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[like-supercute]

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him? 

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan. 

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.” 

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks. 

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were. 

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough. 

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.” 

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms. 

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents. 

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs. 

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.” 

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship. 

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him. 

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most. 

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man. 

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life. 

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else. 

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.” 

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?” 

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.” 

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.” 

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.” 

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house. 

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it. 

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass. 

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress. 

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking. 

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!” 

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.” 

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt. 

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches. 

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge. 

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…” 

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck. 

“Mark��and Y/N?” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck. 

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.” 

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel. 

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.” 

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further. 

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.” 

“Ask Mark,” is all you say. 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over. 

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated. 

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.” 

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched. 

You smile. 

part two | part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month. 

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already. 

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home. 

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas. 

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―” 

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is. 

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously. 

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship. 

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan. 

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.” 

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress. 

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though. 

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her. 

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.” 

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!” 

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room. 

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you. 

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks. 

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects. 

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland. 

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues. 

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs. 

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―” 

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in. 

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier. 

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered. 

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree. 

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.” 

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?” 

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?” 

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing. 

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.” 

“So, what did he do?” 

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort. 

“What, he cheat or something?” 

“Worse.” 

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker. 

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.” 

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?” 

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key. 

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.” 

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him. 

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness. 

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.” 

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend���maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge. 

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge. 

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here. 

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.” 

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind. 

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.” 

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically. 

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.” 

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.” 

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.” 

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

.

.

.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you. 

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents. 

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working. 

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you. 

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face. 

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together. 

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you. 

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out. 

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers. 

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled. 

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks. 

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?” 

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing. 

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag. 

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?” 

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage. 

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss. 

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging. 

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face. 

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.” 

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.” 

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him. 

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!” 

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner. 

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye. 

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.” 

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you. 

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes. 

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time. 

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ll call an Uber or something.” 

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset. 

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in. 

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him. 

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?” 

“Me.” 

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.” 

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore. 

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise. 

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer. 

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him. 

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber. 

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body. 

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly. 

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing. 

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.” 

“Sorry. Please proceed.” 

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear. 

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice. 

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register. 

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.” 

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly. 

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away. 

“That is, until he met you.” 

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it. 

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck. 

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.” 

You smile. 

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.  

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark. 

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way. 

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up. 

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.” 

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.” 

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him. 

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to. 

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet. 

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux 

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :(  ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

[like-supercute]

M.I.L.F. (Make It Last Forever) ― L.DH

Haechan, a favorite among classy wives to hire during the hot summer season for a nice, thorough pool cleaning, seems to have a favorite wife of his own.  You.  Or the one where Haechan was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need. 

minors dni 

PAIRING ― lee haechan  x afab milf!reader  

WORDCOUNT― 18.9k

CONTENT―  age gap: reader is 31  and haechan is 24, milf trope/single mother reader, college pool boy haechan (turned part time babysitter), reader has 1 kid and haechan really wants to give her another, reader has morals!! haechan just doesn’t see it as a moral issue, he is actually very sweet 

!WARNINGS! ―  age gap, haechan is somewhat of a manipulator, he’s gentle but won’t take no for an answer. dub-con in one instance. major breeding kink and kind of a mommy and daddy kink (domesticity), angst regarding reader and her ex husband, reader has huge tits 

NOTE ― this was written for jay from enhypen over on my other blog, but i am gifting it to you guys here as well! I WROTE THEM BOTH!!!! NOT PROOF READ.

nsfw tags under cut

nsfw tags― thick big dick haechan, small instant dubious consent, tit obsessed haechan, groping and grinding, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, cum stuffing-ish,pussy eating, fingering, basically it’s haechan doing stuff to you,  this ain’t smut this is making love, also reader doesn’t shave her coochie and haechan fucking loves it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having a stray eye isn’t typically something you afford yourself when it comes to men. Things tend to change with time though, that much you know is true. 

It was proven to you for the first time when your ex husband decided to up and leave you three weeks before your due date for a woman–well, girl, fresh out of highschool. Years of trust and promises crushed with just a single sentence and a slam of the door. Time must’ve changed you for him to leave so heartlessly. Time must’ve changed him to become so cold. 

 It was proven again when you were able to heal despite never believing you could. Seconds of pain turned to minutes, to hours. Days. weeks. Months. Years of pain before being able to wake up and feel somewhat numb to it all. Like a flip switch in your head that told you that you can be happy now even if as a single mother. After all, the hard part was over. 

It took some four to five years, but it did happen. Time did change you, it healed you, it matured you. As your child grew, so did you. And for the better, you think. You count your blessings of living a life far more lavish than you ever could have anticipated given the circumstances that had been thrown at you. Even to the point of nesting, wanting another child, wanting a big and happy family. But alas, your ex husband had better things to do. 

At the end of the day, you’d never be able to call this home yours if you had stayed with your ex husband. He didn’t like this kind of “flashy” lifestyle, and to him, everything you wanted seemed too flashy for him. Perhaps he was right to some extent, as you recognize the brand name goods you now own, solely because you had promised yourself in the depths of your despair that you’ll get to a point in life where you can buy yourself everything you not only need, but want. So, here you are, owning an expensive home, in a nice neighborhood, with a nice car and a nice pool. 

Your daughter has everything she could want and need too, aside from a sibling, it’s certainly still more than what you had growing up and it’s all because of you. A fully decorated bedroom drenched in glitter, purples, creams, yellows, and pink, her favorite color. All sorts of play houses, costumes, dolls, a few lego sets, and even some plastic swords and knives for the days she wants to pretend to be her favorite movie characters. Clothes she can grow into, and a nice little fund building up for her as she grows up. Her first car, college, help for a downpayment on her own first house. 

Both of you have everything you could ever want or need and for that, you’re so proud. Especially knowing your husband would have never believed you could make it this far without him. Still, despite having everything you could ever ask for, there’s something in you that feels empty.

Time changes things. 

Time changes a lot of things, you note more than usual, as the man you’ve been ogling for the past three weeks makes himself far more known to you than you ever wished he would.

The interaction with him was always so quick before today and given the fact that he was a complete stranger, you never quite invited him into your home considering–you know, small child and all. You had hired him over text. Haechan, your neighbor said his name was. His handsome features didn’t offer you anything more than a clean pool and a wandering eye. 

Your neighbor apparently has a friend who has a cousin that has an even nicer pool than you do. Given, it’s only a nicer pool due to the fact that this young man, Haechan, tended to it weekly and made damn sure it could be drunk out of if a person had a craving for chlorine. 

You feel like an idiot now that it didn’t dawn on you quick enough. Sure, he looked a bit familiar to you but who doesn’t when you’re always out and about seeing so many different faces on a daily basis? His name, Haechan, didn’t ring any bells. Now though, the shame of staring at his sweaty pecs and biceps came crashing down the moment you realized who Haechan actually is. 

He didn’t do a damn thing to remind you either, if anything, all he did was walk around all sweaty in the afternoon heat with his tank top either sticking to him, or off entirely. It appears that you had just been too busy running errands with your child, considering his shifts were always when you were home. Too busy cooking, cleaning, reading, lounging. Too busy looking at…well, not his face. 

Too busy to give the man a glance more than that of a slice of pie behind a bakery window. 

Haechan. 

Since fucking when was that his name?

“Lee Donghyuck.” You whimper near mortified, three weeks too late as you hand him his pay with nervous hands. “Spray-cheese in my hair Donghyuck?” 

“Ah, was wondering when you’d pick up on that.” He smiles at you with that crooked grin, a knowing look that any man at a bar would give you if he had caught you checking him out. Then, he pockets the hefty amount of cash that you hand to him. “I go by Haechan more often these days.” He trails off, an amused smirk half-falling as he looks at your expression of realization. “You can call me whatever you want though.”

He’s well aware of how often you’ve checked him out since he started intentionally taking his clothes off. After all, it’s mid-july by this point and the sun baring down on him doesn’t quite call for a fucking turtle neck sweater. Or a T-shirt, or a tank top, for that matter. It calls for all skin baby, beautifully tanned and toned for you and any of your neighbors to look at if they so wanted to. 

Haechan doesn’t work out for nothing, after all. Summer after summer, he’s found himself to be quite fond of the rich women that hire him for their pool services. Always wanting an attractive young man to wander around half naked and satiate their lack of sex life with their husbands, or boytoys, or what have you. He knows all that extra pay isn’t because he does a good job either. He’s gotten winks, small comments, even a few offers of his body for more pay.

He’s turned them all down, of course. For a full-on affair, anyway. Haechan has gotten a few blow jobs and quickies as a tip before though, and a lot of that is why he keeps getting referred to more women. Richer women. Never single women. 

Until you. 

He quite enjoyed catching you looking at him. Especially given the fact that he knew exactly who you were when you introduced yourself to him via text. That little childhood crush on you came back within an instant upon actually seeing you again. Truly, he had forgotten all about you up until that fateful day three weeks ago. 

If he’s being honest, he’s been pining something fierce since he first stepped foot on your property. Excitement swelled inside of him just to see you again. To see if you’re still hot, to see how you’re doing, what you’re doing. How your life is going.

 He knew you didn’t recognize his nickname through text, and he definitely knew you didn’t recognize him to be eating him up with those eyes of yours either. So, he played along, enjoying it while he could before it would inevitably dawn on you. Still, he remembers you so well from back then. Crazy to know that he rarely thought of you for the past twelve years or so, and how all those little butterflies of his came back in a far more mature way. He was only twelve back then, but he’s a man now. 

Twenty four and perfectly sound as a man who knows what he likes. The fact that you happen to fall into that category is no fault of his own, honestly. It’s your fault if anyone’s at all. Haechan is a man that likes a specific type of woman too. Woman. Not a girl, not a young lady, not a free spirit, nor a prude. He is drawn to the idea of experience, to the idea of settling down. It’s not easy to find that at his age, in college, surrounded by party girls and casual drug use. 

And, well, imagine his smile upon seeing your lovely, lavish home with the large pool, no ring on your finger, a whole fucking child, and your motherly instincts when you buckle her into the car for an errand. Oh and the broken fence in the far back of your yard.

You’re a single mom. 

A hot single mom who lives lavishly. One who could probably use a man’s help around your house.

He half expected you to be able to recognize him when he appeared for work the first time. He even had a monologue in his head on what to say to you, and how to present himself. You didn’t seem to take notice though, introducing yourself to him as if you hadn’t spent all that time in his childhood home when you were a teenager. Like you never mothered him, or put him to sleep with the soft stories when you let him watch all those scary movies before bed. Even at twelve, he was a scaredy cat.

 Clearly you’re too busy experiencing life to notice the way he fawns over you too. Hating how you’re more reserved than the other lavish, fixed-up women. You seem to have standards, or maybe it’s just priorities ... that's so hot. Truly, it only makes him want you more because by now, the other women would already be rubbing all over him. The ones who shouldn’t be wanting him the way they do. So, yes, he’s always stealing glances at you with sparkling dark eyes, fantasizing in his head that this pool is his to clean now, because that’s what a good man would do for you, right? With him around servicing your pool and lawn, you’d never need to hire or spend money on another broke ass college student again.

Yes. That’s how quickly he fell into this infatuation solely because you looked at him like you want it without realizing who he was. Hell, without realizing how perfect you are in terms of what he wants.

God, how are you still single? 

Like, why do you have a child and a house so beautiful without a man wandering around doing all of this work for you? Not that you couldn’t do it on your own, it’s just, you clearly have the means to make a man do as you please. Why haven’t you?

You happen to fall almost perfectly into the categories of what he’s looking for. Save for the fact that now you recognize him as that kid you used to babysit rather than the man who tries to be sexy while cleaning your pool. Which is a fucking shame, if he’s being honest, to be written off as that same ten year old child rather than a fucking man who very clearly has needs and desires. 

The point is– Haechan wants you and he parades around your pool for you to look at him. So what if you used to babysit him? It’s not like you’re an old swamp-hag trying to lure him with candy. You’re just…a woman. And he’s just a man. 

“Well, thank you for cleaning again,” You trail off in an awkward tone, shifting your eyes to anywhere but him. He watches you though, smiling a smile you know all too well from his childhood antics. It must mean something different now, or maybe not. “I guess I’ll see you next week?” 

“Well, actually,” Haechan offers, “Would you be opposed to���” You cut him off instantly with an awkward wave of your hand.

You don’t know why you make assumptions, maybe from that damned smile on his face, but you do recall your ex husband reminding you time and time again that it’s one of the things he hated about you. 

Assumptions. Always thinking the worst, or perhaps the most filthy of situations and expressions. To be fair, you feel guilty about how you’ve been looking at him, you can’t help but panic trying to pretend like it never happened, and that he never saw it happen.

“I’m not interested, Donghyuck.” You respond hastily, pressing your thumb to your bottom lip to bite the skin on it, keeping your eyes away from him with the awkward words. After all, he knew who you were this whole time and paraded around like that? 

Even before recognizing him yourself, you know men well enough to know when they’re trying to flaunt. Is it so wrong to assume?

“Interested in what?” Haechan tilts his head knowingly, seeing the way you buckle under the guilt of staring at the very man you used to tuck into bed every night. He can see the way you try to push those sexual thoughts you had away in the quick rejection to a simple assumption. 

 “I was just going to ask if you want me to fix your fence.” 

Ah, you did get ahead of yourself through the guilt, and you’re far too aware of it as you draw your eyes back to him and note the expression on his face. Amused, maybe a bit of concern in his eyes, even? 

“Ah, um–” You start, trailing your eyes down your fence line never once noticing a break in it. Haechan is quick to point though, leaning to you with a whisper of “right there.” And well, you did not need to hear that tone in his voice the way you just did.

God, it’s so awkward.

“Well, how much would that cost me?” You question with an empty voice, staring at the broken fence. 

“Free.” He uses the same tone, leaning away from you now and smiling wide. “That is, if you provide lunch.” 

Well, despite the awkwardness, that break over there would cost you a pretty penny to fix, and your daughter needs the safety of playing in her own yard without random animals or worse, people, making their way in. Plus, you’re quite fond of saving money. How else would you be here if you weren’t good at it? And now, given that you’re most definitely not interested in Haechan, what's the harm in making a few sandwiches for someone you already know well enough? It’s not like you’ve never made him lunch before.

The awkwardness will pass and your guilt will subside. You both will laugh at it over a cold glass of iced lemonade, surely. It’s not like you realized who he was anyway, it’s not like you’re just gonna keep looking at him like that. You should just push forward and it’ll all be fine. 

“Hell, I’d even watch the kiddo so you can have a break every now and then.” He watches your reaction, wanting to ask so many questions about why you’re single, who the father is, where he is, why he isn’t here. “After all, I learned quite a bit from you.” 

For a second you consider that too.

And there’s three reasons as to why you should. The first being that you were literally just looking for a new child care facility due to learning of the staff coming to work while sick. Your poor daughter came home with a fever just last week, and you’ve had little luck in finding a place with the same educational benefits for her. 

The second being that, well, while you’re not hurting for cash or anything, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to put a little more back for her college fund. Or for fun little vacations. 

And lastly, despite your guilt of lusting over someone you shouldn’t have, you know Donghyuck and you know his family even better. No background check would be needed, your daughter could be in the comfort of her own home rather than a classroom setting that she’s sure to see for at least twenty years of her life in the future. 

So, yes. You consider it instantly, and Haechan sees it. 

You only know of the childhood version of him and, well, the slutty pool-side version of him apparently. If only you knew of that other side of him and how fond he is of watching his own younger cousins. How good he is with children, and how much he clings to the idea of being a father one day.

Haechan is great with kids, with or without them having a hot mom.

And well, he knows that he’s fond of looking at you at least. Besides, as long as you can work with his class schedules, he’d be willing to do just about anything to play pretend-husband, even if you’re unaware of it. 

“Is that so?” You finally ask, curious eyes looking at him with a furrowed brow. “Shouldn’t you be out living the life? College parties and such?” You add, wondering why such a great deal has managed to flop down on your lap. The idea of even cheaper childcare without the risk of unvaccinated children, and sick caretakers being far too good of a deal to pass up. 

“Well, yeah I guess.” He shrugs, leaning backwards to stretch and roll his shoulders. “Not really my scene though. I have classes Monday and Wednesday all day, Tuesday and Thursdays my classes are online. If you can work around that, I’d rather just be making money and chilling.” 

You think about it just for a second more when he continues. 

“I can be here on weekends too. Maybe you should be the one out relaxing and having some drinks.” 

“Well, I don’t quite need that, or for you to be here on weekends.” You think as you say it, knowing you have given up on going out to try and meet men two years ago. “I could pay you though, let’s say, thirty an hour?” 

Well, shit, that’s not too bad at all, especially considering he’s about to give up on cleaning the pools of a few women in his contacts for this. It’s a major pay cut, but still enough to get by comfortably if you’ll have him multiple times a week. That plus the pool cleaning money? And free lunch? 

“Oh, you don’t go out at all? I don’t see why not, could probably get a man in no time–” Haechan ignores the wage offer and pushes to note the singlehood he had been noticing for the past three weeks. “and the pay is fine.” 

“Ah, well, the dating pool isn’t so great in this neck of the woods.” You scratch the back of your neck when you say it. “That aside, I'll have her in day care on the days you can’t be here, but it really would be a big help. Thank you for the offer, Donghyuck. And for the fence too.” 

He watches you with a firm nod, shoving his hands into the pockets of his basketball shorts, still entirely shirtless in front of you. 

“And the pool.” You add quietly after a moment. 

“I think you’d be surprised about the dating pool.” He smiles as he pushes the subject back to what you had previously said, hoping you believe those words before continuing. “So, when do you want me to start?” 

“Is tomorrow too soon? You’re okay to set up here with your online classes?”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” He smiles.

“I’m sure she would be so happy knowing she won’t be going to daycare–” You clap, feeling a bit less awkward despite the boldness of the man in front of you. You’re sure he’s just teasing you for knowing you checked him out. “I know I am.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a little too perfect, actually.

After that first day of watching your child and making a lazy attempt at “fixing your fence,” he’s settled in like it’s home. He wishes it was, with the lavish lifestyle in a house far too pretty compared to his own living space with piles upon piles of laundry he’s too lazy to pick up for himself. 

It’s different for you though. Different when he’s here.

Truly, he feels like he’s living the life after a couple of weeks with decent pay and a comfy space to do his homework. He watches your child, which is arguably the hardest part of the job but she’s well behaved for him. In fact, she seems to have taken a shine to him.

He’s starting to be very intentional with taking far too long to work on your fence too, and still maintaining your pool. He’s trying to drag this out for as long as he can. Even if just to see if you still look at him when you come home the same way you did before recognizing him. You never do though. When his shirt is off and he’s wiping his forehead in the sun, you don’t look at him anymore.

Hell, he’s even considered breaking things in your home just to give himself more jobs to do. More things that make him feel needed, like a husband. More things that you thank him for fixing, even if it breaks again two days later.

And ah, the food in your fridge is always free reign to him, that large television in the living room too. God, sometimes he dreads going home, and by sometimes, he means all the time. Who in their right mind would ever fucking want to live outside of this lifestyle? He really can’t believe you’re single, nor can he believe that he has the opportunity to be in your home, close to you. It shouldn’t take too long now to convince you, right? That you don’t necessarily have to be single? That you need him around to live even more comfortably?

In short, Haechan is in his head about how he’s practically just roleplaying as your stay-at-home husband before having to go back to his shitty little apartment and remind himself that he’s just a fucking college student with no interest in the people on campus. And like, even with the way you come home from work, all groggy and exhausted on the days he’s there, you always thank him before giving him his pay. What he likes best about those nights is when you’re too exhausted to even pay him and you promise to do it next time.

In his mind, that’s you promising to see him again. 

He could give less of a shit about the pay at this point, as long as he gets to be in this house, smelling your favorite candles and dish detergents, seeing you, being a semi-father to a child who deserves more love than the two of you combined can give…he’ll fucking do anything you want for free. 

It’s difficult sometimes, like he really can’t help it. Some days wandering around this house and imagining how the two of you could have landed on buying it together. How the rooms would be organized if he were here from the start. Claiming his spot on your couch like any dad would. Playing dolls with your daughter, laughing with her, letting her paint his nails and put his hair in little pigtails. He even cleans your pool as if it were his own, meaning, he genuinely cleans it. 

He has taken it upon himself to mow your lawn, confusing the yard workers that you apparently hired years ago. Did he accidentally fire them? Maybe, but any good husband would save you money, right? He checks your mail, waves to your neighbors and lets them make assumptions. 

And every single fucking night it’s harder and harder to go back home.

Especially after a full day of playing dad then seeing you come back so tired. Turning off that switch in his head isn’t easy. He wants to greet you like the husband you don’t have. He wants to ease your hard days in so many ways. Tell you he’s proud of you, that you still look so pretty after an exhausting shift of whatever the fuck you do. He wants to serve you dinner, run you a bath, fix your hair, lay you down– oh, he’s fantasizing again. Unfortunately, he has to settle with seeing the relief on your face when he lets you know in a soft voice that he’s cooked dinner and he will heat it up for you before leaving, kiddo is in her room sleeping, no dishes in the sink, and laundry is folded and put away. 

He loves the appreciation in your eyes, and sometimes even sees a glint of sadness. He can tell you wish you had this from a person who isn’t here for pay. Someone who loves you, and loves your child, and feels joy in making your life easier. 

Fuck, if only you knew. 

And  you’d be lying if you tried to say Haechan isn’t a godsend to you on the days he babysits. Many times you find yourself wishing he’d just move in and do everything that you can’t do. You’d pay him well, give him a guest room, whatever. But it’s just…not viable to support a full time employee like that, nor is it fair to your daughter. 

She needs a parent, not a paid college student who needs some extra cash. You have to be that parent, you have to make time for her and witness all of her joys in life. You have to protect her and never bring in faces of men who claim to want to be a father, only to run and break her heart more than your own. 

For now, you settle with this godsend of a little shit you used to babysit. Still you can barely believe that’s the same person, but again…time changes things. And thankfully, the awkwardness of what you did has died down drastically.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Today, you’re more thankful for Haechan than you have been previously. After a heavy workload has been lifted off your back with the approval of this project, you need a night out. For the first time in years, you’re giving yourself a night out, all because you have someone you can trust to be here for your daughter.

He was so understanding when you called,  happy to come over right then and there to put her to bed and mostly just house-sit for the night. Even without an end time for him, and even without asking for extra pay, he just…accepted with an understanding tone and that stupid breathy chuckle he gives to you when you ask for favors. “What? You need me there right now? I’m putting on my shoes.” He had said.

It’s the fact that now, as he sits on your couch looking at you in your chosen outfit– he seems a little off. Maybe it’s because you asked him where the best spots in town are because it’s been so long since you’ve gone out, or maybe he just feels awkward seeing so much skin on your body. 

To be fair, he didn’t realize you were going out out. He thought that maybe you were gonna go stay with a friend to celebrate and have a drink or two. 

In reality though, he’s just awestruck. Already you look great even after your busy days at work but…this is a different level. The way your tits look in that push-up bra and tiny ass top, when he’s used to seeing you head out in some sort of business casual outfit without an ounce of skin showing save for your ankles or wrists…jesus. He’s struggling more than usual to keep himself calm around you, hopping up on one leg when you walk away to try and adjust the chub in his pants, and releasing a small sigh before you’re looking at him again.

His skin feels like it’s on fire knowing you’re going out looking like that.

“You sure you're okay to sleep over? I figure it’ll be easier since I’m not sure when I’ll come home, or if I come home.” You smile with a wink, your stomach in knots over the two shots you’ve taken for the first time in years. “I can call my friends and tell them not to come if you’d rather focus on your studies.” 

Haechan shakes his head, waving his hands in defense for you as if he didn’t just see the way your tits bounce and squish against your shirt with each move you make. 

“No, no! Go on, have fun.” He says, encouraging you to go out despite hoping you come home with no luck of finding a man out there. 

Just, look at you. Fuck, he’s staring again. He hates knowing that he could be one of the guys at whatever bar or club you’re landing on tonight. He could be the person that makes sure you don’t come home, getting to plant his face right there. He could be whatever you want him to be if you’re looking like that. 

But no, he has to play husband again, which is normally something he’s all too excited to do. Tonight though, he feels like a fucking cuckold. After everything he does for you, after not mentioning how you’ve skipped a few of his payments, after slaving away for hours over your pool, your household chores, fixing and breaking that fucking dishwasher, cooking you dinner every single night he’s here just to make sure you have a meal when you get off of work…you imply you may not come home tonight?

And you’re dressed like that?

And you’re…

God, you just look so good right now. It pains him to know you didn’t dress like this for him, the only man who cares enough to make your life easy. He’s not mad at you, per se, but he’s pissed that you don’t see him as an option despite showing you time and time again that not only is he an option, but the right choice. 

This is what you look like when you want to impress a man? This is how you act? How you talk? Fuck, god, fuck– maybe he’s just too deep in his one-sided roleplay but it really, really fucking feels like he’s watching his woman go off and look for someone else to fuck.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” You smile, walking over to him with a saunter in your step and a gentle smile across your lips. 

He’s never heard you speak his name so sensually, the way his cock twitches forces him to wince away from you. He’s never even seen you saunter before. Fucking hell, somehow it feels worse seeing you act like this after how many times he’s imagined it, all alone in his room. 

A slow walk from you, with the strap of your shirt slipping off your shoulder, fat tits threatening to spill out, lifting the hem of your skirt, or dress, or whatever you’re wearing in his fantasy at that point. Your voice, so soft, so sexy. And you’re practically bringing his fantasy to life right now, except he knows you’re going to fucking walk away from him like this. Into the fucking arms of some random dude at a club. 

Probably some loser he’s seen on campus too.

“It means a lot.” You add, popping a quick, platonic kiss to the top of his forehead. 

Ah, lip gloss. That little kiss on him is enough to ignite him to the point of no return. He almost wants to skip the part of asking you not to go and straight up just beg that you pick him, that you choose him. It’s not just your home, or the luxuries that come with it. It’s you that he wants. You’re the fucking luxury and you’re just gonna go to some sticky-floored club and pretend he’s not clearly checking you the fuck out right now? Like he’s not about three seconds from dropping to his knees just to see you from the angle you deserve?! 

“It’s no problem.” Haechan relents, dropping himself onto your couch instead and adjusting his body to sink deep into the cushions just to keep himself from arguing against everything he’s giving you permission to do right now. 

Hah. Permission.

“Be safe.” He adds in an even more monotone voice. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

And god, he seethes in his thoughts after you close that door and hop into the car with your friends. You don’t look like a mother tonight, and he wonders if you’ll be upfront and forward with anyone you intend to hit on too. Probably not. He’s well aware of the men in this city, after all, he’s one of them.

It’s really not something he can control after seeing you like that either. Your child is already in bed and he’s just sitting here on your couch with a throbbing, fucking weeping cock thinking about you. What’s stopping him from taking care of it? You’re not here, after all. 

You’re not fucking here. But everything about you is. 

And that’s how he finds himself in your bedroom for the first time, barely making it a foot into the room before closing the door and dropping to the floor. The scent in your room is different. It’s feminine, gentle, like the energy is kissing him all over and sending goosebumps straight to the head of his cock. He couldn’t even pull it out, already holding his breath with his hand down his pants, vigorously trying to get what he wants so badly yet knowing that his hand will never compare to you. 

And it’s here where he feels like a husband. Spilling against his pants with a silent, choked back sob as he stares forward at your bed, and the way you didn’t make it this morning. It’s messy, and he wants to be in that mess of sheets with you more than anything. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Haechan hates that he’s now forced to get used to your late night ventures. Every weekend now. Every. Fucking. Weekend.  You ask if he’s willing to stay over so you can go unwind, and despite his better (or worse) judgment, he accepts. The only solace he finds in these ventures is knowing you consistently come back home right after usual closing times, and you’re mostly sober. Sometimes a bit whiny that you’re not lucking out, worrying that maybe you’re too old now, or maybe you’re just not as desirable. There have even been a few times where you’ve exposed your ex husband during your rants, giving Haechan little hints to follow as to why you’re single, and how he left you. 

Still, he knows in your tipsy state that you usually wouldn’t talk about these things with him, but he’s all too happy to get the details once you come home. Mostly because it calms his rising rage at how you’re doing this to not only him, but yourself. It’s mostly because you’re technically coming home to him though. 

And every single time, you go back to your bedroom to grab his payment even though it could wait until morning, considering he’s been sleeping in the guest room– all he can think about is how he’s been in your room. He’s gotten off countless times by now by the smell of your room alone, still barely able to even reach your bed to lay in it himself for a better experience. God, he’s probably memorized each little fray in your carpeted bedroom floor by now with how much he’s zoned out on it mid-jerk off session right there on his knees at your door. 

He’s truly pathetic for you. 

This time though…three in the morning has passed and normally you’d have been stumbling through the door an hour ago. Normally, he’d be fighting back the need to tell you that you’re beautiful, not too old, and entirely desirable. Normally, he would be fisting his cock again in your guest room before sleep, getting off on the idea that he can cum in a house that you live in, smothered by the sheets you meticulously picked out to match the walls of the room. Moaning for you, practically crying for you to let him do it all. 

Have you really done it this time? Gone off with some man? Are you getting railed right now in some hotel, or car, or someone’s shitty man-cave? God, his mind is racing, both aroused at the fact that you must be horny to be constantly wanting to go out like this, but equally as devastated because like…he’s right here.

Who the fuck cares if you babysat him? He’s a man. No longer that child who sprayed cheese in your hair or dumped salt into the bag of sugar. He’s a fucking man, cooking you dinner when you work, parenting your child, cleaning your house, maintaining your pool and fence….He does everything for you, why the fuck don’t you see it?!

Click.

Haechan’s ears perk up instantly at the sound. He sits up on the couch from his depressed slump of scrolling through his phone, quickly fixing his hair and clearing his throat. 

In you stumble, right into the little entryway table with a whisper-scream of “Shit, fuck–”

Haechan looks at your state before standing to his feet and rushing to you, helping you balance on your feet despite your footing not quite being grounded even with his help. You lean on him closely, letting out an alcohol scented sigh. 

His nostrils flare as he holds his breath, feeling your tit press against his arm, smelling the drinks, the sweat, and the dulled perfume on you. Then, a hint of something else. Musk. 

You’ve been with a man. 

He holds back a gesture at the way you lean on him. Nothing more he could want at this moment but to hold you tightly and tell you that he’s got you, despite the panic in his stomach at the way he sniffs out another man. Out of lust, love, desperation, frustration. This is the closest you’ve been to him for this long. You feel clammy and cold, a clear indication that you drank far, far too much. Your tank top is sticking to you, your eyes are a bit glassy–

“You’re late.” He says shortly.

“Late?!” You raise your voice before looking at him with drowsy eyes, furrowing your brow. “I don’t have a curfe-”

“Shh–” He shushes you, helping you get to the living room. “She’s sleeping and you’re going to have her make a fuss about waking up.”

You giggle to yourself as he drops you onto the couch, now aware that yes, you are not a single college student anymore. You’re a single woman. A fucking mother. 

You should’ve just gotten a hotel for the night and slept there to dream a little longer. 

“Right.” You laugh, slouching, spreading out wide against the couch and trying to fix your gaze on him. “Why’re you still awake?” 

Haechan fixes his eyes on you, swallowing around a lump in his throat. The way you’re slouching…seemingly forgetting that you’re wearing a skirt and basically flashing your panties at him. God, the things could do to you right now. The things he could get away with if he wanted to. He tries to shake those thoughts for now, and instead, inspects you from head to toe.

He’s never seen you look so relaxed. Chest raising and falling with each breath, hair a little messy, lipstick stains smeared on the outsides of your lip line. He chooses to ignore the faint swell against your neck indicating someone has been sucking on you. But, well, he can’t ignore it. Both his cock and heart aches at the very thought.

“You’ve been kissing?” Haechan tries to ask nonchalantly. 

“A lot more than that–” You smile, feeling a flush cross your cheeks before the disappointment hits you square in the gut. 

Haechan watches your face fall, and he mimics it by falling onto the couch and sitting by your head…you know, allowing you to lay your head on him if you want to. You’d probably not notice his arousal anyway, given your state. 

“Oh?” He asks gently, the disappointment now showing plainly on not just your face, but his own.

“Thought I was gonna go home with him, turns out he decided to be done after a blowjob in the parking lot.”

Oh, the way his blood boils. Not for the fact that you were used or rejected, but for the fact that you found someone that you were interested in and genuinely intended to leave your home life in his hands for however fucking long. Really? Just gonna leave him here all alone? Like he couldn’t do better for you?

“It’s for the better–” Haechan says as he shivers with irritation, struggling to keep his facade up. It’s definitely not what you wanted to hear, and definitely not what you’d have expected to hear from a college guy at all either.

“This happened last time too, except he didn’t even get me to the parking lot.” You huff, unaware of how much you’re sharing right now. 

He bites back the anger yet again, inhaling deeply before releasing a calming breath through his nose just to contain it. So…it has happened more than once? 

“Why don’t you let me take you out someday?” He says suddenly, well aware that you’ll probably never remember he said it in the first place. 

If anything, he’s testing the waters for his own sake. He’d hate himself forever if he didn’t at least take advantage of this moment a little bit. 

“Then who will watch my daughter?” You respond in slurred speech, not even comprehending who it is that’s asking you this question right now. Not even thinking about your history with him, or the family ties. 

He, on the other hand, is quite entertained by the way you don’t bring the history up like he expected. His cock twitches at it, bumping your head just a bit, not enough for you to notice apparently. Fuck, it would be so easy for him to pull it out right now, and just…tap your lips with it. 

Maybe you’d even open your mouth for him. 

“I’ll skip class on a Wednesday, we can go while she’s still in daycare.” He continues through an almost-moan, encouraging the conversation to stay positive.

“Donghyuck–” You slur before clearing your throat and sitting back up in a dizzy show of how drunk you are. “You know I can’t do that. It’s too weird.” 

In all fairness, you know he has like…a thing for you. After all, why else would a college dude be spending his weekends here babysitting your kid? It’s not like you haven’t noticed the way he checks you out before you go out for the night. Why would he do all of this if he didn’t have some sort of attraction to you? Sure, you’re taking advantage of it as best as you can despite how you didn’t recognize him at first. 

Despite how deep down, you very well know how attracted to him you are too. 

“Only because you make it weird.” Haechan rolls his eyes as he looks at you, spreading his legs out to adjust his comfort, noting the way you glance down to his lap and see it. “I’m a grown man–” He starts, spreading his legs wider, pressing his cock against his pants to the point you can practically see the outline.”you know this.” He continues, trying to be bold now by reaching forward and moving a strand of your hair from your cheek. 

“You’ve seen it.”

You freeze, suddenly feeling entirely too sober to be talking about this kind of thing with him. With Donghyuck. God, his mother would fucking kill you if she found out he’s in your house while you’re out trying to get fucked by whoever is willing to love you temporarily. 

Haechan sees you thinking though, and continues to take the advantage now that he’s feeling brave. Now that you’ve seen the twitch in his pants and haven’t moved off the couch, or told him to go home. 

“I saw you watching me when I was cleaning your pool, multiple times.” He whispers snidely. “You stopped when you realized who I am. Why?”

“Donghyu–…” You trail off. “You know this isn’t okay. What would people think of me? There are rules, and I will not go down this route with you.”

A rush of air hits your face and suddenly, warmth hits your cheek. You feel him so close, closer than ever before. It’s dizzying. Haechan is over you, hovering with one hand ghosting over your hip. 

“You want to though, don’t you?” He gets even closer now, darting his eyes down at your chest and unable to pull them away. “Knowing how good I am with your daughter? How well I clean up? How strong I can be–”

You swallow hard. For a moment, you almost lean into him. You almost melt right then and there, the need for intimacy so heavy inside of you after being left high and dry, knowing that you’d accept it from just about anyone at this point. But– this is Donghyuck. You can’t. 

You really, really, can’t. 

The look of disappointment in his eyes kind of hurts when you’re pushing him away. That playful smirk falling faster than you think your sanity did the day your ex husband left you. 

“This–” You pause, realizing all too well how he’s used your drunken state against you for this conversation. “This is your last paycheck.”

“I don’t think so.” The smirk is back now, except…it’s different. “You know I promised her a Barbie dream house next weekend.” He smiles fully now. “She’s a bit attached, you know, even called me dad by accident the other day.” 

You’re shocked. 

“She…what?”

“You know she’s attached to me already, don’t be selfish.” Haechan shrugs at you while rolling his eyes, leaning against the couch again and turning his head to look at you. You try to pretend that you don’t see his hand slightly groping himself. “Guess she misses having a father around. Can’t be too easy for her, especially with her mom going out every weekend trying to fuck guys who would run the second they learn about her.” He ticks his tongue now, as if he’s pitying you more than your daughter. 

“Donghyuck, that’s not–”

“That’s not, what?”

“That’s not what I’m doing…” You lower your voice to a near whisper, upset that you couldn’t even enjoy the drunken state you came home in, now feeling entirely too sober, and a little sick in the stomach. 

“Oh, so you haven’t gotten laid since I’ve been here–” He leans closer again now, trying to resume what he was going to do just moments ago. “They haven’t even touched you, have they?” His hands move to your thigh and presses down as if to hold you in place. “Why?”

“I try not to just sleep with anyone.” You lie, knowing you’d sleep with anyone just to feel wanted for once. And you’re trying to ignore his hands on you right now, trying desperately not to like it. It’s the first time a man has touched you in this house since your husband left you. As expected, you almost feel your knees buckle despite sitting comfortably. “I have to be careful, you know?”

“Mm, I know more than you think.” He leans into you, hovering yet again with his upper half over you as he whispers it. “Don’t need to be careful around me though.” He adds, this time trailing his voice right against your jaw, up to your ear. “You must be so frustrated.” He ghosts his lips there for a moment, waiting for you to push him away, or say something, anything, really. 

“Why would I be frustrated?” You lend the smallest of whispers, feeling the goosebumps against your skin rising at the mere thought of giving in just this once.

“Not having anyone to please you.” He adds now, landing a very slight kiss right under your lobe. “Always being used for someone else’s pleasure, maybe?”

You almost nod, feeling weak in your state and thoughts swimming with what if’s, morals, and anxieties. You’re frozen in place despite knowing a simple push would create the distance you need to breathe. 

“Your fingers will never be enough, will they?” He continues, essentially chaining you to this couch with his words alone. You can’t help the fight in your head, you need to feel wanted, and you want so badly to feel needed. “I bet you wish someone would love you for all that you are, not all that you have.” 

It’s silent as you feel his lips press down again, this time moving his body over you almost entirely. You can feel the couch dip a bit as he places all of his weight on a knee, moving his other leg to stand between yours.

“You must need someone to fill that hole in you by now, right? That pussy of yours?” He continues, his tone a bit more snide now as you give in to his hold with shaky breaths. 

And truthfully, Haechan has never let himself come on this strong towards someone before. Usually the wives are doing this to him. They’re trying to convince him, encourage him. He’s so fucking horny right now though, with that daze in your eye, your legs spread around his knee, blinking up at him like a cheating wife. As if you want to apologize, as if you need him to forgive you. Need him to make everything better.

“I heard you the other day, you know, talking to your mom–” He smiles, tilting his head to look into your eyes, seeing a small shine in them. “You want another, don’t you?” He continues, moving his lips now just over yours as he, now, presses you firmly against the couch. “You must hate knowing that I’m the only person who can do that for you.” 

“God, Haechan.” You immediately buckle, not realizing how suddenly he’s not Donghyuck at this moment. He’s someone else. He’s Haechan.

“Why don’t you go for girls on campus?! Don’t you have parties to be attending on the weekends instead of being here, trying to parent my chil–”

“Lower that voice of yours,” He whispers, eyes now hooded as he looks at you. “You know she’s asleep.”

God, he’s right. 

“Besides, why would I want them when I have you right here under me–” He tilts his head. “Looking so disappointed that you like it, too.” 

Right then, your moral code shines into the front of your mind at the consideration of giving in.

A weight on one shoulder chanting, “No! What would people say?! What would people think?!”, and then little to no weight on the other shoulder, echoing in a sweet song of “Finally! Someone who will love you! Finally! Someone! Finally!!! Finally!” 

You pause, not knowing at all what to do. Your body wants to push him away, even your mind and soul wants you to push him away. But you know deep down, you’d only push him away to see if he will try again. No man has ever tried for you like this, and you need more of it. 

To feel desired after so long of neglecting this side of yourself, it’s enough to make a person lose their footing in reality. To give in to just about anyone willing to look at you the way he is right now. It’s the fact that you go out to try and find it, and even with this alone, Haechan has satisfied you more than any stranger promising to make you cum.

“I…don’t know what to say–” You stutter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” Haechan smiles, glancing at your lips before meeting your eye again. “Why not hand over the reins and relax for a–” His hand dips under your skirt, cupping your sensitive cunt in one hand alone. “Ah, I knew it.” Then, his other hand finds purchase on your chest, lifting your heavy breast in his hand with a blatant, hard squeeze.

After a sharp inhale you look away from him in shame, afraid to admit it despite the truth of it leaking through your panties and onto his palm.

“Wet.” He smiles, no longer looking at you but flicking his eyes back and forth from between your legs, and to your chest. Still, he fumbles around the wet spot, wanting so badly to lift these fingers to his mouth and taste. He’s fantasized about it, about how you’d taste, how warm it would be, what your pussy would feel like against his fingers–

And just as he’s pushing your panties to the side, pads of his fingers touching right where you need them with his eyes hooded and watching you closely, something snaps.

