: Sun And Moon | Lhc

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: sun and moon | lhc

summary | your childhood best friend, donghyuck, claims he loves you. given his other friends and who he is as a person, you don’t believe him.

genre | lee haechan x fem!reader, high school seniors! au, childhood best friends to lovers, angst, fluff at the end, hyuck + the rest of 7dream are canonical assholes

warnings | high school parties (i.e. underage drinking)

wc | 6.1k

a/n: got a little carried away w this one, so thanks to the anon who requested it! anywho, i listened to tek it by cafune on repeat while writing this, so if u want a song rec ^^ imagine black haired glimo hc for this one <33 (p.s., if you want to play the game reader describes, this is the link) (p.p.s ignore their high school classes this is fanfic logic)

ft. sungchan, loona’s gowon, le sserafim’s chaewon

IT’S A SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and Donghyuck is laying down on your bed, watching you play whatever stupid video game you were infatuated with now. He didn’t come over often, not since your first year, so there was a slight bit of awkwardness between you two.

Nevertheless, you allow him to lay there, dressed in the tacky cool-guy getup that he seemed to love so much.

Outside, rain poured, and you knew that was the chief reason he was in your bedroom right now. If there wasn’t a flash flood warning, he’d be out and about with Mark Lee, Na Jaemin, and the rest of them, ruining people’s days left and right for the fun of it.

You wanted to consider Donghyuck to be your best friend, still. Given who he was now, the reputation he harbored, and the lack of time spent with one another, you didn’t feel like he was.

“I don’t understand the game,” he said, catching your attention fairly easily. You turned your head, giving him a dirty look for interrupting your flow. “You just look like you’re putting lines and boxes on a screen, but there’s a score.”

“You’re supposed to make paths. You close them off with the little dots,” you mumbled, turning back to your screen. The sound of Donghyuck sliding off your bed and kneel-walking to your side filled your ears but was mostly drowned out by the rain and the sound of the music coming through your speakers.

He stopped his kneel-walk adjacent to you, squinting at the screen. You didn’t slow down or try to explain your moves, simply placing each piece you were given in a way that most made sense.

“I seriously don’t get it. Is there a strategy to this?”

“No.”

“So you just…play for fun?”

“U-huh.”

“Man,” he mumbled, leaning his chin on the edge of your desk. You continued playing, clicking your shapes around into places they most fit, ignoring the way Dongyuck seemed to stare at you, now, rather than the game. “Who’ve you been hanging out with, these days?”

That question struck a chord. Briefly, you remembered the week-and-a-half where you stuck to Donghyuck as he began growing close with his current friends, and how left out you felt through the whole experience. It was, quite possibly, the worst week of your life.

“Sungchan from the grade below, Chaewon, and Gowon,” you replied, wondering if he’d even know who they were. From the way he didn’t respond, you assumed he didn’t, which hurt a little bit. “Uh, Chaewon is—”

“The girl with the short hair. Yeah, Renjun had a bit of a thing for her a while ago,” he cut you off with some unprompted information, which shocked you. If you remembered correctly, Chaewon had a massive crush on him for about a year; the new information made you wonder if he’d pursued her and dropped her the moment he’d found a better target.

“Really? Huh,” you hummed, glancing down at him. You made eye contact for a split second, but you broke it off the moment you realized how intense his stare was.

“So, how do you play this game?”

A small sigh escaped your lips, short in duration yet heavy in weight. You pointed at one of the boxes on the screen, turning to him once again. “You want to put the little circles in the boxes. Using the ‘X’ shapes, parallel lines, and the single lines, you want to connect all the boxes together to make paths. You put the little circles on the end of empty lines, too. You get points depending on how many circles you put in the boxes and how many circled-off paths you make.”

“Yeah, that makes absolutely no sense,” he scoffed. You were glad his attention was on the screen again. A bright flash of light broke through your bedroom windows, followed by a floor-shaking boom shortly thereafter. “You were always smarter than I was.”

“Not a chance. You just never tried hard enough.”

Silence fell between you two, and the only noise in the room turned into soft clicks and the droning of your music. It was nice being able to pretend like he wasn’t there, although you couldn’t help but wonder when you started feeling so…averse towards him. Maybe it was a product of the leftover hurt of his abandonment last year, or maybe it was because of how different his presence was.

When you were little, your mom always called him the sun and you the moon. He was bright and happy, always dressed in vibrant colors and ready to stand up for you whenever anyone did or said anything mean. He loved it when you and your mom took him to the beach, in the same way you loved it when he and his mom took you up into the countryside.

You were opposites as a kid, in the way that you were puzzle pieces that easily fit together. At some point, though, other pieces were added to that puzzle, and you both were torn apart by pieces that just fit better.

“[First]! Donghyuck!” Your mom called, her voice barely comprehensible above the pouring rain and the music. “Dinner!”

You picked up your phone, paused the music, and unplugged your phone from its charger. But, before you could stand up, Donghyuck put a hand on your knee, sending a shiver down your spine. You gave him a look, mentally saying “what the hell?” but he quickly explained himself.

“Can we talk? Just for a second.”

You gave him another look but complied. “One second, Mom!” you yelled, hoping she heard. “Just finishing up a game!”

He pushed himself off the floor, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. You spun around in your desk chair, pulling your knees up to your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek. He cleared his throat as if he was nervous, which would be surprising given his personality.

You never thought you’d see the day when both you and Donghyuck were nervous to talk to each other.

“You don’t hate me or anything, right?”

You wished you knew the answer to that.

“What? No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Why would I hate you? We just grew apart, it’s not the end of the world. It was bound to happen.”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, looking off to the side. There was a pause in his sentence, then he cleared his throat again. “I’m in love with you.”

The whole room seemed to freeze over. You were utterly speechless.

“Pardon?”

“I love you. A lot. Like, love you.”

Letting your mind move faster than your mouth, you replied faster than you would’ve wanted to.

“No, you don’t.”

That seemed to stun him, as his eyes widened and his lips parted ever-so-slightly. You watched as hurt filled his expression, but you couldn’t help but stick with your response. He didn’t move to say anything else, so you stood up, stretching your arms into the air.

“Look, we’re friends and all, but you don’t love me, Hyuck. You can’t love someone when you barely know them.”

Saying that probably hurt you more than it hurt him, but you stood by it nonetheless. “How do I barely know you?” he asked, standing and walking to block your path. “Did I imagine the past fifteen years or something? I practically know everything there is to know about you.”

“I’m not sixteen anymore, dude. We’re practically eighteen. The last time we talked frequently was the end of our first year,” you said, crossing your arms. “If you told me you were in love with me back then, I might’ve believed you. But, as things stand right now, you are not.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he replied, frowning at you. “A year isn’t going to change everything about you, [First]. I knew you were weird about this, but that’s—that’s just ridiculous. Don’t you realize how ridiculous that is?”

“It’s not very ridiculous when I spent three months wondering if we were even friends anymore. You realize it took you three months to even text me back? You ignored me, pretended like I wasn’t there, and now you expect me to think you’re in love with me? Give me a break.”

“Maybe I ignored you because I was trying to get rid of the part of me that was hopelessly in love with you because I didn’t want to destroy the decade and a half of friendship we’ve built. Ever consider that? I bet not because you’re always so goddamn unreasonable with this. God forbid anyone gets too close, huh? God forbid the one person who knows you best get too close.”

“I let you get close, Donghyuck,” you spat, narrowing your eyes. “I put my whole trust into you, my entire life was you. I was nothing if not yours, and then you threw me to the curb the moment you found better people. I’m not upset about that, it was bound to happen, but—”

“But what?”

“But you didn’t even apologize.”

He scoffed at that, crossing his arms. “Oh my god, it’s not like I told you to fuck off and never talk to me again, did I? Back then even looking at you was difficult, but, for the entire three months, my friends—who you so vehemently hate—kept telling me to reach out. I thought that if you disappeared, if I pretended like I never let my feelings go that far, things would go back to normal, but they didn’t. They still haven’t.”

“Why now, then? Why now, after I already decided that our friendship was pretty much over, huh? Why did you wait? Why not after those three months? Why not any time other than now?”

You side-stepped past him, opening the door to your bedroom and approaching the stairwell. You didn’t hear him follow, but you didn’t care to look back or check what he was doing. Instead, you ran downstairs, cringing when your mom’s face turned into one of confusion.

“Where’s Donghyuck, sweetie?”

“He’ll be down in a second,” you said nonchalantly, assuming your normal seat at the dinner table. “He just needed to deal with something quickly.”

-

The summer sun beamed down on you and your friends, and you lamented the lack of clouds, or really anything, blocking the sun. You sometimes wondered why you and your friends had decided to eat lunch at the very corner of the school’s soccer field, but, when the weird time between summer and autumn hit, you were sure to remember.

“It’s so god damn hot,” Sungchan panted, flopping onto the grass. The green seemed to cradle him in a way that made him look a bit majestic, even with your ugly uniforms. Chaewon hummed in agreement, shoveling noodles in her mouth; she, like you, always brought lunch from home.

“Where’s Gowon?” you asked, glancing down at him. He put a hand over his eyes, covering the painful gaze of the sun. “Did you see her in the lunch line?”

“She’s not walking over yet?” Sungchan asked, turning his head towards you. Chaewon waved away a fly that was getting too close to his uncovered lunch, mumbling something about how bugs in the summer were always so terrible. “She wasn’t too far behind me in line. I dunno where she would’ve gone.”

“Hm.”

You scanned the field, looking for any sign of her, but she was nowhere to be found. Chaewon turned her whole torso around to look as well, looking for any sign of her. “She might’ve gotten caught up with somebody. I’ll go check, just to make sure.”

She hopped up from the grass, running in the direction of the building’s doors. You looked at Sungchan, who didn’t move at all. “Dude, P.E. wrecked me today. I can barely feel my legs.”

“You wouldn’t have to take P.E. if you had taken a music course.”

“Oh, shut up, not everybody is as perfect and lovely as you, [First],” he huffed, pushing himself off the grass. You reached out and brushed a blade of grass out of his hair, but he didn’t thank you for the gesture at all. “You’re quiet today. Is everything good?”

No, my childhood best friend, who I didn’t think even liked me as a friend anymore, confessed his love for me, you thought.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. We had a big English test today.”

“Gross,” he replied, finally picking up his tray and beginning to eat. “Man, I can’t imagine having to start preparing for my CSATs. Do you ever go home?”

“I don’t study often. I’m gonna study enough to get into a college and get a degree.” You shrugged, taking a bite out of the fruit sandwich your mom had made you after you woke up incredibly late. Suddenly, in the distance, the doors to the school building burst open, revealing Chaewon, who was dragging Gowon behind her. Gowon barely had a steady handle on her lunch tray, keeping it balanced enough that it wouldn’t spill everywhere as they ran.

“Jesus,” Sungchan muttered, taking a bite of whatever they served for lunch that day.

Gowon and Chaewon made it to you both at record speeds, with Chaewon practically sliding into her previous sitting spot. “Dude,” she began, huffing and puffing from the running she did. Gowon practically crumbled onto the floor, taking three big swigs from her water bottle. “What in the world happened between you and Donghyuck?”

“What?”

“I found Gowon, like, surrounded by his little gang as he talked to her. She looked like she was going to faint, but he pretty clearly asked where you were,” she giggled, reaching out and slapping your shoulder. “So? What is it?”

“He told me he was in love with me yesterday.”

Chaewon practically shrieked with joy, to the point where it almost made you feel bad for the outcome of his stark leap. “And? And?”

“I told him that he didn’t love me and that he doesn’t know me very well anymore.”

Gowon choked on her water, covering her mouth and trying not to spit it all out. Instead, she just coughed to the side, barely able to swallow it all down. Sungchan stared at you in complete shock, and Chaewon’s excited face morphed into a sad and confused one.

“Excuse me?” Gowon breathed out. “You what? You, [First] [Last], known for your compassion and kindness, said what?”

