed up, baggy cargos that only he can pull off. Heâs hotter than ever â and sheâs touching him. Not you. Heâs looking at her. Not you. Laughing with her. Not you. Not you. Not you.Â
âDude, youâre staring.â Mark steps in, blocking your view of the kitchen and yanking you out of your trance. You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Maybe youâre being dramatic â but Mark wonât judge. He knows. âThat bad, huh?âÂ
âShut the fuck up.â You mumble into your palms, relaxing slightly as Mark wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying your face in his chest and lightly swaying you from side to side.Â
âAwh câmon⌠youâre good.â Mark shakes you playfully, helping your shoulders loosen. âItâs okay to be jealous.â He lowers his voice so only you can hear him.Â
âThis is not helping you with the babes, Iâm sorry.â You wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying the comfort of your friendâs embrace â and you really shouldnât â but you sneak a glance over his shoulder. Jeno is still there, the girl still perched between his legs, still talking. But his eyes are very clearly on you. Expression neutral, as always, never giving anything away. Yet if you were to guess, he looks conflicted â maybe a little annoyed.Â
Fuck this. You refuse to stare, burying your face deeper into Markâs neck instead.Â
âAre you two planning on fucking tonight?â A boyish voice interrupts the moment. Pulling back, you see a boy standing next to you. You recognise him â always with Jeno or some girl youâd assume is his girlfriend. And heâs in your stupid stats class, too.Â
âDude, have some decorum.â Mark protests, keeping one arm around your shoulders, shaking you playfully. âY/N, this is Haechan. Haechan, this is Y/N.âÂ
âHi, Y/N. Iâve heard a lot about you.â Weird, you decide.Â
âUmm I donât think IââÂ
âNo time for that. Beer pong. Me and my girl versus you two. In or out?â Haechan cuts you off, no hesitation. As much as his energy overwhelms you, a game that involves alcohol sounds like a perfect distraction.Â
Easy. Thatâs what beating Haechan and his girlfriend was. Too easy. And youâre currently obliterating Chenle and this boy, Renjun, who youâre pretty sure is Jenoâs housemate.Â
You make the last shot. In. Some boys around the table cheer, some point fingers at the losing team, laughing at them.Â
âLetâs fucking go!â Mark grabs your shoulders from behind, shaking you and you canât help but laugh at his dramatics.Â
âYou just got lucky.â Haechan complains loudly.Â
âYou canât get lucky twice.â You point out as you rearrange the cups back to a perfect pyramid shape.Â
âYouâre just a sore loser, dude.â Mark throws the ping pong ball at the weird boy, sticking his tongue out and Haechan looks like heâs had an epiphany.Â
âMaybe you should play against our champions.â He says with a glint of mischief written all over his face.Â
âNah, Iâm-âÂ
âSomeone get Jeno and Jaemin.â Haechan interrupts you for the second time tonight and now heâs seriously starting to annoy you.Â
âSomeone else can take my spot.â You say nonchalantly as you place the last cup at the top of the pyramid.Â
âOh, grow up.â Haechan challenges again.Â
âGet off my back. Respectfully.âÂ
âDidnât think youâd be boring. Respectfully.â Heâs hinting at something you canât quite decipher, but somehow you know Jeno has something to do with it.Â
âThe fuck is that supposed to mean?â You raise your voice a few decibels as you step closer to the annoying boy.Â
âIâm just saying.â He shrugs, like his words didnât hold some cryptic meaning.Â
âCare to elaborate?â You stand in front of him, arms crossing over your chest expectantly, eyebrow raising and he smirks. As though getting on your nerves is his newfound hobby. Seriously, what is this dudeâs problem?Â
âOh, you know, just that youâre a-âÂ
âYooo okay, letâs break it off.â Jenoâs voice cuts in before his friend can finish his sentence and suddenly, youâre being dragged away from the scene and the people that have gathered around without you noticing. You try to stand your ground, pulling away from the hand around your elbow and before you can approach smug Haechan again, Jeno stands in front of you.Â
âWalk away. Right now. Please.â His expression is unreadable, but heâs definitely not pleased. You can figure that much out.Â
âWhatâs it to you?â You challenge, suspicious of his involvement.Â
His eyes close for a second, jaw clenching, as though heâs collecting himself and Haechanâs voice cuts through again. âYeah, Jen-Jen, whatâs it to you?âÂ
Jeno just steps closer to you, shielding you from his friendâs antics and before you have time to react, heâs dragging you away again. Hand tight around your wrist and you let him. Not before you look back, only to find Haechan wiggling his fingers at you in a playful wave and you canât help but flip him off. His laugh is loud and if it werenât for Jeno, the alcohol in your system would have prompted you to start a fight. How can someone be so irritating?Â
Once youâre out in the back garden, you force your arm out of Jenoâs hold. Â
âChill.â His instruction makes your blood boil.Â
âWhat the fuck!â You shout loud enough to get some heads turning, interrupting their smoking sessions. Jeno just chuckles, index and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose. âWhatâs so funny?â Youâre quieter now but you make sure to keep the cold tone on.Â
âAre you a child?â He asks with an amused smile as he leans his weight against the wall and if you werenât so pissed off, youâd swoon at how good he looks right now.Â
âHe started it.âÂ
âYeah, well, heâs a child.â Jeno points out like itâs a fact you should be aware of. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie and you realise how chilly it actually is.Â
âIâm assuming he knows me as the slut who slept with his friend just to get over her ex.â You move to lean against the wall next to him and he snorts at your comment.Â
âYou know I donât slut shame.â He says casually, his breath visible in the cold air. âBesides, is that what that was?â Heâs looking down at his shoes as he kicks some pebbles into the grass. âRebound sex?âÂ
âYou know it wasnât.âÂ
âSo, why do you care about what Haechan thinks?âÂ
âCause heâs your friend.âÂ
âHeâs also a wind up.â Jeno turns his head to look down at you. âAnd you let him get to you.âÂ
âHeâs fucking annoying is what he is.â You scan the garden as you rest your hands behind your back, preventing the concrete from digging into your ass.Â
âYeah, heâs for the thick skinned.â He says it with fondness, and it baffles you. âHis girlfriend tolerates him just fine, so he must be doing something right.âÂ
âAn unsolvable mystery.â You mumble and Jeno chuckles, though you werenât really joking.Â
Thereâs a pause. A comfortable silence between you, which in that moment you really appreciate.Â
âDidnât know you were that good at beer pong.â Jeno elbows your side playfully and you almost smile, but then you remember that the only reason you decided to play was to distract yourself from him and the girl who was feeling him up.Â
âSurprised you even saw that.â Itâs meant to be teasing, light-hearted. Itâs anything but that.Â
âWhyâs that?â His tone is devoid of any playfulness now.Â
âYou just looked...busy.â You refuse to look at him but you feel his stare on your side profile. You feel hot all of a sudden. Why canât you just keep your mouth shut?Â
âSo?âÂ
âSo, nothing. Just an observation.â You try your best to stay calm, but your pulse has increased significantly and you feel like throwing up. Jenoâs scoff is difficult to ignore.Â
âI donât get you, Y/N.â Youâre still adamantly looking anywhere else but at him, but you can imagine his expression. Heâs definitely doing that thing he does with his eyebrows when heâs confused. The one that makes him look like a puppy. And you hate yourself. âWhy do you care?âÂ
âI donât.â You defend quickly.Â
âRight.âÂ
âWhat do you want from me, Jeno?â You close your eyes in exasperation.Â
âNo. What do you want?â He moves to stand in front of you now, giving you no option but to look at him. âYou fucking rejected me. You donât get to be jealous. So why am in the wrong here?âÂ
God, youâre such an idiot.Â
âWhat exactly did I reject?âÂ
âWhat?â Genuine confusion painted all over his face.Â
âWhat did you expect? That weâd keep fucking and live happily ever after? Iâm sorry, I donât do that shit. I canât.â Words leave before thought; regret floods instantly. You expect him to argue back, to shout, to react, but his next words hurt you even more.Â
âYeah, no, Iâm not doing this.â He shakes his head in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping.Â
âNot doing what?âÂ
âIâm not gonna argue with you, when youâve already come to your conclusions.âÂ
âSo, Iâm wrong then? Did you want a relationship with me? Did you wanna take me to bruch? Buy me flowers? Introduce me to your parents?â Silence. âYou said it yourself. You were horny and I happened to be there. A girl doesnât give you what you want and you act like your heart is broken. Boo-hoo, wah-wah, grow the fuck up.âÂ
For the first time in the four months youâve known the boy in front of you, his face is not stoic. He looks enraged, disgusted even. âYouâre a fucking joke, Y/N.âÂ
You donât even know what can beat that. Heâs right.Â
He steps closer and you wish you werenât backed up against the wall. Heâs too close. âI donât know who fucking hurt you, and I donât give shit quite frankly. What I do know is Iâm not a punching bag and I donât like games.âÂ
âIâm not playing a game.âÂ
âNo?â His head tilts.Â
âNo.â Your voice comes out weak. Heâs suffocating you and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Your stomach heavy.Â
âYou say you donât want me. Then you flirt with me every chance you get. You get moody whenever a girlâs name pops up on my phone. You hate when my attention isnât on you. You get jealous. You make petty comments. You canât even look at me right now. Should I go on?âÂ
Are you really that obvious? If you had balls, heâd have you by them.Â
âI might fuck around, but at least Iâm honest about what I want.â His index and middle finger poke you on the chest, right in the middle and he might as well carve your heart out at this point. âYouâre the game player here. Not me.â He says quietly, but the words echo loudly in your head.Â
You blink and thereâs wetness dripping down your cheek and the only thing you can do is nod, eyes avoiding his again, the stamp on his hoodie a lot more interesting, but blurry as another tear escapes. Itâs not sadness. Itâs anger. Youâre angry with yourself mostly, but also him. Because he confuses you. Because he makes you feel vulnerable. Because he makes your heart do things it shouldnât. And he scares you. So much. The way he grounds you scares you. The way he always talks sense scares you. The way he understands you scares you. The way he sees you...it scares you.Â
âWhy are you crying?â Thereâs no malice laced with his words, just worry. A genuine question. Whispered.Â
âI wanna go home.â If misery could be pictured, it would be you. You sound like a spoilt child that didnât get their favourite toy on Christmas day.Â
âOkay.â He doesnât move and neither do you. You can feel his eyes on your face and you canât help but look into them when his thumb wipes the tears off your cheek. His palm feels warm on your cold skin, soothing your heart and you wish you could bury your whole being in it. You just hide your face in it for now.Â
âI donât like you when youâre mean.â You sniffle a little, half aware that heâs stepped closer now. His familiar clean scent engulfs you and you sigh in contentment. Your hands instinctively grab onto each side of his hoodie pocket and when you look up at him, you can tell heâs trying to fight off a smile. His features are on the softer side again, puppy-like. The fairy lights reflect on his eyes, illuminating tiny little star-like specks.Â
âDonât make me act mean then.â His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Your pride wants you to push him away, but for some reason you let him touch you. You also let your forehead rest on his sternum, and you let his arms wrap around your shoulders, hugging you into him, into his warmth. The embrace is very similar to the one Mark gave you earlier, but so different in so many ways. It calms you like no other hug ever could. Like no one could ever compare. And maybe no one can.Â
âAre you still mad?â Your question is muffled by the fabric of his jumper, cheek squished against his chest, eyes closed as you bask in the proximity.Â
âMhm.â He answers a little too quickly for your liking, but his arms tighten a little more around you and you canât fight off the tiny smile that threatens to take over your face.Â
âDo you still like me?â You feel him tense just then and your arms wrap around his middle in fear of him pulling away.Â
âI mean...â You feel his chest move as he exhales loudly, his chin rests on your head. âI donât hate you.âÂ
Itâs two days later that you decide to face the problem that is Lee Jeno. A normal late Sunday afternoon. Youâve done your shopping for the week, gone over some lecture notes, caught up on all your uni emails, procrastinated, even gone on a run to convince yourself that you didnât just sit around all day. You send the text before you can talk yourself out of it, and when 15 minutes go by without a response, you start to regret it.Â
Are you busy tonight?Â
The screen laughs in your face each time you check your phone and see no new notification. Why did you decide to act brave tonight? Why are you so stupid? Of course heâs busy. Heâs probably in bed with that Yuna girl, altering her brain chemistry like he did yours. You wonder if he cuddles all the girls he sleeps with like he cuddled you. All careful and possessive.Â
Youâre about to change into your pyjamas when you hear it.Â
Ding.Â
Jeno: just got back from the gymÂ
Jeno: need a shower and then i can be freeÂ
Jeno: how come?Â
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Do you reply now, or should you give it some time? Make him wait like he made you wait? NO. No games. He said it himself.Â
You: come to mine?Â
You: gigi and mark are outÂ
You: we can talkÂ
You: you wantÂ
You: *ifÂ
Your fingers are shaking so much you forgo typing a whole word and you can only hope heâs not laughing at you when you send the correction. Five long minutes go by before he replies again.Â
Jeno: i wantÂ
Jeno: gimme 30 minsÂ
You snort at the text mocking your typo. Of course he wonât pass an opportunity to tease you. He definitely knows youâre shitting bricks.Â
You react with a thumbs up before you start pacing around your apartment, looking for things to do until he arrives.Â
First you wash up the few forgotten mugs in the kitchen sink. Then you reorganise the cereal boxes that Giselle and Mark always mess up.Â
He texts you a simple omw when youâre contemplating whether you should put on jeans or keep your joggers on. You decide on the latter. No need to try hard.Â
He knocks when youâve just finished brushing your teeth for the second consecutive time, which youâre starting to regret because your gums sting now.Â
You take a deep breath before opening the door and when you do, heâs standing right there, hands in his pockets, looking effortlessly cool as ever. His signature look. Attire matches yours: big hoodie and baggy joggers, emitting comfort and softness.Â
His eyes scan you like yours scan him. Head to toe. âCute socks.â He nods in approval and when you look down at your feet, you realise youâre wearing fuzzy Christmas socks with little mistletoes on them. Great. âSwear Christmas was like a month ago.âÂ
âTheyâre warm.â You step aside to let him in, and he quickly takes his shoes and jacket off by the door before trailing toward the living room area. You observe him as he carefully places his thick jacket on the back of the sofa. He inspects the room like heâs never been in your apartment before. It feels oddly domestic when heâs not here for a tutoring session.Â
You set your phone on silent and quickly notice the time. Apart from the fact that heâs five minutes early, it dawns on you that itâs dinner time.Â
âYou hungry?â The words slip before you can stop them, and he swiftly turns around to look at you. Youâre still leaning against the door as he plops down on the sofa armrest.Â
âI could eat.â He shrugs with a lopsided smile. He looks so boyfriend-coded like this. So warm and soft. Just lounging around your living room. âUnless youâre cooking.â His eyes are full of mischief, smile cheeky.Â
âI mean, I was thinking of ordering, but you can starve if youâre gonna insult me in my own home.âÂ
He ends up placing the order. Something about a deal on his Deliveroo, but you know he just didnât want you paying. Just like when he never lets you pay for your coffee but complains when you occasionally pay for his.Â
Heâs munching on a dumpling when youâve run out of things to talk about. Youâve covered the hangover you were both nursing the day before, his gym session and how he got hit on by a guy, your running session and how you got drenched by the rain, the stats chapter youâll be entering next week, the fact that you both have a seminar tomorrow morning, the fact that you might skip. You talk about anything and everything but what you both really want to talk about.Â
âDid you stay long on Friday after I left?â You ask casually as you blow on your spring roll to help cool it down.Â
He shakes his head. âNah. You left at the right time. It was dead after.â He drops his chopsticks on his plate and grabs a napkin for his hands.Â
âWhat about the girl you were with?â It slips. But at least it doesnât sound malicious. Your eyes meet for half a second and you almost laugh at the side-eye he gives you.Â
âStill not over that?â He leans back on the sofa, getting more comfortable, legs spreading a little as he sips on his water.Â
âItâs just a question. Donât deep it.â You take a sip of your own water before turning your body completely toward him, legs criss-crossing, arm resting on the back of the sofa.Â
He pulls his hood up as he slides a little further down the cushions, almost as though youâve put him on the spot and heâs trying to hide. You find it amusing. âNothing happened if thatâs what youâre asking.â No glance toward you still; heâs too busy trying to stabilize the half-empty water bottle on his stomach and only when he fails for the third time does he look at you.Â
âWhy?âÂ
He shrugs. âWasnât really my type.âÂ
You nod. âDidnât realize you had one of those.â You twirl one of your rings with your thumb. You feel nervous suddenly but choose to push your sarcasm forward.Â
He blinks, unamused. âIs this what you wanted to talk about?âÂ
âI judged you.â You say quickly, refusing to back down now. His eyebrows tense a little, emitting confusion for just a second. âAnd Iâm sorry.â You chew on the inside of your cheek as you wait for a response.Â
He nods just once before averting his attention to the bottle again. âYouâre not the first or the last person to do that.âÂ
âI have trouble seeing the good in people.â You avert your eyes to the loose thread on your sleeve. Itâs difficult staying afloat when he looks at you the way he always does. Like youâre easy to read.Â
âYeah, I gathered that.â You detect a smile in his tone and you hate that you donât have to see it to know itâs there. You expect him to ask why. He doesnât; you sense his contemplative eyes on you still. A beat of silence passes and you find yourself trapped in it, struggling to utter more words. He helps with the worst possible question. âWhy did you sleep with me, Y/N?âÂ
âDonât say it like that.â You let out a humourless laugh.Â
âLike what?â Thereâs expectancy in his voice. His restraint is slowly breaking.Â
âLike I lured you in or something.â You pull the loose thread harder. He lets out a short laugh. It sounds accidental.Â
âJust answer the question.â He taps on the plastic bottle as if to get your attention. âAnd look at me.â His eyebrows lift momentarily when you do, like a greeting. The situation seems awfully comicalâor maybe itâs the fact that you struggle to stay serious in serious situations. He mirrors your barely-there smile regardless.Â
âThereâs not just a single reason.â You canât be more honest than that.Â
âOkay, so name three.â He holds his thumb, index, and middle finger up, wiggling them as he waits for you to start listing. âGo on.â He nods when he senses your hesitation.Â
You sigh dramatically as you look around the room, like the answers are hidden in the furniture. âI guess youâre attractive.âÂ
âThat doesnât count. I want profound stuff.âÂ
You scoff. âSince when?â You raise an eyebrow and his pointed look makes you back down, his three fingers waving slightly, demanding.Â
âYou made me feel comfortable.âÂ
Middle finger down.Â
âI was intrigued.âÂ
Pointer down. He nods again when you pause for too long. It takes everything not to look down, but you donât.Â
âFelt right.âÂ
âAnd now it doesnât?â Heâs quick. No hesitation. No whys and hows. He sits up and turns to look at you properly, mirroring your position. One arm drapes over the back of the sofa while the other holds onto the water bottle still, one leg folded under him, the other hanging off the sofa. You like that heâs comfortable in your vicinity; it calms the turmoil inside you.Â
âIt does. Itâs just confusing.â You admit. His eyes look more alive now.Â
âWhatâs so confusing? People fancy each other. They fuck. They either make it a thing or they donât.â For someone who normally reads you in no time, he seems to be struggling now.Â
âJen, this isnât stats. Itâs not that simple.â You smile fondly at his confusion. âBesides, what exactly is this thing we could make it into?â You can almost see the gears spinning in his head. This, he doesnât seem to have an answer for.Â
âThis might sound wild, but I happen to know what dating is.â His widened eyes evoke a laugh out of you. Maybe he did have an answer after all.Â
âYou wanna date me.â You deliver the question in deadpan tone.Â
He tilts his head a little. âWould that be so terrible?âÂ
You purse your lips in thought. Would it? âDo you understand what that entails?â God, you sound so condescending. Like a middle-aged person.Â
âGod forbid we go somewhere other than a cafĂŠ and talk about something other than stats.â The sarcasm in his voice makes you roll your eyes. Mostly because it makes him sound hot. You almost flinch when he shuffles closer, his knee touching yours. He drops the bottle heâs been fiddling with somewhere behind him and his fingers find yours in a heartbeat. Like he didnât even think about it. Like itâs reflex.Â
âThatâs not what I mean.â You know he knows, but you say it anyway. Your eyes find your hand in his, thumb stroking your knuckles gently before gliding over a ring, finding a new toy to fiddle with.Â
âIâll be good to you.â You bring your gaze to his face. He looks almost shy, eyes on your hands and if the lighting were stronger, you might have been able to spot the blush on his cheeks better. You imagine it for now. âI donât expect you to trust me from the get-go.â He chews on his bottom lip for a second. âBut maybeâ you knowâmaybe eventually...â He looks up, scanning your face for a reaction, which you try tremendously hard not to give because you just happen to love a pathetic man. Heâs unsure, but heâs trying. Youâll give him that.Â
âAsk me properly.â You squeeze his fingers once and he has the cutest look of hope on his face.Â
âYouâre going on a date with me.âÂ
âI said askââÂ
âIâm telling you.â He tugs on your arm playfully and you canât help but gleam at his unusually playful antics.Â
âAlright.âÂ
âCool.âÂ
âNow get out of my house.âÂ
âSorry?â Genuine surprise takes over his features; eyebrows furrowed to the maximum, eyes wide.Â
âYouâre not staying the night.â You pat his thigh as you get up and start picking up the takeout boxes lying scattered on your coffee table.Â
âWhy not?â He sounds almost offended. You laugh quietly as you walk into the kitchen.Â
âYouâre just not.â He hasnât moved from his spot on the sofa when you look back at him.Â
âI wonât try anything.âÂ
Your pointed look forces the corners of his mouth to curl into a mischievous smile. âIâll just cuddle you.âÂ
âNext joke.âÂ
âYou really think Iâm not capable of keeping it in my pants?â You donât even bother responding to his silly question.Â
When you approach him again, you stand in front of him and with the way he looks up at you, it takes a lot to not just get on your knees for him.Â
âItâs not you Iâm worried about.â You admit, hinting at something he catches on quickly, his pleased smile difficult to miss.Â
He moves closer, warm hands engulfing the backs of your knees, his hood dropping as he cranes his neck to gaze up at you with pretty eyes. He looks almost innocent like this. So handsome. âAt least give me a kiss.âÂ
Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, looking for support as he pulls you closer, between his spread legs. This screams anything but innocent, and the way he nuzzles his face against your tummy has your breath hitching. You bury a hand in his hair, nails lightly scratching as he breathes you in.Â
âJust one, yeah?â Your quiet offer makes him look up again, eyes finding yours in an instant, chin resting on your lower abdomen. Who knew Lee Jeno could look so submissive and sexy at the same time.Â
âJust one. And Iâll fuck off before you know it.â You should tease him. Make him beg. But he looks too good for that. Too insatiable. And you can always make him beg another day.Â
You do exactly what you said you wouldnât do. You get on your knees, between his spread ones, and now itâs you that has to look up at him. Your hands find his strong thighs and the thought that enters your mind isnât a pleasant one. Envy flickers for a moment, remembering the girl from two nights ago, standing between his legs in a very similar position. But then you see how he looks at you and envy becomes want. He didnât look at her like that, nowhere near.Â
His hands fall on top of yours before trailing up your arms and you drag your knees across the carpet to get closer. Your noses touch when his palms engulf each side of your neck, thumbs tracing your jawline, fingers reaching your nape, his touch making your knees feel weak as your heart beats faster, and youâre worried he can feel it through your pulse points.Â
âYou know,â His top lip grazes your bottom one lightly and you canât help but bite onto the spot he touched. âYouâre doing a bit too much for just one kiss.âÂ
âYou either want it, or you donât.â You match his low tone; afraid youâll break the trance you both seem to be in, your fingers lightly squeezing his thigh muscles in encouragement.Â
You see his smirk and then you donât. Your eyes drop shut the second his mouth is on yours, claiming. His palms feel warm on your cheeks, his lips soft on yours but demanding, thighs tensing under your wandering hands, and you feel dizzy as you let him tilt your head as he pleases, let his tongue in your mouth, let him taste you. Itâs wet and itâs loud and itâs hot, the neurons in your brain already useless.Â
You really should pull away, not give in to him so easily, but one hand is in your hair now, tugging, the other around your throat, gentle but assertive, and the whimper you let out is embarrassing. Your hands clench around the fabric of his joggers; your pussy around nothing, and thatâs when you abruptly push him away, hands on his firm chest. You think your ears deceive you, but you swear Lee Jeno just whined. A needy, pathetic whine. So beautiful. It makes something coil in your chest, a pulse of heat you didnât expect, a reminder of just how much power he has over you in a single sound.Â
His back is against the sofa cushions now, and he looks defeated, chest visibly moving. âYouâre a fucking menace.âÂ
You laugh a little too loudly at how out of breath he sounds, as though he didnât just have full control of that kiss. His lips are shiny, a darker shade of their usual pink, and you lick at yours, realizing they must be just as wet. You can still taste him, and your walls flutter around emptiness again. Youâre tempted to look down and check whether heâs also affected, but you withhold. That would make things so much worse.Â
âI promised one kiss. I gave it to you.â You pat his thighs gently, and his hands catch yours again, fingers interlocking this time. Itâs your heart that flutters this time.Â
Jeno has always known youâre trouble. Heâs always pitied the guy youâll end up withâor anyone who falls for you. Not because youâre not a catch, but because he views you as someone hard to say no to. And now⌠heâs exactly the kind of guy he pities. Heâs never thought of himself as a weak man. But here he is, walking you home after your regular Tuesday session, pretending heâs listening to your rant about some professor who hates you and struggling not to make his fascination obvious. Because he really is fascinatedâby the way you move your hands, the way you furrow your eyebrows in frustration, the way you swear a little too much when youâre stressed, and the way you say âwhat the fuck,â because what the fuck is wrong with him?Â
He canât stop thinking about how adorable you looked earlier when you drew a Venn diagram correctly, how your eyes lit up when you got his validation, how you gasped when the only thing he said was âgood job.â Not because he has some weird claim on you, but because he likes how determined you are to do well. And he likes that heâs helping you. But most of all, he likes that youâre succeeding. Jeno is positive you donât even need his help to pass the module anymore, but he canât bring himself to tell you that just yetâsimply because he likes that you want his help.Â
Itâs been two days since that obliterating kiss, and Jeno keeps pondering. You. How you got on your knees. How you touched him. How you sounded. How easily you ruined him with just one kiss. He knows heâs already slept with you, but for some reason, that kiss beats any other moment heâs had with you. It was too good. Too much. And oh, what he would give to experience that again.Â
âYou free this Friday?â The question slips mid-thought, and the silence that follows makes him turn his head to look at you. He struggles not to laugh at your dumbfounded expression, pursing his lips to control the smile that threatens to take over his face.Â
âYou werenât listening just now, were you?â You scold, though the tone of amusement is still evident.Â
âNah. Not really.â He blatantly admits, getting a kick out of annoying you.Â
âDickhead.â You huff in the cutest way possible.Â
âFriday.â He repeats stubbornly as youâre nearing your building. âFree or not?âÂ
âWhat exactly am I walking into here?â You ask carefully, eyes narrowing in suspicion.Â
âAn orgy.âÂ
âYeah, alright, get me involved.â Your bored tone shouldnât make him smile.Â
He sighs in annoyance, because thereâs no way you donât know what heâs hinting at. âI wanna take you out, you pleb.âÂ
âPleb?âÂ
He groans dramatically. âOh my godââÂ
âIâm actually not.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âIâm not free on Friday. I promised Gigi Iâd do movie night.â No way. Fuck that. Thereâs no way heâs asking you out and youâre rejecting him.Â
âYou serious? Youâre blowing me off for some movie night?â He knows he should tone it down. Heâs sounding hurt, and itâs not that deep. It shouldnât be.Â
âIâm not blowing you offââÂ
âYou so are. Royally.â He canât help but feel a little defeated. Heâs never winning with you.Â
âI can do Saturday.â You say with a hopeful tone, and Jeno feels some relief at the fact that youâre not entirely rejecting him.Â
âI said Iâd go to this stupid party on Saturday.â He grumbles. He doesnât even want to go, but youâre not willing to cancel your plans for him. So why should he?Â
âRight, well⌠weâll have to do next week then.â The disappointment in your voice makes his heart jump and his stomach clench. Why do you keep doing that? Until now, it was his head. Now, youâre messing with his heart and stomach too? Itâs unfair.Â
âWhy donât you come with me?â He offers, hoping it doesnât make him seem weak. Although he knows thatâs exactly what he isâa weak, needy, pathetic man. For you.Â
âTo your stupid party?â You almost sound offended, and now he regrets even asking.Â
âYeah.â He sighs as you both come to a halt outside your building. Itâs dark already, and the streetlights reflect prettily on your face, accentuating your features. Your nose is a little red from the cold, and youâre in thought, teeth catching your bottom lip as you consider his invitation.Â
âThatâs not really taking me out though, is it?â You try shyly. You never tiptoe around things. And Jeno hates that he loves that.Â
âI just want to spend time with you, Y/N.â He attempts to lower his guard a little but realizes how awfully intimate his words sound. Oh well. âWe can show face for a bit, and then we can just fuck off if itâs boring, go somewhere else.âÂ
âWhere?âÂ
âDisneyland.â He deadpans again, trying to put on the fakest smile he can, but unintentionally, it transforms into a genuine one. He blames the cute way you roll your eyes at him. So unamused.Â
âWow, youâre on a roll today. How will I ever recover from this laughter?â You sound bored, but he sees how hard youâre trying to hold back your smile.Â
âGod, youâre annoying.â And heâs not lying. You are so fucking annoying. And so fucking pretty. He blames the streetlights. And his stupid heart.Â
You outright laugh at his exasperation, and Jeno finds himself in a predicament. He could ignore you, move on with the conversation, or he could shut you up. Itâs an easy decision.Â
The cute sound of surprise you let out when his lips crash onto yours is imprinted on his brain, and so is your soft touch on his chest, and so is the way you kiss him back, matching his eagerness, and so is your taste, and so is the way your body molds into his. It all just fits perfectly. You fit perfectly.Â
Your nose feels cold against his cheek, but the back of your neck feels hot against his frosty fingers, and he wonders when it became such a normal thing for him to notice details like that. A kiss is a kiss. There shouldnât be any science behind it. Thatâs what he always thought. Until that night you sat with him on the carpet at the foot of his bed.Â
A wet smooching sound echoes in the cold of the evening when he pulls away, and he canât fight his smile seeing how you lean closer, chasing after his lips.Â
âCome.â He whispers, both your breaths visible.Â
âHuh?â You sound lost, blinking quickly as though adjusting back to reality. Did he just kiss you, stupid?Â
âOn Saturday. Come with me.â He sounds like heâs begging now, and he hates it. Thatâs what itâs come to.Â
He trails his hands down your arms, over your thick jacket, and the bashful expression on your face makes his pulse fasten as he threads his fingers through yours.Â
âOkay. Iâll come.â Success.Â
âGood.â He leans down, leaving another chaste kiss on your lips before he can chicken out, and then, as youâre about to speak, heâs walking away.Â
âDude, what thââÂ
âYou better have that mock test ready for Thursday!â He shouts over his shoulder, and he wishes his resolve was stronger, but he canât fight the need to look back. And the confusion on your cute face is so worth it.Â
There you are. A few feet away from him, in this crowded space, conversing with some girls heâs never met before. So confident, carrying yourself so gracefully, your laugh audible and sweet. So sweet, so intoxicating, so heart-wrenching.Â
He brought you here. And for some reason, he expected you to not leave his side; to crowd him, to be needy and demand his attention. As always, he was mistaken. He should know by now, youâre not like most girls heâs associated himself with. But heâs a fool. A fool who keeps misjudging you and putting you in the same basket as everyone else.Â
And there you always are. Proving him wrong every single time.Â
âWhatâs with the long face?â Haechanâs voice cuts through Jenoâs trail of thought.Â
âNo long face.â Jeno quickly dismisses the accusation. âJust thinking.âÂ
âThinking at a party? You must be in serious trouble.â As much of a smart-ass as his friend can be, heâs got the tendency of being right most of the time. And just like now, heâs always smug about it, the irritating smirk on his face proof.Â
âFuck off.â Jeno mutters, always harmless. âDonât you have a girlfriend to bless with your annoying-ass face?âÂ
âAnd bless her I shall.â Haechan sings, making Jeno snort at his silliness. âQuit yearning and just go talk to her, you dumb-ass bitch. You look like youâve seen a litter of dead puppies.â Haechan whispers aggressively as he walks away swiftly, before Jeno can have the pleasure of shoving him.Â
âWet wipe.â Jeno curses under his breath as he watches his friend lovingly wrap his arms around his girlfriend, his face nuzzling into her neck as she smiles bright. Itâs sweet and itâs disgusting, and the undeniable feeling of envy fills Jeno. Heâs envious of them both. Because as disgusting as they can be, theyâre happy. And they donât fail to remind him every fucking second.Â
When Jeno redirects his vision to you, heâs met with your eyes, and you shatter him with the sweetest smile youâve ever given him. And there goes his poor heart again. His lips move on their own, returning the gesture without permission, and when you extend your hand in his direction, wordlessly asking him to join you, there goes his stomach. His legs seem to work on their own, because in a few seconds, heâs pushing himself off the wall, crossing the room, and in a few more, Jenoâs got your hand in his.Â
âHey.â You greet quietly, with a small squeeze around his fingers.Â
âHey, yourself.â He instinctively pulls you closer into his side and you smile wider, looking down bashfully, the group you were chatting with long forgotten behind you.Â
âHaving fun?â You seem genuinely interested, and for some reason, Jeno feels weak. Words donât come easily in that moment, so he just shrugs, nose scrunching a little. âYou?âÂ
âEh, Iâm too sober.â The way you wrap both arms around his has him in a chokehold, and Jeno looks around at the chaos of the party, then back down at you.Â
âWanna get out of here?â He asks, relieved that your eyes light up with hope.Â
âDisneyland?â You tease, a tiny smirk adorning your face. Jeno chews on his bottom lip to prevent his own smile.Â
Jenoâs place is relatively tidy compared to last time you were there. Some books are scattered here and there, a plant struggling to stay alive in the corner, a used-up mug on the coffee table. Though very evident that itâs a boysâ house, you can smell the laundry detergent. Itâs messy but clean, and for some reason, that makes you feel a sense of warmth.Â
âNot as bad as I thought it would be.â You twirl your finger in the air, gesturing at the space as you walk further inside the living room.Â
He snorts as he takes off his shoes, placing them next to yours. âDid you expect a crack den?âÂ
âSure looked like one last time.â You stand in front of the bookshelves, scanning all the titles theyâve collected. âIâm assuming these arenât all yours.âÂ
âAnd why would you assume that?â Heâs standing a lot closer than you thought; you can almost feel his body heat seeping through your thick jumper.Â
âDunno.â You stay put, refusing to turn around and look at him. âYou donât strike me as much of a reader.âÂ
He lets out a short laugh, his breath hitting the back of your neck. Oh, heâs closeâclose.Â
âAnd what do I strike you as?â His fingers make contact with the back of your hand, lightly tracing until his index hooks around your pinky. The gesture feels a lot more intimate than it should, and even though itâs the least sexual thing anyone could do, you feel yourself getting hot.Â
âAs someone who reads because they should, not because they want to.âÂ
âWow.â His whisper hits your ear as his thumb fumbles gently with the ring youâve got on your pinky. âYouâve got me all figured out, havenât you?âÂ
âNot really, no.â Your breath hitches slightly as he wraps his other arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him. His chest feels hard against your back, and his breathing is definitely a lot more stable than yours, but his heartbeat doesnât match his calmness. Itâs oddly comforting.Â
He doesnât stall when you turn around. His lips instantly find yours. No teasing, no hesitation.Â
Heâs everywhere.Â
You feel him everywhere, and your heart hurts from the intensity. From how gentle he is. From how slow he kisses you compared to all the other times.Â
Youâre worried he can feel the heat radiating off your skin when his hand cradles your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone so delicately you feel hysterical. The whimper you let out seems to encourage him as he tilts his head a little, deepening the kiss, and you canât help but part your lips more, desperate to taste him.Â
Your hands slither up to his hair, threading through the short strands, and a moan escapes from your throat when he pushes you into the bookshelf, his tongue obscenely licking into your mouth, tangling with yours in a wet mess.Â
âYou hungry?â He mutters into the kiss, clearly with no intention of pulling away, but your arms circle his neck, holding him closerâjust in case he made the unacceptable choice of stopping.Â
âMm-mm.â Your refusal vibrates between your mouths as you kiss him harder, his uncoordinated breathing egging you on as you walk him backward, blindly leading your tangled bodies to the sofa.Â
âThirsty?â Heâs smiling as he lets you guide him, his hands grabbing onto your hips, refusing to put space between your bodies.Â
âNo.â You clumsily stumble over your feet, and his arms around you help you regain your balance, his light chuckle hitting you on the lips, breath hot against you, as he harshly lands on the sofa cushions, eagerly helping you straddle him as though being apart from you is unfathomable.Â
âGuessing youâre not tired either.â He barely gets to finish the sentence before a grunt leaves him; your fingers pulling harshly at his hair as you shamelessly shove your tongue in his mouth, easily shutting him up. He slumps against the sofa with a sigh against your lips, hands limply resting on your ass as he lets you take control.Â
âWhat about you? You tired?â You break the kiss with a loud, wet smack, your hand around his neck preventing him from trailing after you. You tighten your hold when he attempts to move again, and you revel in the sight of his confused expression. It's almost like a newfound pleasure, like itâs something he didnât know he wanted until now. You can tell by the tensing of his eyebrows, the quick blinking of his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the clawing at your ass cheeks.Â
Heâs never been put in his place before, and it shows.Â
âAnswer me.â You instruct seductively, lips brushing his as you grind down on the very evident erection suffocating in his jeans.Â
âFuckâno. Iâm not fucking tired.â He grits, nostrils flaring in annoyance, and his harsh expression earns a smirk from you as you make sure to press harder on the sides of his neck. A mean laugh tumbles out of you as his resolve breaks, eyes rolling back the second you grind down again, the fabric of your jeans rubbing against your throbbing clit deliciously, but you ignore the pleasure, focusing on how responsive Jenoâs body has suddenly become.Â
He could easily overpower you, take matters into his own hands, ruin you if he wanted to, and that knowledge turns you on a lot more than it should. Because heâs actively choosing to be submissive. Heâs silently asking to be choked, succumbing to the power you didnât know you held over him. Until now.Â
âYouâre kinda pathetic, Jen.â You whisper in his ear, his moan vibrating between your chests as you leave a little kiss on his cheek. âItâs cute.âÂ
âFuck off.âÂ
Youâre not sure if it was meant to come out harsh, but itâs far from it. Itâs whiny and breathless.Â
âThatâs mean.â You coo at him, another soft kiss left on his cheek before a theatrical pout takes place on your lips. âYou promised youâd be good to me.âÂ
âYouâre the one whoâs being mean.â His head turns so he can look at you, arms wrapping tightly around you, and you canât help but loosen your hold around his throat.Â
Heâs blinking slowly, breathing shallowly, and you swear his hazy eyes are going to be the death of you. He looks weak and sweet and so fucked out, and if it werenât for the next words that leave his mouth, you would have held your ground.Â
âI like you.â He whispers. So casual but so lethal at the same time. âA lot.âÂ
You sit up a little, and he follows after you, arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your chest, sighing heavily, making your heart go crazy. He can definitely feel it.Â
âSay something.â His words are muffled against the fabric of your jumper, and you canât tell when exactly you started stroking his hair, both hands softly threading.Â
âI like you too.â You murmur in his hair, inhaling the boyish but sweet smell of his shampoo, and you smile when his shoulders visibly relax.Â
âStay tonight.âÂ
You know what heâs asking, and when he looks up at you, you also know itâs game over.Â
You give him a little nod before leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, his surprised expression making you feel giddy. âIâll stay.âÂ
Heâs stubborn and annoying and cocky at times and heâs annoyingly smart and good with numbers which makes him a good tutor. Heâs nice at times too, and funny and oddly endearing. Heâs also incredibly hot, and cute, even though he hates being called that. Â
But youâve always known those things. Â
What you didnât know is how incredibly and unfairly good he is at giving head. Out of this world good. And as much as you hate it you also canât help but love it. What you love the most, however, is how much he seems to love it.Â
âHoly shit, Jen, slow down.â You pant, thighs shaking in overstimulation, your body trying to comprehend the intense orgasm it just went through, but Jeno doesnât seem to give a flying fuck. Â
âShut up and keep your legs open.â He mutters into your drenched pussy, arousal and spit coating the lower half of his face, the scene before you incriminating as you struggle to do as he says with a pathetic whine. Â
âIâm too sensitive, you psycho.â Your futile attempt to harshly pull at his hair, backfires as he shoves two fingers in your dripping hole, a string of spit landing on your clit, thumb replacing his tongue in harsh circles. His fingers reach deeper than yours ever have, stimulating the sensitive spot inside your walls with ease. Â
âDonât want my tongue? Fine. Youâre taking my fingers.â His hand is thrusting roughly, digits barely pulling out as he creates a vibration-like motion, abusing your g-spot like nobodyâs business. Â
âOh my god!â Your screech is embarrassing, and so is the way your trembling fingers grip his bedsheets. What really is mortifying, though, is how loud your cunt is. The lewd sounds are almost offensive to your dignity, which seems to be out the window by now. You feel too hot, sweat dripping down your temples and you wish you had the energy to take off your top, the intense pleasure clouding all your senses.Â
âJust accept that youâre gonna cum again.â The sweet kiss he leaves on your inner thigh highly contrasts the way heâs violently fucking into your sopping cunt and you canât help but give into it. Because heâs right. Youâre going to cum again. âThere we go, baby, just take it.â Â
âFuck, itâs too much, y-you're too deep.â You cry, asking for a little bit of mercy that doesnât seem likely to come your way. Â
âYouâre dripping though.â His hot breath fans on your centre, free hand pressing into your belly, holding you hostage. âLiterally ruining my sheets.â Â
His humiliating words do something to you, and unfortunately, he seems to notice the way you clench around his fingers, the way your back arches a little more. âThought you didnât like me being mean, baby.âÂ
âShut the fuck up.â Your voice comes out whiny, no threat laced in it whatsoever, and his laugh is sinister, openly mocking your desperate state, pushing you over the edge unexpectedly. âFuck, Iâm cumming.â Â
Your body tenses, chest heaving, walls clamping down on his fingers, forbidding any further movement, but his thumb is relentless, rubbing your poor clit through your high.Â
âShit, baby.â He whispers, the sound barely reaching your buzzing ears. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you reach for anything that can pull back to the surface. Your nails dig into his arm, the one draped over your stomach and he quickly laces his fingers with yours, understanding what you need. âYouâre good. Iâve got you.â He trails gentle kisses up and down your thigh, the action soothing, helping you back to a more coherent state.Â
âI fucking hate you.â You pant. No irritation in your tone, just defeat and deliriousness.Â
He chuckles against your skin, fingers slowly pulling out of your heat. âNo, you donât.â Â
Your hands instinctively caress his hair as he starts dragging your top up your torso, a kiss left on every newly uncovered inch of skin. You help him by sitting up a little, arms raising and then hands finding his face as soon as the garment is off, pulling him in for a slow kiss he so easily gives into. You can feel his grin, and it makes you chuckle softly against his lips but neither of you pulls away. Â
Within seconds, your back arches, making room for his hands as they unclasp your bra and once itâs gone, you eagerly wrap your arms around his neck, craving to feel his skin on yours, sighing at the way your sensitive nipples drag against his warm chest. Â
Itâs quiet and loud at the same time. No words are exchanged as you intimately make out with him. Itâs all heavy breathing, a whimper here and there, the rustling of his sheets, the wet sound of kissing, one of your phonesâ buzzing as neither of you seems to care. Itâs a soft moan of yours that breaks the silence, and then one of his as he slowly grinds his jean-clad cock into your tingling pussy, the material harsh on your hypersensitive clit. Â
His arms cage your head, supporting his weight as he makes room between your bodies for your hands, trembling fingers clumsily unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, your hands blindly shoving the material down, both of you to stubborn to pull away from the sloppy kiss youâve trapped yourselves in. Â
âMmh- just- fuck sake.â You mumble in his mouth and he lets out a small laugh as he reluctantly pushes off you to remove the rest of his clothes hastily. You smile at his erratic movements, relishing in the fact that heâs as needy as you are. Â
His mouth is back on yours within seconds, body finding home between your parted legs, fitting just perfectly and you breathe harshly when his cock prods at your entrance. Â
âDo we need a condom?â He murmurs breathlessly, eyes meeting as his face hovers just inches above yours. You find it cute how he remembers about protection now, when heâs already finished inside you before.  Â
âYouâre clean?â Â
âYeah.â Â
âThen no.âÂ
He nods with a shaky exhale, and you pull his face closer, not being able to stand any space between you. One arm sneaks around his neck, the other circles his shoulder blade, holding onto him as you prepare for the intrusion, craving the stinging sensation you felt last time he entered you. Â
His tip bumps your clit a few times as he rubs the length of his cock between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Â
âSo wet, baby.â It sounds pained and youâre slowly starting to lose any restraint thatâs left in you. Â
âPlease, fuck me.â You whine into the dip of his shoulder, hips twitching, raising to find friction. Â
The head of his cock kisses your entrance, and the second you start to feel the delicious pressure, he slips, finding your clit once again, making you inhale sharply. Youâre so wet, itâs embarrassing.Â
âShit, sorry.â He utters the rushed words as he looks down, between your bodies, one arm propping him above you. Â
âItâs okay, just try again.â You caress the back of his neck softly as you patiently wait for a stretch that doesnât come. Heâs still, breathing heavily as he looks down, forehead dropping to your shoulder and now youâre starting to get concerned. Â
âYou okay?â You ask in confusion, as your hands reach for his face, but he hides in your neck. Â
âIâm- this is fucking embarrassing.â His body is trembling and you have no choice but to wrap your arms around him, still not understanding what heâs going on about. Â
âJen, whatâs wrong?â Â
Did he change his mind or something? Did he just realise heâs not that into you? Or did he just remember heâs got chlamydia? Â
âIâm actually freaking out. What is hap-Â
âIâve gone soft.â Â
Oh. Â
âMy dick is soft.â He rephrases, voice muffled in your neck and you try your best not to laugh at his pained tone, by hiding your face in his shoulder. Donât laugh donât laugh donât laugh. Â
It's pointless. Inevitable. A snort escapes. He tenses. Â
âAre you fucking laughing?â Â
âNo.â Your arms tighten around his shoulders, trapping him, or preventing him from seeing your pursed lips. Â
âI actually fucking hate you.â He exasperates, lips grazing your skin, but he lets his weight slump on you regardless. And you feel it. He really is soft. Â
âAre you nervous?â Youâre not mocking, just asking genuinely as your thumb strokes his temple, nails gently scratching his scalp, trying to offer some comfort through his embarrassment. Â
âWhy would I be nervous?â He defends quickly, stubbornness coating his voice. Â
âChill. Itâs just a question.â Â
âIâm not nervous.â He persists. He really is incapable of lying. Â
âYouâre overthinking then.â You start tracing patterns on his shoulder with your free hand as his breathing becomes more stable. Â
âWhatâs there to overthink? It's sex.â He sighs as your toes tickle the back of his knee, foot slowly caressing his leg. Â
âErectile dysfunction?â You joke and he huffs out a breath in annoyance, tickling your neck, goosebumps raising. You hum in thought, pretending to be in search of other reasons for his little mishap. He shivers as you lazily start scratching up and down his back, your other hand still in his hair, slightly tugging. Â
âMaybe youâre just not that into me then.â A smirk tugs on your lips as he playfully bites down on your shoulder. Â
âYeah.â He nuzzles your jaw. âThat must be it.â He starts kissing along the bone, his hand cradling the other side of your face, urging you to face him and heâs miserably failing to hold his smile back, just like you are. He cutely brushes his nose against yours and your brain malfunctions for a second. Never did you think Lee Jeno would be eskimo kissing you in bed right after he got a limp dick because he got too nervous. Â
But here you are. Â
âYou know,â Your hand caresses his wrist as his hand buries in your hair. âYou can be really cute sometimes.â Your lips find the tip of his nose, and he slightly flinches as the tender gesture, coaxing a giggle out of you that gets interrupted by his hand roughly pulling at your hair and you know your tactic to get him riled up is working. Â
Your whine is muffled by his lips, tongue forcing its way into your mouth like itâs his mission to shut you up and you revel in the dominance he asserts. A big hand wraps around your neck, fingers squeezing a little tighter than you expect, making you feel dizzy as his tongue claims your mouth in the filthiest way possible. Drool smears on your chin and the little twitch you feel on your belly forces a satisfied moan out of you. Â
âThis cute enough for you?â He breathes into your mouth, his hips grinding with force, hardening cock sliding between your wet folds, cunt throbbing with need.Â
âWhatever cutie, just try not to go soft on me again.âÂ
A sarcastic laugh tumbles out of him. âYou trying to piss me off?â Â
âYes.âÂ
âI will literally fuck you into oblivion.â He mumbles in your ear, his teeth trapping the lobe between them before he starts trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck, hand moving to fondle one of your breasts, fingers harshly squeezing, claiming, making you mewl. Â
âPlease, do.â You beg cutely, legs wrapping around his waist, heels pushing him into you more as your hips lift momentarily as you feel a new gush of arousal dripping out of you, smearing between your bodies. You just know itâs a mess down there. Â
Two of his fingers find your entrance, swirling through the wetness before he abruptly shoves them in to stretch you out again and before you have time to adjust, two become three, stretching your tight hole to the max. Your moans are unrecognisable, downright pornographic and you canât imagine how good his cock is going to feel. Youâre so horny, you feel like youâre going to pass out.Â
âJen- oh fuck- please just put it in.â Your hands grab his face, forcing his eyes onto yours, showing him how blinded with desperation you are. You really want him. And he seems to share the same sentiment. His dilated pupils show you that much. Â
He kisses you stupid again, tongue tasting you hungrily as he fucks his fingers into you deep and slow a few more times and then emptiness. He kisses you harder when you whine in protest, but itâs the fat head of his cock prodding at your hole that really shuts you up and this time he doesnât slip out. This time you feel the sting you so impatiently were craving. Â
Your walls flutter around him, but they welcome his thick length greedily, sucking him as he sinks in slowly. Â
âOh my god.â He utters breathlessly as his pubic bone finds yours, hips grinding to help you both get used to the stimulation, mouth dropping open against yours as you bite down on his lip, not caring if your draw blood because it all just feels divine. Â
âMove.â You plead, letting your legs spread wide for him, your hands burying in his hair as you bring his lips to your again, needing him closer. Â
âStop clenching so hard. Feels like youâre pushing me out.â He whispers softly, following up with a slow kiss, his hand caressing your thigh as he holds himself up on one forearm by your head, thumb stroking your temple gingerly and you instantly feel yourself relax a little. Â
âSorry.â You murmur into the kiss, feeling him smile against you, your stomach doing that thing it always does when he does the most insignificant things.Â
He finally starts moving, slow and deep, cock stimulating every nerve ending in your walls and youâre so sensitive you feel every ridge, every vein, the slight curve of his length and the way he thrusts a little upwards doing wonders to that sweet spot deep inside you. Â
He leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek before letting his head drop, face burying in your neck, hot breaths hitting your skin deliciously as you both lose yourselves to the consuming pleasure. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, quiet moans filling the space of his room as his pace quickens slightly, the hand on your thigh slipping between you and the mattress, softly squeezing your ass cheek, keeping you in place, grounding you like you need him to.Â
âFuck, baby.â The sweet petname, whispered in your ear, makes your pussy clench around him and he lets out a muffled grunt. His fingers squeeze the flesh of your ass a little harder and his hips start snapping against yours, wet slaps echoing as he fucks you with short and hard thrusts. âYou like that?â Â
âYes.â You sigh into his neck, nails clawing at his shoulder blades as you take what heâs giving you, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock starts abusing your g-spot, barely pulling out before fucking back into your needy cunt. You feel incredibly close and youâre almost shocked heâs managed to bring you this close to an orgasm so quickly, just with his cock. âFuck- Iâm s-sorry- I think Iâm gonna cum.â Â
âI can feel you.â He moans and raises his head to look at you. âItâs okay, donât say sorry. I want you to.â His hips maintain their perfect rhythm, stimulating the gummy spot inside you as well as your swollen clit. âLet go, baby. Iâve got you.â Â
You squeeze your eyes shut, not being able to handle his intense stare and another moan from him is what send you over the edge. Itâs intense, mind-consuming, your legs shake as he fucks you through it like heâs made for it, messily kissing you, groaning into your mouth as you violently squeeze his cock, walls almost pushing him out, but his thrusts unfaltering. Â
âJesus.â He pants as you cry out, the pleasure now bordering overstimulation, but he doesnât slow down. His back is drenched in sweat, your fingers slipping as they try to hold onto something and he immediately pins your hands above your head as he starts fucking you harder; bruising, animalistic thrusts melting your brain into mush. Â
âJ-Jen, Iâm- oh f- I canât-Â Â
âShhh. You can. Itâll feel good again.â His tongue finds yours in a kiss full of teeth and spit and you can barely focus on anything, too fucked out to function properly. Youâre thankful youâre at least breathing. âYouâre mine. Right, baby?âÂ
Holy fuck. What is happening? Â
âI am?â You mumble against his lips, your heart going ballistic. Â
âYouâre my girl, no?â He holds your arms pinned with one hand as the other cradles your jaw, eyes finding yours.Â
âYes.â You breathe out pathetically. Â
âSay it.â He demands with a sharp thrust, balls slapping against your ass, your arousal coating your inner thighs as he grinds into you. Â
âIâm your girl.â The tip of his cock brushes your abused spot again, mind-numbing pleasure building again, like it never went away.Â
âFuck yeah, you are.â He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking before releasing. âMine.â Â
Your breathing is laboured as his hips resume their ministrations. Fucking you hard and fast towards another high that seems to come even quicker than the previous one. Itâs like heâs forcing them out of you. And you know youâre going to be ruined for any other man after this. You really are his. He owns you. But you canât say that. You refuse to admit it. Even as heâs balls deep in you, fucking you into oblivion, exactly like he promised.Â
âAre you mine?â It slips out before you can register the thought. You blame his dick. Â
He moans. Itâs strangled and deep, his eyebrows tensing as he blinks quickly, as though trying to comprehend your words. Itâs cute and hot at the same time. âFuck- you know I am.âÂ
âTell me.â You whisper, short-breathed, nuzzling your nose with his, your foreheads almost touching and his eyes roll back when your walls flutter around him again. What a sight. Â
âIâm yours, baby.â He grunts as you purposely tighten around him and you didnât think it was possible, but he fucks you harder, the sounds obscene, your back arching as he sits up, kneeling between you spread legs, pushing them up to your chest, fucking you so deep you have to brace your hands against the headboard, a loud cry leaving your throat. âAll yours. All for my girl.â Â
âOh my god.â You exhale harshly, nails digging into wood as his words send you into a frenzy. âFuuuuck Iâm gonna cum.â Your tone pleading and he canât do anything other than oblige. Â
âUh-huh, cum for me, baby.â He whispers, head hanging low as he lets a good amount of saliva dribble from his mouth onto where youâre both connected, and your broken moan echoes around the walls of his room when the digit quickly finds your swollen clit, all wet and slippery from arousal and spit. He flicks the nub in quick up and down motions as he tries to keep the same angle of his hips. Â
A particularly soft flick of his thumb is what makes your body seize, drowning you in obliterating pleasure as your pussy squeezes tight around him again, this orgasm even more intense than the previous one, if not the most intense one youâre ever had in your whole existence.Â
He pulls out with a grunt, hovering over you again, a deep kiss left on your lips before he continues down to your neck, sucking and licking, marking your sweaty skin, and you whimper weakly when his tongue finds a nipple, his big hands squishing your sensitive tits and you donât have it in you anymore to deny him anything. He can do as he pleases.Â
âSo pretty.â He mumbles, completely lost in his own little world that seems to be occupied only by your nipples and tits as he lathers them in his spit, licking and sucking like man starved. Â
Before you have time to regain your breathing, youâre on your front, face buried in his pillows as his hands grab onto your hips. Â
âAss up for me, baby.â He helps you get on your knees, back arched, tits squished against his mattress. âSpread your legs.â He gently taps your outer thigh and you oblige with a whimper as he starts leaving wet kisses on one of your ass cheeks, hands kneading the flesh. Â
âWhat are you doing?â You mumble, slightly panicked as he gets closer and closer to your asshole. Â
You attempt to look back when no answer comes, but your head drops back down in defeat as his tongue licks a fat stripe from your clit to your dripping entrance. The moan that erupts from your throat is broken, surprise evident as you tangle your fingers in his sheets. Â
âWhat the fuck.â You whisper, rushed words muffled by Jenoâs pillows. Your jaw slackens as his tongue languidly circles your sopping hole, dipping lightly, tasting you shamelessly and within seconds it travels back down to your clit, flicking it from side to side with the tip of his tongue, making your legs tremble, struggling to hold you up. Â
Youâre a mess down there, you know it. The filthy sounds filling the room, prove that much. Heâs sloppy with it; making out with your pussy like heâs thirsty, tongue everywhere, even slipping up to your other tight hole a few times, coating you in his spit wherever he can reach. Â
âShit.â He rasps. âI could eat this pussy for days, baby.â Â
âJen-âÂ
âSo perfect.â He mumbles in awe, his lips brushing your sensitive clit before wrapping around it, sucking harshly, tongue flicking in quick motions, driving you crazy, turning you into a blabbering mess, a hand reaching behind you to tangle in his hair, pulling desperately. Â
âPlease fuck me. Want your cum in me.â You donât even know where that filth came from, but you canât bring yourself to care in the slightest. You think you might lose the plot if he doesnât stick his cock in your aching pussy right this second. Â
Thankfully, your begging deems rewarding. You feel the mattress dip behind you as he repositions and the sound you make when he stuffs you to the brim in one motion, resembles a scream. Â
âYeah? My girl wants my cum?â His voice barely reaches your ears over your loud moans as he starts thrusting into you in no time. Hard and fast. And you feel him in your fucking throat; the position allowing him to go deeper than anyone has before. His hands grab onto your waist, fucking you silly onto his cock, his balls slapping your poor clit deliciously and youâre positive youâre drooling onto his pillow. Â
âOh, my fucking god. Right there.â You plead urgently as his tip nudges your g-spot for the umpteenth time tonight, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull, arms crossing over the small of your back, silently asking him to take complete control over your spent body. Â
âShit, Y/N.â He pants, one hand taking hold of your wrists, the other grabs onto your shoulder, forcing you onto his cock, the wet slaps of his hips onto your ass turning you on beyond belief. You arch your back more, craving to feel him as deep as possible and his moan tells you heâs equally as affected. âYou look so good like this.âÂ
You twist your neck, looking over your shoulder, desperately searching for his eyes. You know you look destroyed, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you want him to see, want him to know what heâs done to you, that itâs all him. Â
The second his gaze meets yours, you know itâs game over for both of you. He looks unreal, sweat dripping from his temples down to his neck, chest glistening and heaving, abs flexing beautifully each time he thrusts forward. You know he can feel your walls tightening. His eyes closing momentarily, jaw clenching, his hold around your wrists becoming so deliciously painful, you hope it leaves a mark.Â
The hand on your shoulder slips in your hair, pulling, forcing you off the mattress as he leans forward, slotting your lips with his in a sloppy kiss. Itâs full of tongue, saliva and need. You love it. You love everything heâs doing to you. Â
âYou gonna cum one more time for me, yeah?â He whispers wetly against your lips, spit smearing on both your chins and you canât help but nod dumbly. âGood girl.âÂ
Your face is shoved in his pillow again and next thing you know, heâs fucking the living shit out of you, hand now at the base of your nape as his hold around your wrists doesnât loosen. Â
âYouâre so fucking perfect for me.â Â
Itâs the primal, raw need in his voice along with the brush against your sweet spot that has you teetering over the edge again. Itâs overwhelming. Your fists clench at the small of your back, legs shaking and weren't he holding you in place, you would have collapsed on the mattress limbless. Â
A tear escapes from the corner of your eye from the intensity, trickling down to the pillowcase and you thank the universe when you hear a deep grunt leaving his throat, signalling the beginning of his own orgasm. Â
âShit, baby, Iâm cumming.â His voice trembles and his hips stutter, sloppily thrusting until your feel warmth spreading inside your throbbing cunt, his hot release painting your walls white. He grinds into your ass, dragging both your highs until he lets out a whimper of overstimulation and you intentionally clench a couple of times, wanting to torture him for a little longer considering what he put your body through tonight. Not that youâre complaining, but the pathetic whine that escapes his throat, along with his hands grabbing your hips in urgency, is the best reward you could ask for now. Â
You accidentally let out a breathy chuckle that becomes louder when he lightly slaps your ass in warning. âDonât be a brat.â Â
You mewl when he slowly pulls out and manhandles you onto your back. He leans down, seeking for your lips and he sighs when you meet him halfway, slotting your mouth with his on instinct as his body moulds with yours, his hand slipping his softening length back into your dripping hole with no warning, earning a yelp from you. Â
âMmh, Jen-âÂ
âRelax.â He mumbles into the kiss. âJust feels warm.â He whispers, and you can detect a tone of shyness. You canât help but smile fondly at the side of him youâve rarely seen. Â
âYouâre weird.â You tease, still kissing him slowly. Â
âYouâre annoying.â He retorts, leaving quick little kisses on your lips, moving onto your cheeks, then your nose, then returning to your lips with a chaste smooch that deems you helpless. Giggles and butterflies erupting. Â
âBut you like me.â You sing playfully, dragging the sentence, hands squishing his cheeks to annoy him even more. He stares down at you for a moment, biting his bottom lip to contain a smile you can see anyway. Â
âBut I like you.â He admits, blinking slowly and you canât help but return the smile before leaning up to give him another sweet kiss. Â
When you return from the bathroom, covered in the t-shirt he had on earlier, he is already under the covers, lying on his front. Youâd be surprised if he wasnât exhausted after all that. His bare back looks kissable and the back of his hair a mess and you canât stop smiling giddily. Â
A ding averts your attention. Itâs your phone, coming from your jeans lying on the floor messily. You pick up the piece of clothing as well as the rest of your scattered clothes, placing them somewhat neatly on his desk chair before retreating your phone from your back pocket and setting it on silent mode. Â
âCould you get mine too?â His groggy voice breaks through the silence as you scroll through any missed notifications. Â
âSure.â You reach inside the pocket of his jeans and as youâre about to toss him the phone, he speaks again.Â
âJust turn my alarm off.â He mumbles in the pillow heâs got his face squished in. So cute. Â
You snort. âWhy do you have an alarm set for Sunday?â Â
âI was gonna go gym, but wanna snooze with you. Is that alright?â He fires back, sarcastic even when heâs sleepy. Â
âI guess thatâs alright.â You feign an exasperated sigh. âWhatâs your passcode?âÂ
âSix-nine-six-nine.â He mutters indifferently and you snort again at the silly combination of numbers heâs chosen. Of course itâs sex related. Â
âMeaningful.âÂ
âJust do it and come back to bed.â He huffs impatiently, which makes you giggle. Â
The delighted sound is cut short the second his phone unlocks. Two incriminating messages from that Yuna girl, and a few more from Haechan. You feel like youâre invading, but theyâre right there for your eyes to read. And you instantly regret the whole night. Â
Yuna: where were u tonightÂ
Yuna: thought we were meeting đÂ
Haechan: yuna is looking for youÂ
Haechan: on the verge of telling her youâre busy clapping cheeks with stats girlÂ
Haechan: sheâs pissing me off Â
Haechan: just cut if off if youâre into y/nÂ
Haechan: donât be an idiotÂ
You instantly like Haechan a little more and Jeno a little less. Did he really bring you to a party he was planning on meeting a side piece at? Â
What the actual fuck. Â
âGet back here.â Jeno grumbles sleepily from the bed, and youâre stuck between throwing the phone at his head and smashing it on the floor. Â
You do neither. You choose to stay calm for now. Youâre too tired to cause a scene or have an argument. Â
âComing.â You utter quietly, turning off his alarm before walking back to the bed. Â
You get under the covers without another word. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, not knowing what to really think. You turn the bedside lamp off, mainly because you want to hide your watering eyes and he instantly shuffles closer, his arm wrapping around you, pulling your back flush against his chest, his body curling into yours comfortably. Â
The kiss he leaves on your shoulder makes you close your eyes, refusing to shed tears right now. Grow up Y/N. Â
He lets out a sigh, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. Â
âNight, baby.â He whispers softly, sounding already halfway to dreamland. Â
You knew this was too good to be true. But what are you supposed to do now?Â
Jenoâs fist hurts from the loud banging on the door of your apartment.Â
Last night he went to sleep happy and content. Ecstatic at the thought of waking up next to you, spending the morning in bed with you. But when he woke up all alone and confused, all those positive feelings went down the drain. He feels enraged. Humiliated. But most of all, he feels something he hasnât felt in a really long time. Something that until now, he hasnât allowed himself to feel.Â
Hurt.Â
His chest physically hurt when he realised you werenât in the bathroom or anywhere else in his place. He felt sick when he saw your clothes were not on his chair anymore and your shoes gone from his doorstep.Â
But then, when he checked his phone for any missed calls or texts from you, he realised what was going on. And he felt angry. Mostly with himself but also with you, because you chose to not trust him. Again. Because you chose to leave in silence. Because you chose to drop him instead of talking to him.Â
So, heâs here, banging on your door like a lunatic, running after you like he always is. Because he wants to fix this. Because he canât let you go. He refuses to.Â
Because Jeno doesnât just like you. Heâs crazy about you. He wants you like heâs never wanted anybody else in his entire existence.Â
Because heâs a fool. A fool whoâs undeniably in love with the girl he was just supposed to tutor and help pass a stupid stats class.Â
When the door opens, Mark appears.Â
âWhere is she?â Jeno asks abruptly and Markâs eyebrows shoot up in surprise.Â
âUm, hi?âÂ
âYeah. Hi. Where is she?â He repeats, not in the mood for small talk.Â
âIâm under strict instructions to not let you in.â Mark admits in a low tone. He looks scared.Â
Jeno walks close to the boy, putting on a fake smile and Markâs eyes go wide as he takes a step back in fear.Â
âDo you want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair?â Jeno speaks slowly in a sweet tone, hand raising to squeeze Markâs shoulder in warning.Â
âNo sir.âÂ
âGood. Tell me where she is.âÂ
âBut I-âÂ
âMark.â Tone devoid of any emotion now. Cold as ice. Mark gulps loudly. âI will genuinely beat the living shit out of you.âÂ
âSheâs in the shower.â Mark steps aside obediently, giving Jeno space to enter the apartment. âYou can wait in her room.âÂ
Jeno smiles and gently pats Mark on the cheek. âGood boy.âÂ
As he walks down the hall towards your room, Jeno hears Giselle scolding poor Mark, who just whines quietly. Something along the lines of âyou try thenâ and a defeated sigh.Â
Jeno feels bad for speaking to Mark like that, but he had to do what he had to do. Heâll apologise later. All he really cares about now is you.Â
He takes a seat at the foot of your made bed and his mind drifts to that night he found you lying in his bed. All sad and alone. He remembers how upset you were about your ex and hates to think that heâs now just another guy whoâs hurt you. Because thatâs the last thing Jeno wants to do. All he wants is to be with you.Â
He knows heâs not easy to trust and he knows you have trust issues. Youâve never talked about it, but you donât have to; he can tell. And he doesnât care. Heâll do whatever it takes to gain your trust, but he needs you to want him to try. He needs you to listen to what he has to say.Â
âWas me leaving without a word not enough of a statement?â Your irritated voice interrupts his messy thoughts and Jeno shoots up to his feet.Â
Here you are, shutting your door closed and leaning against it. Your hair is wet from the shower youâve clearly just had and youâre dressed in a baggy t-shirt and cute pyjama bottoms with sushi rolls on them. Under normal circumstances his first thought would have been damn, sheâs cute but right now all he can see are your red glossy eyes. Youâve been crying. Because of him.Â
âWhy canât you ever just talk to me when somethingâs wrong?â His question comes out more accusatory than he intends and he already hates himself for not being able to keep calm.Â
âWhatâs the point?â You say weakly, chin quivering, lips pursing as you look at anywhere but him, blinking your tears away and Jeno canât stand seeing you like this. He just wants to hug you. Keep you safe in his chest.Â
âY/N.â He says sternly, walking closer to you and before you can escape, heâs got your face in his hands, thumb wiping away the single tear thatâs escaped. âBaby, look at me.âÂ
âJen, just-âÂ
âHey, no. Look at me.â He cups your cheeks, even as you attempt to turn away from him. You give in with a defeated sigh. âThose texts you saw. They mean nothing. I swear-âÂ
âI can fucking read.â You interrupt him, voice not so weak now. âShe thought you were meeting her.âÂ
âI agreed to that ages ago. I didnât even remember, I fucking swear! It was before we-â He sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself. âLook. I meant what I said last night. Yes, it was during sex but I really did fucking mean it.âÂ
You blink once.Â
âYouâre my girl.â He steps closer, the sweet smell of your shampoo taking over his senses for a second, but he focuses again. âYouâre the only one. I want you. Just you. Iâm so- I promise you- I havenât been with anyone else since that first time. I donât want anyone else. I only want you.âÂ
âWhy?â You whisper, eyes wide.Â
âBecause. Youâre you. And youâre perfect for me. And I can barely think when youâre around. And Iâm literally about to have a heart attack right now.â He grabs your hand and places it on his chest, and he knows you can feel his insane heartbeat when your breath hitches. âYouâre so fucking annoying. And Iâm crazy about you.âÂ
There. He said it.Â
You sniffle and before he can say anything else, your arms wrap around his waist, face burying in his heaving chest.Â
âYou have to believe me.â Heâs close to begging now, breathing unstable, but he holds you close anyway, arms circling around your shoulders, nose nuzzling in your wet hair.Â
âI believe you.â You whisper in his chest. âIâm sorry I didnât-âÂ
âDonât apologise.â He cuts you off. âIâm the one who fucked up. I shouldâve-âÂ
âItâs fine.â You butt in, and he smiles at how youâre both just communicating in unfinished sentences without failing to understand one another.Â
âSo, what now?â He tries tentatively, unsure of how to approach anything at this point. He just wants things between you to be okay.Â
âIâm tired.â You mumble weakly, and he feels guilt wash over him. You probably didnât get much sleep last night, while he cluelessly dozed off so quickly.Â
âWanna take a nap?â He suggests as his fingers thread through your hair, trying to help you relax.Â
âWill you stay?â You look up at him with soft eyes, still wet from crying and there goes his aching heart again.Â
âOf course, baby.â His palms tenderly cradle your face again and he melts when you stand on your tippy toes. He quickly gives into you, head dipping down slightly to give you the kiss youâre silently asking for.Â
Itâs soft and sweet. You taste like you and toothpaste, and he has to pull away before the innocent kiss escalates into something else. âCome on, letâs get you in bed.âÂ
Once youâre both under your cosy blanket, he lets you rest your head on his chest, arm around your shoulders, one hand stroking your hair, the other tangled with yours, holding them close to his chest, over his now steady heartbeat. Your breathing gradually slows down and heâs sure youâre asleep, he takes his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocking it and opening his chat with Yuna. He sends the text without even thinking it over and sighs as he sets his phone down on your bedside table.Â
He smiles as he inhales your familiar scent, his eyes closing in contentment as he keeps repeating the words he just typed out, in his head. Particularly the second sentence.Â
Canât see you anymore. I have a girlfriend.Â
And yeah, he's yet to ask you properly, but at the end of the day, youâre his girl. And it canât get any deeper than that.Â
THE WAY I ATE ALL THIS UP IM STILL FULL RN BUT I AM ALSO GREEDY AF I JUST HAVE TO READ THIS ALL OVER AGAIN AND PRETEND I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING YET. this is soooooooo fawking good I LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH FLAWS AND ALL. while i totally get where each of them was coming from (most esp my dearest dear mc).. personally jeno is a bit of a jerk or totally one for not clearing things up with yuna at least since wayyyy earlier as it was still kinda hard for him to be truthful about his feelings for mc BUT THEN AGAIN!!!! we've been warned about some toxicity here and there AND ALSO I COMPLETELY understand the fact that they weren't even ANYTHING that time so jeno could do whatever he wants IDK IM JUST MAD AS HELL AND JEALOUS AS IF IT WAS HAPPENING TO ME SO YEA MAYBE I DID RELATE TO HER A LITTLE BIT. But to somehow make it up you gave us one of the sweetest, hair pulling moments ever , when she asked him to go to her apartment and they just kissed . that ONE'S A PERSONAL FAVORITE 𼚠also can i just say how i am SO obsessed with jeno being whipped right from the beginning and then it only gets worse by the minute đđđđ (i mean they both are but HEY) ANDDDDDDDDD shoutout to jeno really fighting for it for them and his calmness (even when it gets annoying at some point) THANK U SO MUCH FOR THIS FOOD ILYSM OP I KNOW I STILL HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY BUT JUST GIVES ME THE CHANCE TO READ IT AGAIN but maybe read haechan's fic đ then go back to this .
pairing: fwb! mark lee x tutor! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 29k+
synopsis -> sex helps him focus. focus he needs for your tutoring sessions. it was a win-win for mark lee when you proposed to add a stress-relief session to the schedule. the favorite fuckboy and the girl who doesnât believe in love equals the ultimate friends with benefits set-up. itâs the perfect dream team! but uh ohâŚit seems like mark has been shot by cupidâs arrow. will mark survive all of your attempts at pushing him away?
warnings -> grab the tissues! (can be used for multiple reasons) pet name unlocked: kitten, so much dialogue, theyâre both yappers, mentions of: periods, reader has avoidant-attachment issues, a little toxic, a lot broken, mark is so down bad it hurts me, angst, +18, crude language, fuckboys, a party, alcohol, starts off with a lot of smut! edging!!!, mark whines and whimpers and cries, oral (m+f), he loves eating pussy, nipple-play, fingering, blow-job, sex on the desk, rough sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, reader is on the pill, sensory play, overstimulation, a fake orgasm, mentions of: period sex, masturbation (m).
an -> third installment of the loverboy series is yours! i did so much research for this holy shit (shoutout to quizlet, friends with benefits, prom-pact and ariana grandes: eternal sunshine album). i donât know anything about advanced music theory or history please i got it all off quizlet. if itâs wrong, do not come for me! important things to note -> you do not have to read stupid cupid or flying kiss to understand this story but 1) mark is the favorite fuckboy. heâs very upfront. tells you what he wants from the beginning, never leaving you doubting his actions. 2) jeno and bunnyâs story is simultaneously happening 3) jaemin and his gf, angel, are happily together. have fun reading! with love, c.