You push his hand away, only to feel him push back, holding you down with more force, gripping your tit tighter, sliding his fingers in before massaging the slit with a blatant moan on his lips. Then, you try again, shoving him back only to hear him chuckle and continue his antics until– you jump to your feet. It felt too good, too grounding to have him touching you like this. You nearly stumble back over the coffee table, but you manage to stand tall and firm despite the fact that even though your mind feels sober, your body is fucking wasted.

“Donghyuck.” You argue immediately, using his name the same way you did when he was a child. “Stop.” 

He throws his hands up in defense, raising his brows in surprise. 

“I–” He pauses, staring at you. “I thought you were enjoying it, my mistake.” 

It’s the fact that you were. You were enjoying it too much, and there would have been no defending your actions if you had given in to the feeling. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. That’s what you are. 

Your ex husband was right all along. Out of everything you’ve accomplished since your heart was shattered, ripped to shreds, stomped on, you’d think it would take a lot more to break you. 

“You ask for too much.” Your ex husband had said once. “You can’t even stand to be alone for one day.” He had said a year or so later. Small digs on who you are and what you need sprinkled into small arguments, only to come more and more from the lips that you kissed and promised to kiss until you die. Until all of his words were to make you feel inadequate. Until everything he said to you stuck with you, forcing your confidence to bury itself six feet under. 

Are you to blame? As it stands, maybe. Why else would you be allowing yourself to consider it? Consider Donghyuck, you mean. Never in your life would you have considered him of all people to be the one that you need. 

Never in your life would you have thought he’d be interested in a woman like you, in a situation like yours, with a child. Why did that night with him stick in your head more than every single mean thing your ex husband said to you? Why did his words seem more believable? 

Because you were drunk at the time? Wet, neglected, and drunk? 

Then why is it that you’re sitting here on your day off with your beautiful, bright-eyed daughter rummaging through your purse for whatever catches her eye….and you’re thinking about him? About what he's doing right now, how he’s feeling, if he’s eaten. 

Why is it that you’ve gone the entire week ignoring his texts, asking if you need him to come resume his job as babysitter? Why the fuck do you want to accept after how he took advantage of your state of mind? After he came onto you and tried to manipulate you? 

Despite all of his words ringing true in the back of your head. That was a dirty tactic he pulled on you. Yet, still…you want him back, and god fucking dammit you could cry knowing your daughter called him “dad.” You hadn’t believed him at first, but after this week alone it slipped from her mouth several times. 

“He’s not your dad, baby, that’s just Donghyuck.” You remember correcting her more than once, and all she responded to you with was a confused expression. 

“Why not?” Is what her little voice gave back to you after her child-like brain decided it was fed up with you correcting her very right assumption of the guy who promised her the Barbie Dream House. 

Why not?

Why not?

Well, if you could have an adult conversation with a five year old it would be much easier to answer that. Because he sprayed cheese in your hair. Because you were seventeen and his babysitter when he was twelve years old. Because you ogled him without recognizing him as your pool boy. Because of a lot of things.

“Uncle Donghyuck.” You finally corrected her again. 

She shook her head, and continued doing and saying as her little mind pleased. It made you miss having a father around for her though. You think she needs it more than you do. 

And that fucking Barbie Dream house is what brings Haechan back. 

Right at your doorstep today, with a gentle knock to the door and a timid smile on his face. He doesn’t even look at you when you open the door, instead he crouches down in front of you with the big, flashy box. He ignores you, tilting himself to look past you and straight at your daughter. 

You hold your breath when she runs to Haechan, arms spread open and laughter shrieking in your ears. Your heart aches so much at this moment. 

Given your work schedule, you’d never gotten to see them interact much. He always came over as she was eating her breakfast, and you always came home after she was put to bed. You guess it’s fair that they have a bond now. She doesn’t even run at you like she does for Haechan. In fact, the only time she ever does is when she had a bad day at daycare or had a tummy ache. 

She runs to you when she needs you, but she runs to Haechan like she wants to. Like she genuinely is attached to him, and his kind smile, and his eyes, and probably that warm embrace that you’ve never let yourself experience.

You watch them, not allowing yourself to melt at the moment because you did not invite him over, nor did you give consent to bring that fucking doll house here. But you can’t say no now, as she clings to his leg when he stands up and looks at you with an almost irritated glint in his eye. 

His eyes trail all over you briefly too, as if checking for any new spots or marks that a man could have put on you. You feel seen, dipping your head to not meet his eye and scratching your neck as if to hide a spot there. There isn’t a mark, it’s just…fear? nervousness? anxiety? 

And then he hauls the box in for her without saying a word to you. You watch him hard now that his back is turned. His voice sounds so loving when he speaks to your child as if she’s an equal. Plopping down on your living room floor with her and opening the large box. 

He Ooo’s and Aahhh’s with her as he pulls each piece out, connecting the walls, the doors, handing her little things to help him with. And both of them are so focused on the task at hand to create a safe space for all of her abused barbie dolls that… you feel invisible.

For the first time ever in front of them both, you feel like you are nothing but a ghost. That he is the single parent. As if you’re forgotten, less loved, not wanted, not even needed. 

There’s a bubbling in your gut when you tear up, reminding yourself that what Haechan did that night was probably just, well, he’s a man. Men aim to fuck at all times usually, and you guess you should have expected it at one point from him because, again, you’re aware that he’s attracted to you. Even more aware now. 

But the way you feel right now outshines that. He’s ignoring you to keep your child happy. She is ignoring you because it seems Haechan does a better job at it than you do. 

And, well, he’s not holding you down, whispering things in your ear, letting out frustrated little sighs at your drunken or drowsy words now. So, you say nothing. All you can do is go to the kitchen and prepare a snack, trying to force the tears to stay inside of you with quiet sniffles, hoping you can join their little picture perfect moment so that you can be helpful too. 

Your heart swells when they both look at you as you present a plate of snacks. You have to hold back tears again at the way their eyes shine, thanking you for the snacks. Haechan’s eyes stay on you a bit longer though, as if saying “See? See what you’re making her go without?” 

You do see it. 

But…it can’t be him. As much as you wish it could be, you just can’t. There has to be another man out there just like him, one that doesn’t have a history with you that would cause whispers and questions. There has to be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

That moment you witnessed seems to have solidified Haechan’s place in your home. Whether it be for babysitting or simply so your child can see him when she’s asking for him (which is often.) It’s kind of an issue, actually, because now the choice isn’t yours anymore and it appears Haechan knows that.

You hate that you’re forced to see him for what he is now. How he proves himself over and over again to be the man you need. The issue is that you still don’t want it to be him. The bigger issue is that he’s breaking down your walls, doing little things for you, looking at you with those dark eyes– your resolve cracks and reminds you every time he’s here that maybe it could work. Maybe you’ll give him a chance. Maybe you won’t have to go out anymore looking to fill a void that no one else fits into. 

It’s the way that now, you can’t help but to compare him to your ex husband. The man who you loved for so long, who you genuinely thought you’d spend your life with happily and safely. Now, compared to Haechan, your ex seems like…nothing. Like a little crack in your resolve. He was older than you by just two years, took care of you for so long, impregnated you, and slowly but surely throughout all that time grew to resent you too.

You still don’t know why, but perhaps it’s just because you were growing into your own. You were becoming more independent, though he never had the capability to realize just how much you depended on him during the very time he left you. 

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” Your ex had said to you on that fateful morning. 

Your belly was big as you tried to waddle up to him when he said that. You can’t help but think back now and wonder how pathetic you must have seemed when he yanked his arm from your grip, especially due to the difficulty of your pregnancy already. You were sick through most of it, only having a few good days here or there where that pregnancy glow would make your ex husband second-guess himself. 

The slam of the door after that was more exhausting than the months of pregnancy you’d gone through. It felt loud, so loud you could hear it vibrate throughout your whole body. You recall falling to the floor and carefully holding your stomach. It’s like all of the heartbreak pooled there. The loss of your husband three weeks before he got to meet the child he was supposed to love. Her little heart must have been breaking inside of you too. 

Double the pain.

And then you were mending yourself on your own. Going into labor early from stress,  your family helped take care of you more than her. You were needier. You were broken. 

And never, fucking ever, did you think you’d find yourself sitting comfortable in your lavish home realizing that your ex-husband didn’t deserve all of that pain from you. He left you for that girl, and not two months later did she leave him. 

Never did you think you’d find yourself thinking about Haechan as a replacement either. Well, not a replacement, but like, maybe just…he’s the idea of a perfect dad if you pay attention to how your child talks about him. How they act together. How she cries for him before bed when he’s not there, asking you why you don’t read to her the way Haechan does. Why don't you sing to her the way he does? Why don't you use the same voices for her dolls? Why you don’t cut her food like he does, why you don’t do this or that.

That’s what makes it click the most you think. The fact that Haechan has given her something you never can. The love of a father. It doesn’t even feel like he’s babysitting at this point, he’s parenting, teaching her lessons, bandaging small boo-boos, fixing her hair,…cooking dinner, cleaning…existing here like he belongs.

Haechan has done more for your daughter than your ex husband ever could have, more than you could have done for her too, you think. 

Even now, as you come home night after night and see him, you struggle to see him as anyone that isn’t who your daughter needs. Maybe who you need. 

His summer semester is coming to an end too, and it’s hard to see him as a college student now. He really does coursework and everything that needs to be done at your home all within a single work day? With no complaints at all? Lately, you’ve noticed that he’s been more focused on studying when he babysits too, but still your daughter listens to him better than she listens to you. 

Yet, still, it’s like you’re avoiding each other as you go through the motions, but you notice him more. You feel more discomfort because of it, mostly because you know your resolve about this is breaking. There’s a fear inside of you that revolves around him.

What if you missed your chance? 

What if it does end up being a mistake if he still wants you?

You don’t know what to do, but you know you want him. 

Some nights, Haechan does sleep over due to exhaustion and you don’t even ask him to leave because you know he’s not doing it to try anything. The avoidance is loud. Lately, you come home from work and there he is, sitting up with his laptop on his lap but sound asleep, softly snoring. Each time, you remind yourself of how he’s sacrificing his study time to babysit. You know your child can be distracting and needy when she wants something too, but he doesn’t complain even a little bit. The least you could have done was bring him a blanket, which you did. And you woke the next morning to find him curled up on the same couch, laptop toppled over onto the floor.

Small, gentle acts of kindness towards each other but never face to face. You’ve woken to fresh coffee countless times, made exactly the way you like it because you know he’s watched you make it yourself. You’ve come home to re-stocked items, like milk and eggs, laundry detergent, and even toothpaste. It’s nice, and a small indication that he doesn’t resent you. Even through face-to-face avoidance on your part.

Tonight seemed different though, compared to all of the other nights when you can’t go out. You walked through the door to the smell of dinner and your child still awake, sing-songing at you the moment you walked in. 

“Dad said I can stay up late!” 

You quirk a brow, her calling him that now becoming a regular occurrence to the point it goes through one ear and out the other for you. You recall discussing her bed time though, with absolutely no exceptions.

“Did he now?” You hug her before taking off your cardigan, walking with her to the kitchen where you find Haechan, placing down a small plate on the table with cartoon characters on it, right in front of two bigger plates with bigger portions of delicious looking food placed neatly on it.

Your heart swells, but your anxiety grows twice as big alongside it. This. 

This is what you’ve wanted for so long. This is what you never thought you could find. So, why is it that you still have push-back in your mind? Despite knowing that Haechan has proven himself time and time again, you want to argue?! 

Perhaps it’s because you like the way he tries. Maybe you’re not ready to lose that feeling of being chased in some way, of being begged to let him stay. Maybe it’s because you begged your husband, desperate for him to keep you, but he left anyway. It feels like Haechan gives you power over yourself, over your love-life, over everything, really. 

And if you were to actually accept his advances, even just a dinner on your table, what if he stops? What if he gets bored once he gets what he wants? After all, he’s still young, you can’t truly imagine he wants to do this forever. 

Not with you, and not with your daughter either. 

“What’s all this? Isn’t it a bit late for her to have dinner?” You question him instantly, anxiety bubbling up out of assumption alone. 

“We had a small snack a few hours ago.” Haechan reassures you. “I finished my exams and had a burst of energy to celebrate, besides, it’s a Friday–” He goes to pull out a chair for you. “You don’t need to be up early either. A late dinner every now and then never hurt anybody.”

The way this is the first time the two of you have had a face-to-face conversation since…that night. His voice calms you, and that’s scary. 

You huff, happy because you could easily melt into this chair and pretend you’re having a family dinner, like you always wanted, like you never rejected a touch from him that you desperately wanted. You could just play along and pretend Haechan is everything you need. Except, it wouldn’t even be pretending at this point. The whole idea of him has changed. But, again, that anxiety. You still have that little voice holding you back, no matter what you want, or what you need, you fear it’ll be ripped from you again if you were to let yourself be weak for another person.

“I’m really tired, Donghyuck.” You explain, walking past the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “Thanks for dinner but I’m not too hungry and I just want to lay down.”

And with that, he watches you leave. No real appreciation, no congratulations on him finishing his exams, not even a kiss to your child’s forehead. Is he still expected to be the one to put her to sleep? 

Why is he even here? Why did he do all of this? 

His patience is running dry.

So, he eats with your child as your plate goes cold and he leaves it there. If you can’t even handle a dinner at the table with the person who cooked it, you can deal with your own fucking plate. Throw away your own fucking food, wash your own fucking dish. And if you can’t tuck your child into bed, he’ll do it, but you can shove that fake ass exhaustion right up your ass for all he cares. 

He knows you’re not exhausted. He’s seen you when you are. You’re just being an asshole to him at this point, trying to appear like you’re perfectly happy with the life you live when your drunken rants prove otherwise. You treat him like everything he does has an ulterior motive. Which, yeah, maybe it does, but he was genuinely excited to have someone celebrate the end of this semester with him. Maybe assuming you’d indulge him went too far. For the first time, he wasn’t doing it to impress you.

By the time Haechan gets your daughter to bed, all tucked in with a little tune to fall asleep to, he closes her door and just stands there in the silence on the other side of it. 

You must really enjoy being a single mother, huh? This is why too. He always questioned it. You’re so attractive, so well-adjusted. You work hard, your daughter is a sunshine in this world, and you’ve not managed to find anyone to love you yet? He thought he was lucky to be the one getting to spend time with you. 

Turns out, you refuse to let anyone in despite Haechan knowing, fucking seeing straight through you. You want something from someone. You need it, yearn for it, even. But it’s almost laughable at the way you refuse it. 

Excuses, excuses, excuses. 

It’s the fucking audacity you have taking advantage of him. You’ve practically led him on. You lend him everything he wants in life. That’s it. You lend it. From flaunting yourself before you go to bars, to exposing all the marks you allow other men to leave on you. Letting him stay in this house, father your child, cook, clean, mend, fix, heal. 

From being a faux-father to being minimized to a college student that you used to babysit. He’s offered you relief in so many ways including sexual, and all you fucking do is avoid, deny, fucking reject him. You still go out to bars, later and later you’ll come home with new swells against your skin, but always looking so empty and disappointed. Sometimes he thinks you try to make him jealous. Sometimes, he thinks you want him to try again. 

Sometimes, he thinks you get off on the fact that he keeps trying.

And he has tried. Albeit more gently lately, but he has. Small, lingering touches when he hands you your coat to help you get out the door and to work quicker. Starting your car for you before you leave. Fuck, he even opens the goddamn door for you. Anything to make you feel appreciated, respected, and fucking wanted.

The silence is loud in his ears due to the sheer irritation as he drops his head, staring at his feet and knowing it’ll only take a few strides to reach your bedroom. A room he still craves to be in.

He’s raided those drawers by now, because of course he has. Soiling your panties, your sheets, anything that still smells like you when you’re gone for the day, all so he can act normal upon seeing you when you come home. He’s laid in your bed by now too, wondering what it would feel like to have your weight beside him. He fantasized about anything and everything he possibly could in there.

And he’s always warmer. Always cums the hardest with weak, muffled moans as he stuffs your pillows into his mouth to keep quiet. All before cleaning every trace of himself there, closing the door, and wishing he was allowed to exist in there with you. 

Right now will be the first time Haechan enters your room to your knowledge, and it sucks for him because he has essentially trained himself to get hard every time he opens this fucking door. Still, he composes himself, and it’s a bit of a shock if you’re being honest.  You thought he’d go home after this, you were kind of hoping he would after you made it so awkward. 

You felt guilty the second you saw his expression fall to your rejection of eating dinner like a big fucking happy family. You want it so bad, you want him so bad.

When you left the kitchen, you immediately went to your room and hopped in the shower, well aware that he wouldn’t follow you. You thought hard while the hot water made attempts to wash away your feelings. Would it have been so bad to just eat with him? With your daughter? With both of them? The way his eyes fell, it burned your heart a little bit.

Still, no answers came to you because you know part of you just wants to see what else he will do for you. Despite the history with him, and despite knowing his entire family would question and scoff at you for it…Is it really so wrong? To want to give him a chance just to see if he’ll leave you too? 

Just to see if it’ll hurt when he does it too?

Inviting him to your home almost every day of the week isn’t wrong, right? Forgetting to pay him all those times before, hoping to see him again and get that confidence boost, that wasn’t wrong. Letting your daughter attach herself to him when you swore he wasn’t permanent, no longer having the energy to correct her use of “dad” towards him… none of that is wrong.

 It’s all Haechan. He’s the one in the wrong for willingly following along, not you. Right? 

And as you’re sitting on your bed in your towel, zoning out and staring at your floor, Haechan swings your bedroom door open without a single knock, mindfully closes it, and immediately goes off on you.

Somehow, you really expected him to accept your rejection but your heart swells that he didn’t. You don’t think he ever will, and you’re exhausting yourself hoping he’ll prove you wrong.

He’s shown you enough by now. This is what breaks down that wall inside of you, isn’t it?

“What am I doing wrong?” He shoots his first question out in a desperate whisper shout, eyes searing into you before continuing without a single breath. “Because I do everything for her, and i do everything  for you, does that really make you so fucking uncomfortable?”

“D–” You try to respond, feeling your skin prickle at the sheer irritation in his expression.

He’s fighting for you.

“Isn’t that what you want?!”

“After everything I do–” He throws his hands up now, running his fingers through his hair as if you make him feel like he wants to rip it out. “After trying to make your life easy while making mine harder, for what? You to not eat the fucking food I made? For you to go to the bar all the time just to come back disappointed like I’m not right here waiting for you to come back?” 

“What ar-”

“Don’t ask me any stupid fucking questions, Just answer me.” He drops his hands, stepping up to you, placing both hands on either side of your hips, doing his best not to react to your near-naked body. “Why?”

You lean back, trying to create more distance to try and give him an answer that you don’t even know yourself, but he just keeps closing in. Not letting you escape this time. You’ve never seen him so riled up before, it’s…

Well…

“Because I came onto you? Because I tried to do what no one else will do for you?” His voice shakes when he says it, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. Is he…about to cry?

Only now, seeing him so close with an entirely sober brain do you realize an answer. Maybe not to his question of why, but to the same question you’ve been asking yourself. It’s because of that look in his eye. You’ve never been able to put a word to it, but now with him demanding you explain yourself so closely, you see it.

He’s desperate. 

Arguably as desperate as you’ve felt to fill the void. Except, he’s trying to do that for you and you won’t let him out of what? Fucking fear? Hell, at this point the history means close to nothing when it comes to all the new memories he’s made in this home, even without you. The history of babysitting him, the history of your ex husband leaving you. It doesn’t matter.

You think hard, so hard that you feel your eyes burn as you stare up at him. Glancing without intention to his jaw when he clenches it, to his neck when he swallows his words, to his lips, his eyes, the hair falling in his face…and you just–

You reach up, running a soothing hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Then you see those same desperate eyes somehow grow more desperate as he lowers them, leaning into the touch, as if you’ve been starving him the same way you’ve been starved for years. He falls silent too, cutting himself off mid-question just to feel you touch him for the first time.

“I don’t know.” You say, which seems like a better answer than having an excuse. What can you say otherwise? That it’s because it shouldn’t  be him? That you’re afraid he’ll realize he’s not ready to settle? To be a dad? He’ll ask why, and it’ll be the same answer you gave on that drunken night. An answer that you no longer care about. 

You babysat him when he was a child, but you were still a child too. 

You were still a child, and time changes things.

Your ex husband left you, and you’re afraid he will too, especially because he’s so much younger? Who cares?

Your answer seems to fly right past his head though, because he’s still leaning to feel your fingers in his hair, and he’s looking at you as if nothing you say will matter unless you make it hold some weight to him. 

“Donghyuck–” You pause, scratching right at his nape, uncaring of how you can feel your towel loosening on your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Somehow, his name on your lips is what he needed to hear. The tone of it, the rasp in your voice, your fingers in his hair. Actions speak louder than anything the two of you could say right now, and he can’t help it. Nothing can stop him, not even you at this point. 

He hasn’t done anything wrong you say? It’s because he fucking knows what you need.

You inhale deeply, holding your breath when you feel your back hit your mattress, his warm hands instantly taking advantage of your freshly-showered state and tugging at the towel just slightly to let it fall open. You hear a slight breath from him at that moment, an inhale. There, he climbs onto the bed, nudging himself between your legs and trapping you there under him, both hands holding your arms down.

Like he’s afraid you’ll reject him again.

“You’re going to let me take care of you now.” He demands, though to him it sounds more like a plea solely due to the fact that he’s so fucking turned on it’s unreal. That feeling of when your fingers were in his hair? Seeing your naked body? Unshaved pussy? Being in this fucking room with you? It throws him into overdrive, especially with the way you just lay there blinking up at him in surprise. The anger melting away only amplifies it more. 

How could you do this to him? Genuinely, how could you have let him fucking suffer for you like this? 

Still, you blink up as if you’re a deer caught in headlights and it makes his heart thump against his ribcage. Your eyes are so bright, that glint of sadness he had seen so many times isn’t there right now. And there’s so much adrenaline inside of him, like he needs to move fast before you change your mind again. You’ve not let him do this for some fucking reason or another and now you’re just laying here for him.

 There, with your entire body on display, and you appear to be docile. Fucking obedient? Like he always knew you would be if you’d just drop the fucking act?! You were meant for him and him alone, and he’s going to show you why.

In all honesty, you’re tired of denying yourself by now. From the moment you saw him that day cleaning your pool for the first time, you’ve wanted him on some level. It wasn’t an emotional attachment, but a hope, a fantasy for you. And when you recognized him, you were more impressed with him than embarrassed. You tried not to let your eyes wander out of guilt, out of feeling like a pervert. 

And then, that day when he came onto you, he was just a man to you. Your faux guilt kept you from letting him, and your hope to be chased kept you from it too. As if you’ve never pleasured yourself to the thought of him, shamefully in this very bed. As if you’ve never called out his name with a silent breath. If you keep going at this point, you’ll lose him before ever knowing what he could really be for you. 

This is his last ditch effort to beat you at your own game, and you’re ready to lose.

  So, now, you let yourself get lost in him. In his eyes and the way he pleads and makes his demands. He probably doesn’t recognize his strength against you right now, or how much it’s turning you on. With the way he has both hands on your wrists, probably bruising them, and there’s nothing you could do even if you wanted to. His weight holding you down feels better than you imagined. 

After so long, with so many failed hookups where you’ve told them of your daughter and all they’ve done in return is get their orgasm then leave…Haechan. He wants to take care of you? 

He wants to…give you what you need?

Fuck, you know he can. That’s the fucked up part. He’s proved it so many times to you in so many ways. You’ve watched him, the way he moves and acts around you. He’s exactly what you need.You pushed him to this point, where his sanity is on the brink of crashing. Taking it away from him again feels wrong, because it’s exactly what you want.

And when he presses his leg between yours, he knows.

“Again?” He comments, now releasing your wrist from one hand and running it down, able to slip his fingers right into the slick of your bare pussy. “You’re wet.” 

You still just blink up at him with an intake of breath at the pleasure, thoughts running left and right on what to do, finally realizing you don’t want to do a damn thing. He’d do it all if you let him. Clean your house, be a father, fix all of the breaks, make you wet.

And you just feel him, the way his fingers play around with what he does to you. You can practically feel his confidence rise at the way you spread your legs a bit more, as if to give him more access. When you look at him, his expression remains harsh, but slowly he moves himself down, lips brushing over one of your nipples while keeping eye contact.

Still that irritated look, like he’s mad you haven’t let him do this before now.

“How many times are you going to pretend like I’m not the one who gets you wet?” He asks before rubbing circles around your clit, tongue flicking in the same way around your nipple. “Like I don’t have a right to take care of you?”

Your breath is still caught in your throat, trying to be careful about what you say right now despite knowing you can’t speak. You focus on what he’s doing instead, losing yourself to something you’ve not felt in far, far too long. 

He’s right. He’s gotten you wet more than once by now. More than he knows. 

And goddamn, he knew your tits could bounce, but the way they move without the support of a bra, the plush, soft feeling of your nipple growing erect in his mouth, all for him to bite and pull at. He does it too, listening to the little seething sound of pain from you when he pulls all the way back with your nipple between his teeth. Only to let it fall from his mouth and break eye contact with you to see the jiggle as it falls.

His cock twitches, at everything that you are right now, feeling more pleasure through seeing you like this alone compared to fucking his own fist on your bedroom floor. He notes how your legs squeeze him more at the nipple stimulation than his fingers too, memorizing the way your labia falls open between them. He smirks, flicking his tongue more, quicker. 

There. There it is.

A low rumble in your chest falls from your lips. Soft, a moan. A very small, delicate sound.

“You like this?” Haechan asks, looking up at you, letting his tongue fall from his mouth again and flicking the erect nub. “When I play with your tits?”

You nod, throwing an arm over your face in embarrassment that this is actually happening. You’re letting him. Already you feel yourself heat up more, even when he takes his fingers away from your clit and instead, uses them to flick your other nipple. 

And he does this for a few minutes. Paying special attention to your tits, going back and forth with his fingers and tongue to each bud, trying so hard to not stop just to shove his cock between them and use them the way he’s always wanted. He focuses on drawing out more and more little sounds from you instead, slurping his own saliva from your painfully erect nipples, pulling back, blowing cold air, then warming it up again with his lips. All while simultaneously groping, flicking, and pinching with his other hand. 

“Jesus, Haechan–” You moan quietly, chest rising and falling as he squeezes and licks against you. 

That’s right, say his name. Let him fucking know he’s doing what you like. Haechan thinks, feeling his cock weep in his pants as he does it. Wondering just how sensitive you are to be reacting like this to simple nipple stimulation. God, he’s wanted to suck on these for so long, and now you’re letting him. They’re so big, so plush. He wants to fucking cover them with his mouth, he wants to bury his face in them, kiss them all over them. 

And if they were to get bigger? He moans at the thought, remembering that conversation you had with your mom. You want another. He bets they’d swell up–Oh, fuck yeah. They’d probably hurt to rub against your shirt. God, fuck, he can’t control his thoughts right now.

 Finally. 

Fucking finally, he has you and he’s not going to let you run away again.

He doesn’t fucking care if it’s forward. He wants what he wants, you want what you want. That want just so happens to line up. Besides, he’s already proved himself to you, he knows it. If you’re letting him do this, maybe you’d let him stay like this. 

“Did they get bigger?” He moans briefly as he swaps to your other nipple again. “So full, so heavy, were they leaking all over you?”

You listen to him, trying not to feel the pit in your stomach bubble with even more arousal at his blatant and dirty words, feeling your clit throb at the stimulation your tits are getting right now. 

“Makes my dick fucking throb just thinking about it. Fuck–” 

“Let me give you another,” He mumbles now, almost mindlessly before looking up at you with an intense gaze as he bites down, indicating that he’s not mindless about it at all. 

“Swell you up, make you glow–”

Oh. 

Why is that– why are you dripping?

He hears that moan you let out. Different from the others, almost desperate.

“Mm, yeah.” He encourages it, now allowing his hand to travel back down to witness how much wetter you’ve gotten at those words. So messy, so perfect. “Knew you’d want it raw.”

You can’t help the nod, as it comes before you even process his words solely because you feel his fingers slip inside of you. You haven’t been this wet in so, so long. You want to feel it. To be full again, of anything. Of him.

“Ye-” You start, interrupting yourself with a bite of your lip and your eyes rolling back. 

“That’s right mama,” He coos, tilting his fingers up and amplifying the pressure inside of you. “Gonna let me take good care of this pussy, yeah?” He adds, lifting from your tits and ghosting his lips over yours. 

He watches you closely, that daze in your eye. God, you look so horny right now. There’s nothing more he wants than to see this time and time again. To let you wake up every morning with his warm cum inside of you, to see your belly swell with his child, to see your tits grow until they hurt. 

He’d take care of you. He’d take good fucking care of you. 

“Say something.” Haechan whispers against your lips, darting his tongue out against your lips, angling his fingers up and making you moan. “Say you want me to give it to you raw.”

You open your mouth, feeling his tongue lick and swallow up that moan you just gave him before you try to compose yourself. You can’t help it, you’re so, so sensitive right now and you can’t help but find it incredibly sexy to be here, laid bare, while he’s still fully clothed.

Like he really is doing this for you. He’s not trying to get his own orgasm and leave. You’re weak and those words of “let me give you another” shines in your head. Weak, you’re weak. You should be thinking about condoms, you should be thinking about the consequences of this. 

But you’re not. 

You do like it raw.

“Haechan–” You stutter as you try to grasp the reality of his words, feeling his fingers repeatedly hit right where you need it. “I’m…not protected.”

He moans. Loudly, before huffing out an irritated groan.

“You must really want it then.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Going out all the time trying to get fucked–” 

He plunges his fingers in again, deep, and holds them there as he pulls back to look at you. To really look at you, then he glares.

“You’d really let just some fucking dude give you a baby?” 

You repeatedly shake your head. 

“No!” You retort, thrusting your hips up. “I just–”

“Mhm,” He pulls his fingers out now, sliding himself down so fast that you can barely comprehend him sucking your clit into his mouth before pulling back in a moan at the taste of you. “If mama wants another, daddy will give her one.” He says now, as if to pacify you.

As if to give you everything. 

And you’d argue, really, you would.  You want another child so bad, but this is– it’s too soon. You haven’t even established a relationship with him yet. Boundaries haven’t been discussed. His college plan– but fuck it’s not entirely your fault that you’re like, super turned on by the idea of it. To the thought of being so filled with cum that there’s no possible way you couldn’t end up pregnant. An indication that, no matter what, no man at a club could fulfill the arousal for you even if they cared to do it. 

You’d never have let them actually fuck you raw. 

Haechan though…how can you keep telling him no?

How could you reject him again when you want it so badly? 

Fuck now, think later.

“Yeah–” You say against your better judgement, hands reaching down to his hair so you can grind up against his mouth, lost to the arousal as you mimic what he referred to himself as. “Daddy?”

You feel his mouth fall slack at that, as if you’re accepting him in full now. You feel your clit hit nothing in his open mouth, but it throbs harder. 

 He knew you were slightly into him for letting him do this at all, but now, you’re truly accepting it. Like you know he’ll fucking do it, like you want him to fucking do it.

“That’s right,” He moans against your clit as he licks at it, barely able to comprehend your voice calling him that but clinging to it all the same.  “Gonna let daddy do it all for you.”  

Yeah. You are. You’re gonna let him do it. All of it. 

And then, the room is enveloped in quiet moans, more from Haechan than from you due to your breath being stuck in your throat. His tongue, licking every part of your sensitive cunt, his hands reaching back up to your tits, fondling, pinching, painfully tugging at them as he moans louder, louder, louder for you to want him.

He presses his hips up and against your mattress as he tastes you, so deeply it hurts his cock to neglect it like this. Each rub feels raw, twitching and pulsing to be let out, to be inside of you, on you, against you. Filling you up with his cum, plugging it in as a promise that you can’t leave him even if you wanted to. 

He’s going to fucking do exactly what he said he would. 

And only when you feel his tongue lap against your hole do you finally release your breath, “Daddy” coming out in a choked back sob. It breaks him, his body going into overdrive as he pulls back and just– stares at you with wild eyes. 

You stare back up at him, knowing that calling him that means something more than a cringe little roleplay kink. It means something deeper to him. He wants to be a dad, a real one.

“Oh yeah?” He finally says, hands going straight to his button and zipper. 

You can’t help it, biting your lower lip as you blink up, watching his shoulders move, the veins on his arms protruding as he rushes to pull it out and– oh. You moan at it, the way his heavy, slicked up, cock falls out, dark, needy. 

“Daddy–” You urge him on, knowing that it’s driving him absolutely insane. 

“Mhm?” He shuffles himself off the bed, letting his pants drop as he lifts his shirt off of him and fucking glares at your tits. “You want daddy’s cock?”  He adds now, shooting his eyes up to you as both of his hands land on your legs.

Your mind goes blank when you feel him slide his hands around to the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward, curling you in on yourself, forcing your pussy to be out and on display for him. 

And you watch him, the way he stares down at it. It’s embarrassing to be so seen right now, not having expected to get fucked open by anyone tonight, let alone him. You probably should have shaved or something, or like, not gotten out of the habit in the first place. But he moans at it, mouth falling open at the fact that you are entirely a fucking woman. 

A fucking mother.

The prettiest pussy he’s ever fucking seen let alone tasted.

And he moans, breaking the silence, forgetting only for a moment how long he’s been wanting this. It boosts your confidence more than you’ve ever felt. His reaction to this is more than your ex husband’s reaction to you when you were pristine and borderline pornstar quality. 

Haechan doesn’t see you as used and neglected, he just sees you. And this. This is the pussy he wants. This is what he wants to put his baby in. 

When he flicks his eyes back to you, with that same open mouthed expression, it knocks the breath out of you. There’s so much love in his eyes, or maybe lust, you don’t care. You think you’re matching that expression for him too, because it’s like he can’t hold back anymore. He can’t just sit and look at you anymore. 

He just can’t.

And you feel it, his thick head pushing past the tightened, pulsing hole and not stopping. He pushes in slowly, painfully slow, to the point you’re both looking at each other with a slack jaw. Finally. The pain of it, the pleasure, the fucking need you’ve been trying to fulfill. 

That look on your face drives him wild too, he knows he has you by now. You like it, you love the way he slides in and makes damn sure you feel it. Every second of the slide pries you open, and he wants to remember this moment forever. He wants you to fucking remember too. 

Wants you to know that no one will ever fit inside of you so perfectly, so deeply.

When he finally bottoms out, he leans forward to keep himself buried deep as he ghosts his lips over yours. He feels the way you try to kiss him, but he pulls back with a confident smirk. 

“When was the last time you’ve felt a cock so deep in you?” He whispers hotly, knowing you need not answer. Knowing you won’t answer, not with the way you’re instantly lifting your head and kissing him. 

Your pussy pulses around him when you lick into his mouth, the first real kiss sending his heart soaring. He twitches inside of you with each squeeze, and kisses you harder, deeper. And somehow, it brings tears to your eyes. 

The way he kisses, the way he makes you feel him. Fuck, the way he makes you feel whole, so wanted, like you’re amazing to him. In more ways than just a body to fuck, but he’s stuck around despite all of your avoidance and rejections. You hope you’re making it worth it. 

Fuck, you need to feel worth it to him.

“You’d better not fucking pull out.” You groan through a breath, his lips still kissing you through your words as he finally pulls his hips back, fucking in once. 

Hard.

Honestly, could you have said anything else at this moment? He’s trying to make this last, he needs it to last. If you keep fucking talking, saying everything he’s ever wanted to hear– 

“Fuck,”  He moans, his hands moving up to your cheeks as he licks into your mouth. “You can’t–”  He continues, fucking in again, moving your body up with each thrust do to the sheer force of him trying to plunge in as deep as he can. “You can’t fucking say that to me right now.”

You’re seeing stars though, unable to say anything else as your eyes roll back at the way the head of his cock practically kisses your cervix with each push into you. He’s so rough, so desperate for it. 

You don’t think he expected you to respond either, with the way he keeps his lips on yours, his body pressed so closely that having your legs to your chest means nothing to him now. Mating press be damned, he’s lost his mind to the feeling, not the aesthetic of being a fucking dad. 

Your legs wrap around him instead, and he’s all too happy to feel it. Your legs hug him the same way your arms do, the same way your pussy does, and he’s fucking in love with you. 

He braces one hand back against your leg, holding it against his hips as he continues to fuck forward, still at the same pace. Deep and with purpose. Every few seconds the bursts of pleasure run through him, making him shiver and moan into your mouth. Little grunts, near whimpers for you to let him give you the world. 

More than this. More than fucking, more than taking care of you, more than anything he could ever possibly give you. He’ll find a way. 

And then, you’re clenching hard, matching his near-whimpers except moaning in full pants, babbling and drooling cries against his mouth. 

“Mama–” Haechan soothes, continuing his pace as he tilts his head back to get a good look at that lost gaze in your eyes. “You’re crying?”

You nod with a laugh, tears rolling down the same way the wet of your cunt slips down your ass. You’ve never felt so good, so fucking full.  And for some reason, that does him in. Making it last be damned, he genuinely thinks he’s won you over. He can make it last next time, he can do more next time, he can–

He leans back all the way now, onto his knees as your legs try to hug him back to you, and his eyes go straight back to those tits. The way he made a promise. The way they bounce, slick with his sweat from pressing against you. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He grunts in a breath, now quickening his pace and snapping his hips. Pulling out all the way briefly to plunge into your again. “Can’t get any deeper–” He continues, flicking his eyes from your face, to your tits, to that beautiful pussy of yours swallowing him up. 

Now his eyes roll back, hands going back to your thighs to push you back into position. No way in hell can he last, not at a pace like this, inside of a woman like you. 

“Don’t pull out.” You repeat again in a breath, seeing his face and the way he focuses solely on you. You know he’s going to cum, and you want him to. You want to feel it, every single fucking drop of it. 

“Yeah?” He nods his head with laser-focus on your pussy now, staring down as he points tight, short thrusts inside of you. “Momma wants my cum? Hm?”

Oh, he’s fucking gone.

“She likes it?” He continues to talk himself up. “Likes being so fucking full of it? Yeah?” 

Goddamn, fuck, he’s insane. 

“Yes, daddy–” You whisper-shout, fingers shooting to your clit, other hand raising to your mouth to silence the moans as to not be too loud. 

“Fuck, yeah you do.”  He lets out a near growl, his voice low and rumbled as he slaps your hand away, pressing hard on your clit with his thumb as he buries himself in you once more and stiffening his abs. “That’s right.”

And instantly upon feeling him pulse, that first spurt of cum painting your insides, you lose yourself with him. Your fingers drop from your mouth and you release a pornographic moan for him, rutting yourself against him, as if to fuck it deeper into you. 

It only prolongs the orgasm though, for both of you. 

Haechan is silent, trying to keep his eyes open through the pleasure as you pulse and squirt around him, his thumb pressing so hard  into your clit, his cock cumming so deep, filling you up so well– He wants to see it. Wants to watch you fall apart for him. Wants to witness the way you let him do this. 

And he holds himself there, so hard and so full of pleasure for you. Keeping himself practically impaled against your cervix until your body falls slack. Still, he fucks it into you, holding you in place with a softer moan now. No longer guttural or deep from his chest. His breathing is rough, a soft, near feminine moan leaves his lips as he falls forward onto you. 

You wince along with him at the sensitivity, panting, a sweating tangle of a mess the two of you have become. And it’s the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever gotten off at the same time as someone else. You feel…soft. 

Your hands find their way to his hair as his face squished against your tits while he regains breath, not daring to move his hips because your pussy is too warm to leave right now. You brush the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, running your fingers all the way back to his nap, and then slowly down his back to rub and scratch.

He shivers at the feeling, humming the same feminine-tone he had released previously. And all he can do is hear your heart thumping against your chest, even through these soft tits of a pillow he’s lying against.

Haechan never wants to move again, not from this spot, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You know I’m in love with you, right?” Haechan mentions briefly after a long moment of silence, looking up at you with his wet hair. 

Deep in the night, your food still cold and on the table, you’ve found yourself freshly showered and on your living room couch with Haechan’s head on your lap. He made sure to have stayed long enough inside of you to implant…something if it was going to happen. So he didn’t argue a shower, and you didn’t argue letting him join you either. 

He had washed you, gently running his hands between your legs with what you can only describe as the softest, most alluring face a man has ever given you. Like he won the lottery, or found the answer to eternal life or something. You repaid him by letting him admire your tits again while you jerked him off, but that’s besides the point. 

“Like, I’m not going to leave. I hope you know that.” He adds with a soft groan to your hands still in his hair. His new favorite thing. 

You look down at him, hand moving to his cheek as the words hit you in the chest.

There’s anxiety along with happiness, at all of the boundaries and serious conversations that will need to be had now, but still, you feel like you’re glowing when he looks at you.

He didn’t even have to say it, and arguably you probably don’t need to say it back either. You think he sees it in you. Even if he didn’t, you think he’d take anything you give to him and cling to it. After all, it only took one time for you to break entirely for him. 

“Are you now?” You smile with a chuckle, looking back to the tv and pretending to watch it. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise I’d be making you go get a plan B or something.” 

His eyes narrow at you.

“Like hell I’d let you, even if I didn’t love you.” He groans. “But I do, so don’t ever say that shit again.”