“I mean, he doesn’t love me. He loves who he knew a year ago, when we were still attached at the hip and he still wore that stupid yellow bomber jacket that I bought him in middle school,” you sighed, taking another bite of the sandwich. “I’m not—I’m not the same, you know? I like different things, I do different things, and I hang out with different people. He’s not the same either. It wouldn’t…it just wouldn’t work.”

“Bullshit.” Sungchan laughed dryly, giving you a sour look. “You can’t just say that to someone confessing their love to you, no matter how well you know them. I mean, imagine if you worked up the courage to confess to someone and they immediately invalidated your feelings?”

“It’s not like I don’t know that my approach was bad, but it’s the truth. We just aren’t compatible as we are now.”

“But…but weren’t you two…? I mean don’t you still hang out?” Chaewon asked, frowning.

“When he can’t make it to his other friends, yes. Snow days, the flash flood yesterday, when we had that huge dry lightning storm and the power went out. I’m his backup entertainment, and, even when we do hang out, we usually just watch movies in silence or do our own things.”

“I agree with [First].” Gowon nodded, her voice hoarse from the coughing fit she just escaped. “She has a point. I mean, you guys remember what he was like first year…nothing like he is now, y’know?”

“But it was mean to do that,” Chaewon argued, crossing her arms. “You can’t just say stuff like that. You need to apologize, [First].”

“I’ll apologize when I feel like I need to. For now,” you paused, taking a final bite of your sandwich. “I am not going to talk to him about it.”

“[First], don’t be an asshole,” Sungchan replied.

“Oh, I’m the asshole? Shall I recount when he left me in the dust last year? Or when he forgot my birthday and skipped out on my birthday dinner, which both of his parents attended, because he was going to Incheon with Na Jaemin and Lee Jeno? Or when he blew me off every single time I tried to keep our friendship going?” you scoffed, turning towards him. Gowon, who’d been the first person to befriend you after you lost Donghyuck, kept quiet, but she placed a hand on your shoulder in support. “I don’t owe him anything for being a dick, and then deciding he wants to date me. It’s a miracle I even keep him around.”

Chaewon frowned, laying off, but Sungchan didn’t seem to like your answer. Instead, he picked up his tray, pushed himself off the ground, and began a tantrum-ish march to the school building. Nobody tried to stop him.

“I didn’t know,” Chaewon muttered, twiddling her thumbs. “Sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” you hummed, packing up your lunch box. “Sungchan’ll get over himself.”

-

Once again, rain poured outside, trapping you and your classmates in your classroom while everyone waited for the principal to announce it was safe to leave. For the most part, it was quiet, with mostly everybody parked at their desk and studying or napping. You were watching some random Japanese drama from 2008, laying your head on a quasi-pillow (your bunched-up sweater) that rested on your desk.

Everyone was tired. Of course they were, as it was a Thursday, and nobody wanted to be at school past 4 pm on a Thursday.

The sound of the classroom door being thrown open seemed to grab everyone's attention. You glanced up, cringing when you saw who was invading your peaceful, little classroom. They instantly caused everyone (who was awake, that is) to start whispering back and forth as if the visitors were the president and his men.

You were lamenting the fact that the boy who sat in front of you wasn't at school today.

Donghyuck pulled the chair in front of you closer to your desk, taking a seat so that he’d be facing you rather than the chalkboard. You didn’t move, trying to focus on the subtitles of your new show. But, it seemed he wasn’t very deterred by your current activity, as he easily plucked your earbud from your ear.

Sighing, you paused your show, pushing yourself up from the uncomfortable position. Your back creaked as you did, causing a few sharp pains to travel up your spine.

“Did you need to bring your entire posse with you? you mumbled suppressing a yawn. He shrugged, leaning his elbow on your desk and putting his head in his hands.

“My birthday’s tomorrow,” he said, glancing down at your little setup before looking back up at you. “I’m having a party tonight, though. I’d like for you to come.”

Last year, you missed his birthday party, simply dropping off a gift with his mother before it began. You remember looking out your window, staring at the lights protruding from his house at the end of the street, the kids in the front yard, and the cars parked down the street. The neighborhood you lived in was a nice one—your house was one your mom inherited, which was the only reason you lived somewhere that nice—so houses were spread out to the point where he could get away with a party.

Plus, neither his mom nor his dad seemed to care what was happening. After you dropped the gift off, you watched them drive off together, and they didn’t seem to return until the next Sunday.

You remember thinking how much you would hate to go to a party like that.

“I’m not really into stuff like that,” you replied. “I’ll drop off your gift again and say hi, or something, but I’d rather not go to a party.”

“What if I said you could lock yourself in my room and hang out there the entire time?”

You scrunched your nose up, thinking about what your mom would do if she saw the party happening again while you lazed around in your bedroom. “No studying, no partying, just useless,” she’d tell you, pinching your cheek. “At least do something.”

“I guess,” you mumbled, looking around to see everybody staring at you. In the doorway stood Huang Renjun and Zhong Chenle, both watching you converse a little too intently.

At your response, a warm smile blossomed on Donghyuck’s face. “Great. See you tonight.”

He pushed himself up from the chair, leaving it where it was rather than tucking it in. He shoved his hands into his pockets, pushing past Renjun and Chenle, who stayed and stared at you for a second more. Chenle said something, but you couldn’t hear what it was; after that, he walked off, Renjun following.

You laid your head back down, putting your earbud back in your ear, but you didn’t go to play your drama. Instead, you sat there, staring at the rain pour, slamming into the window faster than you’d ever seen it go.

You hoped he’d leave you alone after this. Getting over the loss of the person you spent nearly your whole childhood with would be difficult, but you’d muscle through it—you always did.

-

Chaewon and Gowon sat on your couch, watching you fail at wrapping the gift you’d prepared for Donghyuck. They were dressed casually for the event so that you didn’t feel out of place as you walked in and beelined for the upstairs.

“So, you’re…regifting him something?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, ripping tape out of the dispenser. “It’s a little keychain he got me two years ago, along with a ring I put on a chain. He likes necklaces…I think. It’ll be a good way to say, ‘let’s not see each other for a while,’ you know?”

You ignored the tugging at your heart and the way your throat seemed to close at the thought, focusing on how best to wrap the small box in a way that didn’t look ugly. Because of your intense focus, you were lost on the way Chaewon and Gowon looked at each other as if they somehow picked up on the way you were feeling.

“You’re sure there’s no way you could be in love with him too, right?” Chaewon suddenly asked, causing you to perk up. You furrowed your brows at that, your heart lurching in your chest at the question. It made you nervous.

“What? No.” You shook your head, placing a final piece of tape on the gift. You held it up and examined the poor wrapping job you did, frowning at it. For a temporary-last gift, it sucked. “Not a chance.”

“Should we go then? It’s 8, we’re already an hour late.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, standing up with the box. “Now or never, I guess. Have you heard from Sungchan?”

“He’s probably there already. Heard he’s friends with Zhong Chenle and never told us,” Gowon said. You looked at her, eyes widened.

“Really? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, well, now’s the time for learning, I guess,” she said. The three of you approached the door, slipping on shoes and putting on jackets. The moment you opened the door, you were hit with a blast of wet, hot air.

“I hate summer,” you mumbled, stepping outside. Your friends followed, and, together, you made the small trek to Donghyuck’s house. It was surrounded by cars and kids, and the sound of loud music accompanied by bright lighting filled the air. You were glad you didn’t live in a packed area, because, if you did, you were sure this would’ve gone a lot worse.

You pushed past all the already-drunk people outside, grabbing onto Chaewon’s hand for support. “This doesn’t look like a gift-giving party,” you whispered, to which Chaewon rolled her eyes, squeezing your hand.

“And you’re close to him, so you’re expected to get a gift.”

Gowon opened the door and, instantly, you were hit with the scent of alcohol and sweat, which wasn’t pleasant at all. Donghyuck’s house, having been renovated when you were kids, was the perfect location for a party like this one, with people roaming about and searching for something to do. The music drowned out anything you could hear, so you hoped Gowon would follow as you moved ahead, slipping past several people you knew (and, many people you didn’t).

The stairwell wasn’t far from the door, and you made it easily. Jaemin and Mark were lingering near it, seemingly making sure nobody tried to sneak up there and potentially steal something. You nodded your head at Jaemin the moment you made eye contact, but he didn’t step out of the way.

“I can take the gift,” he half-yelled, holding his hand out. Despite the volume of his voice, you could barely hear him and were a bit confused when he took the box out of your hands. You leaned closer to hear him, but you halfway wished you hadn’t. “Only you’re allowed up.”

You lurched back, looking at Chaewon and Gowon, who both nodded at you reassuringly. Chaewon released your hand, giving you a small smile before linking arms with Gowon. You sighed, running up the stairs as fast as you could. As promised, it was much quieter upstairs—as quiet as it could be given the surroundings—and much emptier. The upstairs looked just as you remembered it looking, with the only difference being a couple of newer pictures placed along the walls.

This felt like your childhood. A bit of nostalgia squeezed your heart as you walked down the hall, staring at pictures of the Lee family that you knew so well. Donghyuck’s parents were beautiful—unsurprising given how beautiful their son was—and that was made known by their wedding pictures, which sat framed at the edge of the hall.

You approached them, examining the bundles of photos they had put up. You remembered the several times you, as a small kid, told Donghyuck’s mother how you wanted to look just like her when she got married, with her gorgeous white gown and veil.

How ironic.

You turned the corner, approaching the final door in that section of the corridor. It was closed, and a small “do not enter!” sign was plastered on it. You blatantly ignored the directions, turning the knob and pushing inside.

His room looked different from the last time you were here.

It was darker, more mature, with more posters and less empty wall space. It looked like the teenage boy's room you’d see on a TV show, especially with the fancy computer and three monitors he had sitting on the desk. You shut the door behind you—it was kind of shocking how his room blocked out all the sound from downstairs—looking around at all he had up.

On his dresser were a few framed pictures, all of which were pictures of you two. The first one was one when you were little, two kids smiling on a playground with no worries in the world, dressed in matching sun and moon outfits. Then, there was a picture of you two at a class performance you had to do in second grade, dressed in tacky outfits that your parents had made together.

The third was a picture of you two in middle school, dressed in your uniforms roaming Lotte World, eating ice cream and laughing at whatever joke was shared between you two. You look back on that day fondly, remembering how much fun you’d had. That was where Donghyuck had gotten the keychain you were gifting back to him.

The final picture was one from your first year of high school. This one was much more robotic than the rest, both of you smiling for the picture and not just to smile. You stood far apart from each other, holding onto your school bags and looking mildly uncomfortable. Your hair was messy from a long day, and there were prevalent bags under Donghyuck’s eyes.

He looked unhappy, in a way. So did you.

Sighing, you approached his bed, taking a seat on the floor and leaning your back against it. You slid your phone from your jacket pocket, scrolling through various notifications you had. Most were from Chaewon, who was using her phone to have her and Gowon communicate with you.

“On an adventure to find a bathroom and lock ourselves insides,” read the first one, along with a couple of random emojis she tacked on.

“Sungchan is all up close and personal with some of Donghyuck’s posse. Who’d have thought they were friends when he’s such a loser lol.”

And, finally, a “Hiding in a non-crowded corner!! Only one bathroom was open, but we will survive by people watching!!”

You typed back a swift response, confirming you were in Donghyuck’s bedroom and feeling quite tired. If you had to guess, this night would end without you seeing Donghyuck at all, and you’d fall asleep on his bedroom floor, only to be woken up by Gowon and Chaewon, who’d snuck upstairs after everyone passed out drunk.

“Gowon here, and I think Donghyuck opened your gift. He doesn’t look pleased, I think. Storming towards the stairs. Fighting!”

Okay, so maybe you spoke too soon. You looked towards the door, wondering what he would have to say to you about it; maybe he’d reject it, giving it back to you and telling you to fuck off, or maybe he’d be reasonable about it, let you talk through things.

Considering the way the door opened, you assumed it to be the former.

Donghyuck practically slammed the door shut behind him, holding up the small white box that you’d put the ring-necklace and keychain in. He stared at you for a second, and you stared back, waiting for him to say something.

“What is this?”

