Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a normal movie night.
At least as normal as it could get when Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja were involved—a pair that oscillated between rivalrous antics and inexplicable companionship. The living room couch was the battleground of their latest escapade, and Kim Dokja was scrutinizing Netflix like it held the secrets to the universe, while Yoo Joonghyuk slouched beside him, deep in a moral quandary that could only arise from choosing between a rom-com and a horror flick.
“Fine, not a rom-com,” Kim Dokja said with a sigh that seemed to pull at the couch cushions in a collective groan. He glanced at Yoo Joonghyuk like an exasperated babysitter watching over a petulant child.
Yoo Joonghyuk ignored the comment, his gaze fixated rather intently on Kim Dokja’s shoulder, which was inexplicably clad in a sleeveless shirt. There was something oddly alluring about it—the shoulder, that is. His mind stumbled through a muddle of emotions: was it desire? Frustration? Or maybe just the residual effects of the cookies-n-cream ice cream they’d decimated moments ago with the ferocity of starving piranhas?
But seriously, what was up with this guy? No wonder Kim Dokja had half a mind to change the channel to an infomercial about sales on single-serve blenders.
“Seriously, what’s gotten into you today?” Kim Dokja asked, eyes glued to the television as if it was the last light on Earth before total darkness descended.
That was when it happened.
In a burst of lunacy that could only be described as ‘totally expected given their track record,’ Yoo Joonghyuk suddenly leaned in and bit Kim Dokja’s shoulder.
“MMPHHFGHBH!” Kim Dokja screamed, sounding like an enchanted goat mid-yodel.
In the chaos, his phone flew from his grip and plunged into the popcorn bowl with a splash, sending kernels flying like they were part of some bizarre popcorn confetti party.
“YOO JOONGHYUK, WHAT THE—”
But there was no turning back. Yoo Joonghyuk refused to let go. He clung to Kim Dokja’s shoulder like a stubborn toddler refusing to leave a playground.
“WHY ARE YOU BITING ME?! DID YOU SKIP DINNER?! ARE YOU A SEXY, UNDERCOVER CANNIBAL?!”
Yoo Joonghyuk muffled something that sounded distinctly like ‘you looked delicious’—a phrase that hung in the air like the ominous note of the ‘braiiiinssss’ trope.
“Did you just say ‘you looked delicious’? IS THIS A WEIRD PICK-UP LINE?!”
Kim Dokja’s eyes went wide, oscillating dramatically between disbelief and whatever level of horrified intrigue one might expect to witness at a monster truck rally. Finally, Yoo Joonghyuk released his vice-like grip, teeth leaving behind an oddly impressive dent in Kim Dokja’s shoulder that made it seem as if he were now wearing a feral badge of honor.
His expression was one of a grumpy puppy longing for a walk, “Blacked out for a second.”
“BLACKED OUT?! So your fight-or-flight response is biting people?!” Kim Dokja cradled his now-turned-into-the-next-Michelin-star shoulder like it had been mauled by an unusually enthusiastic raccoon, “Do I need to call the CDC? Or a priest?!”
“Look,” Yoo Joonghyuk grumbled, now squirming away, “I read somewhere that physical contact releases endorphins. I panicked and went for the first thing I could think of.”
Kim Dokja blinked, utterly stunned.
“First of all, that’s not how endorphins work. Second of all, are you trying to bond with me or eat me?! This isn’t Shark Week!”
In the immediate aftermath, Kim Dokja paced the room like a lion in a cage, ranting at speeds that could outrun a cheetah, while Yoo Joonghyuk lounged on the couch, looking as bored as a cat listening to a lecture about quantum physics.
“I thought you were normal!” Kim Dokja exclaimed, dramatically waving his arms, “Well, not normal-normal, because nobody with abs that nice and hair that perfect is actually normal, but I didn’t think you’d have feral tendencies!”
Yoo Joonghyuk adjusted his position, leaning back casually as he raised an eyebrow.
“Not feral, just spontaneous affection,” He retorted, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.
“SPONTANEOUS AFFECTION?! You bit me like I was a McNugget!” Kim Dokja flailed his arms as if trying to take flight.
Yoo Joonghyuk’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “...You’re the best kind of McNugget.”
Kim Dokja threw a pillow at him.