You chuckle, feeling the calm in your home that once felt so chaotic. It’s quiet now, both inside and outside of your head. 

“Congratulations, by the way.”

He looks at you with question, quirking a brow.

“For finishing your finals, I mean.” You smile, going back to petting through his hair and feeling like you’re on top of the world, despite what you assume to become half of your world lying his head on top of you. 

“Oh, right.” He smiles, now turning his head to watch the tv. “I probably failed them.”

You don’t believe that, but even if he did, you think you could be what he needs too. He wouldn’t have to work if he didn’t want to.

If he’s really in love with you, all he’d have to do is…not leave. 

“Are you sure you want to be having these conversations with me? You can just call it a hook-up.” You finally say, hoping he means it, knowing it breaks your heart a bit to give him an out. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m going to trap you here just because I’m a little smitten too.” 

Haechan glares, blinking up at you.

“I literally just tried to put a baby in you.” 

That’s fair. 

“And you’re not going to run off? Get cold feet?” 

“Can you stop doubting me and just let me do what I want for once?” He argues playfully. “Do you even know how much that barbie fucking dream house costed me? I couldn’t run even if, for some stupid ass reason, wanted to. I love her too.”

Silence for a moment.

“Maybe even more than I love you.” 

You really, really, want to believe him.

So, you do. 

[like-supercute]

mistletoke | ldh

bestfriend!hyuck x f!reader ft. chenle + many friends

you, your best friend, and two years of the same silly christmas prank—last year’s ended as a stoned accident that convinced you friendship was all you were meant for and left you with your heart in pieces, but this year’s might just put it all back together.

wc: 9k genre: best friends → lovers | angst, fluff, smut

warnings under the cut! 18+ mdni

cw: stoner everyone ofc, non-idol!au, jealous hyuck, one-sided (?) pining, very slight chenle x reader but all is platonic, heartbroken yearning, embarrassing situations, petty arguments, weed/alcohol use, dry humping, fingering, riding, unprotected pinv sex but he pulls out (still wrap it up!), marking, tender love making, pet names: pretty girl, baby

last christmas i gave you my heart, but the very next day, you ga—

you abruptly skip the song, changing it to another christmas hit on your playlist.

“hey, i liked that one!” a whiny voice protests, and you do your best to block out your fluffy-haired best friend’s pouting. hyuck blindly flails his hand for your phone, knocking it out of your hand into your lap.

“hey, you’re driving, idiot,” you scold, holding your phone away from him and ignoring his complaints to change the song back.

“this is the last time i give you the aux,” he huffs, rolling his eyes as he plants both hands firmly back onto the wheel.

he always says that, but every time you slide into his passenger seat he unplugs the wire from his own phone, handing it to you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. a deep sigh leaves your lips.

the song you skipped is one of your all time favorites for this season, but there’s no way you’d want to listen to something so ironic for you in this moment.

your mind drifts back to this time last year; you were in this same passenger seat on the way to the same annual friends-mas party that you’re going to now. you’re in this same seat every year.

you steal glances at hyuck’s profile, his eyes trained on the road in concentration.

chenle insisted that this year’s christmas party require a funny holiday sweater, so hyuck busted out a knit he buried in his winter clothes drawer—black with thready christmas lights and ornaments of various colors surrounding big letters spelling “let’s get lit.” you’re reminded that you’re decked in the very same sweater.

you had both unknowingly bought them for each other as christmas gifts 3 years ago, and you remember how you both had tears in your eyes and sore stomachs from laughter at the happy accident.

it was undoubtedly in reference to your tendency to sneak out together for a smoke break every gathering, and your friends laughed along with you, teasing you for your synced minds. everyone knows—if you and hyuck are both missing, you can most likely be found on the patio sharing a blunt.

this silly gifted sweater was your only one on hand for this year’s mandatory dress code, but it was his, too, so neither of you got very far in your demands for the other to change when you realized you were matching. not that either of you truly minded it—kind of.

you play with a loose thread on one of your sweater’s red ornaments, looking out the window at the familiar route flying by you. you come to a stop light, and in your distraction hyuck grabs your phone from your lap, quickly queuing the song you had skipped.

you snatch your phone back from him, wanting to skip it again, but your thumb hovers above the playlist as realize you might draw suspicion. you’d hate for him to question your sudden distaste for a song he’s well aware you’ve loved for as long as he’s known you, it even being one of your go-to’s for holiday karaoke as a duet with him.

you sigh again, just letting it be, directing your attention back to the scenery outside the window as the familiar lyrics start up once again.

last christmas i gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away. this year, to save me from tears, i’ll give it to someone special.

hyuck sings along playfully in his soothing voice you’ve heard mature over the years. you miss the worried glance he gives you once he realizes you aren’t singing along with him.

despite its upbeat and catchy melody, the heart-broken lyrics force you to remember exactly why you don’t want to hear this song—the reason being the man in the driver’s seat next to you.

your best friend, yes, but also someone you’ve wished was more than just your best friend for as long as you could remember.

last christmas, everything was as it usually was—food, drinks, weed, and your best friends of many years gathered at chenle’s house. chenle tended to keep decorations minimal, but for some reason that year he went all out, citing a desire to up your group’s holiday spirit.

a certain holiday decoration was also included, one that didn’t catch anyone’s eyes until chenle’s mischievous plans came to light.

you should’ve known there would be consequences for revealing your feelings for your best friend to chenle at his birthday party a month prior. you were crossed and it somehow slipped to arguably the worst person for keeping secrets, despite him also being one of your closest friends.

he bragged in your face that “he knew it” and “it was about time you confessed.” he insisted that your best friend felt the same way and everyone knew that. you tried not to let his words give you false hope, but he always has been the most convincing of your group.

he promised not to tell anyone or do anything (though it came with some threats from you), and genuinely encouraged you despite all of the teasing.

you thought you’d heard the end of it after that. you were both crossed after all, so you reasoned there could be a chance he didn’t even remember what you told him. none of your other friends, hyuck included, seemed to act differently, so you believed him.

big mistake.

with the holiday festivities in full swing, you and hyuck had just returned from another routine smoke session out in the backyard when you caught your friend’s scheming eye.

“oh?” chenle smirked, gesturing to look above you. “what’s that above you two besties?” he announced obnoxiously, and you gave him a confused scowl as you and hyuck locked eyes before looking up. it was already nearing midnight and most of you were pretty inebriated, but you think the sight sobered you up almost instantly.

there, hanging ever so delicately from his kitchen door where you two were propped in conversation, was a bundle of mistletoe, tied with a bright red ribbon. your mouth dropped, panicked eyes immediately jetting back to chenle, who only smiled knowingly.

“bro, you need to chill,” hyuck scolded chenle at the sight, trying to keep a lighthearted tone—yet for some reason he avoided all eye contact with you.

you felt like there was a sudden spotlight on you, and your mind quickly descended into disorder. you couldn’t for the life of you figure out how to handle this gracefully, especially knowing how stubborn your scheming friend would be.

“where’s your christmas spirit?” chenle questioned, gasping as he clutched his chest in fake agony. “i worked so hard to put it up there and everything… you can’t say no to the mistletoe!” he exclaimed, sentence ending in his high pitched laughter.

you and hyuck were never really ones to back down from a challenge, known for your fondness of competitions and love for winning, but this was not a challenge you wanted.

you assumed hyuck was thinking the same thoughts as you, watching him shake his head at chenle’s teasing.

that was until everyone else joined in.

some of your other friends stopped their own conversations and activities at chenle’s exclamation, teasing smiles also lighting their faces at the revelation. it was only a matter of time before a good amount of them were chanting, chenle leading the pack.

“kiss! kiss! kiss!”

you could feel your face heating up, wanting nothing more than to shrivel up into a ball and roll away. you were used to your friends messing around and causing trouble, but the fact was that chenle knew about your feelings and still set you up like this.

you looked at hyuck, trying to get a read on him, but he still seemed to be looking anywhere but you. his eyes darted around at each of your friends, face also heating up at a loss for words.

when he finally did look at you, he had a determined glint to his eyes.

it all happened so fast, yet somehow felt like everything was moving in slow motion. your breath faltered as he planted an unsure hand on the back of your head, your mind going blank.

he leaned in and planted a swift kiss on your lips, so fleeting that your shocked mind couldn’t even process what his lips felt like.

all you remember were the joyous cheers of your jumping friends and hyuck’s hand leaving you with a burning sensation in its absence. he scratched the back of his neck, turning his head from you.

“happy now? jeez…” he scoffed towards the crowd, stalking towards a still jumping chenle before putting him in a headlock. chenle’s loud screams echoed over everyone’s laughter as he tried to pry himself from hyuck’s grip, but you heard nothing but your own thoughts.

this was not how you imagined it going down, but you’d dreamed of this. yes, you were embarrassed, and yes, it wasn’t an ideal situation at all, but you couldn’t even be angry. your mind could only process one thing—hyuck kissed you, and he initiated it.

did he feel the same way as you? why would he kiss you if not for that? you knew your best friend, and despite his unserious nature, he was earnest and not one to play games like this—especially not with you.

thinking back, chenle seemed so sure that hyuck reciprocated your feelings, and you supposed that he had to have known something putting the two of you in the hot seat like that. your heart jumped at the idea, butterflies in your stomach exploding.

after the kiss, things seemed to fizzle down, and eventually, many of your friends tapped out for the night and went home or settled into one of chenle’s many guest rooms.

somehow, you didn’t get to interact with hyuck alone until you decided to head home.

he always picked you up and took you home after each of your functions. that’s something a best friend would do, but you were left wondering if it meant something more. you entered his car giddily, thinking this ride would bring some clarity and wanting so badly to figure where you stood after that kiss.

it was a silent ride for the most part aside from soft christmas music playing in the background. though this wasn’t unusual for the two of you, something definitely felt off. maybe it was the way he wasn’t singing along with any of the tunes that came through the speakers, despite you not being able to get him to shut up in every other instance.

a hundred different thoughts of how to bring up the kiss raced through your head, and you were about to speak up until he did first.

“hey.. uh- sorry about that, had to get him off our backs,” he apologized sheepishly, tone lighthearted and unserious. you felt your heart sink to your stomach. “he would’ve never dropped it unless i did that—you know how chenle is.”

your head snapped towards him, gaze burning into the side of his face. he spared you no glance, eyes trained on the road ahead of him. what did he mean by that?

“oh.” you didn’t even know how to respond his apology. you didn’t want the apology, as it was for something you had wanted so badly. you wanted him to tell you that he wanted it, too.

“yeah, i definitely smoked too much- i think...? what did you put in those joints?” he chuckled, but there was no life to it, or maybe it sounded heartless to you. the two of you definitely smoked the same amount as you usually do, and the weed was from a big batch you’d both been chipping away at for at least a month.

“i didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable,” he remarked so casually, acting as if this kiss didn’t even affect him a fraction of how it affected you. as if he had never dreamed about the moment you’d lock lips for the first time. as if he didn’t feel the sa—

“are we good?”

his question interrupted your thoughts. you paused a bit before answering, and hyuck silently waited for your answer as he pulled up in front of your building and parked. he still kept his eyes forward, stuck on his fingers that lightly tapped on the steering wheel to the tune of the radio.

so it didn’t mean anything?

you were so sure that it meant something, but maybe you were wrong, so, so wrong. every excuse you had given yourself during the entire duration of your feelings for him came crashing down on you at once—a reality check that felt like a slap in the face.

he’s too comfortable with you, he doesn’t see you like that; years of friendship would be down the drain. you’re best friends, and that’s all you ever will be. he’s too important to you to try and convince him—and yourself—otherwise.

“yeah.”

you steeled yourself, putting on as best of a smile as you could though you could feel cracks in your heart growing by the second.

“we’re good.”

afted wishing each other a merry christmas, you exited his car with a piece of your heart hanging. as you entered your apartment, you didn’t realize you had left your old radio on before you left, your favorite christmas hit filling the room softly.

you couldn’t help the tears that stung your eyes, the lyrics of “last christmas” serving to snap the final thread holding your heart together. that song had been special to you for so long, but it only served as a bitter reminder of who you could not have.

you cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore, despondent at the reality you had thought would be different, and embarrassed that you somehow convinced yourself that it would be.

the kiss was never brought up again, not by you or hyuck at least.

chenle apologized afterwards, and when you told him nothing had changed with hyuck—that his assumption was also wrong—he took you for ice cream as an apology and also never mentioned it again, helping you change the subject whenever one of your other friends mentioned it.

though you didn’t think you had it in you at first, you were able to act normal around hyuck. each time you squashed any feelings threatening to surface, you think you somehow conditioned yourself into believing that everything was normal.

you got back to your usual ways with him: weekly smoke sessions, sleepovers, food runs, everything you did as before. just now without the lingering feeling that any of those things were more than platonic. or maybe more so a routine of blocking out any hope that they were.

you’d been doing so well, but with just that one song you’re brought back. as the familiar tune reaches its end, he pulls into chenle’s driveway, and you push down the ache in your chest.

he reaches behind your seat to grab his bag of gifts, and pulls out his pen. “want a hit?” he offers, holding it up to your mouth. like muscle memory you take a hit, letting him hold it for you as you inhale the substance. you could use a bit to calm yourself, and you thank him.

yet the more you try not to think about it, the more the stinging feeling makes its way back up your throat. you ask him for another for good measure, which hyuck has no problem providing. it all feels so natural, rehearsed even, and you want to pat yourself on the back for that.

“ready?” he asks, pocketing his pen and opening his door.

“yeah.” you feel the winter’s chill hit your face as you open the door on your side.

everything is okay. we’re good.

and everything feels okay when you’re brought into the arms of your other closest friends, their rambunctiousness and humor contagious. you’re grateful to have them, even if they put you in a tough spot sometimes. a few shots of tequila and a fat rip or two from chenle’s biggest bong later, your heart feels so light, throat sore from screaming during the various games the host prepared and stomach aching from all the laughter.

you can’t help but notice that you and hyuck aren’t glued to each other’s sides as you usually are.

the reality is that you notice it because you’re the one creating that distance, trying as smoothly as possible to attach yourself to your other friends whenever your best friend seems to hover near you for reasons you can’t explain—you just do.

you’d done fine all year, but seeing him in this setting—the christmas lights, music, and same friends all around—it all brings you back to last year.

you continue through the night repeating this behavior, suddenly feeling the urge to swipe your gifts from under the tree to hand to each friend personally so you have an excuse to stay on the go.

as you walk to the kitchen, gift in hand, you catch chenle grabbing more alcohol from his freezer. a little drunk, he lights up at the sight of you, setting down the bottles and meeting you at the kitchen’s entrance. he holds his hands out excitedly once he catches sight of your wrapped gift.

you laugh and place it in his hands. “merry christmas, lele, and thank you for always hosting.” he brings you into a bear hug, cooing at your gratitude.

“you don’t have to thank me, but it does feel good,” he laughs, and you find that you can’t hold back from laughing along. “by the way…” his voice lowers to a volume only the two of you can hear.

“why are you avoiding hyuck? did something happen?” he asks with a twinge of genuine concern. “he’s been following you around all day like a kicked puppy, and i’ve seen you everywhere but with him.”

caught red-handed, your face heats in embarrassment that your actions were not only noticeable to him, but that it’s also noticeably affected hyuck. you really didn’t mean to make it a spectacle, there was just something in you that repelled you from him like magnets of the same pole.

“you avoided him so much he went to go sulk and smoke outside,” he chides. “without you. when does he ever do that?”

your face falls. he did? chenle was right, he never smokes without you, making sure to wait for you no matter what you were doing before giving the cue to head outside.

“i don’t know, maybe he just wanted to do his own thing,” you shrug, faking nonchalance as best you can. you know this is a consequence of your own actions, and it’s just a smoke break, but who knew it would sting this much?

but it’s not just a smoke break—it was always the moment you felt was reserved for each other. an unspoken promise even in the presence of your other friends.

your thoughts show in your dark expression, which chenle takes note of, pulling his own pen from his pocket and holding it out to you. “looks like you need this more than me right now,” he hands it to you, and you shift it around in your hand.

maybe it would help you relax, to numb your feelings like you’ve been doing. you take a few hits as chenle leaves to retrieve his forgotten bottles of alcohol. it does help- just a bit.

when he returns, you internally pray he’ll drop the subject, but everyone knows chenle is not one to back down.

“so now that you’re relaxed, are you gonna tell me what happened?” any relaxation you might have gotten from your few hits is gone in a second, and you quickly grow irritated.

“nothing happened, and i’m not avoiding him, it’s just-”

“you are avoiding him!” he insists, and in the midst of your quiet squabble, the two of you catch the attention of a bystander.

“oh? chenle…” another of your friends, yangyang, calls. he has a mischievous look on his face, and you’re grateful for the interruption. your attention is also piqued, anticipating what silly antic he might pull.

but chenle’s face drops, smile wiped from his face as yangyang lifts his index finger, pointing up with a devilish grin. your expression mirrors chenle’s once you realize this familiar prank directly affects you, too. it’s like deja vu.

all gratuity flies out the door as you remember what’s pinned so perfectly above the door.

see, you and hyuck weren’t the only ones chenle got with his mistletoe prank the previous year, with yangyang and shotaro falling victim when they unknowingly lingered a bit too long under the bundle of leaves. after this second round, everyone humorously dashed through the kitchen entrance whenever they needed to go in and made sure not to linger at the entrance.

chenle would never pass up a good prank, and the mistletoe was apparently funny enough for him to carry into this year, but he must have been more drunk than you thought to have forgotten that he put it in the exact same place. you felt stupid for letting your guard down.

yangyang whistles, obviously delighted at his chance for revenge, not caring who gets caught in the crossfire. he sucks in a deep breath before beginning the familiar grating chant.

“kiss! kiss! kiss!”

giselle, jaemin, and mark take notice, too, and it’s only a matter of seconds before they join in on the fun.

you feel like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide as you shake your head at them, throwing your hands up in an “x.” you look at chenle who’s also in the same boat, regretting so deeply that he ever set this up to begin with.

“no, no, no, no,” he refuses, but the crowd grows and each second of peer pressure weighs on him heavily.

like you said, chenle is not one to back down. you know your friend too well—he’d never live it down if he didn’t hold himself to the same stupid games he required of everyone else, and when he plants his hands on your shoulders, you can tell he’s conflicted.

“is this okay?” he asks, and for a second you actually consider saying yes to end this predicament as soon as possible.

but you’re left with no room to entertain that thought as a slightly clammy, rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you from chenle’s grasp.

you’d know it anywhere.

you’re met with the sight of your best friend’s back, his fluffy hair now tucked under a cozy black beanie—one you gave him last year before everything went down. he storms angrily with wide shoulders through the small gathering of friends, whose chants have turned into gasps and oooooh’s. you catch a bit of a mixture of excited squeals and screams behind you once the two of you are out of sight.

you’re grateful that hyuck gave you a way out of that situation, but now you’re in an arguably worse place, faced with the man you’ve been avoiding all night. you get a whiff of his usual cologne, and it’s tinged with the slightest hint of weed.

chenle was right, he was out there smoking without you, and that actually hits you harder than you thought it would. it stings even though you were the one keeping your distance.

yes, being with him in this setting brings up the throbbing in your heart that you’ve buried for the past year, but being apart from him during what’s supposed to be another fun memory for the two of you hurts just as much.

he leads you outside, your body shivering as it meets the cold air, dragging you along by the wrist. he opens the passenger side door of his car.

“get in,” he says gruffly, and for some reason, only now do you feel the need to challenge him.

“why?” you ask, a hint of sass to your tone. he seems shocked at your questioning, sputtering a bit.

“i need to talk to you!” he insists, shiver running down his spine as the cold starts to set in.

“can’t we just talk out here?” you bite back. hyuck has technically done nothing to warrant this behavior from you, but you’re panicking.

“it’s cold as fuck! you’re acting like you didn’t ride this same car here today—are you scared of me or something?” he questions, exasperated at your sudden stubbornness.

but you’re not scared of him—you could never be scared of hyuck.

you’re scared of what you might say, what he might say, and what the outcome of the conversation that will inevitably take place in that car might be. you’re scared that it will mess up everything you tried so hard to keep normal—whatever normal is between the two of you now.

his glaring eyes soften as he reads yours, seeing and sensing your distress. you’re his best friend, too, after all.

“please?” he asks again, softer this time. “it’s really, really, cold. you’ll get sick..” your heart lurches.

you know he’s right, and it almost angers you how easily you give in, sliding into the seat wordlessly. he closes the door and shuffles to the back of his car. you hear him click open the trunk, grabbing something before slamming it shut and darting to the driver’s side door.

as he rushes in, he tosses a red plaid blanket onto you, letting out a high pitched sigh at his escape from the cold and rubbing his hands together to warm them. he’s always kept an emergency blanket back there for you knowing your distaste for the cold, but you almost want to shove it back in his face.

a shiver rushes through you, silencing anymore stubborn thoughts, and you unravel and drape it over yourself. you direct your attention to his window, the christmas decorations on chenle’s lawn seeming very interesting in this moment.

“so what’s this all about?” he finally speaks up.

“what do you mean?” you feign ignorance, but of course hyuck does not buy it.

“oh, you don’t know? just the way you’ve been avoiding me since the second we walked into this house?” he glares at the back of your head. “the way you won’t even look at me?” he seethes, and you can’t even deny that, turning and finally bringing yourself to lay your eyes on him.

in contrast to his angry tone, his expression is so sad. you don’t ever think you’ve seen him like this, and the fact that you’re the reason for it could make you cry. but you’re sad, too, and you don’t know what to do about it.

“you didn’t do anything, i’m just—” you scour your mind for any excuse, “—not feeling the best.”

he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, brows furrowing at your obvious lie.

“well, you looked fine a second ago,” he spits angrily. “you know, with chenle and all that..”

you almost forgot that hyuck rescued you from what could have been a very uncomfortable experience, but wait—what does he mean? you weren’t fine at all, but if you seemed to be fine to him, why did he take you away?

“what..?”

“you seemed to be ready to kiss him! i get it’s a prank, but are you okay with just kissing anyone?” he takes his beanie off and tosses it onto his dashboard, running his hands through his hair frustratedly. “don’t tell me you have a thing for him or something?”

you’re silent for a moment, not understanding where this conversation is going. “why are you mad?” you ask, heat building in your chest. you’re not sure what it is.

“why wouldn’t i be?” he looks at you. “you’re obviously avoiding me, but you won’t tell me what’s wrong, and now i find out you have something going on with chenle? that’s news to me..” his hands grip the steering wheel tightly. “you’re my best friend—we don’t keep things from each other.”

your chest feels like it might burst, all emotions you’ve tried to suppress for the past year—no, years now—bubbling to the surface. you’ve kept so much from him, and you’ve had enough. you did your best to convince yourself things were normal, that everything was okay, but they’re not.

the reality of that hits you square in the chest, sending words tumbling out before you can push them down.

“i don’t want to be just your best friend, hyuck..” his gaze shifts to one of alarm, taking offense.

“wh-”

“i like you, you fucking idiot,” you blurt out angrily, stopping him in his tracks. his mouth drops, words lost on his tongue.

“there’s nothing going on with chenle—i didn’t want to kiss him, i wanted to kiss you!” your hands are trembling at this point. “i wanted to kiss you last year— the year before, and before that. i still want to this year.” your hands ball into fists as you try to keep a grip on yourself.

“i want to kiss you, i want to hold you, i want you to hold me- and not like a best friend does.” you bring your face to your hands, covering your eyes as you pray that no tears form.

“that stupid mistletoe showed me that you don’t feel the same, and i just couldn’t keep it together being in the same exact place as last year..” your words trail off, your train of thought drifting as soon as you feel your nose sting, your eyes welling up.

your chest still burns, frustration and regret filling it. yet there’s a cathartic feeling along with it, letting the feelings you kept for so long free. hyuck is at a loss for words at your confession, and the frustration takes hold.

“can you say something? anything?” you plea, aggravated by his silence.

you hate that hope still lingers, whispering that he just might prove you wrong. you need him to tell you that you fucked everything up, that your relationship will change forever.

“i don’t know what to say..” he finally replies, and disappointment floods your system. you already knew this was gonna be a disaster, but you can’t take this anymore.

you need to get out of there.

you shake your head, a few tears escaping your eyes, and reach for the door handle, intending to escape back into the house, or your place, or who knows where. anything would be better than this.

“WAIT!” a long arm juts out, and hyuck leans over the center console of his car, holding the car door shut with wide eyes. “don’t just leave, what the hell?”

“i need to if you’re not gonna say anything after i just poured my heart out to you!”

“i’m sorry—wait, i’m processing!” he stubbornly holds onto the door handle, and you glare at him. “i’m just- i’m a little high, just give me a second.” you scoff at his reply, feeling a bit of pettiness emerge.

“yeah, i bet that blunt tasted so good without me.” you know you must sound childish, but you can’t help it, hoping your attitude will dissuade him from preventing you from leaving.

he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “you were avoiding me!” his irritated tone returns, and his hold on the door handle slackens. immediately you take advantage of the opening, clicking the door open.

before you can open it any further, he grasps your hand closest to him, squeezing desperately.“don’t go.”

the look in his eyes is pleading, and any resolve you had to leave melts immediately. “please, __.” the way he says your name makes your heart lurch once more—so much so that it takes the fight right out of you.

you pull the door shut.

you stay like that for a few minutes, and he shifts to interweave his fingers with yours, taking time to process his thoughts. your heart is beating out of your chest, but the rhythmic stroking of hyuck’s thumb over yours calms you enough to stay put.

“so you’re telling me you’ve been holding this in the whole year?” he asks, sounding of slight disbelief. you nod silently, just wanting to hear what he has to say.

“well,” he starts. “i think i have a lot to apologize for.”

apologize? he apologized for the kiss right after it happened, so what could it be now? for not returning your feelings? you wish he’d pull the trigger and get it over with. his thumb stops its movements as he squeezes your hand even tighter.

“i’m sorry for the way i played it all off, and that i didn’t notice you were suffering alone all this time.” you shake your head and try to deny it—after all, you were the one who chose to keep it in, but he continues.

“i’m sorry for getting angry earlier and not understanding where you were coming from. and i’m sorry again for putting you in an uncomfortable situation last year, even if it was uncomfortable for a different reason than i thought.”

the tears start to well again. just when you start to feel like you can predict where this conversation is going to go, he pulls your hand toward him, bringing it between both of his and looking straight into your eyes. your breath catches in your throat.

“but most of all,” he clears his throat and swallows, and you brace yourself for his next words. “i’m sorry for being too much of a coward to tell you that i wasn’t actually sorry for that kiss. that i wanted—no, want—to kiss you, too.” he brings your hand to his lips, leaving a soft, feathery peck on the back of it. your jaw drops in shock.

“i got so caught up in not wanting to compromise our friendship, i didn’t even stop to consider if that’s what you wanted. but i want to be so much more than best friends. i have for a while now, and i’m sorry you had to say it first.”

you can’t hold back anymore, sniffling as tears now fully glide down your cheeks, emotions pouring in the presence of the confession you resigned yourself to never having. all the doubts and excuses you made for your own affections seem to disappear into thin air.

he tugs you to him, holding you as best he can over his console.

“i’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, stroking the back of your neck, letting your tears take their course. is this really happening?

his hands cup your face, pouting at the tears running down your face, and the feathery touches and warmth of his lips on your cheeks as he kisses your tears away tell you it’s all reality.

you lean into him comfortably, and he lets you stay as long as you need.

it’s almost pitch black outside aside from chenle’s brightly decorated house, and a little while passes before either of you say anything, your tears dried significantly. hyuck rubs your back before sitting back up in his seat.

”let me grab something. i’ll be quick okay?” hyuck assures, separating from you. though you don’t want to let him go, you nod, and he exits the car quickly, rushing back inside the house. you close your eyes and lean back in the passenger seat, feeling exhausted yet so, so much lighter.

you almost start to doze off when he rushes back in, letting out a trill as he shakes off the cold. “everyone’s playing rage cage, i don’t even think we’re on their minds at all,” he laughs. you’re glad, but you know you’ll have a lot of explaining to do later. at least your explanation will be a happy one.

“they were right by the kitchen door, though, so i had to improvise,” he huffs, digging through his pocket. “i think we need a do-over.”

he pulls something from his pocket wrapped in a tissue, and when he unravels it, the sight elicits a hearty laugh from your very core at his creative solution for the lack of mistletoe.

dangling from his fingers is a red string tied around a bud the size of your palm, its pungent herby smell hitting your nose.

“where the hell did you even get that?” you ask between fits of laughter.

he grins, chuckling along with you. “the weed’s part of chenle’s christmas gift. shh, he doesn’t have to know.” he laughs, pressing a finger up to his mouth. he smiles adoringly at your resulting giggles.

he hooks it up on his rear view mirror between the two of you, raising his eyebrows. “so?”

the feeling in your chest isn’t one that scorches anymore—it’s one as warm as him.

“you know we’re not technically under that,” you gesture to the “mistletoe,” wanting to tease him just a bit before giving in.

“well, i can’t hold it if i’m holding you.”

“you’re crazy.”

he leans in, murmuring under his breath. “yeah, crazy for you.”

you lean in as well, and this time you can commit his lips to memory—warm, slightly chapped, and perfect against your own.

one kiss turns into two, and it all feels too perfect, so much so that you continue to meet over and over again, getting hungrier and hungrier. you’re drawn to each other like magnets until he refuses to separate.

he leaves you breathless as the kisses deepen, a hand snaking around your waist to try and pull you closer, at which a soft sigh escapes your lips into his mouth. he separates with a dazed look in his eyes, his swollen plump lips inviting you back for more. you’re sporting a similar look, and he eats up the sight, gulping as he plans his next words carefully.

“you said you wanted me.. to hold you, right?” he asks, and you tilt your head at him. “did you mean like.. you know?” he bites his lip in anticipation, hand caressing your waist.

“’cause i really want to hold you right now.”

realization dawns on you on what he means, and you recall the words you said to him in your confession.

“i want to kiss you, i want to hold you, i want you to hold me- and not like a best friend does.”

and that still holds true, the warmth between your legs acting as a confirmation for you. you smile, slightly gnawing at the inside of your lip. you push back slightly, hands resting on his chest.

“yes. absolutely.”

“and you’re sure?” his smile matches yours.

“one-hundred percent.”

at your words hyuck springs up, opening his car door and racing to the back seat, opening it and climbing in just as quickly as he left. he pats his lap playfully.

“then get back here, pretty girl.”

he doesn’t have to ask you twice, and you push the blanket to your side as you scramble to join him in the back, his hands guiding you to hover over him. you don’t even care that you’re doing this in his car parked in front of your friend’s house—in this moment, you just want to feel him close to you.

your lips meet again, and his mouth moves over yours greedily. his tongue prods at yours shyly at first, but you quickly feel him bolden as he starts to explore your mouth. he pulls back with a thin string of saliva separating you, and you rest your forehead on his, in awe that he’s actually yours.

“by the way, you’re kind of hot when you’re angry,” he grins, craning his neck to kiss you.

“shut up..” you murmur into his lips, not even able to be annoyed as you let yourself melt back into him. if just kissing him feels this good, you wonder how the rest of this night will go, clenching around nothing. you shiver as his hands glide up your sides and his kisses move lower, ghosting his lips down your neck.

you want to feel him even more. you slowly lower yourself onto him, letting your clothed core meet the obvious hardening bulge in his pants. he lets out a mix between a groan and a sigh, his hands planting themselves firmly on your hips under your sweater.

you love knowing you’re affecting him, and you spread your legs wider, grinding down into him with a bit more force, feeling the vibrations of his low purrs over your skin. “f-fuck,” he groans, fingers digging into the plush of your hips, moving his own hips up to meet your movements.

he continues to kiss your neck, nipping every so often to hear more of the soft sounds escaping your lips. you roll your hips over him with more fervor, your hands threaded through his hair as he continues nibbling and sucking down your neck, undoubtedly leaving at least a couple of marks.

“hyuck,” you sigh as you continue your motions over him, and he hums into your neck, rubbing your hip to encourage you to speak, yet not wanting to separate his lips from you.

“i-i’ve wanted this for so long,” you moan out, and your words stop him in his tracks. he leaves one last love bite below your pulse, finally detaching his mouth from your neck with a wet popping sound.

“fuck— you have no idea.” he tightens his hold on your hips and presses himself harder into you. he snakes a hand into the back of your lounge pants, grabbing a fistful of your ass, squeezing firmly over your underwear as he guides you.

he shifts his hand, hooking it onto your underwear before tugging, and the friction and digging of the soaked cloth into your clit has you moaning out loud.

you pull your matching christmas sweater off and over your head, and he separates his hands from you to do the same with his own. just the feeling of his skin on yours has you reeling, reveling in the heat exuding from his body.

you attach your lips back to his, but he pushes your hips up and back, creating a gap between you two. you separate to question him, but he chases your lips, moving his hand down to cup your heat. you can feel your arousal sticking to your underwear, and you know he can feel it through your pants.

he grins into your mouth, separating to shoot you a teasing look. “god, you like me that much?”

even in this situation, he knows exactly what makes you tick, but you don’t have it in you to fight him, especially when he slides his hand past your waistband, down the front of your pants and underwear, parting your folds with his fingers. “hmm?”

you moan out as he prods his fingers around your folds, gathering your wetness on his digits. “a-ah, yes,” you cry out once his fingers start to circle your clit gingerly, eyes squeezing shut. his eyes are trained on every change of your expression with the movements of his fingers.

“like this, baby?” your thighs tremble as he continues, moving his slicked up fingers to your entrance. his middle and ring fingers poke at your hole, and your pussy clenches as if to try and trap them.

“more, hyuck, please,” you plea, and he’s more than happy to oblige, fucking his fingers into you bit by bit.

you grind against his hand, trying to push his fingers deeper into you, loving the way he stretches you out as he explores your plush walls. his fingers build up speed, aided by your dripping juices, and his palm grinds against your clit deliciously.

panting, you crack open your eyes, and you’re met with his lidded gaze. he looks at you like he wants to eat you whole and you clench around his fingers at the sight. his eyebrow quirks up curiously. “what are you thinking about, pretty?”

you pull your lips between your teeth, trying to formulate a sentence with his fingers pistoning in and out of you. “j-just feels so good, hyuck.”

his lips move over yours before you even finish his name, devouring you messily as he murmurs praises into your mouth. “fuck me- how’re you so fucking perfect.”

he continues to fuck his fingers into you, and you feel your stomach tightening, thighs threatening to give out at this point. “can you cum for me? c’mon pretty girl—for your hyuckie.”

he doesn’t even have to ask, already sending shocks down your spine with a curling of his fingers. you cry out as he hits a spot just right, moving your hips over his palm before you seize, mouth opening as you’re hurled into your orgasm.

he meets your lips once more, one hand still in your pants and the other guiding your hips coaxing you through your orgasm as he swallows your breathy moans.

you separate as you ride the aftershocks, catching your breath. “you okay?” you fall into his lap as he slips his hand from your pants, resting it on your thigh. he checks in on you, peering at your face for any signs of discomfort. you nod, taking a second to recover.

“i’m fine,” you start, but you can’t ignore the way his confined member pokes through his pants at your inner thigh. “but are you okay?”

he inhales sharply as you shift against it, but gives you a strained smile. “are you tired?”

you shake your head, lifting yourself fully off of him on shaky thighs, shimmying your pants and underwear off as best you can in the cramped space. if anything, you’re invigorated at the clear sign of his desire for you.

you tug at the waistband of his pants, assuring him that you want to keep going. “no- i want you to feel good, too.”

he lays his head back in his seat, groaning as he immediately slips his pants down his thighs to free his member. it slaps against his stomach, his tip angry and leaking.

you settle back over him, rolling your hips as his member slides between your slick, sensitive folds. your moans meld as his hips jerk against yours, coating his shaft in your juices. your cunt is so sensitive and you can feel your thighs burning, but this was a challenge you wouldn’t give up on.

you raise yourself, guiding his member to you waiting hole, and it’s your turn to watch as his expression changes. he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gasps when the head of his cock catches your entrance. stuttered groans laced with higher moans leave his throat as you lower yourself onto him, inch by inch.

the stretch burns so deliciously, and your insides flutter around him as you try to take all of it, whimpering as you push him in deeper. his fingers bury themselves into the plush of your hips, trying to ground himself as you clench around him. “s-so fucking tight, baby.”

his words only serve to turn you on more, and by the time you sheath yourself over him completely, you already feel fucked out, holding his shoulders to steady yourself.

“y-yeah- yeah, want you to feel good, hyuck,” you repeat, using all of your strength to prop yourself up, pulling out to his tip before slamming yourself back down on him.

he feels the air leave his lungs, crying out at the sudden sensation. you continue moving yourself over him, again feeling the burn in your thighs more than ever, trying to stay focused even as you feel his cock reach so deep into you.

“so fucking perfect, so fucking perfect for me my pretty baby— a-ah shit,” he rambles, heaving and lost in the pleasure of your warm walls.

you try to keep a consistent pace spurred on by his moans, taking in the way he heaves out strings of jumbled curses and praises, but the way his tip reaches into your core makes your legs start to feel like jelly. even though you do your best to keep up the tempo, your speed falters.

even in his haze, hyuck senses your struggle and immediately takes over, gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises and snapping his hips into you.

his harsh thrusts have you throwing your head back, and he sets a pace of his own, driving his cock so deeply into you. the whole car sways as the two of you rock into each other, harsh breathing, moans, and the sounds of skin on skin filling the space.

“god,” he moans, one hand leaving your hips momentarily to tug your head back to him, locking lips between gasps. he replants his hands, pounding into you at an even faster speed, his strength taking over as yours leaves you. “i’m not gonna last, fuck—give me one more, c’mon.”

you focus in on the drag of his cock through the grip of your walls, feeling the way he fills you up so perfectly, and it has you teetering over the edge. “y-yes baby, that’s it,” he encourages, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth as you pulse around him.

he brings you in for one last tender kiss, parting with the most adoring gaze you’ve ever seen in your life, warmth flooding his eyes as he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

you feel the stinging sensation in your nose once again, suddenly emotional at the way you’re so sure he looks at you the same way you look at him. the proof is right in front of you.

“i love you,” he whispers, and that’s all it takes before you’re spasming over his cock, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him close to you as you cum for the second time that night.

he curses, helping you ride out your orgasm until he feels his own hips stutter. your pulsing threatens to milk him dry, and he pulls out at the last second, cum spurting over both of your lower abdomens, rutting against you to ride it out and empty himself.

his hands slither around your mid-section, holding you tightly to him as the two of you catch your breath, and his head falls to your shoulder, breathing harshly into your skin. your hands fall from his neck and you lean your head against his, both of you basking in your post-climax daze.

condensation fogs the car windows completely, and you don’t know how much time has passed. your clothes are scattered— matching christmas sweaters lie haphazardly thrown in the front, your pants strewn on the floor, the edge of your emergency blanket peeking between the seats.

he lifts his head and holds onto you, leaning forward slightly to tug at the blanket until it’s freed from where you left it tucked. he leans back again, wrapping the both of you in it as the chill settles back into the car at your stillness.

you focus on the feeling of hyuck’s warmth, one of his hands remaining anchored around you as the other falls to your thigh to absentmindedly massage the sore muscles.

“i love you, too,” you whisper, and he responds by peppering kisses along your chin. the two of you just sit there for a while, warming yourselves in each other’s embrace. you’re almost certain that your friends must be curious now about what’s going on, but you pay no mind to that thought.

“i’m so happy,” you beam, not even meaning to let the words leave your thoughts—they just slip out, a true indication that your joy is genuine and raw.

hyuck gives you a once over, taking in your disheveled appearance, lovestruck eyes, and overall glow even tucked in the cozy fabric—his look indeed mirrors your own. his eyes trace over you until they land back at your lips, to which he’s drawn again. his mouth meets yours tiredly, yet full of his passion for you.

“this is a good look on you,” he coos, moving a hand up to gently cup your face. you lean into his touch, taking in every sensation and storing it in your memories, still slightly in disbelief that you were wrong about everything—you never had to deny yourself of your affections.

“let’s ditch and go home, yeah?” he suggests, the goofy grin you’ve always known lighting his face.

your mind briefly flashes again to your friends. “you don’t think they’ll be mad?”

“they’ll understand,” he shrugs. “besides..”

his eyes look past you to the makeshift “mistletoe” still hung on his mirror, “you owe me a smoke session,” he chirps, chuckling to himself at his own antics.

“right, and you owe me for all this lost time,” you shoot back, meeting his playful look with your own. he kisses you again gently, unrestrainedly smiling against your lips.