You shrugged, looking at the box. “The sun keychain you got me a few years ago and—”

“The ring you liked to wear all the time in middle school. Yes, I know, I’m aware, but that’s not what I meant.”

You knew what he meant, but you didn’t want to. “Okay, then what did you mean?”

He narrowed his eyes, dropping to the floor in front of you. He stared at you, trying to gauge what exactly you were trying to accomplish by acting clueless. “Why are you giving it back?”

“Because I feel like we need to separate for a bit longer. Like, actually separate this time. Not the not-see-each-other-for-three-weeks routine anymore. A few months without being sun and moon, and just being two different people.”

He put the box down, crossing his legs. Donghyuck didn’t say anything, assuming the same hurt face he had when you told him he didn’t love you. “This is exactly why I never wanted to tell you,” he finally said, letting his head drop to the floor. “One chance your perfect bubble is disrupted and you’ll freak out and shut down.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you were a bit shocked at his response. You had nothing to say, nothing to defend yourself with other than the pitiful look you gave.

“But I’m going to say no to that, [First]. You can’t run every single time something doesn’t go your way. So we either figure this out right here and now, or I don’t think we’ll make it much farther as friends.”

You didn’t want to lose your friendship with him. He was the closest thing to you, the closest person to your secrets, the closest person to your happiness. You were okay with a break for a few months, maybe more, but you did not want to unfriend him for forever.

The way your heart hurt, the way your head spun, the way you found it hard to look him in the eyes and say “but we need this” was taking a toll on you. And, as you went through the motions, a little voice in your head began to say “Maybe you are in love with him, just a little bit. Maybe you have been for a while.”

“I’m sorry for ghosting you last year,” he continued, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I didn’t consider how you would feel and put myself first. I ejected you from a big change in my life, and I just assumed you’d be there to come back to after it was all said and done. You didn’t deserve it.”

You bit your lip in an attempt to keep your emotions squared off and invisible. Even hearing the apology made you want to fall apart, after waiting so long to hear anything of the sort. You remembered how lost you felt without him around, how hurt you felt when you sent text after text and yielded no response.

“Okay, I forgive you.”

It was short, but it got the point across without you bursting into tears at Lee Donghyuck actually apologizing to you. He took another deep breath, closing his hands into a fist.

“One more time, then. [First], I am in love with you.”

You sharply inhaled, looking down at the floor. “Okay. I could be, too. Maybe a little bit.”

It went silent between you, and you refused to look up from the ground. Gently, you reached out and began tracing little drawings on the floor, ones that you visualized in your mind. Saturn, the moon, the stars, the sun, you and Donghyuck, in constant orbit with each other, up in a boundless space you would never reach.

Suddenly, he got onto his knees, causing you to look up. Faster than you would’ve imagined, he shuffled over to you, encasing your face with his hands and pulling you into a soft yet heavy kiss. It left you stunned, but you didn’t seem to mind it that much.

Like the sun, Donghtuck was warm, from the way his hands managed to warm up your already burning cheeks or the way he practically emulated heat, as you felt from the close contact. He tasted like sour lemonade, perfect for a hot, summer day that had you trapped outside for the majority of the day. In a way, he was summer, carefree and bright, ready to ditch all responsibility and run off into the sunset.

When he pulled away from you, he seemed a bit embarrassed, sitting back on his feet and looking off to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “I didn’t ask if I could do that. Sorry.”

“I…didn’t mind too much,” you responded, looking down at the floor for the white box that held the keychain and the ring necklace. You opened it, picking up the chain and sliding the ring off it. You grabbed his hand, hoping it would at least fit on his pinky (which it did, thankfully). “Happy birthday.”

He looked down, a small scoff escaping his lips. “What, are you proposing? It hasn’t even been a minute, I mean, are you that obsessed with me?”

“Oh, yeah, For sure.” You rolled your eyes, dropping his hand so you could leave a small punch on his shoulder. “Let’s date, Lee Donghyuck.”

He repeated your idea with a high-pitched, mocking voice, and you could tell he was incredibly embarrassed. It made you giggle, and flick his forehead, to which he lurched back and gave you an incredulous look.

“Get over yourself.”

“If I do, will you take the keychain back?”

“Oh, shut up, loser.”

thank you for reading!

pussy puss puss, give ‘em cunt cunt cunt, bitch!

˗ˋˏ YUCK! ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only (Part Two)

synopsis: how can you remain friends with benefits with someone who turns his plushies around during sex, pouts when you don't kiss him goodbye, and spends his time occupying your mind when all you want is for him to leave you alone?

pairing: lsm x yn (gn afab)

genre: fluff, humor, romance | pwp, smut

tags: alcohol/food - reader also briefly blacks out, costume party, cursing, domesticity, fwb, sexual innuendos, showering together, yn un-alives a spider, university au | cowgirl, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering, handjob, hickies, love making, pet names, pnv, praise

wc: 11.5k

a/n: hi this is part 2/2 of yuck! thank you all so much for waiting. I honestly had so much fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading. lmk if I missed any tags in part one or two. comments and reblogs are super appreciated!! pls pee after sex so you don't get an uti ♡ -nu

yuck! - part one

lipglossjun's masterlist

He came to your door unannounced, knocking loudly on your front door and causing you to jump in your seat. Three sharp knocks against the door using his middle knuckles and then a few friendly taps because he realizes he's standing in front of your door and not his resident’s door. The sound echoes loudly inside your lonely apartment but isn’t loud enough to alarm your neighbors because he purposely leans his side against the door to diffuse the sound and vibrations. You can’t blame him for his habit - he’s used to knocking on so many doors in one night that the freezer part of his mini fridge is stocked with frozen sponges in plastic baggies so he can ice his swollen knuckles at night. You don’t even have to look through your peeping hole to know it’s him, but it’s weird because you know he should be on-call today. Still, the knocks are enough to scare you into thinking you’re still dorming in the universities.

He tells you he has an employee banquet a few days before the break and was worried that his makeup might smudge on his suit. He also brought your go-to drink order from the tea shop across campus, punching in your specific add-ons and adjustments into the kiosk before even deciding what new seasonal drink he wanted to try. You had no choice but to begrudgingly take your drink from him while you shuffled to the side of your door so he could come into your apartment.

"I thought you already knew how to do this.”

You see him hold up your hand mirror to his neck to look at the small bruise you left on the side of his neck a few nights ago. He sits cross-legged on your apartment living room carpeted floor while you sit on the ottoman next to him.

“Only for an everyday base routine for my face,” he frowns while softly poking his bruise. “But my neck makeup keeps smudging and I don’t know how to stop it from getting on my clothes,” he admits while he lowers the neckline of his t-shirt, thinking about the stains he left on his shirt collars.

You uncap the bottle you’re holding and spray the cool setting spray on his bruise. He fans the wet product with his hand while you dig through his toiletry bag for his color-correcting palette. You dip his tiny makeup brush into the palette and bring the product-coated brush to paint over his bruise.

“If you want me to stop marking you, you can just tell me,” you suggest to him while brushing another thin layer. You tap your pointer finger lightly around the harsh edges, blending the colors into his skin. An intrusive thought tells you to poke your finger deep into his skin, but you decide not to.

He ooo’s at how you’re blending the product, angling the mirror so he can better see how you’re working.  

“But I like them,” he says while you spritz another light layer of setting spray. “They remind me of you,” he softly confesses while you blow on his skin. He finds himself angling the mirror again so that the mirror now focuses on your face.

He giggles at the tingling sensation of your warm breath against the cold product, and he smiles to himself when he sees your concentrated expression through the reflection in the mirror – how you purse your lips and how your eyebrows furrow together. If he weren’t an RA, he would proudly wear his love bites as a badge for everybody around him to see. He wants people to tease him whenever they see the bruise poking out of his hoodie when his hood is down. It’s not to let people know he’s getting it on. That’s just not who he is.

But there is that part of him that wants others to know you’re his. He’s tired of soft launching you on his Instagram. That’s what people do when they want others to know they’re talking to somebody. But you’re just his friend. He’s completely fine with showing you off, but he respects your privacy, knowing how much you hate having your picture taken. It’s also not like his closest friends don’t know about his relationship with you, but if it makes you happy, he’ll take it. He likes what the two of you have. And after all, he doesn't care about the pictures. It’s the person whose plate is almost always pictured across from his, the hand holding the ice cream cone, the second shadow under the street light who he cares for.

The bruises feel sore, but he loves how you automatically coddle him afterward, especially after a heated session. You always have that worried look on your face, your lips pouty and frowny. He remembers the number of ridges between your brows when you ask him how he’s feeling. He always tells you that he feels fine, great even, but you always sigh with a defeated look on your face. You’ll walk to the fridge in nothing but one of his old t-shirts and grab him a cold metal spoon. He doesn’t know if the cold spoon hack works, but he lets you do it anyway. He’ll let you do anything if it means he gets to spend more time with you no matter how prickly you may seem on the outside.

Now, he’s spending more time with you on a lazy Tuesday night. He’s done for the day and doesn’t have any RA duties at night because the university recently handed on-call duties for the campus security to handle. On the other hand, you didn’t have anything scheduled for today and spent the entire day indoors. You’re still in your pajamas – a free shirt from a past school event and old running shorts that you never wore while exercising. There are leftover food delivery containers in your fridge from dinner. You tell him the importance of investing in a tinted sunscreen while pushing up your wired glasses. It’s ironic because he knows you haven’t washed your face today or applied any form of sun protection at all. The closer you lean into him to be sure he understands, the redder his cheeks flush. He hopes his mineral powder is enough to diffuse the blush or at least make it seem like it’s the redness from his acne.

Feeling a little hot, he reaches over to grab his fruit slushie-turned-juice from the coffee table and brings it to his lips. He sucks the concoction through the metal straw, letting the cool liquid settle in his mouth so he can savor it before swallowing. You notice the condensation dripping down his arms before he does, and you wipe it away with the edge of your t-shirt without any thought. Your drink is already long gone, finished within minutes after poking your straw through the flimsy plastic lid, washed and disposed of in your recycling bin. He wonders if the taste of his drink would linger on your tongue if he kisses you. And he wonders how the tangy sourness of his drink would contrast or balance the extra amount of sweetness in your tea.

But you’re done concealing the bruise, already sealed it off with the last layer of setting spray. Satisfied with your job, you plop yourself on the other side of the couch and grab the book you put face-down on the table when DK arrived at your front door. You tuck your legs under you and use the armrest as your elbow support as you resume your novel. DK types the makeup steps into his notes app and quickly cleans up his products, looking for something to do.

DK snakes his head between the open gap between your stomach and your book, putting his head on your chest. You pay him no mind, flipping another page while he thinks of a conversation starter. He relaxes into the feeling of your chest rising and dropping and the steady thumping of your heartbeat pulsing under his ear. He asks you what your novel is about while twiddling with the hem of your shirt, noticing it’s still a bit damp from before.

“Smut,” you nonchalantly answer him. You didn’t know much about the novel, but you borrowed it from your friend who kept raving about it while you visited her the other day. She claimed it was better than sex, but honestly, all you’ve been reading so far are overly detailed descriptions of scenery while the main character stares out of the parked car window.

“But you have me,” he teases you. He lets go of your shirt to poke you on your cheek between each word, “You. Have. Me.”

You swat his hand away from your face and subsequently decide to place your novel on his head to use as a stand. He huffs underneath the book, and you snicker at him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. You think it’s cute whenever he’s being annoying, throwing tiny tantrums whenever he doesn’t have enough attention. You catch yourself lingering on the thought of what his neediness would be like if the two of you were together.

“I’m too lazy,” you flip another page after letting the thought dissipate. “You’re on your own unless you can find another way to do it.”

He huffs and lifts the novel from his forehead to sit up. He turns to you and untucks your legs from beneath you.

“Continue reading your book. Let me eat you out while you rest,” he tells you while pulling your legs with ease so only your upper back and head is leaning against the couch’s armrest. He rests your legs on each side of him.

“Go ahead, but wouldn’t that be a little boring for you?” you ask him while your eyes are still trained on your novel. Even though you spend a lot of time thinking about him manhandling you, his persona easily makes you forget about just how strong he is.