âi donât feel it,â your voice bites through the night air, cold and detached.
âi donât love you.â you add with absolutely no remorse, just the tired truth of someone who stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.
mark canât help but think back to how exactly he got here â watching you walk away with the heart you shattered into a million pieces, drowning in the silence, wondering how he ever thought he could be the one to change your mind.
ááᢠone month ago. april 2. wednesday.
mark bursts into the study room like he was being chased, slightly out of breath and as usual, thirty minutes late to your tutoring sessions. you didnât even bother looking up from your notes.
âyouâre late. again.â you said flatly, highlighting a passage in the textbook as if his presence didnât affect your mood at all. it did. the wasted time makes your irritation grow sharper. it was only three days of the week and he still couldn't show up on time.
âsorry, was busy,â he said, running a hand through his mess of dark hair, lipstick stain on his neck, smelling like cheap perfume and sex.
you arched your eyebrow, âthatâs the third time, mark.â
he offers an apologetic smile, dropping into the chair across from you, pulling out his notebook, âi know, i know, she justâŚtook longer to finish.â
you slammed your highlighter down, âjust because iâm your friend doesnât mean you can completely act unprofessional,â you roll your eyes, âthis is my time youâre wasting too.â
he looked at you, your signature eyeliner and maroon lips making you look sharper, meaner, ready to pounce at any minute.
a mixture of guilt and fear flickers briefly across his features before he sighed and slumped forward, ây/n, iâm sorry. really. it just helps with the stress you know? clears my head so i can focus.â
âmark,â you leaned in âis your sex life really more important than your three failing classes?,â you remind him of the reason why you were here in the first place. he doesnât respond and the silence was answer enough. you look at him, brain already calculating ways to solve this problem, until you got to one conclusion â itâs a ridiculous idea but it would be the most effective.
âfine,â you said, tapping your pen against the table, âwe can have sex,â you propose.
mark whipped his head towards you like youâve just grown two heads, âwhat?!â
you shrugged like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, âi canât have you missing another session, you need to pass these classes,â you reason. âi have a 100% success rate mark, iâm not letting you ruin that because you need to get your dick wetâŚso show up earlier, we add a stress relief session then start tutoring right away,â you explain like youâve been thinking about this the whole week.
mark chuckles, an eyebrow raised. sounds like a pretty great plan to him â too greatâŚactually.
âwhatâs the catch?,â he asks, eyeing you suspiciously, elbow on the table as he leaned towards you.
âno catch, i just have one ruleâ you smirk, pointing a finger up. he nods, urging you to go on.
âyou canât sleep with anyone else,â you say simply.
this makes him laugh.
âi donât go exclusive, y/n.â
âplease,â you scoff, âi donât want to date you mark,â you say clearly, âi just donât want to catch a disease.â
you were very aware of markâs title â everyoneâs favorite fuckboy, leader of the dream fraternity, co-captain of the universityâs basketball team and can play guitar. everyone wants a piece of him. and almost everyone has gotten a piece of him.
âiâm clean!,â he argued, looking offended.
âyeah? for how long?,â you shot back, a teasing smirk on your face.
he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair, âfineâŚthen i get to add a rule too.â
âthatâs fair, whatâs your rule?,â you ask.
âyou canât fall in love with me.â a smirk on his lips.
this makes you laugh.
âwell, isnât your lucky day, mark lee,â you say with a sly smile, âi donât believe in love.â
he studied you for a moment, confusion flickering behind his eyes, a subtle memory from freshman year playing in his mind until the smile on his face faded into something quieter, âiâm serious, y/n,â he says with conviction.
you raise a brow, âand iâm serious too markâŚthe day i fall in love is the day money starts raining from the sky.â
he watches you then lets out a short laugh, âokay, just wanted to be clear,â he nods, a grin creeping in, âsoâŚfriends with benefits then?â
âexactly,â you hold your hand, âdeal?â
mark laughs before accepting it, sealing the deal with a firm handshake, âdeal.â
without warning, you yank him towards you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that steals his breath â itâs quick, sharp, deliberate. before he can respond, before he can even think about deepening it, youâve already pulled away, a smirk on your lips as you start packing your things in your bag.
âthis roomâs only reserved for an hour and you just wasted it,â you say over your shoulder.
âmy apartment. friday. 6PM. if youâre late weâre going straight to studying.â you warn him before leaving him there feeling like he just won the lottery.
it was the perfect situation for him â heâll pass his classes and get to have sex without having to do all the extra work of chatting up a girl and trying to impress them just to get in their pants. it hasnât even started yet and he already felt like a winner.
ááᢠapril 4. friday.
mark knocks on your door at exactly 6:00 pm on friday evening. his backpack hung on his shoulder.
âhuhâŚso you can arrive on time,â you tease, leaning on your apartmentâs door.
âwhat can i say? iâm stressed and i need to be relieved,â he shrugs, a childish grin on his lips.
âalright, come on,â you grab his arm, dragging him past your living room and straight to your room.
âsoâŚhow do we do this?,â he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps inside, standing in your room awkwardly, backpack still on his shoulder. he looks around, noticing your bare walls and how everything seemed to be neat and organized.
âwhat? sex? arenât you supposed to be the expert?,â you quip, raising an eyebrow in amusement, snapping his attention back to you.
he rolls his eyes, âwell usually, i flirt with the girl first before i get in their pants,â he reasons.
ânu-uh, we donât have time for that,â you cut in, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your red lacy bra and the tiny black pajama shorts that hung low on your waist.
markâs eyes widen slightly, glint with amusement, unabashedly checking you out, âdang dude, youâre fucking sexy.â
âis that how you talk to every girl youâre about to have sex with?,â you chuckle.
âthatâs how i talk to my friends,â he smirks, earning a snort from you.
âare you gonna take off your clothes or are you just gonna keep gawking?,â you tease, lips curled into a smirk. mark rolls his eyes, finally setting his backpack down by the edge of your bed and removing both his t-shirt and sweats with ease, leaving him in his black boxers, still standing across from you â it was your turn to check him out. heâs lean, more toned than you expected, abs on display, the outline of his cock prominent through his boxers.
ânice,â you mutter, making him raise a brow in amusement. in one smooth motion, you slide down your shorts and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side somewhere as you stood proud and tall, in your red matching panties, not shying away from his gaze.
your confidence (tits) draws him in, stepping forward, closing the distance. both his hands come up immediately, cupping your breasts, thumbs grazing smoothly over your nipples with open fascination. you hitch your breath, the sensation of his fingertips making your pussy clench around nothing.
mark almost canât believe whatâs happening right now, âthis is silly,â he breathes out, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, his hands still massaging your boobs.
âmy boobs?,â you ask flatly, a little offended.
âno, your boobs are great, dude,â he says quickly, âi meant this situation is silly, iâve never had sex with a friend before,â he says, still rolling your nipples in between his fingertips.
âyou can always back out, we can skip this and go straight to tutoring,â you say, giving him a chance to change his mind.
he lets out a dry chuckle, eyes flicking down between you, ây/n, youâre kidding right? my dick is hard as shit and iâm playing with your boobsâŚweâre not going straight to fucking tutoring.â
you grin, biting back a laugh, âiâm very aware that youâre playing with my boobs and if you donât plan on fucking the shit out of me in the next minute, iâm putting my clothes back on,â you warn him.
he doesnât wait for a second warning. his boxers hit the floor and you follow suit, slipping your underwear to the ground. grabbing a condom out of his wallet, he rolls it on smoothly. then, with no hesitation, he makes his way back to you, lifting you off the ground. mark was a lot stronger than you thought he was, picking you up like you were as light as a feather. your back hits your mattress with a bounce as he hovers over you, eyes dark with intent, that devilish, childish grin sitting on his lips.
then his mouth crashes onto yours in an instant, messy and hungry. the kind of kiss thatâs all teeth and heat and no hesitation. you tug on his hair, eliciting a groan from him, urging him closer as your tongue meets, battling for dominance. his hands are everywhere, gripping your thighs, hips, waist like he couldnât get enough of the feeling of your skin.
âhurry up mark, youâre on the clock,â you pant, fire curling low in your belly.
âyou said fuck the shit out of you right?,â he growls against your throat, voice low, barely restrained.
âif you can,â you tease, challenging him to pick up the pace.
he was tired of the mocking. mark aligns himself against your entrance and with no warning, no gentleness, he slams into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs â the stretch was delicious, filled with pain from the lack of foreplay, groans bouncing off of each otherâs mouths, âfuuck y/n, you feel insaneâ he grunts as he thrusts with a rhythm that makes the bed squeak.
you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him in even deeper, harder, pussy sucking him perfectly as you calculatingly start clenching impossibly tight for him, âh-holy shit,â he groans, sweat dripping from his temple, â-quit doing that,â mark warns but doesnât relent his unforgiving pace, chasing the edge like heâs starving for it.
all the while, you just wanted him to get there â the faster he finishes, the faster you can start tutoring. your hands wander throughout his body, leaving goosebumps all throughout his skin until they land on his nipples, you rub him until he was whining and groaning against your mouth, âfuck-mm close,â he manages to say in between his heavy pants, âme too,â you lie.
the pleasure in your stomach was building but you werenât at all close to the finish line.
âyeah?,â he hisses, thrusts getting messier and messier as he fights back the urge to cum, waiting for you. his lips latch on to your neck, licking and kissing.
you decide to end his torment, âiâm cumming,â you announce, exaggeratedly, forcing yourself to clench around him as much as you can, watching him topple over. he grunts beside your ear, his release finally taking over as he spills into the condom.
âoooh, yeahh,â you moan, faking your orgasm as you push him off of you and into the bed beside you.
mark barely has a moment to catch his breath, chest still heaving from his orgasm, when he turns sharply toward you, narrowing his eyes, âwaitâŚdid you just fake it?,â he asks, feeling betrayed.
âuhh, no,â you mutter out, focusing on the ceiling, pretending to catch your breath.
mark shuffles beside you, clearly unconvinced, âthatâs not how girls cum, y/nâ
âthatâs how i cum!,â you argue and mark shakes his head. he wasnât stupid. heâs been with enough ladies to know that that was a fake orgasm.
he shakes his head, frowning, âno way, i feel like i just used you,â he says, the words leave a sour taste in his mouth â mark never leaves a lady unsatisfied, which is the reason why he kept on showing up late to the past three tutoring sessions. it doesnât matter how long it takes, heâs not leaving the bed until they are doneâŚuntil you are done. itâs a point of pride. call it ego or decency but either way, he doesnât half-ass pleasure. how else do you think he got the title of the favorite?
âitâs fine mark, we need to start our session,â you say, sitting up. but before you could get further, mark tugs you back into the pillows.
your eyes widen in slight shock, âwhat are you doing?â
âpretty sure friends with benefits means were both benefiting,â he smirks, âiâm not moving on until you cum,â eyes glittering with playful determination, earning an eye roll from you.
âwe donât have time for this,â you scoff, trying to push him away. but he was a lot stronger than you, grabbing your hands and pinning you down the mattress.
âgive me ten minutes,â he says, voice low. you look at him amused, âyou think you can make me cum in ten minutes?,â you mock, an eyebrow going up.
âjust shut up and reap the benefit,â he bites back as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, leaving no room for arguments.
âno hickeys, mark,â you warn him. he ignores you but doesnât leave a mark anyways, lips trailing lower and lower, stopping for a moment to suck on your nipples, your back arching towards him. he takes a mental note of the way your body immediately responds every time he gets near your breasts.
that familiar pleasure starts to pool in your core again, unmistakable and creeping in fast. and when your hands go lax in his grip, he knew he won this time. he looks up at you with an amused glint in his eyes, hands slowly letting go of your wrists as he let them roam all over your body, mouth still worshipping your breasts, watching your every reaction, taking note of your satisfied little hums, the softs gasps and the way your lips part unconsciously.
he travels lower and lower, tongue leaving a warm, wet path behind. then, he pauses âhmm, whatâs this?,â his fingers ghost over the tiny artwork placed on the right side of your hip, just above your underwear line.
âa cat.â
âcute,â he says with a grin, kissing over your tattoo, âwhy a cat?â
âi donât know, i was drunk,â you were growing impatient, the frustration was getting to you. youâre pretty sure heâs already used up half of his ten minutes. nowâs not the time for small talk.
âhurry up, mark,â you say, taking matters into your own hands and pushing his head lower â exactly where you needed him.
mark chuckles, the warmth of his breath making your thighs twitch, âfeisty,â he teases, âthe cat is fitting.â youâre ready to fire back with a smart remark but the words get caught in your throat when he slowly licks a strip between your folds.
âmmm, you taste so fucking sweet,â he praises, kitten-licking in between your folds before finally dragging his tongue up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud. a moan slips from your lips, all thoughts of tutoring and snarky comebacks dissolve, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue lapping against you.
you havenât been eaten out in so long, your last and only boyfriend absolutely hated going down on you and the other one night stands you had never seemed like they knew what they were doing â always leaving you to finish what they started.
mark settles comfortably between your thighs, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as he continues sucking, licking, spitting, completely consumed with the kind of hunger that makes it feel like heâs the one being pleasured. your hips instinctively move, grinding against his face as you tried to reach the high that was slowly but surely building inside you, âfuckk mark, f-feels so good,â you whine against his touch.
you feel him smirk against your clit before he slides two fingers in, following the curve of your pussy, learning the way your body molds. his mouth doesnât stop, still locked onto your sensitive bud, sucking with relentless precision. and as soon as he found that spot, you can't help but shut your eyes in pleasure.
âoh goddd, mark,â you cry out, your body arching off the bed, head flat against your sheets as your fingers made itâs way to his hair, lightly tugging, making sure he stays exactly where he is. he lifts your legs over his shoulders, adjusting his angle, pushing his fingers in deeper as his mouth continues its worship. he eats you out like a man starved, the noises of your juices squelching filling up the room and it felt so, so good.
you can feel the heat rising through your body. mixtures of ragged pants and high-pitched moans tumbling out of your lips helplessly as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside you. then his free hand slides up to your torso, pinching your nipple just enough to tip you over the edge, completely at his mercy, âfuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, im cumming, im cumming,â you gasp, repeating it like a prayer, fingers digging into the sheets until youâre knuckles were white, trying to ground yourself on something. your orgasm completely washes over you, body trembling as you were left gasping for air, jaw slacked, eyes rolled back, toes curled.
mark doesnât let up, drawing out every aftershock until youâre twitching, overstimulated. you push his head away and only then does he pull back â grinning, breathless, face decorated with your slick.
ânow thatâs how girlâs cum,â he says proudly, licking his fingers clean, looking smug as hell.
you roll your eyes, trying to snap out of the haze, âyou said ten minutes, that was definitely longer.â
âwhatever kitten, we still have twenty minutes left of the tutoring session,â he smirks.
âkitten?,â you repeat, confused.
âitâs fitting right?,â he shrugs. you shake your head, reaching for your clothes with a playful scoff, ignoring the way your legs still feel like jelly. twenty minutes was not enough time but you grabbed the flashcards you had meticulously prepared earlier anyway.
âfineâŚtime for music theory,â you say as mark groans dramatically beside you.
ááᢠapril 6. sunday.
mark: wyd? come to the dream fraternity party
kitten: canât. busy.
mark: but i need to relieve stressâŚ
kitten: mark, itâs only been two days.
mark: yeah two days too long đŠ
kitten: weâre literally seeing each other tomorrow
mark: why are you blue balling me? đ¤đ
kitten: im not. you can still use your hand! đ¤
mark: it doesnât feel as good âšď¸ not warm enough âšď¸
kitten: go heat up a sock and figure it out đŤś
mark: are you sure that rule of yours is final? a really hot girl just walked in and my dick is pointing towards her direction đđđĽľ
kitten: go ahead đââď¸
mark: bro, really???
kitten: yep! but donât expect to get your dick anywhere near me tomorrow đââď¸đââď¸
mark: nvm đ
kitten: see you tomorrow đ
mark begrudgingly walks up the stairs, ignoring all the girls who were glancing his way. he canât risk it, the deal had just started and it was too fun to spoil â settling into his sheets, he pumped himself up and down until he was spilling into his hand.
ááᢠapril 7. monday.
when mark walked into your apartment, he was ready to pounce, eyes already scanning you like you were his favorite dessert. but he stopped short, confusion flickering across his face â you were wearing layers upon layers, âuhmm, you do know itâs spring right?,â he says.
âi know,â you say, a playful smile on your lips as you lead him towards your bedroom.
âso whatâs with all the extra layers?,â he trails behind you, suspicious.
âweâre gonna play a game,â you say simply.
ânoo, y/n, the deal was i get here, we have mind blowing sex, then we study,â he groans.
âyeah, well that didnât work out last time,â you point out, remembering the fact that it took the two of you almost the entire session just to finish, âso i decided, weâre gonna mix the two together,â you finish, a sly smile on your lips.
âwhatâs the game?,â he narrows his eyes, though he canât deny the excitement bubbling in him.
âfor every question you get right, i take off a piece of clothing,â you say, explaining the rules, âand for every question you get wrong, you remove one of yours.â
he perks up immediately, spark dancing in his eyes. mark loves a good game. loves it even more when he wins â he sits at the edge of your bed, already looking far too cocky for someone whoâs about to get mentally grilled. you sat on your computer chair across from him, flashcards in hand and fully clothed.
âalright, iâll start off easy,â you begin, flipping through the flashcards you barely used during the last session, âwhatâs a major key with 6 flats?â
he laughs, âplease, a G flat.â
âcorrect,â you nod, peeling off the scarf around your neck and dropping it to the floor. mark smirks. if all of your questions were this easy, you were going to be naked in no time.
ânext, what do you do to write an aeolian scale?.â
âyou use the natural minor of the note given,â he says with ease, relaxed and confident.
âlucky guess,â you mutter, slowly removing your cardigan.
âiâm not that clueless,â he explains, finding it all amusing. his eyes dropping to the now visible thin tank top you were sporting.
âthen why are you failing three of your classes?,â you shot back.
âbecause the assignments are dumb and i donât have time to do them, i already know how to apply them in real life,â he shrugs, âwhy do i need to know all these terms?â
you study him for a second, âmark, you canât expect to skip steps and magically pass all of your classes,â you say.
âyeah, iâm learning that the hard way,â he pauses, his shoulders tense, the stress catching up to him once again, ânow ask the next one so i can suck on your tits,â he smirks.
you roll your eyes, asking the next question anyway, âin scale degrees, major scales, what are the augmented triads?â
âtrick question,â he smirks, âthere are none.â
âcorrect,â you smile at him, removing one sock.
âyouâre taking off one sock?? that barely counts!,â he groans like a spoiled child.
you shrug innocently, âstill clothing.â
he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, âokay fine, give me the next one.â
you raise your eyebrow, âwhatâs a hemiola?â
mark frowns, racking his brain for an answer, âuhhhâŚâ
you grin, tapping your foot.
âsomething about a repeating melodic phrase representing a theme?,â he asks, head turned like a curious puppy.
âwrong. thats a leitmotif,â you correct him, âshirtâs off, mark lee.â he groans but obeys, tugging it over his head. you do your best not to stare too hard at his abs but he catches you.
âdefine consonance and give an example,â you grin wickedly.
âseriously?â he asks. âthis is cruel.â
âtake off your pants if you canât answer,â you tease him. he mutters under his breath about how unfair this was before his pants come sliding off, leaving him in his boxers.
âwhat is a long note divided into shorter, usually melodic, values?,â you continue, holding up the next card.
âoh! i know that one, itâs a diminution,â he says proudly. you remove your other sock.
he narrows his eyes, âyouâre cheating.â
ânope. youâre just losing,â you tease.
you flash the next card, âalright, what is existing or occurring within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?â
â...i hate you,â he mutters as he gives up on pretending to answer, accepting defeat and sliding off his boxers. his semi hard cock on display.
you laugh, fully dressed except for the missing cardigan and socks, âawee, look at youâŚall naked and weâre barely halfway.â
mark glares, though thereâs a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, âthis is the most academically humiliating foreplay iâve ever experienced.â
you laugh, âwhere is the tenor clef sign located?,âyou give him an easy one, knowing that he needs to have motivation to keep going.
âone space above the alto clef,â he says. you hum, pleased, stripping off your leggings, showing off the white lacy underwear you wore just for him. his eyes drop instantly to the undeniable wet spot of your arousal and you part your legs slightly, inviting him, teasing.
âyou sick little, kitten,â he swallows, âthis is actually turning you on?,â he asks, mildly confused and little turned on.
âwhat can i say? i love humiliating men,â you smirk, earning an eye roll from him, âwhatâs a cluster?â
âa chord consisting of at least three adjacent notes of a scale,â he answers, voice low, tense. more determined now to get the answers correct.
âgood boyâ you purr, lifting the tank top over your head, that little praise makes his mind go absolutely crazy, his cock twitching. your sheer white bra does nothing to hide your hardened nipples and mark fights back the urge to pull you into his lap and fuck you senseless, his boner getting harder within each passing second, restraint visibly cracking.
âdefine neoclassicism,â you ask, voice steady, brows raised.
mark blinks, then answers slowly, âuhh a general revival or interest in classical cultures and usage of themes and styles from ancient greece and rome?â
you look up at him, impressed, âcanât believe all it takes is wanting to see my tits to get you this focused,â you grin, unclasping your bra and tossing it right into his lap. he catches it midair, eyes instantly zeroing in on your now bare-chest. you roll your chair closer to him, spreading your legs and placing them on either side of him, effectively caging him in. markâs breath hitches â it was getting real hot in here and he was fully naked.
he reaches for your breast but you slap his hand away, âtouch me and the session ends. weâre done.â you warn â having control turns you on more than you care to admit. the way his eyes darken but obeys anyway. the tension practically pulsing between your bodies. he looked so small in between your legs and it makes you want to break him even more.
âhurry up and give me the next one,â he mutters, jaw tight, trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. it was torture. having a sexy half-naked girl right in front of him and not being able to do anything about it. your breasts were on full display, sitting prettily on your chest, your panties were practically dripping and he wanted nothing more but to taste you. wanted nothing more than to hear you moaning under him once again â you were a cruel vision of pleasure heâs not allowed to touch.
âa phrygian is which degree for the key?â
âuhh fifth?,â he guesses.
âwrong,â you say, lips curling in amusement. he groans, cock twitching.
âa mixolydian is which degree for the key?â
âthird!,â he tries this time.
âwrong again,â you say, nearly laughing now. his patience was starting to blur. heâs one wrong answer away from losing his mind and youâre relishing every second of it â enjoying every grunt that passes his lips. his cock twitching so close to your core, making you clench.
âyou got them mixed up,â you correct him before asking the next question, âa lydian is which degree for the key?â
he groans. he was barely holding on. he shuts his eyes, pausing, taking a minute to think about it, â...fourth?â
you lean in, voice silk and smoke, âare you asking me or are you telling me, mark lee?â
âi-iâm telling you,â he says, voice shaking with the amount of restraint he was trying to hold on to. you were so close now, heat practically radiating off of you. you smirk up at him, tossing the flashcards to the side and smashing your lips on his. he responds immediately. lips chasing yours, urgently and needy.
âcorrect,â you whisper in between the kiss. his hands immediately latch under your thighs as he pulls you into his lap. you feel the hot, hard press of his cock against your soaked underwear.
âtake these damn panties off,â you murmur against his ear. he grunts as his fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling down the last barrier between you.
âfuuckk, youâre dripping for me,â he praises, dragging his fingers through your slick, rubbing up and down your folds before sliding two deep inside of you, making you moan against his lips. this time, his fingers immediately find that spot that makes your toes curl.
âr-right there, markâŚd-donât stop,â you whine, the tension between you rising as your hips start riding his digits, matching the rhythm of his fingers curling inside you. each thrust sends sparks through your belly, pressure building fast. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast but precise circles that have your head falling back, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you continue to bounce on his fingers. his lips close around your nipples, tongue flicking, sucking furiously, drawing out the high you canât hold back â your orgasm came crashing down embarrasingly fast, leaving you breathless.
âcanât believe humiliating me got you this fucking soaked,â he smirks, breath hot against your skin, âyouâre such a dirty girl, kitten,â he teases, licking his fingers clean. before you can recover, he flips you over with practiced ease, ass up and back arched just the way he likes it. you hear the familiar crinkle of foil as he tears open the condom wrapper, then feel the thick heat of him pressing against your entrance before he slides in, deep, the stretch making your teeth clench â the wait was worth it. you were so wet for himâŚso warm he almost busted as soon as he entered.
âyouâre cumming on my cock this time,â he growls, determined, as he adjusts his member, searching for the angle that makes you scream. as soon as he found it, his fingers dig into your hips, thrusting into you from behind, sharp and relentless, your face pressing down on the sheets as the slap of skin echoes throughout the room.
this new angle hits you perfectly, âf-feels so good,â you manage to gasp, voice shaking with every snap of his hips as your hands continue to grip the sheets for stability, moans growing louder with each movement.
he growls in response as he leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, âthis what you wanted, kitten?, to tease me until i snapped?â you can barely form words, nodding helplessly, body jolting forward with the force of each thrust. his hand snakes around to press against your lower belly, holding you still as he drives deeper, harder, making sure that you canât fake anything this time.
âcum,â he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he starts sucking on your shoulder, âcum all over my cock.â
âfuck markâiâm so close!,â you cry out, voice cracking under the pleasure, building fast and unforgiving. your knees feel weak beneath you but his grip keeps you grounded, keeps you exactly where he wants you. sweat sticks to both of your bodies now, the heat almost unbearable. then, without warning, he pulls you up, your spine arching as he pressed you against his chest. one arm wraps around you tightly, holding you in place while the other dips between your thighs, fingers finding your swollen clit, circling in perfect sync with the relentless thrust of his hips.
âcâmon, kittenâ he breathes against your neck, voice low and rough, âgive me another one,â he grunts. you cry out, whimpering, overwhelmed â your release finally taking over as breathless whines of his name slip from your lips.
you came all over his cock, body jerking in his arms, head falling back against his shoulder. mark holds you through it, grinding deep inside, chasing his own release with a sharp muffled groan against your skin. for a moment the room is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the faint creak of the mattress, savoring your shared orgasms until he finally pulls out, flopping backwards onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, arm draped over his eyes. you let yourself melt into the pillows, limbs heavy and boneless, chest still rising and falling in the aftermath. he lies beside you, chest glistening with sweat, rising with each breath.
âwell,â mark pants, breaking the silence, âif we keep studying like this, iâm definitely passing all of my classes with an A+â
you laugh breathlessly, turning your head to the sound of his voice, âA+ huh? thatâs bold of you.â
âplease,â he says, cracking one eye open to look at you, âyou saw me, I was focused, determinedâŚinspirational,â he exaggerates, a playful smile on his lips.
âyou got half of the questions wrong,â you point out, âweâre far away from an A+,â you tease.
he smirks, âfine by me, that just means more tutoring sessions,â he throws you a wink and you roll your eyes, but you canât help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
you kick him out of your apartment as soon you both calm down, mark leaving completely satisfied. this is, by far, the greatest deal he has ever had to make.
ááᢠapril 9. wednesday.
you sat cross-legged on the bed, flashcards in hand, watching mark settle into your desk chair with boyish excitement written all over his face. he leaned back, arms draped lazily over the armrests. you werenât wearing a ridiculous amount of layers today, which meant he was going to be able to fuck you faster than last time.
âso,â you begin, flipping through the stack, âtodayâs game is a little different.â
his brows lift in curiosity, an eager smile playing at his lips. of course it was. he shouldâve known you always came with surprises. always keeping him on his toes.
âfor every question you get right,â you say, pausing just for dramatic effect, âi suck your dick.â
markâs eyes widen a little too fast, the thought of your mouth around his cock so appealing. this was going to be too easy, âyouâre joking?,â he breaks into a smug grin.
âiâm not,â you smirk, making your way over to him and sinking to your knees in front of him. you look up, expression all wide eyes and faux innocence. he knows better by now. âbut donât get cocky,â you warn, smirking as you settle between his legs, âiâm not moving if the answer is wrong.â
that wipes the grin off his face, just a little, âiâm not getting any of them wrong.â he came prepared this time, actually paying attention in class and reviewing his notes in order to be able to be rewarded by you.
you chuckle as you tug his sweats down, revealing his already semi hard cock, âno underwear?,â you asked, an amused smile on your face.
âwhy bother?,â he shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips. with no warning, your fingers wrap around his member, stroking slowly, giving him a preview of whatâs to come â mark immediately groans at your touch, head tipping back slightly at the sensation of your warm hands, cock already twitching in your hand. you looked so tiny around him and heâs already struggling to keep his composure. then your tongue glides along the side of his shaft, slow and deliberate, before swirling around the tip, collecting his leaking precum. the taste lingers on your tongue as you look up at him through your eyelashes. he was too relaxed, too comfortable, eyes focused on you with a smug on his lips. without breaking eye contact, you take the tip of his now fully hard cock into your mouth, sucking gently. it earns a low grunt from deep in his chest, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, but just when he leans into the sensation, you pull away completely, lips slipping off him with a soft pop.
frustration flashes across his face as you casually reach over and grab the stack of flashcards beside you and heâs reminded that this was the game. perhaps, this is not as easy as he thought it was going to be. he sighs in defeat and all you do is wave the flashcard lazily in your hand, eyes glinting with mischief. mark sits up straighter, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing in front of you, twitching with every passing second.
âalright,â you begin, voice sweet, innocent and absolutely lethal, âwhat is existing within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?,â you repeat the question he got wrong last time.
mark squints, trying to focus, despite the way your fingers are slowly tracing circles on his inner thigh, not quite touching him. âdiegetic or source music,â he answers. you raise an eyebrow, impressed, a hum of approval slipping past your lips.
âcorrect.â before he can smirk, you lean forward again, lips wrapping around him once more, this time a little deeper. his head falls back instantly, a low grown escaping. you suck him in slow and warm, letting the reward sink in and just as he starts to melt, you pull away again with a soft gasp of air, reaching for the next card like nothing happened.
he looks down at you, flustered, chest rising faster, âkitten, youâre insane.â
you flash him a dangerous smile, âdefine mickey-mousing.â
he doesnât answer right away, jaw tight, trying to stay focused while his cock stands there, glistening and so so hard. âa film technique that syncs the accompanying music with the actions on screen,â he says, breathing hard.
âlook at you, actually paying attention,â you tease before leaning in again, placing a kiss to his tip, taking him once again, just a little deeper, a little wetter. his whole body shudders and he mutters something that sounds like a prayer. you were only three flashcards in. he doesnât know how much of this edging he could take. he hopes, god, he hopes he knew all the answers. when you let go again, you smile sweetly, tapping the next card against his thigh, making him clench slightly.
âwhat are the notes of a D major triad?â â âD, F, A,â he manages to say.
âhmm, wrong, those are the notes of D minor triad,â you correct him, leaving his cock neglected as you sit back on your heels, folding your hands in your lap. âno mouth for wrong answers,â you tease as he groans, head falling back dramatically.
âyouâre actually evil, kitten.â
you only smile, reaching for another card. he glares at you like a man on the verge of a breakdown, âhurry up, i'm going to die.â
you ignore him, âlist all major intervals,â you ask, resting your elbow on his knee like this is the most casual game of flashcards in the world. like his dick wasnât right in front of your tits â the image has his cock twitching extra hard. he had to get this one correct. he racks his brain for the answers, recalling what he learned in class.
âitâs major second, major third, major sixth and major seventh,â he answers shakily.
your hand curls around the base of his cock again, making him suck in a sharp breath âcorrect,â you take him in all over again. he exhales hard, threading his fingers into your hair, grounding himself. youâre slower this time, deliberate and precise, letting the praise build in your mouth just like the tension between you. he did give you four correct answers. when his hand tighten a little too hard, you pull off again.
âfucckk, i hate this,â he whines shakily.
âscale the degrees in order,â you smirk.
âtonic, supertonic, mediant, subdominant, dominant, submediant, leading tone,â he answers quickly, determined, voice breathless with need.
âwowâŚall correct,â you say, a light shock in your tone and a proud smile tugging at your lips. he doesnât even get a second to bask in it before your mouth is on him again, wet, warm, perfect. he moans, hips twitching up slightly and you let him, just for a second. the reward is intoxicating. and you have half the mind to continue sucking him until he was writhing under your touch. but you pull away once more, wiping your lips with a devilish smile.
âalright, next one,â you say cheerily, like this is all just a friendly trivia night.
mark looks like he might cry.
âwhy are you doing this to me?,â he gasps.
âdonât act like you donât like it,â you say, âbesides itâs working, youâve only missed one question so far,â you say proudly.
âyeah, because iâll literally die if i miss another,â he whines â this went on for a good thirty minutes more. mark only getting a couple wrong, until you were down to your last flashcards and he was teetering at the edge. ready to bust every single time you put your mouth on him but not quite getting there.
his cock is so red, throbbing, leaking to the point it hurts. a couple drops messily on his thigh, a couple on his stomach but never enough to reach his full release. there were tears streaking down his cheeks, his lips quivering. he was absolutely gutted. absolutely vulnerable.
âwhatâs the natural minor scale pattern?â â âminor diminished major minor minor major major,â he answers, getting the words out as quickly as possible.
this time, instead of wrapping your mouth around him, you reached for the condom you had ready, sitting pretty on your desk, anticipating this moment. his breath hitches as you tear the wrapper open with your teeth, wrapping it on his hard cock, mark practically growling under your touch. you smile sweetly, removing your shorts and crawling into his lap, knees pressing into either side of his hips. the heat of your soaked underwear brushing against his cock makes him hiss through his teeth.
he canât take it anymore.
âwhat are the chromatic intervals?â â âminor, diminished and augmented intervals,â he whispers, barely hanging on.
âgood boy,â you praise him as he breathes heavily under you. pushing your panties to the side, you lined him against your entrance. his breath catches, fingers finding your hips as you start to sink down onto him, inch by inch, teasing slowness, warm and tight until heâs fully buried inside you. his cock stretched you just right. a strangled moan escapes both of your lips.
âholy shit,â a low, wrecked sound escapes his throat, as he grips your hips tightly, trying his best not to unload right there, âthank you,â he trembles, breathing shakily.
he was obviously not going to last long. and it was so extremely hot. you discard the flashcards as you rolled your hips once, slow and deep, each movement designed to drive him out of his mind. markâs hands are everywhere now, on your back, thighs, gripping your ass as he helps guide your motion, pushing up into you with desperate need. everytime you drop your hips, he lets out another choked curse, eyes glued to the way your body moves against his. you feel his cock twitch inside you, a telltale sign that he was incredibly close to coming undone.
âyou gonna cum for me?,â you whisper against his ear, teeth gently grazing the lobe. he nods frantically, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. heâs never felt this kind of pleasure before, the kind that makes him lose absolutely all sense of logic, just nodding like he was some sort of yes-man.
â-fuucck kitten, yes, d-donât stop, p-pleasee,â his whines encourage you, dragging your hips in a deep circle that has you both gasping. it doesnât take long. the tension youâve built the entire session finally snaps as he groans your name, hands clutching you, hips buckling up hard, coming with a gasp buried into your neck.
you donât stop bouncing. continuing to fuck yourself into his cock, rubbing your own clit.
âk-kitten, it hurts,â he whines. you block all of his pleas of stops, all of his whimpers, the way heâs fully crying out, fingers gripping his own hair, until your thighs are shaking, orgasm taking over, a loud moan slipping from your lips as you cling to him, both of you gasping, bodies slick and trembling.
you absolutely wrecked him â markâs vision blacks out for a minute too long. his arms loosely wrapped around you as he tried to catch his breath. hair sticking to his skin. that was the best fucking orgasm heâs ever had and heâs had a lot.
and just like the past two tutoring sessions, mark was out the door as soon as he got dressed and it doesnât get any better than this.
ááᢠapril 11. friday.
mark enters the universityâs basketball court, searching for your frame. youâd texted him to meet you here, a lot earlier than the usual tutoring session. the court was empty, echoing slightly and he spots you instantly, sitting on the bleachers with a book in your hand â he wonders what todayâs game is, a little worried about the public location you chose.
âhey dude,â he redirects your attention to him, âare we about to indulge in exhibitionism?,â he teases, an eyebrow going up.
you laugh, closing your book. âno mark, we canât have sex today,â offering him a sheepish smile.
he looks at you like you just delivered the worst news he could ever hear, âis everything okay?,â he asks, taking a seat next to you.
you nod, âeverythingâs fine, iâm just on my period,â you say casually, turning toward him.
his eyes widen slightly in acknowledgment before a grin breaks out of his face, âyou knowâŚ,â he leans in, whispering, like you werenât the only two people in this room right now, âa period only stops a sentence,â he teases.
you roll your eyes, lightly shoving his face away, ânu-uh mark lee, no way,â you say crashing all his dreams of period sex down the drain, a light smile on your lips.
âwhy not?, i heard somewhere, it helps with all the cramps and stuff,â he continued, still trying to convince you.
âiâm on my second day, everythingâs too messy,â you say flatly, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. ââanyways thatâs not why weâre here,â you rise from the bleachers, grabbing one of the basketballs on the side and tossing it to him.
mark catches it easily, âweâre gonna play basketball?â, he asks, a brow raising.
âyup, i read somewhere that physical activity helps with memory retention, so weâre gonna play a game while i tutor you,â you explain, standing a little below the hoop.
âyou can play basketball?,â he asks, clearly amused, as he starts dribbling the ball in front of you.
âiâm no co-captain of the basketball team or anything but iâve got a few moves,â you reply, stealing the ball from him with a cheeky grin, âandâŚif you win, you get to choose what we do during the next session.â
his brow raises, a smirk on his face, mind already racing of things he wanted to do to you. he could have you in his lap as he fingers you until you cry for him. he could have you bent over your desk as he fucks into you. he could spend the whole day eating you out. the possibilities were endless.
âalright,â he says, already feeling competitive, âgame on.â
mark dribbles lazily as he awaits your question. you narrow your eyes, âthe classical era dates are?â
mark answers quickly, â1750-1820,â like it was a piece of cake. he really is getting better at paying attention in class.
âcorrect. take the shot.â he does and it bounces off the rim, a curse slipping from his lips. you catch the ball with a grin.
âthe romantic era dates are?,â you ask, already dribbling towards the other side. mark gets the answers correct again as you ducked under his arm, tossing the ball into the net.
âokay, showoff,â he mutters playfully, jogging to grab the ball. the game goes on for a solid fifteen minutes. the two of you jogging back and forth. you call out questions, dates, composers, and mark fires back with surprisingly accurate answers. it was a good game between friends, a good session between a tutor and her student.
mark was winning now with several points ahead of you. he hasnât missed a single shot since the first one, while you were just getting lucky every time you made the ball in your net. he canât help but find it adorable though â the way your face would light up every time you made a shot. the way you would do a mini celebration, a happy little dance. it was so different from your usual serious, focused, studious side. this side of you is loose, giddy, warm and heâs having way more fun than he expected to.
âalright,â you say breathless but still trying to keep up with him, âdates of the modernââ
you donât get to finish your question. a sudden wave of pain crashes through your abdomen, so sharp it knocks the air right out of you. you double over mid-step, the ball slipping from your hands and bouncing off to the side, a yelp coming slipping from your lips.
âw-whatâs wrong?!,â mark practically bolts to your side as you inhale, trying to catch your breath.
âsorry, just a really bad cramp,â you say, shutting your eyes as the pain traveled all throughout your body. he watches you for a second or two, eyes scanning your figure, registering the pain before he closes the distance, crouching in front of you. he has no idea what to do. heâs never dealt with a girl on her period before. his hands hover for a moment before resting gently at your sides, fingertips against your lower abdomen in slow circles.
you flinch, surprised at his touch, âwhat are you doing?â
âdonât massages help?,â he asks softly, big brown eyes filled with worry. his touch is careful, like heâs afraid of making it worse. you donât have the heart to tell him it doesnât really help, not with cramps this intense. still, the gesture alone tugs something warm in your chest. so for a moment you just let yourself sink into it, leaning against his chest for support like itâs the most natural thing in the world. your head rests there, tentative at first, then heavier. itâs a moment of vulnerability you havenât shown anyone for a long time â not since your ex made you feel like needing comfort was a flaw, like softness was a burden.
mark stills when you rest against him, almost like heâs holding his breath. then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you, careful and steady, not sure if any of this is okay. he doesnât say anything, just holds you, warm and solid, his chin brushing the top of your head as you breathe through the pain. no teasing, no jokes, no snide remarks â just quiet presence.
eventually, you gently pull back, and he feels himself straighten as if waking from a trance. âi think i have to cut the tutoring session short today,â you say apologetically.
âkitten, donât even worry about that,â he says immediately. the nickname â usually tossed around with a grin, lands softer now. you donât think too much about it, brushing off the feeling as soon as it came.
slowly, you got up from the floor, pushing through the lingering pain, âiâm gonna go home and die now,â you say with a weak laugh. he chuckles quietly, standing with you.
âiâll walk you home,â he offers and you turn it down immediately.
âitâs okay, mark,â you make your way back to the bleachers, gathering your things. âiâm a big girl,â you add, slinging your bag over your shoulder, âi can take care of myself,â you shoot him a smile as he follows you out the court.
âyou sure?,â he asks, eyes scanning your face like heâs still not convinced.
âyeah,â you say gently, âthank you, though. i'll see you on monday,â you lean up and press a light kiss to his cheek, quick, grateful. then you turn to leave, not waiting for his response.
behind you, he stays still on the court, watching your figure walk away like heâs not quite ready to let the moment end. the kiss on the cheek lingering on his skin.
once he got back to the dream house, mark still canât help but wonder if you were okay. heâd showered, changed, even tried zoning out to whatever song was playing through his speakers but his thoughts kept circling back to you. the image of you doubling over in pain, your face twisting as you tried to play it off, like it was nothing, kept replaying in his head like a song stuck on loop.
and he hated it â hated seeing you hurt. hated the way you pretended it wasnât a big deal. hated the way you apologized for needing a break and absolutely hated the way you waved him off, like his concern was too much.
he told himself it was normal. this was normal. he is your friend. itâs normal to be worried about your friends. thatâs allowed.
when he walked into the living room and found jaemin sprawled across the couch, glued to his phone and jeno halfway through a protein bar, he didnât stop to think before blurting out, âwhat do you do when angel and bunny are on their periods?â
the question dropped like a brick. jaemin blinked, his gaze dropping from his phone to mark, âuhh why?,â he asks, a curious grin on his face.
mark shrugs, flopping down onto the couch ânothing, just curious.â
there was a beat of silence, then jaemin replied, âwell, angelâs gonna murder me for saying this but she gets needyâŚwants me glued to her side the whole time with extra cuddles and kissesâŚheating pads are a must,â jaemin chuckles, âoh and sex helps too,â he says with a wink.
mark huffed a quiet laugh, âwhat about bunny?,â he turns to jeno.
jeno choked on his water, âuhâwhat? bunny and i donât have sex,â he says flustered.
mark eyes him suspiciously, âyeah, i know. thatâs not what i meant,â he says slowly, âi mean sheâs your best friend and youâve known her since forever right, you should know what sheâs like on her period?,â he asks, a playful grin on his lips.
âoh..right,â jeno mutters, âuhm sheâs the complete opposite, she locks herself in her room like sheâs going into hibernation mode, she just texts me with a list of snacks she wants and i leave those at her door and leave,â he explains.
mark chuckled, but it faded quickly. his mind was racing with a million thoughts of how he could make you feel better. what were you like? did you want to be left alone? did you want snacks? cuddles?...is cuddling even allowed?
jaemin tilted his head, studying him. âwaitâŚis this about your girl?â
mark blinked, âsheâs not my girl.â
jeno gave him a long, skeptical look.
âsheâs really not!,â mark repeated, more defensively this time, âweâre just friends and i care about my friends well being, okay? thatâs all,â he convinces himself more than he does them. before they could say anything else, mark stood up, headed for the door.
â˘
when your phone buzzed, you squinted at the notification from your cocoon of blankets, blinking away the throb of cramps that hadnât quite given up yet.
mark: hi friend
mark: iâm outside
mark: just want to make sure youâre okay lol
you hesitated, considering pretending to be asleep but something in you tugged toward the door. that soft, stubborn part that wanted not to feel alone tonight. curse these hormones. you cracked it open to find him there, hoodie half zipped, a plastic grocery bag in hand.
âhi,â he said, a little breathless, âi brought you some things.â
you opened the door wider, letting him in, âi told you i was okay.â
âi know but as your friend i had to make sure,â he practically shoves the bag in your hand as you inspect whatâs inside. the bag was filled with different kinds of snacks, chocolates, candies, and three boxes of heat patches.
you took the heat patches out and raised a brow, âthree?â
âlisten,â he said, flopping lightly on your couch, âjaemin said they were âa mustâ and i panicked,â he says casually and you couldnât stop the small smile that crept up. itâs been a while since the last time youâve let anyone do anything for you.
âthank you,â you breathe, the words soft and sincere, stripped of your usual teasing edge. the smile you give him isnât your usual sly smirk either, itâs quieter, gentler and it makes something in markâs chest flutter unexpectedly. he looks at you a second too long, heartbeat catching like itâs suddenly forgotten how to work properly.
minutes later, the snacks were spread out on your coffee table, a heating patch working its magic under your hoodie and to all the boyâs i've loved before playing on your t.v. mark sits beside you, a careful few inches of space between your bodies. he didnât try to fill the silence, didnât try to cheer you up with jokes or distractions. he was just there â steady and warm and quiet.
when the credits roll, he finally speaks, voice low, âyou know,â he says, glancing over at you with a soft smile, âfor someone who doesnât believe in love, i wasnât expecting you to put on a romcom,â he turns his body towards you as you sat end to end on the couch.
you laugh, shifting slightly under the shared blanket, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a tired smile, âplease, your favorite movie is spidermanâŚdo you believe heâs real?â
âhow do you know spidermanâs my favorite movie?,â he asks, a light smirk on his face.
âsophomore year, film elective class, you were totally geeking, practically bouncing up and down next to me,â you remind him, exaggerating the detail a tiny bit.
mark huffs a laugh and nudges your knee with his, âok but itâs differentâŚspiderman is a fantasy character.â
âexactly,â you say, your voice softening, âso is love.â
the words arenât bitter. justâŚmatter-of-fact. like something long accepted and carefully folded away.
mark turns his head toward you, studying your face in the dim glow of the screen. shadows play across your features, softening the hard lines you've spent building â he thinks back to the first time you met during freshman year orientation. you were the first person heâd ever talked to, bouncing up to him in a soft blue sundress and a smile too big for the room. you introduced yourself with sparkles in your eyes, asking him if he believed in soulmates, like that was a completely normal ice breaker. you were glowing then, all wide-eyed and wonder. all heart. spilling stories about your high school boyfriend like love was the most natural thing in the world. he hadn't even told you his name yet, and there you were, already peeling yourself open for him, talks of forever from your pink lips. you were all blush-colored hope and reckless honesty. he remembered thinking you were kind of intense. too trusting. overly romantic. he hadnât understood the way your whole world seemed to spin on the axis of love.
now, years later, that sparkle has been replaced by a colder fire, a guarded kind of strength heâs grown used to. the kind that keeps everyone at armâs length. the kind that never letâs anyone close enough to see where it hurts. your smile â once easy and disarming, has taken a brittle edge, still beautiful, but sharpened by something heavy and unspoken. you don't talk about soulmates anymore. you don't talk about love at all, not unless you're tearing it down.
he noticed the change during the last semester of freshman year. people whispered about your breakup, but no one knew the details. just that it ended and something in you shifted. like someone had quietly reached inside and flipped a switch â it became more evident when even the way you dress has changed. your light, gentle dresses were replaced by blacks and deep reds, structured silhouettes that made you look untouchable. strong. sharp. sometimes he wonders if youâre hiding behind those clothes or they just mirror whatâs leftâŚhe wonders when exactly the world taught you to stop believing in forever.
âwhat made you say that?,â he asks finally, voice low, careful not to press too hard but needing to understand.
you hesitate, eyes not meeting his just yet. debating whether its safe to give this piece of yourself away. and maybe it was the vulnerability of the night. maybe it was your hormones messing with your brain, like youâll tell yourself later. but right now, you find yourself answering him.
âitâs justâŚâ you exhale, like the words are caught in your chest, âlove doesnât last. people swear itâs forever and then suddenly, itâs not. one day youâre holding hands and dreaming together, you have a ring on your finger and the next theyâre telling you that youâre too much. too needy,â you blink slowly, memories flickering behind your eyes, âthat he only loved me because it was easy. and the second it got hard, he left.â
mark stiffens beside you, âyou were engaged?,â he asks, surprise threading through his voice.
âshocking, right?,â you force out a dry laugh, bitter around the edges, âi almost fell for the scam.â your voice is steady, each word carefully measured, telling the story without letting it touch you. but your eyes betray you, they've gone distant, unfocused, like youâre watching a memory you wish you could turn off. thereâs a smile on your lips but itâs all muscle memory. empty. the kind of smile people put on when theyâre used to pretending they're fine.
markâs jaw tightens. thereâs a sharp flare of protectiveness in his chest, something hot and furious aimed at the ghost of a man heâs never met.
you continue, voice barely above a whisper, âso yeah, spider-man, love, same categoryâŚfiction.â
the silence that follows is thick, heavy, but mark doesnât rush to fill it. he sits in it with you, lets it stretch out between the two of you without trying to clean it up. the pain in your voice isnât loud, but itâs there â woven through your words like thread through fabric. he doesnât throw some cliche about how the right person will come along. does not insult you with hollow optimism that people usually responded with. he doesn't try to talk you out of your truth or tape over a wound he can't even see the full shape of.
instead he nudges your knee again, gentler this time. a small touch, reassuring.
âi donât think youâre too much,â he says quietly, the words careful and real, ânot even a little.â
you look at him then. you donât say anything for a while, neither does mark. and heâs not sure if that was something he was even allowed to say. youâve built so many walls that even kindness feels like trespassingâŚthen, in true fashion, you break the weight with a teasing smile, âwhoâs your favorite spiderman anyway?,â you ask.
the shift it so perfectly timed, so you, that it makes mark huff a laugh. he knows its your way of giving you both room to breathe again and he's grateful for the shift.
âtobey,â mark says with zero hesitation.
you groan dramatically, hands flying to your face, âno way, everyone who says theyâre favorite spiderman is tobey is blinded by nostalgia! his spiderman was a creepy stalker!,â you argue passionately.
you lower your hands just in time to see mark laughâŚreally laugh. the kind that crinkles his eyes and pulls a genuine sound from his chest and it makes something bloom in yours.
âokay well, whoâs yours then?,â he asks playfully. âandrew.â
he scoffs, ânope, his peter parker was great but his spiderman was not âspidermanningâ at all!,â he argues back, the made-up word slipping out so confidently it makes your brows lift.
you roll your eyes, a smile on your lips, âi didnât say i liked him for the spiderman of it all.â
âoh?â he says, eyes gleaming with curiosity, âthen what?â
you shrug, slow and teasing, âheâs the prettiest oneâŚand,â you lean in a little closer, mark watching you, âi like looking at pretty things.â
his smile falters for a split second, eyes flicking to your lips.
âdo you now?,â he murmured, voice lower now, the space between your faces shrinking by the second.
âmhm,â you mutter and then, without overthinking it, you close the space and kiss him softly, slowly, carefully, like testing the weight of something fragile, unsure if itâs meant to be held at all. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. itâs not like any of the others youâve shared before â not playful, not messy, not reckless. this one feels like stepping into something unknown.
it doesnât last long. just a few seconds. just lingers enough to feel real.
when you finally break apart, neither of you speaks right away, just looking in each otherâs eyes like you unlocked something dangerous. the stillness lingers, dense and a little too loud.
you're the one to break it, typical you, peeling the weight away with a crooked smile, âiâm still not down for period sexâ you tease. he forces himself to laugh, trying to push away the tension that lingered in the air.
âfair enough,â mark says, standing slowly, âyou should rest anyway and maybe lay off the tobey slander,â he says.
you laugh softly, leaning your head against the couch cushions as you watch him move around your apartment like he belongs here, âiâm right about him.â
he chuckles, grabbing his phone and keys, âtext me if you need anything, seriously. even if itâs just to complain about life,â he says warmly, a small smile visible on his features.
âthanks for tonight, mark,â you say as you get up, stretching your limbs and walking him to your door.
he pauses in the doorway, like he wants to say something else, but instead he just nods, âof course, thatâs what friends do.â
and then he leans in again, placing a soft kiss on your temple. his voice is quieter this time, almost tender, âgoodnight, kitten.â
you freeze, just for a second, but your response comes automatically, âgoodnight, markâ
and with that, heâs gone, the door closing with a soft click. youâre left in the quiet and for the first time in a long time, your apartment doesnât feel quite so lonely. and still, despite the warmth lingering on your lips, despite the comfort of knowing someone cares, there it is, crawling up your spine and tightening in your chest â fear.
â˘
the walk back to the dream house was quiet. markâs hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his arms but the cool night air doesnât do much to ease the heat still lingering in his chest. the night loops in his head like an endless record.
the kiss. heâs never been kissed like that. like it was more than two lips touching, chasing the lust.
that kiss was cautious. it had weight. like it had been carved out of something deeper, something neither of you knew how to name. he was sure of it. itâs the way you looked at him, like you completely trusted him, even for just a second. and maybe it didnât last. maybe youâll wake up tomorrow and bury it under sarcasm and boundaries. but that lookâŚthat look is stuck under his skin now.
he exhales slowly, staring down at the sidewalk. his footsteps echoing in the quiet â you were vulnerable tonight. he knows that. he could feel it in the way you curled in on yourself when the cramps got bad, the cracks between your jokes, that look in your eyes when you talked about your ex. mark noticed it all. thatâs the problem. because he doesnât know what the kiss meant or if it even meant anything at all. maybe it was just comfort. a soft, fleeting thing you reached for in the moment. maybe youâll wake up and decide it wasnât real. if thatâs the case, heâll happily play along, laugh it off, bury it.
but his chest still feels tight. he canât wrap his head around the fact that you said love was a fantasy. and you still kissed him that way. like he mattered. like he was more than just your friend, more than just a body in your bed.
his mind is all over the place. thoughts going back and forth. he swallows hard, jaw tightening. all this thinking wasnât supposed to happen. you were never supposed to mean anything. for godâs sake, he was the one who said that you couldnât fall in love with him with. he meant it, too. back then, it felt like the safest thing to say. a wall, not just for you but for him, too.
he doesnât do love. heâs always been good at lines. at keeping things in neat boxes. clean. uncomplicated. no drama. bodies, not hearts. moments with no meaning, only pleasure. he knows how to care just enough to make it feel good and not enough for it to matter. heâs practiced, efficient, detached.
but something about tonight is cracking through that. and heâs not sure heâs ready to face it.
ááᢠapril 14. monday.
when mark entered your apartment, he hadnât known what to expect. heâd spent the entire weekend mentally pacing, replaying friday night over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every breath between you. and then heâd forced himself to stop. to push any thoughts of you away, telling himself it didnât mean anything.
but still, when you opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest like it hadnât gotten the memo.
then you smiled, that same guarded expression, the one that never quite reached your eyes. you looked the same you had last week, composed, cool and out of his reach. he knew right then, that he was right. that moment was fleeting and completely over. erased.
âhey, earth to mark lee, you there?,â you wave your hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daydream.
âyeah, sorry, what was the question?,â he asked, blinking.
âdang dude, you werenât lying when you said sex helps you focus,â you tease him. today was another no sex session, seeing as you were still on your period.
he chuckles, letting out a groan and burying his face in your pillows, âi canât belive god gave you periods, this has been the longest week of my life.â
you sat cross-legged on your bed, mark sprawled out beside you, âi told you i can always give you a blowjob.â
his nose scrunches up, peeking at you from the pillow, âno. not after your last blowjob session.â
âit wasnât that bad,â you feigned innocence.
âkitten,â he deadpanned, lifting his head to glare at you, âyou edged me so hard, i cried.â
âand?â you grinned, shameless, âdidnât it make the orgasm like 10x better?â
âat what cost, though?,â he asked dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, âi saw my soul leave my body.â
you laughed, reaching over to poke his side, âbut you survived.â
âbarely,â he muttered, rolling his eyes, sitting up, facing you now, âyou really enjoy tormenting me, donât you?â
âonly when you make it so easy,â you said sweetly, âbesides, you didnât complain that much.â
mark let out a long exaggerated sigh, head tilted towards you, âyouâre lucky i like you.â
it slipped out carelessly. there was a beat of silence. the two of you holding your breaths at the words he uttered out.
for a second, neither of you moved. mark cursed himself internally. really? now? after a weekend of telling himself it meant nothingâŚhe says that? out of all the things he couldâve said? he really needed to get better at thinking things out before saying them.
the memory of friday night replays in your mind. the slow kiss, the quiet way you looked at each other, the parts of yourself you werenât supposed to show. you didnât know why you let it happen but you did. what you do know is that you crossed a line and you had to make things clear.
you shifted slightly, voice coming out softer than before, âlisten, markâŚabout friday night,â you bring up and you feel him freeze slightly.
âi really am grateful for the snacks and having a friend there butâŚ,â you hesitated, searching for the right words, âi was all up in my period feelings and did some stuff i usually wouldnât...â
you glanced at him, âif that makes sense?â
âno, i get it,â he said quickly, too quickly. âdonât worry i didnât read too much into it,â he lies.
âcool,â you said, giving him a sheepish smile, âsoâŚweâll just forget about it?â
he ignores the way you canât say the word kiss. he ignores the way he canât bring himself to say that word either. both of you dancing around the âstuffâ that happened.
he looked at you for a beat, then cracked a grin, âforget about what?â
you chuckle, shoving his shoulder and reaching out for your notes, resuming the session like nothing happened. like your heart hadnât skipped a beat. like his hadnât just cracked a little more under the pressure of pretending.
before the silence could settle over you, you change the topic, âyou know, you kinda remind me of peter parker.â
mark raises an eyebrow, amused, âoh yeah? how?â
you lean back, teasing, âyouâre always acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders but somehow manage to crack a joke when it counts.â
this surprises him a little bit. he hadnât realized how much you could actually see through him during these past tutoring sessions. how close youâd been paying attention. he doesnât dwell on it, afraid of what other feelings it may unlock.
âi didnât know i was that dramatic,â he finally says, playing it off with a small laugh.
âyouâre not,â you say, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, âbut you carry more than you let on.â
mark looks away, lips pressing into a faint line. he wants to keep the mood light, to make another dumb spiderman joke but your words hit a little too close. and that unsettles him more than he cares to admit. he clears his throat, âwell, does that make you mj or gwen?,â he flirts.
you smirk, âneither. i'm your guy in the chair.â
mark laughs, eyes crinkling, âyou mean like ned?â
âexactly. reliable. sarcastic. smarter than you and absolutely not dying in anyoneâs tragic love arc.â
âbold of you to assume,â he says with a grin, shaking his head. you grin back, flipping a page in your notebook. you go back to explaining the notes in front of you and he listens, nodding at the right times.
on the surface, everything settles back into easy rhythm â banter and bullet points. but under all the teasing and laughter, one thing stayed unspoken. neither of you had really forgotten. not even a little.
ááᢠapril 16. wednesday.
to say mark was excited was a complete understatement. clearing things up with you absolutely helped, he wasnât left wondering the maybeâs. he blamed the momentary feeling on that night and it was done. explained. buried deep in a box somewhere.
today was all about his reward and he was absolutely ecstatic. heâd been counting down to this ever since your little basketball game ended in his favor. he knew exactly what he wanted as soon as the proposition was brought up. this was his moment â his perfect payback for that blowjob that ended in tears and torment.
so when you asked him what he wanted and he replied with, âi want to cut tutoring short today and have my way with you,â you had no other option but to oblige.
which is how you ended up here now, seated between his legs, thighs parted, panties long gone. your slick glistened in the warm light of your bedroom, a blindfold wrapped securely around your head â completely open, completely at his mercy. the cloth stays firm over your eyes, heightening every sense. you feel everything. his breath on your shoulder, the heat of his thighs beneath yours, the stillness between touches. you sat there, waitingâŚthen you felt it.
something cool and slender lightly tracing along the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, legs twitching at the unexpected contact, âwhat is that?â
mark hums thoughtfully, as if considering the question, âjust something i found lying around.â
it moves again, gliding upward, skimming where you needed him most. he circles the object around your clit without pressure, ghosting enough to make you clench. you shift your hips, trying to chase the feeling, but heâs already pulling it away.
âmark,â you grit out, jaw tightening.
âshh,â he murmurs, nibbling on your ear, âlet me enjoy my reward.â you swallow hard, heat pooling in your stomach. you were sure this torture was going to last forever and you knew he was doing this on purpose. teasing you to the edge, just like you did to him.
the thing, whatever it is, drags lightly over your folds now, collecting wetness as it goes, âso fucking wet and i havenât even touched you yet,â he whispers beside you, making goosebumps rise throughout your neck. youâre about to snap a snarky remark when his fingers suddenly replace the object, two of them sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness, pressing just enough to build pressure but not nearly enough to satisfy.
âfuck,â you gasp, fingers clutching his thigh as your hips jerked. he lets you have his digits, inserting two of his fingers and curling them just where you need him the most but before you can even enjoy it, he pulls back.
you whine as he withdraws, leaving you empty and throbbing, âweâre just starting, kitten,â you hear the smirk in his voice and itâs absolutely annoying â to be vulnerable this way and have no control.
mark brings the mystery object back, the cool tip sliding up your folds again, this time more deliberately. you squirm, desperate for friction. the blindfold has turned your entire body into a nerve â every inch sensitive, every second unbearable. then you feel his hands again, large and warm, settling on your thigh, the other slipping into your shirt and gliding up your torso, fingers leaving a blaze of fire until he reaches your breast.
you inhale sharply when his fingertips ghost over one nipple, already peaked and begging for attention, âyouâre always so sensitive here,â his voice cuts through the silence, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier. his thumb brushes over the bud, a whine slipping from your lips. he has you memorized by now. the little ticks that turn you on. which was a lot for mark, considering most of his past sexual partners had only been for one night.
something brushes over your nipple â cool, round, smooth. youâre not sure if its the same object and itâs driving you insane, âwhat the hell is that?,â you ask, your voice breathless. mark doesnât answer this time, just littering kisses along your neck, letting the object speak for him. it circles your nipple slowly, deliberately, then he flicks it lightly, sharp enough to make you gasp and arch forward, your head resting against that space between his neck. his free arm comes up to your waist, keeping you locked against him.
âyouâre not allowed to squirm yet,â he murmurs near your ear, voice thick with satisfaction. he switched to your other breast, teasing it with that same cold precision. the contrast between your flushed skin and the chill of the object is enough to make your toes curl. you needed more.
you writhe, frustrated, âmark, please,â you beg for somethingâŚanything.
âshhh kitten,â he soothes, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, âbe patient.â
his mouth returned to your neck, warm and wet, while the mystery object rolled lazily across your breast. your aching cunt left throbbing and dripping. you feel the hard press of his cock through his sweats and still he makes no move to satisfy either of you. he trails lower, teeth grazing your shoulder and just when you think the cold object might return to your nipple, it doesnât.
instead, his fingers return, sliding down your slick folds. two strokes. three. then gone again.
âmark,â you gasp, body twitching under the restraint of his arm. you canât think of any other word but his name â so caught up in the thrill of it all.
âyou keep saying my name like iâm gonna feel bad,â he says with a chuckle, âiâm just repaying you.â then he brings the cold object down again, dragging it teasingly along your inner thigh before brushing it just over your clit, making you shudder in his hold, as he smirks behind you.
âkitten, you wanna know what iâve been using?,â he whispers, smug and quiet. you nod quickly, barely able to breathe. he brought it up in front of your face, knowing full well you couldnât see it and said, clearly amused, âyour pen.â
you groan, âthereâs no way it feels that good,â you managed to say. he just laughed quietly, brushing your hair back from your face, âthe power of a blindfold,â he whispers. you barely had time to process his words before he was shifting behind you, leaving you sitting on your bed alone. a mixture of confusion, excitement and slight fear at the thought of what he has planned.
mark makes his way around, standing at the foot of your bed as he watches, loving the way you had no idea whatâs coming to you. his hand makes contact with your shoulder, making you jump slightly as he pushes you down to your sheets, your back making contact with your soft pillows. you sucked in a shaky breath, wonder traveling throughout your body. then he hovers over you, kissing the hollow of your throat as he carefully pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere, exposing your tits to the cool air. he lets his tongue graze, tracing a path down the center of your chest until his lips find your nipple again. you gasped as his mouth closed around it, sucking, warm and wet. the suction paired with the flick of his tongue in a rhythm that made your spine arch.
âfucking perfect,â he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing before he soothed the sting with another kiss. his hand moved to the other breast, thumb circling lazily around the peak, squeezing just enough to make your hips buck.
but he didnt move lower, âyou like being edged, donât you?,â he whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction.
you whimpered, nodding, desperate, frustrated.
âuse your words, kitten,â mark demands.
âyes,â you gasped, âplease, mark, justâ,â your plea broke off into a cry when his mouth trailed lower, down your stomach, leaving goosebumps behind. he stopped just above your mound, breathing you in like you were the only thing in the world.
âyou smell like heaven,â he praises. then his hands gripped your thighs, firm and possessive, pulling you open further â his mouth on you in a second, hot, wet and needy. his tongue dragged through your folds slowly, deliberately. one long, teasing lick. then another, circling your clit, keeping you on the edge. you moaned, loud and desperate, your hand flying to his hair instinctively. he groaned at the contact, encouraged. finally, he gave your clit the attention it had been begging for, flicking, sucking, licking until your thighs were trembling.
and just when your stomach starts to clench â he pulls back.
