Gemini’s K-Pop Fic Recs

Umbra Xenobiology Solutions. A mouthful of a name plastered across a massive building on the edge of a sleepy college town. With its tall barbed-wire fences and small windows, the property gives off a prison-like atmosphere. Beneath the logo, a slogan glows in clean white letters: Research First. It was the first sentence on the website, in their brochures, and even in the billboard ads. A phrase polished, yet so secretive. 

For all their sleek professionalism, no one outside the walls actually knew what was being researched. The company released no public papers, no press statements, not even a single tour. Yet locals agreed on one thing: Umbra secured your future if they hired you.

You were no different from the thousands who applied the moment internships opened. You had the credentials. From glowing recommendation letters from professors who adored you, hundreds of volunteer hours logged and verified, fluency in sign language, and a double major. Psychology and speech pathology. A strange combination to some, but Umbra seemed to love it.

Two weeks after submitting your application, you learned why.

A lead executive assigned you to Project Fenrir, located on the fifth floor of the facility. The name alone conjured images of wolves; maybe it would be some behavioral study involving canines. You didn’t specialize in animal psychology, though you figured you could still be useful. Collect data and observe behavioral patterns. Nothing too complicated.

Then, after hours of legal paperwork to swear confidentiality, they handed you a stack of files.

Right there, printed in bold black ink on the top, was a species you had never seen in any textbook: Homo sapiens lycanthropus.

A lycanthrope, or more commonly known as a werewolf. 

A creature you had only ever encountered in folklore listed in a clinical font as if it were just another primate subspecies. Umbra had discovered them. Several, judging by the spreadsheet on page ten that listed more than a handful of subject numbers. All tucked away behind reinforced doors and layers of non-disclosure agreements.

Now you would work with one.

Today is more of the same. Half a leftover breakfast sandwich and straight black gas station coffee that had sat too long in the pot filled your stomach. You donned a soft, cozy sweater to keep you warm in the lab, paired with nice black dress slacks to keep it as professional as a college graduate can. The sound of your heels is the only noise in the long hallway after the first security clearance. Once past the second door, you’ll reach the offices. You barely spend time in your assigned cubicle. Usually emails in the morning, typing up all your session notes after lunch, and answering another round of emails that dropped in after observation hours. 

However, Doctor Richardson is a new addition to your routine today. 

He stands at your desk, in conversation with another associate. You don’t even know their name. Everyone here keeps to themselves, heads down, focused on work, trying to mind their own to stay off the board of director’s radar. The money Umbra paid for your silence could fulfill even the wildest of dreams, and only a fool would risk their job security.

If a company can buy your devotion, what can they do when you are a threat?

Probably a question you should have focused on instead of being lost in the daze of numbers on your first paycheck. 

You clear your throat as you close the remaining distance to your desk. “Good morning, doctor. Are you here for me?”

“Ah! Exactly the person I was waiting for.” He answers with a smile. “I was going to join you on your climb upstairs.” He supplies, tucking his hands into his long white lab coat. “If that’s not too much trouble?”

“No,” you answer, shaking your head lightly. “Let me put down my jacket, and we can go. I don’t want to keep you.”

“It’s appreciated.”

Even if Doctor Richardson is your supervisor, you don’t see him in person often. You met him once on your first day, then a handful of times throughout the months. Most of your interactions are his brief replies to your long emails. Though his showing up today causes your heart rate to spike. You approached the board of directors with a request, and perhaps they have reached a decision. Surely if it was a no, it would have been an email response. 

Quickly, you move around him. Jacket placed on the back of your chair, lunchbox placed momentarily on your desk as you reach for a slotted tote bag next to your computer. Inside are your notepads, pens, a folder of worksheets, and two children’s books. All materials issued by the facility are required to remain on the property. Even a single pen leaving with you will result in termination.

It takes a second to double-check all the supplies are still inside your bag. The lunchbox you brought slides in perfectly at the top. You offer a weak smile, slinging the straps of the bag onto your shoulder. “After you, doctor."

Doctor Richardson spins on his heel, leading the way to the ominous elevator sitting at the end of the maze of cubicles. You follow eagerly as if his own shadow and as silent as one, watching him tap his name badge against the reader. The two rows of buttons for each floor light up thanks to his expanded access. He presses on floor five, where your subject resides. It’s different when you use your badge; only one floor will be accessible. From eavesdropping, you learned that each floor is a designated project for the company. It helps with organization and keeps people’s clearance simple. 

The soft ding from the elevator announces your arrival on the floor. Doors open, and the environment differs from downstairs. Gone are the carpeted floors, the stationed cubicles, the vending machines, and the break room that make the workplace appear like any other office setting. Up here is more clinical. White hallways with harsh fluorescent lighting. Tiled floors that shine with pristine care. Which is expected for a facility that has experiments. 

Instead of a laboratory, there are rooms. No, isolation cells. There are eight on this floor. Every cell has large, wide one-way windows, revealing every single one houses a werewolf under Project Fenrir. You guys stop in front of the cell you spend most of your time in. 

Doctor Richardson finally expands on why he visited you in person today. “I just wanted to say the board thinks you’re doing wonderful with subject 325. As a result, we’ve permitted your request.”

Time stops for you. As his words take hold, your breath catches in your throat. The request was approved by the committee. It actually got approved. You asked for extended teaching sessions with the subject, stating the more comfortable he was, the more progress you could make with his lessons. 

Subject 325 responds well to you. The exact words Doctor Richardson used on multiple occasions. As much as that is true, the werewolf only prefers you because you don’t poke and prod him for bloodwork. Unlike the scientists, you don’t push him to his limit with strength and endurance tests. You don’t call him by his computer-generated subject number. 

No, you call him by his name, the one you worked with him to learn. 

“Now,” Richardson retrieved a small electronic card from his pocket. A special access name badge with a built-in keycard just for you. One to use whenever you want instead of being forced to request entry from security. He offers it to you, continuing to speak in a firm tone. “With this responsibility, you may extend your time with him only if he continues to improve. If he declines, we will revoke the card. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, nodding while taking the card. “Thank you and the board for the consideration. I won’t disappoint you.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You have real potential here. Keep up that great work, and perhaps one day you can join those on the committee.”

Your gaze isn’t even on your supervisor anymore. It’s locked onto the windows of Chan’s so-called room. There is no way he can see you two, nor hear you, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be able to smell you with the level eight bulletproof glass separating you. He’s a specimen, kept from the elements and most contaminants. 

Regardless of what you know is impossible, Chan perks up from where he sits, gaze boring into the window where you stand. Despite the strong fluorescent lights, his eyes were wide, pupils expanded so much that only a small part of the brown was noticeable. He rises to his feet a second later, face full of confusion, glancing between the digital clock on the wall and back to the window. It’s too early for you to be here. You come around his scheduled lunchtime at noon. Currently, it’s only a little after nine. 

The werewolf hesitantly takes steps toward the window. It’s not the same movement as if he were sneaking up on prey; it’s more cautious. Maybe concerned that he won't find what he's looking for on the other side of the glass.

A speaker above you crackles with the sound of whining. Chan is growing distressed. The rise and fall of his chest is shallower than before as his breathing becomes quicker, not quite hyperventilating but close. Although the key card consists mostly of thin hard plastic, it feels heavy in your hand. You could go in there right now to confirm Chan’s suspicions. However, you remain rooted to your spot, observing the new behavior. 

Chan begins to pace. Bare feet padding to the door and back to the window. It’s frantic, reminiscent of how your dog circles back and forth from the front window to the door, excited that you’re finally home after a long day. 

It’s confirmed. 

He knows it’s you. 

Somehow he knows and is growing impatient. 

“Sir,” you say with a polite smile on your face. “I apologize for cutting this conversation short, but I’d like to get there and get started.”

“Oh, of course," he answers, giving one last glance at Chan. A hint of disgust crosses his features before he reins his true feelings back in. You don’t call him out; instead, let him say his parting words. “Keep in mind what we’ve discussed. If you have any concerns, please reach out to us.”

And then what? 

Your so-called ‘concerns’ go ignored again? You fought multiple times with the head of security over the forced sedation. Chan only reacts violently to the medication because he’s terrified. Then he wakes up with lost time and less trust. None of this helps his temperament. 

The real question is, how can you look at Chan and be proud of the work you do? Just because you don’t hurt him doesn’t mean you help him. You are an accomplice to everything that happens. Arguably, the worst person out of everyone because of your kindness. 

This is not a life here for Chan or any of the creatures stuck here. He’s a bug under a microscope of people who couldn’t care about his happiness. 

If anything, you can at least try to make Chan’s day better. 

With a swipe of the new card, the chamber door opens. Chan backs away out of precaution, in case it’s not you. It wouldn’t be the first time security has come in to collect him with tasers out, looking for any excuse for conflict. 

His lips curl up into a wide smile, a dimple popping up on one side of his cheek. The tense shoulders relax now that he knows it’s safe. Still, he doesn’t move until you step inside and the heavy metal door shuts and locks back into place. 

Chan is upon you a second later, arms wrapped tight around your body, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His cold nose presses against your skin as he inhales the scent there. A range of vanilla from the shampoo you use, the jasmine in the body wash, and white lily from a perfume paired with your own natural scent. Despite his human form, he holds onto a lot of canine traits. Scent is a primary one based on the research you read. It helps them hunt, sense danger, and find their way back to each other. 

For him, your combination melds together, reminding him of his freedom, of his home away from this awful place. Reminds him of simpler times of waking up to a sun cresting over the mountains as he lies in the grass. So you allow him to remain in your hold, seeking solace in the comfort your scent brings him. 

You force yourself to think of anything else, not wanting to cry about his captivity once more. Those moments are for when you can’t sleep at night as your moral compass haunts you. Not here when the werewolf in front of you needs a distraction. 

Rather than sitting in negative thoughts, you focus on Chan. He settled on a clump of white fur stuck in the fibers of your otherwise red sweater. A soft giggle slips through your lips. “Do you smell Henry? I swear I can’t get all the dog hair off.”

Chan pulls away without a response, moving to the table in the middle of the room. Two chairs sit on either side. It’s where most of the lessons take place. The blank paper and crayons are scattered on top. It appears he finally caved and started drawing since you left yesterday. 

You come closer, thanking him for the way he pulls out your chair like a gentleman, sitting you down for dinner. He moves around the table, plopping down in his own chair. With a blue crayon in hand, he writes in legible and precise handwriting that he’s practiced for hours with you on the top of a blank sheet: Why are you here so early? 

“I got some good news for us.” You reply while placing your tote bag at your feet. “I talked to some of the higher-ups, and they’re allowing me more time with you. You’ll be seeing me more.”

Chan smirks before jotting down another sentence: I’ll have to check my schedule.

“Don’t be a brat!” You say with playful anger. It’s nice seeing more of Chan’s personality shine through after all this time. Hopefully, this means he’ll be more receptive to your learning plan. “But this means I need you to try harder, okay?”

His smile falters. A loud sigh fills the room as he dramatically throws his head back. It’s understandable; he’s tired of the routine. Language lessons, speech therapy, and sign language practice. Day in and day out. He’s come so far, but not to Umbra’s standards yet. 

“Chan, I mean it.” You say, leaning forward to place your hand over his. “That's why they’re allowing it.” Your voice gets softer, pulling his attention back to you. “Plus, don’t you want to talk to me?”

He finds his crayon to scribble across the paper once more: I talk to you. 

“With your mouth, Chan. I know you have a beautiful voice. I want to hear it.”

A few specialists above you have examined Chan. His vocal cords are intact and developed. He can scream, hum, and groan just fine. There is no reason he shouldn’t be able to speak. At first, you assumed he didn’t want to. Umbra took him from his home, and now he is a prisoner. No one in his circumstances would want to chat. Selective mutism was another possibility. Being in a foreign place, he doesn’t feel safe. The anxiety or fear could be triggering him, resulting in him being unable to speak even if he’s comfortable with you. If that’s the case, then he may never find his voice. 

Part of you holds out hope it'll happen. 

For now, you will continue the lessons. The sign language is slow going, but Chan picks up unfamiliar words. He knows the main language the company uses and can transcribe it thanks to you. You have normal conversations every day with him as if he were a regular man at his age. 

He's not a fool, though. 

When interviewed or interrogated by board members, he will respond with simple answers. There is no elaborating. There is no communication about himself or others of his kind. Chan is protecting his species. He is well aware of what these humans want, and the last thing he’s going to do is endanger anyone else to these monsters. This protection extends to you as well. You are part of this company. Chan may have more trust in you than the rest of the humans, but he is aware of who you answer to. He shuts down the more you press to find out, building up those walls to keep himself secure. 

Though in times like today, you get brief glimpses when you peek through the cracks. Your eyes scan over the images Chan drew. There are eight wolves in total. Each with different fur colors and markings. Chan has mixed shades of crayons to differentiate them all. 

You pull the page closer to you. “I’ve never seen so many wolves together.” 

The page you hold has a thin, nimble, yellow wolf. He’s followed by an orange one that’s a tad larger. Then two brown wolves appear to be playing together. The only difference is that one has red spots along its fur. 

You move to the other page. Another yellow wolf that Chan clarifies is actually white. It’s playing with two grayish wolves, and finally, at the bottom is a large black wolf watching over the entire group. Chan extends his hand, pointing at the lone wolf and then to himself. 

“Oh?” You smile at him, understanding what he’s trying to communicate. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Chan’s plush lips curl up in a smile as he nods. The mood in the room shifts a few seconds later; broad shoulders sink as his smile falls. Chan stares at the drawn wolves with a sense of longing. He lets out a shaky breath, focusing fully on himself to collect his bearings. 

Part of you wants to change the subject. Get his mind off ‌his loneliness. De-escalate his emotions to an easier topic. However, the looming presence of the company is so loud in the silent room. You have to push for the answers they want. If you don’t, Chan is going to lose the one thing he can take for granted will be for him in this hellscape. 

You lean over the drawing, fingers brushing along one of the smaller brown wolves. “Who is this? Are they part of your family?”

He ponders his answer, head tilting to the side. You watch silently as he draws lines to connect each of the wolves together but places a little ‘x’ on each of the lines. The very first symbol he learned is for no. The wolves are connected, just not as a family. 

You attempt to supply an answer. “Are they your pack? Is that it?”

Chan’s eyes light up at the word. He makes a fist with his hand, moving it up and down a couple of times: yes. 

The lump in your throat is hard to swallow. Your body is fighting to keep the words from leaving your lips. “Did you let yourself get caught so your pack would be safe?”

Chan’s expression shifts, lips turning down into a grimace, and nods. He’s so selfless, the more you think about it. The werewolf formed a pack and became a leader, losing everything to protect his own with no idea about their well-being. He sacrificed himself, and now he’s a lab rat being tested on.

“I’m sorry, Chan.” You reply, fighting to keep your voice stable. “I know it’s hard being here.”

Chan reaches for the crayons once more. His frame hunches over ‌his drawing. You sink back in your chair, observing the character he adds to his image. This time it’s a human, one with a red shirt and black pants, the very same colors you currently are wearing, placed right next to his wolf. He circles them with a green circle and then draws an arrow from his feet towards the edge of the sheet. Once Chan finishes, he sits back, eyes on you. 

“You want me to take you somewhere?” You ask curiously. Chan’s arm raises, and he points towards the door. In response, you attempt again to say what he wants so that you understand. “You want me to take you out of the room?”

Chan lets out a moan and gestures toward the door once more, with more aggression. Then it all clicks together. Freedom. Pain blossoms in your heart like a bruise. He wants his freedom. Your voice comes out softer. The cameras recording are going to pick it up regardless, but still you try. “You want me to take you away from here?”

The werewolf nods. He places his dominant hand against the center of his chest and rubs in a circular motion to sign a word: Please. 

“Chan, I can’t. They’ll hurt you and then hurt me if I try.” You sigh as you respond. As though a strongman showing off his muscles, Chan lifts his arms in a flex. He follows it up with chomping his teeth. It’s not enough. You give a headshake. “Honey, you're weaker in this form. The security has padding and weapons.” 

The sound of a shutter door opening and closing provides a perfect segue for the conversation to shift. “Here, let’s change the subject and have lunch. You’re hungry, right? I’ll grab your food.”

Chan exhales in a huff, offended that you would offer to get the tray. He stands while placing a firm hand on your shoulder to push you back down into your chair. The look of disbelief remains on his face as he crosses the room to where a deposit box sits for his cell. 

You roll your eyes when he's not looking. He often refuses to let you help him. For his species, many of them are hyper-independent. Typically, the pack will hunt separately, but the alpha will drag food back for those who are ill or too old to fend for themselves. Even if he doesn’t hunt anymore, the collection of the tray is still his responsibility. 

He joins you once more, eager to see what the staff has given him. When in human form, werewolves can adopt an omnivore diet. However, in order to keep their strength, higher protein levels must be maintained. If the company does nothing else right, Umbra recognizes and accepts that.

Chan is giddy when seeing the slab of cooked meat when lifting the metal cloche, keeping the food warm. He’s less interested in the steamed carrots and boxed juice. Still, you encourage him. “There’s a new juice to try. It's a mixed berry.”

Immediately, he places the juice next to you, a scowl etched on his face. You giggle in response before placing it back on his tray. “Hey now, it doesn’t necessarily mean there are blueberries in there.”

His upper lip curls up in a snarl. There is no aggression against it, only playful banter. It keeps your heart warm as you retrieve your own lunch. On occasion, Chan will be curious about the food you bring. He mostly critiques that you don’t have enough meat and says there should be far fewer plants. Despite hating most of your diet, he gets excited on days you bring in something new he hasn’t heard of. His personal favorites so far are fresh strawberries and the chocolate pudding cups you occasionally bring. 

“Today is a special day for us. It's been a year since I’ve met you, so I brought you something.” You say with a soft smile. Chan’s head lifts when you open the plastic container. There’s an unfamiliar smell for him. His nose crinkles ‌curiously as he sniffs the air. “We call it pineapple. I don’t know if you’ll like it. The fruit grows with a tough skin, and this yellow part is acidic. It’s how the fruit protects itself.”

Cautiously, Chan reaches for a piece to plop in his mouth when the container is offered. He chews for a second before his eyes go wide and his face lights up. Both hands rise up immediately, fingers opening and closing repeatedly to demand more of the pineapple.