“trust me, i’ll make it up to you until you forget there ever was lost time.”

a/n: late christmas fic!! thank you for reading <3 one last love letter to my favorite man to close out the year, and what a great year it has been :’) i never imagined this blog would grow as much as it did this past year. 2024 has solidified such a fun community and creative outlet in my life, and i’m so grateful for all of it!!!!! as always, special shout out to my bb and also someone i'm very grateful came to me in 2024 (technically) @wispyxjae for beta reading and being my #1 supporter!!!

we've built a hazyhome, and i love all of u my hazyhomies :3 (too corny? actually idc) thank you so much for an amazing year, and i can’t wait to see what 2025 brings. :D merry belated christmas and happy new year!!!

as always, shares and feedback are always appreciated :>

- coco ♡ ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

[like-supercute]

‘yes, professor?’

professor! jung jaehyun x reader

smut, 1.5k words

it starts with whispers. nothing concrete, just hints scattered in the air like cigarette smoke curling in the hallways after late-night classes. you hear about him before you meet him: jung jaehyun, the youngest literature professor in the department, rumored to have a sharp tongue and a reputation for unraveling students’ egos in seminar discussions. not in the humiliating, arrogant way—he’s too controlled for that. he dismantles arguments with precision, makes you feel the cracks in your logic as if he’s pressing his hands to them. but what everyone talks about isn’t just his intellect. it’s the way he looks, the way he moves—how he reads a passage from paradise lost like he’s seducing the room.

you sign up for his seminar on a whim, telling yourself it’s because you like the syllabus—something about desire and morality in 18th-century literature. it’s a lie, of course. you know exactly why. you’ve seen him once before, walking across campus with a leather-bound notebook tucked under his arm, his fitted dress shirt pulling taut against his shoulders. you’d been curious then. intrigued. and now, sitting in the second row of his seminar, you realize curiosity was too soft a word for what you feel.

the first few weeks are uneventful. he’s strict, dismissive of lazy interpretations, and ruthless about deadlines. when he speaks, it’s with a deliberate cadence, like every word has been measured for weight. he doesn’t look at you—not specifically—but you feel his presence like a charged wire running under the surface of the classroom. and then it happens: he catches you staring during a lecture, his eyes lingering just a moment too long. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to send a rush of heat straight to your stomach.

you don’t mean to push. it starts small—comments in class designed to catch his attention, emails phrased too carefully to be casual. he doesn’t bite, not at first, but there’s a flicker in his gaze every time you speak, a slight pause before he responds. it’s like you’re testing a boundary you’re not even sure exists, prodding the edges of something unspoken.

it shifts one evening during office hours. you come in with a question about your essay, and he barely glances up from his desk, motioning for you to sit. the room smells like old books and his cologne, something warm and musky that sticks to your clothes even after you leave. as you talk, his gaze sharpens, not in the way it does when he’s dissecting someone’s argument, but like he’s reading you, peeling back the layers of what you’re really asking. you stumble over your words, and his mouth twitches—not quite a smile, more like he knows something you don’t.

“you’re distracted,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair. his tone is measured, neutral, but there’s an undertone that makes your stomach tighten.

you make some excuse about being tired, about the pressure of keeping up with his class. he doesn’t buy it. instead, he stands, moving around the desk to lean against it, arms crossed. he’s closer now, the sharp line of his jaw more prominent under the low light of the desk lamp.

“you’re a good writer,” he says, and it’s the first compliment he’s ever given you. “but you hold back. afraid of pushing too far, maybe.”

the air between you stretches thin. you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod, your throat dry. his eyes drop to your lips for a fraction of a second, and you know you didn’t imagine it this time.

“i think you know how to take risks,” he continues, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “you just need the right… incentive.”

it’s not an invitation, not yet, but it plants something in you, something dark and electric. you leave his office flushed, your skin buzzing with the memory of his voice, of the way his eyes lingered just a little too long.

you start to write differently after that. your essays become sharper, more provocative, laced with a kind of defiance you didn’t know you had. when he reads them in class, his comments are laced with a subtle edge, like he’s speaking to you and no one else. it’s maddening, intoxicating. every interaction feels like a game you’re not entirely sure how to play but can’t seem to stop.

the break happens late one evening when you show up to his office after hours, the building nearly empty. you tell yourself it’s about your paper, about some question you need answered, but you know better. and so does he. when he opens the door, his tie is loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes your breath hitch.

“this is inappropriate,” he says, but his voice is thin, stretched too tight. the way his eyes linger on your lips betrays him. he steps aside, letting you in, the door clicking shut behind you like a trigger. the space shrinks, the air heavy, pressing down on your chest.

you’re not sure who moves first. it’s a blur of tension snapping, his hands grabbing your hips, your body colliding with his desk as his mouth crashes into yours. the kiss is bruising, all heat and hunger, the faint taste of coffee and mint on his tongue. your back arches into him as his hands slide up your thighs, rough and impatient, pulling your skirt higher.

“do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he growls against your lips, his cock already hard and pressing against your stomach. his hands are rough on your ass, pulling you closer, making you feel every inch of his need as he bites down on your neck. “every fucking time you walk into my class with those tight little skirts, pretending you don’t know what you’re doing—this is what you’ve been asking for, isn’t it?”

“yes, sir,” you whimper, breathless, gripping his shoulders. “please, i’ll be good. i’ll do anything.”

his eyes darken, and before you can say more, he grabs your hips, spinning you around and slamming you against the desk. the edge digs into your thighs as he presses you flat against it, his body caging yours. “anything?” he repeats, his voice dripping with dominance. “then stop pretending to be so fucking innocent and take it like you’ve been begging for.”

his hands yank your blouse open, buttons scattering across the floor as he pulls down your bra, exposing your breasts to the cool air. his mouth is on you instantly, sucking and biting at your nipples, his teeth scraping just enough to make you gasp. his hands slide up your thighs, bunching your skirt around your hips. when his fingers find your pussy, he groans, deep and guttural.

“you’re soaked,” he mutters, pushing two fingers inside you, slow but deliberate. “all semester, acting so innocent, sitting in my class with this pussy dripping and waiting for me.”

“i—i couldn’t help it,” you stammer, your voice high-pitched and needy as his fingers curl inside you. “you’re so hot, professor. i just want to be your favorite.”

he lets out a low, dark laugh, pulling his fingers out and grabbing your hips to flip you over, slamming you down against the desk. “oh, you’re my favorite,” he growls, his voice dripping with heat as he unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking sharp in the silence. “and i’m going to fuck you like it—fill this pussy so good you’ll never want anything else.”

the clink of his belt barely registers before he pulls his cock free, thick and leaking, the sight alone making you clench. he lines up and thrusts into you in one brutal motion, his cock stretching you so perfectly it steals the air from your lungs.

“fuck,” he groans, his grip on your hips bruising as he sets a punishing rhythm, driving into you so hard the desk shakes beneath you. “you feel that? this is what happens to little sluts who tease me all semester.”

“yes, sir,” you moan, your nails dragging against the desk as he pounds into you, each thrust stealing the breath from your lungs. “mmm—fuck—your cock’s so good, professor. i’ll be so good for you—promise.”

“you better be,” he growls, leaning over you, his teeth grazing your ear. “because this pussy is mine now. no one else gets to touch it.”

his hand slides between your legs, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles that make your body shake. “come on,” he growls, slamming into you harder. “take it. take every inch like a good girl.”

your walls clench around him as the pressure builds, your cries turning into screams as pleasure crashes through you, leaving you shaking beneath him. his thrusts grow erratic, his grip tightening as he buries himself deep, his cock twitching as he spills inside you with a guttural groan.

he stays there for a moment, his cock still throbbing inside you, his breath hot against your ear. “look at you,” he murmurs, almost mockingly. “all fucked out and stupid for me. maybe now you’ll learn how to behave in my class.”

but as his lips brush against your ear, there’s no mistaking the hunger still burning in his voice. you both know this isn’t over.

it’s only the beginning.

[like-supercute]

wicked love

PAIRING ↬ non-idol!na jaemin x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ short lived-fluff, romance, TOXICITY, horror, supernatural, kinda unsettling, SOOO CREEPY, if bad why hot? au, oomfs pointed out this is kinda like wandavision and now i'm realizing it does so maybe wandavision au

WARNINGS ↬ horror, yandere!!! (read at your own risk!)

SUMMARY ↬ his love his perfect. but perfection comes with a price.

WORD COUNT ↬ 5.4k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ guys i think the voices are getting louder (ty to queens @yizhrt @peterm4rker @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading 🙏)

PLAYLIST ↬ rhinestone eyes - gorillaz; nightmares - the boyz; wicked love - yena; doll - gidle; the perfect girl - mareux

YOU NEEDED A FRESH START.

The train slows to a halt, the perfect little town laid out in front of your eyes. You step onto the platform, the scent of flowers filling the air. 

The town looks like a postcard-perfect town, almost like you’re staring at a travel brochure rather than the real thing. The cobblestone streets appear to be smoothed down over time. A few locals pass by, nodding at you with warm smiles. 

There’s something about this place. It feels timeless, almost, like it came straight out of your dreams. Maybe this will be home. Maybe it’s exactly the fresh start you need from your damaging past.

Your new apartment, right next to the main square, is perfect. Lace curtains sway gently in the breeze, creating a comfy atmosphere. You unpack your bags, starting to convince yourself this was the right move. A quieter life, far from the chaos you left behind.

The next morning, you walk into your new job at the café, a cute little shop with pastel walls and pastries that look too good to eat. Mrs. Kim, the owner, greets you with a smile that feels practiced but kind.

“Welcome, dear,” she says, her tone both warm and firm. “I can tell you’re nervous, but I have confidence you’ll fit in just fine. Everyone does.”

Encouraged by her kind words, you dive into the work, immersing yourself in the comforting rhythm of brewing coffee and arranging pastries. Simplicity is desperately needed.

Then the bell over the door chimes, and you glance up ready to greet your next customer. But what you see makes you freeze in place.

A man walks in with confidence, his dark eyes surveying the room before landing on you. His presence is drawing, his sharp cheekbones and warm smile seem to stand out in this quiet little town. For a moment, it feels like the entire café is holding its breath, waiting for him to order.

“Americano, please,” he says, his voice smooth but casual. His gaze doesn’t cease, even as you fumble slightly while writing his name on his drink. ‘Jaemin’. When you hand it to him, his fingers brush yours, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

“You’re new,” he states, not a question but an observation, his head tilted slightly as if he’s trying to read you.

You nod, flustered. “Just moved in yesterday.”

He continues to smile. “I’m happy to run into you then. Welcome.”

Instead of leaving, Jaemin takes a seat by the window, sipping his coffee while his attention drifts back and forth between you and the window. His gaze lingers just long enough to make your cheeks turn red. 

When your shift ends, you’re surprised to see him outside, leaning casually against the lamppost. The setting sun just adds to the beautiful sight right in front of you.

“I thought I’d walk you home,” his eyes steady, with some concern. “It’s getting late.”

The streets are quiet, and there doesn’t seem to be much danger present. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to decline. You nod, and he falls into step beside you.

As the two of you start to walk, he asks questions about you. How was your move, your life before this, what made you pick this town? He listens intently, hanging on to every word as though you’re the most fascinating person in the world. You tell him more than you planned to, and it isn’t until you see the intrigued look on his face that you realize how much you shared.

“What about you?” you ask, shifting the focus on him instead. “Have you been here long?”

“Long enough to know I was waiting for you.”

The line is so smooth it catches you off guard, and your face flushes as he laughs. His laugh is soft and such a pleasing sound that you realize you want to hear it again and again.

The next few weeks with Jaemin feel even more like a fairytale. He seems to appear everywhere. Waiting for you outside the café after your shifts, showing up with your favorite snacks and drinks, surprising you with gifts he claims “just made me think of you.”

One evening, he shows up at your door holding a bouquet of wildflowers. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you,” he says, handing them to you with a grin. “Thought you might need these.”

The flowers seem flawless and smell wonderful. You let him in your apartment, your heart fluttering at his thoughtfulness.

Over time, you notice how precise his attention is. He seems to know exactly what you need. When you mention being cold, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders without a word. When you casually mention a book you’ve been wanting to read ever since you saw it in the library, it shows up on your doorstep the next day with a small note attached to it.

One evening, he takes you to a small park outside of town. A picnic is already waiting. Jaemin is sitting there on a blanket waiting for you to arrive.

“How did you pull this off?” you ask, laughing as you sit down. “It’s like you read my mind.” Just a few days ago, you read a chapter in your book in which the two main characters had also gone on a similar date.

Jaemin grins as he pours you a glass of sparkling cider. “I just know you. That’s what love is, isn’t it? Knowing someone better than they know themselves.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, though you force a smile. You’re not sure why they unsettle you. It’s sweet, isn’t it? That he knows you so well?

As you sit together, Jaemin leans back on his elbows, watching you. “You’re perfect,” he says quietly. “I’ve never met anyone like you. It’s like... you’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

The intensity of his gaze makes you look away, your cheeks heating. But something in his tone feels too polished, almost like he’s practiced it. You brush it off, telling yourself you’re overthinking.

It’s when you go out in town together that you start to notice how people act around him.

At the bakery, Mrs. Kim’s hands tremble as she rings up his order. Her smile is forced, and she avoids looking him in the eye.

After you leave, you curiously ask Jaemin about that interaction, “Was that... normal? She seemed kind of scared of you.”

Jaemin shrugs, brushing it off. “She’s just shy. Some people are like that.”

You’re not convinced, Mrs. Kim never seemed shy when the two of you worked together. But his casual tone makes it hard to push, so you let it slide for now.

—

Later, at the market, a man accidentally bumps into Jaemin, knocking over a fruit display. The man’s face seems to pale as he stammers out apologies, frantically trying to fix the mess. Jaemin couldn’t control the scowl that emerged on his face, as the man scurried away.

You lean toward Jaemin, whispering, “It was just an accident. You don’t need to glare at him like that.”

Jaemin turns to you, smiling again. “I wasn’t glaring,” he says calmly. “People here are just... respectful. They know better than to be careless.”

The edge in his voice makes your stomach twist, but you’re unsure how to respond.

—

That evening, when he takes you back to your apartment, you decide to bring it up again. “Jaemin, do you notice how nervous people are around you? It’s like they’re scared of you or something.” 

Jaemin pauses, and for a split second, you swear that his image cracked before snapping back into place. “It’s not fear,” he says, his tone even. “It’s respect. People here understand boundaries. They treat each other the right way. Don’t you feel it? Safer, calmer, happier?”

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel like he’s waiting for you to agree. You nod slowly, though a part of you doesn’t want to. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just... different from what I’m used to.”

Jaemin steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s why you belong here,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “Somewhere where no one will ever hurt you again.”

The way he says it makes your breath hitch. They’re comforting, but there’s a weight to his words that leaves you uneasy.

—

Later that night, lying in bed, you replay the day’s events in your head—Mrs. Kim’s trembling hands, the man at the market, and the way Jaemin’s smiles sometimes feel too sharp, too practiced, too unsettling. You try to tell yourself it’s nothing, that you’re just adjusting to this new place, this new life, and a new relationship. But deep down, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling you have. Something about Jaemin and this town feels off. The cracks are starting to form.

It’s the little things at first.

The mirror above your dresser shatters without warning while you’re brushing your hair, splintering your reflection. You freeze, staring at your fragmented reflection. It almost looks like your face is splintering apart. You reach out, your hand hovering just inches from the broken surface. 

The door suddenly swings open, and Jaemin who was staying the night appears, his expression calm. “What happened?” He reaches out to stop your fingers from touching the broken glass.

“I don’t know.” you stammer. “It just… cracked. I didn’t even touch it” You shook your head, trying to process what you just saw. 

He steps forward, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he examines the mirror. “It’s probably old. I’ll get you a new one. Don’t worry about it.” But something about his tone that makes you feel like he’s brushing it off on purpose. 

Later, you catch him staring at the shattered mirror, his reflection fragmented into dozens of pieces.

—

The next time you’re at Jaemin’s house while walking through the hallway, you notice the wallpaper seemingly peeling at the edges. Stepping closer seems to reveal a dark surface beneath. Your fingers trace along the seam absentmindedly, curiosity getting the best of you. When you gently tug the loose edge, a chunk tears free, exposing the wood underneath. It was blackened and warped, as though it’s been rotting for years.

You stare at it, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. How could a house so immaculate have something like this hidden beneath its surface?

“What are you doing?”

You whirl around, the scrap of wallpaper still in your hand as you turn to face Jaemin in the hallway. He’s standing behind you, quiet and still. “It was already peeling,” you say quickly. “I just wanted to see what was underneath.”

His eyes flicker to the exposed wood, then back to you. For a split second, his face seems to literally crack almost like his face was supposedly ceramic, before mending itself together. “I’ll fix it. You don’t need to worry about things like this.”

He steps closer, gently taking the torn wallpaper from your hands. His touch is light and tender, but the air feels different now.

“You shouldn’t bother with things that aren’t important,” Jaemin says softly, his tone almost pleading. “Just focus on us. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

You nod, but as he turns away, you notice his grip on the torn wallpaper tighten, his knuckles whitening as he walks down the hall.

—

The cracks aren’t just in the walls or the mirrors. They’re in him, too, and maybe you weren’t hallucinating when you saw his skin actually crack.

One night, you’re sitting together in his living room, the fireplace filling the room with warmth. Jaemin’s hand is wrapped around yours, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles against your skin.

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve this. You. You’re too perfect for someone like me.”

You laugh softly, brushing off his words. “You’re being dramatic again.”

He looks at you then, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world spins. His eyes are dark, almost bottomless, and there’s something lurking there—something raw and desperate, as though he’s holding on to you with every ounce of his being. Jaemin’s voice trembles slightly. “I mean it. You don’t understand how much you matter to me. I can’t lose you.”

There’s an intensity in his words that makes your heart race, but not in the way it usually does. You try to look away, but his grip on your hand tightens, not painfully, but enough to make you pause.

Then his expression changes. His smile fades, and his face hardens. The cracks start to appear again, this time more obvious than before.

You pull your hand away slightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Jaemin. You don’t have to worry about that.”

His smile returns instantly, the cracks once again vanishing as though they had never been there. “I know. I just get... carried away sometimes.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but even as his lips brush your skin, the unease still lingers.

—

It gets worse after that. The cracks spread everywhere. Not just to the mirrors and walls, but to everything in the town. One night, the streetlight outside your building starts flickering which casts shadows across the pavement. The ground seems to ripple as if the cobblestones were water rather than stone. 

When you tell Jaemin about it, he dismisses it with that too-smooth tone you’ve come to dread.

“You’ve been working too much. You need to rest. You’re probably just really tired.”

But you know what you saw.

—

The tipping point comes when you’re alone at his house again. You’re standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, the edges of the glass framed by intricate gold. As you stare at your reflection, the surface begins to distort. Slowly, your features start stretching unnaturally, twisting your perception. You blink, and the image snaps back to normal.

But when you look closer, you realize your reflection isn’t blinking anymore. It’s staring at you, unblinking and unmoving, a faint smile curling at the corners of its lips.

“Stop looking so hard.”

You spin around to find Jaemin standing in the doorway, his eyes darker than usual.

He smiles at you faintly, “Some things aren’t meant to be questioned.”

His words echo in your mind long after he leaves the room. You stare at the mirror again, but this time, you don’t dare move closer.

The first argument starts late at night, the room dimly lit, with untouched plates of food between the two of you. Your frustration finally boils over after weeks of feeling watched, cornered, and controlled.

You stand up suddenly. “I need space, Jaemin. I can’t keep doing this.”

His smile vanishes, replaced by something unreadable. He leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, his gaze pierces through you. “Space? From me?”

You nod, your voice shaking. “Yes. From you, from... this. I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. Everything’s too... perfect. It doesn’t feel real.”

For a moment, Jaemin says nothing. His jaw tightens, and his fingers drum against the table. When he finally speaks, his tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it that sends a chill through you. “After everything I’ve done for you, you want to leave?”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving,” you start, trying to explain, “I’m just saying I need–”

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His voice rises, cutting you off. “You don’t need anything! I’ve given you everything! This town, this life, me... Isn’t that enough for you?”

You take a step back, started by his outburst. You can literally hear your heart pounding now. His sudden anger feels like a slap in the face, shattering the careful illusion of calm he’s always maintained. “You’re not listening to me, Jaemin. I never asked for this perfect little world you’ve created. I just wanted you.”

That seems to break something in him. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You need this. You need me. Without me, you’d be miserable. Lost.” He moves closer, his face contorting with a mixture of frustration and desperation.

You shake your head, tears blurring your vision. “No, Jaemin. That’s what you want me to believe.”

His expression darkens further, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his carefully constructed mask—the raw emotion, the fury barely contained beneath his flawless exterior. “Don’t do this. Don’t ruin everything. This is our paradise. Our dream.” His words come out frantic as if he’s trying to convince both you and himself.

“Paradise?” You step further back, your voice still firm. “This isn’t paradise, Jaemin. This is a prison.”

And that’s when Jaemin snaps.

“You don’t get it!” His voice is sharp as it rings through the house. “Paradise is only perfect if you don’t leave!”

The words crash over you, the weight of their meaning sinking into your chest. His voice echoes in your mind, melodic and haunting, like a line from a song you can’t escape.

“I am your paradise. Your dream. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Why can’t you just see that? Why can’t you just stay?” His voice breaks on the last word, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. 

But then his expression hardens again, the desperation twisting into something darker and terrifying.

“I won’t let you ruin this,” he growls, his fists clenched at his sides. “If you won’t stay willingly, I’ll make sure you don’t leave. You’re mine, and nothing will ever change that.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in. “Jaemin... this isn’t love.”

The words seem to shatter him. His face contorts with rage, his hands slowly balling into fists at his sides. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare.”

You take another step back, your eyes darting toward the door, your instincts screaming at you to run. You’ve never felt this kind of fear before.

“You don’t understand. I am love. Everything else is broken, but I’m perfect. For you. For us.” The air between you is heavy, suffocating. Jaemin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes wild.

The words hang in the air, a chilling reminder that the man you thought you knew isn’t the man standing in front of you anymore. 

—

The morning after your argument, you decide to leave. You don’t even know where you’ll go—just that you need to get out of this suffocating place, away from Jaemin and his unnerving obsession.

You pack a small bag with trembling hands, glancing nervously out the window. The streets outside are eerily quiet, the friendliness of the town somehow feels more oppressive than ever.

As you step out of your apartment, your heart sinks. Jaemin is leaning casually against the streetlamp in front of your building, his hands in his pockets and his ever-perfect smile in place.

“Going somewhere, love?”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You force yourself to stay calm, clutching the strap of your bag tighter. “I need some time to myself.”

He tilts his head, studying you intently. “Time to yourself? That doesn’t sound like you. Where would you even go?”

The question catches you off guard. He’s right… you’ve never seen anything beyond this town. …Have you? You don’t even know if there is anything beyond this town. You’ve never ventured out of this town. You’ve lived here all your life. With Jaemin. Just Jaemin.

The thought sends a jolt through you. What is happening?

You shake it off, your voice firmer now. “Anywhere but here, Jaemin. I need to think.”

For a moment, his smile falters. But then it’s back, brighter than ever and more unsettling. “You don’t need to leave to think. Stay here. Let me help you.”

You shake your head, stepping past him, but his hand shoots out, gently grabbing your wrist–not harshly, but enough to stop you in place.

“Don’t do this, Y/N. You’ll regret it.”

You wrench your arm free and start walking, as your heart continues to pound in your chest. His voice follows you, soft and calm yet terrifyingly firm.

“You’ll be back. You always come back. You can never escape.”

—

The next few days are a nightmare. No matter where you go, Jaemin is there. You spot him in the café, sitting in the same seat he first approached you in, watching you with that same perfect smile. He’s waiting outside your apartment when you get home from work, leaning against the doorframe like he belongs there.

You even see him in places he shouldn’t be—on the other side of the street when you’re at the grocery store, standing in the shadows of an alley when you’re walking to clear your mind.

You confront him once, your patience snaps. “Are you following me? What the hell, Jaemin?”

He just smiles, tilting his head like you’ve said something funny. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know. To keep you safe.”

It’s infuriating, how calm he is, how he manages to twist every accusation into a declaration of his “love.”

It’s not just Jaemin. The entire town seems to conspire against you. The people smile too widely, their eyes never quite meeting yours. Conversations feel hollow like they’re reciting lines from a script rather than speaking from the heart.

At the market, the woman at the counter refuses to sell you a bus ticket.

“What do you mean, there’s no way out?”

“There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” she says, her tone unnervingly kind. “Everything you need is here.”

Her words echo Jaemin’s, and a sickening realization begins to settle in. You leave the market, your chest tight with frustration and fear.

Even your apartment feels wrong. The walls seem to close in on you, the air growing heavier. You swear you hear whispers late at night, but when you check, no one is there.

—

The final straw comes one night when you confront Jaemin in his house. You storm into his pristine living room, the air thick with tension.

“What is going on, Jaemin? Why is everyone acting like this? Why can’t I leave this town?”

He’s seated calmly on the couch, his hands resting on his knees. When he looks up, his perfect smile is in place, but this time, it carries an edge of something darker. “Why would you want to leave? Everything here is perfect. You’re perfect. We’re perfect.”

“Stop saying that!” you shout, your voice trembling. “Nothing about this is perfect. It’s all fake!”

His expression hardens slightly, though the smile remains. “Fake? Is that what you think? You think the life I built for us is fake?”

You freeze, the weight of his words sinking in. “What do you mean... ‘built’?”

He stands slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he’s giving you time to process. “This town, the people, everything you see—it’s all for you. For us. I created it because I knew you needed something better. Something perfect.”

Your stomach drops, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “That’s... that’s not possible.” 

He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “I’ve given you everything, Y/N. A world where you don’t have to worry, where nothing can hurt you. I’ve even given you pieces of myself—my love, my time, my devotion. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Your voice shakes as you respond. “This isn’t happiness, Jaemin. This is control.”

His jaw tightens, the cracks in his composure finally showing. “No. No, you’re wrong. This is love. I’ve made it perfect for you. Don’t you see? You don’t have to fight anymore. Just... let go.”

You back away, your mind racing. Everything starts to make sense now—the way people seem hollow, the strange cracks in the world, the way Jaemin always seems to know your every thought.

The truth suddenly dawns on you. “Even me... You’ve been controlling me, haven’t you?”

He hesitates. The silence stretches for a moment too long before he replies, his voice softer, almost pleading. “I didn’t want to control you. I just wanted to protect you. To keep you here, where it’s safe. You’re... you’re slipping away from me, Y/N. And if you go, this world will crumble. I can’t let that happen.”

His words are a plea and a threat all at once, and for the first time, you see him for what he truly is: not just a possessive lover, but the creator of this fragile, crumbling reality.

You spend the next few days searching for an escape, though you’re not entirely sure what “escape” even means in this twisted, fabricated reality. The cracks in the world are growing more pronounced—literal fissures splitting the pavement, flickers of darkness creeping at the edges of your vision, and moments where the townspeople freeze mid-motion, like broken puppets.

And Jaemin? He’s watching you closer than ever, though he never confronts you outright. You can feel his eyes on you wherever you go, a shadow that clings to your every step.

One night, while Jaemin is out, you find it—a journal hidden beneath a loose floorboard in your apartment. The pages are filled with strange symbols, diagrams, and what looks like fragmented memories of Jaemin’s thoughts.

One entry catches your eye:

"The anchor must never break. She is the key to keeping the world whole. Without her, there’s nothing."

Your heart races as you piece it together. You’re not just a prisoner in Jaemin’s world—you’re the foundation of it. If you can sever your connection to this place, the entire illusion might collapse. But how?

—

You decide you have to confront him. But not to beg or plead for your freedom—that won’t work. Jaemin is too possessive, too desperate to let you go willingly. No, you’ll have to trick him into believing that you’ve finally given in.

The next evening, you find him at his house. He’s in the living room, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. His expression is distant, almost melancholic.

“Jaemin?”

He turns, and his face lights up when he sees you, the sadness replaced by his usual serene smile. “Y/N. I was wondering when you’d come back to me.”

You force yourself to smile, stepping closer. “You were right. About everything. I’ve been fighting against you, against this... and I don’t know why. It’s perfect here. You’re perfect.”

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope sparking in them. “You mean that?”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve been scared. But I see it now—you love me more than anyone ever could. You’ve built this world for me, and I want to stay.” You reach out to his hand.

His grip tightens on your hand, his smile growing as he pulls you into his arms. “I knew you’d understand. I knew you’d see how much I love you.”

You let him hold you, burying your face against his chest to hide the fear and repulsion you know must be showing on your face.

—

Over the next few days, you pretend to settle into the life Jaemin has crafted for you. You let him dote on you, let the townspeople’s eerie smiles wash over you without flinching. All the while, you gather the pieces you need.

You find an old map in the library, one that shows a strange, unfinished road on the outskirts of town. You overhear snippets of conversation from the townspeople—hushed whispers about “the edge” and “the boundary.”

And then, one night, you’re ready.

You and Jaemin are sitting together in his living room, the fire casting warm light across the walls. You rest your head on his shoulder, your voice is soft and trembling. “There’s just one thing I need to feel... whole.”

“Anything, my love. Just tell me.” He looks down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Take me to the edge of the town. I want to see where it all ends. I want to understand this world you’ve made for me.”

His expression falters. “The edge isn’t important. Everything you need is right here.”

You sit up, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes pleading. “Please, Jaemin. I want to see it with you. I want to understand your love fully. Don’t you want me to?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching yours. Finally, he nods reluctantly. “If that’s what you want.”

—

He drives you to the edge of town in silence, his grip on the steering wheel tight. The road grows darker the further you go, the world outside the car fading into an inky void.

When he stops, the road ahead simply... ends. Beyond it is nothingness, a swirling expanse of black that seems to pulse and writhe.

“This is as far as it goes. There’s nothing out there. Nothing but chaos.”

You step out of the car, your heart racing. “It’s beautiful.”

Jaemin watches you carefully as you approach the edge.

You turn back to him. “Thank you for showing me this. I... I trust you.”

For a moment, his face softens, and you see his vulnerability once again beneath the perfection. “You mean everything to me. You always have.”

As his attention wavers, you make your move. You sprint toward the edge, your bag clutched tightly in your hands.

Jaemin notices and panics. “Y/N! Stop!”

He now stands in front of you, his usually perfect expression unhinged, desperation seeping through every word. “You can’t leave. You don’t understand what’s out there. It’s chaos. Pain. No one will love you like I do. No one will protect you like I have.”

“This isn’t love, Jaemin. This is a prison. You don’t love me—you love the idea of me, the version you can control. But I’m not yours to keep.”

He steps closer, his once-gentle eyes are now sharp, glinting with anger and fear. “If you leave, you’ll regret it. Out there, you’ll be nothing. A speck. Here, you’re everything. My everything.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as the house begins to shudder. The cracks spread faster now, the walls peeling to reveal nothingness beyond. This world is breaking apart, and so is he. “I’d rather be nothing than lose myself to you.”

Jaemin’s expression softens for a brief moment—hurt flashing across his face. He reaches for you, his hand trembling as if he’s trying to hold on to what’s slipping away.

“Please… don’t go. You’ll die out there. This place… it’s all I have.”

But you’ve already made your choice. You step back, closer to the edge of the crumbling reality. The air feels thin, the edges of the world curling in on themselves like burning paper. Behind Jaemin, you see the town collapsing—the people disintegrating into ash, their empty smiles vanishing with them.

With one last look at him, you whisper, “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

And then you leap into the void.

Life had been okay after you escaped. Moving again would’ve been the best option in this case. 

The train slows to a halt, the perfect little town laid out in front of your eyes.

You step onto the platform, the scent of flowers filling the air. The town looks clean, almost like it was plucked straight from a storybook or a carefully curated dream. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, reassuring yourself that this was exactly what you wanted. A fresh start. A clean break from everything you left behind.

You set your bag down and begin unpacking, each item you pull out grounding you a little more in this place. A simpler life. A quieter life. That’s what you need, far from the chaos of before.

The next morning, you step into your new job at the café. It’s a quaint little shop with pastel walls and rows of pastries so perfect they could be in a magazine. The scent of coffee and freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug.

The owner greets you with a wide smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her voice is both kind and commanding. “Welcome, dear,” she says. “I can tell you’re nervous, but you’ll fit in just fine. Everyone does.”

As you settle into the rhythm of the café, you notice how everything is perfectly simple. You glance out the window, and for a split second, you think you see a figure standing at the edge of the square.

Your breath catches, but when you blink, the figure is gone. You shake your head and return to wiping down the counter.

It’s nothing, you tell yourself. Just nerves. After all, this is the fresh start you wanted.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip

apologies for the trauma. you are all entitled to no financial compensation. hope you enjoyed your stay!

[like-supercute]

🎴… ( text reaction ) rent ? what rent ? ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 엔시티드림 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ telling the boys you can’t help pay rent ヾ

boyfriend!엔시티드림・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ suggestive tones in haechans ‎ wc ・ ‎n:a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 one of my favorite tiktok challenges …

©LUVYENI

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slut me out | njm x fem!reader

i.e you needed to give your situationship the time of his life after seeing his instagram story.

word count: 2.8k (not proof read)

content warning: situationship, open ending, smut lol, oral (m. rec.), fingering (f. rec.), explicit sex, unprotected sex(no!), creampie, lmk if i missed anything thanks!

author's note: two fics in one day! can we believe this LOL. would you guys be surprised if i said that i have a mark one that i'm hoping to finish and it'll be queued up for tomorrow morning/afternoon. i hope you all enjoy this fic and as always, dedicated to my crazy and delusional bffs. likes & reblogs are appreciated as always. requests are open till october 5th! i'm still working on my jay fic, and hoping to have that out by tuesday!!

“you’re fucking crazy,” you said once the phone picked up after the first ring, “you can delete that story, i saw it.”

jaemin let out a hearty laugh, “hmm? but jisungie looks so cute, what if one of my followers wants me to put them on with him?”

you jeer, fingering hovering over the red button on the screen, “you definitely could’ve posted him without making sure your shirt is unbuttoned and they can see the chain that i bought you peeking through. what if they’re crazy like me?”

“don’t worry, nobody has you beat in that department.” jaemin added quickly, “you can come over if you want.”

did you want to? absolutely. you needed to rock his world so hard that it was likely to be rated a category 9.5 earthquake.

“you can come to me,” you quipped back, “and hurry up, i dont have a lot of patience. don’t change either.”

“you’re so demanding,” jaemin whined, a glint of playfulness evident in his voice, “i have to stop at my other hoe’s house first, but i’ll be there.”

“not even funny.” you hung up the phone, rolling your eyes.

focusing back on your room, you jumped up in a panic. you needed to change and also pick up the clothes you had thrown all over the place.

realistically, you didn’t know if jaemin was kidding about seeing somebody else first, but if he wasn’t, you had about twenty minutes including traffic before he got to your place.

you shoved all the loose piece of clothing into whatever drawer or laundry basket they would fit into. doing a once over your room, you were satisfied with what you were able to do.

looking at your floor length mirror, you didn’t care too much about what you had on. a big t-shirt with snoopy playing baseball on the front.

easy access for jaemin, but you should probably change your dingy halloween panties from victoria secret into something cute.

perhaps pink? that seemed on brand for tonight’s theme.

you were digging through your underwear drawer looking for that lacey pink thong you got from the mall a few weeks ago when you heard a knock on your door.

“fuck,” you said, slamming the drawer shut to no avail and rubbing your hands down your hair to smooth out any frizz, “fuck.”

the knocking got louder, causing you to practically trip on air as you ran to grab the door.

“took your sweet time letting me in,” jaemin pouted. leaning against the doorframe when you opened it, “that mad at me?”

rolling your eyes, you pulled him in by his silky pajama shirt and closing the door behind him, “guess she wasn’t that good if you got here within the same hour of calling.”

jaemin smiled, dropping down onto your couch and sliding his shoes off, “i’d say she was pretty damn good if i got done quickly and i’m not here.”

you crossed your arms, scoffing at his comment and began to walk to your bedroom.

“you’re such a dick.”

“i heard that,” he said, jumping off the couch to chase behind you, “i'm just kidding y/n, you know it's just you."

"are you sure? cause you keep making comments about other girls, are you trynna compensate? i don't care if you see other people."

jaemin laughed at you for the nth time this evening, making you want to just slam your bedroom door in his face and lock him out, but unfortunately for you, seeing jaemin in those pink pajamas and gold chain sent you into borderline ovulation.

you grabbed jaemin by the arm, leading him to sit on your bed and standing between his legs.

"it's just you," jaemin reassured, a hand coming up to rub your hip gently, "just like driving you crazy 'cause i know you're really fucking insane."

jaemin got a whiff of your secret cloud perfume as you leaned down and kissed his neck gently.

"i'm going to turn you every way but loose tonight," you whispered into his ear, teeth grazing the shell of his ear, "and i'm gonna show you how insane i am over you."

a shiver went down jaemin's back as you kissed down his neck and to his adam's apple, making sure to suck dark marks into his skin before placing your lips on his.

his arms wrapped your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he deepened the kiss. your hands found their way entangled into his brunette locks, moaning as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

the two of you fought for dominance over the kiss, though jaemin just wanted to put up a good fight before letting you win.

you then slipped your tongue into his mouth, removing your hands from his hair and moving them down to his shoulders.

you gently pushed him back and onto the mattress, letting your fingers skillfully undo his pajama shirt, enjoying the smooth silk under your fingertips before pulling the shirt open.

jaemin pressed his hips up, hoping to get a small bit of friction on his growing erection and moaning when you rut your own hips down.

pulling away from the kiss, your chest heaved as you did a lookover his body. his plush lips swollen and glossy with spit, dark splots decorating his skin from earlier, his own defined chest moving rapidly as he tried to catch his own breath.

"you look so pretty under me, jaem," you complimented, your fingers dancing across his exposed collarbones and down his gold chain, "a sight only i should be allowed to see."

jaemin exhaled heavily through his nose, "a sight only for you. . please, don't stop. i want you. . i need you so badly, y/n."

how could you deny such a request from a pretty boy completely at your disposal? you weren't a cruel or dumb woman, so of course you'll comply.

you leaned down to attach your lips to his collarbone, biting and sucking gently as you made your way down his chest.

moving the pink fabric away, you let your tongue teasingly flick at his nipple to elicit a whiny moan from his mouth before taking his nipple between your lips.

"fuck y/n," he groaned, "that feels so good."

smirking to yourself, you pull off and stand up. the boy's eyes widened, trying to hold back another whine because why did you pull off? and why are you standing?

"c'mon," jaemin said, voice cracking slightly, "don't be a tease."

"a tease?" you titled your head as he sat up on his elbows, "if you beg, i'll consider."

a bright red hue cascaded over jaemin's face at your request, but he couldn't get any more pathetic than he already looked.

"y/n," he pleaded, "please do something. i am so undeniably hard, and if i don't feel those pretty lips or pretty hands wrapped around my dick that i know you love, i will implode and you'll be out of a bomb dick appointment and home."

a laugh escaped, jaemin really knew what to say to make you give into him. it's why you liked him honestly. he was funny and charming, and did in fact have a great dick that drove you insane. you used to be normal before he stuck his dick in you.

jaemin reached forward, grabbing your hand and placing it over his boner. that action alone could've made you cum in your panties because pathetic jaemin was probably your favorite jaemin.

you instinctively wrapped your fingers around it the best you could while it was restrained in those silky pants, slowly jerking him off and watching a bead of precum stain the fabric.

"see how hard i am?" he asked, breathily, "all for you. all because of you."

stroking your ego was one of the many things jaemin was good at, so you decided to play nicely and give him something to relief this tension you could feel growing in his body.

"take 'em off," you said, releasing his cock from your grip, moving back to give him room, "show me that pretty dick, jaem."

if you weren't standing in front of him, you were sure he would've fell face forward onto your carpet from how fast he was trying to get his pants down and off his hips.

once they were at his thighs, you leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before sinking down to your knees.

you were face to face with jaemin's cock, the tip an angry shade of red and precum still leaking from his slit.

spit began to pool inside your mouth the longer you looked at it, and you stuck your tongue out to swipe the precum dribbling from his cock.

jaemin moaned out, hands gripping the sheets beneath him, “stop. . put it in your mouth.”

you furrowed your eyebrows and looked up, “don’t make demands.”

the brunette’s jaw ticked, one hand coming up to your hair and the other grabbing the base of his dick.

he pushed your head back roughly, tapping the head of his cock on your lips and smearing more precum across, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

your eyes widened in surprise at the switch in jaemin's demeanor, but instead of giving him a hard time, you complied by opening your mouth for him.

without hesitation, jaemin shoved his cock into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat which caused you to gag and tears well up in your eyes.

"don't get sensitive now," he mumbled, swiping the tears from your face, "now be good and suck. show me why you're my favorite."

his favorite? you should been his fuckin' only like he said you were earlier. what is up with the inconsistency? he's gonna piss you off.

you used your tongue to lick the under part of his cock, pulling off to leave just the tip in your mouth.

jaemin's grip on your hair tightened, trying his best to let you have control, but wanting nothing more than to just fuck your throat until you're sobbing.

you pulled completely off his cock, bringing your hand to jerk him off while you used your tongue to lick a stripe on his balls and gently suck.

the brunette's eyes rolled back, a string of moans and high pitched whines leaving his throat as you continued to toy with his balls.

whenever your hand reached the tip, you would squeeze every so slightly, causing him to fuck into your hand.

jaemin was close, and you could tell by the way he was whimpering and trying to chase your hand.

you looked up at him, smiling to yourself before pulling off his dick completely, basking in his borderline sob at the loss of contact.

"why did you stop?" tears welled up in his eyes, feeling like he would explode, "you're so fuckin' mean."

cooing, you wiped tears away from his eyes like he did earlier, "cause i knew you were close, jaem."

he sniffled, grabbing you and pinning you down onto the bed in one swift motion.

sometimes, you forget how strong he can be, causing you to get even more wet if that was possible. your panties were sticking almost uncomfortably to your cunt, and you were hoping he would do something to relief that soon.

too lost in your own thoughts of pleasure, you didn't even realize jaemin was pulling your t-shirt up until the cool air hit your nipples.

he used his lithe digits to roll your perked nipples around, causing you to squeal at the contact.