ânoâ,â you gasped, âdonât stop, pleaseââ
but he had already moved his mouth, licking the inside of your thigh, soothing and tortuous all at once.
ânot yet,â he said, voice dark and patient, âyou donât get to come until i say so.â
you could cry from how badly you needed him. he was relentless, bending your body to his rhythm, his pace. his tongue returned, more insistent now, fingers slipping inside you this time, curling just right and every time that heat started to spiral, his mouth would pull away, his rhythm would slow and the wave would slip just out of reach.
it was torture â delicious, devastasting torture.
your breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. the blindfold making it worse. every sound, every touch, every breath he took, every swipe of his tongue felt magnified. and mark was loving every second of it. the way he had all control under his fingertips.
âyou keep sucking in my fingers,â he murmured, voice thick with arousal. âyou wanna cum that badly, kitten?â
you nod furiously, broken whimpers slipping past your lips, your pride long gone. then you felt it again. that same, cool rounded object from earlier. your pen.
he dragged the tip of it along your folds, now slick and pulsing from his touch, watching the way your legs twitched with each pass, âbet youâll never look at this thing the same again,â he whispered near your hip. the pen collects your dripping arousal, âsuch a mess,â he breathes out, tongue surprisingly latching onto your folds again, sucking your juices. you whimpered as he slides a finger inside you again, slower, deeper, making you feel every second of it.
âyou feel how close you are?,â he asked, voice gravelly, dangerous. you nodded frantically, choking on a breath only for him to pull back again.
âmark, please, iâm sorry,â you cry out desperately. wanting so bad to finally be relieved. the edging was too much. your clit was throbbing so painfully and you needed him so badly. he leaves you untouched for a second too long, watching you squirm for him.
then with absolutely no warning, mark slaps his hard cock against your cunt, making you moan out in pleasure. he slides his member up and down your wet folds, teasing your entrance and for a moment you donât even care that heâs not wearing a condom. his skin felt so fucking good againts yours. you just wanted him inside you. you felt the tip of him nudge against you again. but he didnât push in. he just stayed there, teasing.
you whined, toes curling into the sheets, body arching up, âpleaseâŚ.â
he chuckled, low, quiet, âi love hearing you beg,â he said, his tip brushing over your clit, solid and hot against your slick, âmakes it real tempting to give in.â
âi could take you right now, kitten,â he whispered, voice wrecked with restraint, âyouâd be so good for me, so ready,â he hums against your skin.
you gasped, barely holding onto your sanity, practically sobbing, âplease do it, mark, please i need you,â you were soaked, throbbing, voice breaking with utter desperation â that was all he needed to hear. mark wraps his member and not even a second later he finally thrusts into you, sliding into your hole with ease. your body was so prepared for him, walls completely squeezing around his cock so perfectly, so warm.
he yanks off the blindfold from your face and for a moment the room spins with light and clarity until his brown eyes come into view. your tear-filled eyes meet his and the heat in his steals your breath. he was breathing just as hard as you are. just as worked up. he brings your legs up to your shoulders, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, holding on to him like he was your lifeline. he was in so deeply, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. you were trembling, panting hard, jaw clenching as you fought to keep your eyes open. mark hovered above you, his thrusts unrelenting, his own breath ragged, the heat between you unbearable. you moaned his name like it was the only word youâve ever learned, your voice dissolving into desperate, broken sounds.
âiâm gonnaâmark, iâm gonnaâŚ,â your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into his skin.
ââgo on kitten,â he growled in your ear, voice thick with hunger, âcum for me.â
that was it. the pleasure tore through you like a wave, your whole body arching as your orgasm finally hit you. hard. jaw going slack, vision blurring, eyes rolling back as you practically saw stars. the way your pussy pulsed around him sent mark over the edge, âfuck kitten, such a good girl,â he managed to say in between breaths, before he was groaning in your neck, spilling into the condom. his movements slowed as he rode it out, then he collapsed gently on top of you, both of you shaking, skin slick and flushed.
you stay there for a moment or two, trying to even your ragged breathing. thenâŚlaughter bubbled from your lips. light, uncontrollable, like something cracked open inside you and it sounds like music to his ears.
âwhat?â his head lifted slightly, brows drawn, cock still inside you.
you giggled again, still catching your breath, âh-holy shit, markâ you gasped, eyes glassy with aftershocks, âi donât think iâve ever came that hard before.â
he gave you that crooked, self-satisfied boyish smirk and you almost regret complimenting him. then slowly, he pulled out of you, making your body ache with the sudden absence.
carefully, he brushed the tears from the corner of your eyes, âyou okay though? i wasnât too much?â
your heart tripped in your chest. you hated that it did.
you nodded, keeping it casual, ignoring the way his concern made something twist painfully inside you, âyeah. iâm good.â
he nods, settling beside you as you laid there, still catching your breath, your limbs buzzing, body sore in a satisfying way. mark hadnât moved much either, his arm casually draped over your thigh, chest rising and falling steadily with you. neither of you spoke, but the silence wasnât awkward. it was warm. settled. easy in a way it probably shouldnât have been. it was too dangerous. you needed to break it.
âiâm hungry,â you said, voice still scratchy.
mark glanced over at you, a brow raised, âi just gave you an orgasm of a lifetime and the first thing on your mind is food?â
you gave him a lazy grin, âwe burned a lot of calories from that, we deserve carbsâ
he didnât comment on your use of we. or the way that there was a we now makes his heart skip a beat. but the fact that he liked the sound of a we was far worse. that box he buried somewhere deep inside, suddenly popping up.
âyouâre ridiculous,â he says, forcing out another laugh.
you reached for your phone on the nightstand, âpizza okay with you?,â and he realizes youâre inviting him to stay. youâre not kicking him out like you usually do after a session.
he pushes it a bit further, wanting to see how far this invitation goes âas long as i get to pick the movie this time.â
you narrowed your eyes at him like heâd stepped on thin ice and heâs afraid he pushed it a little too far, misread the moment, until you say, âand what movie are you picking?â
a smile curved his lips as he grabbed his shirt and sweats off the ground, putting it on, âspiderman. obviously,â he says, already making his way to your living room couch.
you blinked at him then grabbed the first clothes within reach, your shorts from the far corner and his hoodie slung over your desk chair, âwhich one?,â you called through your room, putting the clothes on.
âthereâs only one right answer!â
âandrewâs?,â you teased, walking out of your bedroom. he froze for a second. you, in his hoodie, smiling like that. that same smile from freshman year. his brain short-circuited. you were making this whole forgetting thing really hard.
âhope you donât mind,â you said with a small laugh, âi have no idea where you threw my shirt,â you chuckle.
âthatâs fine,â he replied, maybe a little too fast, âand no not andrewâsâ
you snorted, âfine, iâll order pepperoni and you can fangirl over your web-slinging childhood hero,â you smirk, calling papa johnâs.
mark grinned as he turned on the t.v. and started searching for the movie, âhey, thatâs spiderman, protector of new york, thank you very much.â
you settled beside him a few minutes later, pizza box on the coffee table, movie playing, quiet jokes exchanged through bites of crust and cheese. somewhere between tobey maguireâs awkward charm and halfway through the pizza box, the space between you disappeared. this time, there was no gap. no careful leaning away. your thighs brushed his and neither of you moved. neither of you said anything. but maybe, just maybe, you both felt it â that same quiet something that had been growing since that friday night. still unspoken. still unnamed.
and mark realizes that he could get used to this.
ááᢠapril 18. friday.
the door barely clicked shut before mark had his hands on you â rough, needy, all control. he didnât waste a second. not a single hello, not a single warning. his mouth crashed into yours, all hunger and heat, urgent and commanding, steering you straight to the bedroom with the kind of focus only frustration could fuel.
âm-mark, whatâs wrong?,â you managed to ask, concern laced in your voice.
âneed you. now,â he growled, voice low, flat with no room for playfulness. you didnât even make it to the bed. he spun you, yanked your shorts down, shoved you onto your desk chair. one hand ripping open a condom, the other dragging your panties aside and in one swift motion, he was inside you.
you gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping your desk table, not at all prepared for him. there was no easing in, no pause. just raw, relentless need. and he didnât care. he couldnât care. he had too much to burn off. he thrusted in and out of your hole with a desperate rhythm that had you gasping his name between moans. the sound of skin slapping echoing through your bedroom walls.
âfuuuck, kitten, just what i needed,â he groaned, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding on for life. you were sure his fingerprints would mark your skin. he pulls you back onto him with every snap of his hips, like he couldnât get deep enough, couldnât get close enough.
âmark, fuck,â you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. but he didnât slow down. he was absolutely locked in, chest heaving, only focused on reaching that high.
âeverythingâs fucked,â he muttered between gritted teeth, slamming into you hard, âi just needed thisâŚneeded you.â
you felt him twitch inside you, pace stuttering for half a second, just enough to send that familiar heat spiraling through your core. the roughness, the force, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing that mattered â it pushed you straight to the edge. your body tensed, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you. you clenched incredibly tight around him and thatâs all it took.
âshit, iâm cumming,â he groaned, choking on the sound as he slammed in one last time, hips jerking, fingers still digging into your flesh like heâd break without the contact.
for a moment, all that filled the room was the sound of your breathing â heavy, wrecked, uneven. he stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against your back, arms still wrapped around your waist like letting go would make the world crash in again. his breath fanned hot across your skin, heavy and uneven but slowly starting to settle.
you blinked through the haze, heart still racing, legs barely steady beneath you. you turned your head slightly, voice hoarse but gentle, âmark, what was that?â
he didnât answer at first. just exhaled, slow and ragged. then he pulled out with care, discarding the used condom and pulling his sweatpants back up. his hands steady you as he gently placed your panties back in place. he turned you to face him, guiding you to sit, and then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips â soft, slow and achingly tender. the complete opposite of everything that had come before.
âare you okay?,â you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his face, searching for the answers in his eyes. he allowed himself to lean into your touch. almost like he needed it to breathe, eyes fluttering close for a second.
âjeno got in a fight,â he sighs heavily, voice low, almost defeated.
he sank into his knees in front of you, resting his head in your lap. without thinking, your fingers immediately thread through his hair like they belonged there, like this was normal. his arms wrapped around your waist with quiet desperation, âit got recorded, reached the dean in seconds and i had to go clean it up, make sure we donât get shut down,â he says tiredly.
you just listen to him, letting him unravel.
âand finals are on monday, i think iâm readyâŚweâve been studying really well, my quizzes went okay but itâs also my last chanceâŚif i donât pass these classes, i'm off the basketball team.â
his arms tightened around your waist like he was bracing himself.
âitâs just beenâŚa lot, everyone thinks iâve got it all together. they donât even know iâve managed to screw it all upâŚiâm failing my classes, the teamâŚeveryone,â his voice broke on the last word, barely more than a whisper.
his eyes shut again, like he couldnât bear to have anyone see him like this â mark, who was everyoneâs favorite. mark, who always made confidence look effortless. mark, who everyone admired, who never looked tired. mark, who was here, on your bedroom floor, falling apart.
and you realized now just how much heâd been carrying and how alone he must have felt doing it. he was a mirror of your own reflection. so you ask him the one question you wished people asked you.
âdo you want to talk about it?,â you whispered, thumb softly brushing along his cheek.
his jaw tensed beneath your touch and you thought he might pull away. shove the vulnerability back down and wrap himself in that playful charm he wore so easily when you were sitting across from him at study session or tangled up in the sheets. but instead, his shoulders slumped. he starts, voice low and rough, âi thought i could fix it, just grind harder, push through like iâve always been able toâŚbut things just kept stacking up. practices, papers and now this thing with the fraternity.â
youâd seen the cracks, of course. you werenât oblivious. him being late, the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders stay tense no matter how relaxed he tried to seem. but he always played it off and you never pushed.
âi couldnât tell anyone,â he continued, softer now, âiâm the leader, the co-captainâŚi'm supposed to know what to do. everyone leans on me, if i fall apart what happens to the rest of them?.â he lets out a bitter, humorless laugh.
âand i couldnât tell you. youâre already helping me so much with tutoring and the sex and i didnât want to drag you into my shit. especially sinceâŚthis thing between is isnt supposed to include this, right?â
you didnât respond right away because he was right â there were walls between you that needed to stay up. this was supposed to be easy. you were supposed to be each otherâs safe option. the ones who didn't come with emotional trauma. the ones who wouldnât ask for more. the ones who never pried, just notes, flashcards and casual sex without the weight of feelings or expectations.
âweâre still friends mark,â you said gently, âand friends don't let you go through the hard stuff alone.â
your voice was soft, but steady. you offered a small, honest smile and he finally looks up, meeting your eyes, letting himself be seen. he didnât say anything after that, just looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.
you didnât break the gaze, didnât try to fill the silence. you just stayed there, fingers still gently curling in his hair. letting him be here. letting him breathe. and he did â his head rested in your lap, arms still loosely wrapped around your waist like he didnât quite know how to let go. didnât want to let go. you could feel the weight of him, every little thing heâs been holding in, slowly settling.
no one rushed to define what this moment meant. no one tried to make a joke to cut the lingering tension â it was just quiet. stretching between you full of things unsaid. of a certain kind of understanding that didnât need to be spoken out loud. and for now, this was enough.
just two people, sitting in their own wreckage, breathing together, pretending they werenât crossing a line.
eventually, you felt the need to offer him something more than quiet comfort. something normal. something safe.
âwhat do you say, we skip tutoring session for the day and watch spiderman 2, i can order chinese this time?,â you say, finally breaking the quiet.
his eyes flicked up to yours. there was a pause, like the suggestion took a second to land. then slowly, the tension in his face bagan to ease, a smile tugging on his lips, âand what about finals week?â
âmark you know it, youâve gotten every single question right our last two sessions,â you reassure him, âthereâs not a single doubt in my mind youâre going to pass,â you smirked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
that pulled a real breath of relief from him, a soft laugh, muffled against your lap, âweâre watching tobeyâs spiderman 2, right?â
for the rest of the night, there was no tutoring, no expectations, no pressure. just honey walnut shrimp, fried rice, spider-man swinging through new york city and two people, curled up on the couch, who werenât quite sure what they were but certain that this comfort, this closeness, was something they wanted.
ááᢠapril 20. sunday.
mark: dude
mark: [1 image]
mark: saw this and thought of you
kitten: ???
kitten: mark. thatâs just a cat.
mark: she has your eyes!!
kitten: bro đđ
kitten: she looks like sheâs ready to attack u
mark: exactly
mark: just like you! đź
kitten: seek help
kitten: and good luck on your finals markkk
kitten: you're gonna kill it
mark: whatâs my reward if i pass? đŤŁ
kitten: freedom from me đââď¸
kitten: sex with anyone you want! đââď¸đââď¸
kitten: any day you want!! đââď¸đââď¸đââď¸đââď¸
mark stared at your texts, thumbs hovering over the screen, his grin being wiped off â it was exactly the kind of thing youâd say. playful, detached, safe. like he hasnât seen the most vulnerable parts of you. like you havenât seen the worst parts of him.
his stomach churns in a funny way. it didnât hit him until now that passing his classes also meant your tutoring sessions were over. no more flashcards, no more learning each otherâs bodies, no more movie nights and greasy take out foods. no more you.
he set his phone down beside him, letting his head fall back against the pillow. suddenly, the finish line didnât feel like a victory lap. it felt like a goodbye. and sure, you would still be around, he would still see you in passing, on campus, in random parties â you would still be his friend.
the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth. if he was being completely honest, he didnât want to stop seeing you. he didnât want this to end just because the excuse to stay had run out. he wanted to be on your couch, watching spiderman. you still had six of them to go. he wanted the greasy takeout, the shared silence, the casual way your leg would brush against his like it didnât mean everything.
he wanted to keep learning you. your favorite color, your favorite songs, your favorite everything until there was nothing left to learn. and even then, when all the learning is done, he just wanted to be there.
he wanted to be allowed to stay. to be able to wrap his arms around you and not wonder if heâs crossing a line. to show up with all your favorite snacks, and this time he knows what they are. to kiss you and not feel that sick, sinking guilt in his stomach when it meant more to him than it ever should have.
he started typing: what if i donât want freedom from you?
he stared at it for a second. then deleted it.
typed again: sooo i still get to bother you after finals, right?
he deleted that one too.
mark: haha, nice đ
he sighed, tossing his phone face-down onto the bed like that would somehow quiet the tightness in his chest.
your phone buzzed again. his response felt off or maybe it was just all in your head. you shook the thoughts away and turned back to your laptop, reviewing for your own classes.
you werenât going there. you couldn't.
you refuse to be too much again. too needy.
ááᢠapril 21. monday.
when mark stepped out of his last class of the day, he found you immediately, leaning against the wall, a drink in your hand, smiling at him.
before he could even think about it, his feet were already moving, carrying him, each step closing in towards you as he pulled you into a hug. his face nestles in the crook of your neck, a quiet sigh of relief slipping past his lips. he just wanted to stay here for a while. wrapped in the calm only you seemed to bring.
you froze, just for a moment. the hug catches you off guard. youâve never been this touchy in public. you could feel the eyes on you, see a few raised brows in your peripheral vision. still, after a beat or two, you gave in, arms looping around his waist, one hand still gripping the cup of milk tea you got for him.
âit wasnât that bad, was it?,â you murmured near his ear. he chuckles against your neck, the breath of air tickling before leaning back just enough to look at you, his hands still lingering on your hips like heâd forgotten to let go.
âiâm pretty sure i aced it,â he said, all confidence and charm.
you raise a brow, âso why did you just hug me like the world was ending?â
his smirk flickered, replaced by something quieter, heavier âyou said once i passed, this would be over.â
he tried to keep it light, but the words tasted bitter, âfigured, i should take what i can while i still can.â
you push away the feeling rising in your throat, glancing down at the drink in your hand, shoving the emotion aside âhere, i got this for you, a mini reward.â
he takes it with a soft laugh, fingers brushing against yours, just a moment too long. his eyes stayed on you as he took a sip and something about the way he looks at you makes your chest twist â it wasnât supposed to feel like this. not in daylight. not out here, in the open, where it could be mistaken for something real.
âpeople are staring at us,â you murmured, gaze dropping.
he doesnât even glance around them, âlet them.â
you tried to deflect, lips tugging into a smirk âwhat? and ruin your chances with all your girls?â
but he didnât laugh. he didnât play along. didnât take the out this time.
âmaybe i only want one girl.â
the breath caught in your throat. your heart stuttered. you looked up at him, eyes searching, desperate to find some hint of irony, some trace of a grin. anything that would let you write it off.
âhmm,â you force out a chuckle, thin and cracked, âyou? mr. i donât go exclusive,â you teased, your voice barely holding steady.
he smiled, but he didnât deny it. that was when the panic set in.
âi have to go, i still have a class to get to,â and before he could respond, you were already walking away. you didnât look back. you couldnt.
mark stayed where he was for a while, just watching your figure get smaller and smaller, drink in his hand, feeling the warmth of your body still clinging to his skin. people moved around him in chatter, footsteps on concrete, but it all blurred.
he meant it â he didnât just let those words slip for no reason. heâd thought about it all night, maybe longer, and when the words came out, they didnât surprise him. and it didnât surprise him either how quiet you went, how fast you looked away, how quickly you pivoted back to safe ground, barely entertaining the thought.
you were the girl who didnât believe in love. he knew that. and you could continue pretending that this was nothing. you could continue to shove it down with a joke, whatever you needed to do to keep him at armâs length.
but he was done playing along. he wasnât going to pretend anymore.
he wanted you to have all his mondays, wednesdays and fridays. even the tuesdays and thursdays. and every last goddamn saturdays and sundays. if youâd let him.
â˘
markâs words echoes in your ears, clear and sharp and impossible to shake as you lay in your bed, wide awake.
you replay the moment in your head, over and over. the way he held you like you were something to hold onto. the way his fingers didnât let go right away.
the way your heart betrayed you.
you hated how easy it would be to believe him. to want more. to hope. again.
but love had already burned you. already ruined you. it hollowed you out, left you scattered in pieces you barely recognized. you gave and gave until there was nothing left to give and even then, you still tried to be enough. you made yourself smaller, more manageable, easier to love. and you hated it. hated who you became when love took over â clingy, dependent, pathetic, insecure.
the kind of person who lost herself in someone elseâs orbit and called it devotion. the kind of person who mistook being needed for being desired. the kind of person who became the version they needed until the real you felt like a distant memory.
it took everything to rebuild yourself from the wreckage love left behind. you had to learn how to be alone again. how to stop apologizing for needing anything at all. you had to teach yourself to exist without someone elseâs hands holding you together.
you swore to yourself youâd never be that girl again.
but here you are, heart stuttering at a single sentence from a boy who was never supposed to matter this much. all your careful walls cracking, your breath catching, body already leaning toward him like muscle memory.
and even after all the warning signs going off in your head, every scar whispering donât, you canât help but want him.
ááᢠapril 23. wednesday.
there was a knock on your door. you didnât have to look through the peephole to know who it was.
you consider not opening it. pretend you werenât home. an internal conflict going on between your mind and your heart. one half of you aching for him, the other half gripping onto the remaining boundary you had left.
you sigh, dragging your feet across the door, fingers hesitating on the knob.
âkitten, i know youâre there, the light is on,â markâs voice announces through the other door. the nickname didnât feel harmless anymore. it felt like a hand reaching through a door you were trying desperately to seal shut. a reminder of the closeness youâd let happen. the thing you swore wouldnât need again.
âi brought food,â he added, tone lighter this time. like this could be another normal night of movies and food and silence where feelings should go.
you hated how much you wanted it. hated how you unlocked the door and pulled it open, meeting the brown warm eyes that was so dangerous. he was in one of his hoodies that always looked too comfortable, takeout in his arms with an expression that you couldnât quite read. or maybe you didnât want to.
âi thought we could watch spider-man 3, itâs the last tobey one,â he said, raising the food like it was some sort of offering.
you stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in and he walked in like he always did. like he belonged here, in your space. he removed his shoes, placed everything on the coffee table, sat on his side of the couch like everything was normal. like nothing happened. like those words didnât leave his mouth and had you stuck on him ever since. like he hadnât said something too big for this setup you had.
and you let him. you followed the script too. you dimmed the lights, grabbed the blanket from the side of the couch and pulled it over both of your legs, hit play on the movie.
for a while, neither of you said a word. until the movie reached a lull and you realized not a single joke has been said between you. you sneak a look at him only to find he was already looking at you.
âwhy are you looking at me like that?,â you whisper into the night air.
âlike what?,â he deflected, smile barely there.
you raise a brow, giving him a pointed look, but your heart is already thudding, âlike that,â you murmur.
markâs smile fades into something quieter. something real. his eyes didnât leave yours, âmaybe iâm just trying to memorize you,â he said softly, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for days. it was quiet and honest. and it wrecked you.
your chest tightened. heat crept up your neck, blooming beneath your skin, but it wasnât the good kind. it was panic, nostalgia, longing, everything youâd spent years trying to outrun. you blinked fast, trying to swallow the ache, the confusion, the hope. you couldnât hold his gaze.
then his hand moved, gentle, almost afraid, thumb brushing over your thigh, âdoes this really have to end after finals?,â he asked. his voice wasnât playful. there was something almost broken in it. something that wanted more.
you look down at his hand. itâs warm. steady.
you forced your voice into something light, something distant, âwhat do you mean mark?,â you play dumb, âyou can still come over, we can still hang out and watch movies.â
âyou know thatâs not what i mean, y/n,â his voice cut clean through you. he looked at you like you held the whole world and you hated it. because youâve seen that look in someone elseâs eyes before and you remember how that story ended.
âi want you.â he said. heâs always been upfront, the kind of guy who goes for exactly what he wants. honest. no confusion. he wasnât going to stop that just because what he wanted now was a little different than usual.
âânot just the movie nights. i want to be able to kiss you without wondering if iâm crossing the line. i want to hold your hand. i donât want to have to leave.â
you could hear it in his voice, that he meant every word. that he was laying himself bare. your lungs were full of things youâve never said. fears you never voiced.
âdo you want me because you want me,â you whispered, âor because you need me?â
the room went still. mark blinked, caught off guard. his face twisted in confusion. he didnât understand the question. âwhatâs the difference?â
you nodded once, slowly, even though he didnât get it. especially because he didnât get it. that was all the confirmation you needed. the quiet confirmation of every fear you've been carrying. your thoughts spiraled, fast and breathless â he saw you as the person who kept him from falling apart, not the person who could be loved on her own terms. you didnât want to be a need. you wanted to be a choice. wanted to be loved for your fire, your flaws, your silence, your mess. all of it.
you pulled the blanket off, stood up, walked toward the kitchen under the disguise of grabbing water but you really just needed the distance, needed to breathe.
behind you, mark didnât move. the space where youâd just been now empty and echoing. the movie played on, some forgotten scene washing the walls in flickering color, fading into the background. all he could hear was the question that youâd asked. the silence that followed after he said the wrong thing. the way you walked away like you were holding yourself together with a string.
he stood slowly, following you into the kitchen, footsteps soft like he was afraid heâd scare you off if he made too much noise. you were standing there, back to him.
âi didnât mean it like that,â he said, voice low, careful.
when you didnât respond, he continued, âi donât need you like a fix,â he stepped closer, gently, slowly. and then, he lets his confessions stumble into the night air. all of the words heâd been dying to tell you.
âi want you likeâ,â his voice broke slightly, âlike i want to wake up with you next to me, i want to know your favorite things, i want your sarcasm, your bad jokes, i want to be the one you call when your dayâs gone to shit or when someone tells you a funny story and you just have to share it with someone, i want all the parts you hide. thatâs what i meant.â
he was so close now. you closed your eyes and it terrifies you how much you wanted that too.
âiâve been through this before, mark,â you said, barely above a whisper, âi gave someone everything and he only loved me because he needed me, because it was easy at first. not the real me. not the mess. not the scared, guarded, overthinking, too-much me.â
mark stepped closer until there was barely space between you.
ây/n, iâm not him,â he says, voice full of conviction, âlet me prove it. if it takes time, iâll wait. if you need space, iâll give it. but please stop acting like none of this is real, stop acting like this was all just tutoring and sex. donât shut me out because someone else couldnât handle you. because i can. i want to.â
you stared at the floor. every wall youâd built over the years was trembling in your chest, all of them threatening to collapse and you were desperately trying to keep them together. he was saying everything youâd ever needed someone to say. yet you canât find it in yourself to believe him.
your fear was louder than your hope.
âi need space,â you breathed. it was all you could manage. your voice almost gave out on the last word.
mark stilled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then he stepped back. just once. and said, gently, âokay.â
he didnât try to kiss you or hold you or close the space between you with anything physical. and that, more than anything, told you this wasnât about need.
ááᢠapril 25. friday.
the knock came again. you hadnât expected it, your heart climbing straight into your throat.
you hadnât spoken since that night. you told him you needed space and to his credit, he gave it. though as soon as he left you wanted him back. you couldnât even understand your own emotions anymore.
he didnât call. didn't text and even though itâs only been two days â the silence had been deafening.
your hand hovered near the doorknob again, just like it had before. like you were caught in a loop.
ây/n?,â his voice was softer this time. not playful, not teasing, just quiet and raw, âiâŚi got my results.â
you closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and the way he was able to shut down all the other voices in your head.
âi havenât checked it yet,â he added after a beat, âi didnât want to do it alone.â
something in you cracked and you opened the door. mark stood there, phone in hand, eyes tired and bloodshot like he hadnât slept well in days. he didnât step in this time. he just looked at you like he wasnât sure if he was allowed. you didnât say anything. just stepped aside, letting him in. he walked in slowly, like he was afraid he might wake something fragile in the room. you followed him to the couch, sat next to him, close enough to touch but not touching.
he sat with his phone in his palm, screen still black, staring at it.
âjust open it,â you said quietly, finally breaking the silence.
he turned to you, eyes searching, âi canât do it,â he says, handing you the phone âyou open it for me.â
you grab it from him, clicking the schoolâs app and reloading the screen, waiting for the results. the second felt too long, markâs legs anxiously bouncing, you looked up at him with an expression he couldnât read and his throat catches.
then in one second, your grin grew wider, âyou passed!,â you cheered, laughter bubbling from your lips. he hasnât realized how much he missed that sound until now. the past few days have definitely been an emotional turmoil.
mark blinked, âi..i did?,â
you nodded, laughing again, eyes shining, âyou did, mark! look,â you say, shoving the phone in his face.
for a beat, he just stared at you, like he didnât quite believe it. then it all hit him at once, a breath he hadnât realized heâd been holding finally exhaled. relief, pride, disbelief all crashing into his chest in one wave.
and before he could stop himself he pulled you into his lap in a mini victory, both of you laughing, excited, happy. his arms wrapped around you tight, burying his face into your shoulder like this was the only place he ever wanted to be. you hug him just as tight, now straddling him, arms curled around him as you both bask in his victory, your laughterâs harmonizing in the air.
after a few seconds, your body relaxed into his and for the first time in days, it felt easy again, natural. like muscle memory. like this was where you both belonged.
âi knew you could do it,â you murmured near his ear, voice soft. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still holding onto your side like didnât want to let go yet.
and maybe it was the adrenaline in your system. maybe it was the look on his face. or maybe it was the way his hands lingered on your waist. but you didnât think.
you leaned in and kissed him.
it was gentle, like asking a question you werenât sure you wanted the answer to. he kissed you back with no hesitation, no second guessing. just the feeling of your lips in his, warm and certain.
markâs hand cup your jaw like you were something breakable and important all at once. there was a slight tremble in his touch, like he couldnât believe you were letting him this close. terrified that one wrong move would send you running.
the kiss wasnât desperate, it wasnât rushed. it was everything that hadnât been said, missing each other in a way neither of you had admitted.
your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you steady. your body swayed forward without permission, knowing what it wanted before your mind could catch up. his forehead dropped to yours and for a moment, neither of you said anything.
âi missed you,â you whispered, voice shaking. his eyes fluttered shut at the words, something raw flickering across his features. he kissed you again, slow and intentional. like he needed you to feel every unsaid thing he did not know how to say.
the kiss deepened, soft lips parting, breath mingling. his hand moved down, tracing your spine as he pulled you closer and every inch of your body hummed with anticipation. you tugged on his black shirt, tugging it over his head. you helped each other undress with quiet urgency, fingertips brushing skin, lips reconnecting in between.
mark grabs your thighs, gently lifting you up and turning you over to lay you down on the couch. he hovered over you, eyes dragging slowly down the length of your body, memorizing every line, every curve.
âyouâre so beautiful,â he breathed, brushing your hair from your forehead.
your throat tightened.
he trailed kisses over your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder, your breasts. every kiss feeling like a promise. his hands were everywhere, trailing over your waist, the dip of your hip, down your thigh, slow and warm and reverent. he took his time. worshipped every inch like he didn't want to miss a second of this.
he knew exactly where to touch you. knew the spots that ignited that fire in your stomach. he pushes your panties to the side and when his mouth finally found the place between your legs, you gasped, back arching. he groaned at the sound, at the taste of you, gripping your thighs gently, keeping you open for him. he watched your every reaction, paid attention to all of your sinful moans like it was his favorite song. his tongue moved, licking and circling and sucking until you were gasping his name, eyes fluttering shut, legs shaking around his shoulders.
your fingers laced through his, grabbing onto him like he was the last thing keeping you there. and when you came, it hit hard, head thrown back, toes curling. he stayed right there, drawing it out, licking through every wave. he kissed his way back up your body, slow and open mouthed until you pulled him back to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.
âmark,â you whispered, breathless, âbedroom.â
you didnât have to say it again. mark grabbed your thighs, picking you up with ease, his bare chest warm against yours, legs wrapped around him, heartbeat thudding in rhythm with your own as he carried you to your bedroom. the air between you is charged and fragile in a way it had never been before. as soon as your back hit the mattress, you pulled him down to meet you. lips meeting again. but it wasnât like the other times. there was no reckless rush, no frantic need. this kiss was deeper. slower. like he wanted to taste every part of you that had been out of reach until now.
his weight settled over you, grounding, familiar but all too different. he kissed you like he was afraid this might be the last time. touching you like he was memorizing you all over again, not your body, he already knew that â but you.
the way you sighed when his fingers brushed over your hips. the way your breath hitched when his lips settled over that sensitive spot below your ear. the way your hands roamed over his back, curling at the base of his spine like you didnât know how to keep him close enough.
then suddenly, he stopped. bracing himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to yours, âwait,â he murmured, breathing hard, like it physically hurt to not be touching you.
you blinked, disoriented by the sudden break in heat as he curses under his breath, âi-i didnât bring a condomâŚi didnât expect toâ,â
âi-i should have some,â you turned quickly, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand only to find your box of condoms empty.
you looked at him. he looked at you. a beat of silence passing in between you.
his hand found yours, warm brown eyes boring into yours, âwe donât have to.â
âdo you want me?,â your voice cracked a little and thatâs when you realized your throat was tight, feeling more vulnerable than ever.
âof course i do, kitten,â he said, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, âbut i want you, not just this.â
âi want you, too,â you whisper like you were sharing a secret. his breath hitched. whole body stilling. you saw the moment he gave in, the exact second his restraint cracked.
âi-iâll pull out,â he mumbled, still trying to be careful.
âiâm on the pill mark,â you said softly, âyou can stay inside.â something in him faltered, his breath hitched, eyes darkening. he kissed you again, slower than before, more tentative, like he needed to make sure you meant it.
he lines himself up against your core, giving you one last look for confirmation and when you nod, granting him permission, he finally gave in to what you both wanted. he slid into you slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangling. you felt the tremble in his arms, the shudder that worked through him as he sank fully into you â making you feel full, whole, complete.
you both stilled, letting the moment settle.
youâd done this before. countless times. fast, rough, unspoken. but it had never felt like this. this felt like new territory. this felt like falling.
this wasnât about sex. this was about every word youâd left unsaid.
your hands roamed up his back, fingernails grazing over the muscles there and his body responded to every touch, arching into you slightly. you could feel every vein on his cock, every twitch, every pulse. he moved slowly, deeper than he had before, watching your face for every flicker of reaction.
markâs hand came up to brush the hair from your cheek, as he littered kisses from your cheekbones, along your jaw, every inch of skin he could find, âi was made for youâ he whispered.
your chest ached, eyes burned. you didnât know what to do with those words so instead you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. desperate to shut him up. to shut yourself up. to make the ache go away. every movement was slow, sensual, too vulnerable. every inch of your skin between you whispering i missed you, donât leave again, please feel what iâm feeling.
his hand laced with yours, fingers locking tight, fitting together like two connecting pieces of a puzzle. it was all too much. the way he stayed close, nose brushing your cheek. the way he murmured your name under his breath like it was the only word he knew.
you whispered his name when that coil in your stomach started to tighten, the pressure ready to be released, tension curling through your body. he kissed your temple, your cheekbone, your mouth, over and over again as you came undone beneath him. your legs trembled, breath hitched, back arching as he talked you through it, murmuring praises in your ear.
he followed soon after, body shuddering against yours as he gave in, marking your walls, a grunt of your name spilling from his lips. and even then, he didnât let go of your hand. he stayed inside you long after, face buried in the curve of your neck, body heavy over yours in the best way. neither of you said anything, just basking in the warmth of each otherâs bodies.
youâve never felt fuller. the feeling of skin on skin. of a truth too big to name yet.
and when he pulled out, you felt the loss of him like a jolt. your body throbbed, empty and aching. he reached for the tissues on your bedside table, gently wiping away the mess you two made.
you swallowed hard, âmark-â
his eyes searched yours, desperate and open and unguarded in a way youâd never seen before. he was just as scared as you. scared that you would push him away again, âplease,â he begs, âdonât make me leave.â
âi donât know how to do this,â you said finally, voice barely above a whisper, âi donât know how to accept this.â you couldnât even bring yourself to say the word. that one word lingering in both of your tongues.
markâs face softened, something inside him cracking at your words. he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, âwe can figure it out,â he says, âbut we donât have to figure it all out tonightâŚfor tonight let's justâŚstay here.â
your eyes stung. he wasnât asking for promises. he wasnât demanding answers. he was just asking you not to run. not yet. you nodded and he exhaled like heâd been holding his breath for weeks. neither of you said anything after that. he shifted beside you, pulling you into his arms, your body curling naturally into the space against his chest. one of his hands wrapped around your back, the other held your hand like he was scared you would just disappear.
you laid there, wrapped in him, your heart a mess of silence and scars. listening to the beat of his heart. trying to believe this could be real.
âi donât want to hurt you,â you whispered into his skin.
âyou already do,â he murmured, raw and honest, brushing his lips to your hair.
âiâm sorry.â
âthereâs nothing to be sorry for, kitten. iâd rather be hurt with you than feel nothing without you,â he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. your eyes fluttered closed at that, too tired to hold everything in your chest. too afraid of what would happen when morning came. but for right now, in this moment, you let yourself stay.
and somewhere between his breathing and the ache in your chest, you fell asleep in his arms, tangled up in a mess of limbs, heartbreak and that word you both canât say.
ááᢠapril 26. saturday.
mark woke up to the soft morning light filtering in through your bedroom window, stretching across the sheets like a quiet whisper. the space beside him cold. his hand reached out before his eyes even opened, instinctively searching for you, but the space was empty, only leaving behind the shape of your figure.
his brows furrowed as he sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his chest. the room felt too still. like the warmth had left with you. he got up, heart tightening as his bare feet hits the floor, pulling on his sweats as he stepped into your living room â empty.
no note. no text. no sound of the shower. just silence. the kind of silence that presses on your ribs and makes everything feel heavier than it should.
mark exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. this wasnât new â this disappearing act of yours, distant and cold. but it hurt more today. especially after last night. after they way you kissed him like you meant it. the way you held him like you wanted him. the way you made love to him like you loved him.
he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. the victory of passing his finals felt like a faded memory now. and maybe you were just getting breakfast? maybe you were getting coffee? maybe you went out for a quick walk? but deep down, he knew better.
because when someone leaves without saying goodbye, itâs never just about getting coffee â itâs about fear. about retreat. about trying to stuff last night back into that box. a box where it doesnât fit anymore.
he didnât know what would happen next but he made you a promise and heâs determined to keep it. even if you never let him this close again. even if this was the last night heâd get to love you the way he wanted to. but he wouldnât push. he wouldnât beg. he wouldnât ask you to feel more than you were ready to. he knew your walls were built from heartbreak and survival and he would never try to tear them down.
but heâll show up â quietly, steadily, solid where you expected everyone to vanish. he wouldnât ask for anything in return. not your love, not your certainty, not even your presence. just the chance to exist nearby. just the permission to care.
you didnât have to earn his love by loving him back.
and if someday you turned around and realized you didnât want to be alone anymore. heâd be here, welcoming you with open arms.
â˘
you hadnât meant to leave like that. not really.
you told yourself it was just a short walk. just some air. just to clear your head before the morning got too loud and the reality of your actions settled in too deep.
your lips still felt the ghost of his. your skin still hummed with the way he touched you like he knew you â not just the version you showed him on movie nights and tutoring sessions, but the messy, terrified, too much version youâd spent years trying to hide. he kissed you like he wasnât afraid of her. and that pushed you further down your fears.
you didnât know if you were allowed to believe in it. so you left. not to hurt him. never too hurt him. but to protect yourself. protect him from you. to build the distance before you both could fall all the way in.
you couldnât stop thinking about the look on his face when you told him he passed â a mixture of excitement and bittersweet emotion clearly on display. the way he hugged you like you were home. and then, god, you kissed him. and for the first time in forever, kissing someone didnât feel like an escape. you swallowed hard. you were so afraid of these emotions. of needing him.
you went back home when the sun was down, mark nowhere to be seen, except for a note left on your coffee table, written in markâs handwriting:
âcall me if you need me.â
just simple words that made your chest ache.
if. not when.
he wasnât expecting you to need him. wasnât asking you to lose yourself again, to shrink, to bleed out the softest parts of you just to keep him. he wasnât trying to save you or fix you or unravel you for the sake of making you his.
he left you a choice, control fully in your hands. a door, cracked open.
if you need me.
not a condition. not a plea. just kindness wrapped in restraint. not loud or overwhelming. not all-consuming. just patient. just quiet. just there.
ááᢠone week later. may 3. saturday.
you never contacted him. you didnât know how to face him.
some days, youâd go home to take-out waiting for you by the door, still warm, like heâd just left. there were messages left in your phone. messages that you read over and over again, finger hovering above the keyboard. a reminder that mark was still there. that he still cares.
you just didnât know what to do with that.
âcâmon y/n, come to the party at the wayv frat tonight,â your best friend, yeri, says through the phone, her voice bright and pleading.
âyeri, i donât really feel like partying,â you sigh, voice low and dull.
ây/n, you canât push us away too, weâre your friends,â she says more firmly now.
you told her all about it a couple nights ago, over the fried chicken mark left at your doorstep, the soju in your fridge and a loose tongue that couldnât keep your pain in any longer.
you spilled everything. what happened with mark, how it started, how it ended and yeri almost killed you with your own pillow. you can still hear her voice now, going through every stage of disbelief like it was a full-blown performance.
she went from, âare you kidding me?! mark lee?!,âfollowed by a dramatic gasp and a mischievous smirk, âwas he good?? was he big?,â then came the pause, wide eyes, jaw dropping surprise âhe said he only wanted one girl!!?? THE mark lee?? wanting one girl???,â and then her voice cracked, eyes misting as she whispered, âhe wanted to know your favorite things?!?!â like it was the most romantic thing sheâd ever heard.
and then she strangled you with your own pillow when you got to the end of the story.
she was very much #teammark at the moment.
she was tired of your self sabotaging, your walls, your stubbornness â the way you rejected affection like it was poison. the way you flinched from being needed. from being loved. she understood it came from a place in your past. she never dismissed that pain. but she firmly reminded you that you canât let your past haunt you forever. that the echoes of what hurt you, the ghosts that whisper youâre unlovable or unsafe, should not define the life youâre living now. she gave you an entire pep talk talking about how you canât keep holding someone with one hand while the other is clinging to everything that once went wrong. and maybe the love in front of you isnât perfect, maybe itâs messy and complicated and terrifying but itâs here and itâs real and it could be everything only if you let it.
âlook,â yeri cuts through your train of thought,, âmina, doyeon, and ningning will be there too, okay, âyouâre the only one that's going to be missing.â
you hesitate.
âhe probably wonât even be there,â she adds quickly, âthe dream frat most likely has their own party going on tonight.â
you donât believe her. especially since you knew the dream frat was still under observance from that fight jeno threw.
âi donât knowâŚ,â you say.
âcâmon,â she says, softer this time, âitâs the end of finals, we deserve to let loose and have fun,â she tries, one more time.
you exhale slowly, already halfway convinced.
â...fine.â you mutter, earning a bubbly scream from the other side.
â˘
the music is loud the moment you step through the door, laughter spilling down the hallways, the scent of cheap beer and fruity vape lingering in the air. youâre already regretting the black dress hugging your body, the heels, and the fact that you let yeri talk you into this.
âshots first!,â she yells over the music, dragging you toward the room. you spot familiar faces, mina waving from across the room, doyeon chatting up a pretty girl, ningning locked in an intense game of beer pong with a guy in sunglasses â itâs all the usual chaos. familiar. almost comforting.
you let the noise wash over you, grateful for the distraction until yeri stiffens beside you. you know before you even turn. heâs here â mark lee, leaning casually against the wall across the room, red cup in hand. heâs mid-conversation with a boy you knew, xiaojun â music major, member of the wayv fraternity, also a guy you tutored.
he was laughing, looking relaxed until he saw you.
and everything stops.
almost like you were the only two in the room.
his smile falters. eyes lock with yours. like he didnât expect you to be here. doesnât know what to do now that youâre both standing in the same room again.
you forget how to breathe for a second.
ây/nâŚ,â yeri starts, but you shake your head, breaking away from his gaze.
âiâm fine.â youâre not.
but thatâs what you tell her, forcing a smile, âletâs get those shots,â you manage to say as you and yeri slip into the kitchen. looking for something to drink. preferably something strong.
â˘
he hadnât planned on staying long. he hasnât really been in the mood for parties this whole week. it was too loud, too crowded, too many people and none of them were you.
but chenle, haechan and jisung kept dragging him out night after night, insisting he just needed to âget back out there.â
it hasnât worked â he wasnât interested in anyone else, no matter how pretty his friends say they were. all he could think about was you.
he sees you in the spiderman figurines he had in his room. he sees you in the half-eaten pizza box that the boys had ordered, where he could practically hear your laugh. he sees you in his notes. in every damn song that plays. in the stray cat that kept curling up on their lawn. the basketball court. the library. every corner he found himself in is a memory of you.
and sex has been different since that night. not after what youâd shared. not after what it felt like to be wanted like that, to want like that. he didnât even know if he could go back to casual anymore, especially after feeling intimacy that intense.
so yeah, the plan was simple, he was gonna show up for a bit, make his rounds, say hi to his friends then dip. lock himself up in his room. back to waiting for your call.
he didnât expect to see you but there you were, walking through the crowd.
and he wished he looked a little better. put a little more effort into his outfit. but truth to be told, he didn't think he had anyone to impress. his light stubble has grown in. he was only in a plain white shirt and black jeans. he didn't even bother styling his hair.
one second, heâs laughing at something xiaojun said, the next the breath gets knocked out of him â you walked in like you didnât want to be there but still looking so effortlessly beautiful. the walls youâve been hiding behind standing tall all around you.
every instinct tells him to go to you but his feet stay planted, the grip on his cup tightening.
âdude,â xiaojun says, mid-sentence, eyebrows raising, âare you even listening to me?â
mark doesnât answer, he watches your eyes sweep the room and then land on him.
everything else disappears.
he doesnât even hear the music anymore. the crowd becomes nothing more than a blur of faceless shapes, none of them worth noticing.
you still have that look in your eyes. that haunted, guarded look heâs seen too many times. the one that says i want to let you in, but i canât afford to be hurt again.
you break the contact first, of course you do. he canât help but continue to stare.
âokay,â xiaojun says suddenly, setting down his drink. âthatâs it. iâm introducing you.â
markâs head snaps toward him, âwait, what?â
âdonât know what happened to you, man but youâve clearly lost your game,â his friend shrugs, already grabbing mark by the sleeve, âi got this. stop being a pussy, iâll be your wingman.â
mark resists, suddenly very aware of his surroundings, planting his feet, ânoâŚxiaojun, wait, you donât understandââ
âsheâs super chill,â xiaojun interrupts confidently, âsmart as hell, kind of terrifying at first glance but definitely nice. i got you, donât worry.â
âxiaojunâŚseriouslyââ mark hisses, digging his heels in, heart pounding in panic now, âwe alreadyâŚwe know each other.â
but xiaojun didnât hear him. too excited. too focused at playing matchmaker and hauling him toward the kitchen. âyou can thank me later,â he grins, âjust let me cook.â
markâs stomach sinks. his hands are clammy. heâs seconds away from bolting. and then you turn around, cup in hand, mid-sip, just as xiaojun barrels into the kitchen with mark reluctantly in tow.
ây/n!,â xiaojun calls cheerfully. mark looks like heâs been dragged into hell itself, his eyes sending you an apology and you canât help the way your brows lift.
âoh my god,â you whisper under your breath, choking on your drink and mark has to physically stop himself from reaching out to check if you are okay. you curse the fact that you let yeri leave you alone just a few seconds ago.
xiaojun beams, âi want you to meet my friend! this is mark. mark this is y/n..she used to tutor me back in the day. super scary, very smart,â you canât help but raise a brow at his description, âanyway, you two should totally talk,â he wiggles his eyebrows.
mark gives you a look like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. his voice comes out tight, strained, like it hurts to speak, âhey.â
you glance at mark. he glances at you. and somehow, without saying anything, you both decide to play along.
ânice to meet you,â you say coolly, extending a hand like you havenât seen every inch of him in moments youâre trying very hard to forget.
mark straightens up, his face schooled into a neutral smile. he takes your hand and his touch lingers just a little too long, bringing up feelings you tried so hard to push away, âsame here.â
xiaojun beams, totally buying it, âsee? told you i got you,â he whispers, making you quip a brow.
mark doesnât look away from you, âsoâŚyou used to tutor xiaojun?â
you nod, keeping your expression composed, âyeah, freshman year. he was failing basic algebra.â
xiaojun gasps in mock offence, âi had a C-â
âwhich is failing,â you shoot back without missing a beat.
mark chuckles under his breath, eyes crinkling, âsounds like you were a tough tutor.â
âthat depends on who iâm tutoring,â you say, like you didnât spend the past month tutoring him.
xiaojun claps his hands together, clearly pleased with himself, âthis is going great. iâm so good at at this. i should charge people.â
âoh yeah,â mark says, playing along, nodding solemnly. âyou should definitely monetize your matchmaking business.â
âmaybe i will!,â xiaojun grins, painstakingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension thickening between you two, âanyway, iâm gonna go and leave you two alone. you guys get to know each other. donât do anything i wouldnât do!,â he winks and disappears back into the party.
and just like that, the mask drops. the space between you crackling.
mark raises an eyebrow, ânice to meet you, huh?â
you shrug, âyou started it.â
he smirks faintly, âyou didnât have to shake my hand like we were at a networking event.â
âwell, you didnât have to look so charmed by it,â you shoot back and for a second it all feels too normal. just two friends caught in their playful banter.
â˘
ááᢠnow.
âitâs good to see you,â he says, a little quieter now, smirk fading just slightly. you falter at that but instead of running, instead of deflecting, you hold his gaze.
âso,â you say, attempting a half-smile, âdo you come here often, mark?â
he chuckles but the sound fades quickly. the amusement doesnât last in his eyes. you were doing it again. masking your feelings behind a joke. trying to find an out. trying to stall the inevitable â and he stopped playing this game a long time ago. has stopped holding back.
âyou didnât call.â
your smile drops, âmarkâ,â
âthat night,â he cuts in softly, but thereâs something raw under his voice now, âi woke up and you were gone.â
the kitchen feels smaller. the party noise beyond the door fades to a muffled hum.
âi didnât know what to say,â you murmur, voice almost lost under the thump of bass in the other room.
âyou didnât have to say anything,â he says, âi just wanted you to stay.â
you look away but mark steps forward. not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him.
âi kept checking my phone,â he goes on, âevery morning when i wake up, every night before i go to bed. i watched you read my messages and i thought maybe you just needed time.â
ââi waited,â he continues, voice shaking now, âi left food by your door, i didnât even care if you didnât text back, i just wanted you to know iâm still here.â
you press your lips together, holding everything in.
âi didnât want that night to end,â he goes on, quieter now, âand maybe i was stupid for thinking you felt the same way butââ
he breathes in, eyes locking onto yours. you try to tell him to stop but your voice betrays you. and mark could no longer hold back the words heâs been wanting to say.
âi fell in love with you.â
your heart stutters. that one phrase making you want to run.
âand iâm still in love with you,â he finishes, like a final breath. like heâs cutting himself open and bleeding honesty, the words slamming into your chest.
âwe only had two rules, mark,â you managed to whisper, voice quiet and broken.
mark takes a shaky step closer, heart in his throat, âtell me you donât feel it then,â he said quietly. his voice wasnât angry, just tired, broken, desperate.
âlook me in the eye and tell me you donât love meâŚthat you donât feel anything when i look at you like this and iâll stop. iâll leave you alone.â
you freeze. you didnât answer right away. because you did feel it â you felt it in your chest, in your stomach, in the way the world always seemed to go a little quieter when he was around. you feel it in the ache that never went away after that night. you feel it in the way he says your name like itâs something holy. but that truth was too dangerous. too real.
so you hardened your voice, you shove it so far down you almost believe the lie yourself.
âi donât feel it.â
you looked him dead in the eye, even though it nearly broke you. markâs face falls but you donât stop there. you lift your chin, meeting his gaze and finally twisting the knife in both of you.
âi donât love you.â
his face didnât crumble. didnât twist in pain. he just stilled â silent, hollow stillness. the words knocking the breath from his lungs in one brutal blow. his eyes search your face like heâs trying to find a hole in your armor â something to tell him you donât mean it.
you walked away, leaving him in the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd before he can see the way your hand trembles. before he can see the way your heart is breaking too. every step away from him felt heavier than the last. your throat felt like it was strangling your heartbeat. every breath scraped your ribs like regret trying to crawl out of your chest.
you told yourself not to look back. not to care. this is for the better. he deserves someone better. someone who knew what they wanted. someone who can give him the love he has to give without flinching.
you did the right thing. for the both of you.
you ignore your friendâs calls. focused only on trying to get as far away from this place as possible. and yet, as you passed through the living room, something ridiculous stopped you cold â someone was messing with a money gun. dozens of dollar bills floating all around you, spinning through the air like confetti in slow motion. you scoffed before you could stop yourself, bitter and breathless at the irony.
you pushed forward anyway, trying to control your tears, making your way through the bodies and out into the front lawn. you manage to make it a couple feet away.
but thenâŚfingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your wrist, turning you towards his tear-filled eyes as he caught up to you, breathless.
âwhat are you so afraid of?â mark asked, eyes wide, wild with a mixture of hope and desperation.
âwhat is it that terrifies you so much youâd rather lie to my face than admit what we have?â
his words cracked something open inside you. that was it. the last of your resolve breaking apart. your defenses collapsed.
âyou, mark!,â your voice broke, full of too many emotions you could no longer control, âiâm afraid of you!â
he blinked, startled. you didnât let the silence catch up.
âiâm afraid of what you make me feel,â you said, voice unraveling.
âiâm afraid because iâm in love with you too. and i donât want to be!â
the tears came fast and hot but you no longer cared about the strong front youâve been trying to keep up.
ââbecause the last time i fell in love, it destroyed me. i gave everything to someone who promised theyâd stay and they left. and i had to build myself back up from nothing and i swore iâd never let myself feel like that again.â
mark took a slow step closer. like he was approaching something sacred.
âi donât want to become her again,â you choked out, âthe girl who wakes up wondering if today is the day everything falls apart. the one who clings too tightly. the one who ruins everything because she wants too much.â
âyouâre not her anymore,â he said softly, like he was holding your heart in his hands., âyouâre stronger now. you know who you are. and if things fall apart,â his voice cracked, his own tears falling, âiâll still be there, iâm not going to leave you.â
you shook your head, tears falling freely, âyou don't know that! what if i mess it up? what if iâm too much?â
âthen iâll stay anyway,â he said, voice trembling with conviction, âiâll stay and remind you every single time that you're not too much. that youâre worth loving.â
you looked up at him, ready to break again but his words make you freeze, âand iâm scared too.â
mark swallowed hard.
âiâve never been in love before,â he said. ânot like this. not even close and i donât know what iâm doing. iâm scared iâll say the wrong thing. that iâll mess this up. that iâll love you too much or not enough or in the wrong wayâ
he let out a shaky breath, gaze locked on yours.
âbut iâm willing to learn. i'm willing to fall. because i'm scared of losing you the most and iâd rather be scared with you than go my whole life without you in itâŚwithout trying.â
his eyes bored into yours, wide and unguarded, filled with that same fear youâd been carrying. you realized then that you weren't so different. just two souls wanting to love and be loved, both terrified of what it might cost.
and if he was brave enough to jump, you werenât going to let him fall alone â with that, the last wall inside you crumbled and you reached for him.
mark pulls you into his arms like heâd been waiting for this moment all his life. there, under the stars and distant music, you clung to him, allowing yourself to want him. your chest heaved against his, tears soaking into his t-shirt. and still, he held you tighter.
âiâm sorry,â you whispered, voice hoarse, âiâm justâŚiâm so scared.â
âi know,â he murmured back, âitâs okay. iâm here.â
he rocked you gently like your pain had a rhythm only he understood. he didnât know what else to do but hold you.
eventually your tears slowed. your breathing evened out. your fingers loosened from their desperate grip. you stayed in his arms a moment longer, heart pressed into his chest. committing it to memory like it was a song you never wanted to forget.
then you pull back, just enough to look up at him. your lashes were damp, eyes still glassy, âi meant it,â you said, barely above a whisper, âi love you.â
his eyes searched yours, not for doubt, but for the truth. and when he found it, unguarded, soft, scared, real, his hold on your waist tightens just a tiny bit like he couldnât believe this was real and not something heâd dreamed up in all the nights he spent missing you.
mark leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you donât. his lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, then deeper, steadier, like exhaling after holding his breath for years. you kissed him back like it was the only thing you knew how to do â your heart had spent so long trying to run away from this very feeling and now it was collapsing into it with both arms wide open.
no more running. just you and him and the promise of something real. not something that had an expiration date marked by final exams and end of sessions.
he smiled against your lips. you pulled away, the smallest, tearful laugh catching in your throat.
âsoâŚwhat do we do now?,â you asked, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, though your voice was still soft. still fragile from everything it had admitted. and your eyes only had room for his reflection.
mark raised a hand, thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek, âwell,â he said, his voice low and full of warmth, âi would love to take you out on a date.â
and this time, when you smiledâŚit felt like the beginning.
ááᢠthe next day.
mark knocks at your door at exactly 6:00P.M. a little more dressed up than usual, his face freshly shaved, hair styled perfectly, a bouquet of white roses behind his back.
you open the door and his breath catches. the red dress you're wearing stops just above your knees, hugging your curves in all the right places. its bold and subtle all at once, elegant neckline, bare shoulders.
you see the shift in his expression instantly, eyes widening, lips parting slightly.
âkitten,â he breathes out, recovering just enough to let a smirk tug on his lips âare you trying to cancel our date?â
your brows furrow in amusement, âwhat?â
he lets out a soft laugh, eyes still tracing the length of you. âhow do you expect me to not want to have my hands all over you until this is off?â he says, a hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently against him, already losing his inner battle.
a playful smirk appears on your lips, âhey, buy a girl dinner first,â you say, pressing your palm to his chest to push him back, just a little.
he chuckles, deep and warm, eyes twinkling as he finally brings the bouquet around âfor you, kitten.â
you take the flowers with a soft, surprised smile âthese are beautiful mark, thank you,â you say quietly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, just a quick one, before slipping back into your apartment. he stays at the door, watching as you make yourself into the kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. you rummage through your drawers for the vase you rarely use, dusting it off before filling it with water. carefully, you begin arranging the flowers on your coffee table. mark steps inside, closing the door behind him. his arms wrapping around your waist in a back hug.
âyou ready?,â he murmurs, a kiss brushing the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.
âmhm,â you smile, reaching down to pat his hand before lacing your fingers with his. his grip is warm, sure. he leads you to the door, locking it behind you as you both step out of your apartment.
âthis is kinda weird,â he chuckles as you walk towards his car.
âwhat? holding my hand,â you say, about to pull your hand away only for his grip to tighten.
âi didnât say it was bad,â he says quickly, pulling you closer, âiâve just never held hands with my girlfriend before.â
you chuckle, some things never change.
âoh, i didnât know i was your girlfriend now?,â you smirk, teasing, a brow raising.
his smile instantly drops, âplease say sike,â he mutters, suddenly serious. you burst into laughter and the tension in his shoulder melts. he watches you in awe, like your laugh could break every bone in his body and heâd still ask to hear it again. a smile taking over his features.
âsike,â you say sweetly just as he pokes your side, making you jump. he opens the passenger door for you with a smug look and you slide inside, cheeks warm, heart racing.
mark planned the most romantic, classic first date imaginable. like something ripped right out of a movie montage. candlelight dinner, soft jazz humming in the background and a corner table in a quiet, upscale restaurant where the lighting was dim and golden, casting everything in a dreamy glow. the flicker of the candle between you danced in his eyes, making him look warmer, softer than usual. the low murmur of other diners fading into the background. he pulled out your chair for you like a real gentleman. you ordered your food, sat across from each other, feet brushing beneath the table, half accidental, half deliberated. it was playful and sweet. he smiled every time it happened like he was trying to make you blush without saying a word. and it worked â you couldnât remember the last time a date felt this intentional, this thoughtfully put together. like someone had wanted to impress you.
âwow, you really did your research, huh?,â you tease him, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk tugging at your lips.
âonly the best for my girl,â he winks. you rolled your eyes at the line but the flutter in your chest betrayed you.
the food arrived and for a while you just existed in the moment. complimenting the dishes, laughing about how his plate looked fancier but yours tasted better. he slid a perfectly sliced piece of steak onto your plate without you asking and you absentmindedly twirled a forkful of pasta and held it out to him like it was second nature. like it was something youâve been doing for years.
then halfway through the meal, mark leans in a little. his elbow resting on the table, chin in hand like he couldnât help but watch you.
âi donât know enough about you,â he says suddenly.
you looked up, caught mid-chew and more caught off-guard, âyouâve literally seen me naked, i think youâre doing fine.â
mark laughed â that warm, boyish sound that always cracked you open a little more than you liked to admit. he leaned back slightly, shaking his head, âyeah but i mean know you. like the little things. the stuff people forget to ask but matters more than they think.â
you blinked, slowly setting your fork down, âokâŚwhat do you want to know?â
he lights up like a kid on christmas day, âwhatâs your favorite color?â
âreally, mark?â you laughed, because of all the things he couldâve asked, it was a question as simple as that.
âhey! itâs important especially since i want to buy you gifts,â he shrugs, taking a bite out of his (your) pasta.
you rolled your eyes, smiling anyway âokay. pink.â
mark blinked, surprised. he never wouldâve guessed. âpink?â
âmhm,â you said, spearing a bite of the salad in between you, ânot like neon pink though but soft pink.â
âdidnât see that coming,â he said grinning. âbut it kinda fitsâŚyou act all tough but youâre secretly a softie.â
you narrowed your eyes, âcareful.â
âjust saying,â he chuckled, reaching for his drink.
âalright,â you said, pointing your fork at him, âyour turn, favorite color?â
âblue.â
you tilted your head, chewing thoughtfully, a playful grin on your face, âblue because itâs the color of the sky?â
he grinned, âthat was the reasonâŚat first,â he said, voice softening, âthen you walked up to me, wearing a soft blue sundress during freshman year and the reason changed.â
your fork froze halfway to your mouth. for a second, the air felt heavier, quieter, like the words had rearranged the molecules around you. your eyes widen a little, lips parting as your expression falters between surprise and amusement.
âyou remembered what i was wearing?,â you ask in pure disbelief.
âhow could i forget?,â he shrugs like he didnât just confess something that would stay with you for the rest of your life.
âwaitâŚare you saying youâve had a crush on me since freshman year?,â you asked, your tone teasing.
mark rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning, âi may have had a tiny crush on you back then,â he admits. the smile on your face growing with every second.
the rest of your evening unfolded like a dream you didnât want to wake from. full of quiet laughter, sharing of favorites and the reason behind them. every answer was like turning a page, revealing another layer neither of you had taken time to read before. between conversation, his hand would find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there. heâd brush your knuckles with his thumb, every movement gentle, deliberate. and every now and then, heâd lean over and kiss you. soft, unhurried kisses that made your skin hum and your stomach flip.
by the time you slid back into his car, the air between you was warm and charged, not with tension but with something more open, more vulnerable. he let you have the aux, learning your favorite songs on the ride back. both of you singing along, sometimes out of tune, sometimes laughing too hard. his hand was in yours the whole drive home. you kissed at stop lights. playful pecks that turned into lingering moments. the city moved around you, but you both felt disconnected. stuck in your own world with a population of two.
when he finally pulled up to your place, you were still laughing about something stupid heâd said. and then it got quiet. the kind of the quiet that meant something more. mark walked you to your door, hand still wrapped around yours like he couldnât let go.
âtonight was really fun,â you said softly , your arm looped around his neck, fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair.
âyeah?,â he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, lingering there for a beat, âwould you say iâm you knowâŚboyfriend material?,â he teased, smirking against your skin.
you huffed a laugh, playfully nudging him with your shoulder, âthat was so bad.â
he tilts his head to look at your properly, the mischief fading into something gentler, more sincere, âi had the best time.â
you met his gaze, leaning up to kiss him â slow and sweet. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss for a heartbeat before you pulled back, breathless but smiling.
âgoodnight, mark,â you whispered, not quite ready for the night to end.
âgoodnight kitten,â he said just as softly.
you slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. but your skin still buzzed with his touch, lips still tingling with the memory of his kiss. you leaned against the door, eyes closed, heart racing as the entire night replays in your mind.
outside, mark stares at your door, already missing your presence. he started to bring his fist up for a knock, but then the door opened. again.
he blinked, startled.
you were standing there, eyes already locked on his. you didnât say a word. neither did he.
because in the next second, he crossed the threshold and kissed you â hard, fast and real. all the restraint of the evening gave way to need. he kicked the door shut behind him, hand blindly finding the lock as his other arm wound around your waist.
you make the familiar steps to your bedroom, lips never leaving his, a quiet gasp escaping you when he lifted you slightly, walking you backward until your knees hit the bed.
and when you made love, it wasnât rushed or desperate. it was slow, tender. his hands memorized you all over again. his lips marked every inch of your skin. you whispered his name like it meant something new now. he held you like he never wanted to stop.
the morning came and you were still there, wrapped tightly around his arms. body molded perfectly against his like you were always meant to fit there. fingers interlaced like your hands had made a silent promise sometime in the night to never part. mark could see the pink and purple marks blooming where his lips and hands had wandered. he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest â you looked peaceful, like all the weight you usually carried had melted away in the dark, if only for a little while. and in that quiet moment, with the world still hushed around you, he knows that itâs all worth it.
and if he had to do it all over again â the mistakes, the heartache, the waiting. he would. every single time, without hesitation, if it always leads him back to this. back to you. the only thing heâs ever been sure of.
ááá˘
loving mark made you realize that love didnât have to be a fantasy. it wasnât all sunshines and rainbows and happily ever afters. but it also wasnât terrible, screaming at each other at 3am, being left behind on the kitchen floor, crying your eyes out.
it didnât happen overnight either. there was still fear lingering in the back of your head. but this time you donât let it take control. this time you donât let it overpower.
because love with mark is staying, even when you were scared. especially when you were scared. it was comfort and safety. the kind that wrapped around your heart and told you it was okay to let your guard down. it was peace. the kind that didnât demand you to be anything other than what you were. it was someone showing up at your apartment with your favorite snacks, settling in beside you on the couch while a romcom played and cramps left you curled under a blanket. no pressure to talk. just presence. itâs laughing at terrible jokes until your stomach hurt. arguing about which spiderman was the best. agreeing to disagree, even if you were clearly right. it was fighting over which greasy takeout to get and pretending to be annoyed when he ordered your favorite anyway. it was celebrating the happy moments, the sad moments and everything in between. itâs sticking around when things got hard. still choosing each other when the weight of the world made everything feel heavy. it was learning each other and unlearning old patterns. being patient. building something new, one honest conversation at a time. it was asking, âdo you want advice or do you just want me to listen?â it was hearing the answer and respecting it.
it wasnât about fixing each other or needing someone to fill a space inside you. it was about wanting to be there. it was about choosing to stay again and again and again.
đ˛ the end.
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18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
bonus: mark x kitten coded -> video one, video two, video three
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an: and 3/7 is done! i hit the 1000 text block limit thing on here and it was awful. itâs not my fault theyâre both yappers and i write way too much when mark is involved! i hope i was still able to convey the tension and longing in those long ass paragraphs >.< âŚ. anyways, this was supposed to end the moment she walked away but i couldnât do it! i had to give mark a happy ending, he deserves it!. kitten was so hard to write like why am i writing a character with past trauma and real, raw, emotions that are hitting too close to home⌠this is supposed to be a fun, silly rom-com. but i hope you liked her! i hope you liked them. thank you for reading! <3
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so i read this in order and i'm not done with the whole series yet BUT i just wanted to share my thoughts with this one ASAP..... this wrecked me both in the best and worst way possible. i tried my best not to be biased but i just knew mark's story would be my most, most, most, most favorite 𼚠wayyy to get creative with the ///tutoring/// i loved it all so much. i inhaled this fic idc about anything else anymore. the angst really angst-ed idk!!!!! i love how you wrote mark here so soooo much boy really did NOT give up while knowing what seems right at the moment :''''')))) i still think about this one until now.
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mark is crying and fucking his apology into you after a stupid fight.
â content 1.4k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, bottom!male reader, established relationship, make-up sex, crying during sex, unprotected sex (p in a), creampie, mark is like really really pathetic, slight aftercare.
"just say you still want me, please, just say it," mark gasped, the words cracking in the middle as he pushed deep, burying himself inside you to the hilt.
the argument from earlier still hummed in the air, a live wire tangled in the sheets.
your back was against the mattress, markâs weight a heavy, familiar anchor. you were still furious, your jaw tight, arms braced against his chest â not really pushing him away, but not pulling him close either. you could easily feel every ragged breath he took, see the wet gleam on his cheeks even in the dim bedroom light.
mark was a mess. a beautiful, fucking hot mess.
his black hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, damp strands falling into those dark pretty brown eyes that were usually so sharp, so assured.
right now they were wide, pleading, and swimming with tears that kept spilling over.
mark moved again, a slow, grinding roll of his hips that made you see stars despite your anger, the thick, full sensation of him stretching you perfectly, maddeningly.
"you feelâoh my god, you always feel like this," he choked out, his voice raw. "like heaven. i'm so stupid. i'm so, so stupid, baby."
you didn't answer, you simply let out a sharp breath as he pulled back and thrust in again, harder this time, the force of it jolting you up the bed.
the slap of skin, the wet, tight sound of him moving inside you â god, it was obscenely loud. your own traitorous body arched, a low moan pulled from your throat. it felt too good. unfairly good. markâs desperate need was a tangible thing, radiating from his overheated skin, trembling in the hands that cradled your face.
"i can't... i can't lose this," mark sobbed, bending down to press his forehead to yours. his tears dripped onto your face, mingling with the sweat. "i can't lose you. please."
markâs lips naturally found yours for a salty, clumsy kiss, that was more shared breath than anything. you kissed him back because it was instinct, because his mouth was soft and desperate and you knew its shape better than your own. mark moaned into it, a pathetic, broken sound that vibrated against your lips.
your boyfriend kissed you like he was dying of thirst, licking into your mouth, his tongue sweeping over yours before he broke away to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your throat.
"i'm sorry," he whispered against your pulse point, his hips never stopping their relentless, deep rhythm. each thrust was a punctuation to his plea. "i'm so sorry. for what i said. for being a prideful idiot. i didn't mean any of it. you know i didn't, right? tell me you know."
you grabbed a fistful of markâs hair, not gentle, and pulled his head back to look at him.