Later, once the chaos had settled into a soft, awkward silence, Kim Dokja had slapped an ice pack on his shoulder for dramatic effect while they sat on the couch like two strangers on a subway who had just accidentally made eye contact. One of them was wondering if it was too late to get off at the next stop.
“You could’ve just, I don’t know, hugged me,” He muttered, still pouting.
“Yeah, well, hindsight is 20/20,” Yoo Joonghyuk shot back, clearly enjoying the discomfort emanating from Kim Dokja. Then, after a pause that felt longer than a sleep-deprived meeting, he added, “...Did you hate it?”
Kim Dokja turned to glare at him, the intensity of his gaze rivaling that of a thousand suns, “What kind of question is that?!”
“Seriously,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, an infuriating smirk spreading across his face like frosting on a poorly baked cake, “You’re still sitting here. You didn’t storm off or kick me out. So… did you hate it?”
Kim Dokja felt his face heat up—an internal furnace ignited by embarrassment and maybe a spark of something else. He slammed his hands over his face, hiding from the world like a kid playing hide-and-seek but forgetting what to do after counting to ten.
“I hate how your dumb face is making me overthink this.”
Yoo Joonghyuk’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying this whole debacle a bit too much.
Kim Dokja threw another pillow at him.
On a particularly ordinary day in a universe where slicing bread wrong was still seen as a daring act, Kim Dokja rolled his eyes so hard that they nearly slipped into the back of his skull. He was seated on the ancient couch that squeaked every time someone dared to sit down—a couch that had witnessed more dramas than a soap opera marathon.
“Why do these people always kiss like they’re trying to vacuum seal a bag of chips?” He muttered to himself, fumbling with the remote as if it were a defusing bomb.
Meanwhile, Yoo Joonghyuk lounged next to him with the confidence of a man who ordered a double cheeseburger at a vegan joint.
“That’s how you know it’s genuine,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, leaning in with the suave of a television detective, all dark and brooding, except he looked like he just rolled out of bed. Which, knowing him, was probably the case. “Besides, you’re missing the point—it's all about the passion.”
“Passion?” Kim Dokja snorted, “You mean like the passion of the Christ? Because watching these two has me feeling like I’m witnessing a crucifixion. I’m just saying, if I wanted to see people struggle like that, I’d just watch my plants die again.”
Yoo Joonghyuk ignored this entirely and leaned in closer, something akin to determination glinting in his eyes, prompting Kim Dokja’s heart to start a punk rock concert in his chest. And this was the awkward side of their living arrangement. You could hear a pin drop, or perhaps hear the sitcom laughter track repeating, but no, this was serious.
“You’re not going to bite me, right?” Kim Dokja asked, holding his breath like a child in a game of dodgeball.
“Only if you beg for it,” Yoo Joonghyuk countered, leaning in dramatically, which, to Kim Dokja’s surprise, wasn’t meant to be a joke. So he panicked and prepared his defense stance—he could still revoke consent, right?
Then, without warning, Yoo Joonghyuk moved in for a kiss, and the couch made a sound eerily reminiscent of a ship creaking into a storm. Lips met, and for a split second, it was everything: fierce, passionate, and, well, effectively reminiscent of two cats trying to fit into a single cat tree. Yet, within that chaotic symphony, something about it was beautiful, like a classical piece being played on a kazoo.
Kim Dokja’s heart raced like a cheetah who had just seen a lion—the moment was encapsulated in chaos, blossoming unpredictably. In a stunning twist of events, Yoo Joonghyuk’s enthusiasm turned into an impromptu lip nibble.
Kim Dokja pulled back, eyes wide, “Seriously?”
Yoo Joonghyuk smirked, “Some habits are hard to break.”
Notes:
I don’t do crack fics as much, so I’m not sure how this turned out. If it’s any consolation, my best friend bites me randomly and that’s what inspired this, so kudos to her.
Do I turn this into a series or what? If so, any fresh ideas you guys have?
Kindly inform me of any spelling and/or grammatical mistakes. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
Chapter 2: Kim Dokja’s Eternal Struggle (Edited)
Summary:
“This is... absurd,” He muttered, poking at a bruise that could only be described as modern art. It was suspiciously shaped like a half-eaten watermelon, complete with a juicy bite missing. “If I were a fruit stand, I’d be a five-star attraction: ‘4 stars. A juicy shoulder for all your biting needs.’ Honestly, where’s my Yelp review?”