"love the panties," jaemin teased, using one of his hands to snap the waistband against your skin, "so cute and so soaked. god, you really get off from anything as long as it's me, huh?"

"you fuckin' wish," you tried to bite, but it came out as a whimper when he pressed his hand against your core, allowing for some friction of pleasure.

"shhh," he said, "can't even muster an ounce of niceness when i'm about to fuck you?"

jaemin flicked your nipples, smirking at your almost pained moan before moving down to take your underwear off, eyes watching how they were sticking to your sopping cunt, "so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded your head in compliance this time, "all for you."

he swiped a finger up your slit, bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean, "taste so sweet, but act so so mean towards nana, wonder why that is?"

you huffed, hooking a heel behind his thigh and pulling him close so his cock would make some contact with your cunt, a noise escaping your throat when the tip came into rough contact with your clit.

"that needy? what was it you said earlier? beg. beg for it, dumb whore."

degrading was something you and jaemin never tried, but with how effortlessly it slipped out of his mouth, you wish he would've done it sooner.

"jaem," you grinded against his cock, "please fuck me, y'know you want to. please, i need it so badly."

jaemin just looked at you unimpressed, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, looking at how you falter when his tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves, "beg more."

you wanted to burst into tears, he knows how much you want him, he can feel how wet you are and probably at more slickness slipping out as he teased you, "nana, please put it in. i'll stop being mean, promise. i need your cock--i need you. please fuck me."

his left hand came up to smooth your hair out, smiling all his pearls at you as he slowly pushed the fat tip of his cock into you, finally.

jaemin slowly pushed himself into your cunt, moaning at how easily you took his cock, letting his hand fall from your hair and place pressure on your clit.

"it's like you were made for me, fuck" he gritted his teeth, thrusting shallowly into you, "taking me so well every time, your cunt just fuckin' sucks me in.. ha."

all you could do was moan in response, eyes rolling back when jaemin's gold chain smacked you in the nose, "fuck, too good."

jaemin rubbed your clit roughly as he picked his pace up, hips snapping against yours as your arousal ran down your thighs and his balls, creating a wet sound between the two of you.

you clenched around jaemin's cock, letting out high pitched noises of pleasure as he fucked you harshly, the knot in your stomach tightening and traveling down your pelvis.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" you cried, placing your hand on his lower abdomen and trying to push him away, but he quickly snatched it and held it above your head, "jaem, fuck, please, it's too much."

jaemin ignored your pleas, "y'know you can take it, stop trying to run from it."

when jaemin snapped his hips harshly once more, you felt that knot in your stomach break and ecstasy overtake your senses.

you couldn't even muster the feeling of embarassment from how good you felt when liquid practically sprayed your thighs and jaemin's abdomen.

the boy tapped the head of his cock on your clit, groaning loudly as you continued to squirt before roughly showing himself back into you.

"jaemin," you squealed, back arching up, "i can't! i can't."

"you can," he said, fucking you harshly, feeling himself getting closer and closer, "and you will take this dick. you wanna whine about other people havin' it so bad, take it, slut."

with jaemin fucking you so soon after an intense orgasm, all you could do was sob and mumble his name. it wasn't going to take you long to cum again, and jaemin could tell about how you were clenching on his dick.

your fingers dug into his shoulders, creating red crescents as his chain smacked you over and over again, his orgasm approaching any second.

"i'm so close, angel." he whined, his thrusts starting to stutter and slow down, "fuck, can i come inside please?"

"o-of course," you nodded your head, your own orgasm approaching once more, "please cum in me."

one more snap of jaemin's hips and he let out a loud moan, stilling himself as white hot ropes of his cum began to fill you and create a creamy ring around his cock, "fuck, you were too good."

he began to thrust slowly to ride out your orgasms, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

once you pushed his chest away to let him know he was overstimulating you, he pulled out completely and laid next to you, chest heaving rapidly.

"y/n." he turned on his side, "i really do like you."

you smiled, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers, "i really like you too jaemin."

he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and pulled you closer to him, "it's always been just you."

end!

[like-supercute]

🌸 … ( text reaction ) hitting THAT spot ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 엔시티드림 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ hitting that spot while fucking you ヾ

boyfriend!엔시티드림・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ wc ・ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can you do the hitting that spot - enhypen but for nct dream pllllllllssssssssss 🙏

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 here you go !

﹙ 𐙚 : mark ﹚ .ᐟ

mark knows what he’s doing, he’s not super experienced but he knows enough to please you , and he knows how to make you cum. your legs folded up against your chest , you his cock kissing your sweet spot over and over. your eyes crossing as he pounded into you. “fuck you got tighter , did i hit that spot?” he cursed. “look at you going all dumb on my cock.” he teased. “m-mark.” he kissed your lips shutting you up. “it’s okay baby i understand.” he whispered , hitting your gspot again.

“just let me handle it , treat this pussy like i always do.”

﹙ 𐙚 : renjun ﹚ .ᐟ

his fingers aren’t that long , but he can always find that spot inside you. “you always make fun of my short fingers.” he said curling his fingers up against your gspot. “but look at you , creaming all over my fingers like a slut.” you moaned. “junie.” you moaned out loudly as he grazed your spot once again. “im gonna cum.” your legs trembling. “should I let you cum?” he asked. “ye-yes please.” you begged. “please let me cum.” his fingers curling once again making you mewl out loudly. “go a head.”

“cream my fingers.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jeno ﹚ .ᐟ

feeling your fingernails dig into his skin as the top of his cock grazes that spongy spot inside you, he knows he’s hit it. “fuck i can feel you tightening around me baby.” he groans. “did you like that?” you nodded. “pl-please keep going , please fuck!” which he does keep going , speeding up his movements, feeling the way your body reacted to his thrusts were exhilarating , he wanted to see you cum. “you gonna cum?” he grunted. “cum for me.”

“if i keep hitting that spot i want you to make a big mess for me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : haechan ﹚ .ᐟ

wants to make fun of you; but he can’t because the way you felt, the way you sucked him in after he hit that rough spot — he felt like he was going dumb as well. “oh wait -shit- do-don’t do that.” he hissed. “if you keep tightening like that im gonna cum.” he whines pathetically, you can’t tell tell if he’s fucking you dumb or if your fucking him dumb … it’s both by the way. “haechan please , keep going.” and he has no intentions on stopping. “like hell baby.”

“i want you to milk me for everything i have.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jaemin ﹚ .ᐟ

the moment he sees your eyes roll back; that’s when he knows, his lip’s curling up in a cheshire smile. “is that.” he moves his hips slowing, making sure you feel him all the way. “is that it?” he cooed softly, his tone definitely mocking you. “that’s the spot that has your brain going all fuzzy?” you can only moan out gibberish which makes him laugh as you clench around him. “that’s okay princess, you don’t have to speak right now.” he said, hitting it again.

“just let your pretty pussy do all the talking.”

﹙ 𐙚 : chenle ﹚ .ᐟ

his chest puffs up with pride when he sees your mouth drop open after he hits that spot. he knows he has you right under his thumb , which makes him purposely miss the spot after just to hear you whine. “being ungrateful after i’ve given you everything you wanted.” slapping your ass. “such a brat.” you’re pleading with him , just for him to kiss that sweet spot easily. “chenle !” your eyes roll to the back of your head , mouth dropping open. “is that you wanted all along.” he hummed.

“for me to fuck you dumb.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jisung ﹚ .ᐟ

he was confused; not only did you get louder; but you got wetter ( not that he’s complaining ). ”oh-oh fuck what just happened?” he groaned as you clenched around him for the fifth time, he didn’t even understand how much of an effect he was having on you. “jisung -sh-shit- keep doing that.” you moaned out , poor boy didn’t even know what he was doing , all he knew is that it was making you feel good and in exchange you were making him feel good — and that’s all the matters.

“if you keep clenching like that im gonna cum.”

©️LUVYENI

[like-supercute]

room(hate) | L.JN (M) — part I

SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

PART I (you are here) | PART II

[AO3 link for easier reading! Though please do consider leaving your thoughts on here if you’d like! I’d appreciate it sm 🥹💖]

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.

WORD COUNT: 18.3K (out of 40K maybe)

CONTENT WARNINGS: afab!reader, a reader-insert but no ‘Y/N’ is used, MC's a little mean (blame it on the sleep deprivation), Mark has an unnamed girlfriend, Jeno's kind of an asshole (not on purpose) at first, mild slut-shaming, banter as forms of flirting/foreplay [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

SMUT WARNINGS: Jeno has a big dick. fingering, squirting, doggy, unprotected sex (please practice safe-sex unlike these two), back-shots, aftercare.

NOTE: save me beatbox Jeno... s̸a̷v̷e̵ ̶̟̀m̸̞̐̇ë̴̠̟̤̆... everything is consensual btw! MC just looooves to deny and deny and deny because not only does Jeno put the 'D' in dick, he also puts the 'D' in denial <3 if i sound a little too in love it’s bc i am i love that man and i need him so bad 🧍🏻‍♀️

"You like your peace, but you love a little chaos." — Maze by Alina Baraz

"I want you to love like you hate me and fuck me so crazy, crazy." — Lava Lamp by Lolo Zouaï

I.

“When you first get a taste and your heart starts to race.”

Mark thought it would be best to part ways after living together for four years.

He was leaving you. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Mark corrected. “I’m moving in with my girlfriend.”

“That does not make it any better!”

Mark Lee was leaving you.

Not as a side-piece. Not as his ‘actual’ girlfriend (gross!), but leaving you to fend for yourself as his best friend. Which, fine, perhaps you could have started with that and excluded your dramaticism, but no one could really blame the immediate distress when you were about to lose Golden Boy Mark Lee—golden in many ways such as being the perfect roommate (minus his awful cooking. He was a great haggling partner for cheap deals, though)—to domesticity.

The thought of throwing all that away in exchange for less would send anyone into a downward spiral, if you could consider your crazed search for the next best thing as that; treating it as if you had to gamble a huge chunk of your life for the sake of retaining that same level of comfort and ease you got from Mark.

The only catch was, you had no fucking idea what it meant to gamble. Neither in the literal, nor in the figurative sense.

Which should have been telling considering that you had never, not even once, thought of exchanging a portion of your paycheck for chips you knew you’d immediately lose the second the lack of knowledge and experience showed on your losing set of cards. The closest comparable scenario you could think of was accompanying your grandmother to Mahjong Sundays with her friends, but even then, keeping up with the rules was rather difficult for a kid who only knew toys and the air time of her favorite cartoon.

Granny’s friends and Granny herself hadn’t bothered with explaining it to you either, being far too invested with their acrylic tiles. What you did learn, though, was how agitating the sounds were when they hit together. It just about evoked such a raw feeling of irritation a seven year old could go through. The messy aftermath of snot and tears did it for Granny that she made sure to ask if you’d let her drag you along.

In short: no gambling experience, yet going in full-on with that mindset equated a recipe for a shitty disaster just waiting to implode on itself.

Still, you liked to think that you had played your cards right during the whole selection process. 

Details of each possible candidate were carefully written down—color-coded, bullet points, foot-notes. Some probable pet peeves highlighted to be raised for another round of deliberation—thanks to the extensive background checks you had done on your own accord, then later checked by Mark pushed by your unrelenting insistence. A second opinion would help narrow down your choices and who better to fill that role other than your own roommate?

Well, ex-roommate since—again—Mark had succumbed to the clutches of domestic bliss.

And it’s not like it couldn’t be seen from miles away. Everyone and their mothers knew Mark’s intentions right when he had brought home a shih tzu—a dog he and his girlfriend decided to co-parent despite living separately—to look after while Mark’s other half went away for a work trip. Really, anyone could tell that he was itching to start anew under the same roof with his girlfriend, but you didn't expect it to be that day to be so soon.

Who was going to play as your budget therapist now?

If there was anyone out there who knew how exhausting being in healthcare was, it was Mark. He understood the grievances that came with being a nurse and he was always there to lend an ear until you felt less burdened by the frustrations you had carried throughout a demanding shift. It was like an inborn skill he had, finding it in himself to simply know what to say and how to bring you back down.

No one could ever replace Mark. Your co-worker. Ex-roommate. Your best friend and now that he was off to start a new chapter in his life, in love as he could ever be, this called for new coping mechanisms, and a new roommate because there was no way in hell you were going to pay in full when you had other expenses already making a sizeable dent in your next paycheck. Making it bigger was not an option you would risk.

That was another reason why you insisted on the in-depth research amounting to almost a month’s worth of what was essentially the text-book definition of stalking.

From: marklee@gmail.com Subject the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol.doc

Don’t you think you’re being a little too nit-picky with all this? When did being a Leo become a deal breaker for you haha. Like people can’t change their birthdays and do I need to remind you that I’m a Leo? We’ve managed to not kill each other over the years. There’s also Jaemin? Dejun? Who are also Leos? Who are also our close friends? What is your problem with Leos? I thought Geminis were the worst?

To: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol_FINAL.doc

yes, and?? THREE Leos are enough i don’t need more! in my defense i made the worst mistake of becoming emotionally attached to you guys except Jaemin (and Hyuck by association) forced friendship onto me if u remember. he’s like a stray cat that wont leave me alone.

From: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games

This is literally just a blank document?

To: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games

Which means your selection was ASS!!!!!! i dont like ANY of them. One has a criminal record of insurance fraud and the other is weird as FUCK dude like who cradles and pets their fucking goldfish like its a cat?how bout this, do u personally know anyone in need of a place? LIKE someone at least 70% normal

Radio silence. Almost five hours of it and sitting in front of your laptop refreshing the shit out of your inbox as if that would do anything seemed like the worst possible choice of action when aiming for a productive afternoon.

By the time you heard from Mark again, golden light illuminated the living area that you had to squint, picking up your phone to read his text messages.

Mark (ER): I found someone Mark (ER): remember Jeno Lee?

You: no lol

Mark (ER): lol Mark (ER): tall, muscular and kind of a hermit?

You: ur not really giving me much to work with You: for all i know jaem legally changed his name to jeno for some reason

Mark (ER): he’s nicer than Jaemin

You: 😟 You: one of hyuck and jaem’s friends i assume?

Mark (ER): correct Mark (ER): he’s looking for a place Mark (ER): and he’s likely the 70% normal to your 30% normal 😁

You: wait what’s my 70% then?

Mark (ER): insane

You: die

“His lease is ending soon too.” Mark brought up a few days later in the middle helping him pack up for the great move, and it was nice out too. Not too cold, not too hot—really, just a nice day out with the perfect temperature accompanied by an occasional breeze, and yet Mark chose this day to pack up his life, enlisting your help when you could be doing something else that didn’t remind you of the impending loneliness that was about to come.

Even the outside wasn’t safe from the beginnings of grief.

The outside, a picturesque view of the city’s greens gradually bleeding into the many shades of fall framed by the large window, became the very subject of your mournful eyes.

Brooding became your default state, whereas Mark carried on plucking his vinyl records, a small collection of novelty trinkets from your joint travels and the handful of thick textbooks from nursing school he refused to throw out. I might need them at some point, y’know. He once told you after catching your eyebrows raised in question. Just because we graduated doesn’t mean we magically know everything and Mark was mostly right about these things.

You were going to miss Mark being mostly right about these things. Whether it would be over something trivial, or medical related, he just was. Always a step ahead of you in many cases.

Summer was at its peak when Mark had sat you down to tell you of his plans, the sun harsh with its light and adding on to the steady increase in temperature. He decided to push through once the summer heat dissipated completely in anticipation of a chilly fall, and just like how the seasons came and went, watching Mark stow away bits and pieces of himself into the boxes was an inevitable change you had to accept. 

The loud scratch of the packaging tape made him wince as you sealed the box. “Who?”

“Jeno,” He repeated, reminding you of Donghyuck and Jaemin’s elusive, so-and-so friend as he took the tape from you with a pointed stare. “y’know, your new roomie?”

“I haven’t even said yes.”

“Trust me, you will.” Mark looked very sure of his claim, too. “Anyways—” he waved towards the air “—said something about his lease ending in a few weeks or so? He wanted somewhere close to work and our complex is like, real close to his office. A win on both sides?”

At least it wasn’t just you benefiting from the change.

“Right. How the hell am I gonna get to work without your car now?”

“That’s all you can say?”

“Hm, no,” you said, turning to face Mark with a straight face. “Do you think I could bribe Jeno into driving me to work?”

Mark huffed, “you’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” you cried, doing an awful job of keeping the waterworks from overflowing with frustrated swipes to your face. “This is so stupid—I’m stupid—God, you only live like thirty minutes away.”

Mark, ever the one to find his friends endearing even in the most undignified of conditions, let out a fond coo while gathering you up in his arms in a tight squeeze. “I’m gonna miss your morning arguments with the coffee machine too.”

The dig was met with a thwack on the arm.

Wherever Mark went, you followed. Only because he was literally your ride to and from work and how convenient it was that you both worked at the same private hospital. He was the type to simply offer a ride when you obviously needed it. For years, it had been like that.

Now, Mark stayed behind. Where he belonged, leaving him in the care of his girlfriend practically absorbing his oozing joy as they both coddled her—their dog, Ziggy, just outside of their apartment complex. The couple were completely lost in one another, inadvertently forgetting the piles of boxes in Mark’s car that had to be brought up sooner or later. They had all the time in the world anyway and it was understandable that Mark would want to simply bask in the moment with the one person that made every waking day worth it. 

And leaving them behind to catch the next bus was a bittersweet pinch to your heart.

Mark was off to unfold the next chapter of his life, and here you were still, stuck in an endless cycle, wondering if you’d ever get to start on a new chapter of yours, too.

Jeno Lee hadn't exactly matched whom you pictured in your head.

When there was Jaemin and Donghyuck, it was kind of an unspoken rule that your one-way ticket to the nearest psychiatric ward was to be willingly associated with the likes of them. 

Years of dealing with their joint efforts of embodying the human version of a headache, you kind of knew how to deal with whatever Jeno could potentially have in store for you. Jaemin and Donghyuck got along like a house on fire when the weather was fair, or when the planets aligned by some convoluted space related jargon Jisung would happily indulge any of you with. On any other day, they simply could not stand each other, wanting nothing to do with the other and arguing for the sake of arguing.

Still, they were the best of friends and having their differences was simply unavoidable, yet the many similarities they shared became a sturdy foundation for their friendship to last a long time.

Being unapologetically insane was one of them.

One’s involvement automatically entailed that they were just as deranged to some degree, and seeing the elusive piece to the trio you weren’t even aware was a trio, Jeno Lee—in the flesh—with a smile so sweet and unassuming gave you an earth-shattering wake-up call and reminder that you probably shouldn’t solely rely on baseless assumptions, especially when it came to people. Insane friends aside.

Other than that, you didn’t think a man with a face and body carefully sculpted by marble and brought to life by the gods themselves would be up to some milder version of fuckery like they were, now that Jeno thought to introduce himself.

The apartment felt staggeringly bigger than what you were used to with the absence of what made it belong to Mark too, though Jeno did a swell enough job to fill in the empty spaces with his presence alone.

It was brief. The meeting with the potential roommate, but nothing short of nerve-wracking when the man had the vibe of a quintessential supermodel top modeling agencies would fight tooth and nail for, decked in athleisure that had shown how he was built to all hell. A hundred-eighty-something centimeters of lean muscle cut with precision; clearly the fruit of Jeno’s possibly strict lifestyle, quietly taking everything in with a sense of wonder, yet simultaneously staying attentive as you ran your mouth about the apartment’s features and how sharing possible expenses would work.

You know, the vital stuff you’d want to know when it involved sharing your space with another person.

Which raised a few questions from Jeno himself. Little things along the lines of how often trash would be collected? If the apartment complex had a laundry room and if not, was there a laundromat by at least walking distance? How about a convenience store? A gym closer than his current one? These were answered fairly quickly, from which Jeno seemed pleased when his eyes turned into little half moons when he smiled, bringing your attention to the beauty mark under his right eye. God, was it adorable and frankly, you still couldn’t believe he chose to associate with two of the most annoying people you knew.

It was cute. Jeno Lee was cute, but among everything he had going on—your wandering eyes greatly appreciated the free viewing—his voice was what stuck out to you the most with how gentle he had spoken.

A voice deep and rumbly, yet warmth coated each syllable rattling the beating palm-sized thing in your chest the more the carefully articulated sentences passed through Jeno’s naturally pouted lips. He talked like he was trying to get into your good graces; like talking in any other way would risk disrupting the pleasant ambience set in stone before Jeno’s visit, which wasn’t at all necessary when Mark practically sang his praises.

And Jeno was all Mark talked about post-moving out.

Seriously, if he hadn’t chosen the medical path like you had, Mark Lee would have made a mean sales rep. You even felt the need to stop him and ask if he was still talking about a human being and not a brand new car right after he had his fill of listing down exactly why you should take Jeno in. How he essentially met all your admittedly nit-picky roommate requirements. 

Mild-temperament. What was he, a dog? Jeno was neat and tidy. Claimed that he couldn't function if measly things such as a coaster was askew. Oh good. A neat freak just like me. There were also a few pages of referrals Mark had shown—yes, printed—from previous landlords and roommates because that was a thing, apparently. Squeaky clean criminal record (with a cute face like that, it didn’t come as a surprise). Worked in tech. In the same income bracket as you.

A Taurus man.

Which shouldn’t have given you that much of a start, really. You haven’t had much experience dealing with any Taurus people—a Taurus man, no less, so this would be decidedly new.

He is reliable, persistent, and down-to-earth, with a strong sense of duty and an admirable work ethic; the kind of guy you can always count on in both your personal and professional life. He is not one to make waves or cause drama; he just wants to do his job and go home at the end of the day. A Taurus man is all about practicality, stability, and security. 

He wants nothing more than to provide the protection of his loved ones and create a harmonious home life.

At least that was what the article wrote (ignoring the in-your-face romantic tone. You were looking for a roommate, not a husband), sent by an astrology-fixated Donghyuck who seemed a little too eager providing his insight when asked for his opinion on Jeno and Taurus people in general being acquainted with you.

“A little stability won’t hurt. It’ll be good for you,” Donghyuck had mentioned over the phone after grilling you and your astrological sign, antagonizing you for no reason. It went mostly ignored though, preoccupied with reading a case you were assisting with Dr. Kim tomorrow. “and nothing screams stability more than Jeno’s credit score.”

An excellent credit score, from what Mark had relayed over cheap Chinese takeout and never would you have thought you’d cream your pants from that information, yet here you were. Financial stability was a viable trait you’d consider looking for in someone, so the decision was a no-brainer.

“Oh, before I go.”

You swallowed something down like a scream when Jeno whirled around to face you while digging into his gym bag. 

“Mark probably gave you the rundown about me but—” a folded piece of paper was produced from within the depths of his bag, having you blinking owlishly when he wriggled it for you to take.

Jeno’s palm was warm under the gentle brush of your fingers as you plucked it from his own set, pointedly ignoring the zing that jolted through you.

Arial. Font size twelve. Single spaced and justified, and it wrote what Mark had been yapping about all this time prior to having Jeno in the apartment. His MBTI, a rundown of his personality with all his quirks and habits included (you snorted rather loudly when catching the italicized ‘mild-temperament’). There was his daily routine that heavily emphasized his recreation time such as cycling, working out, gaming and a small pool of sports. His likes and dislikes, and making you laugh the loudest was his disclaimer, something Jeno was rather proud of when you caught his pleased smile.

Disclaimer: Homebody, but will go out with you if you ask nicely. I get lost in gaming a lot so you might have to knock very loudly, or even call my phone. I get sulky very easily. Please be nice to me (.◜◡◝)

The emoticon was just the cherry on top. It looked so much like him—an absolutely precious detail that you had to do a side-by-side comparison, only to find him already gazing at you in wonder.

He cleared his throat, smiling and cheeks glowing with the faintest of color. “I figured you’d want a detailed resumé. He said you’d appreciate it.” Jeno joked with the smile widening into a soft grin that showcased his perfect white teeth, long fingers raking through his dark blue hair, both in a manner that screamed boyish and charming.

He was charming, which came as a belated, mortifying realization. Nano seconds was all it took to picture life sharing everything with a cute-faced gym rat and his equally cute grin you’d have to face every single waking day for fuck knows how long until you went insane.

It could either be the best or the worst thing to come out of this. You’re not sure yet.

Though it’s as if Jeno sensed your mental turmoil because he didn’t even give you a second to rethink, leaning in close enough that you got a whiff of his cologne as he poked a particular spot on the paper a few times, grin dimming into something gentler where his eyes gained this puppy-ish quality to them followed by a head tilt.

“My number is on here,” he stressed with one last poke to his number, ducking his head low enough to catch your gaze. “Call or text me if I make the cut, yeah?”

And as the door shut behind Jeno after flashing you one last dazzling smile, you slumped against the wall with a harsh sigh, mind racing and heart about to fly out of your rib cage with the paper still clutched tightly in between your fingers.

Jesus.

You: I think I just saw a god

Mark (ER): lol? 😆 Mark (ER): how was it with Jeno

You: i literally just said i think i saw a god

Approximately three hours later, you’ve earned yourself a Mark replacement, much to the namesake’s chagrin and stealing a piece of your chicken tenders as a form of retribution.

Approximately a week and half later, Jeno hung his degree and graduation portrait next to yours right above the TV, a detail both of you found hilarious and continued to giggle over even after clearing two greasy boxes of pizza for your first dinner together as roommates. 

Approximately two months or so later, Jeno had unknowingly made an enemy for himself:

You.

II.

“When you go out your way and you don’t see a change.” 

Frankly, being in this sticky situation could have been avoided entirely if you hadn’t let Mark’s flattery towards your roommate lure you into a false sense of security.

Frequent reassurance was an absolute necessity.

It was good to just know about things and your ex-roommate had made Jeno sound promising the handful of times your conversation would segue to him. It was your own hubris in Mark’s reassurance that had led you to this—that, and Mark had perfected the art of persuasion with words.

He’d always been good at spinning the narrative for his own advantage (Jeno’s in this case). Too good, in fact, where everything that flew past his mouth left no room for worry to fester when you’ve not yet lost anything of significance from trusting Mark and his judgment.

That was until you did. Blindsided by soft grins, half-moon eyes and a killer body you’d catch yourself quietly admiring whenever Jeno, oddly enough, took to working out in the living area.

So in conclusion, this was all Mark’s fault.

“This is all your fault.”

“Yo, what?” Mark laughed in that way where you just knew that he knew he fucked up. Forced, awkward, and a little terrified of what was about to come. “What’d I do?” He asked anyway, knowing he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without finding out just what he did to get accused.

“You shouldn’t have pimped Jeno out to me—“

Mark rolled his eyes. “Not what I did—“

“Pimped Jeno out to me, ‘else I wouldn’t be suffering this much.”

“Hold on—you asked me to help look for a roommate,” he started, voice pitching up in disbelief. “And I spent days helping you sort out every important detail—even the nit-picky ones—for you! Only to ask for someone who wasn’t even listed on the fuckin’ doc. And in the end, you said yes!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. Clearly a mistake on my part."

As he ranted, Mark’s gestures grew more and more frantic in defense of himself, only for his arms to fall back to his sides with a huff when you barely blinked, unimpressed, and then folding them above his chest with a pout before mumbling, “how’d you even find out about the criminal record and the weird fish owner anyway?”

You graced him with a lazy shrug. “Fascinating what you can achieve with technology.”

He stilled, squinting in thought before letting out a resigned sigh. “Donghyuck.”

“Duh? The closest I got to hacking was looking for a cracked Sims 2 copy.” You soon got grounded by Dad when you had infected the family computer with malware, sadly. “Hyuck’s surprisingly useful when wants to be.”

Or greedy. Ten dollars were raised once you goaded Donghyuck into sussing out any deal-breakers with a snide comment or two slipping out about him not being able to find anything that would make you second guess any of the potential roommates. Naturally, Donghyuck took your provocation rather seriously, treating it as the be-all and end-all to prove a point.

Ten minutes later, he was ten dollars richer. Crazy what people would do for money.

“Conflict of interest!” you raised again, loudly, making Mark flinch. “I barely get six hours of sleep now because of your emotional ties with my sworn enemy.”

Sure there were many benefits of being approachable, but you were somewhat of a negative Nancy and all you could think of was how Mark’s painstaking kindness could potentially get taken advantage of by some lurking asshole out there.

Which was exactly what had happened. With you as collateral.

“Uh, not gonna lie, but I think you’re being a little dramatic,” he sniffed, biting roughly into the sandwich you graciously made for him. Biting the hands that fed him, how lovely.

“I’m being dramatic?” you said, incredulous, and then flicked his forehead just to hear him cry out in pain. “Okay—try having Jeno’s headboard slamming against the wall as your lullaby, which—surprise, surprise—won’t help you sleep at all!”

You paused to regulate your breathing because you were getting a little too heated and you didn’t want to traumatize Mark even more by angrily exploding into pieces. Even as a nurse and though rare, he still got a little squeamish.

“I’m just saying, you’d think he’d have some shame and invest in those rubber bumpers, but no—he just had to make sure I know he’s getting way more sex than me.”

And he did. Have way more sex than you, that is, which was kind of insane now that you’ve thought about it. Ego-bruising too when the sounds you desperately tried to drown out still breached through a pair of neon green earplugs stuck deep as they could go into your ear holes. His questionable refractory period kept you up on most nights he had girls over, wondering how short it was that he’s able to bounce back and keep you up until the witching hour with the awful remix of moans, groans, screams and whatever noises one could make during sex. Why was it always the innocent looking ones the freakiest? Why must you suffer through all this?

You made a low noise in your throat, almost like a growl just thinking about what you've gone through the last few weeks. Fucking asshole.

Mark’s eyes widened. Whether it was from your admission, or the almost inhuman sound you made, the simmering rage wasn’t that hard to miss. The moment Mark walked into the apartment, he could visibly tell how wound up you were from your pinched expression while you waited for the bread to toast.

He’s been here for almost two hours and you have yet to relax. Mark’s current concern was what if your face gets permanently stuck scowling like that?

“Huh,” he breathed out, “didn’t know Jeno got bitches that often.”

“Mark.”

Mark immediately backtracked at the edge to your voice. “Uh, I mean—“ he cleared his throat, “fuck Jeno. I hope his dick, like, falls off.”

The beseeching shine of his eyes for your approval would have been something to laugh at if it weren’t for the anger taking full reign of the receptors responsible for regulating your emotions, not letting it process anything but the bottled up frustration from weeks of enduring the extra noises accompanying most of your nights.

So much for creating a harmonious home life with a Taurus man. Fuck that article, fuck whoever wrote it, and fuck Jeno Lee in particular. Seriously.

“You’re more pissed off than usual.”

“Yeah? Hadn’t noticed,” you said dryly.

“Dude, c’mon. Y’know what I mean,” Mark giggled, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away with a whine when he tried to go for the other. “Sorry, sorry—just—I feel like he did more if you—“ he made a vague gesture to the air in front of you “—are this upset.”

“I think keeping me up with the horrendously loud fucking takes the cake.”

“I dunno. You lost your fuckin’ marbles when I ate your food that one time.” He shuddered, knowing fully well how touchy you were with the prepped meals you slaved for hours every Saturday. “Was that what he did? That’s the one thing I told him not to do.”

Being this far into your career, cooking was almost like a chore since you barely had any opportunities to cook actual at-home-meals that required significant amounts of time and patience. You could even say that it was more appropriate to call it a luxury almost as most of your time was dedicated to the hospital—to your patients whose lives were also in your hands, and pre-made food was the only solution to fit three-meals-a-day into your demanding schedule.

The long-lasting effects of when he, out of sheer desperation, snatched your jar of banana chia pudding still lingered when he always made it a point to ask if he could have one bite, or a quick sip after the rather traumatizing verbal lashing you’ve subjected him to.

“No. Jeno knows not to do that at least.”

Like Mark, it’s the one thing you had stressed right when you had Jeno settle in. Not that he minded, sans the obligatory head tilt when he didn’t quite get it until your further explanation. He even offered his help with the meal-prep which kind of—for a fleeting moment—made you feel a little guilty thinking back to the conversation (puppy eyes, full lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. More puppy eyes and Jeno’s weird, trademarked noises of confusion) until you were violently reminded of his fuckery.

Perhaps the whole golden retriever-like temperament and attentiveness balanced out his newly discovered predilection for whoring himself out.

Mark heaved a heavy sigh as if he was the one with a 24/7 sex noise problem. “Well, what could be worse than Jeno banging some random chick?”

You gave him a grim smile.

See, the thing was, it hadn’t always been like this.

You were no stranger to peace as you did get a generous taste of it with Jeno thrown into the mix. A peaceful coexistence between a surgical nurse and some tech guy.

A routine had been built around having different work hours where you were mostly gone from morning to evening when you weren’t on-call, while Jeno was, more often than not, stationary since he had the choice to either work from home on his elaborate PC set-up, or in the office he’d drive to when needed.

It was relatively normal. Jeno stayed true to the being neat claim and he kept to himself most of the time. He did his set of chores listed on the mini whiteboard stuck to the fridge and proved himself to be quite the efficient handyman also; assembling furniture with ease as well as fixing up superficial problems in the apartment. He was a decent cook too and Jeno generally acted what one would expect from a proper roommate who was here to make a home with you.

It had been normal. It had been peaceful, until you realized you were housing a potential sex fiend. What made this whole thing exponentially worse, though, was that the last girl he had brought home wasn't just some random chick that had fallen victim to Jeno’s charms.

It was Jimin Yu, your work best friend and the only other person who knew of your sleeping problem caused by the root of said problem whom you were starting to believe was sent to you as a divine punishment for fuck knows what. Which was kind of funny to think about considering Mark, his faith and him technically being the catalyst of it all, but you digressed. This was literally a slow-burn epidemic happening in real life, and yet no one else seemed to be alarmed by it.

Jimin Yu. Another promising young woman lost to some fucking loser (see: Jeno). Again. 

How you came to find out that it was your best friend getting her back blown out six ways to fucking Sunday right before a full day of two major operations waiting for you to scrub and assist in was from pure accidental intuition alone.

And anger. 

Especially anger.

There was a self-imposed rule you strictly followed: do not leave your room until you were sure the chosen girl from Jeno’s seemingly never-ending roster left. Saving both you and the poor girl from the embarrassment was the least you could do when you yourself would rather avoid any risks of running into anyone in someone else’s home right after a hook-up.

And, well, there was a reason why the saying ‘rules are meant to be broken’ was popularized, because you broke that one simple rule that had supposedly kept your remaining sanity intact.

Two hours left before your shift started and you were more husk than person from the lack of sleep. All rationale completely consumed by anger, an ever-present emotion that seemed to be the only thing that kept you going—and consequently, what had led you to shoot out of bed once the telltale sounds of Jeno’s door clicking open, followed by the hurried footsteps reached your ears.

You skidded to a stop, stunned.

“You motherfucker.”

This was the ultimate act of betrayal.

“It’s—It’s not what it looks like!” Was Jimin’s immediate defense right when the thunderous twist to your face grew more and more pronounced with each stomp of your feet. Yet her words didn’t exactly help her case when:

There were obvious splashes of reds, blues and purples marking her slender neck.

Her hair was a downright mess, and you knew Jimin harbored some sort of complex for her long luscious locks, so this was new—her not bothering to comb it out, clearly in a rush to leave.

There was a slight limp in her step which just said everything.

And lastly, you caught Jeno sneaking Jimin out of his room and out of the fucking apartment, clearly expecting to not run into you.

“Ah-ah. No,” you interrupted before she could even start groveling. “I’ll deal with you later. Get out.”

Jimin’s shoulders sagged, big wet eyes staring into your very soul and it took you a Herculean amount of strength to keep your gaze ahead and not break under her stare; to keep your gaze set on the main perpetrator who, unlike Jimin, appeared rather contrary to her apparent distress. 

Jeno stood underneath the awning in only—goodness—only a pair of gym shorts where you could clearly make out a hefty looking dick-print, completely at ease and infuriatingly handsome in spite of the disheveled state he was in; matching bruises bloomed on his milky skin, scratches littered his arms, shoulders and back and his hair was left as an artful mess atop his head. 

You wanted to scream.

This was all Jeno’s fault. Not even the hurt pinching Jimin’s normally serene features was enough to lessen the tension wounding up your entire body. Not when you were already neck-deep in your own pool of unfiltered rage to even consider comforting Jimin’s momentary lapse in judgment and decision to have earth-shatteringly loud sex with your mortal enemy that the whole damn apartment complex might as well have heard.

(“I’m surprised Jimin isn’t getting as much heat since she slept with your ‘problem’. On purpose.”

You shrugged. “Men are the root of all evil.”

“Fair enough,” Mark mumbled and took a gargantuan bite of the next sandwich assembled for him. It was really a mystery how he settled down before you).

And—look, you really couldn’t care less if Jeno slept around. It was his life and he had free reign over his own body, and let’s face it, there was no way he didn’t get an obscene amount of matches on Tinder when he embodied a walking wet dream.

Jeno was far from being in your good graces at this current moment, but staying blind to the truth would only get you so far when Jeno had the physical advantages to attest to that, and the same could be said for Jimin. She could hook-up with whoever she pleased—just as easily too. Hell, you’d sleep with her too if you were a little bit interested in her—because who were you to disprove her choices? All of you were adults here, but what the main issue here was Jimin knew you had one-sided beef with your abnormally attractive roommate that fucks too loud no matter how many times you reminded him to try and keep it down, and yet she still pushed on and contributed to the recurring problem.

Truer words had never been said until Mark. You really did hope Jeno’s dick shrivels up and falls off.

Now, preferably.

Right when the door had closed behind Jimin with a soft click (after dragging her feet and sending pleading looks over her shoulder like a sad wet cat) did all the pent-up anger come out in a mess of heated words and frantic gestures.

“What the fuck.”

Each breath you took had been deep and harsh. Your face was bordering on hot to the touch from the sheer amount of rage coursing through your veins and the arduous task of resisting the urge to reach out and subject permanent damage physically, mentally and emotionally by how tightly you had clenched your fists. You could already imagine it, hands stretching towards Jeno’s neck and wringing it like a wet hand towel until it ripped in your hands—

Your roommate reacted then, as if just realizing that this wasn’t you doing a bit. It made you think of how likely it could be that Jeno got away with many things simply for being the very few that had pretty privilege as a crutch to fall onto. As for you, it would be nice to have an actual metal crutch within arm’s reach to hit him with.

He was pretty to look at, sure, but not privileged enough to keep your eye from twitching in irritation when Jeno looked the least bothered by your display, long eyelashes fluttering with each of his confused and owlish blinking.

“What?” Jeno, the village idiot, asked with imploring eyes.

“What? What do you mean ‘what’? are you—“ you cut yourself off with an incredulous, borderline manic laugh at his testosterone-filled audacity. “Are you so desperate for sex that you had to go for Jimin?”

It’s not like he wasn’t allowed to bring his own friends over since you shared the same rotation of friends and acquaintances, but really, Jimin?

“I didn’t know Jimin was off-limits. You never mentioned it.” Jeno blinked slowly with a sheepish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time?”

“Are you fucking—were you even listening to me? Not just now, but before too. I told you to keep it down! Many many times! I need to sleep, Jeno!”

He huffed a laugh. “Technically, it’s not really my fault if they can’t keep it down, y’know?” 

You could only stare in disbelief, mouth ajar at the fact that he’s able to act proud during an argument he was likely to lose. Like dicking down someone so loud that it became a public disturbance was some kind of achievement with the way Jeno puffs out his very naked chest in the most subtlest of ways.

He wasn’t finished talking, taking your silence as a prompt to continue with a cloying curl of his mouth. “I could show you why, if you want.”

“Excuse me?”

If Jeno knew what was good for him, he would stop running his mouth right this very second. Though over time, you started to pick up on the very unfortunate fact that he lacked tact at times, and what he had let slip through his lips next proved as much.

“I’m saying,” he dragged out, like he was expecting you to catch on. “Sex reduces stress, right? The endorphin and oxytocin rush—I’ll assume you already knew that, being a nurse and all. Woman in STEM,” Jeno sang a little jingle, the smile widening into a grin that was a touch too suggestive for your liking. “I can see that you’re pent up, and I think fucking it out of you—fucking the uptightness out of you would do both of us good. A win-win situation.”

Whatever was left of the rose-tinted image of the man who had first walked into the apartment donning the sweetest eye-smile you had ever laid eyes on was wiped just like that. His grin that was meant to convey light-hearted teasing became the very image of mockery.

If you weren’t as furious then, you were now.

“Is that how you see me? Just another number to your body count?” 

It would have been funny, watching Jeno’s features twist from surprise to regret at the speed of light almost, but anything he did beyond this point just added to the stockpiled annoyance ready to be spit up again the next time Jeno thought to push his luck. So no, this wasn’t hilarious in the slightest.

“I didn’t say that—”

“You implied it.”

“That’s—I was joking!”

You scoffed, “that’s not surprising. Do you think my job’s a ‘joke’ too?”

This was exhausting. You had already lost a significant amount of sleep you needed to get through work that would start in two hours—well, less now that you’ve taken the time to completely go off the rails until some semblance of remorse showed on Jeno’s person. As satisfying as it was to witness that happen in real-time, asking some time off of work just to process The Confrontation™ was a no-no, given how important your presence was in the OR and it just so happened that you couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.

He should’ve added ‘insatiable horndog’ to his disclaimer.

Jeno made it clear that he had nothing else to follow up on, doing a horrible impression of a fish out of water that you had taken as your cue to leave.