You giggle, handing the fruit over to him. “I knew you’d like it. Have all of it.”

Chan accepts the fruit with a content hum to himself. The smile stays glued onto your face to where your cheeks hurt. He’s come so far with his temperament. When you first worked with Chan, he refused to acknowledge your presence. You were beneath him, not worth his time. He wouldn’t even glance over when you sat at the table in the center of the room. Every day you state why you were there in a calm voice and wait for the allotted session time to end. Nearly two agonizingly long weeks of the same thing passed until Chan realized you weren’t going anywhere. 

The first time he sat across from you, his demeanor was the opposite of today. His eye contact burned through you with the heat of the sun to intimidate you. The broad frame sat like a rock with how tense he was. He waited, almost ready to pounce, listening to you explain why you were here. Even after that, he still wouldn’t move or react, assuming some sort of trick was being played. Everyone else here hurt him, so he assumed it was only a matter of time until you would. 

The door to the isolation room opening pulls you from your memories. Chan is already on his feet before anyone steps in. He places himself between the door and your sitting frame, creating a wall of protection. The behavior is instinctual. He's ensuring that the food you hunted, or in this case brought, isn't taken away from you. A low growl from him fills the room as four security guards walk in. 

The electrical hum of tasers being turned on causes you to shoot out of your seat, knocking the chair over. Your voice rises with the anger coursing through you at the immediate hostility. “We’re having lunch!”

“It’ll have to wait," one man answers. “325 is needed upstairs.”

When you attempt to pass Chan to defend him, he simply pushes you back with brief acknowledgment. Dread quickly fills you when the group of men comes closer. This isn’t going to end well. Your voice becomes desperate when you speak. “He fights because you use aggression! He’ll behave if you ask him!”

“We’ll take it up with Richardson.”

It’s hard to tell who strikes first. The room erupts in a fit of screaming. Chan manages to tackle one guard despite two tasers connecting with his skin. Another hooks his arm around Chan’s neck to cut off his air supply, forcing him to let go so he can claw at the padded forearm. 

“Chan, don’t fight!” You cry out, tears running down your cheeks, hearing his choking gasps. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

It takes all four men to subdue Chan. At some point in the scuffle, one of the security guards pulled out an emergency tranquilizer. He sticks Chan right in the meaty part of his biceps. The werewolf immediately settles in their hold, growing weak. His eyes roll back into his head, his body becoming limp and easier for the men to manhandle. 

The group exits with the werewolf in tow, leaving the cell quiet minus your panicked breathing. Today is a breaking point. Umbra isn’t doing anything for the sake of science here. Chan doesn’t deserve this. You need to get him out of here. Even if it’s the last thing you do. 

The plan for Chan's escape took months to come to fruition. Initially, the idea of breaking him out seemed impossible. Doors with double key card access, security cameras and alarms, and an imposing 8-foot perimeter fence topped with extensive barbed wire. 

What if you could walk him out?

The longer you observed how the company operated, the more you noticed little cracks in the framework. Associates finished mundane tasks haphazardly. Because of time restraints and security's laziness, some records are forged. Everyone was comfortable in their position. As long as the board of operatives received the requested results, no one batted an eye. 

No one would watch a new intern who already proved their compliance. 

Especially on a government holiday that most of the staff took off, minus a handful of security. Two in particular that you spent the last week flirting with guard the entrance you wanted to use. You also learned that security has clearance to open all cells to help staff. There would be no need to use your keycard left at your desk. These two guards would also be the only ones at this end of the building. It would be a shame if you slipped sedatives into the break room coffee and offered them both a cup while batting your eyelashes. 

Not even two minutes after consuming the tainted coffee, both men dropped like sacks of potatoes, feet crumbling underneath them. You didn’t hesitate, reaching for both key cards clipped to their belts. The plan was proceeding as intended. You left the break room straight to the elevator up. All the motions were a blur until the doors chimed on your arrival on the fifth floor.   

Even if it was the same floor you knew, it was darker this time around. Not all the artificial lights were in use, and the lack of workers left the silence deafening. Your feet barely connected with the floor, the balls of your feet only touching long enough to propel you down the hallway quickly. As you arrive at Chan’s chamber, that's when the rush of the entire plan finally courses through your body. Shaky fingers of yours fumble to grip the key card correctly. The red error light only stirs agitation in you. You don’t have room for mistakes. It's impossible to know how long the security guards will remain unconscious. The longer this process takes, the higher the chance of others catching wind. 

You take a deep breath before sliding the keycard once more. This time, you successfully opened the door. An automated message plays, the very one heard a million times, telling everyone to stand clear. You don’t wait long, forcing yourself to prop against the doorjamb where the sensor will recognize a human is blocking it and refuse to close.   

Chan is in a corner of his room, finishing a set of pushups. He rises to his feet, face contorting into a look of surprise at seeing you. He’s shirtless, with the pajama pants issued to him hanging low on his hips. His skin was flushed red from his ears to his hips. Sweat dripped from his messy curls on his head. Veins in his arms are more pronounced thanks to his ongoing workout that you interrupted.  

He’s a carved god. 

He’s beautiful. 

Your breath hitches the longer you take him in. Some sort of feeling twists in the pit of your gut. A foreign feeling that may not be nerves; rather, it’s some attraction you still battle with to keep your relationship professional. You mentally fight to shut down any distracting feelings. That’s not why you are here. You need to pull it together and get him out of here. 

You force yourself to speak. “Come on. Let’s go.”

The werewolf’s feet remain glued to the floor. He lets out a chirp while scanning the wall clock before returning his gaze to you. With a raised eyebrow, he seemed to ask why you were here. It’s late, he’s already had dinner, and no tests run into the evening. 

“Chan,” you say firmly. “We don’t have time. Come with me.”

His head shakes, feet shuffling backwards, further into his room, until the backs of his calves knock into the base of his bed. A small noise of distress leaves him. He knows to be suspicious. This could be a trap, another test to check how obedient he is. 

“Please, Chan. You wanted out, right?”

He clenches both hands into fists, extending his index fingers. One digit strikes the other, signing a word: Can’t. 

“Yes, you can," you plead, trying to keep your frustration in check. He’s scared. Of course, he’s scared. You told him what would happen if he tried to leave. Still, you insist. “We must leave now. We won't get another chance."

He never sees you acting aggressively or in distress. When he struggles with every aspect of his daily lessons, you have never yelled at him or shown your annoyance. Here you are now, acting in a way that is unfamiliar to him. Another high-pitched, panic-tinged whine emerges from the back of his throat. It’s a wretched noise you wish never to hear again. 

He wants to trust his favorite human. 

God, he wants to. 

Yet, he doesn’t move. 

An automated voice comes from above you. “Please keep all cell doors clear.”

You can’t hold the door open for much longer. The defense system is seconds away from kicking in. Not only will cell doors shut, but all hallways will lock regardless of security clearance. Then you two will be trapped, and the security guards in the next tower will receive an alert. 

“Chan, come on.” You say while maintaining eye contact with him. There’s no telling what the company will do, and you don’t want to find out. The words you speak are more honest than they’ve ever been. “If we don’t go now, they’ll kill both of us.” 

The threat to your safety gets him moving. He quickly shuffles his bare feet on the tile. You extend your hand with a smile. “Yes! Good boy. A few more steps.”

His large palm is warm in yours. Your grip tightens as you turn on your heel to drag him along to the elevator. Even though you may use this hallway almost daily, the same few steps seem three times as long tonight. Chan continues to follow closely behind you, whining every few breaths. You want to comfort him, offer words of reassurance, or do anything to keep him quiet as you focus on getting him outside.  

On the ground floor, you are not greeted by either security guard. It’s a clear shot out of the building now. You tap both keycards on the sensor; a green light flashes, and the sound of the door unlocking rewards you. Chan finally realizes his freedom is achievable. The large, clear doors reveal the setting sun lowering behind the woods surrounding the building. He picks up speed, dragging you along to the last door. His whines shift into small, nervous hums as he waits for you with the cards. His eyes are wide, desperate that this isn’t some sick joke. The rise and fall of his chest quickens as you tap the last sensor. 

One door automatically opens. You drop the keycards at your feet and lead the werewolf through the threshold. The outside world is beautifully quiet. No cars on the interstate running parallel to the building. No birds chirping or annoying chittering insects. If anyone stepped out, all they would hear would be the two heartbeats pounding rabidly from the adrenaline of possibly being caught and the thrill of a successful escape. 

Now you have to create distance. 

Even if Chan could run free, far from this place, he stays in pace with you despite being barefoot. In no time are you two panting from exertion, and still you run deeper and deeper into the woods, determined to leave the facility until it’s nothing more than a tucked-away memory. 

Temporary safety is a crumbling cabin four miles south of the lab. The heat of the sun has long set below the horizon, plummeting temperatures low enough to make the tips of your ears hurt. Moonlight shines brightly through the breaks in the leaves, illuminating parts of the forest floor. 

The second part to secure Chan’s release happens now. You would wait here, collect your breath for a few minutes, and then head to the back where you stored a vehicle. Then you would be on the road, creating a larger gap and hopefully a trail the company will struggle to track. 

You scoped this location out weeks ago thanks to an aerial view you searched on an online map database. Storing the car was even easier. Whoever owned the property clearly considered the small buildings condemned and let time hopefully bring them to the ground instead of wasting resources. It was perfect. 

The inside of the cabin is dark. A few pieces of furniture long forgotten litter around the one-room cabin. You left a small battery-operated lantern when you brought the car. However, the light it throws falls short of any actual distance. It doesn’t matter; you don’t need it for long. Just until the cramp in your side goes away.

Chan hasn’t made much noise since entering the forest. He kept his head low, not even signing a response when you asked about his feet hiking in the woods. He used to tell passionate stories of running with his pack back home. No one was faster than him. His body could handle any terrain. Despite knowing all of that, you asked to be polite. A test to see where he is emotionally about being free. You expected excitement or a sense of drive to leave you behind to start a long journey home, even if he didn’t know where to start. There’s neither, just blind following as if he were a lost puppy. 

“We won’t be here long, okay?” You say more to yourself. 

Chan still doesn’t acknowledge you. He leans against one wall, eyes still trained on the ground. It could be in shock the more you think about it. A fight-or-flight response that is tied to his survival mode. It’ll have to run its course through his body. Once on the road, he can get some sleep, and that’ll help him relax. 

You kick off your shoes with a huff. Unlike Chan, the soles of your feet ache. All that time planning Chan’s freedom, and you forgot the one key detail of putting on a pair of athletic shoes that could withstand the hike. Tomorrow there will be several large blisters. Future you can worry about it later. 

A painful cry comes from behind you. You spin on your heel to see Chan slightly bent over, both arms wrapped around his middle. His jaw is clenched with a pained groan filling the room. Whatever is troubling him is getting worse. 

“Channie,” you ask, rushing over to him. “Are you okay?” 

A snarl slips past his lips as he finally meets your eyes. The angry gaze halts you just shy of touching him. His pupils shrink and expand repeatedly as if unable to adjust to the low light from the lantern. He’s begun to pant as fresh perspiration covers his forehead. 

“What is it? How can I help?”

Chan shakes his head, violently conveying a no. He doesn’t want help? You can’t help? Is it an effect of a test today out of anyone’s control? Maybe he needs to rest, sit, and let whatever is happening pass. 

His skin burns under your palm when you try to offer reassurance. Words don’t leave your lips, trapped in your throat at the sudden shove from Chan. The force he used is stronger than you expected, resulting in you landing on your ass across the room. He now has full-body trembles as his brown eyes frantically scan the room. You don’t need your ‌years of studying to recognize his behavior. He’s looking for an out, a way to get space away from you. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

Then, like a lightbulb turning on above your head, it all connects. 

He’s shifting. 

A full-body shift? 

That only means one thing. 

Your eyes land on your smartwatch as you bring your arm closer. Fingers tremble opening the calendar. Right there on tonight’s date confirms your worst fear. It has one added icon: a full moon.

No. No. No. 

You broke Chan out on a full moon. 

His hesitation back at the lab makes sense now. 

Chan wasn’t afraid of leaving. 

He was afraid of shifting while near you.

Chan’s noises become more distressed as he kneels. Howls of pain bounce off the walls of the small cabin as each of his limbs twists at unnatural angles. Bones snap loud as thunder, shifting under the skin to extend. Patches of black fur push through the layers of skin, slowly expanding to cover his body. Long, sharp, black nails extend out of his hands, forming claws that dig into the wood, easily scraping through the material as if tearing through a ripe peach. 

You watch in horror, paralyzed by the way his teeth extend into fully elongated canines. The familiar face shifts next, contorting as his snout extends and ears on the top of his head form. It takes nearly two minutes for the full transformation to occur. One you have only seen pictures of until now. Senior staff were the only ones permitted to observe full transformations behind several walls of glass to be safe. 

Plumes of air rise in the cold temperature around his mouth as he pants like a dog. His fully formed tail lightly sways behind him while the werewolf is taking stock of his being. Golden eyes scan the room before settling on your quivering body. 

“Chan?” You ask, voice timid. 

His head tilts to the side. Recognition, you hope. The stack of files never mentioned coherency during shifts. Chan wasn’t part of that study. He could be in this beast form and aware of you in front of him. Or, maybe he’s tucked far away, as the animal has its own independence. Regardless, this is a dangerous situation. One that you must tread carefully. 

The werewolf takes a step. Then another, slowly crawling to close the distance between the two of you. Your eyes focus on the floor, avoiding direct eye contact. Thoughts race in your head as you try to remember more of the information you consumed in his file. Werewolves share mannerisms with other species of canines. It could help you now. Avoiding eye contact is the first big tip you learned. Some species interpret direct eye contact as a threat or an initiation to challenge them.  

Warm breath fans over the crown of your head when Chan stops in front of you. His claws rest on either side of your thighs. Up close, you notice the way his onyx nails start deep in the nail beds, extending nearly two inches where the tips of his fingers once were. Your stomach sinks at the thought of damage he could do. 

Play this safe, you tell yourself. 

Slowly, you tilt your head to the side to expose more of your neck. Sweat from the journey clings to your skin, dotted right along your collarbone despite the cooler weather. Chan should be able to smell your natural body odor. Several breeds of canines can tell pack mates from their scent. Werewolves are similar in that regard as well. 

You gasp lightly at the faint brush of his nose in the crook of your neck. As motionless as a statue, you let him breathe you in for as long as he wants. Your daily ritual, he remembers. He should know it's you even if the wolf is in control. He’s spent the most time ‌with you out of everyone on the project. 

A surprise headbutt against your chest sends you falling backwards. Your head connects with the harsh wood, sending a sharp pain through the back of your skull down to your spine. The werewolf yips a playful sound with another head tilt. To his credit, you could argue he’s trying to play with you. 

Chan’s right hand presses down on your stomach before you can sit back up. The jutting claws dig through the thin shirt straight into your skin, just enough to be a warning. Stay where you are. Because if you don’t, a bit more pressure and your skin will tear as if it were paper.

In the next second, you cry out at the harsh tug on your waistband. The fabric of your jeans and underwear rips cleanly down. Out of reflex, your legs try to close at the first instance of cold air against your skin. Except Chan is quicker, using his wide chest to keep your most intimate area exposed to him. 

“Chan, what…?” Your words trail off. With gentle, controlled hands, your fingers wrap around his forearm. The fur here is coarse and thin compared to the rest of his body. His eyes connect with yours. It’s a hungry gaze. Confirmed by the way drool drips from his teeth. You may as well be a steak in front of him. There’s nothing but fear in your soft voice. “What are you doing?”

The ears on his head twitch; he’s heard you but doesn’t care as his snout slowly dips to prod at your pubic bone, not bothered by the small patch of hair there. Instead, he’s fascinated. Female werewolves have scent glands around their genitals. It’s where Chan knows pheromones should be when with a mate. 

Your breath catches at the sound of his curious sniffing traveling south. His cold, wet nose is jarring against your warm, flushed skin. This isn’t right; you need to stop this and need to get away. This entire night was a mistake. You should have waited for a different opportunity to break him out. 

The press of his rough tongue against your folds pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s tentative at first, lightly prodding, as if he’s testing the waters. However, despite how much you plead for your body to not react, a wetness forms from the stimulation. Chan gives a pleased hum of approval when tasting you. The hand on your stomach untangles from your grip with ease, moving down to your thigh, holding the squirming limb in place. His other hand mirrors, leaving your lower half pinned to the cabin floor. The supernatural strength keeps you from struggling and leaves him the perfect opportunity to shift his stance. He sinks lower between your thighs, nose pressed right against your clit, and tongue picking up speed the longer it swipes between your folds right across your hole, still determined to get more of you.

“Oh—Wait,” you whine, eyes wrenched shut, mind racing, thinking of anything to stop the growing arousal. “Ch—Chan, you can’t.”

The werewolf’s nose continues to grind against your sensitive clit with every swipe of his tongue, applying just enough pressure to aid the growing heat in your core. Your body tenses; the rush of pleasure is inevitable. This creature between your thighs is going to make you come, and time is running out to stop him. 

All you have to do is get him away for half a second. That’s all you would need for the rush to die out. Your shaky fingers reach between your legs to tangle in the soft fur on the crown of his head, right between his ears, and in one last attempt to push him away, you shove with all your might. 

Chan barely moves, unbothered by your effort, too hyper-focused on your taste. The sides of the invasive tongue slightly curl in on itself for easier access to dip deep inside your hole, the tip chasing the new wave of wetness that’s forming along your walls. Never in your life have you felt a sensation like this. It’s mind-melting, addictively intoxicating enough to neutralize any self-preservation as your orgasm overwhelms you. 

“Fuck,” you whine out, ‌trying to arch off the floor while you continue to battle your body over how euphoric this creature’s tongue feels. 

Much to your relief, Chan pulls away completely, head bowing to look between his thighs. While he’s distracted, you use the opportunity to sit up slowly, using the palms of your hands as leverage to scoot away and create distance. Unease creeps under your skin. Even in the pale light of the room, you can see what he’s staring at. 