Notes:
EDITED VERSION! I changed the wording and made it clear how Kim Dokja actually felt about the whole situation. It came off wrong in the previously unedited version, and since I have no reference for actual loving relationships (my one friendship hanging on a thread with the only singular friend I have notwithstanding), so I think I made it a bit too serious, without being able to convey the epic exaggeration that Kim Dokja was conveying in his thoughts lol. This is an improved version! And I will post another chapter with Yoo Joonghyuk’s point of view too, just to make things clear and for my lovely reader, Moreta, asking for it politely!
Inspired by the comment of Moreta, a lovely reader who commented on the previous chapter and gave me this idea:
“Well... You could add a part of handling the bites aftereffects. I mean, not even breaking the skin the bites might leave lasting marks (observing on myself: healing times on bruising up to three months)”I’m not sure if this turned out satisfactory as the plot ran from me and wrote itself, so I hope it’s at least enjoyable!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
[Two Months Later]
Kim Dokja stood in front of the bathroom mirror, inspecting the latest set of bite marks on his shoulder with a level of exasperation that could only come from long-term exposure to Yoo Joonghyuk’s... unique expressions of affection.
“This is... absurd,” He muttered, poking at a bruise that could only be described as modern art. It was suspiciously shaped like a half-eaten watermelon, complete with a juicy bite missing. “If I were a fruit stand, I’d be a five-star attraction: ‘4 stars. A juicy shoulder for all your biting needs.’ Honestly, where’s my Yelp review?”
This wasn’t a cry for help, of course. Kim Dokja wasn’t the kind of person to suffer in silence if he were actually being mistreated—he had learned the consequences of staying silent regarding situations like that way too early in his life. No, this was just Yoo Joonghyuk being Yoo Joonghyuk—unapologetically strange and, apparently, very bite-y.
He wasn’t even sure why Yoo Joonghyuk did this.
“Does he have a werewolf gene that activates out of boredom?” Kim Dokja mused aloud, “Or did he read some terrible self-help book titled Biting for Dummies: How to Get Closer to Your Partner? Maybe he just watched Twilight one too many times and decided this was how romance worked.”
The truth was probably closer to the last one.
Yoo Joonghyuk, for all his stoic appearances, had a flair for the dramatic. The biting had continued religiously a few months ago, not as some grand act of dominance, but because Yoo Joonghyuk had looked Kim Dokja dead in the eyes one night and said, completely deadpan, “I wanted to see if you’d notice.”
Of course, Kim Dokja noticed. He wasn’t exactly made of stone. But rather than express normal human confusion, he had muttered something vaguely sarcastic about boundaries, and Yoo Joonghyuk had smirked. The smirk was all it took.
From then on, biting became... a thing. A weird, oddly affectionate thing.
“The most likely explanation,” Kim Dokja muttered to himself now, “Is that Yoo Joonghyuk is in the middle of a very specific identity crisis where he thinks biting is his love language.”
But the real question, the one that kept him up at night, was: Why did the bite marks last so long?!
It was like an unspoken agreement—every time they got within five feet of each other, Yoo Joonghyuk would inevitably lean in and take a bite, grinning in that infuriating way of his. And the marks just lingered. They didn’t fade like normal bruises. They stayed there, a reminder of Yoo Joonghyuk’s baffling sense of humor and, dare he say, affection.
He’d brought it up once, mostly out of curiosity.
“Why do these last so long?” Kim Dokja had asked, flinging his shirt off dramatically.
Yoo Joonghyuk, as always, had delivered his answer with the solemnity of a man revealing the secrets of the universe. “Because you’re weak,” He said, almost gently. Then, after a pause, “Also, it’s fun.”
Kim Dokja had stared at him for a full ten seconds before responding. “What kind of logic...?”
But Yoo Joonghyuk just smirked and walked away, leaving Kim Dokja to ponder how his life had turned into a very unconventional romance novel.
He’d considered calling for backup, maybe filing a formal complaint with the universe. But then he remembered: Yoo Joonghyuk was always like this. This wasn’t about power or malice. This was his boyfriend’s idea of fun. As much as Kim Dokja hated to admit it, there was no malice behind the biting.
If anything, Yoo Joonghyuk seemed weirdly proud of his handiwork.