He grabs a cushion from the middle of the couch and tucks it behind your neck. He asks you if you’re comfortable. You give him a thumbs-up, and he gently pecks your thumb before moving your hand back to your book so you can properly hold your book. His little touches and kisses aren’t new to you, but you think it’d be a shame if his kiss transferred onto your pages instead of keeping it to yourself. You choose to hover your thumb above the pages, choosing to use your hand’s round fleshy thenar to hold the pages.

You lift your hips upwards so he can easily remove your bottoms. He tugs them off you as if he has all the time in the world, folding your shorts and undies and setting them on the coffee table like they’re part of the decoration.

“I don’t think I’d be bored,” he kneels himself in front of you and lowers himself so he’s flat against the couch. He gently lifts your shirt higher so it’s past your belly button and proceeds to hook your legs over his shoulders. “Read to me? Out loud?” he asks you while massaging the outside of your thighs.

You lift your book, looking at him quizzically. However, when you see the tiny fading red mark on his forehead from when you used him as a stand, you can’t help but agree to his request. He lowers his head to your core and quickly taps your thighs twice to tell you to read.

“Now, a black flashy standard motorcycle with matching black chrome wheels pulls into the driveway of the auto shop where your car is currently getting its engine replaced. The steady hum of the engine is enough to have every single mechanic in the vicinity turn their –,” you were doing pretty well at reading until DK, without warning, puts his warm tongue flat against your clit, licking upwards until it reaches your nub. “Ah – h-heads to stare at the bike,” you stumble with the last phrase.

He lets his spit drop at the top of your clit, watching it glide downwards along your ridges before catching it with his tongue like a little game of Plinko. He feels you tense under his tongue, causing him to hum in delight. He mumbles something about you doing good before attaching his tongue to you again.

“One of them whistles when the motorcyclist comes to a full stop in front of the open auto shop garages,” you try to ignore the fact that he’s gently blowing wind to tease you, to hear you stumble across your words. There is no way you are going to cave right when you started reading out loud, so you bite your lip when you feel his soft and open lips close around your labia. But you can’t ignore him no matter how hard you try.

He kisses you deeply, full-mouthed while his large hands lock around your thighs. Painstakingly slowly, he buries his face deeper into your cunt.

“Eungh- O-one of them whistles when the mo- oh,” you moan while your mouth hangs open when he circles the tip of his tongue around your clitoris. You move your novel away to look at DK whose entire face is gone. You can only see his bushy black hair.

He continues to circle his tongue around you while your breathing gets shallower. You feel your arousal building, causing your thighs to close around his head. He looks up at you looking back at him with a lustful expression. He sucks softly on your clitoral hood and pries your thighs open with his hands. He only winks, letting go of your skin through his lips before going back to eating your cunt.

“…motorcyclist can loudly rev his engine,” you manage to finish the paragraph with a little sigh of relief.

“Mmmh. Good job, baby,” he groans, praising you against your cunt.

He kisses the inside of your right thigh while moving your left leg off his right shoulder.

You find yourself frowning just a little bit when you think he’s finished, but truthfully, he’s only moving your leg off the couch so he can finger you while eating you out. He puts his right hand on your stomach and uses his thumb to rub your nub.

“I’ll reward you if you keep reading okay?”

He kisses your stomach and moves your shirt down so you wouldn’t shiver from being cold. If only he knew why you were shivering.

“‘Couldn’t you have driven here?’ you frown at your older brother w- ah- fuck. Fuck,” you jerk in your seat when DK inserts a finger in your cunt. You can feel him smile against you as he drags his tongue against your folds while his finger dips in and out of you knowing exactly how to drag a string of moans from your mouth, to make your legs tremble and shake.

All this, and you’re only half a page into reading out loud.

“…while he reaches between his legs to pass you his extra motorcycle helmet as you approach him,” you read while trying to ignore the fact that you’re gripping your borrowed novel with so much force that you probably bent the matte paperback cover. “He shrugs and passes you the helmet which you – mmm fuck just like that – begrudgingly fit over your head.”

You’re clenched tightly around his two fingers as he curls them in you while sloppily giving you head. You hear exactly how wet you are, how his fingers squelch every time he reinserts them in you, how his coated lips smack against your glistening pussy – devouring you as his life depended on it. You can feel your juices pool around your ass as he uses his left arm to hold you down whenever you lurch upwards. He moans profanities against you, but never at you. When he raises his head to take a break, he makes sure his fingers never stop moving. He always brings you to your high, and you feel so safe with him.

And he tells you you’re sweet. He always does.

Sometimes you’re sweet because he compliments you for doing something for him. He calls you sweet when you’re frowning about somebody criticizing your RBF. You like it when he calls you sweet when he calls you Sweetie. You like it when he says it with flair. You like it when he says it when you show him your project. You like it whenever he says it when you make him take a sip of any of your sugary drinks – the way his face contorts in total disgust, but he still manages to do so with a smile on his face.

He never called you my sweet, but god damn do you wish you could experience what it would feel like for him to call you his. But tonight he describes your flavor as sweet as you like your teas. He can’t stop praising you for how sweet you are, how you’re like dessert on his tongue. And you can’t get him out of your head.

“He leans forward and clicks open the motorcycle’s rear footrests with the back of his boot,” your face scrunches, but you continue. “When he is done, he looks back at you struggling – eungh Kyeom,” you struggle.

He only grips your thigh tighter as he alternates between fingering you and pausing so he can kiss your cunt like he’s kissing you during sex. He flattens his tongue against you and twists it so he can tease your hole. You’re whining and speeding through the last few words of the sentence, desperate to have him in you.

“Whoa. Whoa,” he temporarily detaches himself from you to grab onto your forearm as he raises himself above you. His lips glisten from the wetness, and the color of his flushed face compliment the color of his sore lips. “Slow down baby,” he tells you and kisses your cheek, “Wanna hear your pretty voice, okay? Just read and relax.” He strokes your hair and brushes away the strands covering your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.”

But you don’t relax. How can you relax when he grips your hips, fingers dipping into your pelvic bone as he shoves his nose against your clitoris, sticking his tongue into your cunt? He bobs his head while he tongue-fucks you, nudging your nub and making your pussy throb even when he briefly comes up for air.

Your vision blurs as he continues to build your high, ignoring you as you continue to call out his name. The words on the page are replaced by stars when you tell him you can’t take it anymore. Heart racing and muscles tightening, you cum while his tongue is in you. And he laps you up as you convulse around him, back arching as you continue to come. He drinks what’s left of you like he’s drinking ice cold water at midnight – you’re insatiable. You moan his name into your book once more, hiccupping as he brings your left leg back on the couch.

“Yn,” he whispers as he removes your book from your face. He puts it on the coffee table without breaking eye contact with you. “What did you call me?”

You don’t hear him as you’re still struggling to catch your breath. Your pussy is still pulsing without pause. Everything is hazy, but you can see him reaching over for something in his cosmetics bag. You close your eyes, still undeniably horny and wanting more.

There is a little bit of shuffling and then the sound of a few light things dropping on the floor. He reaches under you and scoops you up as if you weigh nothing. You briefly remember him telling you about hitting a new PR where he could lift someone a little over his weight. But he brings you to your bed, only switching on your nightstand lamp.

He sits on the side of your bed while he strokes your cheek.

“Yn,” he whispers again while leaning closer to you. “Do you remember what you called me?”

You blink twice at him before slowly realizing. Your lips part in realization, and he only smiles at you.

He opens your nightstand drawer and pulls out a condom and your bottle of lube. Your fingers automatically fly to cover your lips in horror, but he only chuckles at your expression while he positions himself between your legs and leans over you. He coats his wrapped dick in the lube and rubs the remaining gel around your vulva. You whimper at the coldness, and he wipes the remaining bits on his thighs.

He leans over you again and rests his elbows on the sides of your face. He asks you again, gently, if you remember what name you called him.

You nod your head, breath hitching as you stare at him. It’s unfair, you think, to look as pretty as he is under the ugly yellow light your lamp emits. But he looks at you with so much care in the world, and you feel thankful that you’re spending your Tuesday night with him. You thank his lame excuse for intruding on your time for yourself. You thank him for spending time with you, for looking after you, even if he isn’t yours at that moment.

He aligns himself at your entrance while waiting for your answer.

You whisper it almost inaudibly, barely believing yourself as you let the word leave your mouth.

“Say it again,” he instructs you.

“Seokmin.”

You’re not sure if the two of you should have come up with one of those contracts you always read about in books when you first started the relationship. Maybe you should’ve learned from Lara Jean – a binding relationship contract written on notebook paper and signed in pen. There would be a couple of items on the list, a few weird ones, and then a majority of the items being standard ones. Standard item number one? No kissing. Standard item number two? No staying over after sex (sub-line: No cuddling). Standard item number three? No meeting unless it’s for sex. Maybe a weird item would be the option to try pegging. However, the last item on the list? No developing feelings for the other party.

If rules are made to be broken, but contracts signed by people older than eighteen are legally binding, then you would’ve been in jail by now.

His lips are locked against yours, groaning your name as he wraps your legs around his waist. He nibbles along your jaw as he makes love to you, slowly pushing deep inside you so you can feel his balls lay flush against your ass, feeling all of him in you. You call his name through a choked sob, your hands roaming around to find something to grab. Anything.

Your fingers find the back of his head, and you pull on his hair. And he flips like a switch, immediately pounding into you over and over again, praising you and calling you his.

Tonight, the rules have definitely been broken. And you’re starting to realize this isn’t the first offense.

.

“Okay so, I didn’t want to take it off because I wanted to see if my makeup would smudge, but I did it because I knew I was going to get hot.”

“Omg he wanted to keep his shirt on. He’s so quirky!”

“Stoppp,” he laughs while he passes the showerhead to you. “I can’t believe you’re the only person who tried to tell me a joke during sex.”

“It’s because I’m the only person you’ve ever had sex with,” you stick your tongue out at him while you rinse the body wash you previously bought with DK off your body.

“You too,” he retorts while turning around so you can rinse the soap off his body for him.

He grabs your shampoo from your hanging wire basket and plops a dollop into his hand. He tells you to look up while he lathers it in his hand before he brings his hands to massage your scalp. His fingers feel amazing while he massages you, so you close your eyes in the process, hoping to keep the shampoo out of your eyes.

He thinks you look like one of those dogs from the pictures you find online where the owner sticks a metal head massager on their heads. Your eyes are closed in contentment, and there’s a lazy smile on his face that he only gets to see so often. He can’t help himself but sneak a little kiss on your lips while he piles your hair into a mountain so that you look like that one guy from the first Incredibles movie.

You open your eyes to look at him, but you see that he’s purposely looking away, pretending to be interested in something else. You try to follow his eyes, but your eyes land on something dark crawling down the wall above DK’s head.

Being you, you blatantly point out the descending spider, and DK screams, slips, and crashes onto the tiled floor. Your bath products tumble down after him. You sigh, knowing you’ll have to clean up the mess and drive him to school tomorrow instead of sending him off tonight.

.

“Aww you care for me,” Dokyeom coos while you fuss over the ice pack on his ankle.

“I’m just making sure my Sybian isn’t too damaged,” you scoff at him.

You thought you would spend the night with a cozy book in bed while you wait for your face mask to dry. However, you find yourself blow-drying DK’s hair, letting him borrow one of your old t-shirts, and nursing his badly bruised ankle. It’s a wonder how he somehow didn’t end up spraining it after that nasty fall. You could’ve sworn you heard the cartoon swishing sounds while he tried not to slip.

Not to mention, he somehow talked you into cuddling with him in bed through several lame excuses.

Q. What if I fell off the bed?

A. Fuck, then pick yourself up I guess.

Q. What if I sprained my dick?

A. We have toys.

He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Although, you have to admit it feels very nice to sit in bed with him with his left arm around your waist while the two of you silently scroll through your phones. He leans his head on your shoulder and hugs you from the side. You tilt your phone towards him so he could watch you tap through your friends’ stories. You can tell he’s more needy than usual, probably from climaxing more than once in one night and then undergoing the shower incident following right after – he screamed while you crumpled the spider in a wad of tissue. He’s latching onto you like a parasite, but he does give you good dick so you think it’s more like a symbiotic relationship. The way he’s clinging to you makes you think it is what it feels like to be trapped under one of those large teddy bears you can buy at warehouse retail stores. 