"you meant it when you said it," you bit out, but your voice wavered as he angled his hips just right, brushing that sweet spot inside you that made your toes curl.
mark winced, but not from the pain in his scalp.
"i was so fucking scared, baby. i'm scared. âcause you could have anyone, and i..." mark drove into you again, his body shuddering. "i just need you so fucking much. and it makes me crazy."
his confession was a live thing between you. mark began to move faster, losing the controlled, deep rolls for something more frantic, more needy. the bedframe knocked a steady rhythm against the wall.
his arms hooked under your knees, pushing your legs back, opening you up wider, letting him sink even deeper. the new angle made you cry out, your own resolve crumbling under the sheer physical onslaught.
"fuckâyes. like that," you heard yourself gasp, the anger morphing into a sharp, clawing want.
and mark seized on it like a lifeline.
"like that? you like that, baby? tell me. tell me what you like. iâll do anything," he was babbling, his words slurring together with each thrust. "you're so perfect. so tight for me. taking me so good, fuck, even when you hate me."
"i don'tâ i donât hate you," you grunted, the admission torn from you.
your hands slid from your boyfriend hair down to his shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles bunch and release with every movement. he was everywhere â his scent, his sweat, the sound of his ragged sobs and pretty moans filling the room.
"you don't?" he cried, his rhythm faltering for a second with sheer emotion. "say it again. please."
you didn't. instead, you pulled him down into another kiss, sucking his lower lip, biting it gently.
mark whimpered, a high, needy sound that went straight to your cock, trapped and leaking between your stomachs. the friction was delicious, exhilarating.
his hands were everywhere, too â gripping on your hips so hard you'd certainly bruise later, skimming up your sides, thumbing over your nipples until you arched with a sharp cry. mark worshiped your body with a frantic, tearful intensity, as if trying to memorize you with his hands, his mouth, his cock.
"i'm gonna make it right, baby," he promised, his voice thick. "i'm gonna make you feel so good you forget why you were ever mad at me."
mark was close. you could feel it in the tightening of his balls against you, in the way his thrusts became shorter, more jerky, less coordinated. the pathetic, beautiful sounds he made were constant now; whimpers, sobs, your name choked out like a desperate prayer.
"look at me," you demanded, your own control fraying.
the coil in your gut was winding impossibly tight, fed by his desperation and the flawless, brutal pace of his hips.
mark obeyed instantly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. they were wrecked, red-rimmed, overflowing.
"i love you," he rasped, each word a thrust. "i love you so fucking much. i'm so sorry. let's not fight ever again. please. i can't stand it."
it was the raw, unfiltered misery in his voice, the complete vulnerability, that finally shattered the last of your anger. you saw it â the real fear, the love that was so big it terrified him.
your hands came up to cradle his pretty face, thumbs swiping at the endless tears.
"fuckâmark," you moaned, and his name was both a surrender and an absolution.
that was all it took.
markâs orgasm hit him like a seizure. a broken, gasping cry tore from his throat as he slammed into you one last time, hilting himself, and held there.
you felt the hot, pulsing rush of his release flooding deep inside you, wave after wave, intense and seemingly endless. mark shook violently through it, his face crumpling, tears falling in earnest as he sobbed through the peak, his hips making tiny, involuntary jerks as he emptied himself completely inside you.
the sensation of mark coming, so deep and so much, the visual of him utterly falling apart above you, tipped you over the edge right after.
your own climax ripped through you with a silent, breathless intensity, your back bowing off the bed as you spilled between your stomachs, the pleasure so sharp it was almost painful, whitespotting your vision.
mark collapsed on top of you, a dead weight, but you welcomed it. his face was buried in the crook of your neck, his wet lashes tickling your skin. he was still crying, soft, hiccupping sobs now, his body occasionally trembling. you could feel his heart hammering against your chest, a frantic echo of your own.
he was still inside you, softening, but he made no move to pull out, just clung to you.
for long minutes, the only sounds in the room were markâs slowing tears, the ragged pull of his breath, and the slick, intimate sound of your joined bodies.
slowly, you ran your hands up and down his damp back, over the knobs of his spine. mark nuzzled deeper into your neck, placing a soft, wet kiss there.
"i'm sorry," he whispered again, voice hoarse and shot.
"i know," you said quietly, softly pressing your lips to his temple. "it's okay."
mark finally lifted his head, his face puffy, eyes swollen, but his gaze was clear, focused solely on you. he looked ruined â beautifully so â and utterly yours.
mark shifted gently, slipping out of you, and you both winced at the sensitivity, the sudden emptiness. he didn't go far, he simply rolled to your side and immediately gathered you against him, your back to his chest, his arms locking around you like iron bands, one hand splayed possessively over your stomach.
He kissed your shoulder, then the nape of your neck.
"really okay?" he murmured, his voice small.
you intertwined your fingers with his over your stomach, feeling the sticky proof of his desperation cooling on your skin. the fight was long gone, drained away, leaving only the deep, weary truth of how much you needed each other. you squeezed his hand.
pairing: brother's best friend!haechan x fem. reader
genre: smut, bit of crack
wc: 7k
summary: you send a spicy photo to the wrong lee and suddenly your brother's best friend is at your door with mulled wine and a space heater talking about "keeping you warm"
content warnings: christmas/holidays setting, explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, accidental sexting, mild language/profanity, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, lingerie kink, references to bruising/scratches from sex, banter & relentless teasing, mild reference to soreness/discomfort, hae is actually a simp and down bad, reader is a bit of a tsundere lowk, the bells stayed ON during sex
a/n: merry xmas besties !! accept this last min gift from me because i honestly donât know how to thank you enough for all the love this year. ngl this was definitely a bit rushed bc i wanted to post it on time for xmas so it is pretty fast paced. also, if you spot any mistakes lmk i will fix them eventually hehe. anyways enjoy!! ps: take a shot for every time you see the words "jingle bells" lol
There is a strange calm that comes over the city on Christmas Eve. Fewer cars line the roads, lights go out behind shop windows, and it seems as though all the apartments in your street have the same deep orange glow, as if the city has put a blanket around itself and turned on a reading light.
Your place is a different story altogether.
The heater has given up on you yet another winter, and you exist in thick socks and oversized sweaters for the duration, fogging the air with your breath as if youâre holidaying in a downbeat ski lodge rather than your zone 2 apartment.
Your mother has already called three times, each a frantic ninety-second sprint through holiday plans: Will you bring the extra chairs? Are you still pescatarian, or just being difficult about red meat? Can you pick up the right cranberry sauce, you know the one in the glass jar, not the jellied monstrosity from the tin?
You agree to everything, phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder, trying to sound composed while your teeth threaten to chatter. Youâre still perched on your bed, half-naked except for the red lace and those absurd little bells. Your thighs and shoulders ache with cold, and youâre painfully aware of every square inch of exposed skin.
Not ten minutes ago, youâd spent the better part of an hour contorting into increasingly improbable angles in red lace and utterly humiliating jingle bells, all in the name of looking effortless for Jeno, of course.Â
Jeno: thereâs a name your pulse seems to know better than your own. Three months of teasing pictures from him post-workout, with nothing but a towel slung over his hips so his abs take center stage. The subtext has never been subtle. Tonight youâd planned to stop being subtle in return.
Now, while your mom lists off a litany of tasks, youâre scrolling through chats ready to finally send the photo thatâs taken nearly an hour (and a yearâs worth of courage) to create. The cold had made the whole thing an endurance exercise, goosebumps rippling over your arms as you tried to ignore how the bells jingled with every movement. The best photo sits ready on your screen, the last thing you snapped before your momâs ringtone interrupted.
Sheâs still talking about napkin colors, whether the buses are still running, and remindng you to bring nice pajamas for the inevitable Christmas morning photos. Youâre only half listening as you thumb out a quick âMerry Christmas xâ, attach the photo, and press send, so practiced in the gesture you donât bother double checking.
Thereâs a satisfying whoosh.
Then your blood runs cold when you read the name at the top of the chat.
Lee Haechan.
Not Lee Jeno.
Not the man with gym selfies whoâs been circling your DMs like a hawk.
No. Youâve just sent a very curated, very intimate, very jingling photo of yourself to Lee fucking Haechanâyour brotherâs best friend. Eternal nuisance. Long-time gremlin. The boy who once told your crush that you still slept with a stuffed animal named Mr. Toast when you were fifteen.Â
The phone buzzes in your hand.
Haechan: holy. shit.
Haechan: is this what youâre wearing to dinner tomorrow orâŚ?
Your mother's voice becomes white noise as you watch those messages appear. The phone nearly slips from your suddenly nerveless fingers.
"âand don't forget the wine, the Pinot Grigio not the Sauvignon Blanc, you know how your father gets aboutâ"
"Mom, I have to go," you interrupt, voice strangled and hysterical. "Emergency."
"What emergency, dearâ"
You hang up. She'll forgive you eventually, probably after three glasses of the wrong wine, but right now you have bigger problems. Catastrophically bigger problems.
You: THAT WASN'T FOR YOU
You: DELETE IT
You: DELETE IT RIGHT NOW
You: HAECHAN I SWEAR TO GOD
The typing bubble appears immediately.Â
Haechan: you know, when you said you were bringing dessert tomorrow
Haechan: i assumed you meant cookies or something
You're going to die. Actually, physically die. In your freezing apartment, still wearing the stupid lingerie.
You: it was meant for someone else
You: obviously
You: please just delete it and we never speak of this again
Haechan: someone else???
Haechan: so youâre just spreading holiday cheer randomly
Haechan: i'm devastated
Your apartment feels even colder now, or maybe that's just the mortification freezing you from the inside out. You scramble for your oversized sweater, yanking it over your head while trying to type one-handed.
You: this isn't funny
Haechan: it's a little funny
Haechan: do i say thank you? is this a secret santa thing?
You: how much
Haechan: ?
You: how much money to pretend this never happened
You: name your price
You can practically see him in his apartment, probably sprawled on his sofa in those ratty joggers he refuses to throw away, grinning at his phone in glory.
Haechan: bold of you to assume i can be bought
Haechan: but also
Haechan: 50 dollars
You: done
Haechan: per day
You: WHAT
Haechan: do you want my silence or not
Haechan: this is premium blackmail material
Haechan: i could dine out on this story for years
You pull the sweater down properly, the wool scratching against your skin where the lace still sits underneath. He's literally coming to your parents' house tomorrow for Christmas. You'll have to sit across from him at dinner, pass him the potatoes, pretend everything's normal while he knows exactly what you look like under your ugly sweater.
Haechan: although i'm curious
Haechan: who's the lucky recipient supposed to be
Haechan: anyone i know?
You: none of your business
Haechan: it literally became my business
Haechan: when you made it my business
Your phone starts ringing. His contact photo fills the screen with that stupid selfie he'd taken with your phone on Markâs birthday last year, mouth full of roast potato, eyes crossed. You'd never bothered to change it.
You decline the call.
He rings again immediately.
"What," you answer through gritted teeth, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to conserve what little body heat you have left.
"You sound cold," is the first thing he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
"My heating's broken."
"Again? Y/N, it's literally freezing."
"Yes, well, I've had other concerns tonight."
He laughs and you can tell heâs delighted by the sounds of it. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all year."
"I'm so glad my humiliation brings you joy."
"I wouldnât call it humiliation," he says. "More like... revelation."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I didn't know you owned anything that wasn't either stolen from your brother or three sizes too big."
You pull the sweater over your knees. "I contain multitudes."
"Clearly." There's a rustling on his end, like he's shifting position. "So who's the guy?"
"I told you it's none of your business."
"Come on, I'm going to find out anyway. Your mom tells me everything."
He's right, which is infuriating. Your mother treats Haechan like the son she never had, even though she literally has two sons already.
"It's just someone from class," you mumble.
"That Jino guy? The one who looks like he irons his underwear?"
"No." You lie. Another con from knowing Haechan for that long is that he knows most of your situationships.
"Thank god. I was concerned about your taste."
"My taste is fine."
"Debatable, considering you just sent meâ"
"That was an accident!"
"A fortunate one," he says.
You're about to respond when your phone buzzes with another message. For one horrible moment you think it's Jeno, somehow cosmically aware of your failure, but it's worse.
Mum: Did you hang up on me?
Mum: Haechan says he'll pick you up tomorrow since the buses aren't running
Mum: So helpful, that boy
"Did you just text my mother?" you accuse.
"She texted me first. Apparently you're being difficult about the wine."
"I hung up because I was having a crisis!"
"Past tense? Crisis over?"
You look down at yourself in the giant sweater, exposed legs slowly turning blue, hair probably resembling something from a horror film. "No, it's very much ongoing."
"Want me to come over?"
The question catches you off guard. "What?"
"Your heating's broken, it's Christmas Eve, and you sound pathetic. I'll bring mulled wine."
"Absolutely not."
"I'll even delete the photo."
You pause. "Really?"
"I donât know, but you can try to convince me."
"I hate you." You groan.
"I know," he says, and you can hear keys jingling on his end. "See you in twenty."
"Haechan, noâ"
He hangs up.
You gape at your phone in disbelief. This night has already careened so far off the rails that him showing up feels almost inevitable.
You look around your freezing apartment, at the poorly decorated tree leaning precariously in the corner, at the mountain of unwrapped presents for tomorrow, at yourself in your ridiculous combination of grandma sweater and inadvertent festive lingerie.
Your phone buzzes once more.
Haechan: might want to put on some pants before i get there
You pad to your bedroom, feet freezing on the hardwood floors, and catch sight of yourself in the mirror. The sweater hits mid-thigh, the red lace barely visible underneath, and your face has a flush that comes from both the cold and mortification.
The bells jingle mockingly as you search for pants.
You manage to find a pair of shorts and yank them on just as your doorbell rings. The man has never been on time for anything in his life except, apparently, your personal disasters.
You check the peephole and immediately groan. Heâs standing there in a perfectly tailored coat, scarf knotted at his throat, holding what looks like two bottles of wine and a carrier bag, looking infuriatingly put-together for someone who just invited himself over at half nine on Christmas Eve. Thereâs a glint in his eye that you recognize all too well. Heâs about to make your life miserable.
âI can see your shadow under the door,â he calls. âJust let me in before your neighbors think Iâm casing the place.â
You open the door, and he breezes past you, bringing a swirl of cold air and the scent of cinnamon and clove. He sets everything on your counter, shakes snow from his hair and surveys your living room.
âChrist, itâs colder in here than outside,â he says, setting down the wine. âHow are you not dead?â
âLayers,â you mutter, though the truth is youâve barely stopped shivering since your little photo shoot. He starts unpacking his bag: two bottles of red, a battered thermos emanating the smell of mulled wine, a packet of mince pies, andâ
âIs that a space heater?â
âBorrowed it from my next door neighbor.â Heâs already crouched by the outlet, plugging it in and aiming it at the sofa. âHe has his girlfriend over, so he wonât need this.â
You roll your eyes at his suggestive tone.Â
 âPlus he felt bad when I told him about your situation.â
âYou told him?â
âRelax, I meant your heating situation. Not yourâŚâ He glances at you, eyes skimming a bit too long over your form, ââŚother situation.â
You tug your sweater lower, warmth prickling up your chest for a different reason now. âStop saying situation.â
âWould you prefer predicament? Circumstance? Mistake?â
âIâd prefer you forget it ever happened.â
He fiddles with the heater settings, then stands and looks at you.
âBit difficult, that,â he says.
âWhy?â
He turns away, busying himself with the wine. âBecause in all the years Iâve known you, thatâs the first time youâve ever texted me something that wasnât a complaint or a threat.â
âThatâs notââ You cut yourself off, frowning. â... True.â
He grins, handing you a mug which you take with a scowl.
âCome on. Youâre shivering over there.â He sits, patting the spot beside him.
You hesitate, but the heater and the wine conspire against your self-control, and you find yourself sitting next to him, careful to keep a gap. You wrap your hands around the mug, breathing in the spiced steam as the heat seeps into your frozen fingers.
âSo,â he says, pulling out his phone. âWant to see something funny?â
âIf itâs the photoââ
âNo.â He scrolls. âItâs Jinoââ
âJenoâ
ââwhatever. His Instagram.â He tilts the screen your way. Row after row of gym selfies, every caption worse than the last.
ââGrind never stops,ââ you read, making a face. ââDiscipline is my love language.â Oh my god.â
âThatâs who you were sending nuââ he gestures, one eyebrow raised.
âFestive greetings. Shut up.â
He grins, holding the phone just out of reach when you lunge. ââMuscles are built in the kitchenâ? Come on, Y/N.â
âHeâs nice!â
âHe refers to himself as an alpha unironically.â
âHow do you evenââ You scramble closer, grabbing for the phone, nearly spilling your wine. The movement makes the bells under your sweater jingle faintly, and you freeze, feeling a flush creep up your neck.
âYou're still wearing it?â His voice drops half an octave.
You freeze, caught like a goddamn rabbit under a hawkâs shadow. âI forgot it was there,â you lie.
He lets out a soft laugh. Not his usual smug, shit-eating grin. Darker.Â
âYeah?â he says. âYou forgot youâre sitting next to me in fucking lingerie?â
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. There was nothing to say.
He says nothing either, elbow on the back of the sofa, wine in one hand, and staring intently. His eyes drag across your face, your flushed cheeks, down to where your sweater bunches at your thighs, as if he could see the garter strap underneath. Like he remembered exactly what was in that photo, and now he was imagining it all over againâexcept this time, two feet away.
âJesus Christ,â he mutters, running a hand through his hair and looking away.
You want to make a joke, deflect, do anything besides sit there.
âStop,â you say quietly, when he tilts his head and opens his mouth again. âDonât make this into something.â
âMake what into something?â he asks, far too innocent.
âThis. The... situation.â
His smile is sharp. âYou mean the one you told me to stop saying out loud?â
You put your mug down before your hands could betray how hard they were shaking. âYes.â
He glances at your knees. Then at your fucking sweater again, and the way you were pulling it lower, as if it could somehow shield you from how naked the air between you had become.
âOkay,â he says, sitting up, setting his own wine down. âLetâs not make it into something. Letâs just sit here, like weâre normal people, sharing some warm wine by a borrowed space heater. Letâs not talk about the fact that youâre wearing lingerie underneath that. Letâs pretend I didnât spend the entire ride here wondering what the fuck I was walking into.â
You swallow. âYou came over to make sure I didnât embarrass myself further.â
He smiles.
âNo,â he says. âI came over because I couldnât stop picturing it. Because every time I blinked, it was just you, in that red fucking lace.â
A silent gasp leaves your parted lips. Whatâs with the sudden tension? Why is he saying these things?
âAnd then I get here,â he continues, âand you open the door like nothing and youâve got this little sweater on, acting all flustered and innocent. Meanwhileââ his eyes drop again, ââyouâre jingling every time you move. Teasing me.â
âStop,â you say. Your voice doesnât sound like your own.
âWhy?â he asks, leaning forward now, elbows on knees. âYou donât want to talk about it? Fine. But Iâm losing my goddamn mind, and you're pretending this is some kind of accident.â
âIt was.â
âYou didnât take that picture by accident. You didnât pick out that set by accident. You didnât forget to change.â
Haechan's gaze sharpens, pinning you in place as he leans back against the cushions. His eyes flick downward, catching the subtle movement under your sweater, and a smirk curled his lips.
The wine buzzes in your head, turning his words from mortifying to... intriguing. You feel a spark of defiance ignite, the alcohol stripping away your usual hesitation. Instead of shrinking, you meet his stare, tilting your chin up just a fraction. âWhat if I didn't forget,â you say, your voice steadier than you expected. You uncross your legs, letting the bells chime once more. You watch as his smirk falters for a split second, his pupils dilating.
Before you realize, heâs shifting closer until his knee presses against yours, the heat of his body radiates through his jeans. âOh yeah?â Haechan's tone dips lower, teasing, turning predatory as his fingers brush the hem of your sweater, tracing the edge where it meets your thigh.
âSo you sent me that photo on purpose, so I could what? Imagine peeling it off you all night?â His thumb grazed the skin just above your knee, circling slowly, sending sparks up your leg.Â
Emboldened by the alcoholâs warmth spreading through you, you donât pull away. Instead, you lean in a little, your hand resting on his thigh, fingers pressing into the firm muscle there.Â
âMaybeâ you whisper, the alcohol making your inhibitions dissolve like sugar in hot liquid. You can feel the dampness building between your folds, the thong growing slick as his words paint vivid pictures in your mind.Â
Haechan's eyes darken, his free hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at the nape of your neck.Â
âThen you're playing a dangerous game.â His breath is warm against your skin as he leans closer. He tugs gently at the collar of your sweater, exposing the strap of your bra, the lace edge peeking out.Â
The heater drones, the bells jingle, and for a suspended, ridiculous instant you register every outrageous detail at once: Haechanâs palm splayed hot over your ribcage, the hiss of his breath against your sternum, him moving to kneel between your legs.
âWanna play Monopoly instead then?â you blurt, because your default coping mechanism is apparently panicked jokes while half-naked.
He huffs a laugh against your skin, mouth still hovering indecent inches from your bra. âPretty sure you Iâd bankrupt you in ten moves.â His thumbs stroke slow circles over the lace, coaxing goose-bumps you feel all the way down to your calves. âAnd Iâm more of a chess man anyway. I like long games.â
Long games. Wonderful.Â
You plant a shaky hand on his shoulder and manage a breathy, âYouâre terrible at chess. You always forget the knights move in L-shapes.â
âCorrection.â He kisses the edge of the bra, voice muffled. âI know exactly how the knights move. I just prefer aââ another kiss, lower, ââmore aggressive opening.â
God. âAggressive openings are u-unnecessary.â
âI can be patient.â He nips your sternum lightly, then leans back just far enough that cool air hits the damp spot his mouth left behind. âThough my patience has limits.â
You intend to reply but the sight of him kneeling between your knees steals the alphabet from your tongue. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown, but thereâs wicked amusement still glinting at the edges.
He runs a fingertip down the center of your stomach, like marking squares on a board. âHereâs the thing⌠Every time these bells go offââhe flicks one, soft chime echoingââIâm picturing exactly how you looked in that photo. Except now youâre warm under my handsâ
âThatâs⌠not helping,â you manage, hips tipping forward of their own accord. The bell rings again and he hums approval deep in his chest, as if the sound feeds him.
âWasnât trying to.â He nudges your knees wider, the gesture almost gentlemanly, except for the promise simmering beneath. âBut since youâre so invested in fair playââ
He slips his free hand behind his neck, drags his scarf loose, then shrugs the coat off with theatrical slowness. Button by button, layer by layer, until the sofa swallows the fabric and heâs stripped to a black T-shirt that clings to lean muscle. You swallow. Hard.
âYour move,â he murmurs. âWant me to stop?â
Itâs a genuine offer, a clear exit, but you canât drag your gaze from the vein flexing in his forearm, canât ignore the ache blooming low every time your garter shifts.
Instead of answering, you hook your fingers under the hem of your sweater and tug. Cool air kisses your ribcage, then warmer air, then Haechanâs stare, molten and adoring all at once. His lips part on a silent expletive.
âShitââ He runs a hand through his hair. âOkay. Definitely a dangerous game.â
He stares at the red lace hugging your breasts, squishing them together so deliciously they seem about ready to burst from the confinement. The sight is a million times better than in the picture.
He leans in again, one palm settling on your knee, sliding upward with delicious inevitability.
âI thought you were a skilled player, show me then.â You breathe, and if he was restraining himself before, the words shred the leash.
Heâs on you in a second, mouth reclaiming your lips, tongue tracing the seam until you open willingly, hungrily. His other hand skates up your spine, pushing you closer to him.
When he pulls back, both of you are gasping. âYou realize,â he says, thumb brushing your kiss-swollen bottom lip, âthereâs no walking this back.â
You catch the thumb with your teeth, bite just hard enough to watch his eyes flare. âThen letâs walk it forward.â
His laugh is low, reverent, almost incredulous. âForward it is.â
He coaxes you onto your back, clothes discarded beside the lingerie, bells chiming faint approval.
âThese bells,â he murmurs, thumb dragging against your skin, âare ridiculous.â
Your hand slides up his thigh, brushing the growing bulge in his jeans. âDonât act like you donât like them now.âÂ
He inhales sharply, and his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek like heâs fighting a smile.
âFuck, look at you,â he growls, voice rough with desire. âKeep that up, and I won't be able to stop at just teasing.â He hooks a finger under the garter, snapping it lightly against your skin.
You press your palm flat against his erection, feeling it twitch under the denim. âWho said I want you to stop?â you shoot back, your words slurring just a touch from the alcohol, but laced with intent.
The bells jingle as you move closer, your free hand tugging at his shirt to pull him toward you.
Haechan's control cracks then. He captures your mouth in a fierce kiss again, his tongue sweeping in to claim yours, tasting of spiced wine.
His hand delves under your sweater, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, then up to cup your breast through the lace bra, thumb rolling over your hardening nipple.
You moan into his mouth, arching into his touch. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck and nips at the sensitive skin while his other hand plays with the garter belt and the bells that dangle teasingly.
âThese are fucking distracting,â he murmurs against your collarbone, his fingers plucking at one bell, making it ring out as he kisses lower, his mouth hovering over the swell of your breast. He tugs the bra cup down, latching onto your nipple with a wet suck that draws a sharp cry from you.
Your hands fumble with his belt. Boldness surges as you pop the button on his jeans and slide your hand inside to wrap around his thickening cock. He feels hot and hard in your grip, the veins pulsing under your fingers. You stroke him slowly, matching the rhythm of his mouth on your breast.
âShit, yes,â Haechan groans, his hips bucking into your hand. He releases your nipple with a pop, his eyes locking on yours, wild and intense. âYou're full of surprises tonight. That wineâs turning my good girl into a tease.â
He pushes you back against the sofa cushions, his body covering yours as he kisses you again, deeper this time, his fingers slipping between your thighs. They brush the edge of your thong, finding the soaked lace clinging to your core.
âSo fucking wet already,â he teases, rubbing slow circles over your clit through the fabric. You grind against his hand, feeling bolder still, your free hand tangling in his hair to pull him closer.
âMore,â you demand breathily, the wine stripping away any shyness. Haechan chuckles darkly, slipping the thong aside to trace your slick folds with two fingers, spreading your wetness without entering you yet.
He teases your entrance, while his thumb presses firmly on your clit, building the pressure until your thighs quiver. The bells ring out in a frantic melody as you writhe, your strokes on his cock growing faster.
He captures your wrist gently, pulling your hand away just enough to shed his shirt, revealing the lean muscles of his chest. Then he kneels between your legs again, hooking his fingers on the edges of the thong and pulling it properly to the side.
âLet's hear those bells one more time,â he says with a wicked grin, positioning you so your legs drape over his shoulders. His mouth descends, tongue flicking out to lap at your clit in long strokes, while his hands grip your ass, thumbs parting your cheeks slightly for better access.
You cry out, nails digging into the sofa, feeling every wet slide of his tongue, every suck that makes you clench around him. He delves lower, tongue thrusting into your entrance, fucking you with it shallowly as his nose bumps your clit. The tension coils tighter, your boldness shining through as you rock against his face.
âHaechan⌠donât stop,â you gasp, one hand reaching down to tangle in his hair.
He growls in approval, the vibration sending jolts through you. Rising up, he frees his cock fully, stroking it once as he lines up with your dripping pussy. âYou want this? All of me?â he asks, rubbing the head along your folds, coating himself in your arousal, prolonging the tease.
âYes, please!â you urge, guiding him in with your hips.
He thrusts forward slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching you until he bottoms out, both of you groaning at the fullness. He pauses there, his hips flush against yours, letting you adjust to the thick length.
His eyes lock on yours, dark and intense, as he rolls his hips in a slow circle, grinding against your inner walls and brushing your clit with his pubic bone.
âFuck, youâre so tight,â he murmurs, voice rough, before pulling back almost all the way out, the drag of his cock against your sensitive spots making you whimper.
He slams back in with a sharp thrust, the impact jolting the sofa and setting the bells to a sharp chime. You arch up, meeting him, your hands clutching his shoulders as he finds a steady rhythm of deep, measured strokes that have him withdrawing to the tip before plunging back in.
The pace builds gradually, his hands sliding under your ass to lift you slightly, changing the angle so he hits that spot deeper inside you with every push. You moan loudly, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, urging him deeper. Sweat beads on his chest, glistening under the Christmas lights, and you canât resist leaning up to lick a stripe across his collarbone, tasting the salt of him. He groans in response and speeds up, his thrusts turning harder, more insistent.
âLike that? Fuck, you take my cock so well,â he pants, one hand moving to pinch your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he fucks into you relentlessly.
The coil in your belly tightens, pleasure sparking with each grind, but it still isnât enough. You need more, the edge hovering just out of reach. You buck your hips up to meet his, clenching around him deliberately, drawing a hiss from his lips.
âGod, yesâkeep doing that,â he demands, shifting his weight to hook one of your legs over his arm, opening you wider. This new position lets him drive even deeper, his cock stretching you to the limit with every brutal snap of his hips.
The sofa creaks beneath you, the bells a constant, erotic soundtrack, and you feel the pressure building, layer by layer, as he alternates between fast, shallow pumps that tease your entrance and long, slow drags that fill you utterly.
Your breaths come in gasps, bodies slick and sliding together, the room filling with the obscene sounds of your coupling, the squelch of your pussy gripping him, his grunts mingling with your cries. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he swallows your moans. Breaking away, he nips at your jaw, your neck, marking you with light bites while his free hand slips between your bodies to rub firm circles on your clit.
The dual sensation pushes you closer, your walls fluttering around his pistoning cock. âHaechan, Iâmâfuck,â you whine, nails raking down his back and leaving red trails that make him thrust even harder in response.
He is close tooâyou can tell from the way his rhythm falters, his cock twitching inside youâbut he is holding back, drawing it out, wanting to shatter you first.
âCome on, baby, let go for me,â he urges, voice strained, his fingers working your clit faster now, matching the relentless pace of his hips.
The bells chime wildly as your body tenses, the orgasm cresting slowly at first, then exploding in a rush that has you screaming his name. Your cunt clamps down hard, spasming in rhythmic pulses that milk his cock. Waves of ecstasy rip through you, making your vision blur and toes curl.
He follows seconds later, burying himself to the hilt with a final, deep thrust, his release flooding you in hot spurts. âShitâyes,â he groans, body shuddering as he pumps through it, prolonging both your highs until he has nothing left.
Only then does he collapse beside you, both of you panting, chests heaving. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your thigh, and the bells are finally quiet.
You wake up to several immediate regrets:
1. Your muscles are screaming in an everything-hurts-and-I-know-exactly-why kind of way.
2. Haechan is humming "All I Want for Christmas Is You" in your kitchen way too cheerfully for someone responsible for your inability to sit cross-legged ever again.
3. The bells are still on your floor, glinting like mocking little ghosts of choices past.
"Stop that," you croak from the sofa, your voice demolished. Wrecked. A casualty of making sounds you didn't know you were capable of.
He appears in the doorway holding two mugs, wearing your "Grinch Don't Kill My Vibe" pajama pants that sit criminally low on his hips. "Morning, jingles."
"Do not."
"Bells."
"Haechanâ"
"My little Christmas miracle." He's grinning now. "My festive angel. Myâ"
"I will throw this pillow at you."
"Didn't get enough violence last night?" He sets the mug down, dramatically rubbing his shoulder. "I think you bit me at one point."
You take a shirt from the floor (his shirt, you notice) and put it on, trying to look like someone who isnât sore in muscles they didn't know existed. "I can't go to dinner. I'll die. I'll burst into flames at the door. My mother will take one look at me and know."
"Know what?"
"That Iâthat weâ" You gesture helplessly between you.
"Had athletic, boundary-destroying sex that made you reconsider your stance on atheism?"
"I hate you."
"You really don't." He sips his coffee. "Your neighbors might, though. Pretty sure Mrs. Chen heard you calling meâ"
You slap a hand over his mouth. He licks it. You shriek and wipe it on his chest.
"Also," he adds cheerfully, "I texted your mom. Told her we'd be late because you had a 'wardrobe emergency.'"
"A what?"
"Well, I couldn't say 'your daughter can't walk properly because I rearranged her spine,' could I?" He flops next to you on the sofa, bouncing once to make you wince. "Though technically, the emergency is that you're not wearing much of a wardrobe."
"HAECHAN."
Half an hour later, youâre sitting in his car, gripping the door handle like you're about to jump out at a red light. He's connected his phone to Bluetooth and is purposely playing "Jingle Bell Rock" at low volume.
"I will end you," you mutter.
"You already did. My back looks like I fought a tiger." He shows you a glimpse of the scratches behind his shoulder, looking far too proud. "How do I explain these? 'Oh, these? Y/N just really loves Christmas?'"
"Tell them you fell."
"Into what? A wood chipper?â
You didnât dignify his attempt at a joke with a response, already feeling less than willing to express any kind of positive emotion in this supposed jolly day.
Truthfully, you were not upset at Haechan. You were upset with yourself for letting things get to this point, and even more for actually enjoying it to the point where you keep replaying every moment of it in your head.
Suddenly youâre pulling up at your parentâs driveway and Haechan is turning to you with dancing eyes. "Here we are! Ready?â
âNo.â
âToo bad.â He leans closer. âTry not to make that face when your mother asks how we slept.â
"LALALA CAN'T HEAR YOU." You scramble out of the car.
Your mother opens the door before you reach it, and Haechan immediately transforms into the perfect guest.
"Mrs. Y/L/N! You look radiant! Is that a new apron?"
"Oh, Haechan, you charmer!" She's beaming, completely taken in. "Come in, come in!"
He follows you in, and as you pass, he whispers, "You're walking like a baby giraffe."
"And you're about to die," you hiss back.
Haechan has positioned himself directly across from you at the table, which was a mistake because now he's making eyes at you over the roast potatoes.
"So Haechan," your father starts, "how's work going?"
âGreat, sir.â He keeps his voice spotless while rolling a green bean in gravy in the filthiest way imaginable. âJust got promoted.â
Your mother claps. âY/N, did you know Haechan was promoted?â
âNo,â you say flatly. âWe donât update each other on our lives. That would require me speaking to him voluntarily.â
"I don't like to brag," Haechan interrupts smoothly. "Y/N's been very supportive though. Very... hands-on with her support."
You kick him under the table. He catches your foot between his legs and holds it there.
"That's nice," your mother says. "You two have been getting along better lately."
Mark snorts into his wine. "Since when?"
"Oh, we're getting along great," Haechan agrees, running his thumb over your ankle. "Really found our rhythm, haven't we, Y/N?"
You're trying to pull your foot back but he's holding it hostage. "R--right. Yes."
"In fact," Haechan continues, now massaging your foot under the table while maintaining perfect eye contact with your father, the absolute sociopath, "just last night we were discussing how well we work together."
"You were?" Mark asks suspiciously.
"Yes," Haechan continues cheerfully, now eating mashed potatoes in a way that brings back vivid sense memories of his tongue doing things to you, "we had a very thorough discussion. Covered all the angles. Really got into it. Deep into it."
Your wine glass shakes as you set it down.
"Multiple positions," he adds thoughtfully. " I mean on the subject, different positions on the subject."
"What subject?" your father asks, bless his oblivious heart.
"Life," Haechan says philosophically. "Passion. The importance of... tension and release."
You stand so abruptly your chair screeches. "BATHROOM."
Youâre standing by your motherâs frost-covered roses, pressing your cold fingers to your burning cheeks, trying to make sense of the last eighteen hours. The marks on your neck throb faintly. Your thighs still ache. And somewhere between last night and this morning, Lee Haechan has completely rewired your brain chemistry.
This is the same boy who put green food coloring in your shampoo and called you âGrincheyâ two Christmases ago. Same one youâve spent years cultivating a careful, sustained annoyance toward, like tending to a particularly bitter garden.
So why canât you stop thinking about him?
âPlotting your escape?â
You jump. Heâs standing there with two pieces of Christmas pudding, looking unfairly good in his stupid Christmas sweater, the one your mom bought him two years ago that he actually kept. Youâd made fun of him for it then.
âPlotting your murder, actually.â
âAw.â He holds out a plate. âPeace offering?â
You take it, careful not to let your fingers touch his. Canât trust yourself anymore, apparently.
âWhat was all that âwe found our rhythmâ crap?â
"We did, though." He takes a bite of pudding, considering. "We should try more next time."
You turn to glare at him, but heâs not looking at you with his usual teasing smirk. Instead, thereâs something softer in his eyes that makes your stomach drop in a way that has nothing to do with last nightâs activities.
âWhat?â you ask.
âNothing. JustâŚâ He sets down his plate, runs a hand through his hair. âDo you know how long Iâve wanted to do that?â
âHave sex on my broken sofa? Weird kink, but okay.â
âY/N.â The way he says your name makes you look back. âIâm being serious.â
âSince when are you serious?â
âSince you walked into your parentsâ house freshman year wearing that ridiculous reindeer onesie and told me my haircut looked like a hedgehog had died on my head.â
You blink. âThat was ages ago.â
âFour years, three months, and roughly two weeks.â Heâs studying the frozen roses now, purposefully not looking at you. âBut whoâs counting.â
âWhy⌠why do you even remember that?â
He tilts his head, looking faintly amused at your confusion. âWhy do you think?â
ââŚYouâve liked me since thenâŚâ
âLiked is a generous word for what I felt when you were being a pain in my ass.â He finally looks at you, and that vulnerability is back, the one that makes him look younger.
âButâ but the girls youâve dated are so different. I mean Iâm not your type at all.â
âGod you are so blind.â He chuckles incredulously.
Suddenly, youâre thinking about all the moments youâd dismissed. How he always brought your favorite snacks. How he remembered how you take your coffee and always made it better than anyone else. How he terrorized every guy you dated but played it off as "brotherly" concern.
âOh my god,â you breathe. âYouâre in love with me.â
âYeah, well.â He shrugs, trying for casual but failing entirely. âSurprise?â
âYouâre in love with me and you let me send you that photoââ
âI mean it was an accident.â
ââand you came over and you brought wine and you fixed my heatingââ
âTechnically, I didnât fix your heatingââ
ââand then you fucked me on my sofa knowing youâve been in love with me for FOUR YEARS?â
He winces. âWhen you put it like that, it sounds weird.â
âIt sounds insane!â Youâre pacing now, the pudding forgotten. âWho does that? Who just⌠sits on feelings for four years?â
âSomeone whose best friend would murder them for touching his sister?â He catches your hand, stops your pacing. âSomeone who was terrified of ruining the only excuse he had to see you? Someone who was willing to take whatever he could get, even if it was just annoying you at Christmas dinners?â
You stare at him. Past the jokes and the smugness and the playful torture. Thereâs Haechan, who drove over at 9 PM on Christmas Eve because your heating was broken. Who made sure you were warm and safe and⌠oh.
âI think I have feelings for you too,â you say, and it comes out accusatory. âWhich is frankly inconvenient.â
His whole face changes. âYeah?â
âI mean, I hated you twelve hours ago.â
âNo, you didnât.â
âI strongly disliked you.â
âI donât even think you believe that.â
âIâŚâ You think about last night, how easy it was to let him in, how right it felt when he kissed you, how youâd wanted him to stay even after the sex. âYouâre annoying and insufferable and you eat all my good snacks andââ
He kisses you, cutting off your spiral. Which you were secretly glad for because you were starting to miss his lips when they werenât on yours. What the hell was happening?
âAnd?â he prompts against your lips.
âAnd I canât stop thinking about you,â you admit. âLast night was⌠but even before that, you were everywhere. In my head. Under my skin. Itâs extremely annoying.â
âOh no,â he grins, âare you admitting you love me back?â
âIâm admitting youâre less horrible than anticipated.â
âPractically a declaration of love from you.â He pulls you closer, and you realize youâre not cold anymore. Havenât been since he came outside.
"By the way, I still have your underwear in my bag."
"WHATâ"
He pulls back just enough to see your face. "Mark asked if I had a cat toy in there because of all the jingling."
"I'm taking everything I said back. And moving to Antarctica. Iâm gonna be a penguin scientist."
"Penguins mate for life, you know."
"Not the kind I'll study. Mine will be commitment-phobic penguins."
He laughs softly and kisses you again. Soft and sure and nothing like last night's desperate heat. This is a promise kiss. A Sunday morning kiss. A forty-years-from-now kiss.
"Your family's taking bets," he murmurs against your lips, "on how long before we admit we're together. Your dad has Valentine's Day. Your mom's betting on New Year's. Mark, pessimistically, has next Christmas."
"And you?"
He grins, that playful grin that started this whole mess. "Oh, I already won."
"How?"
"Bet on Christmas Eve." He kisses you again softly. "I always had good timing."
From inside, Mark's voice carries: "ARE THEY KISSING?"
Your mother's response: "Leave them alone, they're having a moment!"
"WE'RE NOT HAVING A MOMENT," you shout back.
"Speak for yourself, jingles" He says loudly, "WE'RE HAVING A VERY EMOTIONAL MOMENT!"
"I swear to godâ"
"Come on." He tugs you toward the house, fingers laced with yours. "Let's go inside before you freeze. Can't have you catching cold before our New Year's plans."
"We don't have New Year's plans."
"We do now. You, me, and the bells."
"I'm burning those bells."
"Please don't. They're sentimental to me now."
You let him pull you back into the warmth, where your family is pretending very badly not to stare, where Mark looks like he needs several shots of whiskey, where your mother is already planning what is clearly a wedding in her head.
You understand with perfect clarity that you're completely fucked. You're going to fall stupidly in love with Lee Haechan. Probably already have.
thank you for reading! any feedback is greatly appreciated! <3
OH MYGOD OHMYGODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD THIS IS SOOOOO FUNNY, HILARIOUS, CUTE, CUTE, FUNNY, AND CUTE I'M SMILING AND GIGGLING SO STUPID WHILE READING THIS. i am so in love with them both đ plus their family's so adorable AND hilarious too lmaoooo mark probably losing his shit and while i KNOW he's not totally opposed to it he's not too fond of it either as the big bro and the best friend đđđ but he just has to accept it lmaoooo i am loving all of this so fucking much this made my day
pairing: grad student!haechan x grad student!reader
genre: fluff, slight angst
word count: 10.2k
synopsis: academic validation and beating lee donghyuck are your only motivations in life. spoiler alert: you end up achieving only one of the two.
authorâs note: this was supposed to be released for holo LMAO better late than never? anyways ladies this is fiction <3 do NOT ever give a male english major the time of day - signed an english major (p.s. i mention christmas exactly one time in this so this counts as a holiday fic)
warning(s): sexism in academia, brief descriptions of sexual harassment
playlist: rose-colored boy by paramore â enemies by lauv â always, everytime by the wrecks â Â let it happen by gracie abrams â running home by jade lemac
Act I) And when I close my eyes, I see you for who you truly are, which is UUUG-LAY.
When it comes to receiving bad news, you would consider yourself pretty good at handling it. Youâve always been the type to compartmentalize and try to find the most rational way to react. Having such an analytical personality is part of the reason why you decided to pursue an English degree in college. Sure, some may consider you cold and elitist, but to that you respondâwell, yes!
That being said, youâre about 30 seconds away from hurling up your breakfast burrito and $8 matcha latte in a projectile fashion.Â
You stare at Dr. Min, the Program Director of the English Department and your mentor, like she just dropkicked you in the gut. Normally, your mouth would be agape with despair and horror, but you smartly keep your lips sealed tight due to previously mentioned urge to spill chunks all over her pristine office.Â
The situation is worsened by the fact that there is a creature standing right beside you, looking only slightly disgruntled. Like he just received a cup of cold coffee level of disgruntled. As if Dr. Min didnât just casually destroy your entire world.Â
The creature goes by the name of Lee Donghyuck. Heâs barely a human, simply masquerading as one with his fluffy hair and glowy skin. Rather, heâs just a walking, talking literary reference to the most pretentious authors ever. His sole reason for existence is to compete with you for teacherâs pet. The two of you have been vying for Dr. Minâs attention since you both got into grad school. More specifically, you both have been competing for the eventual letter of recommendation that youâll need from her in order to get into the highly prestigious PhD program. Sheâs super selective of who she will write the letter for, so you and Donghyuck essentially have been in a constant WWE brawl to kiss her ass.Â
âTwo graduate faculty members are on sabbatical, so the amount of staff available to vote on your papers are an even number,â Dr. Min had explained, âHence, why weâre in this situation. You both have the same amount of votes.âÂ
âCanât you just be the tiebreaker, Dr. Min?â Donghyuck asks, carding a hand through his brown hair. Itâs still tinted a light purple hue from when he dyed it to cosplay Rafayel from Love and Deepspace for Halloween. Yes, he does play a gacha dating sim about random men who look AI-generated. Of his many sins, this is low on your list.Â
Dr. Min shakes her head, smiling apologetically. âYou know I always abstain from voting when it comes to my menteesâ papers.âÂ
âSo, whatâs going to happen now? Which one of us will be going to the symposium?â you ask, finally managing to gather yourself and speak up. Despite your best efforts, you feel another wave of nausea hit you when Dr. Min glances your way. Thereâs something about the way sheâs so poised and collected that always makes you think sheâs silently judging you.Â
âThatâs what Iâve called you both here for,â she trails off, clapping her hands together. âIâve decided that, for the first time in this universityâs history, we will be sending two representatives to the annual Shakespeare Scholars Research Symposium!âÂ
Dr. Min pauses, most likely expecting celebratory cheers from the two of you. However, sheâs met with stone-cold silence. You and Donghyuck just stand there stiffly, arms hanging limp by your sides and faces scrunched like you just ate the dog food flavored jelly bean from the BeanBoozled game.Â
âDonât get too excited, now,â Dr. Min jokes awkwardly. âWhy the doom and gloom?âÂ
âButâŚour papers are way too similar. It wouldnât make sense for both of us to go,â you protest.Â
As much as you hate to admit it, you and Donghyuck are often interested in the same topics and themes when it comes to your research papers. This time is also no exception. For this paper, you decided to write about the female empowerment in the classic 1999 romcom 10 Things I Hate About You compared to the original source material, Shakespeareâs The Taming of the Shrew. Meanwhile, Donghyuck (because heâs incapable of not riding on your coattails) decided to write about gender identity in the classic 2006 romcom Sheâs the Man compared to Shakespeareâs Twelfth Night.Â
âWell, the concepts are certainly similar, but the actual content is different,â Dr. Min replies, âBesides, I think we need more pop culture in academia.âÂ
When you and Donghyuck fail to respond again, she huffs. âCome on, you guys! I know the two of you are competitive, but itâs a wonderful opportunity. This is going to look amazing on your CV when you apply for the PhD program.âÂ
The mention of the PhD program makes you and Donghyuck perk up like meerkats, and you know Dr. Min did it on purpose.Â
âThank you so much for the opportunity, Dr. Min. We would be happy to represent the university together,â Donghyuck quickly says, putting on the fakest smile youâve ever seen. His eyes sparkle in a way that reminds you of those shiny plastic dolls that end up having a demonic spirit in them. Then he looks over at you and beams through grit teeth, âWouldnât we?âÂ
A fake smile of your own slowly spreads across your face like paralyzing venom as you glare at Donghyuck. âYes, of course.âÂ
âGood.â Dr. Min nods, satisfied. âIâm glad to see that you two are getting along better. Iâll see you on Friday at the airport, bright and early.âÂ
You and Donghyuck say your goodbyes to her before marching out of her office like the twins from The Shining. The moment the door closes behind you, the two of you recoil from each other like being within 6 feet of one another will make your skin melt off. You both start speedwalking to the exit of the building at the same pace, completely parallel to each other on opposite sides of the hallway.Â
âYou are such a two-faced liar,â you hiss in a hushed whisper, âAlways making me look like the difficult one while youâre all happy-go-lucky, kumbaya.âÂ
âWell, if it always looks like it, then maybe itâs the case, donât you think?â Donghyuck sweetly retorts.Â
âOoh, burn,â you say sarcastically, âYour words might actually have some merit if there wasnât steam coming off the top of your overinflated, egoistic head. I know youâre just as pissed about this as I am.âÂ
âOh, Y/N. You are always so shortsighted,â Donghyuck sighs dramatically, shaking his head. âDonât you see the bigger picture?
âOh, this will be good,â you say wryly, crossing your arms and waiting for him to continue.Â
âElementary, my dear Watsonââ he starts.
âDoyle never wrote that lineââ you quickly interrupt.Â
He rolls his eyes. âYou donât deserve to be Watson. Youâre Moriarty.âÂ
âWhy do I feel like I have to go through the Labors of Hercules in order for you to get to your point whenever I talk to you?â you demand.Â
âAs I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, this symposium will be a great opportunity to settle this once and for all. You know they always give out a Best Research Paper award at the end. We may have tied today, but our tiebreaker can be that award. Whoever wins gets the recommendation letter from Dr. Min,â Donghyuck smugly explains.Â
âYou know, maybe thereâs not just Helium in that skull of yours,â you smile, âI think thatâs a great idea. I suppose a broken clock is right twice a day. â
âYou are so eloquent when it comes to insulting me, yet I donât see any of that fire in your actual writing?â Donghyuck questions, blinking innocently.Â
âOh, Iâll show youââÂ
Youâre just about to rattle off another one of your eloquent insults when a loud howl of wind from the outside interrupts you, making the two of you jolt. Just as you reach the doors to the building, you see through the glass that the sky is a smoky, hazy gray. Rain is starting to fall, and it looks like it's about to become a torrential downpour in a little bit.Â
You curse under your breath, thinking about your five minute walk to the bus station and whether or not you can beat out the thunderstorm.Â
âWell, this certainly has to be a bad omen,â Donghyuck says unhelpfully.Â
You jerk your head towards him and jab a finger in his direction. âThis isnât over. I have to catch the bus before I get waterboarded by this rain. Iâll deal with you on Friday. Until then, stay out of my sight.âÂ
Donghyuck shrugs, fishing out an umbrella from his backpack. Because of course he needs to flaunt the fact that he has an umbrella and you donât.Â
âSounds good to me,â he replies casually.Â
Steeling yourself for the rain and wind to pelt your face, you open the door in one fell swoop and walk outsideâexcept youâre not getting wet because Donghyuck is trailing behind you and holding his umbrella above your head.Â
âUh, why are you following me?â you ask as he moves to walk beside you, even though you know his car is parked in the opposite direction.Â
âCurb your main character syndrome, Y/N. I have somewhere to be, and it happens to be in the same direction,â he sighs.Â
âWhere?â you probe, suspicious.Â
âI donât believe thatâs any of your business,â he answers snottily.Â
âThen why are you sharing your umbrella with me? Did you get visited by three ghosts on Christmas?â you demand.Â
âIs it really sharing if youâre just standing next to me and happen to be in the radius of my umbrella?â he ponders.Â
âYouâre like a bridge troll that asks people three riddles before letting them pass,â you sigh.Â
âPlease. As if you could ever solve my riddles.âÂ
You respond by flipping him off, and he just grins.Â
The two of you walk the rest of the way in silence, the sounds of the rain growing heavier and cars speeding by serving as your only background noise. Occasionally, his elbow bumps your arm due to your proximity to each other. The mixture of the thick humidity in the air and the drifting scent of his fabric softener makes your head swim.Â
When you make it to the bus station, you donât say bye to him, nor does he say it to you. Instead, he swiftly turns on his heel and walks back. He doesnât look back at you either, so your eyes linger on his back for just a tad longer than they should.Â
You notice that one of his shoulders is damp, the sleeve of his shirt sticking to his skin, as raindrops roll down his arm.Â
Act II) Ooh, see that, there. Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?
Donghyuck is being eerily quiet this morning, and itâs starting to unnerve you.Â
He didnât even jump at the opportunity to compliment Dr. Minâs new haircut (that she got specifically for this conference) the moment she arrived at the airport. When the three of you walked over to the security check line, he just stood there, thumbs tucked underneath the straps of his backpack as he bounced on the balls of his feet. If he heard even a second of the conversation you and Dr. Min were having, he gave no indication of it.Â
Heâs never this silent unless heâs scheming something.Â
At one point, you started eyeing the security cameras nearby to see if you had accidentally gotten yourself on a prank show. As if this was all an elaborate setup by Donghyuck in order to humiliate you, and you werenât going to the symposium after all. For a brief moment, you imagine Dr. Min also being in on the ruse and laughing with him about how awful your paper was and how funny it is that you actually thought you had a chance.Â
Maybe your therapist was right about you having paranoia issues.Â
Your delusions begin taking over your mind until you finally canât take it anymore. Once the two of you get situated on the plane (Dr. Min got put up in first class, and you and Donghyuck were relegated to economy as lowly grad students), you finally ask:
âOkay, what is your problem? Youâre acting weirdâer than usual.â
Donghyuck is looking straight ahead, peering at the folded tray table on the seat in front of him. It takes him a second to acknowledge your words, turning towards you with a strained smirk.Â
âWow, are you worried about me?â His voice trembles.Â
It isnât until he turns towards you that you finally get a good look at his face. His normally glowing complexion is completely blanched, and his expression is strained, twisted into a grimace. In other words, he looks completely terrified. It scares you a little too.Â
âJesus,â you breathe, leaning in, ânow I kind of am. Are you sick?âÂ
âI guess thatâs one way to describe it,â he laughs, closing his eyes and leaning back. âMentally and physically, yes. But not, like, in a stomach flu kind of way.â
You pause, studying his face. âAre youâŚafraid of flying?â
He opens one eye and glances over at you. âHow much aura would I lose if I said yes?â
You lightly shove his arm. âBe serious. You have no aura anyways.âÂ
âOuch. Thatâs one of the more hurtful things youâve said to me recently.âÂ
âSeriously, are you okay?â you ask firmly.Â
âOf course,â he replies, inhaling but his breath hitches, âIâll have to be. This paper isnât going to present itself.âÂ
âWhy didnât you tell anyone?â
âWhat good would that do? Besides look super lame and give you another thing to hold against me,â he jokes.Â
You snort. âWhy would I hold this against you when I have actual legitimate reasons to find you lame?âÂ
Donghyuck looks genuinely taken aback, eyes widening like a newborn doe. His voice is quiet and hopeful, almost innocent, when he says, â...Yeah?âÂ
He sounds so sincere that you feel your face grow warm. âThat is so rude. What kind of monster do you think I am? No matter how much I hate you, Iâm not such a terrible person that I would make fun of your phobias.âÂ
He blinks. âNo, thatâs not what I meantââ
âWhatever. I donât want you to think I have something over you now, so weâll make it even,â you announce, âIâll tell you one of my fears too.âÂ
âY/N, you donât have toââ
âWhen we were going through security earlier and you were being super quiet, I fully thought you and Dr. Min had planned an elaborate prank on me in which I wasnât actually going to the symposium and that you were only letting me believe I was when, in fact, my paper was terrible,â you confess, blurting everything out in one breath.Â
Donghyuck stares at you, completely bewildered. âSo, you think Iâm such a monster that I wouldââÂ
âMy point being,â you continue, âthat I have an irrational fear of being left out. Because Iâm not good enough.âÂ
âY/NââÂ
âBut this doesnât mean that Iâm not gonna kick your ass at the symposium. I will be getting that award. JustâŚsometimes I gaslight myself into thinking the opposite,â you quickly add, realizing that you may have just given away a little too much of yourself.Â
Thatâs the thing with Donghyuck. Itâs really easy to forget about everything else when youâre bickering with him. Youâve never had to worry about what to say to him. Heâs so smug and annoying and irritating that it makes you feel like you can do anything if it means being able to beat him.Â
Maybe thatâs why you freaked out so much when he was so quiet this morning. Maybe thatâs why youâre telling him this now.Â
âYou know, you couldâve just said spiders or something,â he finally says after a long pause, a shit-eating grin finding its way to his lips. The color has come back to his face, and heâs got that mischievous spark in his eye again.Â
âFirstly, Iâm not afraid of spiders. Secondly, youâre an unbelievably huge asshole.â You cross your arms. âI canât believeââÂ
âY/N.â Donghyuck reaches over and gently tugs on the sleeve of your sweater. His touch makes you fall silent. âIâm only going to say this once. And if you try to bring it up again, Iâll deny it, so listen carefully.â
You roll your eyes, waiting for another terrible joke.Â
âLook at me,â he whispers, leaning in to make sure your eyes meet his. His brown eyes are so dark that they almost look black, like pools of obsidian, yet his gaze is so warm and firm as if you were being enveloped by a warm sunrise. The soft expression on his face anchors you to your seat, and you canât bring yourself to look away despite knowing you probably should.Â
âYou are brilliant,â he states, as if theyâre the truest words in the world.Â
His sincerity catches you completely off guard, and your mind goes blank. All you can think about is the way heâs looking at you like heâs never been more sure of anything else.Â
The two of you flinch when you hear the roar of the airplaneâs engine, indicating that itâs about to take off. Donghyuck clenches his jaw and pulls away, and you can see his entire body tense as he grips the armrest so hard that his knuckles turn white.Â
Ripping your eyes off of him, you reach under the seat for your backpack and fish out your AirPods with trembling fingers. Youâre still so shaken from earlier that you randomly select a playlist before handing one of the AirPods to Donghyuck. When he raises an eyebrow, you simply reply, âTo help you relax.âÂ
He wordlessly takes it and puts it in his ear, taking in the song. A few more seconds pass by before he, stifling a laugh, asks, âSo, your idea of relaxation is playing death metal at full volume?âÂ
You gasp, looking back down at your phone and realizing you had selected your road rage mix by accident. Too embarrassed to admit it, you reach over to take the AirPod out. âFine, be ungrateful then. Iâll listen by myself.â
Donghyuck tuts and leans his head away from your hand, nearly hitting it against the window. âExcuse me, I am trying to relax.â
âYouâre obnoxious.â
âCanât hear you over the sounds of my relaxation,â he says in a sing-song voice.Â
âWhatever,â you sigh, but youâre fighting a smile.
Throughout the flight, you occasionally sneak glances at Donghyuck, checking to see if heâs uncomfortable. Heâs always fast asleep, head leaning against the window and lips slightly parted. To your relief, he looks much more serene than he did at the start.Â
He still doesnât budge when the flight attendant comes around to hand out Biscoff cookies, and youâre tempted to steal his pack for yourself but decide against it. Instead, you begrudgingly put them in his lap. If you were anywhere else, you one-hundred percent would, but it doesnât feel right this time.Â
After scarfing down your cookies, you drift off yourself and donât wake up until a crackly announcement from the captain that your flight will be landing soon startles you awake. When you look over at Donghyuck, heâs still asleep. Shifting in your seat, you hear plastic crinkling in your lap, and you look down in confusion.Â
A pack of Biscoff cookies.Â
Taking a shaky deep breath, you lean back against your seat. The two-pack, cinnamon-flavored shortbread cookies sit in your lap like a ticking time bomb. You think about sharing an umbrella under the rain. You think about Donghyuckâs fear of flying. You think about how he thinks youâre brilliant. You think about these damn Biscoff cookies.Â
Suddenly, you wish you werenât sitting arm-to-arm with Donghyuck; you wish he was always a hallwayâs distance from you. Because that was the distance that you can think clearly when heâs around you. Because that was the distance beforeâÂ
Before.Â
Act III) Nonsense! You don't need a man to wear a beautiful dress!
âSomehow, there was a misunderstanding and only a single room was booked for the both of you.â
Well, so much for distance.Â
Dr. Min looks like she wants to crawl in a hole. âI am so sorry, you guys. The hotel is used to each university only bringing one student, so they werenât expecting two. And the hotel is fully booked for the symposium, so they donât have an extra room.âÂ
You and Donghyuck exchange defeated glances, too exhausted from the flight (for many reasons) to even react.
âNone of the nearby hotels have any available either,â Dr. Min continues, âso, I canât believe I have to ask this of you guys, but would you mind sharing a room? The room also has a sofa pull-out bed, and maybe you guys can rock-paper-scissors for it.âÂ
This certainly throws a wrench in your Avoid Lee Donghyuck Like the Plague weekend plans, but Dr. Min looks so stressed that you really donât want to further complicate things for her. When you look over at Donghyuck (something that you had been explicitly trying not to do), heâs already looking at you, waiting for your answer.Â
âItâs fine,â you finally say, sighing, âWeâre all grown-ups, after all.âÂ
Dr. Min turns to Donghyuck, expectant. He just shrugs, replying, âIf Y/Nâs okay with it.âÂ
âGreat. Thank you guys so much!â Dr. Min exclaims, clapping her hands together before handing you the room key. âYou guys can take some time to get some rest and freshen up. Donât forget weâre going to have dinner with a few of my colleagues tonight too. Meet me here at 7:30 sharp.âÂ
The two of you say your goodbyes before trudging over to the elevator. You donât say anything to each other even as you enter your cramped room, equipped with a single queen-sized bed and a sofa pull-out couch that looks like it hasnât been cleaned since the 60s.Â
You and Donghyuck just stare in disbelief for a moment before he turns towards you and holds out a fist. âRock, paper, scissors?â
âHuh?âÂ
âRock, paper, scissors!â You donât even have time to react as Donghyuck starts counting down, lowering his fist on every word.Â
Without thinking, you pick scissors, only for him to pick rock.Â
âLooks like I get the bed,â he says smugly.Â
âYou ambushed me. Thatâs not fair,â you demand, crossing your arms.Â
âTwo out of three?â
âRockpaperscissors!â you blurt at the speed of light, trying to catch him off guard.Â
This time, he picks scissors while you pick paper.Â
âYou suck,â you snap, shoving his hand away and stomping towards the pull-out couch before dropping your bag on it. Donghyuckâs laugh rings throughout the room like a bell from behind you.Â
This feels more like beforeâwhen he pissed you off more than anything. Donghyuck from before was too nice, too soft. Itâs actually better that youâre sleeping on the musty pull-out couch; this is more of your dynamic with him. Before he shared his umbrella with you. Before he told you about his fear of flying. Before he called you brilliant. Before you nearly had a panic attack over some Biscoff cookies.
âIâm getting ready first,â you say petulantly.Â
âBe my guest,â he replies, raising his hands up like heâs surrendering, âTake as long as you need.âÂ
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?âÂ
âBecause of the double standard, of course. Women have to uphold a much higher beauty standard, and there is more societal pressure for them to feel like they have to dress upââÂ
âHoly performative male.â You roll your eyes. âDo you cry when you think about women getting their periods, too?âÂ
âOnly when Iâm drinking my matcha and reading Sylvia Plath.â He winks.Â
After grabbing a change of clothes and your skincare regimen, you promptly push past him and close the bathroom door in his face.Â
.
.
.
In the end, it does take you a while to get ready. Between doing your skincare, putting on a full face of makeup, and styling your hair, you made sure to put in extra effort since you could be potentially networking with Dr. Minâs colleagues. You even brought your best evening gown in anticipation.Â
When you finally emerge from the bathroom, Donghyuck is sitting on the bed with his laptop, furiously typing away. His eyes briefly glance up at the sound of the door opening and returns to the screen before he does a double take, eyes widening when he finally sees you.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, nodding towards his laptop.Â
âOh.â He stops for a moment. âMy presentation notes. For the presentation. Tomorrow.âÂ
âWhat a vast vocabulary you have there, English major,â you tease, sitting on the edge of the bed so that you can slip your heels on. âAre you that nervous for tomorrow?âÂ
Donghyuck laughs, but itâs more like a breathless huff that he releases. âSomething like that.âÂ
âYouâre talking in riddles again. Whatever, just hurry up and get ready. We have to be down there in forty minutes,â you say after glancing at your phone.Â
Clearing his throat, he gives you a quick two-finger salute before closing his laptop and grabbing his stuff. He stiffly walks around you at an odd angle, as if you had an invisible force field around you, and keeps his eyes straight ahead.Â
While Donghyuck is getting ready, you scroll on TikTok, watching meditation videos and tutorials on breathing exercises in order to relax. You so badly want to make a good impression on Dr. Minâs colleagues (and, subsequently, on Dr. Min too) that youâre making yourself nauseous from imagining all the ways things could go wrong.Â
Youâre in the middle of a third attempt to completely clear your mind for a meditation exercise when Donghyuck steps out of the bathroom. Like the pain he is, he completely destroys any hope of a clear and sound mind as he walks over to you.Â
Donghyuck is wearing a navy blue dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and the top two buttons undone, tucked into a pair of black slacks. His hair is lightly gelled, and you hate how effortlessly handsome he is.Â
âWhat are you doing?â He asks, gesturing to your phone thatâs still playing a video of a woman sitting cross-legged and telling you to breathe in and out.Â
Hurriedly, you lock your phone and put it away in your purse. âNothing.âÂ
âWhy are you watching meditation videos? Nervous?âÂ
âWhy do you ask if you already know?â you retort.Â
âI enjoy the validation,â he replies smoothly, âSo, is that a yes?â
âYes, if you must know, I am nervous. Not all of us are natural-born ass-kissers, you know,â you hiss, âI need to get on their good side. Connections are everything in academia.âÂ
âAh, but you donât need meditation or ass-kissing to make a good impression. You forget the simplest method of all,â he points out.Â
âAnd that is?â
âBeing yourself,â he beams.Â
âThanks for the advice, Sesame Street. You think I wouldnât be doing that if it worked?â you ask wryly.Â
âHow would you know if youâve never tried it?â He crosses his arms.Â
You stand up, suddenly feeling slightly offended. âWhat are you implying?âÂ
âOh, I think you know.âÂ
âThat is so rich coming from you. Youâre the fakest of us all,â you snap, jabbing a finger in his chest.Â
âI never said it works for me.â Donghyuck smiles, tilting his head.Â
You pause, blinking as your hand falls limply to your side. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âDonât you know?âÂ
When you canât think of a response, he shrugs. âOr maybe you donât.âÂ
You watch him walk past you to get the room key from the nightstand, slipping it into his wallet, before grabbing your purse from the bed and handing it to you. âCome on, weâll be late for dinner.âÂ
And just like that, dinner is the last thing on your mind.Â
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âItâs so surreal seeing you two in such fancy clothes. You guys look amazing!â Dr. Min gushes, as the three of you take your seats inside a fancy restaurant whose name you canât even pronounce. A salad from here probably costs a monthâs worth of rent. Luckily, youâre not paying.Â
âYou look stunning tonight as well, Dr. Min,â Donghyuck instantly responds, turning up his ass-kissing to 100.Â
You just sip on your glass of water, trying to distract yourself with a task by picking up and setting down your glass continuously. Eventually, a waiter comes by and dramatically refills your glass without you even asking. You murmur a quick thank you before going right back to your routine.Â
âOh, here they are!â Dr. Min stands up and waves to someone behind you, and you quickly set your water back down. You smooth out the bunched up dress in your lap and tuck your hair behind your ears. As Dr. Min ushers her colleagues over to your table, you feel Donghyuckâs warm hand gently on your knee, stilling your leg that you didnât even know you were furiously bouncing.Â
He doesnât say a word, only looking at you for a second before pulling away, standing up and plastering on a big grin to greet Dr. Minâs colleagues. Your leg burns like his fingerprints individually branded you.Â
Mind whirring, you shakily stand up and hope that your face is doing something similar to a smile.Â
âDonghyuck, Y/N, these are my colleagues. This is Dr. Collins and Dr. Gregory,â Dr. Min introduces, gesturing to two middle-aged men in suits who are both wearing glasses. Frankly, they look identical to you, but such is the case with the elites in academia.Â
You all say your greetings before sitting down, and thankfully, Dr. Min orders the food for you, rattling off fancy French dishes that you couldnât even begin to spell. She also orders a few bottles of super expensive wine, though you and Donghyuck choose to abstain. Despite your initial nerves, the dinner isnât as bad as you thought itâd be. The conversation flows naturally between everyone, and you even get a few laughs from Dr. Collins and Dr. Gregory, which gives you a slight confidence boost. It isnât until dinner is starting to wind down, and the professors are flushed and slightly slurring that Dr. Gregory turns towards you, saying, âYou know, Y/N, youâre such a pretty girl. If only you would smile a bit more. Youâd be a real stunner if you smiled more.âÂ
The pungent scent of wine on his breath wafts over to you as he continues, âDonât be so uptight, you know?âÂ
Your entire body freezes, and you suddenly feel sick to your stomach. This isnât exactly your first time dealing with creepy old men, but youâve never had to do so with creepy old men that could control your future in your career. Especially not with your mentorâs colleaguesâthe mentor that you revere and want so desperately to impress.
You feel your face burn with shame and humiliation, as you try to think of something to say that will diffuse the situation but also not offend Dr. Gregory. Dr. Min and Dr. Collins look uncomfortable as well, but they donât seem like they know what to do either.Â
âOh, lighten up! It was just a joke,â Dr. Gregory finally says after noticing the tense atmosphere, âYou young people never have a sense of humor.âÂ
âPray tell, what was the joke?â Donghyuck asks, his words dripping with a venomous sweetness. Heâs gripping the cloth napkin in his lap with such strength that you think he might rip it. Heâs seething with so much rage that you can feel it radiate from his body like heat waves. Youâre worried heâs about to jump across the table and attack Dr. Gregory, so you slowly reach under the table and place your hand on top of his.Â
Itâs not worth it, you want to tell him.Â
Without looking at you, Donghyuck releases the napkin and flips your hand with your palm facing upwards before lacing his fingers through yours, keeping your entwined fingers tucked into his lap. He holds your hand tightly but not enough to hurt. Just enough that you know heâs not going to let this slide.Â
âExplain the joke,â Donghyuck continues to press, âWhatâs so fucking funny?âÂ
Dr. Gregory just stares at him in a drunken daze, and Dr. Min hesitantly glances between the two, finally stammering, âN-Now, that language isnât appropriate, Donghyuck. However, Dr. Gregory needs to apologize to Y/N, too. Gosh, Dr. Gregory, you always get too drunk for your own good.âÂ
âYou know, Dr. Gregory,â Donghyuck starts, completely ignoring her, âyouâd be a real stunner if you went to an AA meeting instead of lurking around at research symposiums and sexually harassing female students.â
âHow dare you accuse me ofââ Dr. Gregory begins sputtering, face turning even redder.Â
âOh, lighten up! It was just a joke. What, you old perverts donât have a sense of humor?â Donghyuck raises his voice, so that the surrounding tables can hear him. He stands to his feet, taking you with him, before using his free hand to slam a glass of water in front of Dr. Gregory. He uses so much force that the glass clatters loudly against the wooden table, and water splashes all over the table and Dr. Gregoryâs lap.Â
âSober up, you piece of shit. Talk to her like that again, and Iâll make sure youâre drinking your fancy wine through a tube in your neck.âÂ
Donghyuck drags your chair out of the way, making sure to scrape the metal against the floor so that it makes a screeching noise, and leads you away from the table and out of the restaurant. Against your better judgment, you look back at the table. The three professors just sit there, shoulders slumped, looking smaller and smaller as you walk away. In the past, they stood tall like the highest peak of a mountain that you could never reach. Now, you canât help but think that they look soâŚpathetic.Â
Donghyuck doesnât speak to you as you make your way back to the hotel; he just holds your hand like youâll slip away if he doesnât. After a few minutes, he takes your intertwined fingers and puts them in his pants pocket. Heâs walking so fast that you start to stumble over the uneven pavement in your heels.Â
âWait, DonghyuckââÂ
You nearly trip, but he quickly turns around and catches you. His hands are on your waist, warm and firm, as he carefully steadies you.Â
âYou shouldnât have done that,â you say quietly.