And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to breathe in the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

Being this bothered by your cold indifference was not at all on Jeno’s bingo card.

Jeno was within your visage when you came through the door, yet you paid him no mind as you bee-lined towards your bedroom, like he didn’t exist to you. And, okay, maybe he did deserve that—no, he for sure deserved that after hours of reflecting. He wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate his excuse of not really being aware that the walls were thinner than he had thought.

Jeno winced at the mini play-by-play in his head.

You definitely wouldn’t.

The clock droned on and on with its never-ending ticking. Just a quarter past eight in the evening, Jeno checked, and his heart lurched to his throat, sitting up straighter from his perch at the island counter when you finally emerged from your room. Have you forgiven him? Did this mean you were on talking terms again? Because if he had to be honest, being ignored was a lot worse than you threatening to bite his head off. At least then you were technically talking to him still and not trying to erase his existence with sheer willpower alone.

All hope of making things right, however, was shot down the moment Jeno took a quick look at your change of clothes and the large duffle bag slung over your shoulder.

Panic welled in his chest, causing him to blurt out a garbled, “where are you going?” as you headed straight for the front door.

“Anywhere but here.”

Although there was no heat behind your words from the absence of the anger you had toted around this morning, being hit by your impassive stare has him biting back the haha nice Harry Potter reference. The poorly-timed joke from this morning was the final nail in the coffin and making another one now was a sure-fire way of getting buried six feet under. Alive.

Shortly after, the door closed behind you with a soft click. Much like how Jimin left when you had sent her out, leaving Jeno alone with the deafening silence as his only companion, the pit in his stomach growing when he peeled his gaze from the paneled door to fall onto the pair of steaming cups of coffee.

Mornings for Jeno started with you standing in front of the coffee machine, half-asleep and grumbling threats to the inanimate thing. He’d grown accustomed to the sight of your sleep-ruffled state that it was obvious you had quite the fixation on coffee. At least one cup a day, three at most, you had said with a bashful smile when he caught you pouring your third cup.

Coffee was a necessity in this household. Jeno knew that, knew how you liked to drink yours and he thought making you a cup exactly how you’d like it could melt away the thick walls you had built. A peace offering, or what was supposed to be a peace offering.

Two cups sat on the quartz countertop. One almost empty while the other remained untouched even as Jeno retired for the night.

Jeno walked into an empty kitchen the morning after.

A kitchen devoid of your sleepy form that would be threatening the coffee machine to spit out the liquid bitterness faster, or else. The silence was just as deafening and the cup—your cup—was where he left it the night before in hopes of you coming back home.

You didn’t.

Fuck.

III.

“Prove me wrong by doing it right.”

“And you stayed where? For two weeks?”

“Jaem and Hyuck’s.”

Mark grimaced. “Willingly?”

You gave him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sayin’ you have better options—like Sungchan?” Your face softened, offering a lazy shrug. “Me?”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Yeah, no.”

While you had made plenty of jokes that would last a lifetime consisting of moving in with Mark and ‘the love of his life’, ranging from them becoming your second set of parents, to you being Just There with your best friend married and with kids, the appeal of third wheeling hadn’t increased in the slightest.

“I’ve had enough moaning and groaning haunting my dreams, thanks.” You snorted at the scandalized look on Mark’s face. “and I wouldn’t want to impose on Sungchan and Chenle. Thing One and Thing Two weren’t too bad.”

Although the stay had been surprisingly pleasant, with all things considered, they did poke fun at the situation at first because—duh, men. Regardless, their combined hospitality staved off the possibility of a psychotic break triggered by Jeno’s fuck-up. It would have been better if their third bedroom hadn’t been made into Marie Kondo’s personal nightmare, but the vomit green couch had been a comfortable makeshift bed. Who knew you’d end up loving the product of Jaemin’s horrendous tastes?

Jeno stayed as elusive as ever, too. You came home when you could, only to replenish your clothing and other necessities and much to your relief, you hadn’t run into him yet. Not at the apartment, not at the guys’ place (shockingly) and there was a brief moment where you thought your roommate might turn up at the hospital, what with the onslaught of texts you received, most of them apologizing and begging for you to come home, there was a time where you dreaded going to work in light of the possibility.

(“You’d think Jeno was your boyfriend with the way he’s blowing up your phone,” Donghyuck hollered from the kitchen, in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone. “He’s getting desperate with each text, babe. Even I’m feeling a little sorry for the guy.”

You looked up from the puzzle you were working on the floor with Jaemin to stare at Donghyuck, then to the space where you remembered leaving your phone on its own and now just noticing its disappearance. “How’d you get my phone? How’d you guess my passcode?”

“Zero-zero-zero-zero wasn’t that hard to guess,” Jaemin mumbled. “You’ve always been simpleminded about these things—which reminds me—you still use the same Netflix account since college, right?”).

Jeno was a no-show, thankfully. Causing a scene at work, of all places, would be way beneath you no matter how much he pissed you off.

Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t talk your shit from time to time.

“They’re probably faking it,” you concluded with a scoff and then quickly backtracked. “No. I know they’re faking it and it doesn’t even matter if Jeno’s tall, muscular, handsome, capable—” Mark’s eyebrows rose higher and higher, disappearing beneath his bangs as you continued on with your tangent.

“Precious eye smile—definitely a manipulation tactic… it worked on me.”

That one, you mumbled mostly to yourself, but it was audible enough to earn a short laugh from Mark which quickly snapped you out of whatever the hell that was, and then scowled when your ex-roommate, the catalyst for your suffering, tried to keep his face straight. He was doing a terrible job.

Clearing your throat—far too many times than necessary—you ignored the warmth that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks along with Mark’s insufferably knowing smirk. “My point is, there’s no way he’d be good at sex too. Like, you’re telling me Jeno made all those girls cum? Fat fucking chance. I’m sure there’s, like, a statistic disproving that.”

You didn’t even want to think what Jimin went through, especially when you’ve gotten a glimpse of what monster was begging to be freed from Jeno’s gym shorts. But like clockwork, Mark had to ruin that brief fantasy of you being right about Jeno’s possibly (hopefully) weak stroke game.

“Eh, I’d have to disagree on that one.”

How did he even know that?

“How do you even know that?” You groaned, “I’m distressed enough as it is, Mark, please be serious.”

“I am serious! I literally have the facts to back it up!”

“And what, I’m supposed to believe you?” All you were given was a stare, an arch of an eyebrow just begging to be plucked and shaped, and nothing else. “Fine, what are these facts based on?”

“Testimonies. Plenty of them.”

Your features twisted into that of disgust. “Were you there? In the corner watching him get his dick wet? Like some pervert?”

Mark appeared as though he regretted the decision of coming here. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, so it’s only fair that none of you were having a good time. Might as well make Mark your personal verbal punching bag while you were at it.

“Jesus,” he dragged a hand down his face. The perfect image of exasperation. “The mouth on you sometimes.” 

“Sorry,” you quipped, not sorry at all.

This time, Mark let out a groan much similar to yours, obviously not liking where the direction of the already bizarre conversation was heading. This upcoming headache (see: you) was rightfully deserved though since Mark did lend a hand in forcing you into a situation so embarrassing that you’d take instant death over being an unwilling voyeur to Jeno’s many many late night sexcapades.

“Okay, okay, okay—” Mark began as if the rapid-fire speech wasn’t enough to get your attention, or the fact that it was just the two of you hanging out in the kitchen. “You know how my girl hosts girls’ night every two weeks?”

“How could I forget?” you chuckled. “I missed the one two nights ago and your girlfriend’s really good at guilt-tripping.”

“Yeah,” he trailed off with a tender smile. “yeah—uh, she wanted everyone to be there.” Your own smile was knowing, a smidge teasing even and it was enough for Mark’s cheeks to pinken. “Anyways! One of the girls was painting my nails, right?” He wiggled his fingers, showing his mustard yellow painted fingernails with daisy decals, being the girls’ go-to mannequin every girls’ night. “Aeri brought up hooking up with Jeno a few times from like, a year ago, then it became this whole thing of the girls sharing their own experiences—and wow, you girls are just as gross with the details, like, for real—turns out, they all slept with him at some point! Crazy, right?”

“Even your girlfriend?”

Mark smiled, sheepish. Quite the contrast to your horrified expression. “They shared a gen-ed class. College sophomore year. She went to his frat’s party, they hooked up once and never again.”

“Please tell me the girls hated it at least.”

Mark’s jaw closed with a click, lips pressing into a thin line. “Y’know, I don’t think the word ‘hate’ was like, ever thrown around, honestly.”

Good lord—okay, so Jeno was kind of a slut then. A slut that had infiltrated your friend group (and fucked Mark’s girlfriend!) and left them unanimously agreeing that he earned his merit as an absolute god in bed. Go figure. This might as well be some divine force’s way of saying ‘go fuck yourself!’

“So I just have to live with it, is what you’re saying.”

“I mean…” His face twisted into an expression you couldn’t put your finger on and the nonsensical gesticulation didn’t provide any concrete context needed. Either way, you just knew you wouldn’t like whatever he says next. “If it bothers you that much, just find a new place. You’ve been here long enough.”

“In this economy?” you exclaimed. “That’s like asking me to kill myself!”

Not to mention drastic when you had already paid half of this month’s rent along with the other expenses—as did Jeno—and you really couldn’t afford splurging extra to get away from one minor—major inconvenience. Plus, you were pretty attached to the place.

Deciding on that was kind of a tempting solution, however. You had forgotten what it was like living alone after you and Mark thought to rent a place together post-graduation since you both agreed it was cost-effective, but if Jeno was smart enough to repent for his sins of stealing (sleep) from thy neighbor (roommate), you wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself.

“I should have stayed back and talked to Hyuck about this,” you droned, narrowing your eyes when all Mark did was snort at both your joke and your bias for Thing Number Two (Donghyuck). “He would at least agree that Jeno’s dick’s bigger than his brain.”

Which was farthest from the truth, actually.

Painful as it was to admit, the certificate of Jeno graduating from a joint program of Computer Science and Cyber Security as Magna Cum Laude was tangible proof that Jeno Lee’s brain was wired properly to some extent that It made your own certificate of graduating Cum Laude from your nursing program a bit lackluster. It was an inside joke you both shared; where your degrees and graduation portraits weren’t all that useless as they had been perfect for decoration.

All that’s left now was a sour reminder that Jeno got more bitches than you did every time you glanced up at the immortalized version of him. Looming above the flat screen TV with the effortless sweep of his hair and the sweet, canned smile he flashed at the camera.

While you spent hours to at least make it seem like you hadn’t been trampled on from the harrowing events of final exams, back-to-back practicals and soul-sucking internships, Jeno hardly looked like he had put in any effort—like an in-the-making supermodel taking his head-shots. His hair was in its natural shade of black, longer too with a subtle mullet going. Jeno looked younger, untouched by the trials and tribulations adult life granted anyone breaching that point and less like the sex fiend you would hiss at as a knee-jerk reaction.

The Jeno now fitted the latter description to a tee. This rugged look he’s got going on for him screamed trouble. He embodied what sex on legs meant as well as being the guy a god-fearing father would tell you to stay away from. 

Having said all that, you still thought that even hot people deserved to be humbled. Ever the one to talk shit about someone that had wronged you behind their back yourself, and Donghyuck was always a great shit-talking partner.

“Nice to know you still don’t listen to me. It’s like I’ve never moved out at all.”

“Maybe if you gave actual sound advice, I would.”

“Advice,” Mark parroted, following that up with a short laugh of disbelief. “you want advice? Okay, here’s one—avoiding Jeno won’t put a stop to this. Maybe all of this—whatever this is—could be resolved if you would just, oh, I don’t know, talk to him? Talk like proper adults would? Lay some ground rules or some shit, I don’t know.”

“I already did that! Many times, if you recall what we just talked about, and look where it got me.” 

Temporarily living off of the vomit green couch in exchange for better quality of sleep? Yeah, this was definitely a new low for you.

“Would you bail me out if I was charged for man-slaughter? I’ll pay you back… in a few years.”

“No,” was Mark’s immediate answer. “I’m being serious, babe. Just… talk it out, yeah? Jeno’s worried, texting me and all.”

Huh. Never would you have thought that ‘Jeno’ and ‘worried’ could be mentioned in the same sentence when you sampled just how much Jeno couldn’t give less of a fuck towards the deep lines you had repeatedly drawn, crossing it multiple times, but you supposed there’s always a first time for everything; like how this was a first for you not putting blind faith into Mark’s words.

“I find that hard to believe,” you groused.

Mark’s whole face then twisted into the very expression he’d wear when he’s about to deliver a mean lecture. Unfortunately for you, you had never been an exception to them and you were his best friend! It defeated the whole purpose of the label and the privileges that came with it and as you braced yourself for his god-given right of bitching at you, the sound of the keypad’s beeping made both of you freeze, the fight visible on Mark’s person gone once the automatic lock clicked in place as your faces blenched.

Not one of you dared to move as you listened to Jeno skulking around the foyer with bated breaths.

You could hear a pin drop when your roommate’s shuffling came to an abrupt stop. Then came the sharp gasp, the heavy rushed footsteps and there Jeno was in all his muscled glory; again, in athleisure and panting as if he ran a marathon just to see if his hunch was right.

“Talk to him,” Mark gritted before his face brightened with a capitalistic grin that would usually fool almost everyone and whirled around to greet Jeno with a dialed up amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”

Jeno was nonplussed by this, his gaze still stuck on you which granted a sinking feeling in your stomach when he didn’t do anything else. No smile, no nothing and Mark didn’t seem to pick up on the growing tension. That, or he simply just chose not to acknowledge it, making nice out of self-preservation.

“You look great!” It was kind of painful watching Mark acting as the buffer, yet unknowingly stall Jeno and the impending doom of talking to him. “Strong! You look strong—” as Mark said this, he gave Jeno’s bicep a friendly slap, only for him to reel it back almost a half second later with wide eyes. “Uh, well! I was just leaving—girlfriend’s looking for me so… bye!”

And there he went, leaving you to fend for yourself, but not before giving you a pointed look over Jeno’s shoulder that clearly said ‘fix this, or else’.

Or else, you huffed, Mark Lee couldn’t even hurt a fly—

“You’re home,” Jeno said, tone soft as ever despite the clear ire that was starting to bubble up to the surface from the way you caught his jaw clench. That didn’t stop your pettiness from taking over, however, making a sour face as you turned away from him to grab your favorite mug out of the cupboard.

“What an amazing observation,” you said with the same amount of excitement a school teacher would have if they were to be condescending. “Would you like a gold star?”

“I was worried,” and Jeno, ever the one to not rise to the bait shamelessly dangling right in front of his face, kept his voice even. “You left my texts on read. You didn’t return any of my calls.”

“Wow! It’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, “‘worried’ my ass. You know damn well I left because of you, so you don’t get to act like I’m in the wrong when—“

Jeno cuts you off with a stern call of your name, like he’s had enough. Of what, exactly? As far as you knew, you were simply telling him the truth of the matter: he drove you away because one stubborn part of Jeno Lee refused to listen and admit that he was in the wrong.

Slowly, you twisted your neck to hit Jeno with the most chilling look known to man-kind as the familiar sensation of anger caused each of your muscles to stiffen. The one thing that kept you from tackling him to the ground was the abashed furrow of Jeno’s eyebrows and his downturned lips. He genuinely looked guilty. As guilty as a man could be from getting as much action as a blunt getting passed around a frat-party, but sadly for him, peace was never an option.

He could cry for forgiveness all he wanted and you’d only think of ways to make him cry even harder.

“Look,” Jeno began, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out a heavy sigh. “I just don’t understand why you had to go this far? Avoiding me for two weeks straight—I was worried,” he reiterated, eyes opening just for them to narrow accusingly. “I didn’t know where you were. Mark refused to tell me since ‘it wasn’t his business’—“ and honestly, if this were any other situation, you would have laughed at Jeno’s piss-poor imitation of Mark and the exaggerated air quotes. “—and I had to find out from Donghyuck, of all people, that you were staying with them!”

This was a first. Jeno was never one to completely lose his cool. Always the milder one between you both who knew how to keep his temper in check. Jeno was calm in every sense of the word, with placid smiles and solemn nods—composed even in the most dire of situations where tensions were high. A stark contrast to how you weren’t afraid of baring your teeth to let people know how you felt, swinging your emotions around as if they were a weapon.

Clearly, the Jeno that stood in front of you bore none of that. He was visibly upset—by what could be considered as ghosting him for two weeks straight, which would have been longer if Jeno had come later in the evening. You were starting to believe that the universe simply hated you to the point of cutting the streak.

You stayed quiet, letting your scowl do all the talking.

Jeno pinched his nose bridge. “I’m sorry I slept with Jimin, alright? It’ll never happen again if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed as you shut the cupboard harsher than intended, moving to head for the coffee machine. He still didn’t get it and you’ll need the extra caffeine in your system for this.

“This is not about you sleeping with Jimin! This is about you crossing lines I specifically told you not to cross! How about you try having someone’s life in your hands? My job isn’t a walk in the park, Jeno. I need to be alert. I need to have my head set on straight, but clearly, I can’t have any of that because I have to hear you fucking the next person who looks at you! If any of my patients die, it’s on you. If I lose my job because I let a patient die, it’s on you—why won’t this fucking thing work!”

Your last straw might as well be the shitty coffee machine proving, once again, how shitty it was. You were half-tempted to unplug the thing and chuck it at his head.

God, you were so fucking angry. The two weeks away from home was the semblance of peace you had desperately needed after almost jeopardizing an angioplasty case with Dr. Jung when you caught yourself handing the wrong type of suture he asked for. It was only luck that you were stuck with one of the more approachable surgeons from cardio, letting you off with a lighthearted ‘wake up’ as Dr. Jung gestured for the right one.

Jeno reached over, pressing down on a button while tilting his head. “Are you done?” He said along the low whir of the coffee machine, evidently trying not to laugh.

The minty waft of his breath hit your face and it was then did you notice how close he had gotten. Your toes almost touching as you blinked up to meet his eyes, confused at how fucking fast he got all up in your space while you ranted.

You scowled harder. “Yeah,” and wow, you knew Jeno was one of the few lucky ones who grew to be tall. Height was one of the obvious physical advantages he had, but when put into perspective, having him like this—almost chest to chest—made a huge difference. You felt so small underneath Jeno’s imposing dead-eyed stare as if he was gauging his prey; a silent dare for you to make one sudden move knowing he’d catch you in the end after playing with you for a little, one way or another. “Yeah, I’m done.”

A small smile tugged on his lips. “Less work for me then.”

“Huh?”

Jeno dipped his head so quickly that it took you a second or two to register his lips pressing against yours.

Jeno Lee. The very same Jeno Lee you imagined exploding in your head too many times to the point you grew bored of the gory image enough to consider telepathically saying I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia until it takes and manifests in real life, was kissing you. This was far from the initial possible outcome you would expect in light of the cold war wedging a gap between you that the backasswards had all higher functions of your brain—and possibly the one that had telepathy locked away forever—shut down when he angled his head to press deeper, as if to coax you into becoming an active participant.

The only options left for you to consider were: a.) kiss him back b.) kiss him back since it became crystal clear that whatever method of psychological warfare Jeno waged wasn’t worth stopping. For reference, option b was the obvious choice. The emphasis, the drama of it all complemented your own flair for dramatics and you would rather drop dead than let Jeno have the upper hand. And maybe because you were insane, choosing anything but resolving the issue with a proper talk, and good lord can the man kiss.

It’s his lips, you thought bitterly, lips of plump and petal-pink goodness melding against your own slightly chapped pair that rendered you uncharacteristically pliant.

Normally, you were anything but, though it was a little rewarding to know that Jeno was losing it just as much; the finesse to his methods gradually chipping away along the push and pull of your mouths with the delicious burden of his weight pressing you against the counter to have more than just a taste. A small window was open for some lucidity to seep in, that being Jeno’s forethought of wriggling a hand in between the edge of the counter top and your back so it wouldn’t jab at your spine as the other cupped your jaw, shuddering when his pinky brushed along a sensitive spot behind your ear.

Jeno smiled at this. You felt him smile at this, but you were still stuck on the oddly sweet gesture that you thought to show some gratitude by returning the same level of eagerness Jeno had, suckling and biting down on his bottom lip. At his whine, you promptly soothed the spot with a languid swipe of your tongue and did it all over again. Not that he minded. You could practically tell just how excited he was; all bricked up and prodding the softness of your belly, and he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by it at all. You didn’t think he would be when he had quite the package. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.”

There’s a wry grin tugging at his lips when you both parted for some air. “All I could think about was shutting you up every single time you bitch at me.” He regained the closeness just to brush his lips against your cheek, sighing almost in a dreamy-like manner that you were half-tempted to back out. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t piss me off,” you settled on saying instead as a warning, yet let Jeno—taking it as a cue—lift you up and place you on top of the counter without any struggle that you didn’t even try to hide the fact that the display of Jeno’s raw strength was doing it for you. An infuriatingly attractive feat and you supposed your thought on the matter translated on your face well enough if Jeno’s cheeky grin was anything to go by.

Still, the spread of your legs was no less inviting, something Jeno found funny as he snickered to himself before taking the space in between them for you to wind your arms around his sturdy shoulders and pull him down for another kiss. Mostly to shut him up. Yes, definitely to shut him up.

Jeno parted from you again with an audible smack, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your waist. “Personally—”

You groaned, “oh here we go.”

“Personally,” Jeno tried again, ignoring your yelp when he gave a playful pinch to your skin. “I still think that you’re so pent up that everything annoys you—like me having a healthy sex-life, for example.”

This was it. This was definitely rock-bottom. You were finally in the trenches that you’re entertaining an actual conversation relating to Jeno’s fixation of sticking his dick into willing holes more times than you could count. Oh, and the fact that you were starting to become a little self-conscious from not getting any forms of sex on the regular unlike mister casanova over here.

You hit him with a dubious look. “Where are you even going with this?”

Jeno let out a low hum in lieu of an actual answer and pulled you forward as if he wasn’t already up in your space, the tip of his strong nose gently grazing yours, his lips doing pretty much the same thing too: a gentle brush against your own twitchy pair when he murmured, “don’t you want to let off a little steam? I can help. I want to help.”

And that rightfully stumped you. Not because it was the second time he propositioned you, with the first being more of a joke than anything, but how Jeno actually came off genuine this time around. Not a trace of the smugness could be found either. Just unbridled zeal that being scrutinized by the darkness of Jeno’s gaze birthed a familiar simmering of—horrifyingly enough—want beneath your navel.

There was an argument that could be made here. Where the stubborn part of you could simply claim that it was your curiosity coming into play—wanting to see for yourself if what Mark (and the girls) had said about Jeno was true; that there was a reason why Jeno’s roster was seemingly never ending. You could do that. Though, if anyone were to walk in right now, you didn’t think the compromising position would help in any way when you were quite literally entangled with each other.

Likewise, It didn’t really help that the wretched gremlin burrowing in the debased parts of your brain wanted Jeno Lee so much that you damn near salivated when the man bared more of his neck as a silent ‘go ahead’ for you to ravage the smooth skin with reds, blues and purples with your teeth. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to Jeno that it honestly made you stupid enough to have a taste once the chance presented itself, surprisingly, without wishing an aneurysm upon yourself. 

But you weren’t going to give in that easily. You could just raise that having first hand experience with whatever Jeno had to offer was all for the sake of research and to prove your point.

That’s all that it was. That’s all that it will be; a case study for you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jeno squeaked out his confusion when you ended up having his cheeks squished between your fingers and thumb right when he tried going in for another kiss, causing his lips to pucker out even more.

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?” 

You dug your fingers into his skin harder as a warning when he tested his luck again.

It’s almost comical watching Jeno stiffen in your hold, making a show of gathering enough distance for him to look right into your eyes.

Then Jeno smiled something placid, yet the glimmer in his eyes told you otherwise. You felt so seen that you wanted to curl into yourself so he wouldn’t have to pick you apart with his steely gaze alone. In that moment, you were prey at the mercy of an apex predator just waiting to strike.

“Is that a challenge?” Jeno asked, even-tempered, irritatingly enough.

“And what if it is?” your fingers tangled themselves in the smooth dark blue strands and tugged gently. “Scared that you’ll lose?”

Jeno’s smile widened.

If there was one thing to take away from all of this, it was to never test the limits of a Taurus man’s patience.

Or else you’d end up in a position where your strength—or lack thereof—would be tested; or else you’d end up restless in between Jeno’s spread legs, one of his arms slung down the length of your torso as a seat belt and anchoring you down to his chest while three of his nimble fingers pistoned in and out of your sopping cunt. It was a fight with an obvious outcome of you losing by a landslide with his death grip around you, but you couldn’t help but squirm when he was so good at making you feel delirious just from his fingers making a mess of where you ached the most.

Fingers that were longer and thicker, reaching deeper than yours ever could. With Jeno, it took him no time at all to have you crying out from his digits nudging that sensitive spot within your silken walls, and the same fingers decidedly pulled out without any warning with an impossibly wet sound just for Jeno to switch his attention towards your clit, fingers flicking sideways in quick succession. This urged an immediate reaction, you letting out a shuddering cry as one of your hands shot out to lock tightly around his wrist.

Your head spun at Jeno’s gentle hushing as you twitched in his embrace. Tender words easily slipping past his full lips in conjunction with his almost rough treatment had your body wounding tighter and tighter as the divide between pleasure and pain gradually flattened to gossamer thin with each pass of Jeno’s fingers across your clit. 

He played you like a fiddle, like he knew exactly what to do in drawing out a pleasure filled song from within you until the barrier ripped, sobbing wetly into the air as you and your resolve shattered into pieces with Jeno’s constricting hold around your quivering form kept you from breaking completely.

When you came to, Jeno’s voice was the first thing you latched onto, bringing you back to full lucidity; gentle as he talked you through what was probably the most intense, toe-curling orgasm from being finger-banged on the couch, of all places.

Jeno breathed out a mixed noise of surprise and amazement. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

And it was when you felt the familiar warm and wet trickle from your pussy down to your ass did you finally let the humiliation set it: you’ve let Jeno finger you on the couch, soaking his shorts and the couch as evidence.

You wanted to die.

“Yeah, well, It’s not like I tell everybody I can,” you panted, hissing when Jeno’s hand curiously trailed down to assess the mess, middle and ring finger slipping between your vulva then dipping shallowly into you and rewarding himself with a whine. Uncomfortable as it was to move your neck at this angle, you wouldn’t miss the chance to glare at him. “like—‘hi! I’m this and that, and I can squirt!—do you know how deranged that sounds?”

“I dunno, I know I‘d be impressed. Intrigued. Maybe even ask for a demo—”

“Jeno.”

“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Jeno snickered as he retracted his fingers, only to stick them into his mouth with a pleased hum, like it was the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his life. “What?” He asked, muffled from suckling on his fingers still, when he caught you gawking at him, completely mortified by the shameless sweep of his tongue around his digits.

You wanted to cry. “You’re a fucking freak.”

“Oh princess, this is nothing,” Jeno finally freed is mouth of the visual torture, a broad grin stretching spit-slick lips when he, again, took in your visceral reaction towards being called princess. He’s so annoying. You verbalized the thought and the fucker just laughed. “Call me a freak again when I ask you to soak my face,” he said, voice sweet, wincing slightly when he held your cheeks, with damp fingers and all. Freak. “Or would you like it better if I beg instead? I’m flexible. I’ll do anything you want.”

Never mind, that was much much worse. Holy fuck. The visual in your head did nothing but spur you on even further no matter the aftermath of a thigh shaking release taking its effects now.

“Stop talking,” you groaned. “please, just shut up.”

“Okay.” Jeno giggled. Giggled, like he wasn’t an insane person delighting himself to your bodily fluids just a few seconds ago. Then to add insult to injury, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “Think you can go another round?” 

So he made you cum once—squirt, for that matter, but that’s, like, whatever when you were capable of doing that on your own. You had plenty of time figuring out what you liked best in this realm of preferences and for all you knew, Mark was simply fucking with you—just like the other girls probably were—as some sick elaborate joke, and Jeno was simply overcompensating for the sake of his ego with their help.

“Just… give me a few. I’m starting to go deaf.” Well, not really. It felt more like there was cotton stuffed into your ears, your own voice sounding muffled and faraway. Although you weren’t new to the feeling, it wasn’t common either and it was especially new that another person was able to render you into this sluggish version of yourself.

He sucked in a breath. “Was it that good that you’ve gone temporarily deaf?”

Other than that, then came the numbing of your scalp. You’ve read about this once, a product from genuine curiosity after a little moment of freaking the fuck out, thinking you were about to die from cumming too hard to the point of losing circulation up there in your brain. And—no you weren’t dying, though it would be an interesting way to go.

You followed up with this just as the blunt edges of his fingernails lightly scratched at your scalp. “I literally can’t feel that except a slight pressure—and don’t get too cocky. This happens to me when I get myself off too.”

Jeno didn’t get even a second of gloating before you started rambling about the possibilities of why this happens with a basic rundown of the nervous system (rapid increase in heart rate and blood pressure) and completely disregarding the stiff outline of Jeno’s pride pressing snugly into the cleft of your bare ass cheeks.

He felt just as hard as he was when you sucked faces in the kitchen. Warm. Big, that you had no idea if the shakes you were getting now was out of fear for Jeno’s cock potentially rearranging your guts to the point of no return, or out of anticipation from that possibly happening. Though what was more shocking was Jeno maintaining some sort of chivalrous streak, staying where he was and putting your pleasure first before his own when he could pretty much turn the tides and have his way with you.

But like a dog being told to stay for a promised treat, Jeno doesn’t do anything, besides soothing you with absentminded caresses here and there while he listened.

At least that’s how you thought this slip in judgment was going to end right until Jeno picked you up in one fell swoop, abruptly—and rudely—cutting you off from the build up towards a detailed spiel of a hypothesis to instead let out an undignified yelp of surprise. He hauled you up without any visible struggle and it was doing horrible horrible things to your psyche.

“Seriously, Jeno,” you exclaimed, grunting when he wrangled you onto your knees, your chest pressed down onto the coffee table as if you were nothing but a doll he gets to twist and bend for his own entertainment. “Were you even listening?”

“Uh huh—something about the temporary effects of an orgasm to the nervous system,” he trailed off at the same time his fingers grazed your skin while rucking up your pullover, just high enough that you shivered against the cool glass surface. “I’ll be honest with you, Human Biology wasn’t exactly interesting to me, but the little science session was cute.”

The glass was doing wonders in cooling down your cheek.

This was the second time he has called you cute. So casually too that you started to think that maybe Jeno had a thing for embarrassing you, see you squirm, whine, make a fool out of yourself—overall, make your life more difficult than it already was.

“Dick,” you quipped, all too weak to actually mean it and Jeno seemed to get the memo, offering a short laugh. “do I have to fit a certain criteria to do this in your bedroom?” you followed, mustering up some strength to glare at him over your shoulder, only to falter when you found Jeno was rather preoccupied with something else.

It’s no secret that Jeno was simply born with a resting face so sweet and unassuming that there was this perceived notion of him not having a mean bone inside that clean-cut body of his. That Jeno wasn’t capable of dishing out noteworthy comebacks aimed at the ego. 

Sure, he could be unaware at times (as per his loud sex problem), but you couldn’t deny the simple truth that Jeno could be nice—is nice. So nice. Sweet even, that the expression crossing his face was just as honeyed and becoming more so the longer he stayed kneeling there, raking his eyes over your half-naked form bent to compliance. It wasn’t the blatant leering that got to you though, but more of how Jeno looked doing it. Who knew the mole smack dab in the middle of your back could be adored this much?

There’s a faint smile tugging on his lips. Miniscule, barely there—still a smile, nonetheless, as he traced the length of your back with his eyes, his large hands essentially doing the same: mapping the entirety of your torso for his own indulgence until he got his fill; warm palms gluing to the soft dips of your waist, all the while his face twisted where it gave the impression he was seeing what was front of him for the very first time.

You looked away, face hotter than it was before.

Whatever that was seemed too private of a moment to witness. It felt intimate—the way his eyes drank in your body—too intimate for a ‘one and done’ thing that you seriously couldn’t wait to get fucked and put an end to this hands-on case study of Jeno’s whore-ish tendencies.

“So no bedroom, then,” you said, hoping it would snap Jeno out of it.

“Sorry, princess.” And, to be fair, Jeno did sound apologetic for a man that was about to get his dick wet for the umpteenth time. You gave him points for trying, then docked off some because princess. Really? “I don’t think I can make the trip to my bedroom. Need to fuck you now or else my dick will fall off.”

You closed your eyes, dropping your chin forward far enough that your forehead met the glass surface with a dull thunk.

So much for thinking he was sweet during a moment. It’s like the more he opened his mouth, the more he inched away from the polite friend-of-a-friend gym-bro who probably helped grandmas cross the street.

“Ugh—fuck you.”

“Mm, yeah.” You stopped counting the last time you had fallen into bed with someone else, and you were starting to think that it has probably been a while; if the brush of spandex against your skin from Jeno fumbling behind to drag his shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free has you completely losing it. Jesus, this was embarrassing. “You’re about to.”

You scoffed, “corny.”

Jeno didn’t deign the cattiness with an answer and instead let his growing impatience speak for itself, kneeing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer until your sharp intake of breath pierced through the once still air when the sticky head of his cock prodded at your hole.

“Any time now.”

Trying to sound unaffected was truly a Sisyphean task. You couldn’t help it, really. Being snarky came natural to you, though if Jeno could tell you were just talking your shit to cover up your impatience, he did nothing about it and went about with teasing you, dragging his length back and forth against your slit.

“I’m literally becoming dryer the longer you keep this up.”

That got a reaction out of him this time, letting out an incredulous laugh, “there’s no way of shutting you up, is there?”

“I don’t know, you can try hard—” whatever else that was supposed to follow immediately died at the tip of your tongue, gasping at the sudden intrusion.

“Oh! Well that’s one way.”

Another version of Jeno in your head just died of spontaneous combustion. You could literally hear him smile. Smiley bastard.

It was intense for sure. As intense as it could be after a stupidly long dry spell that you genuinely felt as though you were reborn a fucking virgin and made the mistake of picking the very guy with a third leg for a dick to pop your cherry. If the head of his cock breaching your pussy had you this frenzied, who knew what the actual thing could do to your actively deteriorating sanity? And—well, you were about to find out, weren’t you?

The reality of it all hit you like a freight train, the groan Jeno breathed out sounded so loud even over the mechanical drone of the air conditioner when he pushed deeper into you.

“Jen—oh my God—wait—” You reached behind to grab onto Jeno’s ass cheek at breakneck speed. A grave mistake, really, because in what you would hope could have stopped Jeno from basically splitting you into two, you unintentionally helped him plug you up. Your nails dug into his flesh as a result.

“Careful with the claws,” he hissed. “They actually hurt.”

“Yeah?” He yelped when you squeezed his ass tighter, his own hand holding onto yours to stop you from doing actual damage. “Try getting impaled by a dick, dickhead.”

Jeno went rigid. “You’ve had sex before, right?”

“Yes?” You looked at him like he was stupid over your shoulder and—all gods above. He already looked fucked out. Cheeks pink, skin shining with sweat (when did he take his shirt off?) and eyes darker from how blown out his pupils were—you know, maybe you weren’t too far off from the thought. “But unlike you, I don’t fuck the next thing that breathes my way.”

“Wow,” Jeno huffed. “Clearly I’m doing something wrong if you’re still running your mouth.”

You had a long history of letting your mouth run before your brain could even decipher if what you had to say would be ideal for the situation. To get out of it, though, was a completely different story and with how things are unfolding, yeah, maybe you bit off more than you could chew.

“No, no—shh, it’s okay. You're okay,” Jeno soothed just as you squirmed, trying to relax. “You're doing so good for me. Just breathe, yeah? Jus’ a little more—oh, fuck.” The guttural groan coincided with the squeak you let out once Jeno shoved himself balls deep into you with a faint slap of skin, clenching around him.

Out of all the men you’ve been with in the past, it took you the longest to adjust around Jeno’s girth. Not only because you simply did not have the time to fuck around, but he really was huge in the sense that he was somehow hitting places that you didn’t even know were there. He truly was the biggest you’ve taken in a while and it was a relief that you had the day off tomorrow and the day after; plenty of time to recover. The thought of having to explain getting railed over your coffee table to the point you were walking funny was mortifying enough as it is.

“This is so much better than hearing you bitch and moan, seriously. Sometimes I start thinking you just want me to hate you.” Jeno didn’t look like he was capable of hating anything if he tried, though with the way his hips drilled mercilessly into you, maybe a tiny part of him could. If pushed right. “And you complain so damn much about the noise when you’re no better. Can you hear how fuckin’ loud you are now?”

You didn’t even realize Jeno was still holding onto the hand that seemed to permanently glue itself onto his barely-there ass cheek until he took your joined hands—fingers laced and all—to migrate beside your head. Right in front of your face and, somehow, it felt like an insult.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Jeno Lee,” you moaned and squeezed his hand at a particularly hard thrust jostling you forward. “Fuck you and your useless big dick.”

Jeno snickered. You still called him big, so he’ll take that as a win. “My dick is one of those things and it’s not useless.”

Jeno didn’t really mind how loud you actually were. In fact, he liked it. A lot. Liked hearing how good he was making you feel with each drag of his cock within your warm and slick insides. Liked knowing that he was the reason why you were so lost in your own song of pleasure as you fucked back onto him with all you’ve got when he stopped all his movements to see what you would do and goodness, were you a sight for sore eyes. And Jeno was glad to witness all of this.

You were truly a fantasy come to life. Something he’d never would expect to touch, to mold and to feel in his own hands.

Watching you take what you wanted with no complaints was not an expected outcome—hell, having sex with you wasn’t what Jeno was hoping to get from tonight at all. Talking would have been just fine, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course not. Not when you were putting up a show, fueled by your own greed for pleasure, for him and him alone and he could tell all that pent-up stress was starting to seep out the more the back of your thighs met his.

Jeno was a patient man for sure. He was known for it at work. When it came to his diligent daily visits to the gym just two blocks away. When it came to living life in general; yet somehow, you were part of the minute collective that was able to test that until there was nothing left of it and as much as Jeno loved seeing you like this; desperate enough for cock that doing all the work was no problem, he quickly grew bored being a spectator.

There was also you threatening the safety of his skull if he didn’t get a move on to fuck you harder. Jeno only let out an amused snort at this, thinking it was cute and leaned forward so you were chest to back.

“I hoped for a second you’d be begging,” he mumbled into your nape. “you’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Fuck me, or I’ll make sure you’ll never get to fuck anyone else ever again.”

Well.

You did make a compelling argument, and just like how this all went, Jeno followed and delivered.

It was made very clear to you that his muscles weren’t just for show because unlike you, he possessed an insane amount of core strength that it barely dented his stamina when he lifted you up a couple of inches above the coffee table. Your joined hands came in clutch for balance while his free hand acted like a necklace loosely wrapped around your throat so Jeno could kiss you as his hips regained momentum.

Kissing gradually became less of a thing and more of just you both breathing into each other’s mouths, completely taken over by the sheer pleasure of it all. Normally, you’d avoid his eyes if you could, but you were so far gone that you didn’t mind staring into the endless pits of Jeno’s hooded stare. His thrusts slowed down, yet they were more deliberate than ever that it took all of your leftover energy to not say anything stupid like how this change in angle and pace had Jeno plunging in so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat.

“‘m close,” he rasped, hand on your neck tightening a smidge as his movements steadily increased in speed. “How about another one from you, huh? On my cock this time?”

You could only sound a shaky hum and that was enough of an answer for him.

Heated and damp skin met the glass surface once more and Jeno’s cock snugly fit inside of you again with little to no resistance. It was almost the same as how you started out. The only difference was your navel pressing firmly against the table by your still joined hands pushing down onto your back.

Time wasn’t wasted at all and that change alone fully intensified the sensation of Jeno’s girth drilling into you like he was trying so hard to carve a space that he could only fill, even more so when you wriggled and squared your hips to take him in better. It made so much of a difference that your eyes rolled back into your skull as mindless pleasured noises spilled past your lips, your grip around his fingers growing tighter that it hurt your own.

The second wave of your orgasm encroached at a dangerously fast pace from the oversensitivity earlier and the consistency of Jeno’s perfectly timed jackhammering thrusts hitting the tender spot within you, forcing out tinny ah ah ahs out of you as you clenched around him from how mind-numbingly amazing this was, being underneath Jeno’s weight.

It’s been too fucking long that the delirious part of your brain, completely compromised by the rush of dopamine and oxytocin from cumming for the second time entertained the idea of keeping Jeno buried in you long enough until your insides molded around each ridge and vein of Jeno’s cock for the perfect fit. You’ve never felt this full in your life. Even the frantic pistoning of Jeno’s hips aided by the wet gush of slick didn’t shatter the illusion. The feeling of cotton stuffed into your ears came back tenfold.

“Close,” Jeno rasped. “Where—where?”

“Pull out,” you said, all too winded to add that you were on the pill, but you didn’t want to take your chances. Apparently the tension was that bad that none of you had the forethought of using a condom. Your minds were so clouded that critical thinking was impossible, but what’s done was done.

Jeno pulled out with a slick sound, followed by a shaky moan that grew louder and louder with each stroke of his cock, leaving you to whine from the loss (wow, you were so out of it). Warm cum splattered onto the sweat-damp skin of your back and for once, you didn’t have the heart or energy to complain about the sticky mess

Click.