He asks you if you’re going to the party on the weekend after you tap through the story of a mutual friend. You tell him you are.

“Be my date to the party?” he asks you.

You think he forgot you always go to parties with Jun and Chan.

“No thank you,” you politely decline his request, “I don’t do party dates.”

He pushes himself off of you, “Why not?”

“Because all of my past dates always left me for their friends and I would just spend every single party alone,” you grumble thinking about how many times you ended up taking care of drunk people you didn’t know because you ended up being sober the whole time.

“But I wouldn’t leave you.”

“There!” you exclaim while pointing your finger at him, “That’s what they all said to me.”

He frowns and crosses his arms, kind of upset you would think he would ever leave your side.

“Date or not I’m still not going to leave your side,” he grumbles while slinking down so he lays on the bed. He turns his body away from you to sulk.

The ice pack falls off his leg and tumbles to the ground. He continues to lay on the bed, not doing anything to pick it up so he can ice himself.

You know how stubborn he can be, especially when his pride is mixed in the equation. Part of you is proud he is sticking through being moody by refusing to move. However, you know how soft he is. If his future kid got a paper cut, he would probably end up crying harder than his kid. His kid would probably end up consoling him. His ankle must feel like pins and needles are sticking into it without the icepack, and he can’t do anything to distract the pain because his phone is out of his reach.

“Kyeom,” you gently shake his body. “You have to ice your ankle.”

He only shakes you off and brings his legs to his chest.

Usually, you would smack him with a pillow and call him dumb, but you think he’s suffered enough damages for the day. You know if you continue asking him to ice his ankle, he would just ignore you. So, you think either climbing on top of him or tricking him into breaking would be better choices. You choose the latter.

“Sigh,” you say out loud, pretending to talk to yourself. “If DK is sleeping then that means I’ll have nobody to cuddle with while I talk about my slutty costume choices.”

You see him slowly turn his head to look at you in the corner of your eye, but he quickly averts your gaze and turns his head back to its original position. You find yourself smiling at his action. He’s like a literal child. A puppy.

“Aww I thought Kyeom wanted to cuddle all night, but I guess I have to go to sleep because he’s asleep,” you tell him while leaning over him to check on him.

You see he’s pretending to sleep. He squints his eyes shut. His lips are poutier than usual, pressed in a thin line to probably stop himself from speaking.

“Maybe I’ll go sleep on the living room couch by myself so he can be more comfortable by himself,” you slowly move off the bed by trying to cross over his body.  

“Noo,” he wails while sitting up to grab you. He immediately yanks you back down, trapping you in his arms. “How slutty is it, Yn? HOW SLUTTY?”

.

You have your morning lab in a few hours, but you’re standing alone in your dark kitchen with your head stuck in the freezer. The only source of direct light comes from your freezer, and you’re glad you’ve lived in your place long enough to navigate in the dark. The green digital clock digits flash on your oven. It’s getting close to 4:00 am, but you can’t sleep.

The icepack, or more like a water pack at this point, left a giant wet spot on your carpet while it thawed. It now sits in a lumped form in the side door, wedged between a frozen loaf of bread and some microwavable pizza bagels. The coldness of the freezer feels nice on your skin, but it’s not enough to make you feel numb.

You feel hot and stuffy, and your mind has a million thoughts running around at once. You make him tell you why you should be his date to a stupid costume party, and he tells you he likes you. However, his dumbass knocks out immediately after while he’s still holding you tight in his arms. You’re left alone with your thoughts and a pounding heart while you wait for him to finally let go of you when he is asleep.

Truthfully, you want to tear your hair out. It’s not like you couldn’t wake him up to make him tell you whether or not he finished his sentence. However, you think you’ve already tested his patience enough in one day. You would trust his “I like you” more if he told you while he was drunk, but telling you and then immediately knocking out? You really don’t know if it could count as a confession.

So now you whisper scream into a frozen bag of mixed vegetables while you think about everything that happened this night. You think about him showing up at your door. You think about the hickies he leaves between your thighs. You think about the way he kisses you after you moan his name.

“Seokmin,” find yourself whispering his name.

You don’t understand how this name is so different from the others, but your fingers softly touch your lips as if you just whispered something you weren’t supposed to say. 

“Aww I get it. Jane Goodall. That’s so cute.”

“This is NOT a couple’s costume. I am clearly a hiker,” Chan angrily grumbles at the passerby while dumping another scoop of ice into the glass fishbowl on the kitchen island. He takes out his red handkerchief to wipe his hands and places it around his neck when he’s done.

“Why are you annoyed that people think you’re Jane Goodall? She’s one of the greatest scientists of our time. Do you not appreciate our women scientists? Women in STEM?” Jun asks him while he pops another sour gummy worm into his mouth. He licks the sour and sugary coating off his fingers one by one and wipes them dry on his monkey onesie.

You grab the bag of gummies from the table and dump the rest into the bowl. You tap and shake the edge of the bag until all of the remaining sugar falls into the bowl. Jun quickly plucks a worm out of the bowl before Chan turns around with a bottle of blue curacao in one hand and a bottle of coconut rum in the other hand. Chan insists on making fish bowls at parties for the three of you to share because he refuses to drink the jungle juice Jeonghan and Joshua make for parties. No matter how many times the two show Chan how they clean the giant clear plastic storage container they use for the juice, Chan absolutely refuses to drink from it. He argues that it’s a breeding ground for bacteria from people scooping the liquid with their cups, but Jeonghan dumbly replies that the amount of alcohol in the jungle juice should be enough to kill the germs.

By the time you’re done saying hello to some friends, Chan is already done making the bowl. He takes off his sunglasses and hangs it from his blue and grey colored top, looking at his creation with satisfaction. He swirls the bright blue concoction with three straws and tops it off with a paper umbrella toothpick he found in Jeonghan’s kitchen cabinets. Bon appétit.

The bright blue concoction stains your tongue, but it gives you a really nice buzz before you know how its aftereffects will hit you like a giant tsunami later. However, any precautious thought about getting too drunk and waking up with a massive hangover gets thrown out the window when Chan reminds you that the reason why the three of you took a ride-share cab is that you wantedto get fucked up. So the three of you smile and continue drinking.

.

The three of you are about two-thirds into finishing the fish bowl when you see DK and his friends stumble through the front door. DK’s dressed in the same slutty fireman costume he wears – the firefighter suit hanging low on his hips with the shoulder straps dangling, the hose on his shoulder, and the white tank top decorated with streaks of ash. You see Jeonghan greet him with a jello shot in his hand. The firefighter takes it from him and swirls his tongue around the perimeter of the jello, loosening it from the tiny container, and knocks it back swiftly in one go. He passes the container back to Jeonghan with no amount of blue raspberry flavored gelatin remaining on the inside. And all you can do is stare at him with your straw in your mouth while your friends attempt to play Jenga in their buzzed states.

It’s not long before you take your eyes off DK and realize that you finished the rest of the bowl by yourself. You tap in while Jun taps out of the game so he can happily scoop the slimy gummies out of the bowl and into his mouth. The tower looks jagged enough that one knee bumping against the table leg can easily knock the tower over. Shrek places their block on top of the tower with a shaky hand and sighs when the tower doesn’t topple over. A vampire bites their lip as they remove a side piece from the middle. You hold your breath as they slowly wiggle the piece loose, frowning when they successfully take it out of the stack and add it to the tower.

All eyes are on you as you hover your hand next to the piece that you want. You think if you take out that specific piece, you would make the tower a bit more balanced when it comes to how it leans. It also makes it harder for Chan to pull out a piece because he would end up shifting the balance if he pulled a block. Everything is in your favor – from the EDM song shuffling to a club song to your friends watching you silently – there is nothing that shouldn’t rule in your favor.

However, somebody behind you shrieks your name, and the tower topples. A few filled shot glasses are immediately placed in front of you, and everybody’s phone cameras are pointed at you, waiting to record you taking the shots. You sigh before bringing the first shot up to your mouth. You didn’t even get to touch the Jenga piece.

The perpetrator who stands behind you cheers the loudest every time you tip each empty shot glass over your head. He raises your hand in triumph and hugs you from behind your seat. The tsunami that’s been building up in the distance crashes. And by the end of it, you’re good as gone.

.

He tells you that no matter how comfortable his shoulder may feel at that moment, you do need to sit up and drink some water. And DK, for what seems like the nth time, hands you a bottle of water to drink.

He thanks the person who passed him the water bottle and stops for a minute. He points at him while scanning his outfit. “Hiker,” he finally decides on his answer.

“THANK YOU,” Chan yells at him while slapping him repeatedly on the back, unaware of his own strength, making DK flinch a little. Chan drunkenly decides that DK will become the fourth  person to drink from his fishbowl. He drags Jun, who is chatting up Trixie from the Fairly Odd Parents, with him to the kitchen to make a fresh batch.

DK is the type of person to make you forget, but not in a forgetful type of way. He makes you forget about your troubles. He makes you forget about the resident knocking on his door while the two of you hide in bed together. He makes you forget you’re at a house party in a room full of people. At that moment it’s just you leaning on his shoulder with his arm wrapped securely around you. None of you are hiding the fact that there’s something budding between the both of you. It feels nice, liberating even.

“Hi baby. You doing okay?” he asks you after making sure you drank until the waterline hit the top of the plastic label despite him being extremely drunk.

“I like it when you call me baby,” you mumble while falling back onto his shoulder, feeling yourself slowly sober up.

“Yeah?”

“But don’t tell anybody or else I’ll have your head,” you turn your head and glare at him.

“I’m not sure if that was a sexual reference or maybe you’ve been reading too many isekai mangas that Jun sends you,” he chuckles while laying your head on his shoulder. He almost sighs in relief when you don’t blame him for you losing Jenga earlier.

He gives an okay signal to any passerby who asks if you’re doing alright. 

“You weren’t by my side the whole time I was here. You’re a liar. Slutty liar.”

“I’m horrible aren’t I?” he kisses the top of your head.

“The worst.”

You never knew what “a beat” indicates in screenplays. You didn’t get why the screenwriter would want to indicate a pause. Nothing that you experienced in your life ever indicated a pause in the conversation. But now you understand. There are so many things you want to say, things you’re too afraid to say. You have questions for him, but you’re also happy he’s on your side. Maybe a “beat” is a filler. This pause in the conversation, you staring at him – eyes trying not to waver to his lips – it’s a mutual understanding between the two of you, something that makes up for what words cannot say. 

“I need to pee.”

.

Now is definitely not a good time to be confused about whether you need to pee or if you’re simply horny.

Tonight the two of you are sloppy, bodies pressed against each other in the quiet hallway of a house party. Someone occupies the hallway bathroom, and you’re leaning with your back against the wall. DK stands in front of you with his left forearm leaning against the wall in the space next to your right ear. He kisses along your jawline, nipping the base of your neck. The softness of his lips caresses your skin, blending into the waves while you slur your moans. He hushes you by covering his lips over yours. You prefer him closer to you so you reach behind his head to pull him into you. His mouth opens, and your tongue glosses over his. He meets you in the middle, circling his around yours and groaning when you tug on his lower lip with your teeth. Your hand roams across his chest, and he pushes into your thigh, grinding against you. Both of you are too drunk, too lost in each other to care if others are looking.

He pulls his head back and looks at you with a hooded gaze. He can’t believe the sight in front of him and the ache he feels inside of him. He leans his head against the side of your ear, nipping softly at your lobe before talking to you in a low voice, “I want to pin you against the wall with your legs wrapped around my waist while I whisper every single thought I’m having about you into your ear. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of this party without me supporting you. Everybody passing by will see how well you take me while you beg for me to pound into you deeper and harder. Then, you’d have to say goodbye to all of your friends while trying to keep my cum from leaking out of your sore pussy. I want to be able to open your legs and see it seeping out of you while I fuck it into you again in the car.”