“These bruises,” Kim Dokja said aloud, inspecting them in the mirror, “Are his version of a Hallmark card. Confusing, painful, and entirely unnecessary.” He sighed, “At least I don’t need to guess if he’s paying attention to me.”
Standing there in that cramped bathroom, Kim Dokja chuckled. For all the absurdity of it, he couldn’t deny that this was just... them. Yoo Joonghyuk wasn’t exactly the flowers-and-chocolates type. He was the bite-your-shoulder-and-call-it-affection type. If this was what love looked like—bizarre, unconventional, and a little ridiculous—Kim Dokja could live with it.
After all, who needed sweet, lovey-dovey kisses when you could have a human bruise machine with impeccable comedic timing?
[Morning Routine]
“Yoo Joonghyuk,” Kim Dokja said flatly, already exhausted from the very mutual yet increasingly bizarre daily routine that was their relationship. His tone was weary, the sound of someone who had spent the last two months trying to figure out whether his boyfriend’s biting habit was born out of affection or sheer chaos. “We need to talk about this weird habit of yours. I thought it was just a phase, but it’s been two months.”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t immediately respond.
Instead, he continued gnawing on Kim Dokja’s shoulder like it was a particularly underwhelming snack. It wasn’t malicious, nor was it even particularly aggressive—it was more like watching a cat ‘attack’ its owner’s hand during playtime. Kim Dokja had long since accepted this strange dynamic, though not without his trademark sarcasm.
“Yoo Joonghyuk!” Kim Dokja repeated, louder this time, adding just the right amount of exasperation to his voice, the kind that only comes from deep affection layered with frustration, “Can you stop treating my shoulder like a chew toy for five seconds?”
Finally, Yoo Joonghyuk released his grip with all the grace of a toddler reluctantly letting go of their favorite stuffed animal. He looked completely unbothered, his lips slightly damp, like someone who’d just had a very satisfying snack.
“What?” Yoo Joonghyuk asked, his expression perfectly neutral, as if being accused of shoulder-gnawing was just part of his morning routine.
Kim Dokja took a deep breath, doing his best to suppress the growing urge to launch into a melodramatic monologue. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked, his voice colored with equal parts confusion and amusement, like someone who had just discovered their cat could unlock doors but only to raid the fridge.
Yoo Joonghyuk blinked at him, his face the picture of faux innocence.
“I’m showing affection,” He replied, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Affection?” Kim Dokja repeated, raising an eyebrow so hard it could’ve detached from his face, “Most couples exchange sweet gestures, like hugs, or, I don’t know, chocolates—”
“I don’t like chocolates,” Yoo Joonghyuk interrupted, his tone grave, as if this were some deeply philosophical truth.
Kim Dokja froze, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of that statement. “Biting is your replacement for chocolates?”
“It’s more intimate,” Yoo Joonghyuk said, completely serious.
Kim Dokja stared at him, caught between disbelief and begrudging admiration for the sheer absurdity of the logic. “You’re insane,” He muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed the faintest hint of a smile.
“Probably,” Yoo Joonghyuk agreed without hesitation, sipping his coffee as if they were discussing the weather.
Kim Dokja sighed, rubbing the latest crescent-shaped bruise on his shoulder. “Do you even realize how this makes me look?” He muttered, “People are going to think I’ve been attacked by a werewolf. Or a very committed vampire. Or both.”
“Good,” Yoo Joonghyuk said simply, as if that were a perfectly reasonable outcome.
“Good?” Kim Dokja repeated, his voice hitting an octave reserved exclusively for moments of peak exasperation, “What part of good applies here? My shoulder looks like a modern art exhibit, and I’m one step away from starting a blog about your unhinged love language.”
“You’re overthinking it,” Yoo Joonghyuk replied calmly, as though the problem was Kim Dokja’s melodrama and not the fact that he was dating someone who regularly left bite marks on him.
Kim Dokja threw his hands in the air. “Overthinking? Overthinking?! Yoo Joonghyuk, I look like I got into a fistfight with a very determined toddler who brought teeth to a fistfight!”
Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t even flinch. “You’ll survive.”
“Barely,” Kim Dokja muttered under his breath, though his complaints were more performative than serious. The truth was, as much as he liked to complain about it, he knew Yoo Joonghyuk’s biting habit wasn’t rooted in malice or some deep-seated issue—it was just... him. Strange, unorthodox, and ridiculously stubborn.