Your eyes shot open. “Did you just take a photo of me?”

“Yeah,” Jeno said. “You look good like this. Pretty. Wanted to have something to jerk off too.”

He could have just stopped at pretty. “You’re gross. You aren’t going to show that to anybody else, are you?” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t like sharing and I actually value my life.”

You could only groan in response, sagging more against the now moist surface of the glass as if you were trying to merge yourself with it, feeling the after effects of Jeno trying to fuck the life out of you.

“I think I’m going to die.”

Jeno responded in kind with a sweet laugh, letting go of your hand. It didn’t even register that you still had your fingers intertwined up until he let go, and tempted as you were to lift yourself up and see what kind of face he was making now that he left his mark on you, you were genuinely too exhausted to do that.

“That good, huh?” His hands returned to your hips, squeezing them gently. “I told you so.”

With the last bit of your strength, you kicked at his thigh.

“Okay, let’s get you up.” He swiped his discarded shirt up from the floor to wipe away the cum before lifting you up by the armpits so you’re on your knees, settling your weight onto your calves as he watched your pullover delicately fall into place and cover up most of your skin. Your own name on his tongue sounded so far away to you. “—hey. You still with me?”

There’s a hum as a response and that’s it. Not only did he end up fucking all the stress and tension out of you, there goes half of your life, too. Gravity took over and you fell right into his chest with your head cushioned by his bare shoulder, eyes glazed over.

“How does a bath sound?”

You nodded, letting your eyes slip closed as Jeno adjusted your slumped form to carry you.

Jeno almost jumped out of his skin when your phone rang.

“Hello?” Jeno said quietly after scrambling for it on your side of his bed, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He didn’t think you had granted him the perk to simply barge into your room just yet, so he had you clothed in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of new boxer shorts as you dozed away.

“Jeno? Why do you have her phone? Did you kill her before she killed you?”

“No.” That made him worry. How often did you tell anyone who’d happily lend an ear that you’d murder him in cold blood? Whatever, hopefully after tonight, things will smoothen out. “She’s asleep right now. She won’t be heading back over there tonight.” Or ever, he thought.

“Oh?” Jaemin sounded excited for a second, then turned suspicious. “Why? Did she forgive you yet?”

Jeno let the question marinate for a moment, weighing the benefits of letting one of the nosiest people he knew in on his business. A loud snort followed by some mumbling startled him and Jeno craned his neck to find you now facing his side of the bed, still asleep with your mouth parted in a darling little ‘o’. There’s drool at the corner of your mouth. You’ve never looked cuter.

“Define… forgive.”

For once, Jaemin, surprisingly, was rather quick on the uptake “Oho? You two fucked it out, didn’t you?” When Jeno didn’t answer right away, Jaemin gasped. “Jeno, you dog!”

His cackling caused Jeno’s cheeks to flush an impossible red. “Don’t make it weird!”

“You made it weird the second you decide to sleep with her. Besides, we’re all adults here! I promise I won’t tell my third unofficial roommate“—Jeno wished he could reach through the phone right now and choke the life out of him—“that you told me. Tell me everything. Down to the nastiest detail—Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re home just in time. Guess what—“

“I’m coming by and getting the rest of her stuff in a bit.” The whining fell deaf onto Jeno’s ears. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

He hung up, gently sliding your phone underneath the pillow you’re using. Actually, maybe you'd let him in your good graces if he went to fetch your charger.

Just when he thought peace and quiet had finally been attained, his own phone started buzzing from an onslaught of messages.

Hyuck: U GUYS FUCKED????? Hyuck: WITHOUT ME??? Hyuck: NO FAIR 😭😭😭😭

Jaemin: OR ME??? Jaemin: spare coochie plz 🥺🤲🏼

Hyuck: was there a tape at least 😔

Jaemin: 👀

Jeno: I hope she kills you both when I show her these.

Jeno set his phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ and tossed it carelessly onto his nightstand.

This was not your room.

With each toss and turn, it still smelt like man, which wasn’t completely awful. It’s a rather pleasant scent; fresh, not too overwhelming on the citrus notes and something woodsy and floral binding everything together. A little too summery when it was currently in the middle of autumn, but you supposed you were in no position to judge when you’ve been using the same perfume since high school.

All in all, it was still nice. If not a little off-putting, not waking up entangled in your linen sheets which was starkly different from how your usual mornings went, yet the exhaustion was what kept you from making a huge fuss. At least Jeno's room didn't harbor the aesthetics of anything from the r/malelivingspace subreddit. Jeno's room was rather nice. Clean. Neat. Evident that a man lived here.

Apart from the abrupt change, there was also the bone-deep soreness serving as a heavy reminder of the aftermath of your decision to sleep with the very same person who took it from you.

And how ironic that he was also the reason why you slept so well last night too.

What a way to end your so-called case study with you as the punchline, really and—fine, maybe Jeno did have the room to boast his admittedly exceptional stroke game. Maybe Jeno knew how to make people cum and it was a fluke that he made you, too. Twice. Maybe Jeno earned his merit of being an expert in the field of sex then.

Your lips wobbled, frowning at Jeno’s ceiling.

This was literally the worst discovery of your life. Being a test subject yourself to see if Jeno’s reputation had preceded him didn’t make it any less horrifying. How could you return to normalcy after this?

You buried your face into one of Jeno’s many pillows and screamed.

Luckily, he hadn’t caught wind of your morning breakdown.

After freshening up in the bathroom, you quietly made your way towards the spacious kitchen, assuming it’s where Jeno was, albeit slowly as each step you took made the ache in between your thighs more pronounced. He had his back to you, bare of anything besides the tight boxer briefs and the frilly pink apron shielding his torso from the splattering oil cinched around his waist.

Jeno Lee painted the very picture of temptation in this current moment. Jacked all to hell, complementing his god-like proportions that showed off his slutty waist women alike would die to have and a striking face that could start wars. But out of everything, your gaze lingered on his barely-there ass wondering if your nails did leave any stinging marks that Jeno would feel for days.

“Oh, hey. You’re up—were you staring at my ass?”

From his behind, you immediately stuck your eyes onto something else less suspicious—like the geometric light fixture just above his head you once hoped would knock him out one day.

“No I wasn’t,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Can’t stare at anything that isn’t even there.”

“Hey!” Jeno whined. “I do have an ass!”

“And I have a dick,” you shot right back and made your way towards where the shitty coffee machine was. Just a few paces away from where Jeno stood. “See how easy it is to lie?”

He sighed. “How come you have an answer for everything?”

You cracked your first smile of the morning. Smug, if anything, but a smile nonetheless. “You just make it so easy.”

“Damn, so even the sex wasn’t enough,” Jeno muttered as he flipped a pancake with an effortless flick of the wrist. “How many rounds will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Zero.” If looks could kill, Jeno would have burst into flames by now. “Is sex all you think about?”

“I can think of other things…” he trailed off, giving you a quick glance with a sweet moue on his lips. “most of my thoughts are of you, so…” Jeno turned to you fully, his eyes gaining a hopeful shine.

That shocked a short laugh out of you in spite of yourself, shaking your head as you marched for the cupboard. “Nice try, big guy—and the sex?” You shot him a quick glance over your shoulder. “You can forget about it.”

“Okay.”

You looked at him again. Jeno was now frying eggs with his face devoid of everything but concentration.

“I still hate you,” you added, loudly.

The sunny side-up eggs slipped cleanly onto a large plate. “Mhm.”

“It was a one time thing.” Somehow his lack of a reaction was slowly getting to you. “It’s not happening again. Ever. I’m not having sex with you again. Ever.”

“Yeah, I got you the first time.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.” You harrumped, making a quick grab for your favorite mug before coming face-to-face with your stupid ass coffee machine.

This was not your stupid ass coffee machine.

What sat in place of the old piece of junk Granny had given you as a housewarming gift (after expressing her concern for your possible caffeine addiction) was a newer model you were pretty sure most, if not all, lifestyle influencers had displayed in their meticulously curated coffee corner. This was built mostly for convenience and to fit into the current trend of aesthetics, no wonder you couldn’t get it to work last night. Muscle memory had you pressing the wrong button.

Slowly, you pried your trembling eyes from the brand-spanking-new replacement to watch your roommate in his element, completely unaware of you currently going through the greatest shock of your life, and back.

You looked closer. There was a Post-It stuck onto the side.

I’m sorry (.◜ᯅ◝) — your asshole roommate.

Jeno bought you a new coffee machine.

“Hey Jen?” you called softly after a full minute of inner deliberation.

Jeno hummed his acknowledgement. He even fried the bacon just how you liked it. There’s no way you couldn’t forgive him now. You were mean, sure, but you weren’t evil. Why did he have to be so nice?

“Can you show me how the coffee machine works?” Then, just as quietly, you added: “please?”

He turned to look at you with the most brilliant smile as he killed the fire.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Mark (ER): so did you two talk yet Mark (ER): ..hellooooo Mark (ER): did you kill him 😟

You: no? tf

Mark (ER): so u guys r good now or

You: 👍🏼👍🏼

Mark (ER): omg TWO thumbs ups 😀 Mark (ER): are u bffs now ??? Mark (ER): i was here first btw

You: go bother ur gf omg??????

a/n: *taps mic* ...hello is this thing on? First things first, thank you so much for reading until the end! Originally, this was supposed to come out as a full one-shot, but life has been all sorts of crazy that I simply haven't had enough time to work on this fic as much as I would have liked to. And upon realized it has been so fucking long since I've posted the teaser, I decided to just split it into two parts to get something out, so I truly apologize for the very long wait! I do hope you enjoyed the read and please please let me know your thoughts on it <3

bonus of me going thru it in our chat lovingly named 'en-ct':

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @rjreins @pinknjm @kshynj @dorkyji @notevenheretbh1 @everytimeicrymytearsdonteverdry @iscocohere @seulkikiii @wintahh @peachesmilk @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @bluedbliss @tiramisubox @jinxxdreamz @minkyuncutie @txnml @yawnzshit @suhwife @carelessshootanonymous @sanctify-mp3 @haechansbbg @dreamiestay @ryuvrsie @derywinkle @byungbyungbaek @surrealxox

[like-supercute]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐

fake dating jisung !!

a/n: this is kind of all over the place but i hope yall are pickin up what im putting down 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

[like-supercute]

Love Shot | c. j.

➸ synopsis: Were you best friends with a cupid? Yes.

When your favorite cupid manages to shoot himself with his own arrow though, you realize you may be best friends with the clumsiest cupid in the heavens.

➸ starring: choi jiung x female reader

➸ word count: 2.5k words

➸ general content: cupid!jiung, the reader is a succubus(demon that typically appears in men's dreams or wakes them up to have sexual intercourse), there is somewhat of a power imbalance between the reader and jiung thanks to the latter's innocence, smut

➸ warnings: like one swear word, kissing, grinding, piv, creampie, corruption(?)

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author's note: don't get it twisted, this was not self-indulgent(is lying), this was all for the beloved @ashonheavenscloud whose birthday was yesterday. welcome to the double decade club bestie <3

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! you don't need to listen to it while reading(especially if the lyrics will bother you), but I really thought Touch by Keshi kind of encapsulated the thoughts/feelings in jiung's head.

“So let me get this straight,” you say, putting down your cherry-cola bottle on the kitchen peninsula. The man panting against the wall watches your every movement as he waits for you to speak.

“You went to a nightclub to finish your matchmaking quota, and forgot to make yourself invisible,” you recall, fighting a laugh, “and some drunk guy stumbled into you and you ended up shooting yourself?”

Jiung gulps and nods frantically, not having moved from the space next to your front door since you dragged him into your apartment, originally frightened by his helpless disposition. But now you slap a hand against your thigh, doubling over in laughter as you mull over the absurdity of his situation.

“And you came to me, of all people?”

“You’re the only person I thought wouldn’t laugh at me for something like this!”

“So sorry to disappoint,” you sigh, wiping a tear away. Jiung has half a brain to pout at you before he slides further down the wall, hands grasping at the flat surface for something to hold onto as his face contorts again.

“God, it just keeps getting more intense,” he nearly whines, eyes rolling back before his head falls forward. “What happens when a cupid shoots himself with his own arrow?”

“Right, ask the succubus if she knows why the silly cupid is in pain.” You remember the pain relievers in your cabinet, and decide to save your best friend, if only for a few hours.

“I’m not-” his breath hitches, and he bites down on his lip to muffle what you’re sure would have been a scream. “Do I look like I’m in pain?”

“Yes,” you nearly laugh again, incredulous at his stubbornness. He moves off the wall, nearly tumbling into your favorite chair with a whimper, and the sound makes you reconsider your answer. “Actually, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were-”

You halt your search for ibuprofen as you turn to look at Jiung, breathless and pink and slumped in a chair with his eyebrows knitted together. His uniform white button-down was nearly all the way unbuttoned now, and you remember Jiung claiming that you had raised the temperature of your apartment when you in fact, had not. 

Holy shit.

Maybe he had come to the right person, albeit unknowingly.

“Jiung, I want you to be very specific this time,” you say slowly, closing the door of your cabinet and exiting the kitchen. “Tell me about when you started feeling this way.”

“O-Okay, um…” 

You sit near him on a couch, eyes trained on him as he stares at the carpeted floor.

“I was walking home from the club; I left right after I got shot, because I was scared,” he explains through labored breaths, “and then I realized that I was nearing the hotel you’re staying at.”

You nod, not finding anything strange about that string of events.

“The…feeling started right after I thought about you, though.”

“What feeling?”

“Uh…” Jiung thinks for a moment before slapping a hand over his mouth, muffling what is probably the most desperate sound you've ever heard from him before continuing. “I don't really have a word for it? I'm just hot…and tingly all over…and a little dizzy.”

“And that started just because you remembered my hotel room?”

Jiung flushes an even deeper pink.

“...no.”

No?

Oh.

“Then what were you thinking of?”

He shakes his head, bouncing his leg against the chair.

You take note of his line of sight and leave the couch, kneeling on the ground beside his legs. He quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to stare at your shorts or your thighs or your anything, afraid the feeling will only get worse.

“Jiung,” you whisper, taking his hand off of the armrest and holding it, “it's okay. You can tell me.”

“I can't.”

“You can.” You stand up and brush some strands of hair away from his face, giving you a clear view of his blown out pupils as you lean over him and rest one hand on the chair. His eyelashes flutter at your touch, but he still won't look at you, so you gently grasp his chin and lift it.

He looks into your eyes for all of three seconds before his resolve shatters.

“I thought about you when you came back from work the other day,” he confesses, not breaking eye contact. “You were wearing this tight dress and you looked so pretty in it, and I wanted to…” He trails off and bites his lip, and you can't tell if he's withholding his thoughts from you again or if he genuinely has no clue what he wanted.

“You wanted to…?” 

“God, I don't know. I just wanted you close to me.”

From how you're holding his chin, you allow your thumb to move upwards slightly, sliding against his plush pink bottom lip. He blinks at you rapidly and shivers, not sure what to make of the way you're staring at his mouth.

“Jiung, is it okay if I kiss you?”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, legs finally stilling.

“S-Sure,”he whispers, eyes darting all over your face once you start to lean closer, “I don't know how that would help, but-”

“Just let me know if you want me to stop,” you cut him off, and he fully relaxes back into the chair before you lightly graze your lips against his.

His eyes flutter shut and you get to work, leaning in fully and pressing your mouth to his as your hand slips behind his neck, tangling itself in ash-colored locks that reside there. Jiung has seen humans kiss before, but he's never paid it any mind, never understanding why they would want to embrace each other in that way. Now, he's never understood them more as he reacts so quickly to your touch, whimpering the moment your lips lock and trying to suppress the shivers that run through his body at the trace of your tongue.

The feeling of your mouth on his is borderline euphoric, tendrils of heat licking at every part of him before you tilt his head, allowing you access to the inside of his mouth as your lips slant against his. He doesn't know why he had never wanted to do something like this with you; in this moment he feels as though he could die a happy man, with your hands tugging on his tresses.

And then you were doing something different, something worse; you start leaving kisses in other places too, against his cheek, against his jaw, even up by his ear, a place that was so sensitive that he felt that he might explode once your lips brush against it.

“Jiung, do you know why you started to have this feeling after you thought about me?” You whisper, leaving a kiss right below his earlobe. The hand that was holding you up off the chair moves to his jean-clad thigh, and Jiung can barely choke out a response.

“N-No?”

“It's because you got turned on,” you explain, now moving your lips down to his even more sensitive neck. God, is there a place you could touch him where he wouldn't feel like exploding?

“Turned on? Like a computer?” You laugh against his neck and nod, and he gets drunk on the melody of your voice, wondering how you'd sound if the roles were reversed. “How do I turn myself off?”

“You need a release.”

“How do I…” he pauses, hardly able to catch his breath. “How do I do that?”

“First you need to build up tension,” you say, slowly sliding your hand up his thigh. “Like this.”

Before he can ask what you're doing, your fingers find his clothed erection, gently adding pressure in a way that has his insides twisting. Kissing seems to ease some of the burning feeling he was experiencing, but this? Already he’s starting to feel some relief.

“Doesn't that feel good?” You purr, pressing harder and earning a needy whine from him.

“That feels…”

Unbuttoning his waistband, you pull down his fly and slip your hand inside, grasping him fully over his boxers. The cupid gasps under you, obviously not prepared for the feeling of your cool fingers around his girth.

“Better?” You ask, squeezing him for good measure.

“Better,” he groans, not being able to tear his eyes away from the sight of your hand on his crotch. Once you start moving your hand again however, he's about to lose himself in the sensation before he looks up, noticing your concentrated demeanor.

“Are you turned on too?”

“Yes,” you nearly chuckle, finding his naïveté endearing. “Ideally it goes both ways.”

“Then let me help you release too,” he pleads, guilt following the wave of pleasure that crashes over him. “I don't wanna be selfish.”

Poor sweet Jiung. Always thinking of others even when he practically has a temptress within reach.

Removing your hand from his pants, you pull back and push his knees together, and before he can whimper at the complete loss of your touch, you kick off your slippers and cage his hips with your knees, straddling him. He doesn't see how this is supposed to build tension until you sit down fully, connecting your hips together and adding back the pressure that he craves so desperately.

You take one of his hands that's gripping the armrest and pull it towards you, guiding him to cup one of your breasts over your camisole.

“Just be gentle and go slow,” you instruct, leaning back in to kiss him despite his widened eyes, “the key is being able to read your partner.”

He barely nods before you're driving him crazy again, slotting your lips together and kitten licking the inside of his mouth. He finds himself kissing back with less restraint, returning your ministrations in earnest and noticing how your breath catches every time his teeth tugs against your bottom lip.

After a few seconds of heated kissing, he tests the waters with a light squeeze of his occupied hand, and a sound he could only describe as absolutely mesmerizing falls from your lips. Subsequently, all reservations he has suddenly evaporates, selfishly wanting to hear you more.

And as he gently massages you, pulling different sounds from you depending on how he caresses you, he thinks back to that dizzying moment on the street. He had never thought about you in that way, had never understood why your tight clothing drew men like moths to a flame, could not see how your particular cadence of speaking was so hypnotizing to the human ear.

Now, with you on top of him and starting to grind your hips over his, he wishes that damned arrow had shot him sooner.

“Can I…” he breathes, unlocking your lips for a moment, “can I kiss you in other places too?”

You nod and move your fingers downward, desperate to unbutton the rest of his shirt and get rid of it.

He's hesitant at first, but the way you're moving on top of him dissolves his shyness and he leans in, ghosting his lips above your pulse point.

He starts to leave kisses just as you undo the last button.

“Jiung,” you whimper, pushing his dress shirt back to hold him by his bare shoulders. His entire body ignites at the sound of your needy voice, his free hand quickly leaving the armrest in favor of gripping your waist. A sense of urgency fills his veins, and although he can't understand what all the rush is for, he can't help but want to please you as fast as he can, desperate to hear his name uttered in such a way again.

You're grinding down on him hard now, driving the cupid absolutely insane while he kisses any skin he can find. His skin is borderline feverish as you grip him tight, determined to reach your own high alongside his.

If Jiung is anything though, he's a damn good listener.

He's only had a few minutes to observe your reactions to his ministrations, and yet he feels as though he's been intimate with you for years, already knowing the ways you prefer to be touched and kissed. So he does exactly what you need him to, hands slipping under your top to run his thumbs along your bare chest, rubbing gentle circles against your hardened buds.

You cry out in beautiful agony, collapsing into his shoulder as you reach your climax. Even the heaven’s chorus doesn't compare to your voice; he doesn't think he could get drunk off of a sweeter sound.

As you come down from your high, you fumble with Jiung’s pants, lifting yourself off of him temporarily to pull them down along with his boxers, just enough so that his length springs free. You don't hesitate to discard your shorts before climbing back onto him and taking it into your hand, hardly giving him any time to react as you sink yourself down onto him. Thanks to your slippery arousal, the action is done with hardly any resistance, and your hips meet his in record time as he gasps.

The sensation proves to be way too much for the cupid however, since after you sink down on him, he only lasts three seconds in your wet warmth before tipping his head back, his face the picture of bliss as he paints your insides white with a drawn-out moan.

The room finally falls silent again, both of you taking in the recent events as you try to catch your breaths. A part of you says you should probably get off of him, but a much louder part of you yells at you to stay put, wanting to relish this shred of intimacy you've been granted.

“How long do the effects of your arrows usually last,” you gasp out, still sensitive and hyper aware of his presence inside you.

“I'm not…that powerful yet,” he sighs, breath hitching slightly as you shift on top of him to look at him. He's a gorgeous mess, hair disheveled, face flushed, and lips swollen. You never thought you'd be able to see your best friend like this, even after years of daydreaming about it. “A couple days max, from what I can tell.”

Damn, that's not as long as you'd hoped. But, with the nature of heaven’s laws, you suppose you should be grateful for this minor slip-up.

“I still have a few vacation days left,” you casually throw out, avoiding eye contact for the first time all night. “You know…in case you'd wanna-”

Jiung doesn't hesitate this time, leaning in to catch your lips with his once more.

extra author's note: I've had this idea for a while, but I've always wanted to know if anyone else has pondered what the effects of a cupid's arrow would do to a cherub. in my head, cupids can't really feel the full range of human emotions/desires because they aren't human. so taking the effect from an arrow, that on a human, would cause someone to become hopelessly infatuated with someone else, would just unlock those emotions/desires that were unobtainable before for a cupid...? don't think about it too hard, this is all in good fun(and to torture my bestie ofc <3)

do not copy or repost. all rights reserved.

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where you are ‣ lee haechan smcu

summary: what the absolute fuck is up baby! fall semester marks the peak of greek life at ncu. the campus quad is filled with tents representing various fraternities and sororities with their letters proudly presented in front of each booth, all eager to recruit new members. as students return to campus, they are met with a flood of fliers and invitations to parties, mixers, and rush events. while you were walking through the crowd of eager freshmen to join these organizations, you bumped into someone very unexpected...

what do you do when you bump into the guy you hooked up with after a music festival during summer break? instead of the royal blue basketball jersey you first met him in, it was replaced by a varsity jacket with the letters reading "ΝΧΘ".

"haechan?"

pairing: fratboy!haechan x fem!reader

genre: smau, non-idol au, college au, fluff, nsfw/suggestive (mdni!) comedy, humor, slight slowburn, strangers to lovers, rave bae core? (am i in love with you or is it just the drugs?)

warnings: mentions of alcohol/substance usage (marijuana, mdma/ecstasy, lsd, cocaine), profanity, jokes about sex and death thrown around, both groups are out of pocket and tmi doesn't exist apparently... no ones safe! the boys gc is kinda questionable (this is where i say men deserve no rights!), haechan x reader met at an edm festival (the term rave bae will be said here and there. rave bae is someone you meet unexpectedly while raving, kinda like your temporary s/o for the duration of the rave or festival... smth like that!) disclaimer notice: these portrayals are fictional and are not intended to encourage or glamorize substance use.

playlist: where you are - john summit | club classics - charli xcx | intimidated - kaytranada, h.e.r. | high and i like it - it's murph, evalyn | what a life - john summit, stevie appleton | saving up - dom dolla | talk talk - charli xcx, troye sivan | mr useless - shygirl, sg lewis, club shy | atmosphere - fisher, kita alexander | thinking about you - calvin harris, ayah marar | gas pedal remix - john summit, subtronics, tape b, sage the gemini

notes: omg!!! my first post ever... honestly i've been debating to do this for a long time... now here i am :D ngl i lowkey based this off a personal experience (i am a changed woman now okay... spare me! 😭) my first lil fic dedicated to haechan!!! the playlist is highly edm biased with a sprinkle of brat. i just think it fits the vibe so well hehe. open to feedback and enjoy!!! ♡

status: ongoing!

taglist: open!

profiles: live laugh love y/n (1), john summit fanboys (2)

intro: so.... edc next year?

one: comedown

two: wtf is college

three: boutta fuckin jump

four: y/n’s eras tour

five: is my brain braining? coming soon!

six: coming soon!

[like-supercute]

depollute me, gentle angel -`✮´- ljn

the feeling of falling in love has never been so sweet <3

genre/tw jeno x reader!! fluff so sweet it’ll rot your teeth! baby & honey used as petnames, jeno being shy and wonderful and in love, minor dreamies features, kissing, the honeymoon phase personified, gender neutral reader! mostly unedited.

w/c 1217

a/n well its been a minute since i’ve written for one of my dreamies, but i hope you like this one <3 i wrote it quick in the middle of the night, and i hope you can tell, its just the tone this love needs 🫀 please enjoy and let me know if you liked it!!

Jeno has never been in love.

When he was younger he thought he might be, a distant memory of a smile, a slight graze of cold hands. Butterflies in his belly and pink cheeks… but those feelings were always fleeting, a quick rush before the fluttering went away.

No Jeno has never been in love, but he think he might be. Two months ago, you walked up to him in the park, pretty lips drawing up; your smile so dashing he had to return it. That smile turned to a phone number, a phone number to a shared cup of coffee—He can’t believe a question about directions have led you here…

You look so sweet under the streetlight, skin aglow and eyes alight.

The pavement is isolated, no one else but the two of you breathing. His hand urges to hold yours, but he can’t trust his palms not to be clammy; He can’t trust his fingers not to shake or the blood not to rush to his face. He wonders if this is being in love, if the feeling always causes discomfort… he wonders if you feel this way too, if the pads of your fingers ache with the need to touch him, the way his do.

Earlier in the night you’d met his friends, grinning the whole time and telling jokes like you’d known them forever. So beautiful, he thought, like a picture that wasn’t finished until you were painted in.

Jeno knows he probably looked silly and love struck, so obvious in his affection that Hyuck made annoying whipping sounds, and Mark pinched his red hot face.

He couldn’t help but smile thinking about it, his lips lifting so high his eyes become crescents—a perfect picture of joy, so alluring you can’t help but ask,

“What’s got you so happy, baby?”

“Nothing, just glad you liked them is all.”

And you did, you liked Jaemin and his quiet chaos, Jisung and his hesitant happiness at the older boys mischief. Yes, you like them, and how could you not when you see Jeno in them all.

He’s there in their laughter and their harmless jokes, you can hear him in them, and you love them for it.

“Well, you love them, Jen… so how could I not?” You see the impact this has on him, the shaky breath he releases into the cold air and the way his strong hand clenches with nerves. He hasn’t touched you all night, too shy and too infatuated, so you reach out to him. Your hands coming to grasp at his arms, rubbing gently at his shoulder blades. He wraps himself around you so quickly, almost like he was waiting for you to say it was okay—such a sweet boy he is, waiting for permission even when it’s always a yes.

You met him in a moment quite like this, quiet and intimate… strangers then but not now.

You thought he was handsome and when he asked for your phone number you were convinced it was a joke. How could someone as lovely as him want to know you? but he did, and now he’s here with you: his face in your neck, and you love him you really do.

You feel his lips first, pressing the sweetest kisses behind your ear and smiling into your hair. Every touch a confession, every caress a promise from a devotee to his deity.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

“You make me so shy, honey…” He says, “so so shy, it’s like I could forget my own name.

“You don’t make me shy… you make me feel alive.” You tell him, and you mean it.

Every moment with Jeno is like accelerating on an empty freeway, like you might just fly if you drive fast enough.

He’s silent after you speak, the passing cars being the only sound around for miles. A quiet so deep, you’d be scared if it wasn’t for Jeno’s strong arms around your waist.

He isn’t scared of your confession; his silence is not fear, it's not doubt, but he needs to do this right. He needs you to understand that he’s new to this, that he’s busy and imperfect, but he loves you. He loves your laugh, the way it’s not pretty or sexy, but loud and silly and so wholly you. He loves the little scars on your hands—marks so old you don’t know where they came from. He loves your smile, your eyes, the way you love his friends and they loved you…

When you went to the bathroom at the restaurant, the boys all smiled at him, but it was Jaemin—Jaemin who’d been quiet all evening—who grabbed his hand and said, good job, puppy , you really did it!

He really did it, he thinks, he found you…

When he speaks again, its with an assurance that's unfamiliar under a streetlight at midnight. So strong with his conviction, your body draws impossibly closer to him.

“I’m so grateful you came up to me that day, y’know. I remember the whole thing, your blue coat and your yellow umbrella… I needed you then, I knew it, I can’t believe how badly I needed you.” He keeps shaking his head, and his hand is weaving its way closer to the back of your head… fingers reaching out to clutch the point your spinal cord meets your skull. “I’m so glad the boys liked you, I don’t know what I’d do if they didn’t…”

“Why wouldn’t they like me, baby?” You ask, “I love you too much for them not too.”

His smile is electric, 80 miles per hour down a dirt road… a smile that makes you feel like flying.

Jeno’s eyes close, laughter so happy it hurts you, and then he’s kissing you. Lips in your hair, reaching down to swipe against the slope of your neck. Butterfly kisses on your jaw, kisses so tender it fills your heart with an pain so sweet, so heartbreakingly beautiful.

When his kiss reaches your mouth, hovering against you and breathing in the carbon your body’s releasing, you wish you could paint this moment—trap it in canvas and hang it above your couch.

“I love you so much, honey, so so much.”

And then his lips are on yours. It’s like he wants to bruise, his kiss taking and taking, breathing you in like it’s all he needs to survive. Every cell, every vein, every muscle and every bone in his body needs you. His heart is beating so fast, he doesn’t know if his arteries can keep up, if he has enough strength to keep standing.

Your blood sings with want, a hunger for his affection that is foreign under this pocket of light.

You love him, you think, you love him and he loves you…

How wonderful a concept, to love and be loved, to have and to hold and whatever nonsense people promise to each other.

You love him and he loves you.

He pulls away from you with a resistance you can relate to, a soft smile gracing his handsome face, as pretty as the stars blotted out around you.

He takes your hand as says,

“Let's go home, huh, wanna love you where it’s warm.”

And you can’t think of anything better.

luvtak 2024

[like-supercute]

texts with boyfriend!haechan ౨ৎ

cw: a few slides contain nsfw themes (mdni !!!), explicit language, haechan is suuuper dramatic

authors note: most of these were found off pinterest !!! they were just sooo haechan coded i couldn't resist 😵‍💫 this is also my apology for putting catch that gomdo on hold HAHAHA happy reading <3 (also nobody mention the fact that i'm reusing this divider please 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

taglist ♡: @ldh0000

[like-supercute]

mark doesn't know | n.jm

“but she’s under me and i’m not stopping”

💿now playing: scotty doesn’t know by lustra

❯ summary: You don’t even remember how it started, but Jaemin does. He’s wanted to get his hands on you the minute he met you — and he’d be damned if he let something as silly as his friend get in the way of the thing he really wants. So alas, you’ve been fucking your boyfriend’s friend for the last two months.

❯ pairings: jaemin x fem!reader (brief mark x reader)

❯ genre: boyfriend’s friend! jaemin, smut, light angst, college!au.

❯ words: 3.1k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, cheating (boo), unprotected sex (don’t do this!), dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, light chocking, hair pulling, begging, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader cheats on mark with jaemin.

You don’t even remember the first time it happened; or more so, how it happened. 

"J-Jaem we really shouldn't be doing this,” you huff out as your boyfriend’s good friend sucks on the skin against your neck, right below your ear. 

His breath is hot, and his touch feels melting. 

"You say that every time, and yet, look where you are. Back with me again.”

Your next words are cut off by the feeling of Jaemin’s lips pressing against yours. You want to give in, but something's on your mind this time — guilt. 

Pushing him back, you try to move from the wall, but he keeps you there. "We can't, not again. Mark’s on his way-"

He covers your mouth with his hand. He fucking hates when you bring him up. He fucking hates that his friend is the one that gets to have you on his arm. And he certainly fucking hates the fact that he had been the one to introduce the two of you in the first place. 

You were Jaemin’s lab partner before you even knew of Mark’s name. One night when you were over at Jaemin’s house for an assignment, Mark just so happened to turn up. If Jaemin had it his own way, he would have never even planned to introduce you to his older friend — but he was the one who told you to answer the door that night. 

And God did he fucking regret it. 

The memory of you answering the door with an immediate blush and flutter of your eyelashes at Mark’s presence played on his mind every time he saw the two of you together. 

You never looked at him like that — well at least not back then anyway. 

In Jaemin’s mind, he had made it very clear that he had a thing for you. He’d made it obvious, hadn’t he? 

Well, that’s what he thought. So, when news hit that you were fucking the older boy and going on dates with him; it was safe to say that Jaemin was beyond pissed. 

And when you were the one to kiss Jaemin one late night of studying — he seized the opportunity because he’d be damned before he lost his shot with you again. And thus, the two of you fucked every Thursday night’s study session. 

"Don't. Don't say his name,” he growls, low and nasally enough to have your stomach fluttering. “Now, nod your head if you're gonna stop worrying and listen to me.” 

You nod your head almost instantly with wide eyes. You couldn’t help the way your pussy grows even more slick, threatening to pool in your underwear, at his dominant demands.

"Good girl,” he says when you obey him, finally removing his hand from your mouth.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, pushing the few dishevelled stands of his hair out of his face to look up at you.

“I’m gonna give you something else to think about." He spreads your legs apart, snaking his hand delicately around your thighs to reach under your dress and tease the waistline of your panties. 

You wordlessly look down at him. And although you're not saying no it’s not enough for him.

"Tell me gorgeous, can I have you for tonight, again?" His voice seems deeper and his tone thicker, eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You close your eyes as he starts to drag the lace down your thighs, "I need words, Y/N. Can I have a taste?" 

"Yes." You sigh out.

"Yes, who?"

"Yes Jaemin.” 

He has you lift up your feet, one at a time, so that he can remove your panties completley. Your eyes shoot open just in time to see him stuff them in his back pocket. Your body starts to throb at the sight — the sight of him being so smitten for you. 

He grabs one of your legs, hoisting it up so that it's over his shoulder, exposing your bare core to him. Jaemin wasn’t a man of withstanding, so he wastes no time working his tongue the only way he knows best — the way you like it.

He starts by licking a long stripe up your wet cunt, groaning at the taste. The sound sends ripples against your clit, making your body jolt forward further on his tongue. 

"Can't believe you wanted to deny me of this,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

He suctions his mouth on your clit, making your breath hitch in your throat. You're biting down on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, as he starts sucking and pulling on the bud. You're certain your legs would have given out immediately had he not offered his shoulder as support.

"Sorry, m'sorry.", you moan, hands coming to grip his hair but he stops you. 

"I didn't say you could touch me yet,” he smirks up at you. 

He continues licking your clit until he reaches his hand down to your cunt to join his tongue. He watches your eyes shut in pleasure; the way your hands are clenching into fists, resisting the urge to touch him, wanting to try your best to follow his orders.

The pads of his fingers go to your swollen nerves, starting to apply pressure with slow torturous circles and your head slumps back against the wall, mouth hung open as a deep moan floats out of you. He lets two of his fingers dip down to your hole, teasing you a bit before sinking them in with no resistance. 

You know you’re not going to last, and you’re too out of your mind to even feel slightly embarrassed about it. You could get down on both knees right now and praise god for those fingers of his.

"I've missed how you feel against my fingers baby, couldn't forget it, soaking wet for me just like last time,” he says, looking up at you with thick lashes. 

It has your skin tingling, and your heart thumping against your chest; so hard that it's rippling down to the throb between your legs that only worsens as he continues pushing. 

"Can feel you clenching on my fingers,” he further teases, voice like gravel as he continues to watch you in amazement. "But I bet you wish it wasn't just my fingers, hm?" 

You bite your lip to stop a moan, but then Jaemin stops the movement of his fingers, pulling a whine from you. 

"Answer me baby. You want my cock in this tight little cunt, don't you?" 

You can practically feel him smile when he nuzzles his face into your thigh, watching you struggle to respond. 

"Jaemin please just-", you choke on your words when he begins to finger you again. 

"Just what? Use your words, Y/N."

"Want you to fuck me, please, stop teasing me,” you whine frustratedly. 

"Y'know I just love to hear you beg. Gonna fuck you, promise, but I want you to cum on my fingers first,” his fingers begin to pick up pace, curling to hit the spongy spot inside to which you cry out. 

Your teeth clamp down on your lip again as you circle your hips against his hand mindlessly, earning hiss after hiss from him. 

"Yeah? Gonna make a mess of my fingers? Be my good girl?" 

You can only moan in response, your mouth dropping open with small pants coming out. You start clinging to his shoulders, trying to stay upright. The sensation of your muscles contracting, with each thrust of his fingers and the heel of his palm rubbing against your aching spot, has your legs trembling.

"So close, Jaem, I’m so close. Let me cum." 

Jaemin looks up, nodding against you in a silent confirmation that you can — and you swear you see stars. You can feel your walls deep inside cracking as he starts sending shockwaves through your body. Jaemin even has to hold you up as your leg almost collapses and your hold on his shoulder tightens.

He continues to soothe and flick over your clit even after you come down from your high, and you're too weak to push him away.

"Jaem- baby I'm sensitive,” you tell him and he finally draws back, grinning up at you with a sly smile. 

He sets your leg down, getting up from his knees to stand right in front of you, his hands cradling your face as he kisses you. 

It’s sloppy and harsh, like he needs this or he’ll die, like he doesn’t want you escaping him, ever. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you groan into the kiss, your hands fisting the bottom of his shirt.

"More- I need more,” you mumble against his lips before kissing him again. 

Jaemin brings his hands from your face, to the back of your neck, using all the power he has to —somewhat— forcefully pull you away from him. 

"You know how this works. You gotta tell me more than that," his voice is just above a whisper, a sadistic smirk on his face as he watches your eyes struggle to leave his lips.

"What do you want more of, hm? More of my mouth?" You shake your head no, and Jaemin pretends to sigh. He tightens his grip on your neck, making you look him in the eye. "If you can't use your words, I can't help you." 

Jaemin knows exactly what you want and how you want it. But he can’t help but love seeing you get all needy and frustrated. It’s his own personal reminder of how much you need him — or better yet — how much Mark isn’t satisfying you. Knowing he gives you something Mark can’t, never fails to make his cock ache. 

"I want you to fuck me,” you finally say, voice barely audible. 

"I couldn't hear you. Repeat that for me?” He taunts and it makes you want to stomp your foot in frustration. 

"Stop teasing me, please. I need you to fuck me.” 

Jaemin grins at this, wasting no time in releasing your neck so that he can pick you up and carry you to your bed — Mark’s bed.

You let out a small squeal, swatting at him to put you down. You hated the way he was always picking you up, but for him, having you wrap around his waist was his way of being as close as possible to you. He tosses you down on the bed, making you look up at him with a glare.

"Be careful dumbass." 

He raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up into that stupid smirk once again. "You've got quite the mouth all of a sudden."

Jaemin kneels down on the bed in front of you, parting your legs so that he can be in between them. 

"Just a few minutes ago it was ‘oh Jaem I’m gonna cum, don't stop please,” he mocks with a small laugh, causing you to bring your hands up to hide yourself. 

Jaemin stops you though, pinning your hands down beside your head. "Oh none of that. Where'd my bratty girl go, huh?"

The way that he barely has to use any of his strength to pin you down, plus his large and muscular frame boxing you in, has you practically drooling. 

He inches his face closer to yours, tricking you into thinking he's going to kiss you, but just as your lips graze his he turns to the side, making you kiss his cheek instead. 

"Jaemin," you whine. 

"Sorry sorry, you just looked so desperate for it, I couldn't resist,” Jaemin knows the effect his words have on you because your hips are bucking up into the air as the throbbing returns to your core.

"Want a proper kiss?" he asks, and you nod, staring up at him with pleading eyes. "Yeah? Beg." 

It's a simple command that usually would have had you scoffing, telling Jaemin to get over himself and stop teasing, but you're so needy for his touch that you give in. 

"Jaemin", you whine again — and oh does he love the way you say his name. "Baby please, kiss me, I- I need it." 

He knows that you can beg better than that, he's heard you do it plenty of times, but he takes mercy on you, partially because his own need is screaming just as loud as yours is. He lets his lips connect with yours and wastes no time ravishing your mouth. 

He growls into the kiss, bringing one of his hands to curl around your throat, adding a little pressure as his tongue explores your mouth like he's never kissed it before.

You two are a desperate mess now, as you start to work with each other until you’re both fully undressed. Breathy pants and soft moans fill the silence in the room. 

Jaemin’s towering over you, his knees poking in between your legs to probe them wider for him. You don’t resist, you don’t want to. One of his hands reaches down to fist the throbbing cock between his own legs as he rubs himself teasingly between your seeping folds. 