Another beat.

This time it’s different. You feel your knees buckle underneath his body, sliding slightly down the wall. You look at his face hovering over yours, practically begging him to kiss you again. Anything. But he doesn’t. The two of you stay silent while you hear cheers from the living room. Then he proceeds to pull away as if nothing happened between you. He has the dopiest grin on his face. He cheeses at you – tiny wrinkles at the edge of his eyes and his pearly whites in full view. You’re still struggling to process the stream of consciousness he spoke into your ear.

“I like your pizza costume,” he giggles while poking your costume, especially the edges of the crust that hang off your shoulders.

“I bought it because I thought it might humor you,” you mumble while he takes your hands in his.

You see how much he’s gushing with happiness. You think he’s so cute, happy that your costume has such a positive effect on him. But you’re slightly annoyed that he’s able to move onto a different subject so quickly while you’re still stuck on the last one. You want more.

However, he tells you he really likes you and leans in to peck your cheek. When he pulls back, the bathroom door opens, and out steps Lee Jihoon who immediately grabs DK by his left ear and drags him away from you. “No fucking in the hallway,” he reprimands his friend.

DK only smiles at you while he’s being pulled away by his ear, too drunk to care, two finger hearts pointed directly at you.

You can only stand next to the vacant bathroom, now soberer than ever and seriously turned on.

You wake up on the floor next to your bed and slowly push yourself off the carpet, feeling the soreness in your body. You look at the carpet indents in your arm and then your surroundings. You notice your bed is empty, and Chan is asleep in his extra set of clothes, sprawled on the floor near your bedroom door. You can’t remember what happened in the latter half of the night, but you can at least deduce that all of you were at least sober enough to change out of your costumes and get ready for bed.

Your body is sore from sleeping on your floor, and you still feel pretty groggy. Still, the sweet scent of something coming from the kitchen is enough to convince you to walk outside instead of moving onto your bed to sleep some more. You stand up, knees cracking loudly, and you cross over Chan to exit your bedroom. You think it’s Jun who’s cooking, but you see him in his monkey onesie, passed out next to your rack of shoes near your entrance with a spare blanket covering him.

At least he has a blanket, you think to yourself. You woke up cold and with nothing covering you.

You see him standing in front of your toaster, wearing the extra set of clothes he keeps at your place. You see him place waffles into your toaster, minding his business while he hums to himself.

“Why are you here?” you approach him and stand by his side. You can see used wine glasses in the sink and opened chip bags you don’t remember buying sitting on the counter. The four of you probably continued drinking after arriving at your apartment. You hope there’s nobody else sleeping in your place.

“I dunno,” DK shrugs and proceeds to greet you by pulling you into his arms while he stands behind you, keeping a close eye on the frozen waffles.

You don’t get how he can look like he didn’t spend all of last night drinking. He looks completely refreshed with the kind of glow, an aura, you have after a good workout…not that you ever experienced what it must be like. He just looks like one of those smiling actors in fitness commercials.

You can feel his chest rumble against your back as he tells you he’s sorry he couldn’t cook something better for the four of you because he’s been living in the dorms for years. He honestly hasn’t touched a stove since he went home last summer. However, he did perfect cooking frozen food in microwaves and toasters. It’s the least he can do. He also quickly adds that he’s sorry he’s cooking all of your frozen waffles and would gladly reimburse you. You tell him to fuck off. There’s no way you would ever make him pay you back for making breakfast. He should know that by now.

The toaster pops, scaring you a little. A long yawn follows, and DK chuckles at you rubbing your eyes. He removes the waffles from the toaster and tells you to close your eyes. You dumbly follow, believing he’s going to kiss you when he cups your face in his hands. Instead, he rubs the inner corner of your eyes with his thumbs. “Eye boogers,” he says.

“Gross,” you watch him flick them to the ground.

“You thought that I was going to kiss you, huh,” he teases you while adding more frozen waffles into the toaster.

You grumble at him and stand to the side, leaning against your fridge. Your arms are crossed, and you watch him go back to humming the song he was humming before. It’s the same song playing from the speakers when the three of you decide to bring DK back to your apartment as there was no way he would have been allowed on campus in his state. It was partly Chan’s fault for getting him so fucked up – he couldn’t find regular vodka for the bowl so he replaced it with some Everclear he found tucked away under the sink. Jun tells him he really needs to stop snooping in Jeonghan’s cabinets. That’s when your memory starts to clear.

“Do you happen to remember what you told me before Jihoon dragged you away?” you curiously ask him.

You expect him to deny the memory or laugh at your sudden boldness, but he tells you that he knows better than to drink to the point where he blacks out and loses his memory. He would also like to stay true to his word, all of it.

“If you’re going to fuck in the kitchen, at least give us the waffles first,” Jun groans from the hallway.

DK winks at you in response, but you don’t know if he was referring to his second confession or if he promised the reality of his sexual fantasy. Before you can clarify, Jun appears in the kitchen, opening the dishwasher to grab a ceramic plate.

It shouldn’t be this confusing. DK told you that he liked you twice. You’re also pretty sure you like him. Nevertheless, it’s DK. He tends to joke around and switch from topic to topic. He throws words of affirmation at everybody he talks with. He confuses you even when you feel like you shouldn't be confused. 

“God Yn. You can’t be doing this to me.”

He sits upright, and his hands are positioned to his sides, tightly gripping his bedsheets.

You use his thighs as your support as you ride him, slowly bouncing up and down so he can watch his cock appear and disappear into your cunt.

You feel him twitching in you as you let soft moans float out of your mouth as you arch your back more and lean your head back toward the ceiling. You make sure you gyrate your hips switching between circular and back and forth motions as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock. He wonders how your soft mewls would break into staccato moans if you were to continuously bounce on him, letting lust cloud his thoughts.

Then you lean further backward, practically grinding on him. He feels your ass rub against his balls, and he does everything he can to restrain himself from rutting himself upwards into your cunt. He knows your thighs are tired as your breathing gets heavier and the way you grind against him gets messier. You sit on him, your whole body trembling and twitching from pleasure simply from the feeling of him fitting so snugly inside you. He feels so warm today, so good, stretching you nicely as you tell him all he needs to do is to sit there and look pretty. You reward him by sitting upright, guiding his hands from behind his back so they rest on your ass. He kneads them roughly, feeling your skin fill the spaces between his fingers.

Your ass cheeks feel sore, and you can’t stop panting when grind on him, rocking him so crudely that his bed begins to squeak. You bring a hand in front of you to start rubbing your nub, and high-pitched whimpers instantaneously escape your mouth. Your soft circular motions increase speed, attacking your soft flesh and making you forget he’s in you.

“Hng Seok,” your face is scrunched in pleasure, “Fucking myself feels so good.” You smirk at him as you ride out your high, knowing very well it would piss him off. You can tell he’s already a little upset you’re fucking him in cowgirl when he doesn’t get to do anything but sit there. 

Annoyed, he brings his right hand upwards and brings it down quickly against your ass. The crisp slap rings throughout his empty room, and he feels you clench around him as you gasp out loud. He slaps your ass again, finding deep pleasure in watching you pulse and quake around him and hearing you moan. 

You lift yourself slightly upwards, having regained some energy, and reach under you to grab the base of his shaft. You watch his face contort from annoyance to surprise to pleasure as you stroke him, squeezing and releasing incrementally as you simultaneously fuck his upper half. 

You can tell he is about to cum when he starts reaching for your face. He wants to make out with you, to dig his fingers into your back as you suck his neck. He moans your name, cavernous and gutturally, and tells you you’re doing so well. His sweet, sweet baby. The way you’re fucking him makes him go feral. 

Just then, there is a knock on his door, and he immediately pushes you off of him, practically hopping off his bed so he can run to his door barefooted and naked. He tells them to wait a minute as he’s wrapping something up. 

You sigh, quickly following behind him so you can hide in his closet, already used to having his residents show up out of the blue. You hand him his sweater and a pair of shorts before climbing into his closet and closing the doors behind you. 

You hear him open his door a minute later. You’re not sure what the topic of their conversation is as everything sounds muffled. You hear DK tell them that he has to grab a few things first, and then he’ll meet them in their room. He closes his front door and opens his closet. 

He looks worried. You observe it must be something important or an emergency as he doesn’t bother to make himself look presentable or deodorize the smell of sex lingering on his skin. He tells you he’s sorry and that he’ll try to be quick. He kisses you on the forehead before leaving with his stuff. However, he tells you you’re welcome to leave. And you sit there in his closet, alone and naked, the spot on your forehead burning. The motion-sensor lights in his bedroom turn themselves off, and you know you’re fucked by the way he gave you a choice to leave instead of telling you, begging you, finding stupid ways to get you to stay like he always does. 

Your feelings are hurt, and you’re pathetically close to tears. Why is it that every time you look at him or talk to him, it feels like you have to stop yourself from having your confession burst out of your mouth? “I like you” always feels like it’s sitting on the tip of your tongue, and you’re too scared to confess to him. 

It’s dark inside the closet, but you’ve been in his room enough times to know what’s hanging above you and sitting beside you. His business shirts are hanging above your head. On the other side of the closet, he has his pants. They’re organized by fabric type and colors. The jeans hang on the far right side of the closet. The sweats and athletic tights are next. Then he has his business pants. Dark colors are on the right, and light colors are on the left. His clothing hanger hooks are always hung over the closet rod, never under. Yet, at this moment, everything feels so foreign, like you’re a new person in a new place. But it’s because you are a different person now – a person who has fallen for their friends with benefits. 

The metal front door whirs and clicks open. You can hear the automatic lights flicker. He tells you he’s alone and that you can come out as he sees your stuff in his room. You’re not replying. 

“Shit Yn,” he opens his closet to find you still sitting in the dark closet, staring into nothing. “Aren’t you cold?”

You shake your head.

“Did you go pee? You should go pee,” he says expressionlessly. There’s not an ounce of care present in his suggestion.  

He leaves your side and stalks over to his bed, throwing himself on it. He loudly groans into a pillow to rid some of his stress. You can only climb out of the closet, your jaw clenched. “I like you! I like you a lot” is still in your mouth, taunting you, threatening to escape. 

“Is he done yet?”

“Bro he literally just started. Have a little more faith in Chan, okay?” you mumble at Jun while looking at your phone. You lock the screen and place your phone face down on the table.

Today is a day for firsts. It is the first time Jun and you are trying the café across the nice-looking residential building near campus. It’s the first time you try an iced mint mojito coffee when you usually have its alcoholic counterpart. It’s the first time Jun had a professor cancel class this semester. It’s also the first time Chan hooks up with somebody he met on the dating app Jun set up for him. It’s also the first time you’ll openly admit that Jun somehow has the most “game” compared to the three of you. Strange universe.

Jun knows something is bothering you. Your comebacks have become snarkier, yet you’ve been more lenient with whatever he does around you. He once told you to pay for the three of your dinners, and you passed him your credit card without saying anything. And it’s not like DK hasn’t been becoming less of the topic of your conversations - you’ve been quieter. And he doesn’t know what’s going on because he’s scared you might punch him. So he doesn’t ask you and only looks around the café’s nice interior, choosing to count the number of glossy white honeycomb tiles on the wall.

“How can you walk up to somebody and ask them out even though you don’t know them?” you blurt loudly at him out of the blue.

“Me?” Jun dumbly asks you. He already forgot the tile number he was on.

You nod your head while you bring your drink up to your lips.

He leans back into his chair and crosses his arms.

“You know how blunt I am.”

You nod your head, recounting all of the times he was called out for his bluntness.

“I think you already know how I can sometimes rub people off in the wrong way because I accidentally say things that I don’t mean. Sometimes people like you understand me and sometimes people don’t. I guess it’s like people liking you? Sometimes people will like my bluntness and sometimes it comes off in the wrong way. So I think it’s the same for liking people? You either like somebody or you don’t? So I’ll ask anybody out as long as I’m interested in them because the answer is always a simple yes or no.”

You’re so confused.

“You literally jumped from one topic to another. I literally could not follow you at all,” you blink.