His cock rests heavy between his legs, fully erect with more length and girth than any human man. Hell, it's bigger than most sex toys you have seen. The lump in your throat is hard to swallow the longer you look. Gears shift in your head. Chan is young for his kind, not even fully mature yet, meaning he’s yet to mate because of his captivity. 

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears at the thought. He’s expected to go through a werewolf puberty phase. A natural progression to be driven to breed with one of his kind. "Rut" is the word that the scientists have used. Stabilizers typically keep his hormones in check, though there are limits to how much he can take to avoid impeding his development. And judging by how his body is reacting, the doctors didn’t give Chan his medication this month.

Now here he is, a dilemma on his hands, and a body demanding he react. 

Chan’s gaze comes back to you, and with his heightened senses, his nostrils flare, taking in the smell of your arousal that’s still permeating the air in the space between you. 

It’s now or never. You need to get away from him. Tonight escalated far worse than it should have. Running away may be a death sentence, but you have to try even if it’s futile. 

At a snail’s pace, you rise to get on your feet. Chan mirrors, standing up straight on his rear legs. He is a bipedal werewolf. One that’s taller than you expect; the tips of his ears nearly brush against the ceiling of the room. The longer you take him in, the more you realize how tiny you are. You are no match for him; you barely come up to the middle of his broad chest. The width of his shoulders takes up an entire doorframe. If you let him catch you, there is no escaping. You push the thoughts away as you turn on your heel to face the exit of the room. 

One of Chan’s growls comes out. It’s low, rumbling deep in his chest, and reminds you of an irate dog giving one last warning before an attack. It stops you in your tracks, giving you time to recognize your error. 

He’s an apex predator. 

You have turned your back on him and not submitted yourself to him. 

It’s a challenge against him. 

You don’t wait any longer, pushing off the tips of your toes, bolting to cross the room, to the one door that could separate you from the werewolf. 

Half a second later, Chan crashes into your body with the force of a freight train, knocking all the air out of your lungs and successfully stunning you for a second. Adrenaline courses through your veins, keeping the fight inside you alive, burning like a raging wildfire. Your frame twists away from the snapping jaws in an attempt to get anywhere from his grasp. Though his sharp talon nails manage to hook into the thin material of your shirt, tearing it to mere strips of fabric as he scrambles to keep his hold on you. 

With all the strength you can manage, you push off the ground, trying to get your feet under you once more to get to that sweet safety that’s a few steps away. Chan is miles faster, using only a hand to swipe at your unsteady legs, sending you back to the floor in a pile of limbs. 

Before you can even acknowledge the pain from the fall, two burly, fur-covered forearms come into view, trapping you under his body. Chan, as a human, was already muscular from his daily exercise to pass his time. Now, in his true form, the extremities have far more mass and more definition. Truly a cage to keep you from escaping. 

You whimper in response to the sound of Chan snapping his jaw by your ear. It’s a polar opposite of the sweet man you know. He’s not the same soft guy who blushes when you bring him new food to eat or the one who gets dramatic when you start his daily lessons. He’s a complete stranger, a different being. 

This is a monster. 

Yes, you knew this side of him existed; it was inevitable he would shift, but he was going to be released before he needed to.

Chan’s sharp teeth are too close for comfort as he growls above you. Your eyes wrench shut, too scared to look at him, too scared of the bite that could occur. It wouldn’t kill you nor infect you; it’s the pain that terrifies you. 

Instead of the impending doom, you flinch reflexively as drool drips down onto your bare back as he assesses you under him. You are no wolf. However, he’s coherent and smart enough to know you are a human with a hole he can use. Your teeth sink deep into your tongue to fight the noise of distress trying to escape you at the sudden tug at the waistband of what remains of your jeans. Same as before, the rest of the denim shreds as effortlessly as before, leaving you completely bare under him. 

“Chan, please.” You beg again, trying to reach for the human part of him that is still in there. Your anguished voice is unrecognizable even to yourself. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to go further.”

If the werewolf understands your words, he doesn’t appear to care. Too busy scraping one of his claws repeatedly along the soft flesh of your hip, attempting to force you onto your hands and knees. The searing burn of the scratches is enough to make you comply. 

His knees slip between your legs, spreading you wider to accommodate his massive thighs. Anticipation of what is coming next causes your whole body to tremble under him. If your heart hammers any faster in your chest cavity, it may explode. Silently you pray it happens to escape this fate. 

Chan’s hips shift to angle his cock against you. Your breath catches at his first attempt to push inside. He really is going to try to bully his cock inside you. There is no physical way. You aren’t even prepared for a regular cock. 

“Chan, wait. You can’t…” Your words trail off, too distracted by the way the tip of his cock slips from the wetness, now nudging against your clit each time he thrusts forward. You can feel every ridge of the thick veins running along the length as he continues to rub so intimately against your folds, searching blindly for the hole he’s desperate to bury himself into. 

His noises of complaint fill the room with his growing frustration. It’s not right. He knows he needs to be inside. Though with his size he will rip you open. He could do irreparable damage. 

One of his hands moves to curl under you. The expanse of the wide claw covers your entire stomach as he brings you flush against his body. With a few more awkward shifts from his hips, the hot, angry tip of his cock finds home in the entrance he’s looking for.

“Ah, fuck.” You cry out as the girth of his cock forces your walls to accommodate around him. Your voice grows more wretched. “Channie, please!”

Thank goodness for the patience Chan suddenly found. Perhaps the beast understands the noises of discomfort slipping past your lips. Even though he doesn’t stop the whole ordeal, he waits to press another inch deeper inside only after your helpless noises quiet down. 

The following thrusts are timid initially. He drives his cock gently from the tip to the length he’s managed to sink into you. Each minute creeping by feels like hours, a never-ending cycle of moments that ignite the arousal in your core to the fear of another inch being pressed inside. 

When Chan makes the mistake of pulling out too far, you take the opportunity to attempt shifting your legs to sit down on your ass. It’s futile. Blocked not only by his thighs but also by the claw still resting against your stomach. The hold tightens, not allowing you to squirm away. He merely shifts you back where he wants you, cock easily pressing inside; this time he ruts quicker and quicker as his patience grows thin. 

Your breath catches as the sharp prick of teeth sinks into the back of your neck. Chan is unaffected by the hair in the way, only focusing on keeping his grip tight. Not enough to pierce through the soft skin. More globs of thick saliva drip from his mouth, caking into your hair and sliding down your neck. A low, tamer grumble follows, another warning, and another familiar trait among the wolves. 

Chan is scruffing you. 

Most of the time, a mother animal will scruff their young to carry or move them. It’s different with werewolves. This is a sign of dominance. A command for you to freeze and not move till he’s done. There are even studies at the facility showing mated pairs may scuff each other to calm their partners through distress. This instance is a mix of the two, especially with the warning noise he delivered. The last thing Chan wants right now is you moving away from his increasingly aggressive thrusts. He doesn’t understand it hurts, doesn’t understand how big he is for your human form. All he sees is more disobedience, and he won’t tolerate it. Not when he’s in control and not during the confusion of his rut. He knows he must breed, and you will accept it. 

Perhaps the werewolf is right.

The less you fight, the quicker he finishes, and the faster this whole affair will end. 

Chan’s thrusts are consistent thanks to the lack of your interference. Your pussy accepts his thick cock greedily, sheathing around him again. All of your attention is on the floorboards below you as you try your best to release the tension in your body. Accept him and his cock. That’s all you need to do right now. 

Just when you think you can handle the events of tonight, an additional issue arises. 

Chan’s cock appears to be growing at the base. 

No, bulging the more you focus. 

The last part of the mating process. 

Your human biology was never intended to accommodate a physical knot that werewolves have. Still, it doesn’t deter Chan from shoving as much of the bulging gland as he can into you. You cry out, feeling impossibly full, the tip of his cock pressing right against your cervix. No matter how you shift or squirm, there’s no way to dislodge yourself until the swelling goes down. Mercifully, the thrusts have stopped. Instead, Chan now grinds against you, giving himself just enough stimulation to reach his high. 

It’s a flood. No, more of a tsunami as warm seed erupts from his cock, adding to the uncomfortable pressure. You bring a hand to your lower stomach, moving his claw, now feeling where your body extends as more cum seeps inside of you. It’s dizzying and never-ending as his cock continues to pulsate inside of you. 

You sink to the floor, defeated and accepting your fate. You won’t be able to move for a while. Werewolves can stay locked together for hours to ensure the seed takes. Those in their rut can take even longer since their bodies aren’t used to mating. Chan is working on pure instinct with his muddy, hormone-fueled brain. He won’t understand he can’t get you pregnant. 

Speaking of said werewolf, he shifts his face, releasing his hold on your neck to drag his tongue against the planes of your sweaty back. Another recognizable behavior: He’s grooming you, showing you affection for the successful coital tie. 

The worst is over. 

By some miracle, you endured. 

Judging by the chime of your watch, it takes nearly an hour for the swelling to go down enough to unlock. You know, by the way your pussy begins leaking sperm around his softening cock. It’s a welcome relief.  

Chan doesn’t stop you from dislodging yourself away from his cock or when crawling out from underneath him. All of your movements are slow and cautious to not rile the werewolf, but accepting the adrenaline rush is long gone. The fatigue is settling into every muscle in your body.

You shift to sit on your ass a few feet shy of the beast. There's no care for your nudity, nor the filth of time caked onto the floorboards you rest on, and not even the mess still leaking between your thighs. All you want is to settle your racing heart. 

However, Chan’s rut continues to rage on. 

His snout presses against the wood flooring, right into the expanding trail of fluids, and he growls, offended at the way his hard work has spilled. This cum is supposed to stay inside of you. Thorough breeding is necessary. It’s the only way he can get pups. 

“Channie,” you plead, desperate as tears burn your lash line. “It won’t take. I’m human.”

A corner of his lip curls as he snarls. It’s a cruel, angry sound. You are disregarding his wants once more. The alpha wolf in the room. A new wave of panic courses through as he takes a step forward. He doesn’t make another noise. He doesn’t have to; you know what that piercing look means. 

No more games. 

You will take his cock a second time. 

You will stop fighting his mating attempt. 

“Okay,” you say softly, hands raised to halt him. “I understand.”

His golden eyes watch as your throbbing limbs shift. This time he’s not upset as you willingly turn away from him, back on your hands and knees. Your front presses flat against the wood. Both knees shift wider to leave room for him. The position is an invitation. You are presenting your pussy to the wolf, a universal sign of submission. 

Chan chuffs, happy at the display. His claws tap lightly against the flooring as he nears. Your heart thumps erratically in your chest in anticipation. Silently you pray to whatever higher being will listen that his second round will be quicker. Your pussy aches, still puffy and swollen from the abuse it’s endured. 

One claw comes down to rest next to one of your ears, followed by the other mirroring on the other side of your head. His firm stomach muscles press against your back, keeping him physically close to you while he stays mounted over you. 

This time around he doesn’t struggle to find your hole. His cock slides right in with a loud squelch. Your walls don’t fight his size anymore. The excessive amount of mixed fluids makes each of his cautious thrusts glide back and forth easily. You groan to yourself in disgust, hearing the drips from your pussy splatter against the wood flooring. There was so much of his cum, and still it wasn’t enough to satisfy his rut-filled brain. 

This night appears to be far from over unless you can help him along. 

One of your hands slips under your body, allowing your fingers to brush against your neglected clit. Jolts of pleasure run up your spine the longer you rub messy circles in the way you know will let your own orgasm rush over you.

It takes only a handful of seconds before your own moans slip past your lips. Chan whines high and pitifully when your tight walls spasm around his cock, trying to milk his cum out of him. He must love the sensation. His hips snap faster, trying to shove his knot back inside to feel this where he’s the most sensitive. Your plan is working. The knot is already swelling back up to its previous size. 

Call it guilt for the life he’s had in the facility, call it selfishness for wanting this to be over, or maybe it’s buried feelings locked deep in your heart that you refuse to acknowledge. Just justify the whole night how you want. Your fingers continue to rub through the fall of your orgasm, pushing for another. You know your body best; you can force another orgasm. 

You can give Chan what he wants. 

The pleasure he deserves. 

Those bulky forearms of his wobble as he struggles to not collapse on top of you. His head hangs right against your face. The soft fur tickles your cheek as he pants heavily from exertion. He’s getting as worn out as you. He must be right on the edge. 

Get him there, you say to yourself. Make it happen, and it’ll be over. 

With the perfect pressure against your clit, you dive headfirst over the edge. Your moans are shameless; no one else is here to witness you. Let yourself be honest and enjoy the pleasure. Accept the way Chan eagerly pushes his knot firmly against your hole to assure a successful lock back into place. Same as before, the hot seed gushes inside you as the werewolf above howls in satisfaction. It’s a rewarding rush of power as you ride out the entire length of your orgasm. 

Your own limbs are faring no better than his, now caving to fold under you from the exhaustion. You cry out at the harsh tug of the knot, unable to dislodge it. Though Chan sinks lower immediately to ease the pain for you. His soft fur is warm across the expanse of your body, enveloping you in a comforting, safe embrace. He rests his face against yours, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth to lightly drag over your cheek. He’s content, rut settling. 

The rest of the world feels worlds away. You know there is still the threat of the company on the horizon, but Chan needs time to shift back. Then you can get him out of here. It’ll just be delayed. There’s no telling how long until he's human again. Records stated his last full shift was five years ago. It’ll happen when his body is ready. You should stay awake to keep an eye on him. Yet, no matter how hard you fight, your eyelids close as you fall asleep. 

It’s hours later when you wake.

Mercifully, on the couch that was tucked away in the corner. Chan must have moved you when he shifted back. There’s heat cocooning your body. A moth-eaten blanket was tossed over you. You don’t care how old or dusty the cushioning might be. It’s a blessing after all the time spent on the wood flooring. 

Gradually, you assess your health. Every part of the body hurts. Besides soaking, a bath is necessary to remove the sticky mess between your legs. Overall, it's not intolerable. You still have a drive ahead of you and should be able to manage. You don’t have a choice though; the security guards are awake by now, and Chan isn’t safe yet. He needs to get out of these woods. 

Your eyes scan to the left. Next to you is a small corner table with two apples and a handful of wild berries that were not there last night. Chan must have left them as a gift. Dread sinks into the pit of your stomach the longer you stare at fruit. He left the cabin. He doesn’t know that the company owns drones that can scan the entire area. Not to mention plenty of thermal cameras. 

Where is he? 

You fight the fatigue to sit up, voice struggling to come out of your parched throat, “Channie?”

A human whine slips out across the room. 

Chan is in a corner. He’s tucked his limbs tightly against himself to be as small as he physically can be. His red, teary eyes briefly meet yours before falling back to the floor. He whimpers, something sad or hurt. He looks guilty and must feel it too. 

Your heart hurts; he remembers what occurred. His favorite human hurt by his own hand, the one person he trusted and felt safe with. Now unable to even look you in the eyes, worried about how you feel. Surely, he assumes anger, perhaps hatred, or even fear of his true self. 

Yet, there are none of those emotions flowing through you. Last night was your fault. You took him from that awful place at the worst possible moment. The animal inside him only acted as its biology told it to do. He can’t fight his own nature. 

“Chan?” You whisper, keeping your voice low. “It’s okay, honey.”

More heart-wrenching whines leave him. He turns his face away, burying it in the crook of his arm. His entire frame trembles as he begins to sob. You can’t even comprehend the emotional turmoil he’s going through. Werewolves mate for life unless in dire circumstances. Poor thing probably is wrestling a heavy conscience when he doesn’t need to. 

“Channie, come here," you say, firmer. A painful knot twists in your stomach. Not only does he need comfort, but after everything that occurred, you need him. "Please.”

Chan doesn’t rise to his feet when he finally moves. No, he scampers closer on all fours. He sits on the floor, physically as close as he can be, with his head low, anticipating some sort of punishment.  

It never comes, and it never will. 

“None of last night was your fault. I’m not upset," you say, with fingers tangling in his greasy curls to scratch at his scalp. His eyelids flutter shut. The touch is soothing, solacing enough for his crying to settle. It takes a few minutes for Chan’s tension to melt away. You only speak again once his breathing regulates. “We need to move soon.”

Chan pulls away as if your touch burns. His head shakes, telling you no. One of his hands comes up to his lips, signing a word: Eat. 

“I will," you answer. “But you shouldn’t have gone out.”

Chan huffs; it’s an offended sound. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration that he can’t communicate what he wants. His body twists, searching the room for anything the previous owners left so he could use it to help vocalize his response.

You bring a hand to his shoulder, softly squeezing the warm skin, “Don’t worry about it. I know what you're doing.”

He forgets the stacks of research you consumed over the year. The only reason he left the cabin was to find you food. It’s his job to provide a meal after a successful mating session. He knew enough about the human diet to not bring you a dead animal. Instead, he picked a safer option, one probably from memory with all the times you ate lunch with him. You shared countless apples with him, and the berries are similar to the blueberries you offered him despite his hatred for them. 

Once more Chan signs for you to eat. This time, more assertive. He pulls away to crawl across the room only to return with a bucket he must have found somewhere in the house. There’s water inside. He traveled to the nearby river you passed on the way here. 

“How long were you out there?” Your tone comes out more aggressive than intended. His eyes are wide with panic, taken aback. Plush lips start to part, but only a groan comes out instead of a word. He wants to plead his case. He doesn’t get the chance, not with your continuous prodding. “Did anyone see you? Did you hear anyone?”

Chan shakes his head, shoulders tense as the questions keep coming. His breathing becomes labored as the stress of your words overwhelms him. He slams the bucket down, causing you to flinch. Water sloshes over him onto the floor. He doesn’t particularly care, instead bringing his palm to cover your mouth, shushing the words of interrogation. 

The mood around you shifts. Chan’s cheeks are still puffy and tear-stained, though his eyes have narrowed. They’re not as round and curious. No, this gaze is serious, almost commanding. Similar to last night, when Chan established his power over you. He maintains the burning alpha wolf's gaze while his free hand blindly reaches for one of the apples to drop it into your palm.  

Heat spreads across your skin with how flustered you become. Sparks of arousal curl deep in your core. It’s followed by shame at how your body reacts to his display of dominance. It's a humbling reminder that you are no longer at the lab and Chan chooses to follow your lead. He can overpower you at any moment, but he doesn’t. All because he respects you. 