Donghyuck takes in a deep breath, his hands linger around your waist as if he was the one being steadied. When he speaks, he unconsciously pulls you in a bit closer. âYeah, I shouldâve done a lot worse.âÂ
âCome on, youâre a grad student whoâs cooped up at home all day writing research papers. Youâre not exactly Mike Tyson,â you try to tease. Youâve never seen him this angry before.Â
âI could definitely kick his teeth in.â He looks a little too determined for your liking.Â
âAnd then get an assault charge?â You sigh. âIâm not paying your bail.âÂ
He seems to soften up a bit as he studies your face. His hands flinch at your sides, seemingly realizing that heâs cradling you against him, before he takes a step back. His palms drag against your dress as he lets go of your waist.Â
âAre you okay?â Donghyuck doesnât seem to know what to do with his hands, as he lifts them back up before putting them back down.Â
âOf course.â You give him a halfhearted smile. âNot exactly my first rodeo with this kind of stuff.â
You can see a muscle in his jaw spasm.Â
âIt was nice seeing you cuss him out though. Took the words right out of my mouth. But, you know, I would probably get called a bitch or something if I said it.â You shrug.Â
âIâm sorry.âÂ
âFor what? Misogyny?â You raise an eyebrow. âAre you on your performative male shit again?âÂ
âWell, anyone who knows me knows that I am a staunch feminist. An ally, if you will.â Donghyuck raises a fist in the air, and you roll your eyes, though you canât help the chuckle that escapes you. When you meet his gaze again, he hesitantly chews on his lip for a moment before continuing, âButâŚIâm also sorry that you had to listen to him speak to you like that. I wish there was something I could do that was more productive than kicking his teeth in.â
âHm,â you hum, tapping your chin, âI suppose I could forgive you if you ordered room service. Iâm starving. All that bougie French finger food Dr. Min ordered basically evaporated into thin air the moment I put it in my mouth.âÂ
You give him a mischievous grin, and the tension visibly leaves his body.Â
âDeal.â
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Thatâs how the two of you end up lounging on the bed together, a pepperoni pizza and chicken and waffles feast sprawled out in front of you. One of the television channels is playing a rerun of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, so you and Donghyuck keep your eyes glued to the screen like children with their iPads. Occasionally, one of you will comment on how much both of you hate Gale and kick your feet when Peeta says his iconic âif it werenât for the babyâ line.Â
Once the movie is over and the food is completely cleared out, you both flop onto your backs, feeling like stuffed turkeys with how much you ate. The two of you lay there in content silence for a second before you let out a sigh.Â
It was a lot easier to not think about anything when you had all these distractions, but now that the night is winding down, reality is setting in quickly.
âTomorrow is going to be so awkward,â you groan, covering your face with your hands. âDr. Min is probably pissed.âÂ
Donghyuck furrows his eyebrows. âSurely, you donât mean she would be pissed at us. Not when it was her creepy ass friendâs fault.âÂ
âWell, we certainly didnât act very professional either.âÂ
âY/N. Look at me, please.â You feel his hands gently swat yours away from your face.Â
Begrudgingly, you turn your head towards him. His face is a lot closer than youâre expecting, and your eyes wander as you start to count all of the moles on his smooth skin. Your gaze briefly flickers to his heart-shaped lips before hurriedly traveling back up to his eyes.Â
âYou are not the one who should be worried about tomorrow,â he states firmly, âDr. Min is the one in a position of authority. Itâs her job to protect you.âÂ
âI hope thatâs the case,â you mutter.Â
âIt is. She will.â He sounds so sure.Â
âWell, it doesnât matterââÂ
âIt does.âÂ
ââI just need to get through this presentation, and Iâll never have to see any of these people ever again.â Truthfully, you probably will since academia circles run small. Donghyuck knows that too.Â
âDo youââ He hesitates, scanning your face carefully. âAre you going to file a report against Dr. Gregory?âÂ
You laugh humorlessly. âWould anyone believe me?âÂ
âYou have three witnesses.â
âThat I would be asking to jeopardize their own careers for me,â you point out, âI know weâve had quite a spirited rivalry, but even I wouldnât try to sabotage you like this.âÂ
His expression is twisted into something you canât quite discern. âWhatââÂ
âIâm not going to file a report,â you state matter-of-factly, âItâs not worth it.âÂ
Donghyuck goes quiet, clearly trying to collect himself, before whispering hoarsely, âItâs your decision.âÂ
He stares at you for a very long time when you donât respond. Without even realizing it, the two of you had turned your bodies toward one another on the bed. Your legs are curled upwards, and if you wanted to, you could shift just slightly and bump his thighs. If you wanted to, you could reach out and brush the stray curl from his eyes.Â
âY/N.â He murmurs your name so softly that you almost donât hear him. In fact, the syllables blend together almost as if he were sleeptalking.Â
âYeah?â You hold your breath.Â
âWhatever happens tomorrow, whatever you decide to do, just know that Iâm on your side. Always.âÂ
You donât remember what you said back; you donât even remember what he looked like when he said it, no matter how desperately you try. You almost wonder if it was just a dream.Â
All you know is that you wake up wrapped in Lee Donghyuckâs arms the next morning. His bicep is under your neck while his hand is cradling the back of your head. His other arm is slung over your waist, fingers splayed across the small of your back. The hem of your evening gown has ridden up to your thighs, and your bare legs are tangled with his. Your cheek is tucked snugly into the crook of his neck, and every time he exhales, you feel his lips brush the crown of your head. He smells like faded cologne and warm skin.
Sunlight streams into your eyelids when you blearily blink, but youâre so distracted by the peaceful expression on Donghyuckâs face that you barely notice. Without even thinking, you brush the stray curl from his eyes. He slightly stirs at the movement before pulling you in closer, stilling once again after another second.Â
Against your better judgment, you lean forward, burrowing your face into his neck and feeling his skin against yours. As you listen to the sound of his breathing, it doesnât take you long to fall back asleep.Â
Act IV) But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.Â
When you wake up, youâre under the covers. Donghyuck is gone.Â
Except when you turn to the right, heâs curled up in a cramped fetal position on the pull-out couch with no blanket. His back is facing you, but you can see his shoulders steadily rise up and down.
Youâre more impressed by how deeply you were sleeping to not notice him tuck you under the covers and then set up the couch.Â
Shit, what if you drooled on him and thatâs why he moved?Â
Your hand frantically flies to the corner of your mouth, but itâs dry. Almost cracked. Then you realize that you slept in your makeup, and your skin is probably gasping for any sort of hydration.Â
Swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you tip-toe your way to the bathroom. Carefully shutting the door behind you, you quickly begin your morning routine of brushing your teeth, washing your face, and taking the hottest shower you can handle. You stand still, letting the scorching water run down your body, as you recall the events from the night before. In the end, not even the scalding temperature can burn away the feeling of being enveloped in Donghyuckâs arms.Â
Furiously scrubbing your face, you wish you had just gotten up and moved to the pull-out couch when you woke up the first time. Instead of cuddling Donghyuck like a psycho. He probably felt you clinging to him like a koala and promptly escaped, even though you were the one who lost rock-paper-scissors.Â
Better yet, you wish you had never come here in the first place. Maybe then your professional andâŚpersonal lives wouldnât be in complete shambles.Â
Eventually, the water starts to run cold, and you have no choice but to step out into the steam-filled bathroom. Your phone chimes on the corner of the sink, and you reach over to check itâÂ
Your heart is nearly regurgitated out of your mouth.Â
Itâs a text from Dr. Min inviting you to breakfast. Just you and her.Â
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âThank you for agreeing to meet with me privately.â Dr. Min is nervously wringing her hands as you awkwardly push around the omelette in front of you.Â
Honestly, you had contemplated waking Donghyuck up and dragging him down with you, but then you came to your senses. Youâre not sure when the switch happened that heâs the first person you turn to for help, and it freaks you out exponentially. Especially when just 48 hours ago, you wouldâve rather hacked off your arm than ask him for anything.Â
Besides, this is nothing you canât handle. Youâre pretty sure.
âNo problem.â You try your best to look cool and composed.Â
âI wanted to apologize for Dr. Gregoryâs behavior last night. He got way too drunk, and it was completely unacceptable. He also wants to extend his sincerest apologies. I will make sure this never happens again.â
Youâre not sure what to say in response. Sheâs waiting for you expectantly, almost as if she wants you to exonerate her from her guilt. Normally, you would rush to tell her that everything is okay and itâs all in the past now. But the expression on her face reminds you too much of last night, of how small she seemed.Â
âOkay.â You nod stiffly. âI appreciate you letting me know.âÂ
Thereâs an awkward, drawn out pause between the two of you before Dr. Min clears her throat. âOkay. Good.âÂ
You start getting up to leave, but you hear a shrill, âWait!âÂ
In all your years of knowing her, youâve never seen Dr. Min look this nervous before. She can barely even maintain eye contact with you as she fidgets with her sleeve. âI, um, need to talk to you about something else. About the symposium.âÂ
So much has happened that youâve barely even thought about the symposium. It almost relieves you to hear about something so normal, considering howâŚnot normal everything has been.Â
That is, until she says her next words:
âThereâs been a bit of a mix-up. Initially, they were planning on having a keynote speaker. However, the speaker ended up canceling, so the schedule was made without his inclusion. The problem now is that the speaker informed us last-minute that heâll be able to make it after all. So, Iâve been asked by the organizers to cut one of my students from the program, since I was the only one who brought two.âÂ
You shakily inhale when it dawns on you that this is the real reason she called you down here. That it was always going to be you. The truth of being inferior feels like someone just knocked the wind out of you. Youâre struggling to breathe properly, but you will yourself to maintain your composure; youâll be damned if you have a panic attack in front of Dr. Min.Â
But all that goes through your head is not good enough, not good enough, not good enough.
âItâs not because your paper isnât up to par,â she quickly insists, âin fact, your paper was brilliantââÂ
She couldnât have picked a shittier adjective. That word is another gut punch.Â
ââitâs just that Donghyuck is more of what theyâre looking for. What theyâre expecting.âÂ
That makes you pause. âWhat?â
âThe judges have theirâŚbiases. Theyâre much more inclined to respond to him,â Dr. Min responds vaguely, almost as if sheâs too afraid to say what she really means aloud.Â
âBecause Donghyuck is a man?âÂ
âTrust me, as a woman, I understand. Itâs ridiculous that academia is still such a deeply patriarchal system. Iâm just trying to play by their rules. If Donghyuck gets the Best Research Paper award, itâll look really good for the university,â she explains as if itâll all make sense to you now.Â
âSo, you acknowledge how academia has fostered an incredibly sexist environment, yet you want to continue upholding that culture?â you ask incredulously, âOr is it because youâve, against all odds, already succeeded in this environment so you donât want to upset the status quo? Youâre willing to close the door behind you if it means that you can retain your position?âÂ
âI have always championed for more female scholars in our field, Y/N. This is different. Itâs beyond that,â she answers defensively.Â
âBecause your reputation is on the line?âÂ
Dr. Min purses her lips. âI am doing what is best for our school. I hope youâll understand that some day. Iâm sure Donghyuck will as well.âÂ
âWeâll see about that.â You clench your jaw.Â
âDonât further complicate things,â she warns, clearly perceiving your words as a threat, âI really am sorry that this happened. I know this would have been a wonderful addition to your CV and your application to the PhD program. I promise I will write you that letter of recommendation if things go smoothly today.âÂ
You actually laugh at her, a hysterical shriek bubbling in your throat. âYou were my hero, you know.âÂ
Without waiting for her response, you get up from your seat and walk away, never once turning around to look back at her. Youâre not sure how you gathered up the strength to return to your room without collapsing once, but you swear youâre going to faint when Donghyuck peeks his head out of the bathroom when he hears you come in. He has a running blowdryer in one hand and a round brush in the other. He looks so happy to see you that you feel nauseous.Â
âHey! I was wondering where you went. For a moment, I thought my snoring scared you offâwhatâs wrong?â In an instant, heâs set everything down and is making his way over to you.Â
You sidestep him before dragging your numb body to the edge of the bed, sitting down with your back turned against him. Squeezing your burning eyes shut, you try to remember the breathing exercises you had been watching the day before.Â
âAre you sick?â You hear Donghyuckâs soothing voice in front of you, but you donât dare look at him. âDo you need anything?âÂ
You shake your head, feeling a sob rack your body.Â
âPlease tell me whatâs wrong. What can I do? Tell me what to do, Y/N.â He sounds so scared that you know you wonât be able to tell him the truth. Youâre not cruel enough to make him throw away this opportunity for you.
âNothing,â you finally manage to get out. When you open your eyes, heâs kneeling in front of you, desperately scanning your face. What a sight heâs probably getting with all the tears and snot. âIâm not presenting today. There was a scheduling issue, and they had to cut someone from the program.âÂ
âWhat? Why would they cut someone when itâs their own fault? And why you?âÂ
You shrug halfheartedly. âDr. Min didnât tell me. Maybe my paper was just not as good as yours.âÂ
âNo,â he responds immediately, âthatâs impossible. There had to have been another reason. If anything, Dr. Min should have cut me. I was the one who acted out of line.â
You smile bitterly. âWhen you do it, youâre a badass. When I do it, Iâm a bitch.âÂ
It was a sentiment you had echoed last night, but you had no idea just how ironic those words would turn out.Â
âThen take my place.â Donghyuck says it like itâs the simplest solution in the world.Â
âWhat, no,â you say in bewilderment, âDr. Min has made it clear that she wants you to present. Besides, your name is on the program.âÂ
âFine. I wonât present either.â He crosses his arms and looks away like a child throwing a tantrum.
âAre you insane? Whatâs the point of all this if neither of us presents?â you demand.Â
âIâm not going to do it if youâre not.âÂ
âDonât you want the recommendation letter from Dr. Min?â
He stares at you in disbelief. âYou think I care about that?âÂ
âIn case you forgot, youâre the one who suggested the competitionââÂ
âY/N, that was beforeââ he pauses, wetting his lips, âbefore this.âÂ
Neither of you seem to know what this is.Â
âIt hasnât been a competition to me for a while now. The letter, the award, this whole symposium, none of that matters to me. I just care about you.â Donghyuckâs voice breaks slightly. âThe only thing I want is you.â
âBut you hate me. WeâreâŚsworn enemies.â Your voice is barely a whisper.Â
That gets a chuckle out of him. âMaybe, initially. Maybe I didnât like how much smarter you were than me. Maybe I didnât enjoy the way you would always rip me a new one during class discussions. Butâno matter how much I fought it, I started looking for you in every room I stepped into and only cared about what you had to say. I told myself a million different reasons for why I was acting the way I was. I thought whatever was forming was loathing, that you were just someone that I needed to prove I was better than. I convinced myself that I needed to tease and annoy you in any possible way because it was a tactic to gain the upperhand. When in reality, I was just doing whatever I could to get your attention. I suggested the competition because I would finally stop thinking about you if we settled our rivalry once and for all. But, Y/Nââ
Donghyuck gently reaches up and cups your cheek with his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone. You subconsciously lean into his touch, eyes fluttering.Â
âY/N, the award has always been yours. Youâve won from the very start, and I never stood a chance. Iâm not doing this without you.âÂ
The boy youâve spent your entire college career trying to outshine looks at you like youâre his North Star.Â
Your fingers slide up his forearm before gently closing around his wrist, cradling his hand against your face. Tilting your head downwards so that youâre level with his kneeling position, you place your forehead against his. Donghyuck lets out a soft gasp like you just sent an electric shock through his body.Â
âYou have to do it. Something good has to come out of this shitshow,â you insist firmly.
He tries to pull away to protest. âNoââÂ
âYou said youâd be on my side.â
He looks at you like youâve physically hurt him. Â
âOkay.â He finally relents, slumping his shoulders. âOkay, Iâll do it.âÂ
You surge forward, wrapping your arms around him. Donghyuck catches you like itâs the most natural thing in the world, burying his face in your neck and holding you like he exists only to do so. He holds you so lovingly that you almost break and tell him the truth.Â
But you donât.Â
Instead, you let him go and tell him to hurry up and get ready. You donât miss the way his gaze lingers on you even as he walks away.Â
When the two of you finally make your way down to the conference room where the symposium is being held, Dr. Min is already waiting. You slightly flinch when you see her, and to your dismay, Donghyuck seems to notice. He gives you a quizzical glance before looking at Dr. Min, gauging her facial expression. Dr. Min, on the other hand, pretends like nothing happened, and it scares you how good she is at it.Â
âThere you guys are! Come on, Donghyuck is up first.â She ushers you both behind a makeshift stage that theyâve set up. âOkay, make sure to take a few deep breaths. Donât bury your nose in your notes. Make sure to make eye contact with the audience.âÂ
Donghyuck isnât paying attention to her whatsoever. Instead, heâs peering around the stage, clearly up to something. You donât even have time to ask him what heâs planning before the announcer calls his name.Â
Suddenly, Donghyuck doubles over, clutching his stomach in pain. âOwww!âÂ
He drags the last syllable, getting progressively louder the longer he holds the word. Both you and Dr. Min slightly jump at the volume of his voice.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â she asks frantically.Â
âOh, my stomach is killing me,â he moans dramatically, âI think it might be the shitty French food we ate last night. Oh, Iâm going to throw up.âÂ
He makes dry heaving noises, and Dr. Min takes a step back. âUm, okay. Letâs get you to a bathroom.âÂ
âWhat about the presentation?â he asks in between vomiting sounds.Â
âYou canât present if youâre sick. WeâllââÂ
âOh, I have a wonderful idea.â He claps his hands together. âHow about Y/N presents in my place?âÂ
You shouldâve known Donghyuck would have something up his sleeve.Â
âAnd look! A copy of Y/Nâs paper magically showed up, so sheâs all set! Wow, Shakespeare must be in the building with us on this beautiful afternoon.â He whips out the folded pieces of paper in his back pocket that you had thought was his paper. When he notices your death glare, he places the back of his hand on his forehead. âOh, I feel so sickâŚâÂ
âLee Donghyuck, Iâm going to killââÂ
âWe donât have time for this,â Dr. Min snaps, snatching the paper from Donghyuck and shoving it into your arms. âI donât know how you two planned this, but Iâll deal with you afterwards. Just go and present.âÂ
âBut Iââ
Dr. Min grabs your shoulders and essentially manhandles you onto the stage. You stumble out in front of a giant crowd full of confused scholars who definitely just heard all the ruckus Donghyuck made. Awkwardly shuffling over to the podium, you clear your throat into the mic by accident, causing a piercing feedback noise.Â
âOh, uh, sorry about that. Iâm not Lee Donghyuck. He hadâŚother issues to deal with. My name is Y/N, and Iâm here to present onââ
You pause for a moment when you look down at your paper. Written in red ink are loopy, sprawling letters at the top of the page that read:Â
You are the badass.Â
Looking back up at the expectant crowd, you take the pages of your paper and rip them in half, the sounds of paper tearing echoing throughout the room.
âI originally planned on presenting about female empowerment in the 1999 film 10 Things I Hate About You compared to the source material, The Taming of the Shrew. However, I cannot, in good faith, speak on this topic without first recounting my own experiences this past weekend. Isnât it a Shakespearean twist that all we do is sit around and discuss political and sociological issues being acknowledged in works of literature yet we canât recognize those same problems in our own field? I hope my words force us to acknowledge our own internalized biases.âÂ
.
.
.
In the end, you donât receive the Best Research Paper award.Â
In fact, security escorts you out of the conference room shortly after you finish speaking.Â
Youâre not sure what the repercussions of what you just did are going to be, but you canât find it in you to care. When youâre deposited in the hotel lobby, Donghyuck is already waiting for you.Â
âHowâs your stomach?â you ask sarcastically.Â
He just shakes his head and chuckles incredulously. âYou always find a way to one-up me.âÂ
âSo, youâre admitting defeat?â You close the distance between the two of you, stepping so close that your chests nearly touch.Â
Donghyuck swallows, Adamâs apple bobbing. âY/N, Iââ
You throw your arms around his neck and bring him down to press your lips against his. He snakes an arm around your waist and lifts you up, pulling you tightly against him. He kisses you like heâs on his dying breath, and he holds you like youâre everything he ever dreamed of. For the first time in your life, you know you are.Â
âComplete and utter defeat,â he whispers against your lips.Â
Academic validation and beating Lee Donghyuck are your only motivations in life. You end up achieving only one of the two.
.
.
.
It isnât until when you get back from the symposium the next week that you discover multiple sexual harassment claims were filed against Dr. Gregory after your speech and he was fired by the university. Additionally, Dr. Min was put on administrative leave for allegations of discrimination and abuse of power. She apparently is also being investigated separately by the organizers of the symposium for attempted bribery of the judges by not disclosing the fact that she habitually took them to dinner (who were actually Dr. Collins and Dr. Gregory).Â
âNow, thatâs some Shakespearean karma.â Donghyuck winks when he shows you the news article.Â
âI guess weâre not getting those recommendation letters.â You sigh.Â
He throws his head back and laughs.Â
Lacing your fingers through his, you lean your head against his shoulder as the two of you walk down the sidewalkâthe sounds of the rain growing heavier against your shared umbrella and cars speeding by serving as your only background noise.
summary: whatever was in the air, it left mark desperate, and you were the only one close enough to help
warnings: sex pollen, needy!mark, fingering, creampie, breeding, mark finishes like four times or something crazy like that, by far the worst paced fic you've probably ever read
a.n: welcome to the first fic of kinktober. yes, this is supposed to read as fast and desperate because that's exactly what mark is. leave a like or a comment if you enjoy <3
You and Mark had been cramming in the back corner of the library for hours. His laptop was open, highlighter caps littered the table, and your notes were a mess. College sucked.
âAnother chapter?â he asked, already yawning.
âSure,â you muttered, dragging your pen across the page.
It shouldâve been normal â just another late-night study grind â except for the weird little potted plant his biology professor had shoved into his hands earlier. âKeep an eye on this until the labâs open tomorrow.â
Neither of you noticed when the plant bloomed. The faint sweet scent that filled the air seemed harmless enough at first.But then Mark shifted in his chair, tugging at the collar of his hoodie. His cheeks flushed bright pink.
âYou hot?â you asked, frowning.
He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. âKinda. I dunno, I justâfuck, I feel weird.â
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
It didnât take long before weird turned into desperate.
Mark couldnât sit still anymore. His leg bounced hard under the table, his jaw tight, fingers digging into his thigh. His hoodie was already shoved off, and sweat clung to the back of his neck, dampening the collar of his t-shirt. A vein stood out in his temple, pulsing fast.
âMark?â you whispered, worried. âAre you okay?â
He looked up, and his eyes were blown wide, pupils dark, chest rising and falling too fast. His lips parted like he was about to answer, but nothing came out.
âI canâtââ He shoved his chair back with a screech, running a shaky hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. âFuck, I canât think. I justââ His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there like heâd never seen them before, hunger sparking in his expression. âItâs not my fault.â
âMarkââ
He didnât let you finish. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up, pulling you down the rows of bookcases with quick, frantic steps. You tried to protest, but he was too strong, too desperate. His body practically radiated heat, palm slick against yours.
âMark, where are weââ
He slammed into the bathroom, locking the door behind you with a shaky hand. The second the lock clicked, he shoved you against the wall, his mouth crashing onto yours. The kiss was hot, sloppy, teeth clashing, his tongue forcing past your lips like he was starving. His breath was harsh, almost animal.
You gasped into his mouth, hands pushing at his chest, but he just groaned, grinding against you. His cock was hard, pressing thick and urgent against your thigh, the weight of it unmistakable.
âFuck,â he muttered against your lips, eyes wild and glassy. âI donât know whatâs wrong with me. I need you so bad, I canât think...â
His hands tugged at your clothes, fumbling with your jeans, yanking them down just enough to shove his hand between your thighs. His fingers pressed against your underwear, rubbing hard over your clit, his knuckles rough.
âLook at you,â he gasped, forehead pressed to yours, his hand working faster, thumb circling harder until he could feel the wetness dampen your panties. âAlready wetâfuck, maybe you need this too.â
Your knees buckled, a moan tearing from your throat, and if he wasn't pressing you against the door, you would have fallen to the floor. His grin was shaky, desperate, more unhinged than cocky.
âYeah, thatâs it. Let me hear you.â
He yanked your underwear aside, plunging two fingers into you without warning. You choked on a cry, your hands grabbing at his shoulders as his pace turned frantic, fingers fucking into you fast and messy, curling just right to make your eyes roll back.
âMarkââ you gasped, back arching, walls fluttering around his fingers.
âI canât stop,â he groaned, rutting against your hip, cock straining painfully against his sweats. âIâm gonna lose my mind if Iâm not inside you.â
He pulled his fingers out and spun you around, bending you over the sink. The mirror reflected your wide eyes, your lips parted as you watched him shove his sweats down, cock springing free, flushed and leaking as he lined himself up behind you.
âPlease,â he begged, his voice breaking, guttural. âPlease, Iâll die if I donât...just let me.â
And then he pushed in.
The stretch was brutal, your walls clenching tight around his cock as he bottomed out with a strangled moan. His hands gripped your hips hard, holding you in place as he started thrusting, fast and sloppy, the sound of wet skin echoing in the bathroom.
âShitâfuck...y-youâre so tight,â he groaned, head dropping onto your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin. His cock drove deep, hitting the perfect spot over and over until your vision blurred. âI canât... I canât stop.â
Every thrust rocked you against the sink, your palms flat on the counter, eyes fixed on his reflection behind you. His face was flushed scarlet, sweat dripping down his temple, jaw clenched like he was in pain.
âSay you want it too,â he gasped, hips pounding into you. âPleaseâsay it.â
Your moan broke into a cry, legs trembling. âIâI want itââ
Mark let out a choked sound, fucking you harder, his cock dragging deep inside you. The heat, the desperation, the way his body pressed heavy against yoursâit was too much. You came hard, sobbing into the mirror, your cunt squeezing him tight.
He groaned loud, thrusts turning messy, desperate. âFuckâIâm gonna cumâshit, I canâtââ
Markâs first orgasm hit so hard he almost collapsed over you. His cock twitched inside, pumping hot cum deep while he groaned against your shoulder, sweat dripping down his face, his hips jerking helplessly.
Normally, heâd have pulled out, slumped against the wall, embarrassed as hell. His cheeks wouldâve gone scarlet, his stammered apologies tripping over each other, and you wouldâve had time to catch your breath.
But not this time.
He was still hard. Rock hard.
Mark froze for a second, his chest heaving against your back, breath ragged and broken. His cock twitched inside you, too heavy, too stiff, like it hadnât just spent itself. He swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his temple, the sound of it hitting the porcelain sink sharp in the silence.
âWhat the fuckâŚâ His voice cracked, half a whisper, half a groan. He lifted his head, looking down at where your bodies were still joinedâyour swollen, slick cunt stretched around him, his cum already dripping out to coat the base of his cock. The sight made his stomach clench, made his hips twitch forward before he could stop himself.
Then his gaze flicked up, catching the reflection in the mirror. The two of youâwrecked, panting, pressed together, skin flushed and glistening. Your hair stuck damply to your cheek, your lips parted, eyes hazy with overstimulation. He looked unrecognizable too; jaw tight, eyes blown wide, chest rising and falling like heâd run a marathon.
His eyes went wild.
His hips started moving again before he even finished the thought.
The slow grind turned into a thrust, then another, until he was driving back into you, groaning like the need was tearing him apart from the inside. Cum leaked down your thighs, sticky and hot, and he groaned at the way his cock dragged it back inside, making everything messier, wetter, louder.
âIâm still hard,â he muttered, almost disbelieving, his words breaking on each thrust. His hands clamped on your hips, bruising, anchoring himself. âI neverâgod, itâs like I canâtââ His words cut off in a strangled moan, his head dropping against your shoulder. âI need to cum again. I have to.â
You whimpered, the force of it making your body jolt against the sink. Each thrust drove you forward, your palms slipping against the counter with how slick your skin had become. His chest pressed heavy to your back, suffocating in the best way, cock pistoning into you like he had zero control.
âMarkââ you gasped, voice catching, your thighs trembling. His name became a mantra, echoing throughout the empty bathroom.
âYou too,â he rasped, his tone cracking. His hips snapped faster, dragging out broken sounds from your throat. âPlease cum with me again. I canâtâfuck, I canât hold it.â
Your orgasm tore through you, ripping a sob from your lips as your cunt squeezed him mercilessly. The mirror blurred in front of you, stars sparking behind your eyes, your body shaking as you collapsed against the counter.
Markâs own release followed instantly. His cock jerked deep inside you, spilling another hot flood, his hips grinding desperately, as if he could force every drop deeper. His groan was guttural, broken, echoing off the bathroom tiles like heâd been split open. His whole body trembled, muscles twitching as he collapsed forward.
For a moment, he went still; panting, lips pressed to your shoulder, his chest slick with sweat against your back. His eyes squeezed shut, his knuckles white where they clutched your hips.
Then it hit him.
He was still fucking hard.
Mark let out a shaky laugh, half-delirious, almost hysterical. âNo way. No fucking wayâŚYouâve gotta be kidding me.â He pulled your body up, turning you around and hoisting you onto the sink. âOne more?â
His mouth crashed onto yours, sloppy and feverish, his cock already pushing back inside your sore pussy. He moaned into your mouth as he bottomed out, grinding hard, sweat dripping down his temples, the counter rattling beneath you.
âGod, youâre taking me so good,â he panted, thrusting deep. âI donât even care if this kills meâIâll die fucking you.â
Your nails clawed down his back as he fucked you harder, hips snapping between your thighs. Your cunt fluttered around him, overstimulated, slick dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.
He buried his face in your neck, groaning, âIâm gonna cum againâfuck, Iâm gonnaââ
His third orgasm hit like a wave, hot cum spilling out of you and over the counter, his whole body shaking as he ground deep inside, cock jerking until you were sure he had nothing left to give.
But even as he panted, sweat-soaked and trembling, he stayed buried in you. His cock was still hard, twitching, ready.
Mark pulled back, dazed, eyes glazed over. âWhat the hell is happening to meâŚâ He looked down at you, completely wrecked under him, your thighs shaking, your lips swollen. His breath hitched.
He shouldâve been done. He shouldâve slumped to the ground, out cold.
Instead, he lifted his head, dazed, panting. His cock was still hard.
âHoly shit,â he muttered, looking between your bodies. âI justâthree times? Iâve neverââ His words cut off in a ragged groan as his hips twitched forward again, grinding into you.
You whimpered, sore and overstimulated, but he caught your face in his hands, eyes blown wide and frantic.
âI canât stop,â he whispered, almost panicked.
Before you could answer, he pulled out, spun you around, and bent you over the sink again. His cum dripped down your thighs as he shoved his cock back inside with one brutal thrust. Both of you cried outâhim in disbelief, you in overwhelmed pleasure.
âFucking hell,â he groaned, hips snapping fast, desperate. âItâs like my body wonât stop until I ruin you.â
Every thrust was harder than the last, your reflection in the mirror showing your wrecked expression, hair sticking to your damp forehead. Markâs hands dug into your hips, his nails leaving crescents on your skin.
Your cunt clamped down hard, another orgasm ripping through you without warning. You sobbed into the mirror, shaking as your legs gave out.
Mark lost it. His cock jerked inside you, another orgasm tearing out of him with a guttural groan, hot cum spilling into you for the nth time. He pressed his chest to your back, grinding deep, shuddering as he filled you.
But he was still hard.
Markâs laugh was broken, disbelieving. âNo way. No fucking way.â He pulled you up against his chest, lips dragging over your shoulder, your neck. âIâm gonna break you.â
He dragged you off the counter and onto the floor tiles, laying you on your back before crawling over you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. His body hovered above yours, heavy and trembling, cock still leaking and hard as steel.
âLook at me,â he begged, eyes glassy. âPlease, donât look away. I donât know how many times I can do this, but I need every single one inside you.â
He pushed back in, slower this time, groaning as he bottomed out again. His thrusts started sloppy, overstimulated moans leaving his mouth with every movement. His whole body shuddered with the sensitivity, but he didnât stop. Couldnât.
âFuckâtoo muchâbut it feels so good,â he gasped, forehead pressing to yours. âYouâre gonna kill me, I swear.â
You cried out, nails raking down his back, and he kissed you through the mess of itâdesperate, wet, panting.
When he came the fourth time, it was almost painful, his cock jerking hard as cum spilled deep inside you again, dripping out immediately to pool on the floor beneath you. His whole body trembled, muscles twitching, his voice breaking on a hoarse groan.
He collapsed against you, chest heaving, sweat-slick and trembling. His cock twitched inside you, still hard, refusing to soften.
Mark laughed weakly, almost hysterical, his lips brushing your ear.
ââŚfuck. I think I could go again.â
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
Mark looked like death warmed over.
His hoodie was wrinkled, his hair stuck up in every direction, and there were dark smudges under his eyes from getting absolutely no sleep. Not because he didnât tryâhe did tryâbut every time he shut his eyes, his cock twitched, his body remembered, and he was hard all over again. He lost count of how many times he came after dragging you back to your apartment, how many times he swore that was the last round only for his body to betray him.
Now, the stupid little potted plant sat in his hands, looking perfectly innocent. A neat bloom of white petals, fragrant and harmless.
Mark marched into the biology lab like a man going to his own execution. He set the plant on his professorâs desk a little harder than he meant to, the pot clinking against the wood.
âHere,â Mark croaked, his voice shot, like heâd spent all night screaming. âYour, uh⌠project.â
Professor Han, a lean man with glasses sliding down his nose, looked up from his laptop. He peered at the plant, then at Mark. His brows lifted.
âYou kept this in your dorm?â
Mark shifted uneasily. âLibrary.â He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing everywhere but the professorâs eyes. âWhy?â
Professor Han smirked faintly, like he knew something Mark didnât. âThat species isnât exactly⌠stable. The pollen tends to have a very specific effect on mammals.â
Mark froze. âEffect?â
Professor Han leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. âLetâs just say it enhances reproductive drive. Unethical to test on humans, of course.â His gaze slid over Mark, taking in the disheveled hair, the hoodie, the way Mark couldnât stand still. âBut you look like you mightâve had firsthand exposure.â
Heat flooded Markâs face. âIâwhatâno!â His laugh came out too loud, too forced. âI mean, I was justâstudying, andââ
Professor Han cut him off smoothly. âBe thankful it burns itself out after a day.â His eyes glinted behind the lenses. âOtherwise, youâd be in real trouble.â
Markâs mouth opened, then shut again. He grabbed his backpack, muttered something that couldâve been âthanks,â and bolted out of the lab as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint.
Behind him, the professor chuckled under his breath, jotting something in his notebook.
âAlways the library,â he murmured. âThose poor girls never see it coming.â
SYNOPSIS: captain of the football team, lee haechan claims he has it all. but he doesn't have you, who's always been so unattainable, yet somehow you still end up dating the student body president and his rival. but he's not one to give up easily because he knows he always gets what he wants, and your boyfriend should definitely feel threatened by him.
PAIRING: athlete!haechan x female reader
GENRE: college au, enemies to ? au, love triangle!au, angst, smut, cheating!au
WORD COUNT: 23.5k
CONTAINS: riize's sungchan (im sorry once AGAIN). psychological negligence, jealousy, one sided rivalry (for the most part). love triangle of sorts, cheating, smut (only between haechan and reader). unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, fingering and oral (female receiving), public sex, big dick!haechan, emotional distance. author's note at the end.
inspired by michael jackson's song threatened.
read more of TASTE OF SUN HERE
ÂŠď¸ KONGJJEN 2025. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.
Lee Haechan claims he has it all.Â
Heâs a twenty-something year old, good looking guy, he has the charms, he has the smile. His eyes hold an immense power that could seduce even a blind person, and his voice could lull and enamour the deaf.Â
Heâs an excellent presence around campus, everybody knows him. And how could they not, when heâs the captain of the football team? The only team in the entire college that made it out of local matches against other local teams, the NCIT Bears Football Team made it big thanks to Lee Haechanâs tenacity and raw talent.
Heâs a leader, he leads. He never follows, not even when itâs about his academic wellbeing and following his professors. Heâs surrounded by people who look up to him, and he thinks there isnât one single person who doesnât know who he is, in this whole campus.Â
Heads turn and mouths start whispering as soon as he passes people on corridors, in the parking lot, even at the coffee shop at the corner just outside of campus. He lives and thrives off the attention, and heâs well aware of it.
His friends think heâs a showoff and sometimes he exaggerates, taking things to next level or making situations escalade when thereâs no need to do so, but he doesnât care. And as much as he loves his friends and cherishes whatever it is they have to say about anything he does, Lee Haechan has a big pride and ego. Heâs proud, nothing goes unnoticed and words will start stinging as soon as they leave his mouth when heâs not happy. Heâs proud, his ego drips with self love and shameless confidence, which leads to him not taking challenges lightly â ever.
Lee Haechan claims he has it all. But he knows thatâs not true â he doesnât have you.
The reality stings every single time he sees you around campus, with friends or that monstrosity you introduce to everyone as your boyfriend â Jung Sungchan. What does that loser have, that he doesnât? What exactly did you see in him that made you think âWow, he might just be the one for me,â? Lee Haechan wonders. Because you could have gone for anyone else in this campus and he wouldnât have cared this much, but youâre literally in this supposed romantic relationship with his rival, out of all people.
What exactly do you see in him? What does Jung Sungchan have, that Haechan doesnât? Is it because heâs the Student Body President? Haechan swears heâll call for an impeachment and heâll steal his spot, if thatâs the case.Â
Do you like smart guys? Haechan never picked you to be one going after big brains instead of good looks â but he swears heâll do anything to get even better grades than he already does, if it means youâll spare him a look.
Because each and every interactions the two of you had so far, they have been disastrous. With you avoiding him, not replying to him or to anything he has to say, it took you a few months before you actually started fighting back. And thatâs precisely the problem. If you just shut up for a bit longer, Haechan would have given up eventually, and heâs well aware of this fact, as well as his closest friends who have literally begged him to stop losing his mind over you, since you were obviously uninterested.Â
But then you snarled back at him, and Haechan felt like an angel just spoke to him words of love and encouragement to go on professing his interest â even if said angel literally told him to âfuck off and dieâ.
It was enough of a sign for Haechan to go on, to make it obvious to everyone around him that he wanted you in all the ways possible. From literally staring at you with heart shaped eyes as you took a sip of your coffee and literally spilled it on your cream coloured hoodie, to doing everything in his power for your paths to cross coincidentally, it was obvious to everyone witnessing that you poked Haechanâs interested.
And seeing your boyfriend walking hand in hand with you hasnât ever discouraged him. Because one thing is certain â Lee Haechanâs ambition knows no limits, and he eventually gets what he wants. And Jung Sungchan should definitely feel threatened.
Thereâs something tugging at his chest every single time he looks at you, and then he feels like heâs been hit with a brick when he sees you holding hands with Slandermanâs cousin.
You hear him before you can see him, because heâs always been obnoxiously loud â during classes, on hallways, in the cafeteria on the fourth floor that you used to pick just so you could avoid seeing him.
Sharing a class with Lee Haechan has always felt like a grieving experience. Heâs terribly nosy, incredibly noisy for a man, but you canât deny the way he never lacks. Heâs always sporting that insufferable grin when he sees he got an excellent mark, heâs always doing that arrogant poking the cheek with his tongue he always does when someone retorts something back to him, he has the cockiness of a thousand peacocks when he scores a goal. Â
Granted that he has something to be cocky about, especially when it comes to his abilities and achievements as the captain of the football team, you still really canât stand him. Youâre also not sure where his sick obsession with driving you insane comes from, but you donât want to find out either. You just want to be left alone.
âAnd then I told this girl that I will try making female hygiene products free for all female students across the entire campus,â your boyfriend bit into his own sandwich after explaining the brief meeting he had with student representatives this morning.Â
Sitting in the bleachers of the football field, you enjoy lunch while the sun kisses both of your faces after a long and busy morning. Heâs had meetings on top of courses, and you just finished a cramming session in the most secluded spot of the library, where you knew no one was going to find you. No one, not even him.
âYou can do that?â You ask, mouth half full with your own sandwich that he so carefully and lovingly made for you today.
He nods, chewing and looking you straight in the eye, âAs a matter of fact, I can,â his eyes sparkle in the sunlight as he looks at you, âAs the President of the student body, I can at least bring it up and fight for it,â
This is exactly why you love him. Sungchan has never been selfish, deciding to run for president of the student body so he could cater to the real needs of student, and not just asking for funding for the universityâs sports teams and for useless appliances. Heâs kind, he stands up for what he believes in, and doesnât let a certain asshole demoralise him.Â
âI want to help you out, I can go around and get people to sign your petition or somethingâŚâ You propose, feeling the crazy need to be as involved in this as he is. You can learn a thing or two about kindness, especially from your boyfriend, whoâs the salt of the earth.Â
âYou would do that?â He asks with his mouth full, and the expression heâs sporting makes warmth spread all throughout your chest, âFor me?â He points at himself, and you canât resist the urge to kiss him.
You lurch towards him, grabbing his face with your free hand to bring him closer to you, and you peck his lips in a repeated motion a few times.
âNot for you,â you whisper, letting him go, âFor women,â you correct him, and he fights the urge to laugh.
He clears his throat, âRight, my bad! What was I even thinking?â His tone drips with sarcasm, and he slaps a hand across his forehead in a joking manner.
His gesture makes you burst out laughing, and the sound is so sweet and crystalline to Sungchanâs ears, that he pulls you in for a sweet kiss. You feel him smiling as your lips press against his, responding to his kiss even if his gesture took you by surprise.
But the moment is suddenly interrupted when a ball hits Sungchanâs shoulder, making him stand up to catch the ball that had landed just a few feet away from you after hitting him, and making a screech escape you.Â
Sungchan spins the ball between his fingers, looking at you, âAre you okay?â He asks all worried, but you know heâs the one who took the hit, the ball didnât even touch you.Â
You nod, the erratic beating of your heart making your ears ring. You see Sungchan turning his head to the side, prompting you to do the same. Your blood starts boiling when you see the culprit running towards you, bright smile on display like heâs ready to frolic in a field of daisies.
You should have known Lee Haechan was going to ruin your lunch, because somehow he always ends up ruining your mood by appearing out of nowhere when youâre in public, walking or just simply chilling with your boyfriend.Â
And you know that this one sided rivalry he has with your boyfriend started the moment they both ran to become President of the student body, but ultimately Sungchan won. And what did he expect? He already was the captain of the football team, had girls lined to get to please and know him, he already had everything he wanted and anything imaginable lined in orderly manner at his feet. His greed knows no bounds, youâre now aware of it, because what was he even thinking, trying to monopolise this entire campus? Ever since your boyfriend won the race to becoming president, Haechan has made it known that he hates him, and tried numerous times to make his life a living hell â apparently even trying to hit his head with a ball just because heâs sitting somewhere in the bleachers.
âSorry guys!â He screams as he jogs leisurely towards you. His fake smile still plastered on his face, his hair bounces around like heâs the embodiment of innocence. Why is he even here? You made sure the football team didnât have practice when you decided you were going to have lunch here, âDidnât mean to hit you,âÂ
You scoff, âAre you sure about that?â You retort, jumping to your feet as soon as he gets closer enough for you to see the shadow of a smug smile in the corner of his mouth, like heâs fighting for his life not to give himself away.Â
âWell, I didnât mean to hit you,â he accentuates the word, making sure that this time youâll understand what he means, âAnd I didnât, didnât I?â He finally breaks in a smile, throwing a lazy glance towards your boyfriend. You know he did this on purpose â damn this manâs perfect aiming.
âWhat if you actually hit her, though?â Sungchan asks calmly, and you donât understand how itâs possible for him to always be this calm. With Lee Haechan showing how much he despises him, and with you getting hot headed every time this nuisance of a man is brought up, you wonder how heâs still so cool.Â
Thatâs why you love and admire him, heâs always so collected, so gentle, and even when heâs well aware that Haechanâs ball was aimed at him, he still doesnât mind. You are his main concern, because he knows he can take physical hits and insults, but you shouldnât be in this position, you should never have to go through something like this.
âBut I didnât,â Haechan shrugs, uninterested, and his gaze falls once again on your figure. Youâre nearly trembling with anger, and your fist is literally begging to be shoved down his throat â but knowing him? You think heâd like it. âI never meant to hurt her. You on the other handâŚâ Haechan tsks, shrugging again like heâs absolutely innocent, even if he just admitted to purposefully aiming at Sungchan.
You donât allow Sungchan to reply back, because you know heâs probably going to bring up Haechanâs behaviour and trying to talk things through, or maybe heâs going to bring up the fact that he could denounce Haechan to the dean â so you take matter into your own hands, literally.Â
Snatching the ball from Sungchanâs hands, you throw it at Haechanâs head with all the force you could muster up, but your attempt fails miserably when the ball lands on his chest and he blocks it with his arms, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
âItâs almost as if you didnât wanna hurt meâŚâ he lets a daydreaming sigh escape past his lips, and he looks at a spot behind you with a glimmer in his eyes.
This is another thing you hate about him. He doesnât take anything seriously, and thereâs just no way for anyone to win against him when heâs involved, be it a nerve wrecking situation, a mocking, or a fun one.Â
âI will take that ball and shove it up your ass,â you say through gritted teeth, and you hear Sungchan sighing, moving beside you to gather all your things, including the leftover sandwiches scattered to the side â because he hates littering.Â
He mumbles a âLetâs go,â in your ear, knowing youâre going to start to verbally abuse Haechan if he doesnât take you far away from said man soon, but you donât hear him or anything else he might have added, too busy being focused on Haechan and the crystalline and amused laugh that escaped him as he plays with the ball in his hands.
âWell, baby, donât threaten me with a good time!â He rasps amused when heâs done laughing, and it only makes your blood boil even more, but Sungchanâs arm is draped around your shoulders, guiding you away from the bleachers and consequently away from the football field.
And just one look back to where Haechan is still standing, just to see him throwing you heart fingers as you walk away with your boyfriend, and you raise your middle finger for him to see. But it does nothing to irritate Haechan, on the contrary â you hear him mumble a âcuteâ before he walks backwards towards the empty football field.
Lee Haechan might not have it all right now, but he knows that everything is going to change at some point. Everything will be his.
Your leg bounces as you feel like youâre being kept on pins and needles. The cool air of the night gives your bare thighs goosebumps, your skirt too flimsy to keep you warm as you totally ignored the weather forecast that called for a windy evening.Â
The autumn air is setting on everything around you, the falling leaves, the cool wind that blows in random and powerful gusts, the unpredictable weather that doesnât give anything away â not even the fact that tonight you should have put on a pair of jeans instead of a skirt.Â
Youâre growing cold, and more impatient as the time passes without receiving a sign from your boyfriend. Youâre standing right outside the theatreâs doors, ready to go in and relax while the warm air engulfs you, yet instead youâre still left outside hoping youâll get a sign that heâs close to getting here.Â
Itâs date night, youâre about to go watch a revival screening of one of your favourite films ever â Bridget Jonesâs Diary â something that Sungchan came up with in the first place, yet you still didnât get a text back from him. But you know heâs not to blame for the lack of communication, not tonight, because he told you he was going to be in a meeting with the dean and the universityâs board members to try and fight for that one project involving the feminine care products, telling you that heâll join you for date night straight out of the meeting.Â
But his tardiness is whatâs making your leg bounce. Will he make it? You donât like spending date nights by yourself, even if itâs a film you hold so dear to your heart thanks to the romantic comedy excellency. And while youâre anxious about him missing date night and the lack of communication from his part, you also want his meeting to go well.Â
Sungchanâs kindness and heartwarming personality knows no bounds, and if he succeeds and his project is approved, everyone around campus is going to truly love him. You canât imagine what the student body could have become if the other candidate won this race â you guess it was all going to be about his team getting financing for some new equipment and a ton of balls they can kick.Â
You drape your leather jacket around yourself, trying to overlook the cold thatâs starting to seep through your sweater, and you just as you start thinking you should probably go in and buy tickets for whenever Sungchan is going to get here, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your jacket.
âSo sorry Y/n, Iâm still in the meeting,â you read Sungchanâs text, and you see the three dots appearing right after he sees youâve seen the text, âLetâs go to the next revivalâ .Â
You sigh, and as much as you try remaining positive, you canât help the disappointment filling you, your heart feeling heavy with guilt and selfishness as you try to decide what you should or should not feel in this moment.Â
You feel so incredibly selfish for wanting to spend time with your boyfriend right now, like it doesnât even matter that heâs away for a good cause, and you feel like youâre contradicting yourself. You claimed youâre happy heâs doing a good thing for the student body, yet youâre disappointed this meeting is happening tonight of all nights â and that date night is completely ruined.Â
You know it isnât his fault and that there was nothing he could have done to accelerate the meeting, especially because heâs not as important as the other people in that room, so negotiations must have felt nerve wrecking to him. Yet youâre here bouncing your leg â in anger, this time.Â
You reply curtly to his text, also sending an emoji so his positivity doesnât deflate but also because you donât want to make him overthink this whole situation and make him feel bad, especially now, and you start walking back to the dorms.Â
Your inner emotional turmoil helps you with ignoring the cold, or the growing speed of the gusts of wind that feel like a slap against your delicate cheek. The disappointment takes over the selfishness and guilt, and your thoughts start battling against each other once again.Â
Thereâs a honk that makes your heart suddenly skip a beat, and you look to your left out of reflex, trying to see where the loud noise comes from.Â
Driving at a slow speed as close to the curb as physically possible, the window rolls down with an electric grinding sound, âY/n! What are you doing in the rain? Get in!âÂ
You roll your eyes, immediately recognising whose voice it is, and you just go on walking faster. You were so deep into your own head that you didnât even notice the big droplets coming down on your forehead, already starting to wet your hair.
âYouâre gonna catch a cold!â He insists, speeding up a bit when he sees you picking up your pace â nearly running, âHey! Donât ignore me!âÂ
As if I ever could, you think to yourself. You always hear him before you see him, the timbre of his voice so unmistakably him that itâs absolutely painful to try and ignore. You always end up hearing stuff you couldnât care less about, but still unable to block out his voice and the words he articulates.Â
And then you flinch hearing his prolonged honking, that you try to ignore as you try to look at the path ahead of you through all the rain coming down and straight into your face. He keeps honking, at some point picking an annoying rhythm before returning to the usual prolonged one, and it becomes clear to you that he wonât stop until you get into his car.Â
The fact that itâs evening and it might become a disturbance to the people around, especially to those who live in the area, and you really donât want to be accused of enabling this behaviour, you decide to give in â just this once.
You lurch towards his car, opening the door and getting in before he could blink twice. One more honking and you were going to flip his car off the road, youâre sure. You slam the door after yourself, making him suck air through his teeth as he picked up a normal speed.
âJesus, Y/n, whatever did that door do to youâŚâ he comments stopping at a red light, and you scoff while fastening your seatbelt.Â
But you ignore his comment, throwing him a quick look, only to find him already looking at you. Lee Haechanâs features are sparkling in the red hue of the traffic lights, damp locks covering the sides of his face after being rained on as well, most probably.Â
âWhat?â You sigh, averting your gaze from his piercing one.
âWhat were you thinking, walking in the rain?â He nags, and by the way heâs not adding anything else, you can deduce heâs actually waiting for an answer instead of being sarcastic and a nuisance like he always is.
âLike you even care?â You laugh, but it lacks amusement. As creepy as it might seem to actually think of it, Haechan knows your real laugh. Heâs heard it numerous times, when you laughed at something your friends told you, or during your shared class when your professor made a joke. Your laugh rings louder and brighter than all, and Haechan knows somethingâs off right now. âAs if you didnât throw a ball at my head last week,â
He clicks his tongue after hearing your smart mouth, âI didnât throw a ball at your head last week. But I did throw it at your boyfriendâs,â he corrects you, eyes back on the road as youâre stuck in traffic.Â
âSo now you admit you wanted to hit him,â you turn around a bit in your seat, and you see a shadow of a cocky smirk.
âBaby,â he turns around to look at you, black irises glinting in the red lights, âI admitted to it already, straight to his face,â
âWhat exactly is your problem with Sungchan?â Youâre getting worked up, not liking how relaxed heâs being with admitting to committing aggravated assault.
âWhere is he, by the way?â He asks as matter-of-factly, still looking at you to see your reaction to his words, âWhy did he leave his girlfriend alone in the cold rain?â He goes on, but his tone is light â and it doesnât have to be an accusing or mocking one to annoy you, âDid he ditch you?â
Your eyebrows furrow, scoffing, âHe did not ditch me!â You lie, shaking your head at him, âHeâs busy with presidential tasks,âÂ
âYeah, right,â He laughs, and moves his other hand on top of the steering wheel to rest, âThatâs why you were waiting in the cold and then you left when it started raining. He didnât ditch you like, at all,â Heâs ridiculing you, because he knows the truth â even if youâre not sure of how or why he does.
âDo you believe the lies youâre telling?â You try to defend your honour once again, because Haechan really doesnât need to get an insight into your relationship with Sungchan.Â
He lets a huff of laughter escape him, âNo,â he shakes his head, and the car finally starts moving, âDo you believe the lies youâre telling?â He accentuates the word, and it hits a nerve. How can he know so many things about you, even when youâre trying your best to keep a mask on?Â
âWhere am I taking you?â He asks as he didnât just read you like an open book.
You shrug, âSure, wouldnât you like to know where I live? So you can stalk me, most probably,â you accuse, looking out the window. You try to keep your usual mocking tone, the one you always use on him, and you really hope he doesnât pick up how shaken you are by the whole thing. Youâll have to do some serious introspection when you get home.
âOkay,â he claps his hands quickly, startling you, before placing them back on the steering wheel, âMaybe I should just take you to my place instead,â
You panic, straightening into your seat, âJust turn right after the lights,â You point, sighing defeated, and he bursts out laughing.
For some reason, your attitude is easily deflected tonight, and Haechan doesnât find it as enjoyable to tease you. Maybe itâs because your boyfriend isnât here to be his own personal punching bag, receiving mockery and insults and multiple balls across his head, or maybe itâs just that he sees youâre not really in the right mood for your usual back and forth. So he drops all banter, he doesnât open his mouth for the rest of the drive, and only listens to your soft breathing and the quietness of your voice as you tell him whether he needs to take a turn to the right or a turn left.
He knows where you live already, and not because he stalked you or anything. He swears he hasnât gone that far, but because he once hooked up with a girl living in your same hall, and coincidentally on your same floor too. So when he tried quietly sneaking out in the middle of the night, you were just coming home, too drunk to even acknowledge that he was a few feet away from you.
âThanks⌠I guess,â You thank him before getting out of his car, but you donât wait to hear his reply, running to the entrance to your building.Â
And Haechan should feel ecstatic that heâs managed to have this interaction with you. While every other time heâs ever talked to you, you snarled back at him or straight up ignored him, tonight you gave in a little. For fucks sake, you even asked him what his problem with your boyfriend was, and what exactly were you expecting him to say? That this isnât actually about the fact that he won the election over him with so many more votes than expected, because he actually didnât really care â because it was more like an extracurricular activity he wanted to pick up, but wasnât dying to actually win the election; or should he have told you that it all comes back to when he realised he liked you after sharing a class, but took your rejection lightly because he thought it was only going to be a matter of time until you gave in to his charms, only to then see you holding hands with his rival?
So you, the one who was so hard to get, so hard to get past the high walls you had built around yourself, you actually gave in and started dating Jung Sungchan, out of all people?
Haechan couldnât let that slide, couldnât live with the thought that the girl he has always wanted was now under the spell of his rivalâs charms. And what charms, exactly? Does he talk to you about how he excels in his statistics class? Does he rizz you up by talking about numbers?Â
Out of all the people you could have gone public with, Sungchan being the one you chose really hurt Haechanâs ego. And from being hard to get and unattainable, you started holding hands and kissing that man in public for everyone to see. So you werenât that unattainable, after all. And by the way Haechan has picked your mood tonight, he knows that your mask is not that hard to crack.
The amount of greetings you went through today has you genuinely concerned. You never knew how many students this university has, you never knew that there are about a gazillion people roaming the hallways and the public spaces of this campus, yet here you are.
Faces that youâve absolutely never seen before, faces that seemed so happy to see you even if you didnât know who they were. People who seemed to know you, yet you donât remember ever seeing them around.Â
Thatâs how your day went, at least for the first part of it. Running around campus to gather signatures on your boyfriendâs petition, and there havenât been many people refusing to sign it. Because Sungchan actually did it â he managed to get the approval from the dean and the board if he could gather enough signatures, from females and males alike, and like the good girlfriend you are â and because you promised him â you split his forms in two and started roaming around different parts of campus.Â
And unfortunately, no amount of happy faces and chatting about your boyfriendâs initiatives and feeling so proud of him could preserve the good mood you had until you reached a certain part of campus. The football field â where Haechan and his team are practicing right now.Â
You guess you could spend some more time trying to find others who still havenât signed your â or Sungchanâs papers yet, or you could get the football teamâs ones easily and on the spot.Â
So you walk over to the group of men running around like a herd of sheep, and your walk is determined. Some might think that youâre determined to burn the whole zone down to the ground, but you give everyone small smiles as they look at you confused.
Even them are freaked out about seeing you close to their captain â such a dangerous thing to witness. And then you hear him, telling them to go on with practicing, and he runs over to the spot youâre waiting in.Â
âIsnât this a nice surprise?â His tone is saccharine sweet, panting a little from all the running around. You canât believe people actually enjoy this sport, âWhat can I-â
âPlease sign this. Here, and write your full name down here,â you interrupt him, instructing him about what he needs to do by pointing the pen on the blank box top of the list.
âWhatâs this?â He furrows his brows at you, throwing you a confused look. You take a good look at him, heâs breathing heavily through his small nose, confused eyes scanning the front introductory page of the form. Thereâs sweat glistening his forehead, his cheeks are hot and rosy from being so active, and his fringe is damp with sweat, combed back and away from his forehead as he tries getting some cool air on his heated skin. Thereâs something about the way heâs so focused, so lost into thought that he brings his tongue out to dampen his bottom lip, something that makes your insides churn. Has his profile always been this good-looking?Â
âNah, no way,â he pushes the form back into your hands when he sees your boyfriendâs name on the front page, âIâm not signing this,â
âWhat?â You bark, thinking your ears are deceiving you.
âGood initiative, but I wonât sign your boyfriendâs petition,â he explains, shrugging, turning his back to you as if the conversation is really over.
But it really isnât, not until you say otherwise.
You grab him by the forearm before he can leave your side, âIf itâs a good initiative, then why donât you sign it?â You push, tone high with irritation, because heâs really pushing your buttons. Does a small disagreement between him and your boyfriend mean heâs going to overlook the needs of an entire â and important part of this community?
âI wonât do your boyfriend any favours,â he explains apathetically, looking at you briefly before his eyes land on your hand still squeezing his forearm. Your palm is tight around his tensed muscles, his skin is covered in a light sheer layer of sweat, and you feel like the skin of the palm of your hand is burning as youâre keeping him into place.
âBut you wonât be doing him a favour now,â You explain, and you fail to notice the way Haechanâs eyes soften while looking at you. Youâre still so upset that he doesnât want to help you, you know threats and verbal abuse do nothing but turn him on so itâs of no use right now.
âOh, is that so?â He relaxes, or so you think â or feel, as you feel him relaxing his arm. He leans a bit closer to you, but he really canât help it. Youâre so upset that your smart mouth doesnât make any comments right now, doesn't insult him or his sport, and you donât even notice how his chest is almost touching your arm.
Except you do pick up on his proximity to you, you pick up on the heat that comes out of his body â or maybe itâs just the sun and whateverâs making your insides churn that makes you feel this hot all of a sudden; you pick up on his faded perfume mixed with a light smell of sweat, you pick up on the way heâs looking down at you right now, even if your gaze doesnât meet his, even if you donât find it in yourself to move your eyes away from a spot on his jersey.
You gulp as discreetly as possible, pointing the pen at the empty box designed for his name, âYou would be helping me,â Your voice is small, almost as if you never wanted him to hear you, to let him hear those words come out of you.Â
Usually youâd tell him to fuck off and die â comeback that he claims he loves and never wants you to stop saying, to the point that he thinks youâre doing it on purpose just to rile him up because thereâs no way you donât know how much he loves it â but not right now. Thereâs something, a force, something thatâs unconsciously pulling you in and keeping your feet glued to the grass of the football field.
âWhat is it? Didnât catch what you said,â He mocks you, touching his ear.
âYouâd be helping me, not him,â Your words are music to Haechanâs ears, especially after not using the term boyfriend or his government name either, just a simple pronoun â but enough to have a smirk forming in the corner of Haechanâs mouth, that heâs hardly trying to hide, or barely even trying.
He tries concealing his smirk, pushing the tip of his tongue in the inside of his cheek as he turns his head a bit to the side.Â
âWell, in this case, let me sign this for you only, baby,â He rasps, and you recognise heâs using his full of shit tone on you, but you look at his face as he snatches the pen out of your hands to write his name down messily in the empty box, âGuys! Get here,â He shouts so everyone on the field can hear him, âCâmon, all of you!â He shouts once again, this time towards a couple of players that you know are his friends.
Once everyone gathers around you, he snatches the form from your hands, and points his finger towards one of the players, âAll of you, sign Y/Nâs petition,â he hands the pen to one of the players, âItâs for a good cause,â he completes, and no one actually questions him or his instructions, not caring enough to even ask you.
Youâre not sure whatâs going on, how you managed not to blow up from all the anger inside you. But you realise that this time there is none, not even a shadow of it. Under normal circumstances, you wouldnât have made it out of this place without at least one popping vein in your temple, and the only heavy feeling inside of you was caused by the anger the nuisance of a man caused you.Â
But now itâs really not the case. One more look at him, at the way heâs looking over his players making sure everyone signs your papers, authority spilling out of every single pore of his tanned skin, and you wonder if heâs ever been this way. Has he always been this tanned? Or is it just the burning sun getting to you for staying out in the field for too long? Or maybe itâs his glistening forehead thatâs whatâs bringing a certain hue to his skin.Â
And it doesnât even matter right now, what could have been or what is the cause. You know that your stomach feels weird, and that you canât really explain it. And most importantly, you canât explain why itâs difficult to leave his side right now.
You donât see Haechan for a bit over a couple of weeks after he signed the petition, which is weird and totally uncharacteristic of him. He was all up in your business, if he heard you laughing heâd pop off laughing even harder just to get your attention or get a reaction out of you â even if a bad, annoyed one. You swear he had a sensor for every time you were out enjoying your free time with your boyfriend.Â
Like that one time he popped out of nowhere when you were having lunch sitting in the bleachers, only to proceed going for your boyfriendâs head. Or that other time when you were studying with Sungchan at one of the tables in the communal areas and he popped up, once again from nowhere, to ask you for your ânotesâ from a class you remembered he totally attended.Â
And not having him around felt off, felt like there was something missing, like the gusts of wind werenât cool enough and like the leaves didnât actually crunch under the soles of your shoes as you walked around.Â
Youâre not sure what was going on, but you stopped seeing him during classes too, and thatâs when things became suspicious. What had happened to Lee Haechan? But most importantly, what was wrong with you?Â
While you felt a dark cloud on top of your head, looming and inducing anxiety like youâve never felt happiness ever before, you looked at Sungchan and tried to let everything behind. Nothing really mattered, and the cloud you felt looming was probably due to the pressure of overachieving you always felt. Maybe you were just burned out.Â
But then things felt like they were shifting, and not in the right direction. Everything felt off, like there was a cosmic imbalance that your mood picked up on, like the food was insipid, like the water wasnât thirst-quenching enough, or like your boyfriend started being too busy around campus with all his responsibilities.
If before you spent every day with Sungchan, both around campus and free time after courses were done for the day, you are now aware of the fact that these meetups have come down to one every two, three days.Â
You know he has so many more responsibilities now, trying to keep up with his studies, his hobbies, his responsibilities as the rep of the student body. Too many things to do and so little time to take care of all. And you are his girlfriend, so who else could understand him better, if not you? Whoâs going to be there for him when he falls asleep, exhausted from all the work heâs doing just to make everyone who trusts him happy, if not you?
At times you fail to understand, like those times when he falls asleep with the lights on at eight in the evening after getting out of the shower at your dorms, when you want to spend some alone time with him. Not even intimate times, it doesnât have to be all that, always, because you enjoyed your time with Sungchan doing absolutely nothing even before â like eating lunch on the bleachers, or sitting on a bench outside of campus to look at people and their dogs passing you by, making up scenarios about what their lives could be like, and seeing if the dogs looked like their owners.
The small things, the real intimacy. The watching films on a random tuesday afternoon, or feeding him cereal as he speeded through a three thousand-word essay he had a deadline for at midnight that same day.
But now Sungchan tries compartmentalising his time, getting his coursework done for the whole week during weekends, and tuesday afternoon he has meeting with professors about any complains brought up to him by fellow students. And the monotony, but especially the loneliness you feel while also being surrounded by people â including your boyfriend, are literally destroying you.
Did you already notice that the leaves donât make the crunchy sound anymore as you step on them?
âYou okay?â Sungchan asks, paper cup in his hand as he takes a sip from it. You barely register his question, but you know that your repeated sighs have prompted him to bring this up.
You hum, giving him a small smile that doesnât reach your eyes, doesnât even make your cheeks full like it always does. Even if he notices, Sungchan doesnât bring it up, and while strolling together around the streets, a huge paper cup â full of hot chocolate enough for the both of you â in hand, he hopes your sighs are just a momentary and general discontent youâre feeling. Because everyone is allowed to have those.
âSaw thereâs a revival tomorrow night, for Bridget Jones, the edge on reason,â He brings it up, hoping your mood will improve after knowing one of your favourite film franchises are slowly becoming once again available on the big screens, âWanna go together?â He proposes, giving you one of his most genuine smiles, and seeing it plastered on his face makes your heart stop.
You missed seeing your boyfriend so relaxed, so easy going for the first time in nearly a month. Autumn has already settled, and hot chocolate, popcorn, and a viewing on the big screen of Bridget Jones are the perfect anecdote to dullness and apathy.Â
But maybe youâre not ready to get rid of this dull feeling thatâs making your insides churn with graveness. Â Maybe youâre not supposed to go through with the disappointments and unhappiness you feel at times, because not even your boyfriend can help you get out of it. And in all honestly, how could he even do it, if he canât be punctual to the date he organised?Â
Bridget Jones, a nice outfit and your favourite perfume, and then maybe making out at the movies like they used to do a long time ago â and your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. You canât even reach him, knowing his phone is on dnd mode, you canât reach him not even in case of an emergency.Â
Frustrated out of your mind, and determined not to let your boyfriendâs missing date night ruin tonight completely, you decide to walk into the theatre, letting the warmth of the ambience engulf you. The typical smell of the old leather seats tickle your nose, and the velvet drapes around the entrance leading up to the ticket booth making you feel so calm, so at home, so excited that you finally decided not to be so dependable on someone you relied on for so long.Â
And being an old theatre, your ticket shows no seat. The film has just started, barely five minutes in, and you struggle to make your way through the dark as you try to find an empty seat to also please your needs as a viewer.Â
You hear some shuffling of clothes, and then a piercing whisper, cutting through the silence coming from the other viewers, âPsssst, Y/n!â Someone calls your name, but your ears seem to perk up at the whisper, somehow recognising the voice, âHere!â The person whispers once again, this time also waving their phoneâs screen your way.
Someone else shushes the person talking to you, and you hear your caller apologise, only that this time the low timbre of his voice too grave to be concealed by a flimsy whisper, and you would recognise that timbre anywhere. You squint your eyes through the dark, making your way towards the person, and you smile when you enter the last row,
âHaechan!â You whisper back, and you see him giving you a cheesy smile. He looks cozy, wearing a large sweater, you know heâs here to relax. âWhat are you doing here?â You frown at him, not thinking youâd finally find the Lee Haechan at a revival screening of Bridget Jones, while wearing cozy clothes and ruffled, unkept hair. Itâs an image you never thought youâd ever see, âWhere the hell have you been? Itâs been such a long time-â
âWhoa, seems like someone missed me,â he bats his eyes at you, and his irises sparkle in the dark thanks to the white on the big screen.
You punch him, âDonât flatter yourself, I was worried no one would be there to throw a ball at my head like, ever again,â
He rolls his eyes at you, clicking his tongue but pressing his lips in a tight line as he realised the noise he made might earn him another scorning look and a series of shushes from other people.Â
âAgain, for the hundredth time, I didnât throw it at your head,â he tries to keep his voice down, but you see his mocking expression.
âI know, I know,â you mouth for him to see, moving your hand as if to dismiss him. Thereâs something endearing about him in the dark, when his features blend and make him look like heâs never wronged you in his entire life. The crimson sweater heâs wearing makes him look like the perfect geek who leads a double, more exciting life out of his studies. Funnily enough, in real life heâs the jock â but not right now. Right now, heâs just Haechan, whoâs never really wronged you.
Haechan looks at you, at the way you pause to look at the screen. Youâre not sitting comfortably like he is, youâre seating on the edge of the seat like youâre impatient to talk to him, fully turned towards him so he can hear your whispers.Â
Your eyes are beautiful, sparkling with every flashing on the big screen, you try to suppress a smile when you hear one of the lines. He looks at the way youâre dressed â you look like youâre ready to go on a date, and a lump sets in his throat, even if he tries gulping it away as soon as possible. Just for a few minutes, heâll imagine heâs your date, and that youâre actually excited to see him tonight.