And, annoyingly, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but find it endearing in a weird, exasperating way.
He sighed again, resigned to his fate. “You know, you could just say you love me instead of leaving bruises everywhere. That’s how normal people do it.”
Yoo Joonghyuk glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. “I don’t like normal.”
Kim Dokja groaned, already anticipating another shoulder full of teeth marks tomorrow morning. “Clearly.”
Still, despite the ridiculousness of it all, he couldn’t entirely suppress the warmth bubbling beneath his frustration. This was Yoo Joonghyuk, after all—eccentric, frustrating, and occasionally infuriating. And as much as Kim Dokja grumbled about it, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
Not that he’d admit it, of course. Not out loud.
[One Week Later: “Casual” Dinner Date]
Kim Dokja tried—he really tried—to ignore the dull ache in his shoulder as he sat across from Yoo Joonghyuk at the coffee table they’d repurposed as a dinner table. It was a tragic centerpiece to their equally tragic living room, which looked less like a home and more like the aftermath of a survival show where the contestants gave up halfway through.
Their so-called dinner dates weren’t about romance; they were about survival, mostly of Kim Dokja’s patience. Tonight’s ‘meal’ was one of his culinary masterpieces, which was to say it resembled something that might be illegal in most countries. Still, he was determined to eat it—if only to prove a point to himself and the universe.
But, of course, the universe had other plans.
Just as he was lifting his fork, Yoo Joonghyuk—who clearly had no regard for personal space or timing—leaned over and bit his shoulder. Again.
Kim Dokja froze. The fork clattered to the table with the dramatic finality of a sword dropped by a weary knight.
“Are you serious right now?” He exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder as if the act could undo the latest bite mark.
Yoo Joonghyuk stared at him, unbothered, his expression a perfect blend of innocence and I don’t see the problem.
“What?” He asked, as if the whole thing were perfectly normal.
Kim Dokja gaped at him, “What do you mean, what? We’re literally on a date. A date! Do you know what that means? It means normal people eat their food and talk about their feelings, not—” He gestured wildly at his shoulder, the universal sign for whatever this is, “—whatever this is!”
Yoo Joonghyuk blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “Isn’t this what couples do?”
“No!” Kim Dokja practically yelled, his voice reaching the kind of pitch that could shatter glass—and probably his own dignity. “Couples cuddle. They give each other flowers, or chocolates, or—or thoughtful words! They don’t treat their significant other’s shoulder like a chew toy!”
Yoo Joonghyuk leaned back slightly, as if giving the matter serious thought. “I don’t like chocolates,” He said with the gravity of someone delivering life-changing news.
Kim Dokja’s mouth fell open, a silent scream of frustration escaping into the void of his mind.
“This isn’t about chocolates!” He snapped, slamming his hand on the table for emphasis. The force sent his plate sliding dangerously close to the edge, the casserole quivering like it, too, was ready to flee the scene.
Yoo Joonghyuk raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer something else, then? Kissing?”
Kim Dokja groaned, burying his face in his hands. “That’s not the point, either!” He muttered, his voice muffled but no less exasperated.
“Well,” Yoo Joonghyuk began, his tone so calm it was borderline infuriating, “Biting is traditional in some cultures.”
Kim Dokja’s head snapped up. “Are you seriously telling me that biting is a cultural tradition?”
Yoo Joonghyuk met his gaze with the unwavering confidence of a man who could say anything and make it sound plausible. “It is. In some places.”
Kim Dokja stared at him, his brain momentarily short-circuiting. “Name one,” He challenged, his voice sharp and dripping with skepticism.
Yoo Joonghyuk paused, his expression thoughtful, “...I can’t remember.”
“Exactly!” Kim Dokja exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air like a man who’d just realized he was arguing with a wall, “You’re just making stuff up now!”
Yoo Joonghyuk shrugged, “Does it matter? You’re still here.”
Kim Dokja froze. For a moment, the sheer audacity of that statement rendered him speechless. Then, much to his own annoyance, a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“You’re impossible,” He muttered, shaking his head.
“Maybe,” Yoo Joonghyuk admitted, his tone unbothered, “But you haven’t left.”