He releases his hold, and for one last time signs for you to eat. His eyes don’t leave yours; he doesn’t blink, just watching as you bring the apple to your mouth to take a bite. That appears to be enough to appease him, and he falls back to a seated position on the floor. 

Minus Chan’s nudity and dirty feet, he’s in good shape after his shift. This is good, very good for you. Occasionally, some werewolves fall into a deep slumber to recover. There was a genuine fear that you might have to try to move Chan’s bulky body, and you are in no shape to do so. 

“We have a long day ahead of us. How are you feeling?” You ask timidly before biting into the tart apple again. The werewolf at your feet merely shrugs in response. That's a good enough answer for you. You’ll finish this damn apple so his provider mentality is satisfied and then get moving. 

When tossing the blanket to the side, cold air sinks straight to the bone. It’s no different from dunking yourself straight into a lake in the middle of winter. Yes, it’s time to leave and never leave the warmth of the car heater. Damn Chan and his heightened body heat. The cool weather is probably a blessing to his skin. 

“Help me up.” You say while slowly maneuvering your limbs to sit on the edge of the couch. “We have to get moving.”

Chan motions over to you and back to himself. You don’t need him to speak to understand. The lack of sunrise will keep the forest a maze. Both of you are nude, and in no shape to be back out in the woods. Especially you, with what you endured. 

“I planned ahead. Don’t worry. We just need to get me to the shed in the back.”

Instead of being a shoulder for you to lean on, Chan stands upright before reaching for your frame. His strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you up and away. You gasp at the sudden display of strength, wrapping your arms around his neck and securing your legs tight around his hips. With one final adjustment of his hold, Chan sets off through the decapitated cabin and straight for the smaller building. 

The ice-cold cement slab the shed is built on burns against the blisters on your feet once they connect to the ground. You work quickly, hands reaching for the blue tarp you placed here a couple of nights ago. It slides off easily, revealing the car underneath. The vehicle is nearly two decades old. Bought with cash from a car lot two towns away to have no ties to you. It took a couple thousand dollars to make sure it would be up and running for the long journey, but at the end of the day the cost didn’t matter. Just as long as Chan was free. 

Slowly you hobble to make your way around to the trunk. Chan follows, hands outstretched around your frame just in case you were to fall. It’s charming how much care he has for you. Again, it’s part of the werewolf in him. In his culture, you two are bonded partners for life now. He could be shunned from his pack if anything bad happens to you. He doesn’t even know where they are, but the values instilled in him remain regardless. 

Could you handle a lifetime with Chan? 

Don’t you have the answer already? 

Your fingers search for the handle, and with some effort, the lid pops open. Inside the trunk are a few supplies. Mostly clothes and shoes. You reach in, grabbing the set for Chan first. He accepts the pants first, wasting no time to pull them on. The tee shirt is a bit tight for the broad frame, but he appears unaffected. Finally, he accepts a hoodie. It’s on the large side. Loose for him to hide in, including his face. You help zip it up before reaching around his neck to pull the hood up. 

It’s perfect.

Well, almost. The shoes are a lost cause because his feet don’t fit, but you don’t plan on bringing him anywhere near people. Not until you know it’s safe. Chan merely tosses them away. He’s always preferred being barefoot, anyway. He never used the lab-issued slip-ons the entire time he was there. 

To your surprise, Chan takes the sweatpants you packed for yourself and kneels at your feet. His touch is gentle, using one hand wrapped around your ankle to lift your foot up so he can guide your leg through. He mirrors the other before hoisting the waistband up to rest comfortably at your hips. His gaze lingers on your stomach. Even in the low light, he notices the several small cuts from where his claw pressed onto your skin. His lash line is wet as he gently covers your belly button with his palm. 

"No pups," you murmur. 

Chan lets out a relieved sigh. Another pressing question that had likely been bothering him was answered. He moves his hand only to quickly press his plush lips against each of the scabbed-over cuts. On the last one, he looks up at you, lips brushing your skin. He’s mouthing words, though no voice comes out: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

If only he knew how much guilt you were battling. There will be time in the future to heal and reflect. For now, you accept his words and allow him to help you dress if it eases his pain. The tasks appear to be a good distraction from the spiraling thoughts. He obeys your command to open the shed doors due to you not having the strength to fight the rotting wood. It gives you a moment to get the car running and warmer by the time he slips into the backseat with an excited chirp.

Yes, you feel the exhilaration too. It’s time to get the hell out. Your palms adjust their hold on the steering wheel as you pull onto the old dirt road. It’s bumpy and slowly being reclaimed by nature. Chan giggles in the back with every large dip, amused by how the car rocks. It’s a wonderful noise to hear. Once this is said and done, you’ll do everything in your power to hear all the time. 

Eventually, the lack of gasoline forces you to pull off the interstate. Chan’s stomach had been rumbling for the last hour, so a pit stop was needed. You could fuel up and find him some food for‌ both of you. Something more substantial than fruit. Then keep driving until you hit the hotel tucked right over the state line. 

Tucked off a few miles from the highway is a gas station you settle on. The building is no bigger than a two-car garage. Each of the walls is weathered from the years in operation. Several windows are boarded up with wood, and the roof has pieces of sheet metal used to repair leaks. Business probably only continues in service thanks to the random cars traveling through and a handful of locals. This is ideal; the chance of security cameras is low. People out here tend to mind their own business, and you will pay in cash. There is no way the company will know you were here. 

“Channie, I have to go inside for a minute.” You say while pulling out your stashed wallet in the center console. The cash is still confirmed inside. Your body twists toward the back to face him. “Will you be okay staying here?” 

Chan nods softly, face barely peeking from the hood. He doesn’t move from his lying position. 

Smart boy, he knows to hide. 

The store attendant doesn’t even acknowledge you entering, too invested in the newspaper he’s reading. You slink through the aisles, scanning the food. Two packages of jerky, one dusty can of pineapple, bottles of water, and a couple of overpriced handmade sandwiches from the cooler. It’ll hold you guys over until the next town. You don’t want to waste much time inside; you need to get back to Chan. 

Even at the register, the worker still doesn’t speak when you pay. Just a simple nod in acknowledgment at what pump the car is at. This guy is simply going through the motions, probably thinking about how long till his shift is over. It’s a blessing; you wanted to avoid painful small talk. 

Back outside, the sun is high in the sky. It’s a nice day. The weather is warming up despite how cold the temps dipped the previous night. Birds chirp in the distance. There’s not a cloud in the sky, you realize, as you silently pump the gas. Perhaps a sign of ‌better days ahead for you. The property you bought to remain under the radar is tucked away in the woods, nearly thirty minutes away from a one-stoplight town. There is genuine fear of how the company is going to react once they find out one of their test subjects is gone. You used most of your savings making it self-sufficient. Anything to make sure you don’t have to be seen. 

Will it last forever? No, but it’s enough until Chan decides what he wants to do with his life. 

Speaking of said werewolf, isn't he a little curious about the food you bought? 

Once securing the gas cap, you peek into the back seat. 

The familiar feeling of dread hits fast and hard. 

He’s not inside. 

“Chan!” Your voice cracks across the parking lot. The dirt parking lot has no fresh tire tracks, no strangers. Just dust and a pair of footprints trailing the opposite way from the car. The grocery bag slips from your fingers as fear turns the blood in your veins into ice. 

He’s gone. 

Just like that?

You scream louder this time. “Chan!”

A second later, Chan appears from the side of the building. He jogs back over to the car, head ducked low, shoulders tight. A sight similar to a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Guilt written all over him. 

“I said stay in the car!” You exclaim, the anger in your voice thin and shaking. Loss, anger, and relief crash into you so hard your knees nearly give out. It’s a whirlwind. Nausea hits next, causing stomach acid to burn the back of your throat. “You should have waited. I was worried.”

Chan signs two words: Toilet. Sorry. 

He circles the car to grab the fallen bag. When he straightens, his hood slips off his head. Sunlight catches in his curls, wind teasing the brown strands, and it shows off all the different shades of color. 

Chan came back to you. 

He didn’t have to. 

It was the perfect opportunity to leave you behind. 

He is choosing to stay, right?

In a perfect world, he would find his pack and return to his family. Though that dream might be impossible. You don’t even know where Chan is originally from. Umbra ships creatures from around the world. The other werewolves could be oceans away. 

Now the insecurities inside you are trying to guilt you. You are all he knows now. He is still in survival mode. He’s accepted his fate. Being with you means he’s not a lab rat. Of course he would pick being out here. That thought stings more than the scratches healing on your hip. 

You want him to stay because he wants to. 

Maybe that’s selfish of you. 

The fear of losing him lingers in your chest, raw and undeniable. There is no shoving your feelings away anymore. You care for him. No, you love him. You would do anything for him. Able to see him here free, enjoying the sunshine, is priceless. Everything you have done and endured seems worth it. You would do it a million times over. This is what you wanted for him. 

For the first time, the voice you desperately wanted to hear speaks beside you. It's trembling, strained, and soft. “L—L—Love…You.”

The world stills. These are Chan’s first vocalized words to you. After a year of working every day. It’s not letters or numbers. Not rehearsed sounds practiced for hours at a time. Not a forced syllable squeezed out of frustration. All of it has paid off. 

He is expressing his true feelings.

You knew Chan was fond of you. Yes, you also knew of his deep emotional attachment. You aren’t blind. He sought you out in that horrible place. You were his comfort; of course he would grow attached. This makes your plan for his release harder on top of all your complicated feelings. The goal was to let him run free up in the thick woods near the mountain. Very few humans travel up there, so he could shift freely and safely from danger. There is a dense population of wildlife that would be perfect for him to hunt. Now you’re unsure if you could let him out there if he didn’t want to stay with you. 

“Chan,” you whisper.

His eyes stay on the ground like he expects the words to be wrong somehow. As if he’s bracing for correction. It isn’t perfect. It doesn’t have to be. Not when it’s music to your ears.

He swallows and tries again, stronger this time. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Channie.” You answer with tears burning your lash line. Cautiously bring a hand to his cheek, cupping his face before leaning close to place a soft kiss on his plush lips. Chan pulls away immediately, face flushing a deep shade of red, and gaze falling to the dirt below his feet. He’s shy about such sudden affection, but the wide smile on his face tells you he enjoyed it. 

“Come on.” You say with enthusiasm, turning to open the door for him. “We still have a long way to go.”

Chan slips into the passenger seat, closing the door behind himself. His eyes lock onto you, watching you walk around the front and enter on your side. He allows you to buckle his seatbelt without a struggle. His fingers fiddle with the cloth strap, completely distracted by the mechanism, curious how it works. 

And with that, you two are back on the road. 

If Chan minds the soft music playing, he doesn’t show it. He eats quietly beside you, scarfing down a sandwich and a bag of jerky in a handful of minutes. The pull tab on the can of pineapple gives him a small fight, but he chirps in excitement when realizing what’s inside. He eats one piece at a time with his fingers, savoring the fruit. 

The car ride was fairly silent after that. Chan rests his head against the cool glass, focused on the scenery passing by. Cautiously, you bring one of your hands to his, intertwining your fingers to hold. Out of your peripheral, he glances down at the hold and tightens the grip.

The two of you will figure out what to do about his next shift. Your new home has a basement. Though the idea of chaining him down doesn’t seem too appealing and is rather cruel, maybe he’ll understand. However, the real question is if you can werewolf-proof your home just in case it’s not enough to hold him. Sure, you live outside the city in the woods, but there are still neighbors miles down the road. 

Those thoughts don’t matter right now. 

After all, you have time until the next full moon. 

︎Abiaswreck | Do not copy, repost, or translate | As always, reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to comment, reblog with feedback, or send me an ask. I’d love to hear from you; it helps with motivation. I hope today is kind to you. <3

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Denial is the first stage of grief. 

When you woke up in a foreign place, the previous evening was a blur. You remembered getting ready with your friends. The hour it took to get all the little details in your outfit and makeup perfect. There were giggles among your friends cramming in the small apartment bathroom. Jokes about who could get the most free drinks were only half serious. It was going to be a night to remember—your exact words to the group. 

Funny how that didn’t work out. 

San. 

You remember meeting San. A man with hypnotizing eyes, a strong jawline, and a broad frame that was utterly earned muscle. He checked off everything on your mental checklist of attractiveness. It was the smile that exposed pretty dimples that melted through any of your defenses. He strolled up, dripping with confidence in a scandalously buttoned satin shirt and a pair of leather pants that hugged his thighs devastatingly well. He mentioned he was a dancer when he flirted with you. Dancers always have sculpted thighs and fabulous stamina. 

“Let me show you,” he said while pulling you onto the dance floor. “One dance isn’t harmless?”

You let him guide you through the growing mass of patrons, without so much as a look back at the girls avidly encouraging you. Your bodies melded together with ease. You two were puzzle pieces, meant to be, as his touch stayed featherlight on your hips. 

San wasn’t lying; there was a gracefulness in his moves that flowed harmoniously to the deafening beat of the music. One dance turned to three before you knew it. You were a doomed sailor trapped under his siren spell. There was no exhaustion in your limbs, no ache from the questionable choice of shoes you picked tonight, and no care for anyone else as long as you stayed in his embrace. 

And that’s where the memories end. No matter how hard you try to focus, it’s just blank. A dark void, straining your already hungover mind. Perhaps you drank too much and didn’t remember coming home with San. Your clothes are still on, simply crinkled from rolling around in your sleep. San isn’t here next to you. Maybe he let you sleep it off. One-night stands might be rare for you, but it’s not a worry. You can find your shoes and purse, thank him for his hospitality, and then hail a taxi home. It’s a little awkward to explain to your friends; however, you could just flub some details to prevent intrusive questions. Yes, this was the plan. 

You slip out of the plush bedding, bare feet sinking into the shag carpet. It’s then that you take in the details of the bedroom. A majority of the men in your life kept their apartments in a minimalist style, sleek and filled with shades of grey or black. Not San; the bedroom had shades of red with dark walls, giving the room some sort of gothic romance vibe. 

He’s got taste. 

Your purse sits at the end of the bed, resting on a footstool. It takes two strides to close the distance. Everything, including your cash, is accounted for when you go through it. The cellphone inside is dead, blinking a battery icon before the screen goes black. Still no reason to panic just yet. He respected your privacy and didn’t go through your belongings. Maybe he didn’t have a charger compatible with your phone? Or now that he earned his night with you, he didn’t care. 

Long burgundy curtains call out to you when you notice no clock in the room. You hook an arm through the thin leather strap attached to your purse as you walk over to look out. The rings holding the curtain scrape along the rod as the curtain is pulled back. There are no sounds of the city. No sunlight blinding you. Instead of a window like you expected, a brick wall stands tall in front of you. A little weird, yet it makes sense; by chance he didn’t like the exposed brick. He used the curtains to maintain the darker aesthetic. Basement apartments are common in the city. 

Fine, you didn’t need to know the time. You will find San, borrow his phone to call a taxi, and then leave. Except for a few minor details, the plan remains the same. 

At the bedroom door, you hesitantly wrap your fingers around the gold handle. There is no resistance when you make a half turn to the right, but pushing or pulling won’t budge the door. It’s locked. San placed you here, then flicked a lock in place so you couldn’t leave. You try once more. No matter how you turn the handle, you can’t leave the room. Panic creeps its way through your body. Now you should be concerned. Red flags and loud alarms are screaming in your head. 

This isn’t right. 

How did this happen? Why can’t you remember anything past dancing with San? How are hours of your time just gone? Was it drugs? Perhaps a spiked drink? Why is he keeping you here? Did you fall in love with the one evil person in the club, and now you’re doomed? Were you fated to wake up in a bathtub filled with ice and both your kidneys removed?

“San?” You call out, voice uneasy from the fear. 

There is movement on the other side of the door. Footsteps approach, and out of instinct, you back away, wanting to keep the distance from San until he explains what his intentions are. The sound of the lock shifting fuels your fight-or-flight response. You need to leave immediately. Forget waiting for a taxi; you will walk barefoot to a gas station if it gets you out of here sooner. 

The door opens, and San appears. Gone is the satin shirt, replaced with a simple tee. Pajama pants hang low on his hips. His previously styled hair is now a mess of wet locks from a shower. His casual clothes are slightly reassuring. If he were going to harvest your organs, surely he would wear something that won’t hold evidence. 

“Good morning.” He says sweetly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “How did you sleep?”

You swallow the nervous lump trapped in your throat. “Fine. I’d like to leave now. My friends are probably so worried.” 

San’s expression deadpans. He speaks nonchalantly, unaffected by your clear distress. “You’re not going anywhere, angel.”

“Are you out of your mind?” 

“Beloved, it’s still early. Why don’t you try to sleep a little longer, yeah?” San suggests slowly taking a step closer. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“You’re crazy.” You say with a forced laugh. The organ harvesting theory comes up again. You need to leave now. The window to get past him would be small. You might manage to run before he traps you in the room once more. If you could just get a little closer to the exit, it should be a clear shot. It’s better than sticking around. You stall a little longer with your words as you try to creep closer to the door. “I’m not your ‘beloved’ or your ‘angel.’ You’re going to let me out of this room.” 

“Shh, now.” He coos, closing the remaining distance. A hand of his finds your chin. His grip is tight as he tilts your head, forcing eye contact. The irises are blood red as they expand and shrink the longer you look. You never noticed last night. Not that you could tell in the array of colorful lights strobing in the club. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” San says, maintaining his calm, confident demeanor. His word is law, and you can’t fight it. You can’t pull away. That spell of his gaze is overpowering. It’s just as strong now as it was last night. “You’re going to go sit down like the good girl I know you are while I finish making your breakfast. It’s the most important meal for humans.”

In the next blink, San was gone. You are alone in the room once more, the door shut, the deadbolt clicking in place. Your feet betray you, turning you on your heel, moving on their own volition towards the bed where you sit. How did it end up like this? How did you fall so hard into this spider’s trap?

The devil was a gentleman. A gentleman who wears expensive clothes and smiles prettily while he charms his way close enough to you. You slipped into his arms on that dance floor, allowing him to steal you away while the surrounding crowd was oblivious. Now here you are, unable to disobey him, more confused than you were when you first woke up. You can’t stay here. 