You suddenly turn around to look at him once again, and Haechan is caught off guard, caught staring, and itâs not like he hasnât been caught doing it before. But up until this moment, his staring was intentional, deliberate so as to get a reaction out of you â be it even anger. It didnât matter to Haechan, as long as he could have a bit of attention coming from you, straight directed to him, he was happy.
But now you look at him. You donât roll your eyes, you donât scream at him, you donât threaten to run him over with one of the electric bikes around campus. Youâre looking at him like youâre enjoying this moment, like youâre happy to actually see him, like there are so many things you want to ask him but donât know where to start â and Haechan is confused. What changed in the last weeks, so drastically that he doesnât have to jump through loops and do backflips into a pool full of sharks just to get your attention?
âWhy did you disappear? Where did you go?â You ask him, and Haechanâs ears perk up at your question. You seem sincere, like you actually care.
âI had a few matches out of town, with the team you know?â He tries whispering, but looks around himself to see if heâs bothering anyone around the two of you â knowing that sometimes whispering can be such a hard thing for him to do, âThen I fell ill and my parents insisted on going home to get back on track,â
Someone turns around to look at the two of you, but clearly eyeing Haechan to send a message, then turning back to look at the screen once again.Â
Haechan rolls his eyes, showing the back of the manâs head a clear middle finger, even if youâre the only one who can see his gesture, and it makes you snort.
He turns around to look at you once again, ears delighted after hearing your reaction, âAll the boys were away, you really didnât notice anyone missing?â He inquires, talking about his players.
You shake your head, looking at him confused, âI donât care about the boys,â You admit, and you see he takes a few seconds to process your words before that usual smug smirk makes an appearance in the corner of his mouth.
âSo do you finally admit you care about me?â His voice is just a bit above a whisper, raw, teasing, and his words make you roll your eyes at him. You see him laughing quietly, then looking you up and down with a teasing smile, âDate night? Whereâs that fuc-âÂ
But you interrupt him, placing two fingers on his lips in order to shut him up.
It takes him by surprise. Not only are you kind to him, and excited to see him, but youâre also touching him in a delicate way. His gaze finally meets yours, and you shake your head, giving him a sad smile.
Did your boyfriend start fumbling you? Has Haechan been away for that long?
The way you keep your cold fingers on his lips, and the way your smile doesnât reach your eyes, doesnât even reflect a gram of happiness coming from you, and the way you shake your head at him asking him to stop talking about your boyfriend makes Haechan wonder â are you asking him not to denigrate your boyfriend for the nth time, or are you asking Haechan to stop talking about him because youâd rather not hear about him right now?
Haechan decides to take his chances, hoping itâs the latter option, but it makes him curious, it makes him wonder how bad it is. Is this why youâre being so kind to him right now?Â
Your fingertips are cold yet velvety on his lips, and he grabs your hand away from his face, squeezing it gently in his. He looks at you, looks for any sign of repulsion or hatred in your eyes, and thereâs none.
Lee Haechanâs ambition has always been his biggest and best trait. One jump and he could reach the stars, if thatâs really what he wanted. Lee Haechan has never been known to be one gifted with patience, but when it came down to you, he thinks heâs been rather good with the whole waiting for you â even if it took you long to finally give in, and even if he made it his personal mission to get on your nerves. But what was he supposed to you? Getting on your nerves was the only guarantee he had that you would never forget him, his face, his voice, or his antics. He thinks heâs done a pretty good job at that.
He lets your now warm hand go, and he grabs your chin. His touch is delicate on your face, almost as if heâs fearing to touch you, but you donât move. Right this moment, this is the most excitement youâve felt in weeks, a month even â and you indulge into his touch. You need this moment to ground you, to bring you back from the uncertainties and the dark pits where your thoughts have taken you lately.Â
So when he gets closer to you, tentatively inching closer to you, you donât pull back. His cologne fills your senses when he gets closer to you, inebriating you, making you totally ignore the alarm going off in your head. Youâre about to kiss Lee Haechan.Â
âStop me if this isnât something you want,â he instructs, his voice laced with reassurance, warmth, still giving you full control of the situation. Heâs dying to kiss you, but if youâd rather insult him and go back to your usual back and forth banter, thatâs fine for him still.
But you donât oppose, you donât turn him down, you donât stop him when his thumb caresses under your bottom lip, just enough to feel a bit more of you without inching in closer to you, without going directly for your tempting lips.
And seeing as you grab his wrist, as if you hold onto it to ground you and brace you for whatâs to come, Haechan doesnât hold back anymore.Â
His lips touch your slowly, sweetly, taking his sweet time savouring this moment that he wasnât sure was ever going to happen. Because as much as Haechan has always stroked his own ego about getting you one way or another, sometimes doubts flooded his brain as well, fogging his judgement and leading to a jealousy that heâs never experienced before â not when he dated, not when he wanted something â or someone, badly.Â
But then again, Haechan has never wanted to be with someone as badly as he wanted to be with you â all unattainable and carrying yourself majestically like no man was ever good enough for you, not even him, and then you ended up dating someone that Haechan thought could have been the last man on earth before he got with a woman. And irony made it so that that man got with you.
Irony was crude, the facts laid in front of him were like a cold slap against his face, and it only fuelled his desire to break you even more.Â
Lee Haechan finally feels like he has it all â now that youâre reciprocating his kiss with ardour, now that youâre still holding onto his wrist for comfort, now that your lip balm is smeared against his own lips. And it is exactly like he imagined it would be.
You place your other hand on his chest, pushing him away from you slightly, âStop,â you mumble trying to catch your breath, and he pulls back to search your gaze. Itâs not remorseful, itâs not bashful either, but you still take a few moments to search his eyes before making a decision that could alter the way your life is going to be from now on.Â
But youâre willing to take the risk, especially after getting a taste of what the man in front of you is promising you, after getting a taste of the thrill that crosses all throughout your body â a feeling that you never realised was missing from your life, until now.
Haechan looks at you concerned, or so you think, âLets just go somewhere else,â You whisper to him, looking around yourself hoping no one else has caught up on the activities going on in the last row of seats while the film is loud and rolling.Â
Haechan canât believe your words, but he doesnât take more than a few seconds before he stands to his feet. He doesnât want to waste time, he doesnât want you to overthink this.
Is this right on his part â to knowingly mess with someoneâs feelings? No, it totally isnât. But Sungchanâs a big boy, and heâll learn to cope. Or at least thatâs what Haechan hopes.
He hopes your mind wonât travel back to your boyfriend, that you wonât care about him when Haechan is the one here with you. Haechan wants to be selfish until the end, and he really wants you. Heâs ready to put his reputation on the line if that means heâs finally getting you to be his â or with him.
Haechan canât keep his hands away from you, not as you make your way out of the screen room, not as you make your way out, stepping onto the carpeted hallways of the theatre.Â
You turn around to look at him as he follows your steps, and Haechan doesnât waste any more time. He grabs both sides of your face and brings you closer to him, lips crashing against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. You struggle to keep up with his rhythm, and you think heâs literally trying to devour your lips, wet tongue playing with your bottom lip in a nasty and hot game of dominance.Â
But you donât mind the messiness, you donât mind the desperation â youâre rather glad that itâs happening this way, because you never thought youâd be able to rile someone up this way, specifically him out of all people.Â
You catch up to his rhythm when your lips finally grant him access, and he gets lost in the heat of the moment while sucking slightly on your wet muscle, getting a small whimper out of you that has the corner of his mouth raise with that cocky satisfaction that youâve always wanted to wipe off his face.
Your insides tingle with anticipation, and you squeeze your thighs, hoping to get at least a bit of relief in the heat of the moment. And being the smug and annoying man he always is, Haechan notices immediately. Notices the shift of weight from one leg onto the other, notices the way youâre starting to reciprocate his desperation.Â
He grunts the moment his lips have to leave yours, and his hands finally let your face go, âMy place or yours?â He rasps, and the sound of his voice sends another wave of tingles straight between your thighs.
You bite your lip, looking up at him. Your place or his? You shake your head, thinking of all the indiscreet people living in your hall, and thatâs the last thing you want right now â to be seen hand in hand with another man, who also happens to be famous around campus, while your own boyfriend is still slaving himself to the presidency tasks he has to put up with. Not to mention that heâs quite popular himself.Â
And the prospect of not going to either one of your places sounds so much better to you right now, especially with how impatient youâre feeling â and youâre sure Haechan feels the same, judging by the look in his eyes, only that heâs letting you decide whatever works best for you right now.
You look around yourself, trying to get inspiration from literally anything that might remind you of a place you could go to. And then Haechan sees a sneaky smile spreading across your face as you look somewhere behind his figure, at the end of the hallway.
Lounging your arms around his figure, hands reaching for his nape where your fingers touch the strands of hair, you bring him towards yourself, catching his lips in a feverish kiss that you initiate this time, and you drag him after yourself.
Neither one of you deepens the kiss, and he follows your lead like a lost puppy that doesnât know better. He grunts against your lips, feeling your fingers still playing with his hair, and this time youâre the one smiling into the kiss.
Walking backwards and dragging him after yourself, your back touches a door, and you push it open, snatching Haechan by the collar of his leather jacket.
Haechan huffs the moment you lock the door after him, finally letting your lips go, and he looks around himself to gather his bearings.Â
He turns around to throw you a bewildered look, heâd have never picked you to be into public sex.Â
âNever had sex into a public restroom before,â You tell him, as if you could actually read his mind.
He cocks an eyebrow, âI guess thereâs always a beginning, right?â He rasps, picking a strand of hair to fix behind your ear, right before he touches the velvety skin of your face, fingers gentle against the plush of your cheeks as they travel down to your neck, âAre you sure about this, baby?â He asks, because he doesnât care if things are at stake once you two seal the deal, but he still wants you to be sure of this.
And when you nod, thereâs nothing holding Haechan back. With your back still against the door, he picks you up into his arms, and places you on top of the sturdy sink just a few inches away from the two of you.
His hips sway to make room between your thighs, and his lips find yours like thatâs routine for him, like itâs just so normal to be able to get to kiss you even if he had his eyes closed.Â
Lee Haechan feels insane. Like a mighty power has just sent him a sign, a blessing, like heâs able to kiss and cherish and feed off the sun itself. Your mini skirt moves up your thighs, and his fingers touch you, your cold skin, travelling under the hem of the skirt to push it out of his way.
He finally lets your lips go, and your panting fills the room. The anticipation is making your insides melt, and you donât think youâll be able to wait much longer. But luckily for you, Haechan seems to be just as impatient as you are, and his mouth travels to your neck, kissing the pulse line down to your collarbones.
âNo marks, please,â you whimper when you feel his teeth grazing the frail skin of your neck. Him marking you is the last thing either one of you needs right now.Â
And surprisingly enough, Haechan actually listens to your plea, making sure he comes right up to catch your lips once again â because if he canât bite and mark you, he still needs to keep his mouth busy someway.Â
Haechanâs fingers slide up your thigh, making their way to your panties, and heâs actually surprised at how soaked they are once his digits make contact with the drenched fabric covering your core.
Do you want this just as much as he does? He wonders. Apparently so, he concludes once one of his finger slides under the front of the panties in order to set them to the side, and it glides inside of your wet core with ease.
Both of you moan at the same time â you because of the slight relief his hand is bringing you, and him because heâs literally getting drunk on you. Youâre here, basically at his mercy, trembling for him to touch you, and thereâs nothing that can impede him not to do as you wish.Â
Youâre wet, your core is burning, and Haechan slides a second finger inside of you, making you moan into his mouth once again. His lips try to muffle your panting and noises you make, because you need to keep quiet if you donât want to get caught, and even if Haechan would love to hear you scream his name, he knows neither of you can afford being caught having sex in a public restroom.Â
Your hand travels in between you bodies, tentatively touching his crotch â and youâre not surprised to feel him hard as a rock under the palm of your hand. A little pressure, and the friction you apply against his groin has him sucking air through his teeth, tilting his head back and biting on his lip as to not moan your name loud enough for the entire floor to hear.Â
âNeed you,â he mumbles as he removes his fingers from your underwear and slaps your hand away.
He sees your eyes sparkling with anticipation, and if he werenât a fucking frenzied loser whose dick throbs in his pants with every little pant and whimper you let past your lips, heâd have taken his sweet time teasing you.
But heâs just as eager for this as you are, if not more. Heâs sure the sparkle in your eyes canât even compare to the pathetic look on his face, yearning to finally have you, and maybe show you that heâs not as bad as you have always thought of him.
You hold onto the sink as you wait for him to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, and just the pure sight of how heavy he looks and the colour of his glistening tip has your mouth watering. But you have to gulp it down, because youâre far too turned on right now, and indulging into sucking Haechan off isnât really an option right now. Not with how you feel, and you know itâs out of the question for him as well, judging by the look heâs giving you when you bring your gaze back up to meet his.
You nod, biting your lip with anticipation. He slides the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit a few times before lining himself up to your entrance. The moment he slides inside of you, a sigh leaves the two of you at the same time, and Haechan patiently waits for you to adjust to the stretch.
The sting of the stretch feels deliciously satisfying, and your nails dig into his covered biceps for comfort. You feel so full, and the sensation has you inebriated, waiting for Haechan to properly move inside of you.
And when he actually starts moving, giving both of you the friction you need, his lips clash on top of yours once again, trying to eat up all the sounds youâre unable to keep to yourself. The squelching of your pussy already echoes throughout the restroom, and Haechan canât risk it and have anyone hear the sinful sound youâre making â albeit youâre really trying your best to keep it down.
Haechan is holding onto you like his life depends on it, his hand keeping your body close to him as he pounds into you with a steady rhythm, and you fear the print of his hand will be left behind on your skin as a souvenir of the indiscreet activity involving you two.
But it feels to ecstatic, too good to care. Your blood feels like itâs boiling with the rush of adrenaline youâre feeling right now, your cheeks are dusted with a tinge of red tint, and one look at Haechanâs face lets you know heâs trying his best to keep it down as well. Biting his lip like heâs about to rip it off, with eyebrows furrowed â itâs a clear sign that even if heâs keeping it down, it doesât mean that heâs feeling less good, and the thought is driving you insane.
If the shushed grunts, the panting and huffing are already enough of an indicator of how good heâs feeling, but clearly kept down due to the location youâre in right now, just the mere thought of what heâd sound like if there was nothing restricting him makes your walls throb around him.
His head falls in the crook of your neck, and your perfume inebriates him even more, âYou have no idea for how long Iâve wanted you,â he rasps against your neck, lips leaving a trail of kisses up to your lips, and it feels like the words of affirmation heâs leet past his lips are whatâs getting you to reach your climax.Â
âIâm so close,â you cry, but Haechan already knew. You feel so tight around him and heâll be damned if you leave this restroom without being the first to climax, âHaechan I-â
âThatâs it,â he grunts, pelvis hitting the plush of your inner thighs as he starts making fast, erratic movements, and you recognise heâs close too, âRight there, baby,âÂ
And the pet name is enough to make the buildup pressure in your pelvis finally snap, with your thighs trembling around Haechanâs waist as he starts kissing your neck to help you ride your orgasm properly until the end. Every little spot he kisses becomes sensitive under the pressure of his flaming lips, moist pecks left behind in a trail up to your ear, and then the overstimulation becomes too much â for both of you.
The pulsing of your walls around his dick are becoming too much for Haechan to bear, and you hear a grunt and what you think is a muffled version of your name said against your shoulder, as you milk him for all his worth.
He stays inside of you a bit longer, panting against your neck as he tries to gather his bearings, and you take a sharp breath as you feel suddenly so empty once he pulls out of you.Â
He gives you a kiss before he takes a few steps back and starts arranging his clothes, pulling his pants and jeans back up like before.
You jump off the sink, and youâre glad your wobbly feet did not fail you, because they certainly feel like jelly right now, especially after experiencing one of the most intense orgasms ever. You arrange your panties as they were before Haechan set them to the side, and you turn around to fix your makeup in the mirror.
âLet me give you a ride home,â he proposes, but it comes out more as a question. You look at his reflection in the mirror as you get rid of the faintest smudges of mascara under your eyes, and you see him looking right back at you in the mirror, while buckling his belt and arranging the clothes around his waist.
Your gaze falls on his waist, and you hate to admit that you were too busy bickering with this man to notice that heâs incredibly gorgeous and with a perfect body. Or maybe youâve always known, and thatâs what made you dislike him, plus the arrogance and talking back that added to the whole thing.
Stupid, stupid girl, you think to yourself as you look him in the eyes as heâs standing behind you, waiting for your answer.
You turn around, giving him a small smile as you take a few steps towards him, âI think Iâll just walk,â you tell him, and God knows you need it right now, âIâll see you around, Haechan,â you get on the tip of your feet to reach for his lips, only giving him the shadow of a peck, with your lips barely touching.
And then you walk out the restroom, leaving him behind, but you can hear an incredulous huff escape him right before you close the door shut behind you.
What happened tonight doesnât really hit you until youâre into the elevator of your student hall. After the cool air you endured on your walk home, the warmth of the elevator â and the typical smell of the student hallâs hallways that you associate with the smell of home â is making you come to your senses.
You cheated on Sungchan. You actually did it, and thinking about it right now makes you realise you didnât think twice before doing it. You cheated on your boyfriend, so why do you feel so fulfilled right now?
But it doesnât last long, because the moment you open the door to your room, you immediately notice the lights on. Sungchan jumps off your bed to come straight to the door, pushing it closed as he drags you inside to take a good look at you. You know he got in by using your spare key, like he always does.
âOh my god, Y/n, where have you been?â You can see heâs worried, and you know him well enough to know there are a few things weighting on his mind right now, âIâm so sorry for earlier, I should have put on a reminder and then when I looked at my phone I remembered date night,â he squeezed your arms, and you feel the emotions weighting in his voice, âI came to the theatre but it was too late into the screening and the staff didnât let me in so I came here to wait for you,â
You blink a few times, looking up at him and his panicked state, and you place your hands on his chest, âWhy are you so worried?â You ask him, and you see him inhaling through his nose like heâs trying to calm himself down from having a panic attack.
âYou didnât answer your phone so I was very worried, I guess you finally put it on dnd,â he hints at all the times your phone rang with notifications, waking him up when you two spent the night at either oneâs place, and he literally begged you to put it on dnd so as not to wake him up, âI feel so bad for missing date night and being away all the time, Iâm so, so sorry Y/n,â he breathes out, and a lump forms in your throat.
He crouches down, engulfing you in a hug and actually picking you off the ground, squeezing you into his arms as he hugs you, âDid you have fun watching Bridget Jones?â He asks, voice muffled into your shoulder.
Guilt starts pooling in the pit of your stomach, and you feel like youâre about to hurl when the events of tonight replay into your head. You cheated on Sungchan.Â
âYes,â you gulp, trying to get rid of the lump, âI had a lot of fun,â
And the worst thing is, that besides the guilt you feel about cheating on your boyfriend, you actually had a lot of fun, indeed.
A few days ago, you made a few grave mistakes.
Mistake number one, you cheated on your boyfriend. Event that literally induces the worst case of guilt and anxiety youâve ever experienced in your life.
Then, thereâs mistake number two, which basically revolves around who you cheated with. Because heâs been the worst thing that has ever happened to you â but also the best.Â
Moving on, mistake number three, the fact that youâve found yourself thinking about Haechan in all the ways you really shouldnât be thinking of right now, not when thereâs a whole other man sending you âI love youâ texts every night before bed.Â
And finally. Mistake number four, setting your phone on dnd. Because you reflected on this, and the fact that Sungchan couldnât reach you and no notifications made it onto the screen of your phone the whole night, might have added to the out of character behaviour you have shown a few nights ago. Because youâre sure that seeing his name would have grounded you somehow, would have made you remember that youâre into a committed relationship.
The only problem? You started doubting yourself and all the bullshit you tried selling yourself about the whole remembering your boyfriend, when you realised you replaced the thought of him with actually thinking about Haechan.Â
Right after you arrived back from the theatre, right after your boyfriend calmed down and decided to spend the night and sleep over, right after you heard his breathing even out after falling asleep â you fell victim to Lee Haechan once again. You tossed and turned in bed while thinking about him, about his lips on yours, about his lips on your skin, the impatient fingers that caressed your thighs and core, the whining and grunting and whispering, the way he made you feel. It all drove you insane.Â
For days and nights, and itâs like this man has casted a spell on you, because you think about him permanently. And it only makes you feel frustrated and guilty, especially because youâre in a committed relationship.Â
But you came to the conclusion that you need to talk to him, sort things out, and try to get him to understand that no one has to ever know about the indiscreet actions that took place a few nights ago.
You learned at what hours the football practice takes place, and you waited for everyone to leave, thus granting you the opportunity to be left alone with their captain.Â
Guilt starts pooling in the pit of your stomach once again, when you remember that you lied to Sungchan once again, just a bit earlier â telling him your afternoon classes were postponed and that youâd be home studying. Technically, you didnât really lie, because your classes have been postponed and he could check if he really wanted to â although you know Sungchan is not that kind of person. But worst thing of all is the fact that you knew heâd be away until late at night and he wonât be even thinking about you today, or crashing over to your place anytime soon either, given the fact that he is back to being busy. His worrying and guilt from that night have done absolutely nothing to change that aspect of your relationship, for he was back to being busy every day, and you were back to feeling alone and neglected.Â
You finally straighten your back, sitting up in your seat when you notice Haechanâs team leaving the locker room. You count them, noticing that Haechan is not walking along with them, so you move as discreetly as possible towards the locker room, light steps not making one sound as you move closer to the door, and only one other voice can be heard on its other side â a light melodic humming.
You slowly push the door open, peaking inside to see an empty room, and you lock the door behind you â not risking being caught in the locker room with the captain of the football team by anyone, not even by his bobblehead team players.
You follow the humming, and you recognise the timbre of his voice, even if it takes you aback. You never picked singing to be another addition to Haechanâs long list of skills, and you hate that heâs good at literally everything, even the weirdest or most unimaginable things, you could find out one day that heâs a master at those as well.Â
The room smells like sweat and old leather, and the humid air coming from the showers in the other room tickles your nose.
You canât help but sneeze, and Haechan flinches in front of his locker, turning around to look at you like a deer in highlights. Heâs freshly out of the shower, with a towel hanging low on his hips â too low, so dangerously low that it has you gulping, making you avert your gaze as soon as possible before all the thoughts youâve had lately come back to you right now.
His face lights up after seeing you standing in the middle of the room, âAh yes,â he sighs dreamily, âThey always come back for more,â
âDonât compare me to one of your skanks,â You roll your eyes, scoffing after hearing his words, âWe need to talk,â
He gives you a smile, dragging his shower flip flops as he moves around the room, getting closer to where youâre standing. His towel is still hanging dangerously low on his hips, droplets of water still on his skin, sliding down his torso.Â
He snaps his fingers in front of your nose, âThen maybe you should stop eyeing me, and start talking,â he retorts, placing his hands on his hips, waiting for you to snap out of your reverie.
âWhat?â You gulp, looking at him confused, too busy looking at the tanned skin of his torso to remember what you were saying.
âYou said we need to talk. What I have to say might anger you, so you should go first,â he explains, and what heâs implying is unsettling to you.Â
âWhat happened the other day canât happen again,â you start, not willing to waste time, especially because Haechan seems to be back to his old ways â doing whatever he can to disturb your peace of mind.
âThe other day?â He repeats, looking at you confused, âWhat happened the other day? I think youâll have to remind me,â he shrugs, pouting with fake innocence.
âCan you stop acting this way for just one minute? This is serious!â You push at his chest, yet he doesnât flinch. His skin is still wet and so incredibly smooth to the touch, and your hands are begging for you to keep them on his chest â maybe even slide down on his torso. You shake your head slightly, trying to shake the thoughts away and snatching your hands away form his figure, âThis has to remain between the two of us, and it wonât happen again,â
âIt wonât?â He pouts, and starts inching dangerously closer to you.
You hate his mocking, patronising tone, but you donât have it in you to fight back, not when you can literally smell the scent of his shower gel on his skin.
Heâs getting so dangerously close to you, and you try stepping back. His steps are slow, calculated, a small smirk of victory plastered on his face when your back touches one of the lockers, and he brings one arm up, placing the palm of his hand on the locker behind you, nearly caging you.
And youâre once again at his mercy.
âOh, poor baby,â He pouts once again, tone light and sarcastic like he knows youâre about to be putty in his hands, âIs this about your boyfriend?â He asks, not dropping the mockery in his tone. His index travels on your skin, and you swear you feel goosebumps forming all the way down your back, âDo you feel sorry for him? After I fucked you in the restroom the other night?â
Your cheeks grow hot after hearing his words, and he notices them immediately, pinching your left cheek lightly with his fingers.Â
âAnswer me baby,â He rasps, and you hate the way his voice is making your insides tingle once again, âIs this about your boyfriend?â
âNo,â you lie, but he doesnât buy it â you know this by the way he lets a huff of laughter escape past his lips, and he looks down at you as if heâs deciding wether to let it go or just go on with his act.Â
He wets his lips, âAre you sure baby, that this isnât about him? That you donât actually care about him?âÂ
You shake your head, finally raising your gaze to properly look into his eyes, âThatâs precisely the point!â You retort, shaking your head at him, like heâs stupid and he just canât understand your words â but he does, he understands too well, and he canât let it happen, âI care about him and want to protect him!â
âOh,â He scoffs, mocking you, âIs that right?â He raises his brows, not buying a single word that youâre so adamant to make him believe, âYou cared about him when you were moaning my name? Or when you let me cum inside you?â He mocks you, an incredulous sigh leaving him as he look down at you.
Your body feels on fire â out of shame, but also because you know heâs right. But you canât let him win, you canât let him know that you agree with every single word heâs saying. The truth stings, and the truth is that you blatantly cheated on Sungchan with someone you never even thought you had it in you to stand.
âHe canât know,â Your voice is small, and you look down to his V line just to escape his piercing and mocking gaze. Your cheeks are on fire as you feel like youâve been caught red handed and put to shame.
âOh, poor baby,â He pouts again, his tone babying you around. He grabs your chin between his fingers, slowly pushing it upwards so he can take a good look at your eyes, and you donât fight it, âHe doesnât have to know,â He concludes, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb.
His words feel heavy with implications that youâre not willing to desiccate right now, not when his gaze is this intense. Your breath catches in your throat and you feel so small under his gaze, but you honestly canât believe the amount of feelings that come crashing onto you violently â too hard to navigate right now when you feel like heâs a predator waiting to take a bite out of you.Â
Haechan doesnât let go of you, and you donât make a move to get away from him. You genuinely feel trapped â trapped between his body and the way out of the locker room, and trapped between your boyfriend and the man in front of you, whoâs been on your mind more than youâd like to admit.
Why is it so hard for you to push him away and leave? Itâs like his gaze and allure is keeping you here, glued to the lockers and doomed to be impossibly close to his half naked body. Your eyes fly over to his defined bicep, that heâs not even flexing to show off, yet the outline of his muscles makes your stomach flutter.Â
âEyes up here, baby,â He commands, and your eyes follow his instructions as soon as the words leave his mouth. He crouches down a little, lips close to your ear, âWhat would he do if he knew about us?â His whispering gives you goosebumps, and you gulp as discreetly as possible, âWould he come for me? Would he cry?â He lets a deep giggle escape him, and warm breath fans down on the skin of your neck as he moves his mouth just below your ear.
âYou wanna protect him, or us? Hmm?â He goes on, rasping down your neck as his nose nuzzles your pulse line, âDid you feel good the other night, baby?âÂ
You inhale deeply when you feel his free hand playing with the hem of your shirt. His fingers travel under your shirt, and he caresses your abdomen from your navel all the way to the plush of your sides, that he squeezes gently as a warning for you to answer to him, and you canât find the words to answer him, instead just nodding slightly.Â
He hums once again after feeling your almost imperceptible nodding, and he starts playing with the button of your jeans.Â
âI can give you so much more baby, if youâd allow me,â He picks at your jeans, fingers lingering for far too long on your skin. His digits leave you burning, and your insides start tingling once again with anticipation, âOnly between us,â
He doesnât need to tell you anything else, because the way you grab his hand so gently, as if youâre doing it to try and stop him but he knows youâre only holding onto him because you need him just as much as he needs you. Just the thought of him corrupting you into giving in to your deepest desires and overlooking all the lies you just told him, is making his cock twitch with excitement.
He grabs your hips, moving his fingers under the waistband of your jeans, trying to get to touch as much skin as possible. Haechan shows his affection through actions, gestures, touches, and to actually get to touch your soft and velvety skin makes it hard for him to refrain from letting a whimper escape past his lips.
He drags you after himself, moving you around like youâre putty in his hands, fingers still massaging your waist. He drags you to the nearest seating spot in the room, a medical bed in the corner and the mere sight of it has your skin burning with anticipation. Your oversized shirt feels too tight on you all of a sudden, like itâs burning your skin, like itâs suffocating you.Â
âWill you allow me, baby?â He rasps, voice raw and low, that sends waves of excitement straight in between your thighs.Â
You nod immediately, not sparing it much thought. Your thinking process needs to be studied, you think, because how has your attempt to shut Haechan up about your indiscretions turned up to have him with a hard on on him that has you gulping, and you feeling helpless as you get enticed to actually do anything for the man in front of you? Like he has some sort of power over your mind and body.
Haechan doesnât need to be told â or shown â twice, pushing your jeans down your hips, letting them fall to the ground before he helps you out of them.Â
âTake this off,â He commands, slightly pulling at your shirt, and you discard of it as instructed. He doesnât waste any time, immediately handling you around, grabbing you by the waist to place you on top of the medical bed.Â
He looks at you briefly. Your pupils are blown out with anticipation, cheeks burning even before heâs even started his ministrations on you. He wishes he could kiss the pout on your lips away, help you discard all thoughts and worries, and then it hits him â he doesnât have to wish for it, because youâre almost naked in front of him and he can do whatever he wants.
So he kisses you, he catches your lips in a sweet, slow and anticipatory kiss that promises you youâll be taken care of. Thatâs all he ever wanted, and heâs so glad youâre finally here, allowing him to do all this â agreeing to let him past your barriers even if you tried your best to stand true to your supposed principles. Yet here you are, barely covered in front of him, ready to actually give yourself to him once again.Â
Haechan looks at you once again, right before he bends down to give you small kisses all across your neck â his favourite part on you, due to your intoxicating scent, â and your collarbones. His fingers start playing with the strap of your bra, finally pushing it down, taking the garment fully off you to leave you in all your glory, and finally and fully at his mercy.
âLay down,â his tone is full of authority, and you donât think twice before following his commands, laying your almost bare self on the bed.
Haechan looks at you from head to toe, laying so prettily for him to finally touch you. Your blown out pupils are adorable, and itâs so hard for him not to make a comment about it. Yet he refrains, because he sees youâre wearing a pretty matching set, and he knows what this means.
You can lie to yourself all you want, but you canât lie to him. Not when the signs are laying bare in front of him, not with the matching set, the hard nipples poking through the lace of your pretty bra, and the goosebumps covering your skin.
âSpread your legs for me, baby,â he rasps, getting on top of the bed with you, settling at the foot of the bed right in between your open thighs. He bends over your figure, leaving open kisses over the waistband of your panties, âSuch a good girl for me,â He rasps, and the pet name has you whimpering, hips bucking with anticipation, and a devious smile appears on his face, âSo impatient,â He tsks, placing the palm of his hand on your lower abdomen, a clear sign to make you relax back down.Â
His fingers slide under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them somewhere behind himself, right before he comes up to look at you in all your glory.
âSuch a pretty baby,â he comments more to himself, but you hear him nonetheless, and his fingers tentatively move up and down your slit, between your folds, down to your entrance and then up to your clit.
The moment his digits find your bundle of nerves your hips buck up once again, and you gasp when he takes his hand away, suddenly too disappointed not feeling his touch anymore.Â
He gets comfortable at the foot of the bed, laying on his stomach, and he doesnât waste time before his face settles between your spread thighs. Breath fanning hot on your glistening core, you feel like you might be going insane when you see him only looking at you, like heâs savouring every bit of the torture heâs subjecting you to. Is this his punishment for you? For coming by today and bringing up what happened between the two of you, so he makes sure you canât run away and forget about him? It sure seems like thatâs exactly what heâs doing, and you feel strangely aroused by it.Â
And like he knows whatâs going on inside your mind, he starts leaving open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, like heâs asking you to be patient just a bit longer, but also testing your limits. The trail of kisses travel across your thighs, and you bring your hands up to your hair, slightly pulling at it out of exasperation.
And thatâs exactly when you least expect it, thatâs when Haechanâs mouth finds your core, plump lips settling directly around your clit, latching onto it before his tongue twirls around it.
âFuck, Haechan,â you moan his name, and slam your hands on the bed to your sides, fingers fast with grabbing the edges of the mattress and holding onto it like thatâs going to prevent you from making any more noises and losing your sanity.
Haechan chuckles, bringing a hand to push your leg upward, making space for him to have you at his mercy. His tongue swirls, his lips slurp, and his nose bumps your clit with every movement his tongue makes to your entrance, teasing it.Â
âKeep it down baby, if you donât wanna get caught,â he grunts, words muffled with his mouth still latched onto your core, and the vibrations are almost too much for your aroused self.Â
He lays on one elbow, head resting on the plush of your inner thigh, and he brings your free hand down, placing it on top of his head. Your fingers move out of instinct, taking his still damp fringe away from his tanned forehead, one of your favourite features of his, now in all his glory as he looks up at you with dark eyes, mouth still working around your clit.
He brings a hand up, and slides two fingers inside if you. Youâre aroused and dripping, enough for him to slide in and out of you easily â way too easily. The stretch feels good, but itâs almost not enough, and he scissors his fingers inside of you, with his tongue working relentlessly around your clit, and the sensation and his unpausing ministrations make that specific pressure build up faster than youâd have ever expected to happen.
He moans when your fingers scratch his scalp, as you move his hair away from his eyes, and his fingers slide in and out of you at a faster pace.
He whimpers at the feeling, hips rutting onto the harsh fabric of the towel, bringing his hard on a bit of relief. âPull my hair,â He pleads, and it doesnât take you more than two seconds to follow his instructions. Haechanâs eyes roll to the back of his head as he lets a moan escape him, so loudly that it echoes throughout the entire emptiness of the locker room, and you hope no oneâs outside to hear the lewd noises both of you are making.Â
But the pleasure feels like itâs just too much, and you forget about any last bit of shame you might feel if there was anyone outside hearing you. Your insides are burning, and the view between your legs does nothing but build up the pressure in your lower stomach an unbearable amount.
âFuck, Haechan Iâm- Iâm so close,â but he does nothing but hum against your almost throbbing clit, and you pull his hair, trying to unglue his head from between your thighs, âI donât wanna cum like this,âÂ
And thatâs enough for Haechan to stop, unlatching his lips away from your clit and taking his fingers out of you. He was going to have you melting on his tongue, but heâs willing to do anything for his baby â anything his baby wants. And if you need to have him fucking you through your orgasm, who is he to deny it to you?
You look at him, at how his chin is glistening with your arousal yet he doesnât seem to care, and frankly neither do you. He jumps right up on his knees, and gets rid of his towel from around his waist, and the sight of his V line leading right down to his perfect, girthy cock is making your walls clench around nothing.
He moves his cock up and down your slit, but he doesnât move forward. He bends down, peppering kisses across your abdomen all the way up to your breasts, and his tongue traces your chest, the curve of your breasts as his hands squeeze them, keeping them together for him to nuzzle into them, plump lips soon latching onto your nipples like heâs a dying man and thatâs the last thing heâll ever do.Â
You cuss under your breath, and you move your hips around, lining his cock to your entrance â and you hope he gets the message. And he does, but being the ever so insufferable being, he still chooses to ignore you. The corners of his mouth curl up into a cocky smirk, and the fact that itâs arousing you even more doesnât help.
Finally coming up to your level to catch your lips with his, he kisses you. Heâs wanted to do it ever since you laid down on this bed, ever since you bit your lips so much in order not to let out all the sounds he was trying to get out of you â making them plump and calling for him. Youâre so sweet, and he canât get enough of you.
He bites down on your bottom lip, playfully, and breaks the kiss, âTell me what you want,â
âYou,â Your reply is curt, cut to the chase. Youâre willing to scream it for him if it meant heâd stop playing around and would just fuck you already.Â
âWho?â He raises one brow, looking down at you. But he canât resist the way you look, and the realisation that heâs once again about to fuck you hits him, so he bends down to give you another kiss.Â
It isnât desperate, but it doesnât make it less hungry. He lets you decide the pace of it, and the moment you feel youâre in control of the whole situation, you wrap your legs around his waist. You suck on his tongue, gently biting the tip an making his whimper.
He breaks the kiss, throwing you a smirk, âAre you sure you want me? I thought this couldnât happen again,â
Your cheeks feel like theyâre on fire once again, and he takes mercy on you this once, finally choosing to both end your suffering and stop you from trying to come up with a smart reply to what he just said. He pushes into you, and you grab him, latching onto his biceps.Â
Gasps of relief escape both of you, because to put it frankly, Haechan felt like he was going insane just as much as you. The warmth of your pussy welcomes him, while his girth stretches you deliciously, and Haechanâs hips freeze as he bottoms out into you, allowing you to adjust to him. It take him all the self control he can muster not to move right now, and the way your walls are throbbing around him itâs making him almost ready to spill into you.Â
He kisses your neck, trying to make you relax, he soothes your waist, caressing your middle up to your breast. His lips travel all the way to your jaw, finally reaching your lips, and he focuses on the softness of them, the rhythm you pick up as they sync with his, the way your hands grab each side of his face, bringing him closer â as if that was physically possible.Â
And then Haechan feels you relaxing a bit around him, and his hips starts moving slightly. The friction feels too good, and heâs filling you fully, making you feel so drunk on him and everything he has to offer.Â
âFuck, baby,â A low grunt escapes him, and he pushes up and away from you, moving your legs around so he can get to a new angle, âYou feel so good,âÂ
He tilts his head, relishing into the feeling of your warmth and wetness welcoming and taking him so well. Youâre so eager for him, so ready to take him all. And the picture painted in front of you makes your walls clench around him. The way heâs holding your legs apart, head tilted on his back â neck exposed and asking for you to mark his tanned skin â his entire body that looks like the best artist has spent the longest time meticulously sculpting him to make him perfect.Â
You see droplets of sweat on his chest, and you claw at his navel in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself. Heâs moving inside of you with ease, setting a delicious pace that makes your insides burn and the pressure inside your lower tummy building up once again, this time at an alarming pace.
It feels insane when you think that Haechan turns you on to this extent, but one more look at the man moving in and out of you right now makes it more believable, understandable. Â
âYou want to protect him, huh?â He growls, moving one hand to your stomach to keep you under his control, âIâm the only one you need,âÂ
It feels like a threat, the echo of his grunting repeating into your head even through all the inevitable noises the both of you let out. A threat that no man is ever going to be enough for you ever again, a threat that no one will do it like he does.Â
And the worst part of all is that you actually believe his words right now.
âOh my- Fuck, Haech-â You donât have the time to finish, interrupted by the climax hitting you out of nowhere, and he comes down once again, caging you between his arms as he kisses you, trying his best to muffle the sinful sounds youâre making.
âI know, baby,â He tries to reassure you once your legs start trembling from all the overstimulation, and his own climax hits him when your legs wrap around his waist tightly, caging him.
He falls on top of you, mouth latching onto your nipple once again just so that he can keep it busy somehow, otherwise he knows he could wake the dead with how obnoxious his sounds can get.
And when he finally lets go, he relaxes on top of you, staying close to your chest, panting down on your breasts as he tries to catch his breath.Â
You bring your hands up out of instinct, fingers playing with his hair in order to soothe him, and you swear you can nearly hear him purr as he relaxes under your touch, cheek glued to your hot skin.
You gulp, thoughts once again flooding your mind.
This canât happen again.Â
It happened again.Â
And again, and again. And again. You lost count of how many times it kept happening.
Your little arrangement with Haechan came up to last for a few months, all the way through autumn, up to nearing Christmas. Sneaking around, Haechan spent the nights with you more than youâd like to admit. Either at your dorms or his apartment, Haechan knew how to take care of you, spending every other night together like it was routine already, like he was your boyfriend, the one meant to sleep on your pillows and use your expensive shampoo, like he was the one meant to get to kiss you every time he felt like doing it, like he was the only one meant to witness you at your most intimate and vulnerable state.
Haechanâs greed knows no bounds, he wants to have it all with you, even if it means the two of you have to hide for a while. Haechan wants it all â the kisses, the cuddles, the moans, the holding of hands, the intimacy. He wants it all with you, and the fact that he knows youâre not committed to him like he is to you literally kills him.
He doesnât mention it anymore, he just lives in the moment, but one thing is for sure â he doesnât let you get away from him. When your boyfriend is busy with tasks, which means about five nights a week, Haechan would be there with you. When your boyfriend is too tired to be spending time with you, Haechanâs there for you. Sure, he canât take you out, he canât hold your hand, he canât kiss in you in public whenever he feels like it, but he can do it in the privacy of your dorm that has almost become his space too, that has almost started smelling like him too.Â
Haechan loves loving you, loves pleasuring you, loves being devoted to you, but he canât help but wish that things were different, to the point that he started suggesting outing yourselves to everyone â even suggested talking to Sungchan about it.
You always picked a fight with him, telling him heâs insane for even thinking you could do it or even thinking that the two of you could ever be together like that, for the whole world to see. Fights and arguments that hurt him, your words piercing through his chest and ego as if you never actually chose to be actively involved with him, like you never call him even to ask what heâs doing or what heâs eaten for the day. Fights that always end with him leaving you behind, but always coming back to you at some point because he canât seem to be able to go on without you in his life.
As much as your words sting, and your actions infuriate him, Haechan knows he has developed a real dependency when it comes to you. And he loves it when you donât seem to mind him being all up into your personal space, into your life. Sure, you seem to be worried about your boyfriend finding out, but Hacehan doesnât really care. Haechan want to be able to tell the entire world that heâs obsessed with you, that heâd give up his reputation he so carefully worked on just to be with you. The heart wants what it wants, and his heart wants you.
He doesnât care about Sungchan at all, no remorse, nothing that can make him feel guilty about it. But he sees how guilt gets to you out of nowhere, ruining your night â thoughts flooding your head and making it unbearable for you to live peacefully.
âMaybe you should tell him,â Haechan suggested one night, right after you ended a call with a very exhausted Sungchan who told you he couldnât see you that night. You already knew that, and that was precisely why you were already spending it with Haechan.
You turned to look at him, âWhat?â You barked, shaking your head, âAre you insane?â
He shrugged looking down to his bowl of ramyeon, âIâm just saying that it might help you ease your mind,â He slurped his ramyeon like he didnât just stir the internal conflict going on inside of you.
âWhat do you mean?â You asked, keeping your voice down, not wanting to cause a scene before he actually explained himself.
âI mean that heâs always so fucking busy that he wonât mind you breaking up with him anyway, or the other way âround,â His words felt like a slap to your face, and you set your own bowl of ramyeon aside.
âAre you implying that he doesnât care about me? Or that I donât care about him?â Your voice started raising in volume, and Haechan could tell by the crease between your eyebrows that you were about to go ballistic on him.
âDoes he care about you? Not even bothering to call you or make some time to be with you,â He spat, tone venomous, but he didnât stop there, âAnd you? Do you care about him like you claim you really do? Itâs only Wednesday and I already fucked you four times this week,â
You picked your bowl, standing to your feet and walking towards his kitchen, âIâm leaving,â you threw the bowl in his sink, too upset to stay in the same space as him.Â
Exactly like he thought you would do, escaping him and his trying to just talk with you, you decided itâs best to leave instead of listening to him.
âMmhh-mhm,â You heard him humming right before you slammed his door.Â
But Haechan really hates seeing you so miserable, and most of all hates when you dismiss him. When will you see that heâs the one for you? When will you see that he has all the answers to your questions? When will you see that he cares about you, and that he actually has feelings for you?
Youâre so blind â blinded by the guilt eating at you every single day. Youâre scared, having to confront your boyfriend and come clean to him, hurt him, only because you felt neglected a while ago and you fell for somebody else in the meanwhile? Isnât it such a diabolical thing to do to the one youâre supposedly in a committed relationship with? Thatâs precisely why you chose to postpone the talk you needed to have with Sungchan a while ago, now long overdue.
But at the same time, while postponing such an important thing, you never declined yourself the pleasures of being with Haechan.Â
And your poor boyfriend, bless his heart, he has absolutely no idea whatâs going on. You see him so rarely, even when youâre both on campus, and you havenât been intimate in months â with him being too busy and tired to pay attention to you, and with you being too into whatever you have going on with Haechan.Â
The relationship status shifted, you almost felt like Haechan took Sungchanâs place into your life without too much difficulty, and the worst part of all was still not having your boyfriend by your side. Because if you did, you could have dismissed Haechan properly, but you knew Sungchan wasnât present and certainly the doubts and guilt ate at you every single day of the past few months.
Yet Haechan has always been there to soothe it all, even if he had to wait to be at home in order to take care of you and show you just how much he wants to be in your life. You slowly came to realise that Haechan might be everything youâll ever want and need into your life, and the thought of it scared you.Â
You felt protected, at ease, you felt appreciated, taken care of. But the thought that you might be ruining someone elseâs life because of your reckless behaviour eats at your chest like a disease.
You were sure Sungchan was about to find out about your affair with Haechan, during the last game you attended.Â
Sungchanâs love for sports was a given, and the so called rivalry between him and Haechan has never stopped him from being present in the bleachers for some games. With you sitting next to him, your insides churning with anxiety at the thought of Sungchan catching on what was going on based on the location and your behaviour alone.
And you felt like the sky fell on you when Haechan looked through the bleachers as he was roaming around the field. Heâd never done that, it was so uncharacteristic and it sparked debates among the sea of people watching the game. A new girlfriend, a special someone, a friend â he had to be looking for someone.
And then the idiot pointed at you right before a penalty kick. Your breath stopped seeing him pointing towards where you were sitting â granted that you knew everyone saw the area and not the direct spot you were in, thanks to the distance. And then you felt on the brink of passing out when you saw Sungchan straightening his back, and then his gaze landed on you.
âY/nâŚâ He started, and your heart nearly stopped. You swear your ears were ringing and your head spinning terribly, âBabe do you think heâs going to aim at my head again?â He sighed, looking at Haechan, âI feel like heâs going to do it,â He kept going, and you would have laughed if it werenât for your panicked state.
Itâs been two weeks since, and everything that happened on that day goes on haunting you. To the point you canât deal with it anymore, because itâs consuming you in the worst of ways. You canât sleep, you canât eat properly, you canât focus on your tasks and studies, and you definitely canât be intimate with Haechan.
Well thank God, youâd think that getting laid was the last of your worries, but you still chase the high and the feelings you feel when you are with Haechan, and not being able to climax because of all the stress you are being subjected to is a pretty big deal to you, a question mark that you certainly know the answer to â and it is long overdue.
Thatâs why youâre right in front of Sungchanâs door, knocking twice instead of using your key heâs given you. You feel like youâre visiting an old friend you love and care for, instead of your boyfriend, and using your key feels absolutely wrong to you.
âY/n? Babe, what are you doing here?â He asks, opening the door to let you in.Â
He is busy as always, and he already told you heâd be calling it a night very early. Heâs still studying, books and papers scattered around the wooden floors of his place, and you feel so out of place in his small studio.Â
âIs everything alright? I thought we talked on the phone about this but I think we should actually order something to eat?â He rambles, and you know heâs doing it out of excitement that youâre there with him, despite telling you heâs too tired to entertain you tonight.Â
âWould you like pad thai or maybe mandu?â He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he thinks of all the things heâd like for you to have, âOr maybe we can have pho? But thatâs best if we have it fresh and itâs more lik-,â
âSungchan I slept with Haechan!â You burst suddenly, closing your eyes at the outburst and word vomiting. He was getting too cheery and too talkative and it didnât help with the internal and mental turmoil going on inside of you.
Your world stills, and youâre sure his does as well, with the way his excited words are left hanging in the air. Silence settles, and you wish you could tell you feel a bit better after telling the actual words, but itâs really not the case.
âWhat?â He whispers, squinting his eyes incredulously.
âI slept with Haechan,â You confess once again, this time calmly, but it doesnât mean that you feel less guilty about it. You look into his eyes, and you see the sparkle fading.
He inhales sharply, straightening his back, âHow many times? One?â He tries, exhaling when you donât give an answer, not even a nod or a shake of your head, âTwo?â He touches his stomach, and you know his very anxious self feels like throwing up right now.
He might just throw up on you right now. You know you deserve it.
You shake your head imperceptibly, lips forming a straight line as your gaze bores into his, âMore than twice,â you confirm to him, not having it in you to tell him more details of the ordeal you committed, âI felt so out of place and alone and I donât even want to find an excuse for it, but it happened and Iâm sorry for it,â you have another bad case of word-vomiting when you see him keeping his mouth shut.
He sighs, taking his glasses off and throwing them tiredly on top of the table nearby, âI think you should go now, Y/n,â He mumbles, averting his gaze, and you wish you could talk things through with him, apologise profusely about everything youâve done to him, but you know that you staying here for longer might hurt him even more.
You nod, walking past him and going straight up to the front door, and you only look back once before exiting.Â
Sungchan doesnât turn around to look at you.Â
You were hoping that coming clean to Sungchan was going to help with your anxiety and feelings pooling in the pit of your stomach, but you guessed wrong.
What the fuck is wrong with you? You cry, barely seeing where your steps are taking you. The look in his eyes still haunts you, and that unbearable feeling of being the scum of the earth follows you around like a shadow.Â
Will Sungchan be ok? But you also canât help but wonder if you will be as well, at least at some point. You deserve to know no happiness, because you hurt one of the most amazing guys youâve ever met, and for what? For sneaking around and playing house with the man you once thought you hated?
Oh, and Haechan. What are you supposed to do now? Go on happily with your life with Haechan after breaking another man's heart? What even were you thinking? What are you supposed to tell Haechan now? That you want to be with him and act as if you didnât just exit a relationship?Â
The thought somehow repulses you, because you know youâve been selfish up to today â giving into your pleasures after feeling lonely, liking Haechanâs attention, developing feelings for him. Thatâs right, developing feelings for Haechan seems an insane thing to do or even think about. But it happened, you realise it now that you somehow put an end to your relationship with Sungchan, and the fact that someone had to suffer just so you could feel a bit better about what you were doing â by postponing the inevitable talk â only makes you think that you have to be punished somehow, for the way you played around with peopleâs feelings.
Are you supposed to live your life as Haechanâs girlfriend now? Freshly out of another relationship? Yet thereâs a thought looming over your head like a dark cloud. What if you just played yourself? What if this was never meant to be something genuine, what if it was just Haechanâs sick and twisted way of showing you that he always wins and always gets everything he wants?
You canât stand the thought of it. And thereâs only one solution to alleviate at least a bit of all your worries and the guilt youâre feeling like itâs eating at your chest from the inside.
The football field is loud as you see Haechanâs team running around during their practice, and somehow he sees you as soon as you set foot into the lightened side of the bleachers.Â
Itâs cold outside, you see their breaths in the air as they exhale, and you still canât understand why this sport exists. You put your nose down, covering it with your scarf, and you see Haechanâs fluffy hair bouncing around as he runs towards you, after telling everyone to take a break.Â
Heâs certainly surprised to see you here, because everyone needs to be under the impression he doesnât even exist and you donât know anything about his existence â or so youâve told him before. But youâre here, and besides the initial excitement he felt when he saw you coming to one of his practice games, Haechanâs stomach now drops instantly to his ass when he notices you cried.
Panic sets into his bones when he gets closer to you, and your beautiful eyes are bloodshot, youâre literally trembling as youâre sitting on the bleachers, nose and chin deep into your fluffy red scarf, but you feel off. He knows it, he doesnât need to ask you if anythingâs wrong, because he already knows youâre not feeling like yourself right now.
âWhatâs wrong,â He rasps worriedly as soon as he reaches you, and you donât bother moving from your spot on the seat. Heâs standing in front of you, seemingly patient, but heâs literally boiling on the inside.
You raise your chin, so he can hear you clearly, âI told Sungchan,â You mumble, and your bottom lip quivers, making his heart break for you.Â
Are you crying because he hurt you? Did Sungchan tell you hurtful things? Is this the cause of all the distress youâre feeling right now?
âOh,â Haechan mumbles in understanding, and he fights the urge to ask anything because he knows he might anger you with his irreparable humour.Â
âYeah⌠oh,â you repeat after him, voice heavy with emotion. Haechan never wanted to see you cry, he never wanted for anything of what youâve been doing to lead to any of this.
In his defence, he warned you. You should have put a stop to your relationship with Sungchan a while ago, when things werenât as complicated and entangled as they are now.
âIs he⌠is he okay?â Haechan doesnât really care, but he sees how affected you are, so he thinks things might have been bad and heavy while you talked to your now ex-boyfriend.Â
Or is he not your ex boyfriend? Haechanâs stomach drops at the thought of this being a possibility.
You shrug, exhaling a shaky breath.Â
Haechan isnât one compatible with anxiety, the term isnât even part of his vocabulary. But right now Haechan feels anxious as hell, and his leg starts bouncing â not from the cold outside, rather from the cold feeling settling through his bones at all the thoughts racing inside his head.
âThen⌠whatâs wrong?â He tries once more, and you finally break.
âYou donât understand!â You have a sudden burst, getting to your feet in a millisecond, âWe ruined everything, and you still donât understand!â
Haechan doesnât understand, indeed.Â
âI was happy, you were just someone I couldnât stand, and I was in a happy relationship with my boyfriend. And then you ruined everything,â you cry, trying to keep your voice down.
Haechan canât believe what heâs hearing. Are you accusing him of ruining your life â and consequently Sungchanâs as well?
He scoffs, no shadow of any smirk or grin on his face, âIt takes two to tango, Y/n!â He bursts as well, tone impatient, âAre you blaming it on me? After the last months spent together?â Heâs in disbelief, and the look in his eyes is a raging one, nostrils flaring trying to even his breathing.
âWe are both equally responsible for it,â you nod, knowing that itâs the truth, âBut it was a mistake, and Iâll pay for it for the remainder of my days here at this campus,â
âWhat the fuck are you implying right now?â He barks, trying to get closer to you, yet you move out of reach, away from the bleachers.
âThis,â you move your hand between your figure and his, âShouldnât have happened! What the fuck were we even thinking?â You ask, but it sound more like a monologue, to which heâs only a spectator.
But Haechanâs chest feels heavy all of a sudden, because he knows you. He knows who you are, what and how you are, what goes on inside your mind at all times, and this moment doesnât look good to him.Â
It all becomes more real when he sees you taking a few steps back, and he feels like his heart is ready to lurch out of his chest.
He shakes his head, âWhatever it is you think itâs the best choice right now, it really isnât, Y/n,â he tries, but you shake your head at him, not wanting to hear a word of it, âItâs not the best choice for us right now,â
âThere is no us! How can you even think that there can ever be?â You cry once again, tears staining your cheeks, already red from the cold.
âDonât,â he warns, trying to stop you by walking towards you, and you take a few steps back.
âRemember what you said to me? No one has to know. Letâs just keep it this way,â You walk away, but Haechan stays still, too in shock to even process what just happened.
Tonight, you broke up with him as well, and you werenât even together â and the fact that Haechan has absolutely no idea why you did it is making him want to hurl.
âY/n!â He screams after you, but your feet are quick to take you as far away from his as possible.Â
Haechanâs stomach feels funny, like itâs boiling over, and he bends down a second before hurling. He canât believe what just happened, and everything feels too hard to digest right now â but one thing is certain, Haechan feels like he might hurl his heart out next.
For the remainder of the time before your Christmas break, you spend your time laying low. In and out of lectures, you skip the one you share with Haechan. You skip the place where you know Sungchan spends his time, and if thereâs even remotely the slightest of hints that heâs around, you pack your things and go.
Sungchan never approached you, and to be completely honest and true to yourself, you donât feel like much has changed in your life. With him being away all the time even when you were together, sometimes only speaking on the phone and through texts, you feel like only that small part has changed now that itâs completely lacking.Â
Thereâs still the burden you have to carry around with yourself â the thought that you played with Sungchan and behaved like an idiot. Nothing is ever going to fix this, the anxiety youâre feeling when you see or hear something about him around campus. The shame, the guilt, the sleepless nights spent being haunted by the last conversation you had with him.
And thereâs Haechan, and the thought of him devastates you, because you know you got used to life with him and now you have absolutely no one left to rely on, or be with. You lost Sungchan to the role of President of the student body but it wasnât always like this â yet as he advanced through the years of study, his responsibilities only grew and so did whatever was demanded of him. The last year in this position is what stole him away from you, and you found yourself to be lonelier than ever without even realising it in the first place.
And then you lost Haechan to the unbearable feeling of betrayal you felt, only that the one betraying was you and no one else. You betrayed Sungchan and that was the worst you could have done to someone you claimed you loved â and worst thing of all, you did it with Haechan.
Haechan made you feel like you were reborn. Besides the initial bickering that subsided as you and him started seeing each other more regularly, you felt seen and appreciated, and youâd go as far as to say that you felt loved.
Crazy, you think to yourself, but thatâs genuinely what you felt. He drove you insane, literally. Between always getting down and busy and get you into bed, putting your pleasure first absolutely every single time, he spent time with you â seeing you, supporting you, being there for you.Â
But thatâs also out the window, because you refuse to open up to him about your expectations and how you felt about him â in fear of being seen as silly, stupid even.
You wish you could tell if everything you went through with Haechan has been genuine, but there really isnât a way to tell it. You know it has been, at least from your part, but who can vouch for him? Heâs never really liked Sungchan, and he loved riling you up at any given opportunity, so what if he just wanted to prove a point?
Haechan tried crossing paths with you a few times, but you either changed directions, or you found friends you could talk around with. This way you knew he could never approach you to talk about absolutely anything.
Youâre sure that youâll mend, both in relation to what youâve done to Sungchan and to come to terms with the reality after going through the whole Haechan situation. You know youâll learn to forgive yourself one way or another, even if it might take time, even if youâre aware of the fact that no man can ever compare to Haechan.
Heâs turned your world upside down, heâs made it a mess. Every bit of integrity and everything you believed in destroyed by a simple scoff and plump lips pouting and reaching for yours.
Youâll be fine. Youâll have to be.
Keeping to yourself in your secluded spot at the library has become your salvation, besides the comfort of your dorms. No one can ever find you here, no one besides Sungchan, because he used to hide here with you all the time whenever he felt overwhelmed by his duties.
And you flinch when you feel someone setting a backpack on your table, right in front of you. You raise your eyes, and your heart nearly stops when you see Sungchan standing right at the opposite end of the table.Â
âYou look like you havenât slept in a while,â he whispers, sparkly eyes scanning your face,
You show him a small smile that doesnât reach your eyes, âThatâs because I havenât slept in a while,â You confirm.
He bites on his bottom lip, and he touches one of the chairs, âCan I sit down with you?â
You nod, and you take a good look at him. Tall, tidy, handsome as ever, wearing one of the sweaters you got him for Christmas your first year of dating each other.Â
âDid he fuck up already?â He asks you, and you furrow your eyebrows, not understanding whoâs he talking about. âHaechan,â he clarifies for you to understand, and your lips form an âohâ of understanding.
âI have no idea what heâs doing, but knowing him youâre probably right. He must have fucked up someway,â you gulp, not knowing what you should say to your ex boyfriend, about the guy you cheated on him with.Â
âHeâs fucking up in a lot of ways,â he plays with his bottom lip, âHeâs fucking up the team, heâs fucking up his reputation, heâs fucking up your relationship,â everything Sungchan says feels like a big question mark, but especially the last part.
âOur relationship? Thereâs no relationship,â you shake your head, confused, âI actually want to give you a proper apology about everything,â
He stops you before you can continue, âI actually want to give you a proper apology, myself,â
You look at him confused, but he goes on before you can ask him anything, âI realised that I kept you hostage in a relationship that didnât work out. I know you were unhappy, I realised this after you left that night and I came to terms with the fact that it was my fault in the first place,â he explains, looking you straight into the eyes.
You gulp, and thereâs a splitting headache taking over you.
He clears his throat, âI should have set you free instead of keeping you in a relationship that didnât feel as rewarding as our first year and a half together. Iâm so sorry for being selfish and overlooking your needs,âÂ
You canât believe your ears. You should be the one apologising right now, instead heâs here doing it and basically understanding you and why you did it? Youâre in utter disbelief.
âStill, that doesnât change the fact that I betrayed your trust,â you whisper, almost on the verge of tears.
âThatâs right,â he concludes, completely agreeing with you, âBut Iâm here saying that I wasnât the best boyfriend either, so Iâm choosing to give you the benefit of the doubt. It took me a while to understand this, thatâs why Iâm here only now,â
Your eyes brim with tears while looking at him, at his composed self, and the little smile heâs throwing your way just so he can reassure you. Your heart breaks once again realising what you have lost with him, or what you never actually had to the fullest.
âYou said no relationship?â He asks confused, and it doesnât click right away that heâs talking about Haechan, âIs this why I saw him around campus wearing flip flops through the snow?â He asks curiously, throwing a thumb behind his shoulder to indicate the campus, âIs this why heâs acting this way?âÂ
âWhat way?â Youâre not sure what heâs expecting from you. You really havenât kept up with Haechan ever since you left him behind on the football field a while ago.
âHeâs destroying the team and universityâs reputation. He doesnât go to practice, doesnât show up for important stuff⌠I think I have a few students complaining about his behaviour around campus too,â he explains, and he seems surprised seeing how you donât know any of this.Â
You seem to have done a perfect job at protecting your peace.Â
âNa Jaemin called me earlier, telling me Haechan is refusing to play today, and the disciplinary committee is sitting in the bleachers,â He just keeps going, and youâre sure that if you let him, heâll have a dozen other things to add to the list of problematic things Haechan has done lately.
âThat canât be good,â you mumble worriedly, and he nods at you.
âIt isnât. Trust me. Thatâs another reason why Iâm here now,â he sees you cocking a brow, so he goes on, âI know youâre the one who can make him get back on track. Go get him,â and the moment he sees you looking at him like heâs kidding, he snaps his fingers a few times, âGo, Y/n!â
You jump to your feet, trying to pack all your stuffs, and Sungchanâs hand slaps yours, âIâll take these for you and Iâll come see the game. Iâll see you there,â he grabs you by the arms, manhandling you and pushing you away towards the libraryâs exit, âAnd please tell that fucker I placed good money betting heâll win, so heâd better not let me down,âÂ
âWhat?â You bark, outraged, totally forgetting where you are right now and the fact that you need to keep it down, âYou bet on him? Money?â
Sungchan rolls his eyes at you, âGo!âÂ
And you sprint away, leaving Sungchan to deal with a wave of shushes coming from everyone sitting quietly in the library, and with your things.
Your heart is racing, mostly after finding a gram of piece after seeing Sungchan and talking to him, but also because you know what your destination is. Now thereâs only one more person you have to talk to.
You reach the locker room in record time, and honestly you donât even know how you made it seem physically possible to run all the way over here in such short time. You open the door to the locker room, and the atmosphere feels heavy.Â
You recognise the team, you look around the room to see Haechanâs friend and roommate, Na Jaemin â and he jumps to his feet to reach you, dragging you just outside.Â
âI could honestly kiss you right now,â he tells you, eyes big as saucers.
âIâd rather you didnât do that,â you warn him, looking up at him. Youâve always had a suspicion that Jaemin knew what was going on behind closed doors between you and Haechan, but he never made comments.Â
âIâm scared shitless, Y/n, please do something,â he shakes you by the arms, and you nod, pointing your head at the door to the locker room, signalling him to open it for you.
He does it in a millisecond, pulling it wide open, âEveryone get out, now!â He rasps, his voice echoing throughout the otherwise silent room, and everyone obeys.
You go in, inspecting the place. You suppose heâs here somewhere, and then your eyes look for the familiar medical bed you and Haechan put to use a few times after his practice, sneaking around.
And there he is, sitting on his side, his back facing you, not even realising youâre there with him. You pull up next to the bed, shaking him, and he snatches his arm right out of your grasp as soon as you try to get his attention on you.
âHaechan!â You warn, pinching him, and he lets out a whine of pain before turning around to look at you.
âWhat- How?â He asks confused, turning his body so he can face you. âWhat are you doing here?âÂ
âWhat are you doing here?â You accentuate the word, âWhat the fuck is wrong with you? Fucking around with your reputation as well as the teamâs?â
He shrugs, looking up at you, âI donât care. I donât care about anything anymore,âÂ
You slap his chest, âOh my god stop whining, you sound so depressing!â
âI am depressed!â He fights back, lips pouting, âI shouldnât even be here right now, but Jaemin did scare me into getting into his carâŚâ
The implication of Jaemin scaring the man that cannot be scared of or threatened by anything is making you fight back a snort.Â
âWhy are you depressed? You have it all, and the disciplinary committee is also attending,â you explain like heâs five years old.
âI donât have it all!â He sits up, raising his voice with a whine, âI donât have you! And I want you! Iâve wanted you from the very beginning and you just ended up with Slanderman himself!â
âHey!â You retort, pinching him once again, âBe nice! I wouldnât be here to tell you that I love you if it werenât for him,â
âOh my god, you met up with him before me? Just kill me now,â he whines, throwing himself back down onto the bed. It takes him a few seconds to go through the words you spoke, now echoing in his head.
He pushes right up, blinking at you. You blink right back at him a few times, and his gaze doesnât falter, instead thereâs a sparkle settling in.
âDo you mean it?â He sits on the edge of the bed, and you get closer to his figure.
You peck his lips, âI mean it, and we should have a proper conversation later,â you peck his lips again, this time moving to pepper some kisses in the corner of his mouth as well, âBut Sungchan told me to let you know he bet serious money on you losing tonight, so wouldnât it be nice to show him heâs wrong?â
Haechanâs lips are immediately on yours, yet you donât fight back. The moment you saw him pouting with despair you knew you wanted to kiss him. He holds you still by placing his hands on both sides of your face, and you give into his pace, rhythm â his hunger making the kiss incredibly messy and desperate.Â
âDonât talk dirty like that, my dick is getting hard as we speak,â He jumps off the bed after letting you go.Â
Your chest blooms with pride after lying to him, remembering how Sungchan placed a bet on Haechan winning, but you know that twisting it a bit to make your own version would have stirred the ever so competitive Haechan to prove Sungchan wrong â and youâre extremely happy, even if youâll have to tell him the truth later after the game.
Haechan gets ready at the speed of lightning, while also stealing quick kisses from you. Pecks all over your face, neck, playfully pulling at you hoodie, everything he can do while still getting ready to go out on the field on time.
And eventually he joins the game, and of course the Lee Haechan wins â but because he has something, or someone to fight for.Â
His ego is big, his chest blooms with pride because he knows what heâs capable of. And Lee Haechan can proudly claim he does have it all right now â because he has you, yet everyone should still feel threatened by him.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: to everyone who read who is it... im sorry it had to be sungchan once again </3333 this fic was supposed to be up around his birthday and i couldn't allow it (ââ¸â,) i want to thank my sam @taeeflwrr for helping and putting up with me and my endless talks about this series and the songs chosen (ily!) but also for making the banner for this fic! <3<3<3 and thank you to everyone who read, i appreciate and love every single one of you! i hope you enjoyed and i'll see you for the next one ŕťę°ŕžŕ˝˛ËśËáşËËś ęąŕžŕ˝˛á
i actually read this a few? weeks ago and took me days to finish ONLY because of my stupid work but good god did this make me think about it TO THIS DAY. ok. no matter the reason CHEATING IS CHEATING. but boy are they meant to be together they're so annoying yet!!!! adorable please. please please haechan here just makes me feel all sorts of things. this is actually worth the read and i'm definitely reading it again soon hopefully in one sitting i NEED it maybe just in time for the next story to come out not that it's connected lmao okay OP ILYSM FOR THIS FOOD
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A friendship canât be ruined by having sex⌠can it?
âšââ pairing: best friend!haechan x fem!reader x love interest!jaehyun (slight)
âšââ warnings: angst, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers trope, protected sex, unprotected sex (use protection pls), fingering, making out, nudes, slowburn, suggestive redaction, mild cursing, reader is a virgin lol, haechan isn't, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance.
âšââwc: 18,3K
READ THE PREVIEW [HERE]
Two weeks later
haechan sighed again, his chest heavy as he collapsed onto the couch. With both hands, he covered his face, fingers digging into his skin, trying to block out the past two weeks.
hyuck didnât understand why there was this twisted mess of emotions swirling in his stomach, why his thoughts were so scattered, a jumble of "what ifs" and "should I's".
it had been two weeks since you made that insane proposition to him. haechan hadnât talked much since then, just the occasional texts letting each other know when theyâd left or entered the building they both lived in. the topic hadnât come up, and you hadnât pressured him either. but, god, it haunted him.
it was unthinkable. his values just wouldnât allow it. sleeping with his best friend? never crossed his mind. but youâyou werenât just anyone. youâd been inseparable since high school. your sense of humor matched perfectly, and everyone knew the two of you were a damn force together. their friends noticed the bond, the way they both seemed to fit like puzzle pieces, always there for each other, even when they fought. like siblings, but with none of the blood ties.
that word, "siblings"âit made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was strange that others saw them two like that. but they were okay with it. there were boundaries in their relationship, and crossing them was unforgivable.
of course, you were angelic. your bubbly personality and constant jokes made you irresistible. physically, you were gorgeous, though you were a bit shorter than himâway too short, maybe. you had black hair and an odd but cute bangs just above your eyebrows, something he liked to tease you about.
and yeah, youâd catch anyoneâs eye. he wasnât gonna lieâheâd had a crush on you when he first met you in high school. but over time, that romantic attraction faded as your friendship grew stronger.
maybe it was also the way you were so open with your thoughtsâno filter, no shameâthat when you asked him about sleeping together, it sounded completely natural to you. to him, though? It was a punch to the gut, a cold shower, a slap to the face. he was spinning, disoriented, trapped in what felt like a twisted fantasyâor maybe a nightmare.
for him, sex wasnât a taboo subject. heâd lost his virginity at 17 to one of his many girlfriends, and talking about it was casual. hell, haechan didnât even hold back when discussing the details of his past experiences with you. heâd even described how heâd "done it" in vivid detailâlike it was nothing.
but you? you were different. you had dated three guys since high school, but none of those relationships lasted more than two months. so, you didnât exactly know what it was like to be in a serious, long-term relationship. snd sex? It didnât seem like a necessity in your lifeâat least not until now.