“Well I’m sorry,” he throws his hands up in defeat. He’s not used to giving helpful advice nor is he used to having people go to him for advice. He wonders if he should start counting the number of chairs in the café.

He remembers an interaction he had in front of your apartment building last week. He was surprised that DK would call him and ask if he could meet him in front of your apartment. Jun told him that Yn is home and that he could just knock on your door, but DK unequivocally rejected his idea and told Jun to come. Jun saw him walking back in forth in front of your apartment building sign with a bunch of ugly roses in his hand, obviously stressed out of his mind. He asked him what was wrong.

“I dunno. I think they’ve been avoiding me for some reason,” DK tells Jun once he feels calmer with the older boy around him. 

“But they’re literally wilting, bro,” Jun tells DK with clear judgment in his voice. “Some of the petals are black. I’d avoid you if you gave me wilting roses,” he points at all the petals with darkened tips and wrinkles.

“Yn will like them,” DK insists. “They think they look cool like that.”

Jun brought them to your apartment for DK, not wanting to ask or press him for more information. Although, he would have to admit it was a bit confusing to have DK ask him to deliver the flowers for him. Albeit, you are pretty scary when you’re mad. You were pretty enthusiastic when you saw the flowers in his hand, but you immediately slammed the door on him when he told you they were from DK. However, you did open your door again to let him use your restroom.

“Do you like DK but you’re having trouble figuring out whether or not he likes you?” Jun cautiously approaches you with his question.

You nod and spill your troubles to your best friend. You tell him about the two times he told you he liked you and about the day you hid in his closet. You tell him about the roses – how he didn’t text you or leave you a card so that you don’t know why he bought the roses and why he couldn’t deliver them himself. You tell him about the “not a date” dates and how he calls you pet names.

Jun tells you it sounds confusing, but it’s actually pretty normal to fall for your friend with benefits especially if you have a strong emotional connection. That’s how normal people fall in love. He feels for you and understands how confusing it must be for you when the two of you have basically skipped the dating part and landed in the married for thirty years part of the relationship without being in a relationship.

“But isn’t it tiring have to hide?” he asks you. “How many times did you have to hide because of a resident? How many times did you have to fake not knowing him or not liking him whenever you saw somebody flirting with him?”

“Too many times,” you admit. It’s exhausting.

Jun only nods and grabs his set of keys from the café table. He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket, “Lemme buy you dessert while I pay for Chan’s ‘congrats on your first hook-up’ cake.”

You stare at your friend, “You aren’t going to give me helpful advice?” You’re dumbfounded.

“Who do I look like to you? Yahoo answers? Reddit? If you want helpful advice, suck it up and tell him that you need to talk to him and talk. It’s going to eat you alive before your future cats get to eat you.”

Fuck. Jun’s right.

Today is a weird day for firsts.

“But I literally just nutted,” DK tells you while you storm into his dorm.

He’s shirtless and is wearing those grey sweatpants that ride dangerously low on his hips. He looks like he just woke up from a nap, his hair messy and matted. A bottle of unscented lotion sits on his nightstand.

“Did you want to shower or do laundry with me later?” he asks you, letting his door shut behind him. He follows you to his bed. “Did you want to get dinner with me? We have a while until Chan’s night class ends. I know you usually wait for him so you can walk home with him.”

You sit on the edge of his bed and pat the space next to you, telling him to sit next to you. He sits next to you and looks at you with a worried expression.

“I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I have it in me to fuck right now unless you find a way to help me get it up,” he confesses while scratching the back of his ear. He’ll say anything to fill the awkward silence, but he’s glad to see you after being out of touch for a week.

He sees you frowning, and his breath hitches when you turn to him.

“You confuse me DK,” your voice wavers. “I like you so much, but you keep on sending me mixed signals by telling me you like me and then acting like nothing happened. And then you’re so kind to me, and you call me those names while constantly treating me like I’m in a relationship with you when I’m not.”

“Oh, Yn,” his lip quivers.

“You don’t understand how much I like you, how much I want to stop being friends with benefits with you. But you confuse me so much. Your kindness is confusing and I wish you were meaner so I wouldn’t have fallen for you…why are you crying?” you slap his bicep.

He flinches in pain from the slap because he’s still shirtless, but the tears keep running down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he cries while clutching his arm. “I thought I was being straightforward with my feelings, but I hurt you instead,” he wails, “I’ve started liking you longer than you could imagine.”

You don’t know how to react to him crying while confessing, so you awkwardly get up and walk over to his mini fridge to bring him one of his frozen sponge packs to ice his arm.

.

You kiss him back before closing his large metal dormitory door behind you. His keypad whirs and clicks its automatic lock into place, and you make your way to the hallway elevators, giddy on the inside.

You make your way past all the bright green dormitory doors and stop in front of the elevators. At the side of the elevator is the large classroom bulletin board with DK’s stupid laminated face smiling at you. This time the board is sky blue. You can recognize the clouds glued onto the board anywhere – they’re sheep repurposed into clouds from when he did the board about sleep facts. Hot air balloons decorate the board. Expensive cardstock letters spell the title: Love is in the air, and so are STDs! You snicker at the tiny rips in the blue background from students ripping off the taped condoms to use for themselves before stepping into the elevator.

Your phone in your pocket buzzes when you step out of the elevator and exit the dormitory. You pull out your phone while standing outside. It’s a text from DK. He says he’s been waiting for a while now, but he wants to be a bit selfish tonight. He asks you if you’re free this Friday night even though he knows your schedule like the back of his hand. He sends another text to let you know he’s horny again, but he missed you. A lot. 

Stepping to the side to let other residents in and out of the dorm, you make your way along the front of the dormitory so you stop under his window. You see him looking out to check if you made it out of the building. You wave at him and hold your phone up for him to see while giving him a thumbs up. He triumphs when he realizes you're agreeing to go on a real date with him, and you laugh when you see his figure disappear when he trips while jumping. He comes back to his window with a shirt on this time. He waves goodbye to you, and you wave back with a large smile on your face. This time the smile doesn’t drop. 

◡̈  apartment 5c

synopsis : when yn’s exchange student roommates leave, they are left with the unfortunate task of finding a new place to stay. lucky for them, a room just opened up at apartment 5c, complete with the most interesting group of people they could ever hope to meet.  pairing : svt 96 line x gn!reader  genre/s : university au, roommates au, fluff, tiniest bit of angst (maybe), slice of life, humor

episode 03 : housewarming party !!

◡̈  part 02 fun fact !!  the hashtag # partyat5c did actually trend for about a couple of minutes, but it was mostly just a bunch of very drunk college kids spamming the tag with absolute nonsense

previous  ➤  episode three, part one  next  ➤ episode three, part three apartment 5c  ➤  masterlist

from reese, with love <3 can u tell ’m trying to get the love interest part of this story going sdfghjkl anyways, hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing..as always, i’d love to know what you think + hope you are taking care of yourself :D

i saw this smug zhongli edit and i couldn’t help myself lol

three’s a crowd [m]

pairing: haechan x jeno x f!reader

wc: 3.5k

summary: maybe you can have your cake and eat it too, although your friends certainly don’t make it easy.

notes: established relationship!haechan meets bff!jeno, college!au, sub!reader, threesome hijinks, slight exhibitionism, unprotected piv sex, oral (f and m receiving), spanking, cumplay, breeding, thigh fucking, slight degradation/dirty talk, embarrassing banter, mentions of alcohol

it’s not one of your finest moments, you think, when your top is off and haechan’s hand is up your skirt, and the door is just open enough to reveal a very stunned jeno.

if only any of you were drunk enough to have this be a distant memory in the morning—unfortunately, you learned too late that your faith in mark’s intuition was sorely misplaced when he showed up with half a handle of seltzers and the remnants of what looked like a world war 2 era vodka bottle.

worse, all it took was one sad blackberry white claw (that you split with haechan), a handful of risky texts, and mark passing out on the couch after one and a half shots to find yourself in the unfortunate position of being half-naked in your best friend’s bedroom.

“oh my god, jeno—,” you hiss urgently, but his deer in the headlights gaze does not waver.

your back is pressed against haechan’s chest and your legs tucked behind his to keep them spread—even if you wanted to shoo jeno away and shut the door you couldn’t.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” haechan whispers. he nips at your earlobe between words. “this ok with you?”

you feel jeno’s eyes burning holes into you (or your panties), and for some reason your brain has been astoundingly silent when it comes to even thinking about telling him to go.

jeno stands there, broad chest rising with another shaky breath, all flushed with his pupils blown out, and you’re coming to terms with the fact that, yes, there is something inexplicably hot about watching your best friend watch you get off.

you nod (perhaps a little too enthusiastically), and that’s all haechan needs to proceed.

a threesome is something you’ve all talked about before, and although you’d have preferred it to be much different (perhaps not on the goddamn ground, for starters), something about the impromptu nature of it all has your blood running hotter than normal.

haechan continues working you over, movements deliberate—he wants jeno to watch. his fingertips brush over the thin panel of fabric covering your cunt, dragging just enough to make you dizzy, as he kisses the side of your neck.

you’re not sure whether it’s the graze of haechan’s teeth over your pulse or the way you cannot seem to break eye contact with jeno, but your mind is everywhere and nowhere at once.

your resolve finally breaks when he pushes your panties aside (soaked) to lazily press on your clit.

“ah, shit,” you breathe, unable to stop your thighs from shaking and hips from bucking up into his hand.

another helpless moan, and jeno drops his empty seltzer can, something you would laugh at if you weren’t fighting the pathetic urge to cum just from some heavy petting.

“fuck,” he groans. it comes from his chest, a gravelly, deep sound, and even hearing it makes your toes curl.

“you just gonna stand there and watch?” haechan looks up from the littering of marks on your shoulder to meet jeno’s eyes. “look, i’d ask you out to dinner first before we all fuck, but i figure you’re more of a dessert guy?”

you fight the need to throttle your boyfriend for his inability to read the room, but he doesn’t stop playing with your clit, something he is regrettably very good at.

“yeah. fuck.” jeno’s sweatpants drop so fast they might as well be made of lead. you can see the outline of his dick through his briefs, and you wonder how big it is, how it would feel in your guts.

complicating things, haechan is now shallowly pumping a few fingers in you, taking care to press the heel of his palm into your swollen clit.

“haechan, fuck,” you moan, grinding into his hand. “i’m gonna cum—”

then he stops.

“aww, so fast. baby can’t handle the thought of being fucked in both holes, huh? getting all tight around me just thinking about it?”

haechan pulls his fingers out to slap your cunt, really just a few mean pats, but you’re so wound up, your whole body locks up and a pitiful whimper is ripped from your throat. he’s right, the only thing you want is to be split open right now, and the fake pity in his voice is doing crazy things to the building ache in your pussy.

“jeno,” haechan starts. “do you wanna taste?” he nips at your earlobe. “how’s that sound, baby? you want him to make you cum?”

“y-yes,” you plead. jeno stands there and blinks at you. “yes, now please hurry the fuck up.”

you think you can actually physically feel your life force dwindle away every three seconds it takes for jeno to undo a button on his mile-long button up shirt.

it’s some combination of the sheer desperation in your voice and the sight of your cunt, all slick and puffy from your arousal, that breaks jeno. (or maybe it’s the way haechan laughs, clearly enjoying watching two embarrassingly horny people try to get anything done.)

“fuck it.” jeno pulls his still half-buttoned shirt over his head and gets on his knees. oh my god, lee jeno is on his knees, but you barely have time to process anything else before things roll into motion.

haechan grabs your thighs and holds them spread, blunt nails digging into your soft skin. you feel the cold air on your cunt, the wetness dripping onto the ground. you’re shaking with anticipation and right now there is nothing more you want than for jeno to eat you out.

the first touch of his tongue to your pussy sends your back arching so hard you almost pull a muscle, and you cry out.

“fucking dirty, huh? you like watching yourself getting eaten out by your best friend?” haechan asks in a low voice, moving his hands up from your legs to play with your tits, giving them a hard squeeze.