This is not your fate. 

By day three trapped in the bedroom, you learn more about what San is. The knife you stole from the steak dinner he offered you pierces through his shoulder with ease. His howl of pain fills the room. Tears flood his lash line as he stares in disbelief. That’s all you need to see. You don’t stick around, letting him struggle to reach behind him for the handle to pull out. The bedroom door slams against the wall, and you take the ascending stairs two at a time. 

You reach the upper floor landing before being tackled to the ground. San pursued you at a speed that is abnormal for a human. Your limbs struggle against the crushing weight of his frame. He easily manipulates your limbs until you are flat on your back and pinned down. The growl leaving him reverberates against your own chest cavity. Then the answers to your burning questions are right in your line of sight. Inches from you are two sharp, elongated fangs.

Vampire. 

San is a vampire. 

The rumors are true. There are vampires in the city. People joked about their existence. Tales to keep younger people away from the dangers of nightlife. Drunk ramblings from homeless people. You ignored the warnings. Vampires were just folklore to you. 

“Stop fighting me!” he hissed out when you struggled with renewed determination. “It’ll only be worse for you.”

“Please,” you plead under him. “Just let me go!”

“Why would you do this, angel?” His voice shifts, softer and filled with pain. “How am I supposed to resist when your fear smells so good?” Your eyes wrench shut when he leans closer. A surprised gasp slips past your lips when the unfamiliar sensation of his wet tongue drags along your carotid artery. “I just want a small taste.”

“Don’t”

“It’s only fair, right?” San doesn’t even acknowledge your protest. “If you spill my blood, I will take yours to replace it.”

That was the first time San fed on you. It wouldn’t be the last. He became addicted to your blood. He couldn’t get enough. Every day, he would come down, bringing you meals and taking your blood as payment. You fought every time, yet in the end you were no match for the creature. 

It takes less than two weeks to hit the bargaining stage of grief. Cue all the nights you spent on your knees begging to be released. It didn’t matter how he did it, just as long as it happened. Have him erase all of your memories with his compulsion. Leave you on the side of the highway. You wouldn’t say a word. No one would believe a vampire kidnapped you. 

Your request offended San. You just didn’t understand yet. When walking this earth as long as him, you knew when you found the person meant for you. Meeting you at the club was fate. There was a little red string tying you and him together. You just couldn’t see it. It just took time. He didn’t want to hear your woes anymore. There is no leaving; this is your home. You have everything here with him. What is there to go home to? Your friends and family accepted that you are gone from this world. Time moved on for them. 

Besides, isn’t this what every woman wants, even if it’s too good to be true? Fresh flowers every week, things on your wishlist bought periodically, and the takeout you crave when you want it. San doesn’t care about the expense. The cost isn’t a problem if it keeps you happy, if it keeps you from wanting to leave. You could have anything. Those were the words haunting you for the last few days. You weren’t even sure if it was days. Maybe it’s been over two weeks now. You lost track. It’s all been a blur the longer your reality of escaping was continuously squashed. 

Anger is the third stage.

Despite the mess you made, despite how much you broke and how much you screamed, San was unbothered. He expected this phase. This was good; you are progressing well and working through your emotions. He validated you. It’s hard being away from friends and family. You gave up everything to be here. You just didn’t know how to handle the overwhelming pressure. Acting out isn’t punishable. Any messes could be cleaned, furniture was replaceable, and new clothing could be ordered.

“It’s okay, angel.” He would say it as if he weren’t standing in a destroyed bedroom. “I’m not mad. I’ll fix this.”

So time continued to move. Days continued to pass by. Though being in captivity, depression came as a powerful tsunami, driving any emotion out until the damage left nothing but a shell of your previous self. You didn’t eat, and you didn’t fight when he stole your blood. San still took care of you despite being forced to. A living doll he fed, cleaned, and dressed up, using his own hands and compulsion as needed. 

That’s when the gift of Salem arrived. A black cat filled with affection for you. Your spirits lifted as you found comfort in the new companion. He required your attention and care. A responsibility you took seriously, forever worried San would take him away. For a moment, the thought of leaving was silenced. You were too focused on the way Salem slept next to you, purring away, completely content, unaware of the severity of your situation. 

It didn’t mean you gave up completely. Your escape plan was shifting. Smuggling out a cat would be easier than killing a vampire. Yet every time you tried, the vampire was there to see every new plan fail. 

San’s strategy changed after that. He used Salem against you to pull at your heartstrings. “You would abandon your companion so easily,” he would say. “Salem is your sweet baby boy. It’s too cruel for even you.”

And if the gaslighting and guilt didn’t work, well, there was the reliable compulsion. 

Honestly, he hated using it. He wanted every emotion to be genuine. You would come around to loving him. The undead creature had nothing but time; he could wait you out. There was no going back, no freedom. It’s just a matter of time until you accept him. Even if you refused him with all of your might, it would be inevitable for you to crack. Humans need companionship; they need affection and attention. Salem wouldn’t be enough. You would seek San out. He knows this. 

It was a battle you would lose, and today might be the day. 

San slips through the door around four am, judging by the new digital clock you asked for. You abandoned the normal human sleep schedule to match his long ago. Your internal clock was flipped entirely so you could enjoy the nights with him. With the lack of windows down here, you wouldn’t know if it was daytime, anyway.

The vampire brought a gift tonight. In his arms are two dozen black roses. He spoke about them all week with excitement. As long as you didn’t remove them from the container, they would last for three years, perfectly preserved and requiring no maintenance. A perfect centerpiece for your kitchen table. 

“What do you think?” San asks with genuine curiosity when placing the roses down in front of you. He shifts his body weight onto the other foot, nervous about your response as if he were a schoolboy confessing to his crush.

“They’re lovely.” You answer, voice timid. The dyed petals are velvety soft to your touch. Each one appears perfectly colored and quality-checked, no doubt costing a pretty penny. “This is so thoughtful.”

San shrinks into himself, bashful at the comment. “I’m glad you think so. You deserve only the best.”

This creature in front of you kills humans for their blood for sustenance. He’s taken your blood to quench his thirst. He manipulates you when you refuse him. This man ruined your life. He uprooted all of your dreams and goals.

You should fear him. 

There should be nothing but hatred burning deep in your heart. After everything he’s done to ruin your life, the only thing you should do right now is drive a stake through his undead heart to end him. 

Though for some unknown reason you can’t. 

At first, you assumed it was fear. You are not strong enough to kill him. He has the strength of three men. The speed is unmatched by any creature. His powers can’t be resisted. Even if he got close enough thanks to your trust, it wouldn’t be enough for you to hurt him. 

And a cruel voice in the back of your head says you shouldn’t. San was right. Not one person has spent this energy on you before. No one has devoted their entire existence to you. No human man would go to these lengths. They were selfish, disgusting beings typically fueled by their own selfish greed. 

The soft brush of fingers against your cheek pulls you from your thoughts. San’s voice is softer, a little more than a whisper. “What has your head in the clouds today?”

“Just thinking about how much you love me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, a fond smile forming on his lips. “Are you understanding my love now?”

“I do.” You nod. “No one else goes to these lengths.”

“Because no one else can, angel. That’s all I’ve ever wanted you to understand.” San is gentle when leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. His gaze lingers on you, full of nothing but fondness for you. “I love you with my entire being. I will give you everything. Whatever you wish. I’ll be your slave. All I ask is for your devotion to me.”

His proposition is so simple. You just don’t have to fight it. Just welcome his love with open arms. It would be that easy. No more fights. No more lost time from the compulsion. All you have to do is say yes. Cave in and let those last walls of defense crumble. 

How long will you drag this out? If you were escaping, it would have happened already. 

San gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before speaking again. “I need to go make your lunch.”

“Wait,” you speak up, reaching for his hand to stop him from leaving. He doesn’t move, eyes back on you, waiting for you to continue. “I… I’m hungry for something else right now.”

“Angel, are you sure? If we cross this line, I don’t think I can go back.”

The last stage of grief is acceptance. Is that what this is? If you do this, then the fight in you is a candle you extinguished on your own. This was a line San never crossed. Yes, he would take your blood against your will, but not your body like this. It was a sacred gift you would give when you were ready. 

“I want you.” You stated, trying to sit up straighter in some attempt to appear more confident. “I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

His eyes bore into yours, searching for any clue of trickery. Is there another escape plan brewing inside you? He could use his compulsion and make you answer with honesty. Though if he wants your trust, then he should accept yours without hesitation. It’s only fair. 

“I… I don’t know if we’re there yet.” He answers after a moment, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. Perhaps he didn’t expect this so soon. The lack of confidence surprises you. He was genuine about not crossing this line in the sand until you took the step over it. 

You rise to your feet while adjusting your hold on his hand. He allows you to pull him closer. There’s no fear coursing through your veins. Just the spike of excitement at the potential of what is about to occur. “You said you would take care of all my needs. Was that a lie?”

“No!” San answers immediately, offended at such a claim. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Prove it then. Prove your so-called love to me.”

His lips crash against yours the second the words leave your lips. The kiss is filled with fiery passion. All of his self-restraint and desire molded into one overwhelming presence. You don’t fight when his tongue slips in to explore your mouth. There’s still a hint of coffee from when he made you a cup this morning. His argument was that if he knew how sweet you liked it, then he could make it correct. 

Once again you are reminded how it’s all for you. 

Maybe it’s time to be selfish then. If he wants to give, then you should take. Take more than you can handle. Bleed this creature in your own way. Be demanding, be spiteful with it. Keep this beast on its knees and on a short leash. Take control and have all the power. 

San only breaks the kiss just long enough for you to take a gasp of air in. Then he’s on you once more; this time he lets your own tongue explore when you prod at his lips. You notice how sensitive his fangs are when running your tongue along one. It appears to drive him wild; he can’t get close enough to you. His hands wander over your body. Fingers tangle in your hair to hold the back of your head while the other moves to the small of your back to pull you flush against him. There’s no escaping the embrace. Even when he backs you up towards the bed. 

Your legs hit the side of the bed a few seconds later, and when he urges you down, he releases his hold, finally giving you a moment to catch your breath. San watches you scoot up the bed with a predatory gaze. The corner of his lips twitches up, amused at how your heart rate spikes again. You haven’t stopped being a bug trapped in his web, and he finally gets to devour you the way he wants. 

As graceful as a cat, San slowly crawls onto the bed to join you. The mattress dips where his knees slot on either side of your thighs. His eager hands helped you pull your shirt up and off. San tossed the clothing aside, leaving your breasts on display. Out of instinct, or maybe being self-conscious, your hands rest across your stomach, obscuring his view. 

“No, angel, no,” San coos, soft and honeyed, reaching for your shielding arms. He’s cautious as he pins you down to the bed; both of your arms now rest on either side of your head. It’s a loose grip, one you could break out of if you wanted to. He’s so gentle with you. Or perhaps he’s far too lost in the sight of you under him. His eyes trail over your body, lust heavy in his voice. “Let me see all of your flawless body. Don’t be shy.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” He replies, a hint of anger in his tone now. It’s a warning, a reminder his word is law here. There is no room for disagreement.  

The words you were ready to spew remain trapped in your throat. He distracts you by using a hand to run down in one smooth motion along the length of the fabric, unbuttoning his shirt seamlessly. An impressive action, though the sneak peek of the toned body causes your breath to catch in your throat. San smirks cockily in response. He knows his beauty; he knows your conflicted feelings, and now the last wall between you two is crumbling when your shaky hands reach for him. 

He shrugs off his shirt, letting the material slip off his broad shoulders, allowing you the perfect opportunity to appreciate his muscled physique. He fed recently, judging by how there is color in his skin, a gorgeous sun-kissed tone from his human days. The more you observe, and the more you touch, you notice there are no scars, no blemishes, just a perfect form of a carved god. 

San’s eyes flutter shut as he lets you continue to run the pads of your fingers down his chest, across the planes of his stomach, and down to his pants. He’s so content, savoring this intimate moment as long as he can so it’ll be ingrained in his memories. One of your palms cups the bulge of his hardening cock. In an instant, you are rewarded with a sinful groan that rumbles through the vampire’s chest. It’s low, almost a purr of satisfaction. After all this time, his lover is touching him so intimately on their own terms. If he were a human, this would be enough for him to cum in his pants like a horny teenager. 

“You’re the only human to drive me this crazy,” San rasps out before leaning down for another kiss. He speaks against your lips. “Angel, please, tell me it’s okay to have you.”

Over you, his body quivers, waiting for your answer. There is a battle raging inside him, quite literally fighting his self-control. Despite his lack of a moral compass, he waited, knowing this would be more satisfying. There’s no fight left inside you. You are caving into the beliefs he spewed every day. 

His eyes lock on you when he speaks again. Somehow his tone is even more desperate as he continues to plead. “I beg of you. I’ll give you pleasure you never knew existed.”

“Take it.” You say, voice soft, though you had no doubt the vampire could hear you clear as day. This was it, the last barrier of defense. You were submitting all of yourself to him. “Worship me like you promised.”

Without hesitation, San sits back on his knees, hands finding the waistband of your pajama shorts. Your hips raise off the bed, and in one gentle motion, he pulls your remaining clothing down your thighs and off your body. Just like your shirt, he tosses the clothing away, now settling between your spread thighs. The vampire appears lost in a daze, taking in every inch of you that is exposed to him. 

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast warm shadows over his face. You didn’t move, lying on the rumpled satin sheet, chest rising and falling with anticipation. San waits till your legs part wider to invite him closer. A shiver traveled up your spine as his icy fingers traced along the smooth curves of your inner thighs, simply enjoying the heat radiating from your pussy. 

“Oh, angel, your body is fucking perfection,” San murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. He leans in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your hip bone. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, thumbs brushing the sensitive crease where leg met torso. “Every goddamn inch of you is so soft.”

Your fingers thread through his soft locks as he nuzzles lower. San’s lips ghosted over your pubic bone, inhaling deeply, groaning at your scent. “I wanted to taste you that night at the club. You were so wet when we danced,” he said, voice husky. Without hesitation, he drags his tongue flat against your folds, tasting the first hint of arousal. Shame warmed your face. You were already so slick, and he lapped it up greedily, his saliva mixing with the wetness to create a glistening sheen.

He parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing you fully to his gaze. “Look at this beautiful clit, swollen and begging for me,” San whispered, blowing a cool stream of air over it before diving in. His lips sealed around the sensitive nub, sucking gently at first. Once he earned your moans, he went harder, fueled with determination to get you really vocal. The love of his life was enjoying his touch, enjoying him. His tongue flicked rapidly while he hummed in approval, the vibrations sending jolts through you.

Saliva and your arousal dripped from his mouth as he worked, coating your thighs and pooling on the sheets beneath your ass. San didn’t care about the mess; he reveled in it, letting strings of spit connect his lips to your pussy each time he pulled back to admire his handiwork. “You’re so wet for me, angel. Tastes so fucking good. Better than I imagined,” he praised, plunging his tongue deep into your hole, now thrusting it in and out, mimicking a cock. All while his nose rubbed against your clit.

Your hips bucked as your moans filled the room the longer San continued. The vampire didn’t require time to breathe. He could maintain his pace, building your orgasm up. No man could ever bring the promise of a high this effortlessly, this quickly. 

“I’m going to come.” You warn, hands slipping away from the crown of his head, down to grasp the sheets in a tight hold to ground you or to keep you from ascending from this world. “Don’t stop.”

You knew enough to know San wouldn’t dream of it. His actions never faltered; he waited the wave of pleasure out until you were boneless on the bed, and your whining from overstimulation told him he was allowed to pull away. 

“Every inch of you is mine. No one will ever have the privilege of seeing you like this. Only me,” he growls, strings of saliva stretching from his lips to your dripping pussy. “Do you even know how pretty you are when you come?” he continued, eyes dark with lust. “How am I supposed to stop?”

Then he dove back in, lips sealing around your clit once more. Two fingers pushed inside you with minimal resistance, instantly curling to search for that spongy spot deep inside you. He didn’t care how much you writhed across the bed; he simply followed. There wasn’t even a complaint when your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him in place. Still, San didn’t let up, keeping his promise to worship you. 

“Come again for me, angel,” he urged, his voice muffled against you. “Give it to me. I’ve earned it.”

When your second orgasm peaks, a fresh wave of wetness floods his mouth. He swallows eagerly, chasing the excess that trickles down his chin and onto your ass. You physically can’t endure any more. Your heart beats erratically in your chest cavity, ready to shatter your ribs. It takes all of your remaining strength to push him away. 

San is a terrifying sight where he’s perched at the end of the bed. His red pupils have dilated widely, just as they do when he feeds. The entire lower half of his face and chin is soaked. The monster he is would’ve refused to stop despite being drunk on your pussy. It’s a genuine threat he would spend eternity between your thighs. The thought alone has your walls clenching around nothing. 

The action doesn’t go unnoticed. A switch flips in the vampire’s mind, and he’s reminded he can fuck you properly. His gaze doesn’t leave your wet folds as he blindly reaches for the button on his jeans. He fumbles, ripping the fabric in frustration at the few seconds he’s wasting. San doesn’t even undress fully, instead pushing the denim and boxer briefs down his thighs just enough for his hard cock to be free. 

Your eyes widen in shock at the reveal of what is about to be inside you. You would never admit it to his face, but your mouth waters at the mess of precum he smears along the length when he strokes himself. San slots himself impossibly close, letting the tip of his cock rub against your pussy. It’s now when his eyes finally trail back up to you. 

With haughty confidence, he speaks. “You’re mine. Say it, angel. I need to hear it from your lips.” 

“I’m yours,” you answer, hesitation long gone. You would say anything he wanted to have him bury his cock deep inside you sooner. “I understand now. I was always yours.”

San thrives in your answer. He sinks every inch of his cock in one thrust until his hips are flush against yours. Both of his arms hook around your thighs, not only to keep you close but also to provide leverage to drive his cock in and out. There is nothing sweet about his pace. He’s not here to make love to you; he’s here to fuck you after all this time. It’s greedy, as he always is. 

“San!” you cry out, not from the pain but the power behind the vampire’s thrusts. “Sannie, please.”