âI mean, when youâre dating someone romantically and nothing happens, iâd call that a win,â you said, casually munching on a slice of lemon tart.
haechan furrowed his brows, taking a sip of his coffee. âexplain that.â
âitâs simple,â you shrugged. âbecause if they havenât seen you naked, you can run into them on the street and not have to worry about that bastard seeing your ass.â
heck couldnât help but laugh at your reasoning. âright, totally.â
you both chuckled, agreeing on that one. but he also knew, deep down, it wasnât that simple for him. not anymore. he couldnât ignore what was bubbling beneath the surface.
haechan felt a buzz in his pocket. his phone. the first class of the day was about to start, and he had to rush if he didnât want to be late. he lived close to campus, just a five-minute walk, but the class was on the other side of the building.
but this situation? it was messing with his head so much that he couldnât fall asleep until 3 AM these past two weeks. he grabbed his backpack and keys, about to head out when his phone buzzed again.
it was you. a message: âiâm heading to class, just leaving my apartment.â
haechan froze. he hadnât expected you to text him now. his hand gripped the doorknob, but he didnât open it. the thought of seeing you right now made his heart race. he wasnât ready. not yet. he couldnât just pretend like everything was fine.
"shit... y/n, what were you thinking?"
he sighed deeply. what was this? haechan could hear his own voice in his head, his thoughts like an endless storm. he couldnât stop thinking about youâabout what you had said, and about everything that had changed in such a short time. his stomach twisted. what would happen if he saw you now? could he face you? could he even be the same around you after what you had suggested?
he shook his head, hoping to clear his thoughts. He didnât have the answers, but he knew one thing: this wasnât going to be easy.
haechan let out a deep sigh, adjusting his scarf around his neck before stepping out of his apartment. he tried to calm himself, convincing himself that he could handle whatever came next. as if nothing had happened. as if he could just brush it off and pretend it hadnât been weighing on him for the past two weeks.
but every time he thought about it, it made his chest tighten. that proposal of yours. the way you had looked at him, so casually, as if it were no big deal. he couldnât get it out of his mind. he had always been the life of the party, the one to make jokes and laugh things off. but thisâthis was different. it gnawed at him like an insistent itch he couldnât scratch, a question with no answer.
he made his way to campus, each step seeming faster than the last, but his thoughts were tangled in a mess of confusion and frustration. you hadnât seemed bothered. if anything, you had acted like it was just another conversation. you hadnât even tried to talk to him about it again, hadnât pressured him. but that only made it worse. the silence between you both was deafening. you had sent that message, but it wasnât the same. it was as if you had moved on without even thinking about it, while he was still stuck in the same place, drowning in his thoughts.
it was absurd. he was known for being the carefree one, the one who didnât let anything get to him. but now? now he was a mess. the more he tried to convince himself that it was no big deal, the harder it was to believe it. you had said it so easily, like it was a joke, and yet it had shattered something inside him. the truth was, he didnât know how to look at you anymore. he didnât know how to face you after that. how could he? after everything?
haechan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. his footsteps carried him toward the building, and the closer he got, the more his anxiety grew. he couldnât avoid it forever. heâd have to see you eventually. the communication department wasnât that big, and it seemed like the entire campus would lead him straight to you.
as he reached the entrance of the building, his alert system kicked in. you were probably inside already. and damn it, the thought of running into youânow, after everythingâfelt like a punch in the gut. you hadnât even mentioned it again, hadnât tried to force a conversation. yet he could feel it. the tension. the distance. how had it gotten to this? why did he feel so⌠disconnected?
he stopped for a second, hand resting against the doorframe, trying to breathe. but it was like everything had changed. nothing was simple anymore. he had been your best friend for so long, but now? now it felt like he was walking on eggshells, unsure of what would break first.
âhey.â
a light punch to his back snapped him out of his daze, and the blood immediately drained from his face. that voiceâhe couldnât mistake it, not even if a million voices tried to mimic it. His breath hitched, and he turned around so fast it almost hurt.
there you were. small, as always. a knitted beanie sitting snug over your head, thatâ ridiculousâfringe barely brushing the tops of your brows, framing your delicate face in a way that made his throat dry. a long grey coat hung from your shoulders, swallowing you slightly, and your black boots clicked softly against the floor. everything about you looked⌠normal. the way you looked at him, the way you smiled, even the casual punch to his back.
physical contact.
that word echoed in his head like a siren. he quickly shook the thought away, locking his focus on the paper Starbucks bag dangling from your left hand. maybe youâd stopped by the cafĂŠ on the way. maybe you ordered delivery. maybe someone gave it to you. maybeâgod, he needed to stop. the hamster in his brain was doing flips, and he wanted to knock some sense into himself.
you held the bag out toward him.
haechan just stared at it for a second, until you raised your eyebrows, shook it again, and snapped, âare you gonna take it or what?! geez, i brought it for you and youâre just standing there looking at it like an idiot.â
your expression twisted in mock annoyance, brows curved upwardâbut oddly, he felt the tightness in his chest ease a little.
reluctantly, haechan reached out and took the bag, brushing his fingers against yours for a second too long. he tried not to react, but his mind was a chaotic storm. He couldnât help but look at youâreally look.
had you always looked like this? that coat hugged your waist just enough. the shape of your figure was something he never let himself notice before. and your chest⌠jesus. it wasnât like youâd suddenly changed, but it felt like someone had wiped the fog off his glasses. He was seeing you differently. entirely.
and that terrified him.
he lowered his eyes quickly, too aware of how warm his ears were getting.
âthanks,â he mumbled, voice a little hoarse.
âno problem,â you replied, glancing around casually. âi figured you might skip breakfast again, soâŚâ
you trailed off with a small shrug, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets. haechan tried to smile, but his stomach was tangled in impossible knots.
haechan took another deep breath as he tried to collect himself, shifting the weight of the Starbucks bag from one hand to the other. he looked at you, trying to ignore the pull in his chestâthe sudden awareness of every little detail about you. there was a tension he couldnât shake off, something that sat heavy in his stomach.
you seemed to notice his distracted state and leaned against the wall, your usual easygoing posture, the same as always, except now, he couldnât stop noticing how you looked in that oversized coat and those boots. he was spiraling again, caught in the thought of you.
âsoâŚâ you broke the silence, âiâve been kind of swamped lately. working on this branding project for a client. itâs been a pain, though. my computer decided to die on me right when I needed it most.â
haechan raised an eyebrow, his mind snapping back to reality. âreally? you didnât tell me about it. why didnât you ask for help? I mean, i know a thing or two about fixing computers. I couldâve helped you.â
you shrugged, a small, nonchalant smile playing at the corners of your lips. ânah, i called taeyong instead. heâs better with that stuff.â
there was a sharp tug in haechanâs chest. he hadnât expected that. the knot in his stomach tightened, a wave of discomfort washing over him. taeyong? really?
he tried to laugh it off, but there was something bitter in his tone as he asked, âtaeyong? why him? i thought you knew I was good with that kind of stuff.â
âyeah, well,â you quipped with a raised eyebrow, âtaeyong just happened to be the first one I thought of. besides, heâs pretty quick with tech stuff.â
haechanâs smile was tight, and his stomach churned. he told himself it was nothing. he was being stupid. but why didnât you ask him? he had always been there when your tech failed. it felt⌠weird. almost like you didnât need him anymore. but, of course, he didnât voice any of that. instead, he played it off, trying to act casual.
âsure, sure,â he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. he was so not handling this well. the thought of you asking someone else for help left him unsettled, and he hated how much it bothered him. It was irrational, but he couldn't shake it.
you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he pulled back just a little. your smile softened as you leaned forward slightly, breaking the silence again.
âhey,â you said gently, âiâm sorry if it upset you. it wasnât meant to make you feel left out, really.â
haechan quickly looked up, trying to look unfazed. ânah, itâs fine. I mean, it's not like iâm the only one you can ask for help, right?â he joked, but there was an edge to his voice that didnât quite match the tone of his words.
you raised your eyebrows, a knowing look in your eyes. âyouâre acting like a total prude right now,â you said, a smirk forming. âdidnât you used to tell me all the crazy stuff you did with jang chanmi back in high school? and now the topic of helping a friend with a computer is freaking you out?â
haechan blinked, taken aback. the mention of chanmi, especially in the context of your teasing, was enough to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts. he groaned, running a hand through his hair, trying to laugh it off. âwell, that was different, okay? that was high school stuff.â
you chuckled, leaning back against the wall, clearly amused by his discomfort. âoh, come on. donât tell me youâre too shy to talk about tech problems now. you used to explain every position you tried with herâlike it was a lesson in geometry or something.â
haechan let out an exasperated sigh, not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful for the way you were managing to cut through the tension. he couldnât stop the blush creeping up his neck, and he cursed under his breath. of all the people, you had to be the one to make him feel like a damn fool.
âwell, that was different, okay? Itâs... itâs not like iâm comfortable talking about that stuff with you anymore, alright?â he almost winced at his words. the last thing he wanted was to make it sound like he couldnât be himself with you.
you tilted your head slightly, your tone playful but with a hint of mischief. âdonât worry, though. I just asked taeyong to help with the computer. i didnât make the same proposal to him that i made to you.â
haechanâs eyes went wide. he froze, his face instantly flushing. did you really just say that? the sudden wave of heat rushing to his face felt like he was on fire. his brain scrambled for words, but all he could manage was a surprised, âwait, what?â
you laughed softly, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him.
âyouâre scared iâm gonna bring it up, arenât you?â
âwhat? iâno, iâm fine,â he said too quickly, almost defensively. âjust tired. you know, early class. cold outside. normal stuff.â
you didnât say anything right away. just looked at him with that calm gaze of yours, the one that could read people like open books.
that hit him harder than expected. he flinched. swallowed. you tilted your head slightly.
âitâs okay,â you said, voice even. âif it made you uncomfortable⌠we donât have to talk about it. ever. iâm not gonna ambush you or corner you or expect anything.â
haechan blinked. your tone was so mature, so measuredâlike youâd thought about this. like you knew what it had done to him.
âit was dumb of me,â you continued with a small smile. âor maybe not dumb, just⌠bold. and i get it, you didnât sign up for that. so, if you want to forget it ever happened, consider it forgotten. clean slate.â
he didnât know what to say. a hundred emotions jostled in his chest, fighting for space. gratitude. relief. guilt. and something else entirelyâsomething heavier and harder to name.
because despite everything, despite the panic and confusion and awkward silences, you were still here. talking to him. offering him coffee. smiling at him like you always did.
but something had changed. he saw it in the way he noticed your lips when they moved. in the way his eyes lingered a beat too long on the curve of your body. in the way his mind kept circling back to that question youâd asked two weeks ago.
and the worst part?
haechan didnât know if he wanted to go back to before.
before everything had shifted. before he started noticing all these things about youâthings he had never allowed himself to see. he wasnât sure if it was fear of the unknown or something else entirely, but the thought of things returning to how they were felt⌠difficult.
âanyway,â you said, standing up from the railing and brushing your hands off as if to clear the air between you. "iâll see you later. donât overthink it, alright?"
the casual way you said it made his chest tighten. he could feel that something was still unspoken, that there was more you werenât saying, but he didnât press. you were good at hiding what you truly felt, always had been.
haechan tried to push the conversation out of his mind as he entered his class on media studies. he sat down, pulling his notes in front of him and attempting to focus, but his thoughts were all over the place. his brain kept circling back to your wordsâhad you meant everything you said? Was it really that simple for you?
the ice-cold americano youâd brought him sat on the edge of his desk. Its perfect arrangement, just the way he always liked it, made his chest tighten for reasons he couldnât explain. he watched as droplets of water gathered on the glass, slowly tracing their way down to pool at the bottom.
he was distracted. but even more than that, he was feeling something he couldnât quite name. his gaze wandered over the cold surface, the way the water clung to the glassâhis mind drifting to you. to your smile. to the way your voice had lingered in his thoughts.
he imagined, for a moment, what it would be like if those droplets were slipping along your skin instead. He didnât want to think about it, but his mind had other plans. every thought that surfaced seemed to lead back to youâthe curve of your lips, the way you had looked at him just before leaving.
his pulse quickened, a wave of heat rising to his face. he snapped back to reality, but the blush was already creeping up his neck. "what the hell am i doing?" he muttered under his breath, quickly looking down at his notes again, trying to focus. his mind refused to cooperate. why was he thinking about this now? why was his body reacting like this?
he could feel the tension rising, like a knot tightening in his stomach. he had never been this aware of you beforeânot like this. and the worst part was, he didnât know how to stop it.
you buried your face in your hands, heart racing, panic rising in your chest. what had you done?
the proposal you made to haechan wasnât randomânot by a long shot. It came from somewhere raw, impulsive, and aching. youâd convinced yourself he would say yes. no hesitation. no second thoughts. thatâs what your friends told you, right?
"guys are easy. especially when it comes to sex. theyâre always down," yeri had said with a laugh, trying to encourage you. âcome on, itâs haechan. he jokes about that stuff all the time.â
and maybe that was the worst part. because you believed her. you judged your best friend through a lens of assumption, reducing him to some stereotype, thinking heâd just say yes because he was a guy. because he was him.
but he didnât.
and now you knewâyou had judged him so, so wrong. haechan wasnât like the guys in those stories your friends always told. he wasnât thoughtless. he wasnât careless. he was kind. and considerate. and the look on his face after your question⌠you could still see it. confused. hurt. maybe even disappointed. not because you asked, but because he didnât know how to respond without breaking something between you.
the guilt clawed its way up your throat.
you hadnât asked him just for the sake of it, either. it wasnât some random experiment. it was desperation. because ever since last fall, ever since he came into the picture, something in you had changed.
jung jaehyun.
a senior in the visual arts department. tall, graceful, and unfairly good-lookingâlike heâd walked straight out of a perfume ad in a fashion magazine. chiseled jawline, smooth voice, perfect smile. the kind of man who turned heads in every hallway he walked through. girls whispered about him constantlyârumors, fantasies, stories that may or may not have been true. he was confident, magnetic, dangerous in that way only people who know theyâre desired can be.
and of course, you werenât immune.
you saw him at a few parties, caught glimpses of him sketching in the studio, his sleeves rolled up and headphones in, and felt a pull you didnât fully understand. it wasnât love. It wasnât even a crush. it was curiosity. lust. a hunger you didnât recognize as your own until it became too loud to ignore.
your friends told you to go for it. "just hook up with him," they said. "get it over with." but you couldnât. you didnât have the experience, the confidence, theâŚÂ proof that you could be the kind of girl someone like jaehyun might want.
so you turned to the only person you trusted. the only one who made you feel safe, unjudged, seen.
haechan.
and now youâd hurt him.
you hadnât just crossed a lineâyouâd shattered the trust heâd always given you so freely. all because you were afraid. because you wanted to prove something. because you thought heâd just say yes.
but he didnât.
now you sat in the middle of your typography and composition class, surrounded by the soft clatter of keyboards and the low hum of your professorâs lecture, your laptop open in front of you and your adobe illustrator file untouched. letters floated on your screen in random positions, but your brain couldnât form a single coherent thought. you werenât even sure what the assignment was supposed to be.
your body was thereâbut your mind was somewhere else entirely. caught in the swirl of embarrassment, regret, and confusion. a storm of emotion you didnât know how to calm. all you could think was:Â what have I done?
it had been a week since that conversation. on the surface, everything seemed fineâlike a reset button had been pressed. you and haechan still exchanged jokes, shared snacks, and sat next to each other in class. but underneath the laughter and casual glances, there was a strange hollowness, like the two of you had become actors reciting old lines in a play that didnât fit anymore. robotically pretending the elephant in the room didnât exist, even though its shadow loomed over every interaction. after all, everything had already been said, hadnât it?
still, something was off.
haechan hadnât hooked up with anyone since then. it wasnât for lack of tryingâheâd gone out, flirted, dancedâbut each time, his mind wandered back to you. and it wasnât just idle thoughts. no, it was worse.
every night that week, he'd woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart racing, and a painful hardness straining against his boxers. dreams of youâwearing almost nothing, bent in suggestive positions, whispering filthy things in his ear, inviting him to taste you, to touch youâplayed on a loop in his subconscious. but right when he was about to finally reach you, melt into you, heâd wake up frustrated and breathless. left with no choice but to slip his hand under the waistband and relieve the aching pressure. for serotonin. for oxytocin. for sanity.
now, it was saturday night and he was stuck at work.
the burger place was dead quiet. maybe it was the cold snap that had settled over the city, keeping everyone snuggled up in their homes instead of venturing out for greasy fast food. Haechan didnât mind, really. he was sick of putting on his fake retail voiceââwelcome! Fries with that?ââand dealing with people who didnât say thank you. right now, he was working the closing shift, wearing the stiff black uniform cap and flipping patties that hissed on the flat top grill. the whole place smelled of grilled beef, fryer oil, and cheap pickles. his coworkers were goofing off while mopping the floor and stacking chairs, and haechan, while half-listening to their jokes, was just counting the minutes till he could clock out and go back to bed.
that was when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
unknown number.
haechan hesitated. he barely ever answered unknown numbers, but something in his gut told him to pick up.
âhello?â
âHAECHAN!â
a girlâs voice. loud, panicked. He blinked.
ââŚwho is this?â
âitâs seojungây/nâs friend. you probably donât remember me. we met, like, once.â
oh. right. you had sent him the numbers of your friends months ago, just in case. heâd never saved them.
âyeah, uhâwhatâs up?â
âitâs y/n,â she said quickly.
the emergency button in his brain went off.
âwhat happened? is she okay?! did something happen to her?â
âwellâkind of?â
apparently, youâd gone out for a girlsâ night. a little bar in the city downtown. everything was fine, until youâd gotten verydrunk. so drunk, in fact, you couldnât even hold your head up, slurring nonsense, sobbing into seojungâs shoulder.
haechan grabbed his jacket before she even finished explaining.
âshe kept saying⌠uh, really weird stuff,â seojung added nervously. âlikeâplease donât be mad, okay?âbut she was screaming in the middle of the street that she was gonna die a virgin because her own best friend refused to help her.â
haechan stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in disbelief. âshe said what?â
âi know! i was like, girl, stop embarrassing yourself! but she kept going. she even tried to climb on a statue to do a dramatic monologue or something, it was chaos.â
the line went quiet for a second.
âanyway,â seojung continued, âwe canât take her to the dormsâthey donât let us bring people in after curfew, and sheâs way too far gone to be alone. youâre the only person she might listen to. can you come get her?â
âiâm on my way,â haechan said without hesitation, already sprinting out the back door. he didnât even clock out. his coworkers just watched in stunned silence as he bolted into the freezing night air, hoodie half-zipped, hair disheveled, heart pounding.
he didnât know exactly what heâd find when he got there.
but part of him was already bracing for it.
despite the cold weather, you had decided to wear a short velvet dress, sheer black tights, and an oversized puffer jacket that looked hilariously disproportionate on youâbut also kind of cute. haechan blinked twice when he realized the jacket was his. the one heâd been looking for since last week. seeing you in it made his chest do something strange, tight and warm, like a coil winding in his ribs.
you looked disoriented, your makeup slightly smudged, your eyes glassy but still sparkly. your long legs peeked out from under the hem of the dress, knees wobbling as you leaned heavily on seojung for support. Behind her were yeri and jiminâboth trying to look casual but clearly avoiding haechanâs gaze.
âsorry for calling so suddenly,â seojung said with an awkward smile, shifting nervously on her feet. âwe didnât know who else to callâŚâ
âshe just kept saying your name,â yeri added, crossing her arms.
âsheâs been⌠emotional,â jimin muttered, eyes darting to the side. âalsoâsorry for⌠earlier stuff.â
the three girls looked anywhere but at haechan. there was something stiff in the air, a subtle frost behind their polite words. they knew what had happened. they knew heâd rejected you.
âthanks for looking after her,â haechan said simply, ignoring the tension as he gently took your arm. you mumbled something about âfuck friendshipâ and âiâll die a virgin anyway,â making all three girls wince in embarrassment.
after quick goodbyes, they left hurriedly. haechan helped you into a cab, the inside warm and dimly lit, smelling faintly of peppermint and old leather.
âaddress?â the driver asked.
haechan rattled it off. the driver glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled.
âcute couple,â he said.
âohâweâre notââ haechan began, but the man cut him off.
âyoung love. must be nice,â he chuckled. âleaving work in the middle of your shift to take care of your drunk girlfriend. thatâs real devotion, son.â
haechan opened his mouth to correct him again, but thenâ
âHE REJECTED ME!â you suddenly shouted, head lolling dramatically to the side. âI asked him to have sex with me and he SAID NO.â
yhe cab fell into a stunned silence.
ââŚah,â the driver finally said. âone-sided love, then.â
haechan wanted to crawl out of the moving car and disappear into the road. yhe driver shook his head sympathetically.
âyouâre making a mistake, boy,â he said gravely. âa pretty lady like this? she wonât wait forever. you two already look like a couple. all thatâs missing is the kiss.â
haechan glanced down at you, now slumped against his side, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. your makeup was a mess, your breath reeked of gin and lime, and you were clutching the hem of his jacket like it was your last lifeline.
and somehow, even like this, you looked heartbreakingly beautiful.
haechan stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver, the man's words echoing in his head like a song stuck on repeat. âyouâre letting a good girl slip awayâŚâ he shouldnât care what some stranger thought, but there was something about the way the guy said it â confident, certain â that made the sentence stick like honey to the roof of his mouth.
he turned around just in time to see you stepping out of the cab in your short dress, sheer tights hugging your legs, and a massive oversized jacket drowning your frame. his oversized jacket.
his breath caught a little. you looked both sexy and soft â long, graceful legs out in the cold, but your face flushed from alcohol and framed by the collar of his jacket. somehow, even in that state, you looked... perfect.
âyou know where we are, right?â he asked gently, offering you his hand.
you nodded lazily, squinting at the familiar entrance of your apartment complex. but instead of walking toward it, you turned to him, a sly, sleepy smile playing on your lips.
âi donât wanna go to my apartment,â you said, voice low and vaguely suggestive.
haechan blinked. âyou need to sleep. youâre drunk.â
âi donât wanna go to my apartment,â you repeated, this time slower, like you were daring him to challenge you. âi lost my keys.â
âyou what?â his voice cracked as he stared at you in disbelief. âwhere the hell are you gonna sleep then?â
you tilted your head, your eyes glinting under the streetlight. âwith you.â
silence.
haechanâs mouth opened slightly, the color rushing to his face like fire. he stammered, trying to find the words â to remind you of your promise, of how you said you'd drop this whole thing and start over.
but before he could say a word, you leaned forward with a groan and threw up directly into a nearby bush.
âoh, shitââ he muttered, rushing to hold you. he gathered your hair, gently rubbed your back, whispering reassurances under his breath. âokay, okay, itâs fine⌠just let it outâŚâ
eventually, you straightened up, eyes glassy, cheeks damp from the cold wind. he sighed and wrapped an arm around you, leading you toward his place â your weight half-slumped against him.
inside, the warmth of his small apartment wrapped around you both. he carefully sat you on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, filling a glass of water and setting a tea kettle on the stove.
you watched him in silence for a moment before breaking it. âi know what i said,â you murmured. âAbout letting it go. About forgetting. but i canât. i literally canât.â
he froze, slowly turning toward you.
âi feel like a hormonal teenager,â you laughed bitterly, wiping your mouth. âI keep thinking about you. about what i asked you. about what it would be like.â
ây/nâŚâ he warned gently, setting the water beside you.
âi have this thing,â you blurted. âwith my sunbae. jung jaehyun. heâs⌠god, heâs stupidly hot. tall, broad shoulders, perfect hair, every girl wants him. he only sleeps with older women â the kind who know what theyâre doing. and I just⌠i donât want to disappoint him.â
haechanâs expression darkened, not with anger, but something deeper. âso you wanted to use me as practice?â he asked, voice low.
âiâm not trying to use you,â you said, firm but vulnerable. âyouâre my best friend. i trust you more than anyone. and youâre⌠youâre good at it.â
haechan blinked. âwhat?â
âyouâre good in bed.â
he narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. âand how the hell do you know that?â
you gave a half-smirk. âyou talk about it all the time, remember? bragging about your conquests like a walking NSFW podcast. you made it sound like you practically invented foreplay.â
haechan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. âgod, I was joking half the timeââ
âbut thatâs exactly why i asked you in the first place,â you cut in, locking eyes with him. âbecause thereâs no one else iâd trust for something like this. and letâs be honestââ you tilted your head with a teasing smile. âitâs not like youâve gotten laid recently either.â
his jaw tensed. âiâm not desperate for sex, y/n.â
âoh, really?â you raised an eyebrow. âso those midnight jerk-off sessions because of your dreams about me are just⌠what? a new coping mechanism?â
his face burned red. âhow do youâ?!â
âi may have heard a little something.â you sipped your water dramatically. âyouâre not as quiet as you think.â
âi hate you,â he muttered under his breath, turning away to hide the growing smirk on his lips.
âno, you donât.â
you stood up slowly, unsteady but serious, your eyes fixed on his. âif we did this⌠it would be safe. familiar. no weirdness. just⌠two people helping each other out.â
âthatâs not what this is about for you though, is it?â he said, voice low.
you looked away for a moment before answering. âno. Itâs not just that. i want to feel⌠wanted. i want to be good at this. and yeah⌠I want to impress jaehyun. but i also⌠want it to be with someone who wonât hurt me.â
and for a moment, everything was quiet. the only sound was the water boiling and both your hearts pounding.
he exhaled sharply, frustrated â but not just at you. At himself. At this whole ridiculous night.
then, haechan stepped closer.
he leaned over, hands gripping the back of the couch, caging you in â his face mere inches from yours. you froze. Your breath hitched. your fingers clenched around the glass.
then, without thinking, you kissed him.
it was messy. desperate. tasting of beer and heat and something reckless.
he kissed you back â just for a second â his hand cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. but then he pulled away suddenly, breath heavy, pupils blown wide.
âyouâre drunk,â he said, voice hoarse. âi'm not kissing you like this.â
you blinked up at him, breathless.
âbut if i werenât?â you whispered.
he didnât say anything.
but the fire in his eyes gave you all the answer you needed.
and that silence? it was louder than anything either of you had said all night.
that night, haechan slept on the couch, buried under a mess of blankets. you, on the other hand, took his bed â warm with freshly changed sheets and a white oversized t-shirt that smelled like him. heâd also lent you a hoodie for the cold, soft and worn from use.
when he asked if you'd prefer to sleep with the door shut for privacy, you shook your head and left it cracked open. Just slightly. maybe it was a silent invitation. maybe a part of you hoped he'd come in.
but he didnât.
haechan's self-control was ironclad. he wouldn't touch you â not like that, not when you were drunk, no matter how much you asked. and you had asked. desperately.
by morning, your head throbbed with a brutal hangover. the light leaking through the blinds was cruel and unforgiving. still half-asleep, you blinked at the side table â a glass of water and a neatly placed pill waited for you. of course he remembered.
you padded out into the living room, barefoot, limbs aching. the smell of warm broth hit you first. then the quiet hum of a streamer's voice coming from his computer.
haechan sat hunched at the small dining table, glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly tousled from sleep. he was watching some gaming livestream, lazily slurping noodles from a bowl of ramen. a small pot sat between you, steam still curling up, and beside it â another bowl.
you noticed the sausage in the pot had been sliced perfectly small, just the way you liked. he always remembered little things like that.
your stomach twisted, not with hunger, but something softer. deeper.
without saying anything, haechan patted the seat beside him. you moved toward him slowly, like you were walking through a dream. he didnât look at you â just kept his eyes on the screen as he grabbed the second bowl, carefully ladling ramen into it while glancing back and forth between the pot and your bowl to avoid making a mess.
you let out a quiet, involuntary giggle.
he glanced up at you then â his lips curved ever so slightly. and that's when you noticed it: his thick-rimmed glasses. the ones he only wore when he was deep into gaming or editing something late at night. they made him look effortlessly cool. casual. comfortable.
and stupidly handsome.
âthanks,â you murmured, your voice still hoarse from sleep and dehydration. âfor⌠last night. picking me up.â
he didnât respond at first â just nodded once, still watching the screen. no mention of the kiss. no mention of your drunken confession. nothing. just silence.
the elephant between you had never been bigger.
you glanced sideways again and noticed the dark circles under his eyes â deep and tired. heâd barely slept.
âyou okay?â you asked gently.
âiâm fine,â he said, pushing up his glasses with a knuckle. âyou had it worse.â
you looked down at the bowl in front of you, steam rising like it was trying to fill the silence. you slurped a noodle quietly, chewing.
thatâs when you noticed something else.
the shape of his jaw as he ate â sharp, cut like stone under soft skin. youâd seen him eat ramen a hundred times, but this was the first time you really looked. the way his throat moved when he swallowed. the subtle flex of his neck. his collarbone peeking from under his hoodie. even the slope of his nose and the way his glasses rested perfectly above his cheekbones.
he wasnât just your best friend. he was⌠really attractive.
painfully so.
and that realization made your stomach clench â not from the hangover, but from something dangerously close to want.
you sat there, fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic of the ramen bowl, the heat grounding you as your mind spun.
âheyâŚâ your voice came out soft, hesitant. âabout last nightââ
the sound of his chopsticks hitting the table made you jump. it wasnât loud, but it was enough. enough to cut through the quiet and slice the conversation before it could begin.
haechan didnât look at you. his jaw tensed as he stared at the table, hands clenched loosely on either side of his bowl.
you froze. unsure.
he inhaled through his nose, controlled, calculated. then, finally, he spoke. âif youâre done eating⌠maybe you should call a locksmith. for your apartment.â
your stomach dropped.
just like that, the warmth left the room. or maybe it was still there, but it couldnât reach you anymore.
âo-oh.â you blinked. âyeah⌠right. my keys.â
he stood up slowly, not rushed, just⌠distant. like something inside him had gone cold.
you watched him close the laptop screen with one hand, then gather his bowl and yours, moving with quiet efficiency. not meeting your gaze once.
you couldnât move. couldnât speak. the shift was too sharp, too sudden. it left you sitting there like a statue, hands still wrapped around the now lukewarm bowl.
âiâll wash these,â he muttered, almost to himself.
you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your throat was tight, words caught somewhere between confusion and guilt. you hadnât meant to ruin the morning. hadnât meant to push.
but there it was again â the elephant. bigger than ever.
and this time, haechan had chosen to turn his back on it.
you stood up slowly, the chair scraping against the floor. he was already at the sink, rinsing the dishes like it was any other sunday. like nothing happened. like you hadnât kissed him. like you hadnât confessed the things that had been burning you from the inside out.
but your eyes were stuck on his back. the slope of his shoulders. the way his hoodie clung slightly at the waist. and still â that feeling. that gnawing ache deep in your chest.
he was right there. and still, he felt so far away.
âhaechanâŚâ your voice barely carried.
he didnât turn around.
you bit your lip. hard. maybe you had crossed a line. maybe he was just being kind last night, and you mistook it for something else. maybeâ
âi need to shower,â he said abruptly, setting the last plate down. âyou can use my phone to call someone.â
and then he was gone, the bathroom door closing with a click that echoed too loudly in the silence he left behind.
you were alone again.
but this time, it hurt more than it shouldâve.
your phone was still dead.
you hadnât charged it since last night, and at this point, it didnât matter. you werenât exactly in the mood to speak to anyone else anyway.
you curled up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest, arms wrapping tightly around them like they could somehow protect you from the weight pressing on your chest. you stared blankly ahead, trying to piece together what went wrong.
you hadnât meant to make things weird. you hadnât meant to cross a line. and yet⌠you did. and now, all of it felt like a mistake unraveling at your feet.
you chewed on your lip, eyes unfocused.
was it when you asked to stay with him? or when you told him the truth â that you couldnât stop thinking about him, that you wanted to learn with him because you trusted him? maybe it was the kiss. that moment, hazy and laced with beer, when you leaned in and felt his lips move against yours. he kissed you back. you were sure of it.
but now⌠maybe it wasnât enough. or maybe it was too much.
the sound of the bathroom door opening pulled you from your spiral. you looked up, heart stuttering in your chest.
haechan stepped out, steam drifting behind him in lazy clouds. his black t-shirt clung to his skin slightly, still damp from the shower. his sweatpants sat low on his hips, and around his neck hung a white towel, which he used intermittently to ruffle through his damp, dark hair.
he looked surprised to see you still there.
his expression flattened quickly, going unreadable. âyou still havenât called the locksmith?â
you didnât answer.
he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, towel dragging with it. ây/nâŚâ
but you were already crying.
your face was turned away, but he saw the tremble in your shoulders, the way your hands gripped tighter around your legs. the soft sound of you trying not to make a sound.
âiâm sorry,â you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your own words. âi ruined everything.â
he went quiet.
âi shouldâve never suggested that,â you continued, barely audible. âi didnât mean to treat you like youâre someâ some kind of object. i was just thinking about myself. about what i wanted. and that was selfish. i wasnât thinking about you.â
he still didnât move.
âi justââ you swallowed thickly, lifting your head to look at him through blurry eyes. âi wasnât trying to use you. i swear. i⌠i just trust you. youâre my best friend. and maybe i took that too far. i just⌠i feel like iâve messed everything up.â
you laughed bitterly. âyou didnât even have to say anything. your face this morning said it all.â
for a second, haechan just looked at you. his gaze scanned your face â your tear-stained cheeks, your trembling mouth. the regret swimming in your eyes.
then he sighed and walked closer. dropped the towel onto the coffee table. crouched down in front of you.
âyouâre not the only one whoâs confused,â he said, voice softer now. âand yeah, maybe last night was messy. maybe we said shit we werenât supposed to. but⌠you didnât ruin anything.â
your breath hitched.
he leaned in, resting a hand gently on your knee.
âyouâre not selfish for wanting something. and youâre not using me. i know you.â his voice dropped a bit, more intimate now. âmaybe thatâs why itâs so hard to pretend it didnât affect me.â
you blinked. ââŚwhat?â
he looked up at you from where he knelt. âyou said⌠kissing could help calm you down. remember?â
your eyes widened.
he tilted his head, a small, careful smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.
âso⌠if it helpsâŚâ he leaned closer, letting his hand trail up your thigh. âi could kiss you again.â
you stopped breathing.
your lips parted, unsure of what to say. but your body moved before your brain could catch up. you leaned in.
he met you halfway.
this kiss was different. slower. more controlled. still tasting faintly of mint and something warm, like cinnamon from the tea heâd made earlier. his hand cradled your cheek this time, thumb brushing softly beneath your eye.
it wasnât rushed. it wasnât hungry.
but it burned.
and then he pulled back, just barely.
âbut only when youâre sober,â he whispered against your lips, breath warm. âonly when you really mean it.â
you nodded slowly, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
âokay,â you breathed. âokay.â
and for now â that was enough.
a few weeks passed.
you had finally gotten a replacement set of keys and returned to your apartment. that weekend was a blur of mundane thingsâscrubbing your bathroom floor until your arms ached, catching up on overdue sketches, finishing the last pages of an assignment youâd been dodging for weeks. you needed the quiet. the stillness. a chance to feel like yourself again.
but even in your own bed, the cold side of the sheets reminded you of that one night you hadnât slept alone.
the kiss with haechan had, strangely, softened everything between you. the awkwardness melted away like snow on sunlit pavement. now, you were gentler with each other. your laughter came easier. your glances lingered longer. but the elephantâthe weight of what that kiss meantânever left. it simply learned to sit quietly in the corner.
on tuesday afternoon, you were leaving the print room when you nearly ran into jaehyun.
"whoa, careful, pretty girl," he said, catching your elbow with a hand that felt way too steady, too confident.
âsorry,â you chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. jaehyun always looked like he belonged in some magazine spreadâjaw carved from stone, lashes too long for someone that smug, silver rings glinting against his fingers like he knew where the light would hit.
âwhat brings you over here?â he asked, eyeing your sketch tube slung across your shoulder.
âprofessor cho. needed some stuff for his class. heâs on his power trip again.â
âclassic,â he smirked. âlisten⌠weâre having something this friday. low-key. not one of those packed, flyer-in-the-bathroom kind of things. just a curated crowd. people who get it.â
your brow arched. âcurated?â
he laughed. âyeah. you know. people with taste.â
you rolled your eyes, but couldnât stop the smile tugging at your lips.
âyou should come,â he added, stepping a little closer. âmight help with that tension youâve been carrying around.â
âwhat tension?â you teased.
he leaned in, eyes flicking down your face. âthe kind that makes you think too much. sometimes you gotta stop overanalyzing and just feel it.â
âfeel what?â
his smile was maddening. âdepends who you end up with.â
you laughed it off, but your cheeks were already warm. maybe he was flirting. maybe he wasnât. either way, the idea sat in your chest like a dare.
you thought about it all the way back to your place. and later that night, lying on your bed staring at the ceiling, you let yourself wonder what itâd be like to⌠try. to stop guessing what sex felt like and actually find out. you didnât want to rush it. but you didnât want to keep floating in uncertainty either.
and somewhere else on campus, haechan couldnât stop thinking about you either.
he was standing in the backroom of the burger place, mirror fogged with steam, face damp and flushed from another rush. and there you were. again. in his head. like youâd carved a space he couldnât seal shut.
he felt pathetic.
like some teenage boy discovering self-pleasure for the first time. except it wasnât discoveryâit was addiction. every night, without fail, his body woke him up with a pulse he couldnât ignore. his hand would slide beneath the waistband of his sweats, his breath shallow, mind full of you. always you.
and god, those lips.
maybe he shouldâve never kissed you.
but the second your mouth touched his, something inside him had snapped. like it had been waiting for that moment all along. youâd kissed him with a kind of messy urgencyâtoo fast, too eager, bumping teeth before finding a rhythm. but then came the softness. the unspoken need. the trust. you had tasted like beer and breath mints and something far too intimate for a one-time thing.
now, he couldnât un-feel it.
behind the counter, heâd zone out mid-shift, hands wet from dishes, and suddenly heâd remember the way you had moaned into his mouth. the way you had gripped his hoodie like you were holding on for dear life. the way your body had melted into his.
he couldnât stop picturing you in that black dress, jacket slipping off your shoulder, legs crossed like a sin. or the way your lips had parted when you looked at him like you needed more. like you wanted him.
and at nightâhis room dark, quiet, too warmâhe would close his eyes and imagine your thighs on either side of his hips. your voice whispering his name. your nails on his skin.
he used to admire you from a safe place. used to think of you as a friend, maybe even a muse. now? now he couldnât look at you without imagining what it would be like to bury his face between your legs. to ruin you a little. just enough.
he hated how much he needed it.
he hated how much he missed the feel of your mouth on his.
he hated that he wanted more.
you were stepping out of your digital illustration class, bag slung over your shoulder, neck stiff from hunching over your campaign poster project. when you exited the building, you spotted him right awayâhaechan, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands tucked into his backpack straps like heâd been waiting a while.
you always found him there these days.
âhey,â you said, breathless from the stairs. âthanks for waiting. again.â
he gave a casual shrug. âyou make it sound like i have a life.â
âdo you?â
ââŚnot really.â
you both smiled.
as you walked side by side, the sun cast long shadows behind you, painting the concrete in soft amber. you werenât touching. but it felt like you were. something invisible had always linked you two. lately, thoughâit tugged harder.
âso,â you said, voice light, âi think iâm gonna go to that party. tomorrowâ
he blinked. âjaehyunâs?â
you nodded. âhe made it sound... exclusive.â
âand youâre going?â
you smirked at his tone. âmight be an opportunity.â
he stiffened beside you. âopportunity for what?â
you gave him a look. âyou know what.â
he stopped. âyouâre really gonna sleep with him?â
your cheeks flared, heart skipping. âno. itâs not like that. i just⌠maybe itâs time to try. get some answers.â
you watched his face carefully. saw the way his jaw locked. the way his brows twitched.
âbut,â you added softly, âif it happens⌠it happens.â
and then, bold as ever, you turned to him. âunless you still wanna help me.â
his breath caught.
âwe already kissed,â you said, eyes steady on his. âfeels like weâve done half the homework. next partâs sex, right? thatâs what comes after. and youâyouâre the one who used to brag about how good you were at it.â
he looked like youâd cornered him. because you had.
âremember those nights youâd ramble about girls? âher tits are insaneâ, âiâd fold her in a secondââthat was you, haechan. your words.â
he swallowed, hard. âi didnât think you were listening.â
âi always listen to you,â you said, voice barely above a whisper. âespecially when you talk about what you like.â
and then, with a wicked grin: âand letâs be honest. guys lose their minds over tits and ass. thatâs not complicated.â
his silence told you everything.
you took one step closer, slow and steady.
âso?â you asked again, quieter now. âare you still willing to help me?â
and he didnât answer.
not with words.
but you saw it in his eyesâthe panic, the desire, the war between instinct and restraint.
you had no idea how long he could keep resisting.
but you were getting closer to finding out.
the night felt quieter than usual when they arrived at your apartment. your didnât speak. the walk there had been filled with those kinds of silences that donât necessarily feel awkward, but make you too aware of your own thoughts. you walked a few steps ahead of haechan, and he found himself watching you â the way your fingers twisted nervously, the slight tension in your shoulders, the soft sway of your hair brushing your back. he could tell she was unsure. and if he was being honest, so was he.
heâd never seen you like this before. not really. not in this light.
thereâd always been this boundary between both of you, this invisible thread that kept everything just on the edge of becoming something else. but lately⌠it had changed. the way she looked at him lingered a little longer. the way he touched you â in small, passing moments â felt less like habit and more like gravity. and right now, standing in the dim glow of your apartment, he realized just how close you were to crossing that invisible line.
he stands close, but not touching, his gaze fixed on you with a kind of careful intensity that makes your skin warm.
you unlock the door without saying a word, your fingers fumbling slightly. you can feel his eyes on you, not judging, just watching. when you step inside, he follows, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
inside, itâs quiet. you cross the room and sit on the edge of your bed, heart racing.
he doesnât follow you immediately. Instead, he leans against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression unreadable. you feel his eyes on your back as you drop your keys onto the counter, your breath shaky, heart pacing with something you donât quite understand but desperately want to. when you finally turn around to face him, heâs already watching you â not with that usual teasing smile, but with something heavier, deeper. something that feels like want.
you turned to face him, eyes uncertain, but there was something else behind them. something softer. something raw.
âi want to do it,â you said, your voice barely above a whisper.Â
âstill thinking about your plan?â he asks softly, voice calm, like heâs trying not to spook you.
you nod slowly. âi just⌠i want to be good for jaehyun.â
his jaw tightens just a little, barely noticeable. but his voice doesnât change. âyouâre trying to learn how to please someone else,â he says, stepping closer, âwhen you havenât even taken the time to learn yourself.â
you blink, suddenly unsure. âi thought⌠thatâs what you were going to help me with.â
he exhales gently, closing the space between you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. âi will. but only if you let me take the lead. if you trust me completely. no pretending. no rushing. just⌠you. raw. honest.â
your breath catches in your throat. something about the way he says it, the quiet authority in his tone, the way he looks at you like he already knows your body better than you do â it makes you ache in places youâve barely dared to explore on your own.
âokay,â you whisper, your voice trembling. âiâll do whatever you say.â
his eyes soften. thereâs something unspoken there â a tension thatâs been building between you for longer than you realized. and now itâs finally unraveling.
âthen take off your clothes,â he says, his voice low, steady. âlie back.â
your fingers feel clumsy, nerves fluttering in your chest as you undress. he doesnât look away. his gaze follows every inch of skin you reveal like heâs memorizing you. but it never feels invasive. it feels⌠reverent. when youâre finally bare, you lie down, body exposed, unsure, vulnerable. he doesnât move right away. he just watches, like heâs waiting for you to fully settle into the moment.
âyouâre beautiful,â he says quietly. âbut iâm not going to touch you until i see that you believe it, too.â
you want to believe it. you want to feel beautiful in your own skin, not just because someone else says it, but because something inside you says you deserve to be. but right now, all you feel is nervous. exposed. seen.
he kneels at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. âyouâre safe,â he murmurs. âyouâre in control. iâm just guiding you.â
his hand touches your thigh, light as air, and your breath stutters. the warmth of his palm spreads through you like liquid, grounding and electric all at once. he doesnât rush. his fingers explore slowly, tracing the curve of your hip, the softness of your stomach, the inside of your thigh. each touch is a question, and your breath is the answer.
when his fingers finally find you, you gasp â not because itâs too much, but because itâs perfect. just enough. just right. he doesnât push, doesnât demand. he simply explores, watching every reaction, every shift of your hips, every shaky breath you take like itâs the only thing that matters.
his fingers finally reach where you need them, but he doesnât go straight for it â no, he teases, tracing along the outer edge of your heat, making you gasp at the sudden jolt of electricity. your hips shift instinctively, seeking friction, but his free hand presses gently against your stomach, grounding you.
âeasy,â he murmurs. âweâre not rushing. i want to feel every part of you fall apart.â
your head tips back against the pillow, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers finally slip between your folds â gentle at first, just enough pressure to make your toes curl. he exhales softly, as if the heat of you surprises even him.
ârelax,â he whispers. âfeel. donât think about whatâs next. just stay with me. here.â
his fingers stroke you with a patience you didnât know could exist, learning your body like itâs a language only he can understand. youâre wet, embarrassingly so, and he seems to revel in it, the way your body responds to his touch. he circles your clit with slow, practiced motions, his thumb brushing over you with maddening precision. youâre moaning now, soft and quiet, not even realizing the sounds are yours.
âfuck,â he whispers. âyouâre soaked.â
your cheeks flush, but any embarrassment is quickly replaced by want as he finds your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your legs tremble.
you whimper his name, voice barely there, and his response is a low groan against your skin. âthatâs it, baby. let me hear you.â
his mouth is everywhere now â at your neck, your chest, sucking marks into your skin like he wants to claim you, mark you, make you his. and god, part of you wants it too â wants to be wanted like this, worshipped like this.
his fingers move lower, one pressing gently at your entrance, testing. âyou okay?â he asks, voice soft but thick with desire.
âyes,â you gasp, clutching at his wrist. âplease.â
your hips begin to move on their own, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. the pressure is building, coiling deep inside your core, unfamiliar and terrifying and addictive. he slips a finger inside you, slow and gentle, curling just right, and you cry out, your body clenching around him without meaning to.
âh-hyuck...â you cried.
âyou like that?â he asks, voice rough now, closer to a groan than a whisper. you nod frantically, unable to form words, your hands gripping the sheets like theyâre the only thing.
he slides in slow, giving you time to adjust, watching your face the whole time. his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing in time with the slow push of his finger. your breath stutters, and he leans in to kiss you, stealing the sound from your lips.
you moan into his mouth, overwhelmed, undone, as he adds a second finger, the stretch just enough to make your back arch. he curls them just right, finding that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.
âthere it is,â he groans, his lips brushing yours. âfuck, you feel so good.â
you canât answer. you can barely think. all you can do is feel â the heat building inside you, the pull of release so close you can taste it.
âdonât hold back,â he whispers against your neck. âi want to feel you fall apart for me.â
and when he starts moving faster â fingers pumping deep and sure, thumb pressing harder against your clit â itâs too much. the pressure breaks, crashing over you like a tidal wave. your body tenses, then shatters, crying out his name as you come harder than you ever have before.
he holds you through it, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his fingers slow but donât leave you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until youâre trembling beneath him, boneless and gasping.
âlet go,â he murmurs again, lips brushing against your ear. âdonât hold back. iâve got you.â
his thumb presses harder against your clit, his fingers moving faster, more deliberate, and the pressure explodes inside you, all at once â a wave crashing over your body with violent tenderness. you cry out, shaking, the world narrowing to nothing but heat and light and the sound of his voice grounding you as your orgasm rips through you.
he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. his breath is ragged, his eyes full of something you donât quite understand â but you feel it in your chest. raw. intense. real.
âyou donât know what you just did to me,â he whispers, voice hoarse.
your body arches, muscles tightening, breath gone, and everything â everything â goes quiet except for the echo of your release.
and when you open your eyes to meet his, you realize something terrifying and beautiful â you donât think youâll ever look at him the same again.
your back pressed against the sheets, your skin bare under the dim, golden light of your room, your breath already shaky as haechan settles beside you, fully clothed, fully in control. you should feel nervous, and maybe you do, but itâs buried under something stronger â something warmer. the way heâs looking at you now is enough to make you forget how to breathe.
haechan sits on the edge of your bed, staring at his handânow cleanâlike he canât believe what just happened. his breath is heavier than he wants to admit. his thoughts are scrambled, the feeling of touching you, of showing you something he never thought heâd share, overwhelms him. something inside him burns, something he doesnât know if itâs frustration or desire, but he feels it with an intensity he canât control.
when you step out of the shower, your skin still warm from the hot water, he stays there, still. you go through your skincare routine, but every movement seems to echo in him more than it should. the way your fingers brush against your face, the way you move... everything feels different now. he watches in silence, the space between you now thick with something unspoken.
âi didnât think it would feel like that,â you say softly, breaking the silence. your voice has a tremor you canât hide. âthank you... for helping me.â
the gesture feels sincere, but thereâs something in your eyes that makes him feel exposed. he doesnât quite understand it. he tells himself itâs fine, that heâs just helping you, that heâs just being there for you. but his body betrays him, his jaw tightens, and his fingers twitch at his side.
âyou donât need to thank me,â he says, his voice quiet, almost too quiet. âyou just needed to know yourself. thatâs all.â
you pause, pressing moisturizer into your skin, still feeling that soft hum in your body, a low buzz you canât seem to shake off. itâs from what happened, but you try to tell yourself itâs just the adrenaline, just nerves. nothing more.
âi think i can handle things now,â you reply, keeping your eyes on your reflection in the mirror. âmaybe tomorrow at the party... iâll kiss jaehyun, just see how it goes. no pressure. i donât want to rush.â
the moment the words leave your mouth, you feel itâthe way the air shifts between you two. you donât mean to look at haechan when you say jaehyunâs name, but you do. and his eyes flicker for just a second, something hard behind them that he quickly hides. he doesnât react out loud, but his shoulders stiffen, his mouth pressing into a tight line.
âyeah,â he says, his voice controlled, but you can hear the tightness underneath. âsounds like a good idea. you deserve to figure out what you want.â
you smile, trying to lighten the mood, but something in you catches as you look at him. you feel like youâve said the wrong thing, but youâre not sure why. haechan doesnât look at you anymore. he stares at the floor, his jaw working like heâs holding something back.
he doesnât let himself show it. he canât. youâre his best friend, and he promised to help you, to guide you, not to get caught up in his own feelings. but with every word you speak, with every step you take toward jaehyun, something deep inside him twists.
heâs tasted something he shouldnât want. and now, the thought of you with someone elseâeven someone you loveâis unbearable.
still, he says nothing. he canât. because he promised to help you discover yourself, not to confuse you more.
even if every part of him wants to be the only one who gets to touch you like that again.
friday came faster than expected, slipping through the cracks of your week like it had been waiting for you. unlike the other days, this one was bitterly coldâthe kind of cold that crept into your sleeves and curled around your spine. haechan had texted you earlier, his usual playful tone dulled by exhaustion. "today i actually have to close, so iâll be stuck at work late," he wrote, followed by a yawning emoji and a tired little heart. you stared at the message longer than you shouldâve, feeling something heavy settle in your chest.
the cold winter air bites at your legs as you step out of the cab, your breath fogging in front of you in soft clouds. the house isnât just any houseâitâs one of the old fraternity houses on the edge of campus, the kind that looks more like a mansion than a place college boys live in. warm light glows from the tall windows, and the low hum of music leaks out from behind the heavy wooden door before it swings open.
jaehyun is already waiting, leaning casually against the doorframe. he looks unfairly goodâhis hair slightly tousled, a dark turtleneck hugging his figure under a sleek wool coat. he gives you that smile, the one that always makes your stomach twist in ways youâve never really understood.
âyou made it,â he says, stepping aside to let you in.
you settled on a black leather jacket, cropped just above the waist, its silver zippers catching the light every time you moved. underneath, you wore a satin navy blouse, soft and loose, with a deep neckline that hinted without revealing too much. your high-waisted dark jeans hugged your figure just right, paired with heeled ankle boots that clicked confidently against the pavement. a silk scarf, deep burgundy, wrapped around your neckânot just for warmth, but as a finishing touch. your hair was pulled back loosely, tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was soft but sharpâdark liner, flushed cheeks, and a deep berry gloss that caught the chill in the air.
you notice jaehyunâs gaze drop, lingering for a beat too long before he leads you inside.
the party isnât crowdedâmaybe twenty people, maybe less. itâs quiet in that expensive kind of way: muted music, low lighting, golden liquor sloshing in crystal glasses. thereâs laughter and whispers, but nothing too wild. youâre not sure what you expected, but somehow it feels more intimate than youâd prepared for.
after your second drink, the room gets a little warmer. the vodka-orange is stronger than you thought, but it burns in a good way. youâre not drunk, not like that night, but the edges of your thoughts are softer, looser.
the music is barely audible now, just a low pulse behind your ribs as jaehyun leans in. it happens the way you always imagined it wouldâwith the warmth of alcohol in your veins, the subtle tension in the air, his breath fanning softly against your cheek as his lips finally meet yours.
at first, itâs cinematic.
his hand is at your waist, careful but firm. his lips, smooth and slow, move against yours like heâs done this a thousand times. his cologne is richâsomething expensive and clean, like bergamot and wood.
âyou look incredible tonight,â he murmurs, voice low. Itâs not the first time heâs flirted with you, but tonight it feels more focused.
you laugh lightly, sipping again. âyou say that to every girl you invite to one of these,â you tease.
he smirks. âi donât. just the ones i hope will stay after everyone else leaves.â
that catches you off guard. thereâs a pause, the kind thatâs heavy with implication. you donât answer right away. instead, you tilt your head, watching him through the haze of dim lights and liquor.
more intentional. you close your eyes, willing your heart to speed up, your stomach to twist, your knees to weaken.
but none of it happens.
instead, thereâs a slow, creeping emptiness that settles over your skin. you taste the sharp tang of beer on his tongueâbitter and staleâand it dulls the moment like a film of dust on something once shiny. itâs not that heâs doing anything wrong. in fact, heâs doing everything right. and maybe thatâs the problem. itâs all too perfect. too rehearsed. too... lifeless.
you keep your lips against his a second longer, maybe two, hoping that if you just try, the magic will follow.
but it doesnât.
what started as something dreamlike begins to dissolve, unraveling into something flat. weightless. forgettable. like kissing a statueâbeautiful, yes, but cold. you feel your body slowly disconnect, like your mind is pulling away, shrinking back into itself. youâre kissing jaehyun. jaehyun. tall, broad-shouldered, silver-tongued. the guy every girl fantasizes about.
and yet... nothing.
when you pull away, you do it gently, trying not to show the disappointment pressing against your chest like a bruise. he looks at you with those deep, unreadable eyes, but you canât meet them for long. something in you already knows: this isnât what you wanted. maybe it never was.
and then, like clockwork, your thoughts betray you.
because in the silence that follows, in that stretch of breathless stillness, a name rises uninvited in your mind.
haechan.
you blink, shaken by the immediacy of it. why him, of all people? but it doesnât stop. your mind floods with him, with everything he is and isnât. jaehyun is all sharp lines and polished edges. heâs winter: sleek and cold, dressed in cashmere and shadows. and haechan...
haechan is sun-warmed skin and mischievous smiles. heâs a burst of color in a black-and-white room. his skin is golden, kissed by sun even in december. you remember the first time he wore glasses in classâhow suddenly he looked different. not in a new way, but like you were finally seeing something that had been there all along. it had startled you. he looked good. really good. and youâd stared a little longer than you meant to.
you think about how he always cradles that old gaming console on his lap during breaks, fingers dancing over buttons like it's second nature. how he talks about characters and plots with the same intensity people reserve for politics or love. how he orders black coffee like it's a religion, never anything sweet. how he complains about the cold like it's a personal offenseâbundling up in layers and still shivering, nose pink, eyes watery, grumbling but cute.
and you remember something else.
the way his eyes light up when he talks about music. not just any musicâheâs always been drawn to layered melodies, harmonies that build slowly, that sneak up on you. youâd caught him once, eyes closed, headphones in, mouthing the words to a song you didnât recognize. something soft and slow. when you asked what it was, he smiled, kind of shy, and said, âitâs this track i foundâit builds so gently, but when it hits, it hits. it makes you feel everything, you know?â
you didnât then. but now, maybe you do.
because thatâs what haechan is like. he builds slowly. gently. he makes you feel everything without trying. without asking. just by being.
you think back to his kissâthat moment in the quiet of his room, when the world felt too small and too loud all at once. his lips werenât smooth or calculated. they were warm. real. tasting faintly of coffee and breath mints, of nervousness and care. his hands werenât firmâthey trembled just a little. like he wasnât sure, but he wanted to be. and that kiss? it burned. it lingered. it left something behind in your chest, something heavy and aching.
jaehyunâs kiss, in comparison, feels like water evaporating before it ever touches your skin.
âi need some air,â you say, barely loud enough to hear over the music.
you step away from the kitchen, your hands shaking slightlyânot from cold, but from clarity. itâs unsettling, how fast something can shift. how a fantasy can collapse in on itself the moment reality arrives.
you walk toward the front door, ignoring jaehyunâs curious glance. and as the winter air hits your cheeks again, sharp and sobering, you realize the only thing you want right now is warmth.
and the only person whoâs ever made you feel it... is haechan.
you step outside, the cold air biting at your cheeks like reality trying to sober you up. itâs quiet out here, except for the faint music pulsing through the windows behind you and the distant sound of traffic. your lips still taste faintly of beer and disappointment, and you try not to let it show on your faceâeven if thereâs no one around to see.
you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly. not just from the cold, but from the feeling growing in your chest. a hollow ache that started the moment jaehyun pulled away and left you with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of something that shouldâve felt magical. it was supposed to mean something. youâd wanted it to. for weeksâmonths evenâyou thought that maybe this was what you needed. something new. something exciting.
but standing there in the dark, with the wind tugging gently at your coat, all you can think about is how wrong it felt.
how empty.
you sigh and glance down at your phone. 11:45 p.m. haechan probably just got home not long agoâhe said heâd be working late tonight, and you remember the slight frown he gave you when you mentioned the party. not because he disapproved. but because he wouldnât be there.
you hesitate, thumb hovering over his contact. calling him now would make you look ridiculous, wouldnât it? but god⌠you need someone. someone who knows you, who doesnât expect you to be dazzling or mysterious or anything other than exactly who you are.
before you can overthink it again, your thumb presses âcall.â
the line barely rings twice before his voice comes through, groggy but alert, like he hadnât really been asleep yet.
"y/n?" his voice is a little breathless, alarmed. "are you okay?"
you donât answer right away. the sound of his voice cracks something open inside you. your throat tightens, and your eyes sting, a rush of heat behind your lashes. the words wonât come, caught somewhere between your tongue and your heart.
"hey, talk to me. what happened?"
his concern hits you like a wave. not because of what heâs saying, but how heâs saying it. gently. urgently. like nothing else in the world matters except you right now. like your silence is enough to make his chest hurt.
you swallow thickly, finally managing to breathe, âi⌠i didnât know who else to call.â
he exhales slowly, like heâs relieved to hear your voice, even if itâs shaky. âiâm glad you called me.â
and itâs so stupidâso fucking stupidâbut thatâs when the tears come. silently at first, then all at once. and still, haechan says nothing. just waits, gives you space to fall apart without asking for an explanation.
he always does that. always shows up, always makes you feel like youâre not too much, even when youâre too much for yourself.
and suddenly you realize somethingânot like a lightning bolt, but like a quiet click, something that was always there, waiting to be noticed. it was never about jaehyun. not really. it was the idea of him. and now, with that illusion shattered, youâre left with the one person whoâs been real all along.
the one who always answers the phone. the one who remembers how you take your coffee. the one who listens when you talk about your art for hours and never pretends to be bored.
âcan youâŚâ your voice is small, choked, âcan you come get me?â
âalready on my way,â he says without hesitation.
and just like that, you feel less alone. maybe not okay, not yetâbut safe.
safe in the way only he ever made you feel.
you step back into the warmth of the house, wiping your cheeks and pretending the cold air is the only reason your eyes are red. inside, the party hasnât changed at allâmusic still pulsing, people still dancing, someone already passed out on a couch. it feels like you left the chaos and walked right back into it, except now it doesn't swallow you whole. now, youâre just⌠drifting.
you spot jaehyun near the kitchen, leaning against the counter, lazily scrolling through his phone. he doesnât look up at first, but when he does, his eyes land on you immediately. he straightens, sliding the phone into his back pocket before making his way toward you.
your stomach knotsânot because you're afraid, but because youâre not sure what you're supposed to say to the guy you just kissed and then immediately ran away from.
before he even opens his mouth, you raise a hand slightly, your words tumbling out faster than you can stop them.
âiâiâm sorry. i just⌠i think i was really into the idea of you. like, really into it. but tonight i realized maybe⌠i donât knowâŚâ
you trail off, eyes dropping to the floor, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on your boots.
jaehyun quirks a brow, and for a second, itâs awkwardly silentâbut then he lets out a soft laugh. itâs not cruel, not mocking. just⌠amused.
âyou know,â he says, arms crossing over his chest, âwhen we first started talking, i thought you and that guy donghyuck?âwere together. like, definitely together.â
you blink, lifting your head. âwhat?â
âyeah,â he shrugs. âyouâd always come to class with him. always laughing, always close. and the way he looked at you? i figured i didnât stand a chance. but then i saw you alone for a few days, and thought maybe you broke up or something, soâŚâ he gestures vaguely. âi shot my shot.â
you feel your cheeks heat up instantly. âweâre not⌠heâs not my boyfriend. we never dated.â
jaehyun smirks like he doesnât believe you, but also like he knows better than to argue. âsure. maybe not technically. but come on.â he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. âyou really think thereâs nothing going on there?â
you start to protest, but then stop. because heâs not wrong, and youâre too tired to lieâto him or to yourself.
âitâs complicated,â you mutter.
he smiles again, this time softer, more genuine. âwell, if it helps⌠iâm not offended. not at all. i mean, youâre sweet, and you kiss okayââ
âokay?â you gasp, half-laughing, half-horrified.
âhey,â he chuckles, holding up his hands, âit was a mutual âmeh,â right?â
you both burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking like a balloon popped with a pin. for the first time that night, you feel lighter.
âi really thought i liked you,â you admit.
âyou probably did,â he shrugs. âor⌠the idea of me.â
âyeah.â
jaehyun gives you a wink. âfor what itâs worth, i think you and haechan are cute as hell. even if you donât know it yet.â
you roll your eyes, but youâre smiling. a real, unforced smile.
âthanks,â you say quietly.
âanytime,â he replies, already turning toward the kitchen again. âjust⌠donât let that one go, alright?â
and as you watch him disappear into the crowd, your phone buzzes in your pocket.
on my way. almost there.
you press your lips together, the ghost of a smile still there.
maybe you didnât come to this party to kiss jaehyun after all. maybe you came to realize who you shouldâve been calling all along.
the cold bites harder now. youâre standing outside again, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, your phone clutched tight in your hand. every passing second feels like itâs stretching eternity, but thenâyou spot him. haechan walks up the sidewalk.
haechan was wearing sweatpants, mismatched socks stuffed into crocs, and a hoodie thatâs too big even for him. his hair is a mess, fluffed and wild like he just rolled out of bedâand he probably did. you freeze, heart caught in your throat, as he blinks at you sleepily, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm.
you stare at himâat the boy who still showed up, in the dead of night, after a long shift, just because you needed him. and something inside you swells so big, so full, it spills over before you can contain it.
you donât thinkâyou run.
you crash into him with a force that makes him stumble half a step back, arms instantly wrapping around you, warm and steady. he doesnât say anything. he just holds you, one hand coming up to stroke your hair gently, his breath warm against your temple.
you press your face into his neck, breathing him inâcoffee, fabric softener, something so haechan. your chest heaves, and your eyes sting again.
when he pulls you into his embrace, it feels like the weight of the world finally lifts from your chest. his touch is soft, his fingers brushing against your skin in the most familiar way, like heâs always been there, always meant to be there.
he sighs softly, tugging you closer like heâs scared youâll slip away. âseriously⌠whatâs wrong with you lately?â he murmurs, voice groggy, laced with concern. âwhy are you acting like such a crybaby, huh?â
you lift your head, blinking up at him through the tears that wonât stop pooling. your eyes meet hisâthose deep, sleepy eyes that always seem to see too muchâand your lips part as if to answer, but no words come.
so instead, you kiss him.
you pull him down by the collar of his hoodie and press your mouth to his with all the confusion, all the ache, all the longing youâve buried for far too long. his lips are warm, soft, and as soon as he realizes whatâs happening, he kisses you back.
and then, when you press your lips to his, itâs like every other kiss youâve had fades away into nothingness. the world around you dissolves, and all that remains is the sensation of him. itâs pure, itâs groundingâeverything that jaehyunâs kiss wasnât.
he doesnât ask questions. he doesnât stop you. he just holds you tighter, like heâs afraid this moment might shatter.
his hand cradles your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing under your eye, and the kiss deepensânot rushed, not clumsy, just real. like heâs trying to tell you all the things neither of you ever dared to say.
your fingers curl into his hoodie as you pour everything into the kissâyour gratitude, your fear, your guilt, your truth.
it feels like you're being purified, as if every trace of doubt, of confusion, of disappointment, is being washed away by the intensity of haechanâs presence. thereâs no bitterness, no strange aftertasteâonly him, only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you lose yourself in him. with each second, you realize just how much youâve longed for this, how much youâve needed him, even when you didnât know it. this, this is what real intimacy feels like, and itâs everything you never knew you were missing.
the walk to haechanâs apartment felt different. the night air was biting, and the cold seemed to press against your skin, but it wasnât enough to cool the heat that was bubbling in your chest. you didnât want to be here, not tonight, not after everything that had just happened. but here you were, once again, losing yourself in the warmth of his presence.
âlost your keys again?â haechan asked, his voice playful but with a hint of concern in his eyes as he stepped aside to let you into his apartment. you gave him a sheepish smile, pretending to fumble with your bag and looking down, avoiding his gaze.
âyeah, Iâm such a mess,â you murmured, but your words felt hollow, like they were slipping through your fingers as quickly as the nightâs events.
he didnât say anything more, but the slight furrow of his brow told you he was paying attention. it was a game, a little lie that you used to keep yourself near him just a little longer, but tonight, it felt like more. it felt like you were hiding something from him.
inside his apartment, the quiet enveloped you like a blanket, and for a moment, it felt like everything was still. you sat on the couch next to him, the tension between you thickening by the second. it was always easy to talk to him, but tonight, the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. and you knew whyâbecause the taste of jaehyunâs kiss was still fresh on your lips, and it made you sick to your stomach.
âwhat happened?â haechanâs voice cut through the silence, and you could see it in his eyes: that flicker of concern. he knew something was wrong, and you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for the truth.
you let out a breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. âjaehyun... I kissed him.â
he stiffened beside you, his body tensing. you didnât have to look at him to know the change in his expression. it was there in the way his muscles locked up, in the way he barely moved, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the words.
"what? you kissed him?" he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. "good for you, I guess..."
the final sentence hit you like a punch to the gut, but you couldnât stop now. it was too late to take it back, and the confession felt like it was clawing its way out.
"it wasnât what I expected," you whispered, avoiding his gaze as your stomach twisted. "it was... bad. it didnât feel right. at all."
haechanâs hand clenched into a fist, his face hardening, but there was something more in his eyes nowâsomething you hadnât expected. jealousy. confusion. it was almost as if he wanted to say something but was holding it back. you felt the heat rise in your chest, your own guilt gnawing at you.
"waitâwhat?" haechan leaned forward, his voice suddenly sharp, though his face was tight with barely-contained emotion. "it was... bad? after all that?"
you nodded slowly, your throat tight as you continued, âyeah. it wasnât what I thought it would be. there was no passion, no spark. the taste of beer... it was all I could focus on, and I hated it. I... I just couldnât feel anything.â
the silence that followed felt thick, suffocating. you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. he wasnât angryâat least, not completelyâbut he was something else. hurt, maybe? or disappointment? you couldnât tell.
"so, thatâs it then?" his voice was quieter now, the sharpness fading into something softer, more contemplative. âyour feelings for him are... gone?â
"yeah," you admitted, finally meeting his gaze, feeling the truth weigh on your shoulders. "theyâre gone. I donât want him anymore. I donât even want to kiss him again."
the words hung in the air, and you waited for him to respond, your heart racing, unsure of what he would say. when he finally spoke, it wasnât what you expected.
âyou know,â he started, his voice light, almost teasing, âi never liked the idea of you with him. not even for a second.â
you blinked, surprised at his admission. âyou didnât?â
âno,â he said, the edge of his smile almost teasing, though there was something else behind it. âI always thought you deserved someone who wasnât... like him.â
you frowned, still processing what he was saying, but before you could respond, he continued.
âbut now i get it. i see why you would be disappointed. heâs not... him,â haechan said, his voice lowering, the underlying sadness creeping in. "i guess iâm just glad youâre realizing it now. even if it took you kissing him to see it."
a chill ran down your spine as you looked at him, unsure of what he meant. your heart tightened with a strange mix of relief and something elseâsomething more complicated that you couldnât name yet.
âyouâre not... mad?â you asked quietly.
âmad?â he repeated, laughing softly, though there was no real humor in it. âno. why would I be mad? Iâm just... relieved. you deserve better.â
âso... what now?â you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
haechan didnât answer immediately. his eyes lingered on youâsoaked in the way your makeup had smudged slightly, how your lips were still a little swollen from that kiss with jaehyun, how your dress had ridden up your thighs from the car ride. he swallowed hard, jaw clenched like he was fighting the urge to say something reckless.
then he said it anyway.