“m-mmhm—” you can’t move; you’re caged between these two bodies, and all you can do is take the pleasure as it comes to you like a speeding train.

you’re a moaning mess, your hands tangled in jeno’s hair as he licks your cunt dry. you’re bucking into his face, but he grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer to him. he’s so eager, you can’t decide if he’s just experienced or if doing this to you has ever crossed his mind, but both possibilities make you a little dizzy.

as if he’s read your mind, haechan starts, “she’s so mean, huh, jeno?” jeno kisses your clit at about the same time haechan bites your collarbone, and you twitch pathetically in haechan’s firm embrace. “my baby’s getting all worked up from seeing you on your knees, knowing you can’t have her?”

jeno nods fervently but never once unseals his mouth from your cunt, and you just might positively cry.

you feel his tongue first in your slit, lapping shallowly at your walls, and his nose bumps your clit; the dual stimulation makes you teary-eyed with pleasure. then, he moves to suck the bud, and a finger prods at your entrance before pushing in. he’s shy, but the literal intensity he’s eating you out with is giving you a near out of body experience.

“fuck, jeno, you’re so—fuck,” you groan, head lolled to the side as he finger fucks you. “take notes, haechan,” you heave in between breaths, and, knowing you, he scoffs in reply (rightly so. it’s almost terrifying how he seems to know your pussy better than you.) and rolls your nipples between his fingers. it’s such a small thing, but you swear the sensation goes straight down to your core.

“more, more,” you beg, hurtling towards a second orgasm.

“she has the audacity to ask after saying that?” you can easily visualize your boyfriend rolling his eyes, but you choose to focus on the telltale smile he presses to your cheek instead.

anyhow, you’re lucky jeno’s nicer than haechan—he immediately complies, adding a second digit. his fingers feel so thick in you, and you savor every moment of it. the pads of his fingers drag against your walls as they curl nicely, adding to the building pressure in your stomach.

it doesn’t help how he moans every time you jerk into him, and you truly feel powerless in the best way possible.

haechan watches intently, and you can tell he’s enjoying the show even if he’s not participating much in it. his cock is rock hard, pressed up against your back, and it’s driving you crazy how you want to fuck both men so bad.

“jeno, i’m—” he knows even before you get the words out, and he pumps two fingers in you, tongue flicking your bud. and you cum, hips arching and voice almost raw from moaning.

he sits up to kiss you, more tenderly than you’ve ever imagined, and you melt in it.

it’s no secret that you had the biggest crush on him when you were kids, back when you were neighbors. he was the boy next door of every girl’s dreams, and it certainly didn’t help how he, as loyal as ever, spent nearly every second of every summer by your side.

of course, as times changed and feelings faded, you both quickly realized things worked much better as friends (to both your mothers’ dismay). somehow, jeno predicted you and haechan falling in love before either of you ever saw it coming.

(you remember it clearly. no one ever argues that much! he had said in his characteristically level voice, although his sheer conviction admittedly terrified you. and in true best friend fashion, when he eventually was proven very right, he made you buy him a milkshake.)

now, as you savor the almost ethereal sight of jeno wiping your cum off his chin, you now know sometimes you can have your cake and eat it too.

“got more left in you?” haechan asks nicely, but you know it’s more of a command. “hope you’re ready to take two cocks at once.”

you’re still catching your breath, but it seems your body has already decided, as you nod quickly. “only one way to find out,” you croak. “but can we please do it on the bed?” haechan laughs at your insistence, but it’s the warm, melty, the in love kind of laugh.

“spoiled, are we?” is his reply, but both men help you up onto the bed. and it’s a goddamn blessing no one is thinking straight enough to notice that you’re about to get railed on the sheets your childhood crush sleeps on.

your cheeks are colored with both humiliation and anticipation as you settle on all fours—you’re really letting your cunt take charge, but who can blame you?

it seems haechan is being generous today, and he positions his cock between your lips and lets jeno kneel behind you.

“ready?” he asks you quietly, tipping your chin up with an index finger. it’s almost intimate, tender, save for the fact you are about to be fucked in two holes.

instead of answering, you lean forward and take his cock in your mouth, at first shallowly to tease him a little. the weight is warm and familiar on your tongue, and you suck hard around his weeping cockhead.

“shit, fuck,” haechan groans, carding a hand through his hair.

jeno doesn’t miss a beat. he slides his cock in between your pussy lips a few times for prep before you feel him push in first slowly, then all at once.

your eyes roll back into your head. fuck, you knew jeno was big—but not that big.

you moan around haechan’s dick, and he pushes right back into your throat, causing you to gag.

“aw, shit, sorry,” haechan says, tucking your hair behind your ears and moving his hands to cradle your cheeks. “jeno, what are you waiting for? don’t you know how to treat a lady?”

“actually,” jeno starts. he’s trying to sound casual, but you hear the grit of his teeth as you pulse around him. “i was going to ask you the same thing. how is she so fucking tight if you guys fuck all the time?”

he rocks out and then in again, still shallowly as you adjust to his girth. you swear you can feel every goddamn vein on his dick with how he’s splitting you open.

you don’t want to stop sucking haechan off, but you are seriously wrecked—something about jeno’s voice is dark, dangerous, and you really want to cum again.

“jeno, please,” you finally say, trying not to sound too desperate.

and so he fucks into you properly, hips slamming into your ass and hands digging into your sides, enough to bruise. those damn soccer players, you briefly think, but he makes sure even that thought is fucked out of you.

the momentum has you mouth fucking haechan, who has his eyes wrenched shut in pleasure. you can’t take your eyes off him—he’s so pretty, moaning loud as you suck him off hard.

“he’s ruining my view,” jeno tells you, jerking a thumb at haechan.

“fuck you,” he replies. “never inviting you to a threesome again.”

and you would deeply resent the fact that it’s not just haechan who can’t read the room if you weren’t grateful you still had the wherewithal to laugh for a brief moment before you keen in pleasure again.

it seems like jeno’s close, with the way he’s fucking you more erratically. your throat squeezes around haechan as you struggle to keep a lid on your moans; every time you take him down that far, you feel the glorious feeling of his hands wrenching up in your your hair, hear the voice you love so much.

jeno’s quick and dirty—when you feel his dick twitch in you as he gets closer, he reaches between your thighs and presses your clit ever so softly.

“oh fuck, jeno, fuck, fuck,” you cry out as haechan’s dick slides out of your mouth with a slick pop. he sits back on his feet and lazily strokes himself, content with watching you get railed hard.

“close?” jeno asks, applying more pressure to your clit. he slows his pace, instead deciding to fuck you deep and hard.

you hang your head, thighs shaking and voice quivering. “so close, jeno— please—” blinking through teary eyes, you watch haechan’s hand twist over his cock so expertly, and you revel how he also takes pleasure in how utterly fucked out jeno’s cock has made you.

with another careful touch to your clit, jeno sends you over again, dick hard against your walls and moving so slowly you can feel every inch of it. you cum so hard, he groans when you clench around him, and he cums like this too and fucks you through both your orgasms.

“h-haechan, it’s so much,” you moan, gripping at the sheets with white knuckles.

“yeah? jeno, fill her up,” haechan orders, and god, it’s so good, so warm and wet and sloppy in your spent pussy.

you’re shaking, and you can feel jeno’s cum leaking out of your hole as his dick slides out. “haechan...” you manage. “you didn’t cum.”

you look up, only to see him smiling. “oh, you didn’t think we were done yet, did you?”

you swallow hard.

“watch and learn, jeno.” haechan positions himself behind you.

jeno, already satisfied and basking in the warmth of his orgasm, is content with laying back against the headrest and watching (how does he still look like a greek god?).

first haechan grabs a fistful of your hair, then pushes you into the sheets. you can’t help but whimper a bit. he’s been rough before—but something tells you he wants to put on a real show.

and then you feel his other hand come down hard on your ass.

“fuck,” you moan into the pillow. you’ve cummed twice now, but your hole clenches in anticipation. you feel more cum leak out of your hole and onto the bed. there’s more on the apex of your thighs, warm and milky and sticky.

“jeno, you seeing this?” haechan asks, horribly confident grin plastered on his face.

“fuck—” jeno’s hand finds his cock again, and he starts playing with himself.

he slaps your ass again, and you keen into the sheets. then his hand rubs over your skin, hot and smarting, and it takes everything you have not to lean up into his touch.

haechan slides his dick between your lips, coating it with cum. “you wanna get filled up, huh? walk home with cum down your legs?”

“p-please...need you to cum in me.” you’re humiliated, this is absolutely mortifying. the words just fall out of your mouth without a second thought, but part of you loves it, and you know your boyfriend does too. and jeno is staring so hard, you’re surprised no one’s told him to take a picture so it lasts longer.

with your head in the sheets and your hole literally dripping, he fucks you. hard. harder than jeno, who seemed to retain a bit of romance and apprehension.

you cry out, muffled by the pillow.

“he said i don’t fuck you hard enough,” haechan says to you, jaw clenched. “what do you think?”

you can’t even form a complete sentence, and you just whine into the pillow. your voice comes out in bursts, like he’s knocking the sound out of you.

haechan would never let you forget how good he is with his hips, and with every time he draws back and fucks into you, you swear you’ve never felt anything better.

“fuck, you’re still so tight,” he swears. “bet you like this, huh, slut? just a fucking cocksleeve for us?”

“mm—mhm—”

then he pulls you up by your hair, and your back arches up, causing his dick to angle so good against your walls, hitting your g-spot just right.

“fuck—yes, yes,” you gasp. “please please please please—”

“what’re you asking for, honey?” haechan asks, cruelly pulling out to fuck his cockhead between your thighs, all sloppy with cum. “what do you think she wants, jeno?”

you glance over and see jeno stroking himself off, eyes transfixed on you. and unlike anything you had ever thought possible, he leans forward to clasp your jaw in his big hand. the added weight alone parts your lips slightly, and all you can do is gaze back at him with your glazed over eyes as you feel haechan’s rock hard cock fuck itself between your legs.

“use your words,” he tells you, thumb pressing right on your tongue so you can feel him. and you pray, pray, no one ever talks about this day again because you whine so loud, you think you might as well have woken mark up from his coma on the couch.

“f-fill me up,” you babble. “need your cock, channie.” and the second jeno takes his palm out from under your chin, you buckle back into the sheets with the impact of haechan bottoming out into you.

“fuck, you’re already knocked up with jeno’s cum. can you take another load? huh?”

“y-yes, yes.” you close your eyes tightly, bracing for another orgasm. his dick is swallowed by your fluttering walls, all you feel is tight, warm, and messy for him.

“so fucking good for me, huh? pussy’s gonna look so pretty all plugged up, fuck.”

you take a hazy glance to your side and see jeno’s hips canting up into his fist. you think about how his dick is covered in you and it sends sparks to your cunt.

you can tell haechan is close too, as his rhythm falls apart and he just fucks you deep and hard.

“kiss me,” you breathe, propping yourself up on your forearms to look back at haechan. through the waves of pleasure rocking through your body, you can even admire him now, his broad chest and the way he looks at you with such devotion.

and when he leans towards you, desperate and eager with love, to seal your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy, it offers jeno a glimpse of what your relationship is like. haechan moans into your mouth, submitting easily to your touch, and you can hear jeno’s cry when he cums on his chest (the damn hopeless romantic).

but you’re no better, and as haechan catches your bottom lip between his teeth, you both hit your high, and you feel his cum shoot up into your hole. it’s so warm and wet feeling, and you wonder if it’ll feel like that for days.

you collapse onto your stomach. walking seems like a distant dream, and your entire lower body feels like wet jello. but it doesn’t matter, because haechan plants a kiss on the top of your head and all feels right in the world.

“where are you going?” you croak as you feel jeno’s weight leave the bed.

“i’m getting you a wet towel. you guys can stay here and keep being all gross or whatever.” jeno slips his briefs on and opens the bedroom door. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

“still uninvited from the next threesome,” haechan calls after him, laughing when jeno merely flips him off in reply.

you’re drifting in and out of what just might be the fattest nap of your life when you hear mark holler from downstairs.

“shit man, where’d your clothes go?!”

jeno doesn’t respond.

“what the fuck did i miss!”

you and haechan can only laugh.