“You don’t have to beg, angel.” He says, while rutting his hips even faster. His cock now presses impossibly deep, the tip brushing against your cervix to the extent that it’s almost painful. The walls of your pussy mold around him, clinging to keep him buried in you. Your own orgasm comes suddenly, and the wetness fills the room with the sound of skin on skin. You should feel ashamed for allowing this beast to have you. 

“Yes, that’s it.” He moans shamelessly, eyes threatening to roll into the back of his skull. “Come for me. Don’t you dare hold back!”

As quickly as the high comes, it slips away, allowing you to focus on the creature above you. His eyes are locked on your neck, where your pulse pounds from the elevated heart rate. Fully elongated fangs peeked from under his lips. San doesn’t need oxygen to breathe, but the vampire is panting, a mix of exertion and fighting the fundamental urge to drain you dry. Even with the fear of that possibility, you tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck. A silent invitation for him to take even more of you. 

There is no second thought. The hold on your thighs is gone when San leans forward. His muscular arms wrap around your body, pulling you flush against him. The cold temperature of his skin is jarring against your flushed and sweaty skin. His fangs pierce through the skin with a slight pinch. You gasp, hearing the sound of the vampire swallowing mouthfuls of your blood. And yet, somehow, the vampire’s hips continue to rock at the same aggressive pace.

Your vision spins from the revelation or the blood loss. You’re not even sure anymore. The few seconds of him feeding last a lifetime. San eventually pulls away, letting you sink into the mattress. His hold shifts to your hips, now returning to the task at hand now that his hunger is satiated. 

Shakily, you bring your fingers to the wound on your neck. Blood coats the pads of your fingers as you smear the blood down your chest, across a breast, and right over the hardened nipple. The vampire over you licks his lips before diving forward again. His warm, wet tongue drags along the trail you made before sealing his lips around your nipple, sucking harshly till the taste of your blood is long gone.  

“I knew it would be a matter of time until you understood. It was fate for us to be together.” San mumbles, once again on another one of his delirious rants. “I mean it, you belong to me. You are never leaving. You are mine.”

You slightly nod, head swimming in the clouds as you try to focus on him. “Only yours.”

“Don’t pass out on me now. I want to feel you come around my cock again.” San demands, slipping a hand down to your pussy. His thumb finds your neglected clit, rubbing messy circles, amplifying the jolts of pleasure through your core. “Come on, I know you can.”

“Oh, San!” you gasp out, eyelids fluttering shut while you accept your fate. Another orgasm is inevitable. Is this the third? Fourth? You lost count long ago. How he’s able to build another so quickly and so easily for the nth time is ridiculous. Still, your body goes rigid, perfectly taut under him in anticipation. Release comes a second later, stronger than before. It’s overwhelming and mind-melting until no thoughts flow in your head. All you can focus on is the white-hot pleasure coursing through every inch of your body. 

The reality that San won’t stop is a real possibility. He may be selfish and go until your body gives out. You should stop this madness. Tonight shouldn’t have progressed this far. You wanted to leave. You were going to earn his trust, find a weak spot, and run far away from this place. 

And yet here you are, accepting your fate, the fight long gone. 

You are accepting what he gives.

You accepted him. 

Enjoyed what you read? Consider buying me a Ko-fi to show appreciation. All donations go to help with my medical costs.

He just couldn’t handle being in the same room as you and even if you were in a different room —he still could feel you, smell you...When he saw the cup being handled to him, an idea popped in his head — a terrible one at that. It should have made him feel better, swallowing another and then an another cup however still didn’t help him find the main thing he did it for. He tried to find the courage — to talk to you, at least look at you, but he didn’t even had the power to do that. He has seen you swiftly when you walked into the party. Still in your cheerleader outfit, hair curled and styled to frame your features. He was so quickly starstruck, anxiety rising in his chest and he really almost ran back to his room. You were everything to him.

Now — sitting across from you, he just can’t help, but steal a few looks at you for the first time since you came to their house. He finally found the power to at least look at you, but only because you were talking to his friend, sitting right next to him. He doesn’t want to wear this sad, miserable expression on his face, seeing you talk to his friend instead of him. The only way thing that helped him silence his insecure thoughts is in fact you once again as he looks you over. You look even more beautiful than before — face a little flushed, soft hair sticking to your skin. You were sitting on your knees, thighs smushed together and glistening and he swears he can taste your body lotion at the tip of his tongue.

He stayed quiet for the whole party, while you on the other hand were loud, too loud, he wouldn’t be able to get away from your voice even if he tried. He had never held this much of an attraction for someone before. It made him jumpy, fidgety and he knew that maybe it is mostly because that he had…never got a taste of someone else’s touch before. However he doesn’t want someone — he only wants you.

Hyunjin, his friend who finally stops talking to you, notices his change of behavior way too quickly. The moment the conversation ended, his eyes went to him, while yours thankfully traveled somewhere else. Still he did look away from you, scared that you would catch him staring, but some part of him wants you to see him. He wonders — what if he would look at you more? More longer, would he see you looking back at him? In his mind he knew that he probably didn’t even exists in yours.

His friend wraps his arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his body lean body. It makes him choke a little, startled by being pulled from his thoughts so suddenly. He lets his friend shake him in his hold even, but when he looked up to his face, he immediately feels his own fall. He was wearing a very big smile that made his own flush. In his glistening eyes was his answer to his question that the wished wasn’t answered at all. His attention immediately goes back to the cup in his hands, swirling around the liquid and seeing a small reflection of his red face in the alcohol males him sigh softly to himself.

His eyes fly over the room, trying to fight against the heat that makes him tug at the collar of his t-shirt. He hopes that you didn’t see anything, but how could he tell if he wasn’t looking at you again? The music pumping in the background did a little to silence his loud thoughts. He wants to glance back at you, trail his eyes down your body again and then maybe even look into your eyes. He is fighting against his own emotions. He can’t risk to reveal himself, reveal this stupid crush he has on you. It’s so childish — he is an adult, yet so behind everything. He wishes to act upon his emotions, to find the courage to walk up to you and finally say something to you. He hates that his friends get along with you so well and that there wasn’t even a single time that you would spoke to him. Maybe you are waiting for him to do that, maybe you don’t — maybe you don’t even know he exists.

Felix is slowly going crazy over you. He is drunk from a simple glance at you, from a small whiff of your perfume. You are so kind, but also witty and so fucking hot. He can’t lie that at first his thoughts about you were nothing, but filth, when he saw you practicing in that short skirt, the same one you are wearing now. Naturally his desire won over and he thinks he didn’t thought of anyone else since that day. It hurt so bad to be so far away from you, but still so close for him to see the true distance between you two. He could just lean closer, like his friends who on the other hand were confident in themselves to talk to someone like you.

Suddenly there is this big clink!, the sound making him jump a little in his seat. His eyes fall on to one of your friend’s hand, long nails clicking on a glass bottle that sits in the middle of the made up circle. He swallows nervously, hoping that he isn’t right about what he is seeing right now. However his fears come true when Changbin leans a little bit into the circle so all the attention is on him. “Wanna play something?” He says it casually, but Felix is already shaking from the thought of playing something in front of you and possibly making fool of himself.

A small scoff is heard in the corner, the dark haired man pulling his on bottle of beer away from his lips to say his opinion. “What — are we twelve?” Raising his prominent eyebrows, Seungmin leans back into your friend whose blush is even more visible than his at the moment. He silently wonders if you would ever let him do that…

“You sure act like it.” Pips up Minho, small dry laugh falling from his lips, while the other sends him a small look.

Smacking her lips, your friend Daniela shrugs softly, blowing her blonde hair away from her face. “I mean, depends on what it is–“ The others nod in unison, while Felix’s brown eyes flicker to the empty space next to you, but in his field of vision he doesn’t see you move even an inch, not giving any answer.

“Truth or dare?” Felix’s visibly gulps at the request.

“Too cliche–“ Clicks his tongue his blond friend, narrowing his fox like eyes.

“Okay…” Changbin trails off, putting his hands up. His face scrunches up for a second, eyes looking into space, before everyone sees an invisible light bulb blink over his head. “Seven minutes in heaven?” He requests, snapping his fingers at his own idea.

“Damn, you made that up all by yourself, big guy?”

Felix doesn’t even hear the loud bickering between his two friends, too caught up in the idea of playing such game. His throat becomes dry, swallowing painfully from the nerves and the thought of being locked up in some closet with someone. His mind goes naturally back to you and of course you are the only person he could think of playing this game with, but mostly he wanted to dissolve. He thinks he wouldn’t be able to play the game with anyone from this room. His stomach rumbles when, he hears you shuffling and without any self control he looks at you.

He watches you pull your hair over your shoulder, pinkish lips pressing together to blend your lipstick that is more of a stain than anything. He has to stare at you like this — with big eyes filled with wonder, but looking immediately away when your attention just briefly turns to somewhere near him. “We can play.” You say, your tone of voice strong enough to stop the playful fighting between his friends. His fingers twitch around the red plastic cup, crumpling it slightly at your words.

Would it be bad if he would literally just disappear right now? Maybe running away to lock himself up in his room, while wondering who will be lucky enough to taste your lips and touch your skin. No, he doesn’t want that to happen. Staying here meant so many possibilities, though he can’t decide if it’s worst than running away from this situation. His curiosity wins and he quickly drowns the last bits of alcohol left in the cup, one small streak of liquid rolling down is neck. He quickly goes to wipe it off, eyes going around the room, but they only stop at you again.

His body is set on fire, skin blossoming from the heat of your stare. He wants to look around again if he is just imagining what he is seeing, but when his fingers swipe across his damp skin, your stare follows that movement. The thought of you maybe zoning out is thrown over his head, because then your eyes trail higher up his long neck. Glaring at his bobbing Adam’s apple, your eyes go to his chin, bow lips and then to the freckles covering his nose, but before your droopy eyes can meet his, he evert his gaze to the shining glass bottle in the center of the small circle.

His heart beats faster, ears ringing. Felix can’t be imagining it, because it still feels like you are looking at him. In the background he overhears your name being said and he at the moment realizes that you were already picked to go first. Being so bewitched by you, he didn’t even notice that the game already started and that the bottle spinning is meant to pick the person who will be lucky enough to go with you. He is screaming inside — from your unmoving stare that drilled holes into his skull to the thought of someone going into the small closet with you. They would surely be pressing against you, they would feel your rising chest against theirs, your hot breath mixing with theirs, before your luscious lips would fall to theirs — pecking, bitting, running your tongue across their own, teeth clinking against each other…

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed, his short hairs at the back of his neck sticking to his sweaty skin, when the bottle slows down. He is counting how many times it will spin, before it will fully stop and while the bottle kept going slower his heart went faster. He doesn’t even care if anyone sees his heaving chest or his flushed face because his whole world depends on the spinning glass bottle that comes to a stop…right between him and Hyunjin. “Ah! I think it’s Hyunjin!” Exclaims Han, while he feels his heart drop to his stomach and he has to fight the anger rising in him.

However before he can make a scene and run back to his room, because he couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing you and his friend going hand in hand away from him, your voice again cuts through the room. “No.“ Your calm behavior and strong tone of voice makes everyone turn their attention to you again and when he hears your next words he sees pure darkness for a moment. “It’s Felix from my point of view.”

Felix’s nearly blacks out, eyes wide and moving to your lips. The sound of his name falling from your mouth echoes in his mind and at that he finally realizes what you just said. Everyone is quiet, not that he would hear anything else other than his own heart beat. The cup in his hand falls to the floor, when he sees you rise to your feet. He looks like a fish trying to catch its breath, face paling for a second at the way you stand before him. If he would lean forward he could smash his face into your pubic bone. He immediately feels his cheeks turning red from his own lewd thoughts.

You exchange your arm, wiggling your fingers at him, flashing your sparkly, blue nails — his favorite color. You are arguing him to take your hand, while he still sits there like an idiot with his lips parted. His lips on yours…his bottom lip is already tingling at the possibility. He is shoved forward by Hyunjin, landing on his hands before he could fall onto you. Not that he would mind, but his heart can only take so much. The smell of your body lotion mixed with your natural scent overpowers all of his senses and he has to fight back a shiver when he carefully puts his hand onto yours.

He is shaking from the fact that you know his name and mostly because from the fact he might get to feel your lips on his. Your skin is soft, fingers longer than his, but his own hand is just slightly larger than yours. He releases a shaky breath, closing his eyes in embarrassment when his and even your friends cheer teasingly. He is trying so hard to make himself look smaller, but he knows that he would hate himself even more if he would part away from you right now.

You are leading him into the small closet, good distance away from your friends, enough to give you two some privacy. He is going to be alone with you…him — his hand squeezes yours accidentally, but you don’t seem to notice his overall weird behavior. His eyes are plastered at the back of your head, before they go back to your joined hands. His inexperience — well, that’s the excuse he tells himself to justify his behavior, takes his mind go back to the many nights he spend fisting his cock to the thought of you. With the same hand…the same hand you are now holding. Felix feels pure fire in his lower abdomen, because he knows that he will not wash his hand till it is coated with his cum.

He wonders if you have any idea about his creepy and filthy thoughts, because you literally pull him out of them, when you shove him into the closet. He barely catches himself, eyes widening when he hears a small click coming from the door lock. When he straightened his back, turning around, he is immediately alarmed at the close proximity. You are leaning onto the door, but he still feels the air shift with your every small move. He can’t run now, you are preventing him from doing so and even so, he is literally frozen in his spot from the heavy silence in the small space.

The small light over his head gives minimal light, though enough to see your naked legs. Felix gulps, hanging his head low, but his long hair still couldn’t help him disappear. Why though? He actually never been so happy, yet so scared at the same time. Your nature is making him all fidgety, a mess to be precise and it is you again who breaks the silence. “Do I scare you?” You ask, voice low, but clear.

He frowns a little at your question. He hopes that he’s not making you uncomfortable with his actions, but his main concern right now is finding his voice again. “N-no, of course not.” He coughs a little, clearing his throat. You do scare him a little, but just not in the way you think. Felix can’t believe that is the first thing he ever said to you — no, he knows that it is all, but that.

He heard your earrings jingle, titling your head to the side to see his face better. “Then why won’t you look at me?” He is quiet again, because he can’t just tell you the truth. He knows he will crumble at your feet if he would look at you right now. You still sound calm, not angered or annoyed by him thankfully. You uncross your arms then, his eyes falling momentarily to your cleavage. Your crop top is dangerously low, the tops of your soft breast spilling over the hem and he has to avert his gaze somewhere else. He knows that if he would linger, the arousal in him would only grow. He stopped breathing to not breathe you in, panicking when you take a small step closer to him. “Ever done this before?” You ask him, voice breathy and so delicious.

“No…I mean this — yeah I have n-never played seven minutes in heaven before–“ Felix stumbles over his words, digging his own grave by responding like that. He could have just said no, but he is slowly loosing control over his body.

His back digs into the shelf behind him, trying to escape from his own thoughts, when you lean even closer to him. You have to be playing with him or maybe he is just that easy to shaken up. You are just talking to him, but that alone makes him tremble. “You know the rules, right?” You sound so calm and confident, it makes him even more embarrassed. He is literally acting like a total loser before you — God, he can’t even look at you.

He wonders how much time has passed by, because it’s getting suffocating in the closet. His eyes travel to your legs that again take a step closer to him and he at that nearly falls backwards, hitting his head a little into one of the boxes on the shelf. “I-I, yeah…it’s just–“ Of course he knows the ‘rules’, he just doesn’t know if he can handle anything else than this. He already held your hand, that alone was enough for him for a single day. You know his name, that also is making him all giddy inside.

You must have notice his change of behavior, because you stay put in your place for a moment. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, but it’s a pity…” He eyes peak at you from behind his long hair, catching your lips forming into a small, cute pout. Every time he looks at you, he can’t look away no more that’s maybe why he is so against glancing at you. Though it’s all he wanted, this. His insecurities are taking over him so much.

“Why would you say that?” Felix says, his voice surprisingly steady. Curiosity fills him, eyes flicking quickly over you to stop and stare at your lips again.

You smile and he on the other hand gulps nervously, watching you closely. “You’re cute, I like your hair — it’s so long and thick–“ He gasps when you breathe over his parted lips, eyes widening when you twirl a piece of his hair around your finger. Your words and actions leave him speechless, shock plastered over his face.

“W-what?” His skin is on fire, breathing becoming shakier and heavier from the way your tone of voice drops in octave. In his state of shock he is left looking at you like a deer caught in headlights, completely taken back by your words. He has to be hallucinating, that’s the only explanation…but you prove him so wrong.

Air gets stuck in the back of his throat? when you lean closer to him, your lips so close to his cheekbone. “You are blushing…” His eyes screw shut, but they open again as your lips trail lightly over his hot skin. His heart is hammering against his chest and he can’t no longer control his breathing, when he feels you press your soft lips on his cheek. “Am I the cause?” Your teasing is making him mad. He doesn’t even have to answer, because you both already know.

His own lips are parted, gasping when you don’t stop at one simple peck. Felix wonders if you are doing this only because of the game, but he doesn’t care that much about that right now, when he has you kissing his face. Your pecks are slow, wet, mouth slightly open like you would swallow him at any moment. His hands form into fists, head rolling to the side, but your lips only follow him. He can’t escape your open mouth that kisses his cheeks, lips tingling at the thought of yours touching his instead.

Felix doesn’t know what to do with himself. He had never felt anything like this before, he is becoming so drunk just from these simple touches. No one ever kissed him with such hunger while being also so discrete. He lets you mouth at his skin, your lips traveling to his jaw next and your kisses only grow in intensity. They are harder, less precise. The smacks are making him hazy, shivering from the trail of saliva you leave behind, cold air making the spots tingle. Nails dig into the palms of his hands, when he feels you stop at his bare neck.

With being so close to each other you also get a whiff of his citrusy cologne. Sighing against him it makes him gasp sharply and you just know he is blushing furiously. He can feel your lips forming into a smirk, before they open again to press against him. You pull the thin skin of his neck into your hot mouth, teeth piercing him lightly just to suck harshly right after. “Oh my god — holy shit!” Felix’s voice is lower than ever, whining pathetically from your move. The noise makes his throat vibrate, sighing through your nose, before licking over the small spot you made.