Kim Dokja sighed deeply, rubbing the latest bruise on his shoulder—a perfect crescent moon, as if Yoo Joonghyuk were trying to create some sort of abstract constellation. “No, I haven’t,” He admitted quietly, though his voice carried the weight of both resignation and fondness.
This was his life now.
Bruises, bite marks, and a boyfriend whose idea of romance was as unconventional as it was infuriating. And yet, despite the constant chaos, he couldn’t bring himself to truly hate it. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the biting or the bruises or the ridiculous conversations. It was about Yoo Joonghyuk—the man who, for all his quirks and eccentricities, somehow made Kim Dokja feel like he belonged.
Kim Dokja picked up his fork again, eyeing his plate of questionable food. “Next time,” He started, pointing the fork at Yoo Joonghyuk like a weapon, “You’re cooking.”
Yoo Joonghyuk smirked faintly, the closest thing to a real smile Kim Dokja had seen all night.
“Deal.”
Notes:
Wrote this like in an hour and immediately published it, so apologies for anything that seems misplaced or wrong. Ideas are encouraged to be shared!
Kindly inform me of any spelling and/or grammatical mistakes. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
Chapter 3: Yoo Joonghyuk’s Reasoning
Summary:
He believed that biting was an ancient, sacred act, reserved for the most elite of relationships. Why? Because, in his brain, it was either that or admit that he just had an unquenchable urge to chew on Kim Dokja’s shoulder like a particularly possessive puppy.
And God forbid he confront that thought.
Notes:
Here you guys have it, Yoo Joonghyuk’s smooth-brained point of view.
Feedback is greatly appreciated! Please judge me as much as possible and tell me so I can improve!! Thank you!
And enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Yoo Joonghyuk insisted on biting for one simple, inexplicably bizarre reason: it was a birthright.
Yes, a birthright. Not just any birthright, but the kind that came with a deeply questionable lineage that no one in their right mind would trace back. In the sprawling, labyrinthine depths of his mind—a place that made the Bermuda Triangle look like a Sunday drive—Yoo Joonghyuk had spun himself a tale so intricate, so absurdly convoluted, it could’ve been mistaken for an epic myth passed down by oral historians who specialized in telling tall tales after a few too many drinks. He believed that biting was an ancient, sacred act, reserved for the most elite of relationships. Why? Because, in his brain, it was either that or admit that he just had an unquenchable urge to chew on Kim Dokja’s shoulder like a particularly possessive puppy.
And God forbid he confront that thought.
One particularly soggy evening, as he scoured his bookshelf (a collection that included everything from survival guides to grimoires to what he could only assume was Twilight—the book was in a language he could barely read), he found a passage that resonated like an ancient prophecy. It might have been from an actual survival manual, or maybe a fanfiction he read late at night with the lights off and his dignity on vacation. It spoke of a protagonist who marked their most trusted ally with a bite as a sign of loyalty, dominance, and an alarming lack of common sense. It was the kind of idea that once it burrowed into your brain, it didn’t leave. And from that moment on, Yoo Joonghyuk became convinced that biting Kim Dokja was an act so profound, so steeped in the mysterious annals of ancient tradition, that it had to be done.
For Yoo Joonghyuk, every bite was a story. A declaration.
A full-length drama played out in his head, complete with background music and slow-motion scenes where he looked deep into Kim Dokja’s eyes and, in the silence, the universe whispered This is mine. But there was more. It was a mixture of primal possessiveness, a warped sense of protection, and the kind of twisted logic that only existed when one was a person with severe existential issues and too much free time. To him, every bite carried a message too complex for mere words to bear. You are mine. You are safe. I see you, and I choose to chew on your shoulder to prove it.
The aftermath of these bites? Well, Yoo Joonghyuk was... confused. And honestly, that was an understatement. On the surface, everything seemed perfectly fine. Kim Dokja was still in the apartment, still rolling his eyes and muttering about restraining orders and how he’d never be able to wear a tank top again without the whole world knowing he was in a weird, slightly traumatic relationship. If there was an underlying problem, Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t see it. It wasn’t that Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t hear him or acknowledge what he was saying—he did. In his own way. Yoo Joonghyuk knew Kim Dokja’s body language, knew when the man was genuinely angry, when he was play-acting, and when he was rolling his eyes just for effect. It was in those moments, where Kim Dokja’s defiance and unwillingness to back down clashed with Yoo Joonghyuk’s quiet, inscrutable resolve, that the real love between them was revealed.