ânow i take care of you.â
your breath hitched.
he stepped closer. slowly. deliberately. the kind of approach that made your knees weak. the kind of approach that said he knew exactly what you needed before you did. his hand reached for your waist, pulling you gently toward him, until your bodies were flush against each other.
âunless you donât want that,â he murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. âyou tell me to stop, and i will. no questions, no pressure.â
you didnât say anything. you couldnât. Instead, you tilted your head and captured his lips in a kissâneedy, messy, full of everything you hadnât said for weeks.
he groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your hips, grounding you. but he didnât rush. he kissed you like he had time. like he was savoring the moment heâd waited for far too long.
âhaechanâŚâ you breathed when you finally pulled back.
he looked at you, eyes burning.
âyeah, baby?â
your cheeks flushed. âi⌠want to go further. i trust you.â
he blinked, just once, and something softened in his expression.
âare you sure?â he asked, voice lower now, rougher, but laced with concern. âi need to hear you say it.â
you nodded, fingers brushing his jaw. âiâm sure.â
he kissed you again, slower this time, like a promise. then he scooped you up effortlessly in his arms, carrying you to his bed, the same way he always carried you emotionallyâcareful, steady, never letting you fall.
he laid you down like you were precious, and then crawled over you, caging you in with his body, forehead pressed to yours.
âtell me if anything feels too much,â he whispered.
you nodded. he reached over to the nightstand, rummaging for a condom, giving you a look that made your stomach flip.
âPrepared?â you teased softly.
he smirked. âbaby, iâve been in love with you since you spilled coffee on my camera. iâve always been prepared.â
your laugh faded into a gasp as his hands slipped beneath your dress, touching you with reverence, praise pouring from his mouth like it was second nature.
âso fucking perfect,â he murmured, kissing down your neck. âevery part of you. mine to take care of. mine to love.â
his fingers teased you through your panties until you were arching, needy and aching, the room filled with the soft, wet sounds of your arousal.
âyouâre already this wet for me? fuckâbaby, you're killing me.â
you squirmed, overwhelmed by the sensation, but craving more. then you heard the foil tear, and your heart pounded louder.
the moment he entered you was slow, intense, a stretch that bordered on pain and pleasure, but he was right thereâkissing your forehead, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how proud he was of you.
âyouâre doing so good,â he groaned. âso fucking tight. you were made for me, werenât you?â
you nodded desperately, clinging to him.
he moved slow, deep, rolling his hips so you felt every inch of him. his name fell from your lips like a prayer.
one condom turned into two. then three. you couldnât stop. neither could he.
sweat clung to your skin, tangled sheets beneath you. he had you on top of him at one point, his hands on your hips as you moved, his eyes never leaving your face.
âthatâs it, baby. take what you need. fuckâride me just like that.â
another position had him behind you, one hand gripping your waist, the other slipping between your legs to make you scream his name as your body fell apart.
by the time the fourth wrapper crumpled beside the bed, you were both panting, dazed and desperate.
you rolled onto your back, breathless. âweâre out.â
you reached for your phone, already sitting up. âI can run down to the 7-elevenââ
he stopped you instantly, pressing a hand to your stomach.
âno, baby,â he said, voice firm. âiâll go. you stay here. let me take care of it.â
the way he said itâso naturally, so possessivelyâsent a wave of heat straight through you. you bit your lip, something wicked curling inside you.
âorâŚâ you said, voice dripping with mischief. âwe could just⌠try without one.â
he froze. eyes dark. jaw tight.
âdonât tempt me,â he growled.
you crawled into his lap, pressing your lips to his neck.
âwhat if i want to?â you whispered. âwhat if i want all of you?â
he exhaled sharply, head falling back. âfuck⌠youâre dangerous.â
still, he hesitatedâuntil you ground down on him and whispered, âi trust you, haechan.â
that was all it took.
he didnât say a word for a moment. just stared at you like youâd set him on fire.
then he kissed youâhard. not rushed, but full of hunger, like youâd just pulled the leash off something heâd been holding back for far too long.
you could feel him against you, throbbing and hot, even without anything between you now. your body tingled in anticipation, in fear, in want. you were bare in every wayâand he saw you, accepted you, craved you.
he guided you down onto the bed again, positioning himself between your thighs, his hands cupping your face gently.
âif i do thisâŚâ he said, voice low and trembling with restraint, âyou need to tell me if anything feels wrong. anything at all, baby.â
âit wonât,â you whispered. âi want you. just like this.â
he lined himself up, one hand steadying your hip, the other brushing hair from your face. when he pushed inâslow, careful, deepâyour whole body tensed, wrapped around him like he was the first breath after drowning.
it hurt. just a little. enough to make your lips part with a gasp. but he stopped instantly, not moving, just whispering against your cheek.
âbreathe for me, sweetheart. youâre doing so fucking good.â
you nodded, clinging to his shoulders, letting yourself relax little by little until your body opened for him.
he began to moveânot fast, but deep and fluid, his voice rasping against your ear with every thrust.
âyou feel unreal,â he groaned. âso tight. so fucking warm. shitâyou're making me lose my mind.â
your nails dug into his back. you couldnât think. could barely breathe. all you knew was himâhis scent, his voice, his body fitting against yours like you were made for this moment.
âdoes it feel good, baby?â he asked, barely holding it together.
âyes,â you moaned. âit feels so good, haechan.â
he reached between you, his fingers finding that perfect spot again, circling gently as his hips rolled deeper.
âi want you to cum for me,â he whispered, eyes flicking up to the mirror across the room.
and thatâs when you saw it tooâthe reflection.
the sight of yourself, spread out beneath him, his body covering yours, the way his hips rolled into you, slow but relentless, the way your mouth fell open in pleasure.
you locked eyes with him through the mirror.
âlook at you,â he said. âso fucking pretty. you should see what i see. you should see what you do to me.â
you whimpered, already close. the feeling of him inside you, the way he praised you, the reflection showing you everything you felt but couldnât describeâit pushed you right to the edge.
âyouâre mine,â he growled, thrusting deeper. âsay it.â
âiâm yours,â you gasped, back arching.
âagain.â
âiâm yours, haechanâfuckâiâmââ
the orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave. your whole body trembled as you clung to him, moaning his name like a confession.
he followed with a deep, broken moan, hips grinding into you as he came, his entire body tensing above yours, the sound of your names and curses filling the air as he spilled inside you, raw and unfiltered.
afterward, he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his chest, kissing your forehead with trembling lips.
âiâve never felt anything like that,â he whispered.
you couldnât answer. your body was still shaking, your mind a mess of stars and heat.
he held you close, running his fingers up and down your spine.
and for a long time, neither of you spoke.
because nothing needed to be said.
haechan stood by the door, shirtless, hair messy, pulling on his sweatpants with a crooked grin on his face.
âbe right back,â he said, grabbing his keys. âwe are out of condoms.â
your heart jumped at how casually he said it. like he already knew you werenât done. like he couldnât wait to get his hands back on you.
âdonât be long,â you said, your voice a little hoarse, a little needy.
âiâll run,â he smirked, and you believed him.
the moment the door closed behind him, your body buzzed with anticipation. you felt sore, satisfied⌠and yet completely empty without him there.
a little while later, you were curled up on his couch wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie, legs tucked under you, sipping water with your thighs still trembling from everything he just made you feel.
your mind ran wild imagining all the things heâd do when he got back.
and ohâhe did.
he came back ten minutes later, breathless and grinning, holding a bag with the corner of a box peeking out.
âmiss me?â he teased.
âshut up,â you mumbled, biting your lip as he approached you on the couch.
but he didnât give you time to banter. his mouth was on yours again, hungry and hot, hands already sliding under the hoodie like heâd been starving the whole way back.
âi couldnât stop thinking about you,â he growled into your ear, lips dragging down your neck. âevery fucking step i ran, i was thinking about how wet you were. how tight. how you said my name when you came.â
you whimpered, legs parting automatically as he knelt between them on the couch.
but this timeâhe was different. rougher. more commanding. his eyes darker.
âget up,â he whispered, pulling you to your feet.
âwhere are weâ?â
âshower,â he said. ânow.â
you didnât argue.
the water hit your skin like a shock, but his body was hotter. he pressed you up against the cool tile wall, mouth devouring yours as his hands slid down to your ass, lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around him.
âyouâre mine tonight,â he growled against your lips. âno stopping now. you started thisânow iâm gonna finish it. again and again.â
your back hit the wall as he slid into you, wet and desperate. the sounds of skin against skin, water splashing, your moans echoing in the steamâfilthy and perfect.
you lost count of how many times he made you come.
after the shower, he didnât even let you dry off.
he carried youâcarriedânaked and dripping, to the living room, laying you over the back of the couch. your knees barely held as he bent you forward, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding between your legs.
âstill so wet?â he teased, running his fingers through your folds. âwhat did i do to you, baby?â
âyou ruined me,â you gasped, pushing back against his hand.
âgood,â he hissed. âyouâre gonna take me again. right here.â
and you did.
he fucked you from behind on the couch, your moans muffled in the cushion, your fingers clawing at the leather. he didnât let upâhe used you, praised you, told you how fucking hot you looked taking him like that.
then the kitchen.
you barely made it there.
he bent you over the counter, spreading your legs with a low groan.
âyou trust me?â he asked, voice low and rough.
âyes,â you breathed.
âgood,â he said, sliding in again, slow and deep. âbecause i'm not holding back anymore.â
he fucked you while gripping your hips, your body slamming gently into the counter with each thrust, your breath fogging the cold surface.
âso fucking perfect,â he groaned. âyou were made for me.â
then came the dining table.
you ended up on itâlegs open, arms thrown over your head, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra. he kissed every inch of your body, left love bites on your thighs, praised every moan and whimper you gave him.
you didnât even remember how many condoms you went through untilâ
âfuck,â he muttered, breathless, sweaty. âlast oneâs gone.â
the apartment was thick with heat and the smell of sex. your bodies glistened with sweat, tangled over the polished wood of the dining table. haechanâs chest was pressed to your back, his arms wrapped tightly around you as both of you struggled to catch your breath.
it wasnât until the digital clock on the microwave blinked 4:02 AM that either of you realized how much time had passed.
âshit,â you whispered with a soft laugh, still breathless.
âyeahâŚâ haechanâs voice was husky, worn out, but content. he pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder. âweâve been at this for hours. you okay?â
you nodded, eyes half-lidded, still processing everything. your body felt sore, used in the best possible way, and your heart was floating somewhere between exhaustion and complete peace.
he helped you off the table, careful and gentle now, holding you by the waist as you stumbled a little, your legs wobbly. you both laughed quietly at that, and he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.
âcome on,â he murmured. âletâs clean up and go to bed before the sun comes up.â
the warmth of his bed was a balm against your tender skin. after a quick rinse in the bathroom and slipping into one of his worn shirts, you curled up against him under the covers. his fingers traced light circles on your back as you lay there, your leg thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around you like you were something fragile and precious.
âyou okay?â he asked again, softer this time. there was a hint of vulnerability in his voiceâlike he was afraid this had been too much.
you nodded into his chest.
âiâm more than okay,â you whispered. âi feel⌠safe. and really, really good.â
he exhaled a little laugh of relief and kissed the top of your head. the silence that followed wasnât awkwardâit was peaceful. comforting. like your bodies had said everything your mouths didnât need to.
soon enough, your breaths synced. his hand stayed on your waist as you both drifted off to sleep.
the next morning came slowly.
soft rays of sunlight filtered in through the curtains, painting lazy golden streaks across the sheets. you blinked awake first, still pressed against his warm body. his hand was splayed over your stomach, holding you close, and his legs were tangled with yours beneath the covers.
you didnât want to move.
there was a quiet hum in your chest, that afterglow still lingering like a dream. you turned slightly to look at himâhis hair was messy, lips parted, eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks. peaceful. beautiful.
you shifted a little, and he stirred, eyes barely opening.
âmmm,â he murmured. âyouâre still here.â
âwhere else would i be?â you whispered.
he smiled, still half-asleep, and pulled you closer.
âgood,â he said, voice low and raspy. âi want you right here. just like this.â
you melted into him, your heart full, your body still tingling in places, and thought maybeâjust maybeâwaking up like this with haechan could become your favorite part of any day.
haechan made breakfast in nothing but his boxers, hair still messy from sleep, humming some old song as you sat on the counter, wearing only his oversized t-shirt and the glow heâd left on your skin.
there was laughter. soft jokes. syrup on your lips that he licked off with a grin.
and when you finally curled back into the couch, your head on his shoulder, legs tangled under a shared blanket, it didnât feel strange.
it didnât feel like youâd crossed a line.
it felt like youâd stepped into something deeper.
he looked at you then, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, and whispered:
âyou know⌠i think weâre still us.â
you smiled, heart fluttering.
because he was right.
maybe in the end, sex doesnât ruin the friendshipâ it transforms it.
i mean not really but OH. MY. GOD. this is just so hot and hilarious (im sorry that's what i felt initially during hyuckie's mental war with himself) and funny and SAD and then funny again idk!!!!!!! hot again i love them both????????????? they're crazy and stupid but also smart and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
hi! can i request a story with nct Mark like the movie Flipped, I just love the "she fell first, he fell harder" trope. Y/n is so persistent about showing Mark how much she likes him. Since everyone knows her crush on Mark, the others tease him, which annoys him at some point & told y/n off. Hurt, Y/n kind of distanced herself for a while. During those times she got closer to another member (maybe jeno or haechan), which then makes Mark even more annoyed, not realizing he's actually jealous. Angst slow burn w/ a happy ending. I'm sorry if it's too detailed đ -âď¸ anon
the years that I loved you
summary: you've been secretly in love with mark for years, but he's always kept his distance, even though you've grown closer over time. after a failed attempt to move on with jeno, you realize you canât forget mark. slowly, mark starts to notice his own feelings for you.
pairing: mark x fem!reader
genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn romance, angst, one-sided love, fluff, college au, drama, confessions of love, she fell first but he fell harder trope.
warnings: mentions of unrequited love, emotional tension and angst, heartbreak, love triangle, public embarrassment/confessions, self-discovery and emotional growth.
wc: 12,9k
notes: anon, did you read my drafts or what? because i had this exact idea written down, even with jeno as the romantic interest omg hahaha but i never finished it because i got lazy lol, i'm not really into watching movies, so when i searched for the one you mentioned, i thought iâd have to research it to be able to write about it, but then i remembered i watched it about two years ago haha, looking for inspiration exactly, what a nice coincidence anon, i hope you like what i write <3
you were thirteen when you realized mark lee wasnât just your brotherâs best friend.
he was the boy with soft eyes who always greeted your mom with a polite smile, the one who helped your dad carry groceries without being asked, the one who laughed with jaemin until their stomachs hurt and then turned to youâquiet, awkward youâand asked if you wanted to join them at the convenience store.
he noticed you. always.
and god, that was dangerous.
you kept your secret like it was sacred. folded it between pages of your diary, whispered it into the pillow late at night when your chest hurt with the weight of wanting someone who would never be yours. he was two years older. already shining, already so good.
you thought maybeâjust maybeâhe was too good to break your heart.
you waited until his last day of middle school. you had written the letter three times, burned one, hid another. the final version trembled in your hands as you gave it to him behind the school gate.
âplease donât read it here,â you said, not meeting his eyes.
âi wonât,â he promised, gentle as ever. âdonât worry, okay?â
and you believed him. you always believed him.
but the next afternoon, he asked to meet you behind the gym.
it was quiet. too quiet.
you remember the way he scratched the back of his neck, the way he couldnât quite look at you when he said, âyouâre really important to me. like a little sister, you know?â
you smiled, because you didnât know what else to do. you smiled as your eyes blurred.
and then you criedâugly, shaking, childlike sobs you couldnât hold back.
he tried to hug you, but it made it worse.
he said, âiâm sorry.â
he said, âi didnât mean to hurt you.â
he said everything right.
but it didnât matter.
because you were thirteen, and he was mark lee, and you had just learned that love doesnât always mean something back.
high school didnât make it easier. if anything, it made everything worse.
you tried. god, you really tried to move onâswallowed the ache, buried it deep under textbooks, sketchbooks, extracurriculars. you learned to walk past him in the hallways without letting your gaze linger too long, learned to smile politely when he said âhiâ like nothing had happened, like he hadnât held your broken heart in his hands behind the gym that day and handed it back to you gently, still cracked.
but the problem was: mark never changed.
he was still that boyâsoft-spoken, warm, radiant. the kind of person who made you want to be better just by existing near him. and worse, he was always there.
your house, once a quiet place of safety, had become a second home for jaeminâs band of loud, chaotic friends. most days, the living room was full of snacks, game controllers, and laughter. renjunâs sarcasm echoing through the hall, haechan draped across the couch like he owned the place, chenleâs laugh piercing through every door, jisung awkwardly trailing behind them with his phone glued to his hand. and of course, mark. always mark.
sometimes heâd be in the backyard with your brother, their laughter drifting through the window while you did homework at the kitchen table, pencil trembling slightly every time he called your name to offer you a slice of pizza or a bottle of soda. sometimes heâd walk past you in the hallway and lightly ruffle your hair like he used to when you were twelve, before he knew how deeply you felt for him. before you knew what it meant to love someone who couldnât love you back.
he still smiled at you like you were made of sunlight. still hugged you during holidays, still handed you wrapped presents on your birthday with that same soft voice:Â âhappy birthday. i hope you like it.â
you hated how much you always did.
you hated how his scent lingered on the gifts long after youâd hidden them at the back of your closet. you hated how you still looked forward to seeing him, how your chest still fluttered when he said your name, how you felt thirteen and stupid every single time he was near.
but the worst was that he didnât seem affected at all.
to him, nothing had changed. to you, everything had.
one rainy afternoon, you came home early to find the living room empty for onceâblissfully silent. you kicked off your shoes, soaked to the ankle, hair damp and cheeks flushed from running back from school before the storm broke harder. you turned the corner to grab a towel from the laundry room when you saw him.
mark was there.
he stood by the window, alone, watching the rain. his hands were in the pockets of his black hoodie, hair slightly messy, lips parted in thought. he looked older. softer. like the kind of boy who belonged in a novel, not real life.
he turned when he heard your footsteps and smiled without hesitation. âhey,â he said, like it didnât hurt, like your heart didnât still beat for him in every goddamn way.
âhi,â you managed, holding the towel tighter against your chest.
âyouâre drenched,â he said, walking toward you. âyouâll catch a cold.â
he was too close. you could smell the citrus of his shampoo, the faint vanilla of his cologne. when he reached out to brush a wet strand of hair from your cheek, you flinchedânot visibly, just enough for him to stop, hand frozen mid-air.
âsorry,â he said, withdrawing. âforce of habit.â
you shook your head, stepping back. âitâs fine.â
but it wasnât. nothing ever was.
you escaped upstairs before your voice could betray you.
two weeks later, you found yourself sitting in the second row of the school auditorium, knees bouncing under the dim lights, your palms cold against the fabric of your skirt.
mark was playing romeo.
youâd heard about it from jaemin, of courseâhow their teacher insisted he was perfect for the role, how heâd been rehearsing every afternoon, how the girl playing juliet had been a little too eager during practice.
and now, here you were. watching him on stage under golden light, speaking lines you knew he barely even had to memorizeâhis voice calm, lyrical, achingly beautiful. his every movement was precise, full of emotion. he touched julietâs face like it was made of glass, like she was something sacred.
you hated her.
she smiled when he held her hand. she leaned into him during the balcony scene. you saw her lips part just before the final act, the tension thick in the air as mark cupped her face. and thenâslowly, tragicallyâhe leaned in.
his lips brushed hers. soft. slow. real.
your throat closed.
your chest twisted so violently you thought you might get up and run. but your body stayed rooted in place, forced to watch as they collapsed together on the floor in a mock death, fingers intertwined, her head resting on his shoulder.
the applause was thunderous. everyone stood.
you did not.
you waited until after the show to find him. your feet carried you to the back hallway of the auditorium like they had minds of their own. your heart was a drum, wild and panicked.
he smiled when he saw youâstill dressed in costume, hair tousled, sweat glistening on his brow.
âdid you like it?â he asked, laughing softly. âi was so nervous.â
you looked at him. really looked.
âi still like you,â you said.
just like that.
no warning. no buildup. no sugarcoated version.
you were tired of pretending.
he froze. his smile dropped.
âi thought⌠i thought you were over it,â he said quietly.
âi wanted to be,â you whispered. âbut iâm not. and watching you up thereâwatching her kiss youâi couldnât pretend anymore.â
he looked down. exhaled slowly. ran a hand through his hair.
âyou know i care about you,â he said gently, âbut not like that. iâm sorry...â
same words.
same ache.
different year.
his hands lowered slowly, as if he suddenly didnât know what to do with them. his breath grew deeper, slower. he was about to say something. you were going to let him speak. but before he could, you stepped forward, close enough that he had no choice but to truly see you, to hear you, to feel the heat of your words.
âi donât accept it.â
mark blinked. âwhat?â
you were trembling on the inside, but you didnât back down. âi wonât accept a no. not yet. iâve been in love with you for as long as i can remember, mark. and yeah, maybe youâll never see me the way i see you. maybe youâll never feel the same. but iâm not giving up. because i canât. even if you ignore me, even if you keep looking at me like iâm just jaeminâs little sister⌠my feelings for you arenât going anywhere.â
the silence was a wall between you. thick. breathless. mark didnât know where to look. his jaw clenched slightly. but you saw itâhow hard he swallowed, the way his throat bobbed like your words had tied a knot in it. and then⌠that little flush, that faint blush coloring his cheeks.
he didnât respond. he just dropped his eyes and muttered something you couldnât quite catch before saying he had to get back to the guys.
you stayed behind, again. but this time, something was different.
you werenât broken.
you were alive.
the days after that were⌠strange.
you didnât hide anymore. you didnât avoid looking at him, didnât steer away when he came into your house, didnât pretend it didnât still ache. if you saw him, you greeted him with a soft smile. if he made a comment, you replied with one slightly sweeter. if you were near, you allowed yourself to lean in ever so slightly, as if pulled by something invisible.
mark said nothing.
but he noticed.
and everyone else did too.
renjun was the first to askâjust a casual afternoon in the backyard, you laying on a blanket with a book, the boys talking nonsense as usual. it happened right after mark came back from the kitchen and handed you a water bottle without you asking, like he already knew youâd need it.
âare you guys, like⌠a thing?â renjun asked, half-joking, half-serious.
mark laughed awkwardly. âwhat? no. of course not.â
but you looked up from your book, calm, almost proud.
âi like mark,â you said. not shy, not hesitant.
the silence was immediate.
haechan stopped chewing his gum. jisung stared at you like youâd grown horns. chenle let out a choked âwaitâseriously?â and jaemin⌠jaemin looked at you like heâd just uncovered a secret that had always been in plain sight.
mark tensed. his hand around the empty bottle clenched slightly. he didnât look at you. but you looked at him.
âi like him,â you repeated, voice steady. âi donât know if thatâll ever change. for now, it hasnât.â
the air shifted, thick with something unspoken. jaemin cleared his throat.
âwow⌠okay, didnât see that coming.â
mark let out a nervous chuckle. âseriously, thereâs nothing going on.â
you smiled softly. ânot yet.â
and that was that.
they tried to go back to talking about something else, but the topic hung in the air like perfumeâsweet, heavy, impossible to ignore.
after that day, the looks between you and mark carried weight. not just because of what you felt, but because now everyone knew. his behavior became more cautious, measured, like every move might be misread, like every glance might be taken the wrong way.
but he still looked at you.
he still smiled.
sometimes, he still sought you out without realizing it.
and youâŚ
you kept loving him, even when it wasnât a secret anymore.
valentineâs day hit the school like a storm.
the halls were dripping in pink and red, balloons bumping against lockers, the air thick with the scent of cheap chocolate and desperation. you werenât immune to itâif anything, you were worse.
you had spent the night before in your kitchen, standing over a counter covered in baking disasters, painstakingly melting chocolate, shaping little hearts by hand, writing stupid tiny notes on colorful slips of paper. you stayed up until almost three in the morning, ignoring your motherâs concerned looks, all for one boy.
mark lee.
you didnât half-ass it either. no. you went full force.
you woke up at five a.m. on valentineâs day, backpack bursting with gifts, heart pounding with something between excitement and fear. the moment you got to school, you made a beeline for his locker. you stuffed it fullâletter after letter, pink and red envelopes practically exploding out of the sides. every letter started the same way, "dear mark, i really really like you," and got progressively more unhinged as you got sleepier. one of them ended with a doodle of you two riding off into the sunset on a giant gummy bear. you didnât even regret it.
and then, the chocolates. you had them in a heart-shaped box you decorated yourself, glitter peeling off the sides. you snuck into his classroom early, your hands shaking, and dumped them right on top of his deskâpile after pile of messy, misshapen chocolate hearts, each one lovingly wrapped in plastic and tied with curly red ribbon.
it wasnât subtle. it wasnât graceful.
but it was you.
when mark walked into class later, you watched from behind the doorframe like some kind of deranged cupid. he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the mountain of candy and cards like it might explode. his friends started laughingâhaechan howling loud enough to draw attention from other classrooms, renjun pretending to cry from how beautiful it was, jisung muttering âbroâs got a stalkerâ under his breath while chenle recorded everything on his phone.
mark didnât get mad.
he didnât yell.
he just... looked so painfully polite about the whole thing, his bright smile twitching at the corners, his ears turning an adorable shade of pink. he stood there, awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes scanning for an escape route.
you chose that exact moment to spring.
you practically bounced up to him, heart hammering, face on fire, and blurted out in front of everyone, âmark! i like you! a lot! like, a lot a lot! like, marry-me-under-a-rainbow kind of a lot!â
you didnât know where that last part came from. you regretted it immediately.
mark laughed. this soft, helpless little sound that made your chest ache. he looked at youâreally looked at youâand for a second, you could almost believe he was touched. or maybe just very, very overwhelmed.
"thank you," he said gently, voice a little strained. "youâre really sweet. butâuhâi think... we should just stay friends, yeah?"
you nodded furiously, tears pricking at the back of your eyes, but you smiled through it because you were determined not to make it worse.
"friends! sure! but, like, if you change your mind... i'm available. permanently."
haechan choked. chenle dropped his phone from laughing too hard. renjun whispered âoh my god, sheâs serious,â like he was witnessing a car crash in slow motion.
mark gave you a look, half grateful, half pleading, like he was begging the universe to save him from this situation without hurting you. he patted your headâyour actual head, like you were a golden retrieverâand hurried to clean up the mess youâd left.
the rest of the day, every time you crossed paths, you beamed at him and chirped "i like you!" like it was a greeting. heâd flinch slightly every time, force that damn brilliant smile, and respond with a tiny nod or a mumbled "thank you..." before speed-walking away like his life depended on it.
it became a running joke. teachers started asking him about his âsecret admirer.â students left fake valentines in his locker just to mess with him. he took it all in stride, patient and painfully kind, but you knew deep down it was wearing him out.
still, you couldnât help it. you were in too deep.
when the final bell rang, and you caught him stuffing all your letters into his bag like he was trying to hide contraband, you grinned so wide your cheeks hurt.
maybe, you thought, love didnât have to be perfect to be real.
even if it was one-sided. even if it was a little ridiculous.
your heart still beat for him. and for now, that was enough.
you followed him to university without a second thought.
not because you were obsessed. not because you were desperate.
maybe it sounded crazier when you said it out loud, like some reckless teenage daydream you should have outgrown by now, but in your heart, it had always been simple. wherever mark went, you wanted to go too. so when he decided to major in literature at a university two cities away, you didnât hesitateâyou applied to the same program, you studied harder than you ever had in your life, and when that acceptance letter came, you clutched it to your chest and cried, thinking it was fate smiling at you.
you convinced yourself that it was a new beginning, that maybe, somehow, away from the crowded hallways of high school and the well-worn patterns of rejection and affection, things could be different. you could be different. you could be the kind of girl he might actually look at twice.
but reality wasnât a fairytale, and no amount of shared classes or accidental brushings of hands across desks could change the fact that mark had drawn a line in the sand years agoâand he wasnât about to cross it.
still, you stayed close, orbiting him like a stubborn, quiet moon, your love for him woven into every choice you made, every dream you dared to have.
he was still kind. still soft-spoken and careful with your heart. heâd pull out chairs for you in lecture halls, lend you his notes when you were sick, laugh at your dry jokes when no one else did. he still bought you birthday giftsâcarefully wrapped, always with a little handwritten note in his neat handwriting. still hugged you every christmas. still remembered your favorite snacks and left them on your desk when you were cramming.
but he never crossed the line.
mark lee was a boy of boundaries. polite, good, respectful. especially with you.
especially because of jaemin.
the others âhaechan, chenle, renjun, even jisungâhad started making comments. light teasing when mark waited for you outside your dorm. when your fingers brushed as you passed him a pen. when he remembered things you said in passing and brought them up weeks later.
âjust date already.â
âyouâd make such a cute couple.â
âjaemin would murder you, but worth it.â
but jaemin never laughed. heâd stare straight ahead, jaw clenched, eyes hard.
âitâs not happening,â heâd say flatly. âdrop it.â
and markâmark would just smile and shake his head.
âweâre just friends.â
always the same line. always gentle. always final.
and still, you stayed. because a piece of you still hoped. still wondered if maybe, maybe, something would shift.
until summer.
that was when everything changed.
it started small.
mark smiling at his phone when he thought no one was looking. mark turning down movie nights, saying he was âtiredâ or âbusy.â mark humming under his breath as he walked across campus, like he couldnât help it.
he looked⌠lighter.
brighter.
and he wasnât looking at you.
you found out by accident.
a lazy sunday. mark had left his phone on the coffee table in the shared dorm lounge while he went to grab snacks. a message popped up, screen lighting briefly.
âcanât wait to see you again đâ from: yerim đ
kim yerim.
a girl from another department. bright, confident, everything you werenât.
you blinked at the message like it was written in another language.
your throat tightened. your hands went cold. you couldnât look away.
when mark came back into the room, smiling like he always did, you could barely breathe. he didnât notice the way your gaze dropped. or maybe he did, but he didnât say anything. just offered you a packet of chips like nothing had changed.
but everything had.
by the time the others found out, mark and yerim had been quietly seeing each other for nearly two months.
the teasing stopped.
no more jokes. no more comments. just a strange, heavy silence.
even haechan kept quiet. only once, after a long night out, he said it in a low voiceâwhen mark had gone off to call her, when everyone else was half-asleep on the floor.
âyouâd be better for him.â
you looked up. your eyes were wet. you hadnât even noticed.
haechanâs gaze softened. âbut heâs not ready to see that, huh?â
you didnât answer.
because what was there to say?
youâd loved mark for so long it had become a part of your identity. it was in the way you walked, the way you chose your classes, the way your heart lit up every time you saw him laugh.
but he was never yours.
and now, there was someone else who made him laugh. someone he looked at like that. and the worst part?
he looked happy.
genuinely, radiantly happy. the kind of happy that couldnât be faked.
so you smiled too. you congratulated him. you listened to him talk about yerim with soft eyes and careful words.
and when you were alone, you cried into your pillow, biting down hard to keep the sound in.
because this wasnât betrayal. this wasnât a lie. this was just loveâone-sided, unchanging, and devastating.
you didnât blame him.
you just didnât know how to stop loving him.
you werenât sure when yerim began to notice.
maybe it was the way you went quiet whenever mark entered the room. maybe it was how your eyes never quite met his anymore. or maybe it was something deeperâsomething only another woman could sense. a kind of residual ache, the ghost of something that used to be almost something.
she never confronted you. never threw it in your face.
but her gaze lingered.
a little longer than necessary. a little too perceptive. especially when mark spoke your name.
and markâhe started choosing his words more carefully. his laughter dimmed around you, like he didnât know how to act anymore. like being near you was stepping into a room still filled with the scent of a fire long gone out.
you werenât mad. you were exhausted.
your chest carried the weight of every second youâd spent wishing for something that never existed outside your imagination. youâd painted a fantasy in your mind and clung to it like a lifeline, and for what? he never promised you anything. never kissed you. never called you âmine.â
he was just⌠kind. and you were just stupid.
so when you met lee jeno, it was like inhaling after drowning.
he was part of the sports science departmentâtall, tan, always wearing that damned sleeveless hoodie like he knew the effect it had on people. he had this cocky little smile and a voice that made you pause. and god, he was smooth. but not in a sleazy way.
jeno was bright in a way mark never was. he didnât hesitate. he didnât overthink.
he noticed you from the first time you sat across from him in a shared elective. you were sketching half-distractedly, and he leaned over with that grin that stretched from ear to ear.
"you always draw like the worldâs ending tomorrow?"
you blinked up at him, startled. "excuse me?"
he just laughed. âyouâre good. i like intense girls.â
you rolled your eyes. but he didnât stop talking to you after that. heâd walk you to class, show up with energy drinks during finals, and compliment the color of your nails like it was the most fascinating thing heâd ever seen.
and one day, without drama or overthinking, he just asked:
âgo out with me.â
no hidden meanings. no caution. just jeno, smiling, offering you something real.
you hesitated.
you thought of mark. of his careful hands, his lingering warmth, the smile he used to give you before it all got awkward. but that was the thingâit had gotten awkward. broken. distant. he belonged to someone else now. he never belonged to you.
so you said yes.
after weeks of holding onto a secret that was slowly tearing you apart, you finally decided to give jeno a chance. you couldnât keep pretending like mark didnât already have your heart in his hands, even if he didnât want it. you couldnât keep letting your feelings for him dictate everything, so when jeno, the charming and confident guy from your physical education class, asked you out one day, you hesitated.
you hesitated for a long time, thinking of how many times mark had walked right past you, never once acknowledging your heart, never once looking at you in a way that made you feel more than just his friendâs younger sister.
but this time, it was different. jeno was persistent, and there was a spark in his smile that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could move on. so, after a long conversation with yourself and an even longer discussion with your heart, you said yes. but you werenât going to drag jeno into something he wasnât prepared for, so before you agreed to anything, you told him the truth.
âiâve been in love with someone else for so long,â you admitted, your voice soft, vulnerable. âand i donât know if i can just let go of that... but i want to try. i want to try with you.â
jeno smiled at you, and his eyes softened, like he understood. âi know,â he said, his voice steady. âiâve seen it. but iâll do my best to make you forget about him. iâll do everything i can so that you only look at me the way you looked at him.â
it wasnât a promise of forever, but it was a promise to try. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could start anew. so you accepted, feeling a little lighter, but still carrying the weight of what had once been.
the first few days were like walking on air. jeno was easy to be aroundâfunny, charming, the kind of guy who made you feel like you mattered. when you walked around campus together, everyone noticed. people were happy for you, the long-lost couple that everyone was rooting for. but mark? mark looked like he had swallowed something bitter.
mark had never been good at hiding his feelings, and even if he tried, yerim saw right through him. it had been a few weeks since you and jeno started dating, and markâs behavior was becoming more noticeable by the day. his lingering stares, the way he would look at you and jeno when you walked into a room togetherâyerim had seen enough. she had been patient with him, but there was only so much a person could tolerate.
you caught him looking at you and jeno one too many times, his eyes narrowed and his lips set in a firm line. it made you uncomfortable, the way he would glance at you, then at jeno, like he was calculating something, weighing something in his mind. but you didnât think much of it until the day he pulled you aside after a class, his face clouded with something unreadable.
âhey,â he started, his voice softer than usual, though there was still a bite to it. âi donât think jeno is good for you.â
you blinked, startled. âwhat do you mean?â you asked, confused, but also feeling a knot tighten in your chest. why was he saying this now? after all this time?
mark rubbed the back of his neck, looking uneasy. âi mean... youâre my friend, and i care about you. i just donât think heâs the right person for you. you deserve better than him.â
you could feel your heart racing. âwhat do you know about whatâs good for me or not?â you replied, your tone sharp. âyouâre not my... youâre not my anything, mark. i donât need you to tell me whatâs best for me.â
he frowned, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but he didnât apologize. instead, he sighed. âiâm just looking out for you, okay? youâre... important to me.â
the words stung more than they should have. important to him. you let out a bitter laugh. âimportant to you? youâve barely noticed me for years, mark. donât try to pull that with me now.â
his face shifted, caught somewhere between frustration and something else that you couldnât quite place. âiâm serious, okay? just... be careful with jeno.â
before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling more confused than ever.
but things didnât stop there.
it wasnât just that mark had said what he saidâit was the way he started acting afterward. jeno was around, and whenever jeno was around, mark seemed to get this look in his eyes, like he was watching you two, trying to figure out something that wasnât adding up. he started showing up more, always offering you little things, always asking if you needed anything. he would bring you your favorite coffee between classes, or linger a little longer than usual when he saw you and jeno walking together.
you noticed it. everyone noticed it. especially yerim.
it was one afternoon in the student lounge when yerim couldnât hold it in any longer. âmark,â she said, voice tight, âyouâre doing it again. youâve been acting like this... like youâre in love with her.â
mark froze, caught in the act of watching you laugh with jeno. he opened his mouth to deny it, but yerim didnât let him. âdonât even try to deny it,â she continued. âyouâre constantly around her, always looking at her like you want something more. youâre jealous every time jeno is near her.â
mark looked at her, eyes wide with shock. âiâm notâi mean, no, thatâs not it.â
âreally?â yerimâs voice was sharp now. âbecause it looks like it. youâre in love with her, arenât you?â
the words hung in the air like a weight neither of them could lift. markâs face went pale. he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. then, slowly, he shook his head, almost as if to convince himself.
âno,â he muttered. âiâm not.â
yerim stared at him for a long moment, her expression a mix of disbelief and something more profound. âmark... you canât just keep pretending you donât care about her. youâve been doing it for years, and now youâre pushing jeno away like this. stop lying to yourself.â
he didnât say anything. he just stood there, looking at you as you laughed with jeno, the smile on your face not quite reaching his eyes anymore.
it was the last straw when mark once again casually mentioned your name while they were eating lunch together, and yerim couldnât hold her tongue any longer.
âmark,â yerim began, her voice quiet but firm. âi canât keep doing this.â
mark looked up from his phone, confused. âwhat do you mean?â he asked, trying to mask the tension in his voice.
âthis,â she motioned between the two of them, the table between them feeling like a chasm. âyour obsession with her. itâs becoming impossible to ignore, and frankly, iâm tired of it.â
he blinked, shocked by her bluntness. âwhat are you talking about? iâm not obsessed with anyone.â
âoh, really?â yerimâs eyes narrowed, her tone ice-cold now. âbecause every time i bring something up, you somehow find a way to tie it back to her. last week, we were talking about your plans for the summer, and youââ she paused, shaking her head as if in disbelief, âyou brought her up. again. youâre not fooling me, mark. itâs always about her. iâm starting to think youâre not really here with me.â
mark opened his mouth to argue, but yerim held up her hand, stopping him mid-sentence. âno. donât try to lie to me. youâre in love with her, arenât you?â
the words hit him like a punch to the gut. he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. a flash of memories flashed in his mindâthose moments when your name slipped out of his mouth without even thinking, how heâd catch himself whenever he accidentally mentioned you during their time together.
he remembered the time they were having a casual dinner at a restaurant and he had jokingly said, ây/n would love this dish.â yerim had paused, her fork mid-air, her eyes narrowing. but mark quickly covered it up, offering a distracted smile, as if it didnât mean anything. another time, they were walking through the campus, and he had said, âthis place reminds me of something y/n and i used to do.â yerim had looked at him, confusion and hurt crossing her face, but mark had just shrugged it off. it wasnât anything, he assured her. just memories of a friendship.
but yerim wasnât stupid. and she was done pretending she didnât see it.
âyouâve been so distracted, mark. and iâm over it,â yerimâs voice grew stronger now, the anger finally coming through. âyou donât have the right to string me along while youâre still hung up on someone else.â
markâs heart raced in his chest, the weight of her words sinking in. he couldnât deny it anymore. yerim wasnât wrong, and he hated himself for it. âi didnât mean for it to be like this,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper. âitâs just... y/n... i never meant to hurt you.â
but yerim wasnât having it. she was proud, and she recognized her worth. her eyes flashed with frustration as she stood up from the table, throwing her napkin down with a sharp motion. âit doesnât matter what you meant, mark. what matters is that youâve been leading me on, and iâm done. iâm not going to sit here and pretend everythingâs fine when you clearly canât even give me your full attention.â
mark stood up too, his voice soft, almost pleading. âyerim, please donâtââ
âno, mark. iâve had enough. i need someone whoâs here for me, not for someone else.â she turned to leave, but stopped at the door, her back still to him. âthink about it, mark. because if youâre not careful, youâre going to lose both of us.â
the door slammed shut behind her, and mark stood there in silence, feeling the weight of her words settle in. but before he could process what had just happened, his phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, and there it was againâyour name, flashing on the screen.
a flood of memories hit him all at onceâthe late-night talks with you, the way he had always put you on a pedestal, and how, no matter how hard he tried, he couldnât stop thinking about you. he couldnât stop caring about you. yerim had been right. it had been you, always you.
but that wasnât all. as he sat there, the memories of his time with yerim also came flooding back. the times sheâd gotten upset with him for talking about you too much. he had brushed it off, saying it was nothing, just casual references. but deep down, he knew he was never really there for her. not the way she deserved.
a sharp pain twisted in his chest, and he realized somethingâyerim had always been more than just a girlfriend to him. she was a distraction, a way to cover up the hole in his heart that he refused to acknowledge. but now, everything felt different.
it was supposed to be a day of fun, something to make you forget. jeno had planned a trip to the amusement park, hoping that the laughter, the rides, and the sweet cotton candy would distract you from everything that had been weighing heavily on your heart. he was always there for you, attentive and sweet, trying his best to make you feel special. his hand never left yours, and he had a way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even though you weren't sure it ever would be.
but as the day went on, the fun rides, the silly carnival games, and even jenoâs bright smile couldnât keep your thoughts from drifting back to mark. you tried so hard to push them away, to focus on the moment, on the person beside you who was giving you his all. jeno was perfect. he was patient, kind, charming in ways that made you laugh without even trying. but no matter how much he tried to pull you out of the hole youâd fallen into, mark was still there, lingering in your heart like a shadow you couldnât escape.
it wasnât until you were sitting on a bench near the Ferris wheel, looking out at the glowing lights of the park, that the dam finally broke. tears blurred your vision, and for the first time in a long while, you let them fall. jenoâs hand gently cupped your face, his thumb wiping away the first tear, and then another, as his soft voice reached your ears.
âhey,â he murmured, his eyes filled with concern and something deeper, like he already knew what was happening. âwhatâs going on?â
you shook your head, struggling to find the right words. âi... iâm so sorry, jeno. i thought i could... but i canât. i canât stop thinking about him.â your voice cracked, and the sobs you had been holding back spilled out. âitâs not fair to you. i feel like iâm using you, but i canât... i canât let go of mark.â
jeno stayed quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on your cheek, tender and warm. he didnât look hurt, not the way you expected him to. instead, his eyes were filled with understanding, the kind of understanding that made your chest ache even more.
âyou donât have to apologize,â he said softly, his voice steady and calm. âyou canât force yourself to move on, y/n. you canât just push those feelings aside because you want them to go away. i know that. i wonât ask you to stop thinking about him, or to stop loving him. but you need to realize that youâre only hurting yourself by holding onto something that might never be.â he paused, giving you a moment to absorb his words, his thumb tracing your cheek slowly. âif youâre not ready for this, if youâre not ready for me, then itâs okay. we can stop here.â
his words cut deeper than you expected. you looked at him, and in his eyes, you saw nothing but kindness, the kind of person who would never push you, who would never force you to be someone you werenât. but that only made it harder to bear. jeno was giving you his everything, and yet, your heart was somewhere else.
âjeno...â you whispered, your voice shaking, âiâm so sorry. i wish i could just... let go. but iâm not ready for this. for us. i thought maybe... maybe i could love you. but i canât stop thinking about him. and itâs not fair to you. you deserve someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.â
jeno smiled at you, but it wasnât the smile of someone who was happy. it was a smile tinged with sadness, a resignation that seemed to come from a place of understanding rather than disappointment. he took your hand in his and held it firmly, as if to reassure you that it was okay.
âi knew,â he said quietly, his voice soft but sure. âi knew this wasnât going to be easy. and iâm not mad at you, y/n. iâm just... iâm just glad youâre being honest with me.â he gave your hand a squeeze. âyou donât have to force anything. if you want to keep holding onto mark, then do it. if thatâs what you need to do to move on, then i wonât stop you. i want you to be happy, even if itâs not with me.â
you blinked back more tears, unable to find the right words. jenoâs face was full of hurt, but also full of understanding, and you hated yourself for not being able to give him what he deserved. you loved jeno, you really did, but your heart was still anchored to mark, and nothing was going to change that just because you wanted it to.
âi donât deserve you,â you said through a broken sob, the guilt overwhelming. âiâm sorry, jeno. iâm so sorry.â
âdonât apologize,â he said again, his voice steady and soothing, despite the sadness that lingered there. âjust think about it, okay? take your time. but donât stay in this place forever. donât let yourself be stuck on someone who canât give you the love you deserve.â
you nodded, unable to speak, and jeno, ever patient and kind, pulled you into a gentle embrace. his warmth was comforting, but it also reminded you of the hole in your heart that mark had left behind.
you could feel the weight of his words, the truth in them sinking deeper than anything you had ever felt. he wasnât going to hold you to something that wasnât real, and you hated the fact that it took you this long to realize it. jeno wasnât just someone you could use to fill the gap mark had left. he was someone who deserved to be loved completely, and you werenât capable of giving him that.
as you pulled away, you could see the understanding in jenoâs eyes, and it was that very understanding that made the pain in your chest grow even stronger. jeno wasnât going to hold onto something that wasnât meant to be. and maybe, just maybe, that was the hardest thing for you to accept.
âiâm sorry,â you whispered again, your voice small, broken. âbut i think i need to try with mark. maybe... maybe heâs the one iâm meant to be with.â
jeno smiled again, but this time, it was bittersweet. âthen go for it, y/n. do what you need to do. iâm not going anywhere.â
and just like that, you knew. you had your answer. but the question now was whether mark would ever feel the same way.
the days at university dragged on, each one more suffocating than the last. you had your friends around you, and yet, you felt like you were drowning in the same sea of unresolved feelings. it was a strange comfort to be surrounded by people, but their presence didnât erase the emptiness you felt inside. markâs presence lingered everywhere, like a ghost. even in the cafeteria, you couldnât escape the feeling that something was missing. his silence, his avoidance, it was all becoming too much to bear.
one morning, as you sat at a table with your friends, a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. mark had arrived late, as usual, and took a seat at the opposite end of the table, his gaze distant, his face blank. the usual chatter buzzed around you, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air. the others seemed to sense it too, noticing how quiet everything had become since the both of you had entered the room.
haechan, always the one to try and lighten the mood, leaned back in his chair, his grin wide and teasing. âso guys, whatâs going on here? someone want to spill the tea?â his tone was playful, but there was an edge to it that made it clear he wasnât fully joking.
you felt your stomach twist, but before you could respond, mark shifted in his seat, his fork tapping against his plate. the room grew unnaturally quiet, the teasing atmosphere fading into something more uncomfortable. markâs voice broke through the silence, his tone so flat it was almost impossible to read.
âyerim⌠she broke up with me,â mark said, the words coming out without any emotion, almost like he was just stating a fact. it wasnât a confession or a cry for sympathy, just an acknowledgment of something that had happened.
the table fell completely silent. everyone, even haechan, froze, unsure of what to say. it was as if the air had thickened, and no one dared to move or speak for a moment. you kept your eyes fixed on your tray, unable to meet anyoneâs gaze, though you couldnât help but sneak a glance at mark from the corner of your eye.
he was eating his breakfast now, like it was just another normal morning, his face emotionless. but you could see the small, almost imperceptible signs of tension in his posture. his shoulders were a little more rigid, and his hand gripped his fork a little tighter than usual. but he said nothing more, and the others didnât press him for details.
renjun, ever the curious one, broke the silence by shifting in his seat and looking directly at you. âwhat about jeno?â he asked, his voice soft but probing.
the question hit you harder than expected. it was like everyone had just been waiting for you to talk about it, to explain what had happened between you and jeno. you hesitated, biting your lip as you considered how to respond.
âi⌠i ended things with jeno,â you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended.
chenle raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. what? you were just starting to get into it. why would you stop now?â
you shrugged, feeling a lump form in your throat. âi wasnât prepared for what he needed.â
another silence filled the room, heavier this time. you could feel their eyes on you, but you didnât dare look up. the tension in the air was suffocating, and you could feel it building up around you like a thick fog. it wasnât just the conversation that was uncomfortableâit was everything that had been left unsaid. the way mark kept his distance, the way you couldnât stop thinking about him, the way you couldnât shake the feeling that things were never going to be as simple as they once were.
you stole another glance at mark, your heart tightening at the sight of him. he was still eating, his movements slow and deliberate, but you could tell he was aware of the conversation. the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flicked toward you for a fraction of a secondâit all spoke volumes. but he said nothing more. he wasnât going to make this easy for you. he wasnât going to chase you or beg for your attention. it was always like this with him, wasnât it? he had this way of making you feel like you were the only one who cared, while he remained distant, unreachable.
as you sat there, feeling the weight of the silence press down on you, you realized that maybe you werenât the only one who had been avoiding the truth. maybe mark was doing the same thing. maybe he, too, had been holding back, pretending that everything was fine when it wasnât.
and then, as if on cue, mark glanced up at you. his eyes met yours for just a moment, and for the briefest of seconds, you saw something in themâsomething raw, something vulnerable. but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the same mask of indifference he wore so often.
you couldnât stop yourself from feeling the ache in your chest, the pain of wanting something that wasnât yours to have. you didnât know what this meant, what the silence between the two of you meant. but it hurt. it hurt in ways you couldnât explain.
suddenly, mark stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, and without a word, he grabbed his tray and walked away, leaving the table in stunned silence once again. you didnât know if it was his way of shutting everyone out or if he was simply tired of pretending that everything was fine.
haechan glanced at you, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. âwell, that was... something,â he muttered.
but you didnât respond. you couldnât. all you could do was sit there, surrounded by your friends, but feeling more alone than ever before. you didnât know what would happen next.
but you did know one thing: nothing was going to be the same again.
mark never liked to admit it, but the words yerim had said earlier echoed in his mind like a loud, unwanted reminder. "you're in love with her, aren't you?" he couldn't shake it. the way she confronted him, the certainty in her voice, it felt like she was peeling back layers of something he didnât even know he was hiding. he tried to brush it off, told himself he wasnât like thatâhe couldnât be. you were his friend, his best friendâs sister, and he had always kept a distance for a reason.
but the more he thought about it, the more it hit him. the way his heart reacted when you gave him those letters, when you filled his locker with chocolates youâd made yourself, and when you said "i like you" so casually, so boldly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. mark could still feel the warmth in his chest when he read your letters. he could still picture the way youâd smile at him, your eyes shining with a hope that made him feel both uneasy and... strangely content. it made him feel things he couldnât quite name.
he had always kept his distance, tried to maintain the line between friendship and something else, because he knew it was wrong. but what if it wasnât? what if everything heâd told himself about not crossing that line was just an excuse to avoid the truth? there were moments, fleeting but intense, when he felt your gaze on him, when he felt you watching him more than anyone else, and it made him ache in ways he didnât understand. it was subtle, but it was thereâyour attention, your small gestures that spoke louder than words.
and mark... mark had never been one to ignore someone he cared about. he would remember the smallest things about youâyour favorite color, how you liked your coffee, the way you hated the cold but still insisted on walking with him outside when it was freezing, just because you liked the fresh air. he noticed these things, even when he told himself it was just concern, just the instincts of a friend. but now, in the silence of his own thoughts, it became clear: he was lying to himself.
it had never been just friendship. he was always there when you needed him, always paying attention to the little things that mattered to you. he didnât know when it started, but somewhere along the way, those small acts of kindness had shifted into something deeper, something more complicated. and now that yerim had pointed it out, it was impossible to ignore.
the worst part? he didnât want to. he didnât want to admit that he was falling for you, that the thought of seeing you with someone elseâa guy like jeno, someone who actually understood you in ways he never couldâmade him feel this... discomfort, this jealousy that gnawed at him, something he hadnât ever expected to feel. it wasnât like he hated jenoâno, he didnât. he was a good guy. but the idea of him being close to you, of him holding your hand, of him kissing you... it made mark want to break something, even if he didnât understand why.
he remembered the first time you told him you liked him. it had been so simple, so direct, and yet, it had left him shaken. "i like you, mark," you had said, and his chest had tightened. it wasnât the confession itselfâit was the way you said it, the sincerity in your eyes, the lack of hesitation. you made it sound so effortless, like it was no big deal. but to him, it felt like the world was shifting beneath his feet. he had tried to laugh it off, tried to brush it aside, but he couldnât stop thinking about it.
and now, as he sat there, the realization hit him full force. yerim had been right. he was in love with you. and it scared the hell out of him.
he had always tried to convince himself that it wasnât anything more than friendship, but the truth was staring him in the face now. thisâhis attention to you, the way he always found a reason to be near you, the way he knew things about you that no one else didâit wasnât friendship. it was something else. and as much as he hated to admit it, it was something he couldnât control anymore.
mark let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment. he didnât know what to do with this feeling. he didnât know how to face you, knowing this now. he had tried so hard to keep things uncomplicated, to keep the walls up, but somewhere along the way, they had crumbled without him even realizing it.
and then he thought about the way youâd looked at him this morning, about the way youâd still found time to check in on him, even though you were moving on with jeno. he hated it. he hated how much it hurt to see you with him, how it felt like he was losing you to someone else. but what could he do? he couldnât just throw away the bond heâd spent years building with you. and yet, now that he had started to realize the truthâthat he, maybe, maybe... loved youâit felt like everything he did was too little, too late.
mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration rising in his chest. he was an idiot. he always had been. and now... now you were slipping away from him. and maybe it was for the best. maybe he didnât deserve you.
but god, did he wish he could change everything.
the professor of your writing class, a serious man with a gaze that seemed to read the minds of his students, made an unexpected announcement at the start of the class. there was a new activity, a group project where you had to work with a "superior," as he called it, to learn more about the challenges and demands that came with quality writing. as if it wasnât enough, the professor began mentioning names, and when he got to yours, it wasnât just any name.
"y/n," he said, his eyes locking with yours for a moment. "i know you all know mark lee. so, he'll be your partner for this task. iâm sure you'll learn a lot from him."
the entire class turned to look at you, and the blush immediately crept up your neck. they all knew you liked mark. it was obvious to everyone. a murmur spread across the tables, and a small ripple of laughter echoed in the air. your heart raced, and you could feel the tension building. you froze for a moment before quickly trying to compose yourself.
"after this class, iâll be heading to markâs group. so, iâll let him know," the professor added, barely noticing your discomfort. it was as if he had done this before, pairing you two without a second thought.
the rest of the day felt like it was dragging, and even though you tried to distract yourself with the usual distractions of university life, everything felt off. your thoughts were heavy with mark. you had been in the same place so many times before, but now, it felt different. this wasnât just any task; this was going to force you and mark into the same space, the same moments, and you didnât know how to handle it.
later, as you met him in the university library, the tension was palpable. everything felt too familiar yet too strange. you hadn't been so close in so long, and now you were working on something that required your attention.
at first, there were small, careful interactions. you would look at him briefly, and heâd turn away, pretending to focus on the task. but soon, those little moments started to build.
one evening, you were sitting together at a table in the library. you were writing, trying to focus on the task in front of you, but mark was watching you, the air around you both charged. the quiet hum of the library didnât help the feeling building between the two of you.
without realizing it, your hand brushed his as you reached for the same book. your heart jumped in your chest, and you both froze. he looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. when none came, he slowly took your hand into his, his fingers curling gently around yours. you didnât pull away.
you continued to write, trying to act like nothing had changed, but every single brush of his fingers against yours made your heart race. mark, in his usual composed way, didnât say a word. he just adjusted in his seat, took a deep breath, and continued flipping through a book with his free hand.
but you couldnât ignore the feeling. your heart was pounding, and every moment felt too intense.
markâs touch, his attention, was starting to feel different. the physical closeness, the subtle interactions, they were all making you feel things you didnât know how to process.
one night, as you worked late on an essay, you were sitting in the universityâs shared house, with mark next to you. the house was quiet, but the air between you two was anything but.
as you wrote the final paragraphs of your essay, mark casually placed his hand over yours, like it was the most natural thing in the world. you froze for a second, then continued writing with your other hand. he didnât let go of your hand, though. he just sat there, quietly turning the pages of his book, but his attention was completely on you.
you could feel the warmth of his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the back of yours. you were trying to focus, but everything inside you was screaming.Â
what was happening between you two?
the moment felt like it would last forever. your heart raced, and your stomach twisted with nerves. the way his hand felt against yours, the way you couldnât stop thinking about himâit was all becoming too real. slowly, as if testing the waters, mark squeezed your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment that you were still there, together.
you tried to act normal, but the intensity of the moment was almost too much. you didnât know what this was, but it felt like it was something more than youâd ever expected.
and as the days went by, you found that you were no longer just working with mark. you were starting to feel something again, something that wasnât just based on your past feelings, but something that was growing stronger every time he smiled at you, every time he reached for your hand, every time his voice got just a little bit softer when he spoke to you.
you were starting to realize that you were falling for him all over again.
mark sat alone in his room that night, the moonlight spilling through the window as he stared at the pages of his book without really seeing them. his mind kept drifting back to the moments he had shared with youâthose small touches, those fleeting glances that made his heart skip a beat. it was impossible to ignore the feelings that were starting to bubble up inside him.
why does it feel like this? he thought. this wasnât supposed to happen.
he remembered when you first started writing him those letters, how you didnât care that others saw, how you openly told him you liked him. at first, it made him uncomfortable, and he didnât know how to react. but now, looking back, he realized it had always been more than just a casual thing for him. you had always been more.
mark sighed as he recalled those moments when he would catch himself thinking about you in class, or how his eyes would follow you around the room. itâs not just concern, is it? he thought. i care about you more than i ever wanted to admit.
he thought about how he would remember the little thingsâlike how you always smelled like lavender, how you would always bite your lip when you were concentrating, how youâd laugh at the smallest jokes. he knew you so well. but why hadnât he realized it before?
mark leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. itâs not just worry... itâs something more. his heart ached as he realized the truth, and it was almost too much to bear.
he was falling for you.
the days passed in a soft, almost imperceptible way, but mark could feel the change. it wasnât loud or obvious, but it was there, lingering between you two like a quiet hum. at first, the moments were small â a brush of your fingers as you passed him the pen, a shared smile when the professor made an awkward joke, the way he always seemed to look for you in the crowded hallways. you had grown so accustomed to each other's presence that it felt almost natural to be together, even in silence. but there was a difference now.
he was aware.
mark noticed the way you would glance at him when you thought he wasnât looking, the soft curl of your smile when he said something funny, or the way you always tried to be near him. he noticed the little things, things that before he might have brushed aside. it was easy to pretend that it was nothing, but deep down, he couldnât ignore it anymore. you were changing something inside him, something he wasnât sure how to handle.
they started to get closer, working together more than the project required, as if there was something magnetic pulling them together. late nights in the library, sharing the quiet, with nothing but the sound of papers shuffling and soft footsteps on the floor. the way mark would sneak glances at you when you werenât paying attention, the way his hand would linger near yours when you passed the pencil over to him. it was simple, tender. there was no rush, no hurry â just a slow, steady burn.
one evening, as you both sat at the same table in the house, the quiet between you two felt charged with something unspoken. mark had just handed you a book youâd asked for, his fingers brushing yours for a moment too long. you felt it, and so did he.
"youâve been quiet," mark said, his voice low, almost thoughtful. "thinking about the project, or⌠something else?"
you glanced at him, feeling your heartbeat quicken. "maybe both," you replied, your voice soft.
mark raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "you know, itâs funny. weâve spent all this time together, but i still donât think i know everything about you."
you smiled, trying to play it cool, but inside, you were nervous. "what do you want to know?"
he didnât answer immediately. instead, he leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. "i guess⌠i just want to know how you see the world. the little things that make you⌠well, you."
you blinked, taken aback by the question. it felt oddly intimate, like he was asking to know you on a deeper level, not just as a classmate or a friend, but as something more.
"thatâs⌠a lot to ask," you murmured, your cheeks flushing.
mark smiled, his gaze softening. "maybe," he said quietly. "but i think⌠i think youâre worth the effort."
the way his voice sounded made something tighten in your chest.Â
you didnât know what it was, but you felt it â that spark, that connection.
and so it continued, these quiet, intimate moments between the two of you. each one made the feelings grow stronger, but neither of you acknowledged it outright. there was no rush. this wasnât about forcing something, it was just about being together, in whatever way it worked. a slow, steady love building like a quiet storm.
finally, the day came for you to present your project. everyone had gathered in the lecture hall, seniors and juniors alike. the professor was setting up the papers, his usual stern expression softened by the anticipation in the room. the seniors were all whispering among themselves, and you couldnât help but notice how mark sat just a little too still in his chair, his eyes occasionally glancing over at you.
the professor cleared his throat, signaling that it was time. "alright, y/n, mark â itâs your turn. please come up and present."
you stood up, your heart beating a little faster as you walked up to the front, your palms sweaty. mark was beside you, his presence oddly comforting, though you could feel the tension between you two. you werenât sure what to expect, but you knew that something was about to change.
mark didnât speak right away. instead, he took your project, carefully setting it down on the desk in front of the class. you watched as he stood behind it, adjusting his posture and looking around at the gathered group. for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, then he cleared his throat.
"before i present this," he began, his voice steady but with a certain softness that made you pause, "i think i should talk about something else."
your stomach dropped. what was he doing?
the professor, who had been prepared to listen to a formal presentation, now looked intrigued. "mark?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
markâs gaze shifted to you for a moment, then back to the class. he was taking his time, choosing his words carefully."this is a story about someone i came to know. at first, i didnât think much of it. she was just someone i worked with, just another student. but as time went on, i began to notice little things. the way she always smiled, even when she was exhausted. the way she laughed at things that most people would have ignored. the way she always tried to be better, even when she didnât have to."
mark paused, and you felt your heart race as your eyes locked with his. his voice had a strange warmth to it, and the room seemed to hold its breath as he continued.
"i donât know when it happened, exactly. it wasnât a moment â it wasnât like i suddenly realized. but i know that one day, i found myself thinking about her when she wasnât around. and when i looked at her, it felt like i was seeing something⌠something that was more than just a person. it felt like i was seeing a world, a life. and i wanted to know more, to be close to her, to understand who she was."
mark looked at you then, his gaze soft and steady. "this person⌠sheâs not just anyone. sheâs someone who changed the way i see things, who made me realize what it means to care about someone. and i think, somewhere along the way, i realized⌠i was falling for her."
you felt your breath catch in your throat.Â
he was talking about you.
there was a stunned silence in the room. even the professor looked taken aback for a moment, his mouth slightly agape. mark continued, the words flowing from him almost effortlessly.
"this might not be the most professional presentation," he said, his voice now more playful, "but itâs the truth. and i think⌠thatâs the most important part of any story."
the professor, still recovering from the surprise, gave a small chuckle, but quickly regained his composure. "well, mark," he said, "that was⌠certainly unexpected. but if after all that, you donât present the real work," he said, raising an eyebrow, "iâll have no choice but to fail you. and your partner."
mark smiled, but you could see the playfulness in his eyes fade. "donât worry," he said softly, "the real work is here." he turned, pulling the actual project from under the desk and placing it in front of you. "y/n, itâs all yours."
you couldnât help but blush, your heart still racing from his words. the class was silent, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. markâs confession had left an unexpected warmth in the room, and for a moment, it felt like everything had shifted. everything felt different.
the rest of the room buzzed with whispers, the air thick with the lingering tension. you felt the weight of the moment heavy in your chest, but you were frozen, unable to move. markâs words had completely caught you off guard, and now, as he stood there, his usual confident demeanor had softened â there was a vulnerability in his posture, a quiet but undeniable sincerity in the way his eyes met yours.
for a second, everything felt out of place, like time had slowed down just for you two. your heart was pounding in your ears, and yet, there was a part of you that was oddly calm.Â
this was real.
this moment, this confession â it wasnât just a dream.
you glanced around the room, meeting the eyes of your classmates. some of them looked just as stunned as you, others had the tiniest smirk tugging at the corners of their lips, and the professor, still slightly in shock, was scribbling something on his notepad, probably to process what had just transpired.
mark cleared his throat, his eyes still on you, waiting for a response. but you were too overwhelmed to speak. you just looked at him, taking in the moment, trying to find the words that seemed to be stuck in your throat.
the warmth from his words, the honesty in his voice, left a tingling sensation in the air. but as much as you wanted to hold it together, the words he said, the way he looked at you â it was too much. the feelings you had buried so deep, the longing you had hidden, began to spill out uncontrollably.
your hands shook as the tears began to well up. you couldnât stop them. they fell freely, a mix of relief, sadness, and love all at once. the room fell silent, everyone staring at you. and you knew. they all knew. but now it was your turn to finally say it out loud, to let go of the fear of rejection.
"iâve always loved you, mark," you whispered, your voice shaky, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "iâve been in love with you for so long, thinking i was just some fool. but... i canât hide it anymore."
you looked up, your vision blurry with tears, and there he was. mark, standing before you, a mixture of surprise and something softer in his eyes. he didnât seem shocked, but there was something in his gaze that said he knew. it wasnât a revelation to him â he had always known.
âiâ i donât know what to say, but... thank you,â he said, his voice low but sincere. âthank you for loving me all this time. for waiting. for staying. i... i had no idea. i didnât want to admit it to myself.â he paused for a moment, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "but now... i get it. iâm starting to understand what i feel, and itâs... you. itâs always been you."
your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might fall apart. but markâs steady presence kept you grounded. he was here, and he was saying things you had longed to hear for so long.
âiâm sorry it took me so long to figure it out,â he continued, his voice quiet but filled with so much emotion. "iâve been... holding back. afraid. but now, i canât hide it anymore. i like you. i like you so much. iâve been trying to pretend it was something else, but itâs you. itâs always been you."
your heart raced, your chest tight, as his words sank in. this wasnât just a confession from you anymore. it wasnât just about what you had been feeling. mark felt the same way.
âthank you for loving me,â he whispered, his hand reaching out slowly to take yours. his fingers brushed over your skin, sending a wave of warmth through your body. âitâs my turn now, to love you back. for real.â
you blinked, a soft gasp escaping you, and the tears came again, this time in a different way. not from sadness, but from the overwhelming emotion of knowing that after all this time, mark was finally letting himself feel the same. finally.
âyou donât have to thank me,â you whispered, still trying to catch your breath, but your chest felt full, the emotions swirling inside you, making it impossible to think clearly. "i just needed you to know how i felt. i... i never thought youâd feel the same."
mark smiled softly, stepping closer until his chest was almost pressed against yours. âi do. i really do. and iâm not going anywhere. i want to be with you, if youâll let me. no more hiding. no more pretending."
your heart soared as you looked at him, standing so close, his eyes full of honesty. you had waited so long for this, and now it was happening.
âi want that too,â you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "i want to be with you, mark. always."
mark nodded slowly, his hand resting gently on the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears. "then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice warm and soft, a promise in the words.
the world outside seemed to disappear as you stood there, together, finally on the same page. no more hiding, no more pretending. just the two of you, taking the first step toward what you both knew could be something real.
days passed, and the universe seemed to shift around you. mark and you were no longer just two people who shared silent glances and unsaid words. now, you were together, the air around you both full of something new, something beautiful. but not everyone understood it right away.
you and mark sat together in the cafeteria, just the two of you, laughing quietly. the others were around you, but it was as if the world had faded, and it was just the two of you in that small bubble. you could feel itâthe connection, stronger than ever.
haechan, sitting across the table with jisung and jaemin, eyed you both with an exaggerated glance. his expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement. he leaned toward jaemin and sighed.
"i never thought i'd see mark being all... cheesy and love-struck like that," ahechan chuckled, nudging jaemin with his elbow. "i swear, he's practically glowing."
jaemin, who had been quietly observing, just shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "yeah, well, mark's always been that way when it comes to her," he muttered, already knowing what was coming. "took him long enough, though."
meanwhile, jisung, still looking grumpy about something, crossed his arms over his chest and shot a look at chenle. "you know what this means, right? iâm gonna have to give you 100,000 won now."
chenle grinned like he had won the lottery. "told you they'd get together eventually," he said with a teasing wink, clearly proud of his bet-winning skills.
jisung grumbled, staring at his half-eaten sandwich. "i hate you. i canât believe i lost this bet."
"itâs not like you had much of a chance, anyway," chenle teased, laughing.
jaemin just sighed, shaking his head as if he already knew what was coming. "this was inevitable," he muttered under his breath. "mark was always going to fall for her. he just took his time."
you glanced at mark, your hand casually resting in his as you both shared a quiet smile. it was the kind of smile that said everything without saying a word.
renjunâs voice broke the moment. "so, when's the wedding?" he joked, but there was warmth in his eyes. "mark's acting like he's already head over heels. never thought i'd see the day."
markâs cheeks flushed, but he squeezed your hand gently, his eyes soft. "iâm just taking my time with her," he said, his voice full of affection.
you laughed, your heart soaring. it felt right. this was real.
and though everyone around you may have teased and joked, you knew deep down that this was only the beginning. you and mark had found something special. something that, despite the slow burn, had bloomed into something beautiful and undeniable.
âso,â ahechan continued, looking at the two of you with a teasing grin, âwhen do we get to hear about your first official date?â
you turned to mark, your heart racing in your chest. "maybe you should wait for that one," you said with a wink, âbut... itâs gonna be worth it.â
the group burst into laughter, and markâs hand tightened around yours, his smile the brightest thing in the room. because no matter what anyone else said, you and mark had finally found each other, and nothing else mattered.
i actually watched the movie years ago and i may have to give it a rewatch.... or not? because this one right here is an instant fav. this is enough for me. i'm very much aware of the premise, of the synopsis, the title itself, what to expect, and everything else but that did not make me calm down at all....... did not stop me from wishing i could just get inside this story and perhaps give mark a huge smack or two idk lmao i do admire the mc's bravery and resilience whew