Felix is sweating, shaking uncontrollably from the pleasure you give him and for once he goes to look at you without any hesitation. Your eyes are glistening, lips puffy and coated with spit. His eyes linger there, breathing deeply, before he almost chokes, when the door to the closet rattles. “Times up!” He doesn’t even know whose voice it was, already timidly putting himself back into his spot, while you don’t even flinch from the loud sound.

You are still looking at him and he at that sees how your own breathing is not much better than his. He watches you back away from him, longing stare piercing him. They are no words said, only looks being exchanged as you go to open the door to the closet. The loud noise coming from the living room, makes him snap back to the awful reality. You turn away from him, just as his hand goes to the tender spot at his neck. Pressing his fingers into it, his cheeks are bright red from the memory of your mouth on him. His own smile is however quickly wiped off his face, when he sees Minho staring at him from the doorway, a big knowing smirk on his face.

Felix frowns a little, tugging his head into his chest and almost sprinting out of the closet to catch up with you. He thought that he would maybe escape the teasing remarks, but it only became worst when he walks into the living room. Everyone instantly turns to him, pointing and giggling like a bunch of middle schoolers, but he can’t do anything other than hide behind his blonde hair.

“He’s so red!”

“Got your cherry popped, Felix?”

A loud laughs fill the room, with a series off giggles filling the room right after. He stands there mortified, eyes going over to you and he finds you already looking at him. He wants to crawl into a hole and never come back. His friends didn’t mean no harm…but saying that he’s a virgin right in front of you is probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. He can’t even say anything, because how he acted back in the closet already told you enough.

“I think it’s hot.” Felix’s stare is unmoving from yours, his friends’ teasing dying down a little from your words. “I find it hot, when a guy is a virgin.” Your tongue that was once going over his skin rolls around the one word, emphasizing it. Felix’s skin blossoms from your sentence, already forgetting about his embarrassment, simply from your words and the look in your eyes. He stands there, trying to catch his breath, still blushing and touching the growing red spot on his delicate neck.

────

The game went on for a little while after that, the whole night filled with drunken chatter and laughter. Felix didn’t touch any alcohol anymore, but he definitely needed it every time you would speak up or look at him. He wasn’t so shy with his glances anymore, maybe because he wanted to see if you were behaving differently than before. You didn’t, he doesn’t want to know if the whole interaction back in the closet maybe was just something not too special to you. It definitely was to him — you gave him his first hickey and the fact you now know that he is a virgin didn’t help him think positively. You didn’t seem repulsed, but maybe you were just being nice, maybe your compliments and your lingering stare didn’t mean that much.

When his own friends came out of the closet, looking even more of a mess than him, he wondered if it truly is just like that…without a meaning. Though he never seen you with someone, but maybe you are just private about your romantic life. Felix’s feelings for you didn’t weaver, they only grew as he still can feel your lips on his burning skin. He was quiet, just like before, but know it was highly known why — who was the cause. His friends thankfully didn’t say anything further to embarrass him and after few hours the chatter and the laughter grew quieter, till he was met with his and yours friends closing their eyes in exhaustion.

Felix went back to the closet, just to bring some of the blankets left in there to cover his sleeping friends, but he still lingered there. It was like he could still smell your perfume, taste the puffy air you two created. He fought back a shiver, stumbling in the darkness as he went back to the living room where he layed the blankets over the sleeping bodies. His eyes went to his friend, Chris, his arm wrapped around your friend who snuggled into his side. Felix can’t help, but wonder, what it must feel like to sleep next to someone like that.

Because of the darkness in the room and television playing in the background, he doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, but he does feel a breath fanning over the back of his neck. “Huh, no room left for me?” Felix can’t help, but jump at your sudden appearance, turning swiftly around.

He didn’t even realize you went somewhere and he wonders for how long have you been watching him. There is small frown on his features, eyes going back to your sleeping friends and back to you. “You will be staying?” It is a stupid question, but the thought of you staying here under the same roof as him is making him shake. In fear or excitement — he doesn’t know yet.

“Yeah, I mean I don’t want to be the only one to go back to our place…” You trail off, glimmering eyes going over the length of his body. “You have a roomate?” His frown only deepens, confusion striking him from your question. You hide your smile behind your hair, before continuing. “I mean if you have your own bedroom–“

His eyebrows hit his hairline, stumbling just a little backwards by your sentence. “Y-yeah…” Felix is left swallowing another rock down his dry throat, eyes wide and staring at you.

He watches you nod slowly and he thinks you are purposely taking long time to answer. He drinks in your smile and the way you swing cutely on your feet. You have to be playing with him, teasing him or maybe it’s just in your nature — maybe he is down bad. His heart certainly skips several beats, when you finally say why exactly you were asking such interesting questions. “Mind if I crash over?” It rolls off your tongue so smoothly, he has to do a double take.

Felix is on the edge of blacking out from the way you keep playing with his heart. The spot he still has to see and admire in the mirror tickles. He is so shocked by your small question, he stays put in his spot, staring at you like an idiot. You only raise an eyebrow at him and you definitely must notice the growing blush on the apples of his cheeks. He panics just a little more when you slowly turn around to face the staircase. “Wait!” He doesn’t know if you are already making your way to his bedroom or something, but he definitely doesn’t like seeing you walk away from him. The blond has to cringe a little from his loud voice, but he is still looking at you, watching you turn your head to him with one hand already on the railing. “You want to sleep…”

“Together.” You finish for him and he hates his mind at the moment. The world together feels so good that it makes shivers go down his spine, not to mention how he visible releases a shaky sigh. “If you don’t mind–“ You continue, but you seem to be really sure that he won’t mind it at all. You are right. Shaking his head, Felix cringes again from how quickly he answered you, but you only flash him one of your sweet smiles in return. “Okay, then lead the way, pretty boy.”

Thankfully you had turned around the moment he literally choked, pressing his hand over his throat. He follows you so fast, it’s comical. He tries to keep his eyes on the stairs, on the wall, everywhere else, but the back of your exposed thighs. However how could he not take advantage of such an opportunity? Your slightly swaying hips are right before him, the soft skin of your thighs calling to him to just lean in and bite down. Your skirt is short from this angle, it reaches just below the swell of your ass and he does hold himself back from slowing down on the stairs, because that would be one of the most creepiest things ever. He has to sigh through his nose, as he is not strong enough to fight the argue to tilt his head in hopes he could see your underwear.

The moment you reach the top of the stairs he almost falls on top of you, waking himself up from the trance you had him in. He thinks you gestured for him to lead the way, but he is already flying past you, hoping you don’t see his face. His heart beats even faster when he reaches his bedroom, silently going over the things he left in his room. He doesn’t need you to find something inappropriate. Thankfully you can’t read minds, because you would surely find something interesting things up there.

“Sorry — it’s a mess.” He scrambles inside, flicking on his bedside lamp and grabbing some of his things just to throw them in the corner of the room. He is dying inside, still not turning around to look at you as you are definitely judging his room. “The bathroom is right over there–“ He points behind him to the direction of the slightly open door.

In his small state of panic he doesn’t hear the lock clicking on his door, but he definitely sees you, because you suddenly appear right before him. “I’m actually really tired, I will shower in the morning–“ Felix nods, watching you turn to the side to stretch your limbs. He is drooling over your exposed stomach, mouth apart from the sigh of bliss falling from your lips.

“Sure…” He doesn’t even hear himself answer as his eyes are still stuck on your body, watching you bend slightly over to pick something up from the floor.

He is so mesmerized by the way your ass looks in your skirt, so he doesn’t immediately notice the piece of clothing in your hand. “Can I have this? I don’t want to sleep in this.” You tug at the bottom of your skirt, making his eyes flicker to that direction till they go to his hoodie in your hands.

Felix almost huffs, because you won’t be sleeping in your uniform, but then he starts to shake in excitement, because realizes that you are literally asking him if it’s alright to sleep in something his. “Yeah…” He humms lowly. He almost wants to give you a different hoodie, because he’s not sure how long has it been since he wash this one, but something tickles his brain. His own natural scent will be laced with yours…

Your eyes go over him, laughing shortly and he has to wonder why exactly. He doesn’t take it to his heart, it sounded mostly…innocent. Felix straightened his back and he soon notices his shaking hands. “I will…go take a shower.” You are already too caught up in the piece of clothing in your hands, looking at it from all different angles. You only hum in acknowledgment and he silently prays that there are not any stains on the hoodie. Not that he would care — the most important thing is that you will be wearing it, when he will return from the bathroom. Nothing else, just his hoodie — wearing his scent…

He basically runs to the bathroom, shutting the door a little too harshly behind him, before he rips his clothes off. His breathing is heavy, finally taking in the so needed oxygen back into his lungs, before he leans over the tub to put the water at the lowest possible temperature to clear his thoughts. Everything is happening so fast for him, too much for him to handle. From being put in that damn closet with you, to feeling your lips on him — kissing, licking and biting. He still remembers the wave of heat washing over him, when your teeth nibbled on his neck. Even as he open his eyes to stare at the tiles of his bathroom, he still sees you. Your lips pulling into a smile, the skin of your exposed thighs and your eyes — he sighs out from the memory of your glossy eyes.

He shivers instantly when the cold water hits his hot skin, biting his lip to not make any sound. It’s already torture for him as it is. You are so close to him, just a wall away from where he stands naked and thinking of you. He has to shut his eyes from the coldness, aiming the shower head to his spasming stomach. It contracts and he can’t fight the low groan, when droplets of cold water roll down his body. His hand moves naturally over his figure, washing himself, but it stops at the short hairs on his pubic bone. His eyes open, traveling down the length of his torso, before they stop at his twitching cock. It hangs heavy between his lean thighs and he has to run a hand through his hair to tug at the roots, so he wouldn’t wrap his hand around himself.

He is going crazy. The fact you are literally in his room, probably already wearing his oversized hoodie and maybe nothing else is simply too much for him. You will soon be laying on his bed where he spend hours fantasizing about you — biting into the pillow he will give you to sleep on, the one he dry humped like the desperate virgin he is. Everything is too much for him and unwillingly his hand falls to his stomach again. His fingers dance across his hard muscles, no one else but you on his mind as his hand falls to his half hard cock, squeezing immediately at the base. His eyes screw shut for a second, mouth falling open in a silent moan, relief washing over him, but he soon realizes how wrong this is.

His hand is replaced by the shower head, cold water sliding across his aching tip and he has to hiss quietly, biting his lip at the sensation. It doesn’t help him immediately, humping basically thin air in hopes he would cum quickly. He knows he won’t be able to control his body nor his mind, but his cock does soften enough for him to finally wash himself. He wants to stay in the shower forever, but he knows that he will have to come out eventually. He has to see you in his bed, in his clothes — Felix turns the water off. He is wants to sob in frustration because he can’t seem to calm down. It’s your fault…

Drying his body off, he is left in terror, when his eyes fall on his pajamas — the ones in deep blue color with teddy bears on it. He almost bangs his head into a wall, groaning at the thought of you seeing him in something line that. However he still puts them on as there was nothing else to wear, face scrunched up in absolute agony. He doesn’t look at his body, but his eyes catch something in the mirror that makes him freeze.

On his neck, hidden by wet strands of his blonde hair is a red spot. His fingers circle around it, pulling at his slightly tender skin, realizing it is slowly fading. You — you will be the death of him for sure. He can’t escape you. He can’t keep his eyes open, because he will only imagine you before him, he can’t even close them without dreaming about the way your soft lips traveled across his skin. His tongue peaks out of his mouth to lick his dry lips, before his eyes go to the closed door behind him.

It’s dark in his room as he squeezes carefully through the door, like he was trespassing. The lamp he had flicked on is now off, the only light in the room being the Moon that peaks out from behind the curtains. He is thankful that you can’t see him and he is thankful even more when he realizes your front is turned away from him. However he can’t help, but stare. You are already in his bed, under his blanket, hair peaking from behind his pillows. His eyes look over to your back, covered in his hoodie. The blanket over your body is placed in a way that he can still see the sliver of skin of your naked legs.

He doesn’t speak, not even breathes as he nears his bed, but he has to wonder if you are already asleep. He sees your side rising and falling in a frequent flow and he finally finds the courage to lower himself onto his bed. He is so careful…he doesn’t want to wake you up, maybe if he would turn to face the opposite side it would be like you weren’t even there. Though he can feel you, he has to twist his fingers over the blanket, while he shuffles onto his back. The soft duvet falls on him, air fanning over him and he sighs out when he feels the heat coming from your body.

You are so warm, so inviting. His head rolls to the side, hand that is nearest to your laying form twitching to touch you. It’s wrong, but he justifies himself by saying to himself that he needs to warm up his cold body. Maybe it is how sleepy he is getting or maybe it’s the fact you are not aware of his actions, but he is finding the boldness that was hidden inside him. He firstly rolls onto his side, just few centimeters away from you and he at that sighs again. He does that a lot, when it comes to you. He just isn’t bold enough, confident enough to make the first move — but didn’t you already? Or was the game truly just a game? It certainly wasn’t for him.

He jumps a little, when you stir, shuffling back into him. You get so close so fast he can’t do nothing, but gasp quietly as you press your back onto him. His hand still in the air from debating if he should wrap you in embrace freezes. He can’t breathe, every small move of his chest makes him touch your back. His short, rigid breaths blew away the hair over your ears and he soon let’s himself fall. His body slumps, letting his arm fall lightly over your body and he wants nothing more than to laugh in happiness and giddiness — however there was a problem.

With the way he layed back back against you, it made his crotch graze your ass. “Oh…” He is quiet, lips apart from the sheer pleasure the move just gave him. Felix feels his cock twitch in his pajama’s pants and his eyebrows furrow in concentration. He can’t move, he can’t do it again, he can’t, he can’t — his head rolls backwards as his hips jump forward again, till he can feel his cock laying between your cheeks.

His eyes are wide, crazed. The hand holding the blanket over your unmoving body, scrunches up the soft fabric. The cold shower didn’t help, the only thing that could truly help him is cumming. Thinking about you…he doesn’t even need to when he has you right next to him, completely unaware. It’s so wrong that he can’t even move against you smoothly. It’s inexperienced, unsure and he feels nothing, but dirty, yet it sets fire in him. It burns — hurts, but he can’t stop.

His cock is hard, pulsing tip leaking so much precum it seeps through his pants. Being so close to you, he finally notices that you don’t have your skirt on, because his cock is basically dragging between your ass cheeks. He wonders what you look like under the blanket — why didn’t he look under your skirt the time on the stairs? It would for sure help him get to his orgasm faster. His tongue pokes out his mouth, just hungry for a small taste. His hand immediately flew to his neck, fingers going over his fast pulse to the spot at his neck, pressing into it harshly. He can’t let it fade away…

He feels so pathetic and filthy, but something deep inside side of him told him you would like it. You would thrive in how pathetic he looks, humping you, grinding his untouched cock on you. He gasps lightly, hand gripping the blanket so hard he hears it tear. The flush of your ass sits perfectly against him and his bottom lip starts to bleed a little from how hard his teeth pierce his skin. His upper half lays back on the bed, lazily yet desperately rutting against you and then his worst fear comes true just as he feels the first sparkle of his upcoming orgasm.

“Felix?”

“Shit–“ He curses, stilling against you with shaky breaths. Your voice was quiet, but he knew he didn’t imagine it. He is sweating, unmoving, but his lower half is still pressed against your ass. Your voice and the way you stir a little in your spot strikes fear in him, ready to cry, because you definitely caught him in the act.

“You sleeping?” You are whispering, back still facing him and he wants to nothing more than die right now. He still keeps quiet, eyes shutting and pretending. Is that even possible? You can hear feel his heavy breaths and twitching cock sitting against you. “Felix — I know that you are not actually sleeping.” It’s just a dream, that’s what he hopes it is.

For him it feels more like a nightmare. You caught him literally humping you and he never felt so humiliated. Was he that desperate? He can’t believe himself even and he definitely can’t believe when you suddenly roll your ass back into him. “What–“ His mouth open, series of gasps falling from him.

He can’t see your face, but he definitely sees the way you shift in the bed to move closer to him, arching your back. He is speechless, wide eyes staring at the way you start to roll your hips against him. “You need help with that?” He has to fight back the argue to whimper at your moves. It feels so much better than when he was doing it. He is overwhelmed by so many emotions right now, drunk on you and he literally can’t even find his voice at the moment.

“I-I–“

Felix is basically babbling, whine almost falling from him, when you stop moving to roll over to face him. “Talk.” Your voice is strong, piercing his ears and all of his senses. He can see you features subtly, your eyes glossy just the same as back in the closet.

He wants — no, needs it. He needs your touch so bad and he almost chokes from how desperate he is. “Y-yes?”

You don’t waste anymore time, basically jumping at him the moment the word leaves his mouth. You surprise him by pressing him down on the mattress, nails digging into his shoulders. The slight sting makes him whine, hand shooting to cover his lips. You only smile drunkly at him, sighing out a short laugh as you swing your naked legs over him to strandle him. He is shaking, nearly crying in delight seeing you on top of him. He doesn’t touch you, he thinks he doesn’t even deserve it, but your own hands travel down his chest greedily, making goosebumps appear all over his body.

He fights the argue to lift his pelvis and slam his cock into you, mesmerized by your soft figure covered in his hoodie. It hangs over your frame, even for him it was a little big, but he still could see the curve of your waist and your upper thighs. You hover over him, teasing him, hands going over his hard chest, nails scratching him lightly. He swear you have never looked better than this — he wishes for your lips and like you could truly read his mind you slowly lean into him.

Your frame looms over him, caging him and the hand over his mouth is put away by you. Your touches are soft, but behind your eyes is fire he had never seen before. His brown eyes fall to your lips, your tongue running over them to wet them. He can feel your breaths fanning over his face, smelling the cheep sugary alcohol you had. He doesn’t say it, but his lips move, forming and mouthing your name in a silent prayer that you soon fulfill.

Your lips are on his and he melts immediately at the plushness. Your pecks are soft, light even, switching between his upper and bottom lip. Even like this he can’t keep up, he shared kisses only few times before and this is definitely so much different. He is gasping into your mouth, pushing into you harder when your body slightly falls onto him. You tilt your head, pink tongue poking at his bottom lip. Your hair tickles his face as you deepen the kiss, tongue now touching his and it makes his whine yet again, only now it is swallowed by your hungry mouth.