"Condom?" You ask, trying to think as clearly as possible.

Jaemin looks almost offended that you've asked, scoffing as he positions his tip at your entrance. 

"Since when have we ever used condoms?" 

"We haven’t. I just thought you might want to-"

You're cut off by a gasp as he begins to push into you, the familiar delicious stretch and slight burn settling in. You hear Jaemin swear under his breath, as his hips flush right against yours. 

"You just thought what?" he asks as his head dips down, nosing along your jawline before peppering wet kisses along your neck.

"I- uh,” you stutter, losing your train of thought from the feeling of him inside you; so deep and hard and rough.

You bite down on your lip. You only ever have Jaemin like this; and you can't explain the overwhelming feeling you get whenever you get to have him with no barriers, getting to be as close to him as possible — even if you didn’t deserve it. 

"It's because of him right? You're worried that he'll have to feel my cum deep in this pretty pussy of yours, aren't you?" 

And although his tone is somewhat playful, there's a bite to it. You know how Jaemin feels about having to sneak around; knew all about how he wishes you were his and his only. 

He doesn't allow you to respond though, knowing that's a conversation you'll have to have at a different time. Instead, his hips slowly begin to rut against yours, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan. 

"Fuck fuck fuck,” Jaemin groans against your ear.

Your hands are clawing at his back as his thrusts pick up pace. And as much as he loves you doing that, marking him as yours in your own special way, he redirects your hands to his hair. You immediately begin to tug at his locks, loving the way it feels between your fingers. 

He speeds up his pace. The sharp sting radiating through you, mixed with the sensation of his centre grinding against your own. His movements cause a crippling to all of your senses and creates an unbearable, but familiar, throb in the pit of your belly.

Jaemin is a mess of pants and grunts on top of you, mixed with the low moans that rumble inside of him when he circles his hips harder against you.

"I'd drag this out all night if I could, but my cock is aching for you," he grits through his teeth, snapping his hips against you one last time before pulling away.

He wets his lips, darting his eyes to yours before snapping his mouth from your neck to lean down and press an affectionate kiss against you. Both of you are inhaling sharply into the kiss when you feel him hit his cock in the deepest places, collecting the arousal there.

Your parted lips hover against each other, shallow breaths mixing together as he pulls out of you, and you whine. He starts slowly circling around your entrance like he's teasing himself as well as you. 

You gasp, when he inches forward again, going at a tortuously slow place. He had you so slick with excitement as always there's no resistance at all.  

His eyes squeeze closed as his jaw goes slack, letting out the most erotic moans. You can feel your muscles stretching out to accommodate him and it feels euphoric.

You wrap your legs around him tighter, needing to be closer, as he continues to draw his hips back and forth in fast powerful strokes, switching between kissing you harshly and whispering dirty nothings into the air between you.

You grip your fingers tighter on his hair, moving your lips to go to his neck, kissing and sucking on the skin, feeling his pulse thump harder as you do.

He hisses, clenching his teeth as his hand takes hold of your hip, digging his fingers in while his hips jolt forward, "Shit, if you keep doing that I'm not going to last.”

How needy and desperate he sounds spurs a fire in you, moaning against his skin as you push your hips back against him.

“Then don't last, I won't either, I just need you.”

You nip and suck at the heated skin on his neck, swirling your hips against him to spur him on, and he lets out a frustrated growl before he angles your hips up and draws back, snapping forward roughly. It makes your head roll back as you arch into him when he repeats the action again.

"Is this what you needed baby?" he grits, his jaw tenses as he thrusts into you abruptly.  "Wanted me to fuck into you harder? Wanted someone to fuck you properly? Wanted me to show you just how much better you feel clenched around me?"

You can't answer, only managing to gasp out short, strained moans in rhythm with his thrusts as he drives into you in sharp, deliberate motions, filling and hitting all of the places inside you that only he can.

The noises leaving Jaemin are borderline animalistic, the guttural and hoarse sound, vibrating through your whole body as he starts to fuck into you at a relentless pace.

You can feel yourself tightening and clenching around him, muscles pulling him in with each thrust as he knocks against all the right places that were already aching for him, urging you further into your orgasm.

"Shit- Jaemin, I think I'm gonna co-"

You're cut off once again, but not by Jaemin, by the sound of your front door opening. 

"Babe, are you home?"

[like-supercute]

double dose | njm + lmk

plug!fwb!jaemin x f!reader x plug!fwb!mark

summary: maybe sleeping with one plug when you might be in love with your other wasn’t your best idea. you think you love jaemin, but you know you love fucking mark. you might have bitten off more than you can chew dealing with both, especially when they find out.

wc: 8.4k

warnings under the cut! 18+ mdni

cw: smut, angst, fluff, pwp, 3some (no mxm), jealous!switchy!jaemin + instigator!dom!mark, non-idol!au, weed use, high sex, explicit protected/unprotected pinv sex, multiple sex scenes, oral (giving/receiving), fingering, spitting, voyeurism, rough sex, overstim, shotgunning, choking, some slapping, mating press, nipple play, squirting, dirty talk, one-sided?pining, degradation, possessiveness, names: sunshine, baby, pretty girl, slut

you’re breathing hard, seeing stars, and feeling him everywhere. your eyes flutter up at the man above you, his hooded red eyes locked on yours, lips pulled into his familiar dopey grin as his hips meet yours over and over.

nights with jaemin always go like this. smoke sessions turn into more, and high thoughts come to life.

“fuck baby, feels so fucking good,” jaemin drawls out, leaning down to meet your lips in a deep, sloppy kiss. he groans as you clench around him, your eyes shutting tightly as you reach your peak. you’re not quite sure how long you’ve been at it, feeling like it was ages ago that you lit up the first joint of the night.

“give it to nana, c’mon, angel,” he murmurs, readjusting to plant his hold on your hips, eyes moving down to focus on the way you take him in. “pussy was made for me, so fucking perfect, you’re so pretty. and only for me,” his voice and speed pick up, fingers digging into your hips.

“right?” he breaks from his trance to look back at your face, wanting to hear your answer.

you can’t even register what he’s saying anymore, each thrust reaching so deep into you. you can only chant his name and choruses of “yes, yes, yes.”

the pressure built in your stomach snaps, and you feel your composure crumble, cumming around him with a loud shriek, walls pulsing around him.

“f-fuck,” he hisses, hips stuttering as he moves down, intending to meet your lips once more.

with the last bit of your strength, however, you pull yourself to his chest, avoiding his lips by burying your face his neck as you ride out your high.

he seems to pay no mind, now unable to hold back, gritting his teeth as he anchors his arms around you tightly, finally spilling into the condom. his hips continue to move, and after he’s ridden out his own climax, he collapses with you into the bed.

the feeling of being wrapped in his arms lying in the fluffy comforters of his bed is the perfect recipe for a come down, and you feel yourself start to drift to sleep. your eyes close, and you hear jaemin’s low voice, snuggling into you as he peppers kisses on your cheek.

“did so good for me, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs between kisses, and you hum before sleep envelops you completely.

you wake up the following morning, groggy with your high from the night before lingering just slightly. you’re in one of jaemin’s hoodies, and can’t bring yourself to get out of bed yet.

you hear a faint humming from the kitchen, and you can picture it all so vividly.

mornings with jaemin always go like this. waking up cleaned up and to him cooking in his cat apron and boxers, fluffy pancakes laid in front of you as he spoils you rotten.

you let out a sigh, pushing yourself from his pillowy sheets to get up and gather your clothes. as tempting as it is, you’ve decided to do your best to stop falling into this routine you’ve built.

jaemin is your main plug, and you’ve known him for a good while now. he’s always been attractive to you, and he’s never hid his own interest, either. nothing crazy ever happened until you showed up one day having left your wallet at your apartment. he offered another way to pay, and you haven’t spent a dime on weed since.

he’s always so sweet, sweeter than the pancakes he makes the mornings after blowing your back out, but too sweet for someone who you could only label as a fuck buddy. he’s sweet, but never serious.

in the most, and maybe only, serious conversation you’ve had with him, jaemin made it very clear when you started sleeping together that there were no strings attached. he just wasn’t in the right place for a relationship and you agreed back then.

but a no-sleepover rule turned into weekly sleepovers and more, and not seeing each other aside from hook ups and smoke sessions turned into grocery stops and even meeting some of each other’s friends.

yet you didn’t dare bring up the dreaded “what are we?” conversation in fear he’d call it off completely, his deeply unserious nature making it feel like he could slip from your hands at any moment.

as time passed, deep down, you know you may have developed feelings for him— he’s made it hard not to with the way he treats you, but you aren’t sure if you’re the only recipient of his sweetness, and that chips away at you.

you change back into your clothes and exit his room with your stuff.

“good morning, sunshine!” jaemin greets once he catches sight of you. he raises an eyebrow, confused that you look like you’re ready to go.

“i came up with a new whipped cream recipe, i put it on the side in case you don’t like it,” he explains, two dishes set up on his dining room table.

“oh, and i have someone coming over tonight, but you can take your time,” he comments nonchalantly. you fight the urge to ask who, but you build your resolve to enforce the distance.

“i actually have to head out. i’ve got a few errands to run,” you smile as best you can, but jaemin frowns.

“errands? do you need me to go with y—”

“no—i’m okay. thanks, though,” you interrupt, trying your best not to meet his eyes. “and sorry you went through the trouble,” you add, motioning to his pancakes.

he’s quiet for a second, undoubtedly trying to read you, but he moves wordlessly and grabs one of the plates, turning to his kitchen.

“don’t apologize. here, at least take this to go,” he insists, and before you can even object, he’s whisked a set of pancakes and cream into a container, wrapping it up in a bag before giving it to you.

“let me know how you like the cream, i’m experimenting.” he smiles gently, but it’s hard to meet his with your own.

“i will, thank you, jaemin.” the way you say his name is far too cold, but neither of you address it.

he walks you to the door and gives you a quick peck, another regular occurrence you know is far too intimate for a supposed friends with benefits situation. you can’t help but wonder—can he even treat someone else like this?

are you his only one? a voice in your head tells you no.

you say your goodbyes and head out the door, walking briskly down the hall. you enter the elevator and lean back against its walls once the doors close, letting out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

a familiar ringtone interrupts your thoughts, and you pull out your phone to see a message from a contact you haven’t seen in a while.

as much as you want him to be, jaemin isn’t the only one for you, either.

m: wyd tn?

it’s a simple text, but you know exactly what it implies. you think for a bit before responding, taking your time on your walk back home. you could use a distraction, and you know the person on the other side of this message could be just that.

you: mmm maybe getting smoked out?

m: beat me to it

m: come over, got smth new for you to try

you never thought you’d be hopping from one plug’s house almost directly to another, but after devouring the pancakes jaemin made and a long nap at your own place, you find yourself faced with a grinning mark lee.

you had met him through a mutual friend when you ran out of weed while jaemin was out of town, and you were absolutely floored at how attractive he was.

he offered to smoke you out the first time you met him, and it was only a matter of time before you ended up in his bed. smoke and sex—that’s all there was to this connection. when mark said no strings attached, he meant it.

that’s what you like about him.

you don’t see him often, but when you do, it’s always a good time. you take your usual spot on his bed, and he pulls out one of his many pipes and a small glass jar.

“here, smell this,” he holds up the opened jar to you, and you get a whiff of the pungent buds. “good? it’s a new hybrid i picked up. might start selling.”

it doesn’t smell much different from what you’re used to, but flower before it burns is always pleasant to you. he gets to grinding and packing right away, and a comfortable silence settles between you two as he takes the first hit.

he offers you the pipe and lighter, and you carefully relight the ground leaves, breathing in the smoke. after quite a few, you’re on cloud 9, and mark seems to be on the same boat.

the tension you were feeling has dissipated noticeably, and you can’t help but feel that this was the right decision for you. you needed to be out of the house, or you’d be running right back to jaemin’s.

jaemin.

jaemin who has someone else at his place right now, maybe doing everything he does with you.

jaemin who was in mark’s position not too long ago.

you try to rid your thoughts of his face, his name, his voice, him.

as if he can read your mind, mark motions for you to scoot closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. “one more?” he asks, and you nod.

with a rough hand on your lower back, he guides you to straddle him, seating you over him as he grabs his pipe. he takes a long pull, setting it to the side before his hands snake back to your waist.

you lean down to him, lips hovering over his before one hand comes to the back of your neck. he blows the smoke into your waiting mouth before melding your lips together.

you start to grind your hips into his, and all you can think about is how good it all feels, finally registering just how high you are. you never realize it until you get that wave of lightness in your head and body, having lost track of how many hits you took while lost in thought.

your brain is mush, and you can’t stay focused. part of you is glad you can’t think right now, honed in on the way mark’s hands and lips roam all over and in you, clothes tossed carelessly from the bed.

one thing you’ve come to know is that while sex with jaemin borders love-making, mark fucks.

and fucked is exactly how you find yourself, mark pressing your head into his pillows, ass up as he slams into you from behind. his hands shift to a bruising grip on your hips, pushing down so that your back stays arched just how he likes it.

“f-fuck.. fuck, that’s it.” strings of curses and groans leave his mouth at the feeling of you wrapped around him, his own mind void of anything but your plush walls, drool threatening to drip from his mouth at the addicting feeling as he hits you over and over in that spot that makes you squeal.

“how’s this pussy so tight? fuck, fuck, sucking me in like crazy..” mark’s a talker, and it’s always nasty. never the heart wrenching sweet nothings that jaemin has for you.

you’re pulled from your daze, realizing your other plug has been on your mind the entire time, despite this being a supposed distraction. with your eyes shut tightly, your mind drifts, and you start to picture his pretty smile, his voice in your ear, the way jaemin feels wrapped in your innermost walls.

in the process, you unconsciously clench around mark, at which he hisses.

his hips pick up the pace, speed bruising as his pelvis meets you from behind, a hand coming down to grab a fistful of your ass. he squeezes hard, rubbing over its expanse. teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, he admires the smooth skin before slapping it, hard.

you yelp in surprise at the sharp sting as you’re brought back to the man inside of you.

the sensation has you clenching even tighter around him, and he chuckles darkly at that “baby likes that? know you like it rough, the way i fuck this cunt.”

you’re lightheaded from the lack of air, the stinging, and the way he pounds you deeper and deeper into his sheets. he slaps your ass another time, and again, your cries and pulsing increasing at each one.

you do like it. in fact you think you love it—the way pain always melts into pleasure with mark. you don’t even feel yourself push your body back in his hands, wanting to feel more.

you can’t see him, but his eyes take in your wiggling hips, glued to the way his cock moves in and out of you, addicted to the way broken moans leave you at each stroke. he lifts a leg, planting his foot into the bed, fucking into you even harder in this new position at a spot that has you seeing stars.

you can only wail into his sheets, tears and drool soaking his pillows, feeling your stomach start to tighten. your muffled cries get louder and louder, and mark knows your body well enough to know you’re close.

“yeah— just like that. c’mon, cum on this dick baby, cum for me. milk me dry, pretty..” it’s all too much, and his words and last few thrusts have your eyes rolling back. in a flash, you’re cumming with a loud shriek as your body releases all of its energy, crying as mark pounds you through it.

he’s quick to follow, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he pushes his way through your walls gripping down on him. a deep groan bursts from his chest as his hips stutter, and he pulls out quickly and jerks himself furiously over your ass, admiring the way his release paints your skin.

his hold on you releases and your hips fall, strength completely gone from your body. the fatigue and weed coursing through your veins threaten to glue you to his sheets for the night.

mark rolls over beside you, eyes closed as he murmurs something along the lines of “so fucking good.” almost immediately he descends into soft snores, tangling up in his sheets.

you don’t usually stay over, just staying in bed until you’re ready to go. mark has always offered as a courtesy, but you know it’s better this way. but his offer is tempting in this moment, your body feeling so heavy with this new strain you smoked and his work on you.

one night couldn’t hurt. you give into your brain fog and find yourself drifting to sleep, but a buzzing from your phone on mark’s bedside table alerts you.

you’re almost too tired to answer, but you reach for the device anyways.

immediately, you regret checking it, your screen glaring only to display the very person you’ve been trying to get out of your head. what happened to having someone over?

you internally debate answering it, especially since mark’s knocked out next to you. but once again your judgement is clouded by your overstimulated mind.

you tap the green answer button.

“hi there, beautiful,” his voice rings through the speaker into your ear, and oh, how the sound of his voice sends chills through your entire being.

“hi..” you reply sluggishly.

“sleepy? i know you just left, but i was gonna ask if you’d come over.” his voice also sounds a bit tired, but there’s humor to his tone. you want to ask what happened to his company, but you hold back.

“mhm, smoked a bit and heading to sleep soon,” you reply, hoping it’ll end at that. you’d say you regret coming to mark’s first, but again you don’t know what, or who, jaemin was doing tonight. and with the way you know your legs will be wobbling in the morning, there’s nothing to regret.

“oh? what was on the menu?” he asks, interest piqued of course at the mention of weed.

“something new...” you yawn out, but you’re met with silence on the other line. something immediately feels off. “jaemin?”

“new? i don’t remember stocking anything new recently.. you know you don’t need to buy overpriced shit somewhere else, just let me know what you want and i’ll find it.” he chides. his voice is playful, but with a serious undertone, and you quickly realize your mistake.

“um—” warm arms slither around your waist before you can respond, and you feel hot breath fan over your ear, giving you goosebumps.

“sorry pretty, can you keep it down a bit? been a long day today..” mark murmurs into your ear, voice deep and hoarse. in a second he’s back to his soft snoring, now wrapped around you as if nothing happened.

there’s no doubt in your mind that jaemin heard that. the silence following that is so heavy, and your mind races as you try to think of how to follow up.

“who was that?” jaemin’s voice finally comes through the phone, devoid of any emotion. you’ve never heard his voice like this, and you genuinely can’t think of anything to say.

“um—sorry jaemin, gotta go. goodnight,” you reply in a rush, cutting off any further conversation with an abrupt end to the call.

mark groans as you unwrap yourself from his arms, redressing as quickly as you can, limbs a bit uncoordinated with the high still running through you and the effects of mark blowing your back out.

you call a cab home, and only once you’re finally in the comfort of your own bed do you allow yourself to fully process what just happened.

it’s not like you were doing anything wrong, so why did it feel that way? jaemin had no obligation to know who else you spent time with, just as you had none for him.

you just never thought of the possibility of the two plugs crossing paths in any way.

regardless, it shouldn’t be a big deal. yet the feeling in your gut remains, and you know why, even if you won’t admit it.

your heart sinks, scared at what jaemin’s reaction might be. scared that he’ll care, confusing you even further, or worse, that he won’t care.

either way, you don’t know if you could take it.

you haven’t heard from jaemin in two weeks. he didn’t contact you after you hung up on him like you thought he would, and when you finally mustered up the courage to reach out to him, you were left unanswered.

it doesn’t help that mark is out of town for a little while, too, mentioning a trip with some of his close friends. it’s just the cherry on top of your frustration, and you only reach out once, not wanting to put yourself in a position to be rejected again.

you know it can’t be helped, but you really are going through it.

when it reaches week 3 without seeing either of your plugs, you conclude this is good for you. it’s a solid time to reflect—no confusion, no distraction, just you and your thoughts.

you even took a break from smoking for a bit. you found that you’d spiral thinking about your predicament everytime you were high, so you decided it was time for a tolerance break anyway. with a clearer mind, you come to a conclusion.

you can’t deny it—you have feelings for jaemin that run deeper than they seem, and you need to bring an end to the ambiguity of your relationship.

yes, mark blows your mind every time you’re in his bed, but it’s not like jaemin necessarily lacks in any way in that department, either. he has potential. you’ll miss it, but you probably could live without fucking mark.

you’d go back to him for one more taste to see if you actually believe that, but you’re trying to stop complicating things for yourself.

if it turns out that it’s not in the cards with jaemin, as sad as you’ll be, at least you can get that closure to move on and you can hit up mark without that funky feeling in your gut.

just as you resolve to contact the object of your affections, message partially typed out on your phone, a buzzing of your phone startles you.

he has impeccable timing as always, jaemin’s name reading clearly on your screen. you take a deep breath, calming yourself best as you can.

“hello?”

“hi angel,” his voice is just as sweet as you remember, and some stress leaves your body at that. half of you feared he’d be as stoic as he was the last time you had spoken. “it’s been a while, how are you?”

you have so many questions for him—where he’s been the past few weeks, why he never responded to your message, why he’s acting normal. yet you don’t ask any of that, nor do you answer his question.

“can i come see you?” is what instead leaves you.

“i was about to ask the same thing,” he responds, voice just a bit more serious. “come over?”

the entire commute to his place, you resolve your mind to be honest with jaemin, even if it means things won’t be the same. you need that clarity.

he meets you at the door as he always does, and the second his door opens, the faint smell of weed hits your nose. you haven’t smoked with him in a while, and you feel a bit of sadness rise at that.

jaemin is pleasant, but he initiates no physical contact—a stark contrast to his usual clingy self. that’s a good thing for you in this moment, but you can’t help but crave his touch. there’s a slight tension you sense behind his usual smile, and you brace yourself for the conversation to come.

nothing could have prepared you for the sight before you when you walk into his living room.

“hey there, pretty girl.”

everything in you screams that this has to be a dream, but your blood runs cold at the very real mark lee sitting on jaemin’s couch, leaned back comfortably with a calm smirk on his face. he has a blunt in one hand and his other waves its fingers at you in greeting. “surprised?”

to say you’re dumbfounded is an understatement, and when you open your mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

you look between mark and jaemin, who also has a calm expression on his face. “i heard you knew my buddy here.” he moves to sit down next to mark, patting the space between them. “take a seat?”

you haven’t had a single bit of weed in at least a week, but this whole thing feels like a fever dream you’d have on a bad trip. your feet stay planted where you are and you shake your head. jaemin shakes his head too and gets back up, leading you by the waist to guide you between them.

“h-how do you two know each other?” you finally ask. all conversation plans you had in your head were tossed out the window the second you saw mark.

he speaks up first, offering the blunt up to your lips. “relax, pretty, you’re not in trouble.” your eyes move from him to the blunt, and he nods assuringly. you let him hold it for you as you take a decent drag from it. you need something to calm you down.

mark takes one last hit as well before passing it over you to jaemin, who puts it out after taking a couple on his own.

“remember how i said i was on a trip with some close friends?” your heart sinks. there’s no way. “jaem here is one of ‘em. got him into dealing and everything, too.” jaemin nods in agreement.

“known this guy for years, and we’ve always had a lot in common, even among all of our other friends,” jaemin explains, sliding a hand from your knee up to your thigh, squeezing lightly. “didn’t think we’d have you, too.”

he looks into your eyes, calling your name softly with an unwavering gaze. “be honest. is mark the only other one?”

his expression is so serious, and when you nod yes, jaemin leans down to plant a deep kiss on your lips. the kiss is tender as always, but his hand on the back of your neck presses you into him even more. he finally pulls back, face set in determination.

“good, because after this you’re all mine,” he declares, no hint of a joke in his voice. your mouth drops, and you can’t help but be confused.

“what?”

jaemin is dead serious, but mark laughs. “he came to me with his love issues on the trip and imagine my surprise when we found out we were both seeing you?” mark chuckles as he tries to explain, recalling how it all went down.

“he was mad as fuuuck, i've never seen the guy so heated,” mark teases, and jaemin shoots him a glare. “but he chilled out when i asked if you guys were exclusive or anything.” a heavy sigh sounds beside you at that last part.

“and that’s where i went wrong in all of this..” jaemin grimaces, and looking at his upset expression, you’re still confused as to what exactly is going on.

is it all actually working out, just in a way you hadn’t expected? you need answers.

“jaem, weren’t you all about no relationships? it was all casual, right?” you question, and he interlaces his fingers with yours, eyebrows furrowed and a tiny pout on his lips.

“i’m sorry, baby. i should’ve said something sooner. i thought i was starting to get it across with my actions, but i should’ve been clear.. i do have feelings for you.” he brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly.

“after this, i’m gonna make you mine. i’ll let mark have you one more time, but after— no more games, i’m serious.” disbelief runs through you at his words, and you glance back at mark. he simply shrugs.

“i mean, my door’s open in case you wanna ditch this guy, still no strings attached. it’s all up to you.” you’re glad more than ever that things were only ever complicated with jaemin; mark’s always made it easy for you.

your heart soars as you now process that jaemin does feel the same way as you do. while you’re a bit upset at him for not telling you sooner, it all works out.

yeah, you’re in love with jaemin, but you also love the way mark fucks you. you couldn’t have discovered that if you were with jaemin earlier.

now that the confusion is gone, arousal and excitement hit you—everything you want is falling into your lap. you get to have the two of them together, and after all of this jaemin is your lover?

sure you told yourself you could give up mark, but the universe is giving you one last taste and you could not be more grateful. it’s been a while since you’ve been short of a dick appointment, squeezing your thighs together subconsciously from the past 3 weeks of deprivation.

“ohohhh, someone’s feeling it,” hands slide around your waist, mark turning fully to you. he pulls your back into his chest, and his hands start to ride your shirt up, mouth coming down to your ear and neck.

“gonna miss this pussy so bad, but hey, at least i get a goodbye present, right?” you can feel mark’s hot breath as he chuckles.

jaemin rolls his eyes, but comes to join you, squeezing in between your legs to meld his mouth with yours. he kisses you fiercely, with more passion than you ever think he has before, pushing you harder into mark’s chest.

mark’s hands slip under your shirt completely and push up your bra, bringing his fingers up to your tits, tracing lightly over your nipples in a way that has you shuddering in his hold. he pinches your nipples suddenly, making you yelp into jaemin’s mouth.

jaemin pulls back, frowning at the man behind you. “be gentle, dude.” mark raises an eyebrow at him.

“you know this one can take it, right?” mark snickers, grabbing the bottom of your shirt to pull it and your bra off of you.

he continues his actions on your chest pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. your yelps turn into moans at the way he hold tightens just a bit harder than usual.

jaemin just tsk’s at him, moving instead to kiss down your neck and chest, traveling down to lay open mouthed kisses on your exposed stomach. he backs up a bit, hooking his fingers through your waistband to drag your shorts and underwear off.

he tosses them to the side, settling back between your legs. his hands come down to your core, one hand spreading your lips as he runs his fingers through your folds.

his thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into it, your legs starting to tremble ever so slightly at the stimulation. he keeps your legs spread, and you wiggle your hips into his wandering fingers. jaemin likes to take his time, and it always feels good, but you crave more.

jaemin moves down, suckling into your thighs as he pushes them up to gain access to your waiting pussy. when his mouth finally meets your core, you moan out, feeling his tongue explore your folds, drawing figure 8’s into your clit with his slick muscle. your hips continue to squirm unconsciously, and mark lets out a quiet chuckle at the sight.

“y’know your angel’s gonna come running back to my door if that’s all you can do.” jaemin’s movements pause at the challenge, his fingers digging your thighs tighter. he makes eye contact with mark, but instead of getting mad like you think he will, he meets mark’s smirk with his own.

“why don’t you show me how it’s done, then?” his proposition stirs feelings in your stomach, and mark obliges immediately, the two men tugging you up to your feet to make your way to jaemin’s bedroom.

you’ve been in his room many times before, but the pure lust radiating off of your companions has everything feeling so new. both men strip themselves of their own clothes. “jaem, go sit on the bed,” mark instructs, and to your surpise, jaemin sits on his bed against his headboard with no rebuttal.

“suck his dick, pretty girl.” you take in this dominant side of mark, even more commanding and in control than when its just the two of you. and you like it. “you love him, don’t you? don’t you want your nana to feel good?”

jaemin’s cock stands tall and heavy in his hand, stroking up and down expectantly as he waits for you. mark’s right, you do want him to feel good, and as if in a trance, you follow mark’s words, settling between jaemin’s legs. you lean down taking his member into your into your hands, stroking at him lightly.

you let out a drop of spit onto jaemin’s tip, and he swears its the hottest thing he’s ever seen. you take him into your mouth as far in as you can stroking what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hands. mark watches with a darkening glare.

“you can do better than that and you know it,” mark’s voice resonates behind you, and without a second to spare a rough hand pushes you down further on jaemin’s cock. you gag as it hits the back of your throat. “take him like the champ you are, baby.”

“f-fuck!” jaemin reacts with a choked groan, too turned on by the way your throat constricts around his head, the way you just take him. mark grabs one of jaemin’s hands, placing it on top of your head, encouraging him to guide you as your head bobs up and down.

“you take this, and i’ll show you how you how this cunt likes to be eaten.” jaemin swallows, only being able to nod as you continue your work on him with his hands now guiding you. satisfied at his lessons, mark moves back, moving your hips up to expose your glistening core. he licks his lips, making eye contact with jaemin one last time before diving into your folds.

you cry out, mouth separating from jaemin as mark eats you out like a mad man, mouthing at your pussy, tongue dipping into your entrance as he rubs at your clit harshly. even if jaemin can’t see exactly what’s happening from his side, the effect is apparent, your head falling to his lap as your legs tremble from the pleasure.

to see you so fucked out on another man’s tongue awakens something in him.

he feels a rush in his head, heat rising to the back of his neck. his hands go back to your head, grip firm, guiding you back to his member.

you look up at him with teary eyes as you open your mouth back up, tongue ghosting over his head as you try to stay focused with mark eating you out like he’s starved.

jaemin pushes your mouth back down on his cock, and you take him inch by inch, a mix of gagging noises and moans leaving you as you try and breathe through your nose. his hips start to move in turn with his pushes, his member hitting your throat even harder.

mark lets out a delighted noise at that, separating his mouth for a second as he starts to finger at your entrance. “someone’s getting the hang of it,” he teases another finger, feeling each knuckle of his long digits slide in alongside the other. “just clenched around my tongue like fucking crazy. told ya.”

jaemin just nods, not wanting to acknowledge how mark knows a side of your body and tastes that he doesn’t. his eyes stay trained on you—even if he doesn’t know, he’ll just have to learn.

you, on the other hand, are just basking in the stimulation, feeling your stomach tighten as mark’s tongue returns to your hole, his fingers rubbing harsher into your clit at this point.

the feeling of mark’s mouth on you, and jaemin in your mouth is far too much for you, but you love it. mark’s fingers stop rubbing your clit, instead slapping in time with his mouth.

the sting has you cumming hard, sputtering over jaemin’s cock as he still holds your head in his hands. mark’s tongue doesn’t leave you, continuing to eat you with fervor, your trembling legs starting to go numb from the pleasure. you continue to let jaemin use your mouth, breathing as best you can.

it doesn’t take long for mark to bring you to your peak again, nerves flared and tears starting to fall from your eyes. jaemin swipes at your tears, shuddering at the sight.

“let go.”

his head snaps up to mark, confused and irritated at the interruption. “what?”

“we're gonna fuck, and you’re gonna watch,” mark states bluntly.

jaemin purses his lips together, his hold on you slackening as his cock slips out of your mouth. you take in as much air as you can, heaving as you catch your breath from the back to back orgasms.

jaemin should be fuming at the way mark is bossing him around like some little bitch. should be irritated that he’s not even letting you finish him off. should be pissed that mark’s staking a claim like you’re his.

but he’s not angry, not one bit, his cock only swelling even more.

his breath catches, and he can’t even formulate a sentence in return, only nodding.

mark yanks your slumped form up by the hips, settling behind you to slap his neglected cock on your ass, dragging his head up and down your dripping slit.

jaemin just watches, swallowing the lump in his throat, baited breath as mark grins.

“this is how you do it.”

before he even finishes his sentence, he enters you in one fell swoop, bottoming out to the hilt. your head shoots up, crying out as he draws his hips back, pounding back deeply once, then again, building up speed as he grips your hips hard enough to leave reminders for days to come.

“sh-shit, your baby likes it rough, y’know?” he draws you up against him, your back meeting his chest as he continues his bruising pace, wrapping one hand around your abdomen.

“someone’s gotta fuck you how you like if i’m not around.” his other hand trails up and around your neck, pressing his fingers into the sides of it lightly. “right, pretty girl?”

your mind doesn’t even register that mark’s talking to you, going slightly lightheaded from his fingers around your throat and cock ravaging you. his fingers tighten slightly as his lips meet your ear. “right?” you pulse around him, tears running down your face and his hand.

he knows you’re not going to respond, eyes moving back up to his forgotten friend. only jaemin can’t meet his eyes, his pupils dilated and trained on the tears running down your face, your fucked out expression—the way mark just uses you.

in the time he’s known you, jaemin’s never wanted to make you sad, never wanted to treat you like you were less than. he always kept things lighthearted, nothing ever serious enough to bring you to tears.

but in this moment, he understands— you’re just as beautiful wrecked, and you want to be.

you take in air as mark releases your throat, only to shove his fingers into your dripping mouth. “take it, baby, take it for me,” the power in his thrusts hasn’t faltered in the slightest, hips pounding with the intent to make it hurt, cock rutting into your deepest parts. “and keep your eyes on your lover boy over there.”

your eyes come into focus on the man in front of you, taking in the sight of him. his teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them before as he grips his cock, red and angry wrapped in his veiny hand. his gaze is locked on yours, and you just know the jaemin you’ll be getting after mark is done is gonna be one you’ve never met before.

mark feels you tightening around him, pulsing and squeezing, knowing that you’re getting closer and closer. he’s feeling it a bit more than usual with an audience, and he knows that he’s not going to last long either.

“y-yeah, fuck, cum for me like the little slut you are—” the second it leaves his mouth, you feel a rush all at once before everything snaps, falling apart on his cock and biting down on his fingers. “and keep those fucking—” his hips punctuate each word, “—eyes. on. him.”

he continues to fuck into you through it, chasing his own high through your walls gripping down on him. “gonna fill this pussy up, fill it ‘til its fucking full.”

his thrusts grow shallower until his hips finally stutter, ropes coating your walls. he opens his mouth just as he hits his peak, biting down on your shoulder with a groan that rips through his chest.

he’s never marked you nor cum inside before, but the combination of the warmth and pain shoots through you, sending chills that could set you off all over again.

mark’s hips finally still, and he releases his grip on you, allowing you to fall forward. he pulls out admiring the way his cum drips from your entrance. he lifts his head up to address his silent friend, cocking his head to the side. “think you can do it?”

“fuck you.”

filled with a burning in his chest he’s never quite felt before, jaemin shoots up, pushing mark aside and flipping you onto your back. his eyes rake over you as he moves between your legs, stopping at your spent, swollen pussy dripping with mark’s cum. for the first time since you entered his bed, he addresses you.

“messy fucking girl,” he mumbles lowly, but it still reaches your ears, and you clench around nothing, more of mark’s cum spilling out of you. he slaps his member on top of your slit, coating his head in your mixture of juices. you gasp as he slides right in all at once with no warning, just as mark did earlier.

remembering the sight he sat through painfully, he draws his hips out, hitting into you deeply, harder than mark started, wanting to remind you that he’s more than capable of giving you what you want, too.

“one dick wasn’t good enough for you?” with a tightening grip, he lifts your hips up, using his strength to move you back and forth to meet his harsh thrusts. “had to go fucking running to the next best guy like a fucking slut?” he feels the way you clench around him at that, testing the waters after seeing how mark’s words affected you.

“wanna act like one? i’ll treat you like one,” he growls, dropping your hips to the bed and pushing your legs up by the back of your knees. he lifts himself up over you to slam himself into you, and in this new position, he reaches further than he ever has, than mark ever has, than anyone ever has.

“open up, baby.” you comply immediately, and he lowers his head slightly, letting a fat wad of saliva land on your tongue. “swallow.”

you do just that, throat sore from both your never ending cries and activities of the night. every nerve in your body flares with overstimulation, but you love it. it’s everything you want and more, and all you can do is lie there and take it as jaemin pounds into you so hard you’re seeing stars.

“shit,” you hear from beside you, and you barely are able to turn your head, seeing mark furiously tugging at his own cock, rejuvenated at the sight before him. jaemin looks over at him, too, again filled with the burning sensation at mark’s presence. he grits his teeth, directing his attention back to you.

“you should’ve just asked, baby, then we could’ve avoided all of this..” he scolds, nails digging into your calves. “but no, had to, fuck—run off to one of my best friends,” he sneers, and his ridicule hits you right in the stomach.

“i d-didn’t know!”

he just shakes his head. “i know, but listen carefully, okay, baby?” the tender jaemin you’re used to peeks out, but in a second he’s gone, holding your gaze as he says each word with emphasis. he slows his thrusts down to a torturous pace, and you do your best to listen.

“i’m the one you love and i’m the one who loves you. mark can fuck you all he wants, but at the end of the day, you’re mine.” you cling onto every word that leaves his mouth, nodding desperately, heart lurching at his claim over you.

“yes, jaemin, yes, yes— i’m yours, i’m yours, jaemin,” you cry, genuinely meaning it. you are his, and you always have been, and now that you know he actually wants you to be, you can let it all go. his hips pick back up, pistoning into you, and a familiar feeling in your stomach starts to stir.

you pulse nonstop around him, feeling your vision going hazy, jaemin pressing himself as deeply as he can into you, hitting you over and over again in a spot that has you screaming. your cries get louder and higher, an intense pressure building up in your gut.

“w-wait, wait jaem—!” you plea, voice desperate. they fall on deaf ears, and the pressure explodes, forcing jaemin from your core, juices coating his pelvis and abdomen.

“fuck!” the sensation and sight is almost too much for jaemin to continue, hissing as he forces his way back into your walls, thrusting and rubbing your clit furiously to bring you both to your climax.

you’re sobbing and seeing white as you’re brought to and through it, and with a broken groan, he cums, fluids spilling into your already weeping hole.

he sits back, allowing your body to finally rest from its bent position, the two of you gasping for air. jaemin, still connected to you, leans down to kiss you roughly, your tired bodies melting back together, mouths eventually slowing, yet still moving over each other’s like magnets despite both of your lack of air.

you’re interrupted by the sound of a lighter flicking, and jaemin finally pulls out and separates from you to look back at his forgotten friend. ��dude, what the fuck?”

mark has his underwear back on, sitting on a beanbag in the corner of jaemin’s room with one of his bongs in hand, lighter flicking at the bowl. mark proceeds to take a rip from the bong, taking in a heavy drag of smoke before blowing it out, the smell of weed creeping back into the room.

“want some?” he asks, clueless grin back on his face. jaemin thinks he can’t be serious, but after what you just experienced? a hit could fix everything.

“i do,” you mumble out, jaemin’s head snapping back to you. he looks at you with the same incredulous look, thinking there are other things at hand to be addressed. but he’s too tired to think, so he shrugs. why the fuck not?

jaemin slides an oversized shirt on you as mark returns to the bed. he passes you the bong, after which you pass it to jaemin, the 3 of you wordless as you recover from what was the best fucking of your life, and theirs, too, you assume. jaemin grabs some water from a mini fridge in his room, the 3 of you passing that around as well.

you don’t know how much time passes, but you all float higher with each round. it’s mark who breaks the silence, a role he’s seemed to claim over the course of this night.

“i know you guys are together together now, but… what was it?” he stops to remember, mischievous smile on his face. “oh yeah, ‘mark can fuck you all he wants, but at the end of the day, you’re mine,’ is what i recall you saying, mr. na.” he raises his eyebrows in expectation.

jaemin looks at him in almost disbelief at the proposition before recalling that he did say that. and if he’s being honest, he meant it at the time.

in the end, he liked seeing this all go down more than he’d like to acknowledge, and a part of him liked being seen as well.

“don’t act like i didn’t see that fucking look in your eyes while i was balls deep,” mark laughs, seemingly reading his friend’s mind. “i don’t needa be on your dates or some shit like that, but call me if you ever need a repeat of tonight.”

jaemin looks to you to gauge your opinion, and while shy, you explain your thoughts honestly. since you had the choice, why not?

“i do love only you, jaem,” you assure, glancing back at mark. “but tonight was a little too good to not have ever again.” he just shrugs, directing it back to jaemin with a nod of his head.

jaemin hates to admit it, but he agrees. there was something different in the air tonight, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in doing it again. but you’re all way too high and fucked out to talk about it now, and you look like you’re gonna pass out any second.

he pulls you up on your shaky legs, holding you as he guides you out towards his bathroom. “we’ll text you,” jaemin states bluntly.

you beam up at him, and he looks back at you with the tenderness you’ve always known from him, only now you know it’s only yours.

he leans down to kiss you once again, not separating as he pulls you into the bathroom.

mark cleans himself up and gathers his clothes, chuckling to himself as he replays the events of the night in his own mind.

he grins at the sound of skin on skin echoing over the shower spray, tapping his fingers on the bathroom door on his way out.

“i’ll be waiting!”

a/n: if you got this far, thank you so much for reading! i fear this is actually the smuttiest thing i've ever written (i'm usually a tender fluffy love making kinda writer) that markmin live did this to me LOL side note, i feel like usually mark and jaemin's positions would be switched (lover boy vs. playful instigator) but i'm kind of living for this switched dynamic.. also this is completely separate from my other markmin plug!au's :') shout out bae @wispyxjae as always for beta-ing this filth <3

proud of myself for actually getting this done yay for 2 releases in 1 month!!! <3

feedback and shares are always always always appreciated, thank you for the support always!

-coco *\(^o^)/*

[like-supercute]

secret admirer — lee jeno 𝜗𝜚

in which ncu’s star basketball player jeno is your long time secret admirer

part two

diaphamin: i fucking love jaemin guys hello

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