There was an understanding there, deep down.
Yoo Joonghyuk saw it as his form of protection, his loyalty etched in bite marks that, to him, spoke louder than any declaration ever could. Kim Dokja, meanwhile, saw it as a maddening testament to how Yoo Joonghyuk’s mind worked—a labyrinth where love was shown in scratches and bruises rather than words or gentle gestures. But even in their most heated moments, there was that small, flickering acknowledgment that their love wasn’t one-dimensional. That beneath the absurdity and chaos, it was theirs. After all, Kim Dokja was still here, still enduring their unorthodox brand of love. That had to mean that these bite-marks were the ultimate proof of commitment, right? They were like living, breathing marriage certificates, written in shades of what Yoo Joonghyuk considered important.
But deep down in the pit of his cold, battle-scarred heart, Yoo Joonghyuk couldn’t ignore the subtle cues that told him Kim Dokja wasn’t exactly thrilled but not exactly opposed to it either. The heavy sighs that hit the air like deflated balloons. The exasperated eye rolls that could rival the most seasoned drama queens. And the dramatic, almost operatic proclamations of ‘love that doesn’t involve actual teeth marks’ and ‘why can’t I just have a normal, bite-free relationship?’ For most people, these would’ve been alarming signs that something was amiss. But not for Yoo Joonghyuk.
Oh no, he found them endearing.
The way Kim Dokja flailed his arms like an overworked windmill, his voice cracking under the strain of constant frustration? That was love. In his mind, it was love with a capital L and a side of ‘get therapy, please.’
Did he feel guilty? Well, maybe. A smidge. But that guilt was quickly drowned out by his belief that those bruises were proof of Kim Dokja’s strength. He pictured it: each bite, an ordeal that forged Kim Dokja into an unbreakable man. If anything, Yoo Joonghyuk reasoned, I’m helping him. Like a warped motivational speaker with an unhealthy obsession with the phrase tough love. In his world, this was love: enduring the impossible, surviving the unthinkable, and occasionally being bitten in the process—together.
The truth was, Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t understand why Kim Dokja stuck around. The man could walk out at any moment, and honestly, Yoo Joonghyuk would’ve let him—after all, it was the principle of the thing. He’d even suggested installing a cat flap in the door, a handy little feature for those moments when Kim Dokja wanted to make a dramatic escape. Kim Dokja had refused, shooting him a glare that could melt steel. “I’m not a stray animal, you idiot.” And yet, despite the absurdity, he stayed.
And for that, Yoo Joonghyuk was grateful.
So grateful, in fact, that he couldn’t risk ruining their dynamic with something as mundane as an admission of affection. Instead, he bit him. Because it was easier. It was safer. And because nothing said I love you like leaving a mark that would make even vampires raise an eyebrow. As far as Yoo Joonghyuk was concerned, their system was flawless. Sure, Kim Dokja yelled. Sure, he threatened to report Yoo Joonghyuk to the authorities—which, honestly, only made Yoo Joonghyuk’s conviction stronger.
What was love without a little chaos, a little mayhem? And biting. Definitely biting.
And so, Yoo Joonghyuk bit with unwavering pride, convinced he was participating in an ancient rite of passage that was as romantic as it was mentally questionable. To him, those bruises were like wedding rings. But darker. And way harder to explain to coworkers or friends who happened to notice Kim Dokja’s latest shoulder imprint. Yoo Joonghyuk would say nothing, straight-faced. And Kim Dokja would stand there, arms crossed, wondering if he’d accidentally wandered into a high-budget, low-key horror movie.
Kim Dokja, meanwhile, would quietly search for “couples therapy for lunatics” on the internet. But he’d do it openly, because, well, there was a certain unspoken rule that Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t understand: if someone was going to make fun of their own misery, they might as well do it with the source of it standing next to them. And if one looked hard enough, in those rare moments when Yoo Joonghyuk’s guard slipped, Kim Dokja would catch a glimpse of a genuine, albeit slightly unhinged, smile on his face. And despite everything—everything—he’d smile back, a little smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
After all, what was a little chaos between lovers? Or, in their case, a lot.
Notes:
Kindly inform me of any spelling and/or grammatical mistakes. Thank you for reading.
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