“Oh, fuck — Y/N–“ Felix mumbles into your lips, tongue vibrating around yours, chest heaving wildly. One of your hands trail lower, fingers stopping at his erected nipple. You rip a groan out of him when your nails scratches the nub, deliciously burning sensation only left behind. He didn’t even know he was sensitive there…His blissful state is ripped away from him when you pull away from him, string of saliva connecting your mouths. He immediately chases your lips, startled just a little when you boop his nose.

His eyes open, catching your smile just in time, while he is only able to look at you sheepishly. He watches you — how you bite your lower lip that was seconds ago on his, how your own face is a little flushed. He could feel the hear radiating from you. However your smile slowly disappears as you shuffle lower down his body, hands tugging at the blanket covering him. “W-hat…what are you doing?” His breathing his heavy, sitting up on his elbows, eyes almost rolling back into his skull from the view of your face so close to his covered bulge.

“Is it true?” You ask him, looking up at him intensely. “Nobody ever touched you?” His cheeks are red, but he finds himself shaking his head slowly. It’s somehow embarrassing to admit it before you, but you don’t make fun of him for it nor make him uncomfortable. He is shaking only because of the of unknown. He watches you closely, big doe eyes staring at your hand that plays with the edge of his blanket. “Want me to blow you?”

Felix’s mouth falls open. “Oh! I don’t–“ He finds himself gulping again nervously, fidgeting under you.

“Don’t?”

“No! I mean, yes–“ He closes his eyes for a second, painfully aware of how awkward he is acting. He is fighting against his insecurities, hating how little of experience he has. Though something way stronger is currently taking over him – lust. Felix only opens his mouth when you finally uncover him, revealing the prominent imprint of his aching cock. Your hands are on him immediately, caressing, fingers just barely touching the upper parts of his thighs. “Please…” It comes out as a whine and he mewls silently when he sees the wet spot on his pants.

He is ashamed that he would probably cum all over you while you would be soundly sleeping, but you seem far from angry. Just like in his wild fantasies you are enjoying how desperate and borderline pathetic he is. You are dripping, soaking from the sight of his face — furrowed eyebrows, puffy lips glistening in the soft light just like his big, brown eyes. He looks like a wet dream. Your hands stop sliding over his legs, fisting the waistband of his pajamas pants.

He is so nervous, ready to press a pillow into his face. He still actually thinks that this is all just his imagination when the soft hairs on his pubic bone are revealed. He is thinking, so much — should he have shaved beforehand? But how would he know that you will be under him like this tonight. You do not look at him any different, he actually thinks you look a little more dazed from the sight of his happy trail. He can’t believe he is actually the cause of you looking like this – you are looking desperate as well and your actions definitely show it when you push his pants down in hurry.

Felix makes a small noise, when the cold air hits his leaking, red tip. His head rolls back for a second, when his cock hits his stomach harshly, before traveling his eye back to yours. You are looking at his face to his surprise, watching closely every twitch on his face when your hand trails to grasp him. It feels so different and so good from his own hand. He needs to hear your voice, hear you talk — praise him, degrade him, anything.

His chest keeps rising quicker, breath shuttering when you finally look at his cock. You twist your hand around him, thumb running over one of his veins that are ready to burst at any moment, before it stops at his swollen tip. It’s heavy, veiny, perfectly thick and just the right length – Felix really hides well his filthy cock behind his angel like face. You don’t need to look at it more closely, touching it and feeling it pulsate in your grasp is enough and also why would you look at anything else than his his face when the moon perfectly illuminated his features.

He doesn’t know if he should watch you or not, but he just can’t look away from you when your tongue rolls out of your mouth. He watches spit drip down his cockhead, your thumb smearing the liquid around him. Your grip is too tight for him, already so sensitive from just this erotic sight. A moan, a little louder than he expected falls from him as you lick at him teasingly. The sensation is new – wet and hot…your muscle wraps itself around his tip, before he feels your lips on him.

Felix has to sit up a little more to straighten his back, puffing out his chest from the feeling. His arms shake under his weight, gasping. Your own sound of arousal is muffled by his cock, tongue vibrating around him and the soft and wet skin of the inside of your mouth is just simply amazing. You suck at him, small sound of your throat opening up to him echoing in the room. Your back is arched, ass in the air like you are just imagining his cock drilling into you instead.

Your lips part around him a little, letting your saliva flow out of your mouth. His legs if they wouldn’t be digging into his bed would shake from your delicious mouth. Your spit stops at your fist, pulling him out of your mouth to smear it all over him. He doesn’t even have time to whine in complaint. “You taste so good…you like it?” Your last word is silence as you put your hot mouth back on him.

He is fighting, trying so hard not to close his eyes and just let himself be overpowered by the sheer pleasure. You are taking more of him, swallowing around him repeatedly and breathing heavily through your nose. “Yes…how are you doing that — ohhhh–“ You fight the argue to gag, when you take more of him into your mouth.

You suck harder, hand leaving the base of his cock to press against his hard abdomen to brace yourself. Your eyes are starting to fill with tears, but the soft whines and whimpers falling from him are worth all of your discomfort. They fill up his quiet room, making your panties damp from the all different sounds. The raw, salty taste of him is getting into your head and not to mention the fact you are the first person to see him like this. He is trembling, literally losing his mind over how good you are making him feel. He is not shy about meeting your gaze anymore, because he can’t simply glance away from how you are mouthing at him.

Your other hand that isn’t keeping his lower body at place comes to fondle his heavy balls, making a particular loud, low moan fall from his parted lips. “Shhh, quiet, baby–“ You sush him and even with your warning you don’t make a move of not continuing your moves.

The petname makes his hips trash harshly , hand falling over yours and grasping it in a tight grip. He is shaking his head, on the verge of tears as he feels his lower tummy rumble. “Shit – I’m sorry–“ He is being even louder than before – gasping, moaning wildly and then you feel his cock twitching against your tongue. “I’m so so sorry, fuck!” You think that he tried to pull your head away, maybe not to swallow his hit cum or maybe not to let himself finish so soon, but something about him losing against his own self control drives you mad, not missing a beat.

You are not strong enough to hold him down anymore, letting him use your mouth, rutting the same way he did a few minutes ago against the swell of your ass. His tip hits the back of your throat, choking a cough around him, but you don’t move away when you hear the long whimper and his hot load shooting down your throat. Felix is experiencing euphoria — its everlasting and mind blowing. He hears your moan, feeling you swallow around him and that only heightened the overall experience for him.

Felix falls onto the bed, trying to catch his breath, exhausted beyond point. His head is spinning, hand smearing his dried tears of pleasure all over his face. He is floating for a moment, not too sure where he begins and where he ends, but it surely must be somewhere near you, as he sees your face hovering over his. “You did so good…” He is humming already, watching your lips form into a pout as you push his hair away from his sweaty face. You definitely could tell what is going on in his head, because you immediately place your index finger on his lips. “It’s okay, Lixie.” You resure him, melting his worries a little. “You have never done this before, it’s okay — you did good”

The fact he lasted so shortly isn’t that important to him right now. “C-can I?” He has to clear his throat, licking at his dried lips and running the tip of his tongue over your finger in the process. “Can I…touch you too?” His voice is so low that you visibly shiver from the sound.

You smile at him again, eyes trailing over his flushed face and equally happy expression, though you do watch it fall a little with your next words. “Maybe next time, lover boy. Let’s not get too greedy.” You kiss him then, long yet sweet and he at that realizes how much exhausted he is. You are right — there is still so much time…

────

So much…then why didn’t you call him? In the morning when he woke up, you were the first thing on his mind. Shivering from just the memory of your lips, his hand reaches over to your side of the bed, but you weren’t there. No trace of you, his bed was empty and cold and he felt his heart shattering. You weren’t in his bathroom taking your promised shower, nor you were downstairs. The living room was still a mess, yet no bodies were splayed there. He almost thought he woke up in a mere nightmare, till he heard noises coming from the kitchen.

Minho’s back was facing him, his other two friends turning to look at him with knowing smiles that however soon fell at his sour expression. It was quiet, no one asking him anything, but his best friends could see right through him. After a cold glass of water they told him you left with your friends in the early hours of the morning. Felix shouldn’t feel so sad, but the fact you didn’t even texted him the next day or the other day was telling him something. Maybe he had done something wrong? Maybe you were just pitying him…no, you didn’t seem like the type to this. But what can he know? He only knew you from a far, watching you and wondering what it would feel like to be yours.

Something also was telling him that you were actually not ignoring him. He didn’t see you around, but it was like you were breathing down on his neck. Waiting…maybe you were waiting for him. He hopes you are not. He can’t, even after what happened between you two, face you. He thinks he will only think about you sucking his cock, lips smeared with his release. But that’s not all — there is so much more than the lust and desire he feels for you.

He couldn’t sleep for the past few days, but thankfully it was spring break, so no more torturing himself in school for a while. Though his thoughts were slowing driving him mad. He didn’t even go to the trip him and his friends were so looking forward to, he knew that he would only think about you the whole weak. His friends let him stay behind, leaving him with sad glances and warm hugs. He tried everything not to dream about you, your body, face — but of course he always ended up with his cock in his hand, chasing the pleasure only you can give him.

He has to bite down on his lip, still not being able to enjoy himself fully, even if he was all alone in the house. His cock burns from the way he kept grinding onto his pillow, squeezing it harder around him, till his knuckles turn white. It almost hurts more then it feels good as he was chasing his orgasm what felt like for hours. His thighs spasm, whining in exhaustion as he slumps forward, burying his face into his blanket. His hips shutter when he suddenly smells the light scent of your perfume, nose digging into the blanket. He doesn’t stop fucking into his pillow that sits between his legs, mouth open, biting down at what he wished was your neck.

A ringing sound, muffled by the blanket echoes around his room and when it reaches his senses he has to groan. Felix goes to sit back on his knees, shirt falling down to cover his red chest. He doesn’t even look who is calling him, wiping the drool rolling down his face, mad about being interrupted. “Yes?” His breathing is shallow, voice rough and deep, while his eyes fall down to his irritated cock.

“Hi, Felix.”

Your sweet voice fills his ears, tugging at his heart. He immediately feels himself twitching, eyes closing for a second. “Y/N…” He doesn’t even care how he sounds, how painfully obvious it must be from his shaky breaths. He thinks firstly that he is again imagining this, pulling his phone from his ear to look at the unknown number. Did you asked for his number?

“Wanna come over to our place?” You ask sweetly and the question hangs heavy in the air for a second as he looks down at his cock.

“I don’t know…”

He hears you click your tongue, the sound making him remember how you swirl the muscle over him. “Don’t sound so sad…wanna talk to you.” You are cooing at him, but those last words were said with a very different tone. It makes shivers run down his spine. “Nobody’s home.” Your whisper sends him almost over the edge from how seductive you sounded. Looking down at his leaking cock, he has to sigh at how much your offer made him feel so much better already.

So now — he finds himself sitting on your bed, eyes plastered onto your small tv at the corner of your bedroom. The movie you picked is just a background noise, too caught up in your decor, eyes trailing over each detail like it would be last time he would see it. Maybe it is…he looks at your profile from the corner of his eyes, silently judging. Your behavior was the same as always when you opened the door for him. Cheery, smiley, while hiding something behind your eyes. You didn’t touch him to his displeasure, not even a small hug or a kiss. It is reminder that he isn’t yours and you aren’t his. It makes him sick.

Your covered legs are touching his, upper body cuddled into the corner of your bed. You look pretty — like always, but today you choose to be in just sweatpants and a tank top to his delight. Your face is bare, soft looking from his spot. Your bed is comfortable enough to make feel better, to find strength to ask you the question that keeps bugging him. “You didn’t call me.” It flies out his lips rather smoothly, voice loud enough to make you slowly turn your head to him. “…after that night — why?” His heart jumps when his eyes meet yours and he thinks he sees a small regret in them.

“I did…otherwise you wouldn’t be here, would you?” Your smart remark isn’t helping him at the moment, frustrated by how calm you seem. But then he watches your brows furrow, looking him up and down, before staring back at the frown on his face. “Lixie, I hope you don’t think I ghosted you…” Your small question isn’t answered and you genuinely look full of regret. Your bottom lip is pronounced, sitting up on your knees to look a him more closely. “Oh, Lixie — you know I enjoyed our time together as much as you did.“

It is the truth, you haven’t stop thinking about him and the intimate moment you two shared. Your hand falls onto his shoulder, squeezing it in recurrence, licking your lips at the memory of his salty cum. “Really?” He is peaking at you from behind his hands, big eyes searching yours and you feel warmness spreading across your whole body.

“Yeah, I just didn’t want to overwhelm you, baby.” Another nickname, this one piercing his heart more than the other. You are leaning closer to him, pushing his hands away from his face, deja vu washing over him. There is this look again, your eyes becoming droopy the more you lean on to him, touching your chest with his side. “You don’t even know how hard it was for me not to take you right there…when you looked so good — teary eyes, lips all red and puffy–“

Felix’s gasp is silenced by the softness of your own lips pressing against his. It tickles, featherly light and way too short. His cheeks are dusted pink, highly aware of your breasts grazing over his arm. “I…have been thinking about you.” He doesn’t want to lie nor be quiet anymore.

Watching your lips form into a small smile, you look up at him so sweetly he melts into your bed. “I hope so–“ Hearing a small laugh coming from you makes him smile also, but it falls a little when you unexpectedly move even closer to him. Your face is next to his, your frame caging him under you yet again, but now it feels even better. “Did you touch yourself?” You whisper into his ear that twitches from your words. He is silent, flustered from such question that you both know the answer to, but you seem to enjoy riling him up. “Felix?”

He closes his eyes, shuttering when your lips graze his ear lobe. “Yes…” He can’t lie, you can already see right through him.

“How?”

A small sound gets stuck at the back of his throat, when you lick over his jaw. Goosebumps rise all over his trembling body and being so quiet wasn’t so clever as you only climb your way up his body. His eyes instantly snap open, staring at your face so close to his. He sighs, when you sit down onto him, right down on his already hard cock. Your weight puts the perfect amount of pressure and Felix looks already like a complete mess. “I–“ You tilt your head at him, waiting patiently for him to answer while he quivers nervously. “I…h-humped my pillow.” He wants the bed to swallow him whole, he wants to disappear from the existence as he confessed his embarrassing secret.

You — you on the other hand, can’t help but sigh. The sound is foreign, like you were getting off from him being so flustered. The expression on your face definitely tells him how much you find his words arousing. You lean back over him, pushing his hair from his face, but not releasing the strands from your grip. “So cute…” The word doesn’t compliment your actions as you ground onto him, mouth catching his whimper. “Fuck — wanna eat you all up again–“ Moan leaves his mouth that he presses against yours. “What exactly have you been thinking about?”

His answer gets stuck at the back of his throat as you move to assault him there with open mouth kisses. Felix tried to keep his eyes open, but fails when you nibble on the faded spot on his skin. “You — your mouth a-and–ah!” Your suck harshly at his throat, making him stutter.

“And what?” You want his answer, he wants to give them to you, but the way your teeth graze the thin skin, right over his pulsing vein, he has trouble finding them.

“And how you feel like–“

You stop at his words, pulling away from him to look deeply into his blown out pupils. “Oh? You want that?” You are teasing him meanly, almost like mocking him as he nods quickly. “Wanna make me feel good too?” Felix only shakes his head again, hands forming into fists by his side.

“Please–“ It’s the only word he knows at this point. He wishes nothing more than to make you feel good, make you feel the same amount of pleasure you give him. He wants to see you crumble, shaking, moaning from every subtle touch of his.

You pull him against you, placing his hands on your waist. Your mouth is hot, spit everywhere as it didn’t seem like kissing anymore, just simply devouring each other. You roll your hips over him, center right over his and your small movements send his mind spiraling. Felix wants to sob from how delicious you taste and feel. His grip is shaky yet strong and he follows you when you fall backwards, so he his now the one on top. It still is so clear, who has the power. Your lips melt into each other, biting and smearing your mixed spit all over your faces. He is drunk on you again, almost forgetting you gave the permission to touch you back as you again his hand and placing it over your breast.

He moans, head tilting to look down st the sight. His hand fits so perfectly around your right breast and that is really getting into his empty head. Your hand on top of his squeezes, him gasping and you moaning. “More–“ You are however not pleading him. Moving his hand away from your breast, you trail it down your stomach right to the waistband of your sweatpants. “Right there.” He is gasping, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at his hand so close to your pussy and then back to your face.

“I don’t know what to do–“ Felix won’t cry, but the thought of not making you feel good is breaking him. His small pout is kissed away, just barely shoving the tip of his fingers under your clothes.

“Gonna teach you–“ Your short kisses are hungry, chest heaving from your own desperation. He doesn’t say anything else, attention at the way you release his hand from your hold to give him his own control over your pleasure.

Your lower tummy is so soft, little squishy. Your sweatpants are dangerously low, giving him just a glimpse of the black lace covering your mound. Heat is radiating from your center, pushing his hand slowly into your pants, but still not going under your panties. Your hips jump, hands running over him like in a silent plea and he finally at that fingers the soft lace of your underwear. He is sweating, nervous about touching you somewhere wrong, but that’s your queue.

The first thing Felix feels is thick wetness coating your panties, fingers reaching deeper and dipping in your soaked cunt. It’s soft — like the rest of you. Dripping and hot. His mouth is open, eyes looking nowhere in particular as he is taken back by your anatomy. The way he can see his hand moving under your clothing is driving him crazy. His fingers go so lightly over every dip, your labia, hole to the small peak at the top that particularly makes you moan. Your hand finds his again, turning to catch your darkened eyes, while you move his fingers over the nub again. “Feel that? That’s the clit.” He is nodding, licking away the drool in the corner of his mouth.

You moves his fingers over it in tight circles, eyes falling shut, while his are wildly staring at your face. You press his fingers harder against you, sighing, back arching a little. He can’t believe he is making you look like this. “Fuck–“ Felix feels his hard cock twitching painfully, watching you so closely that it creeps you out a little.

Your sounds are becoming more frequent, short, chasing after his hand that he is now moving on his own. Though it’s not enough for you. You need something to fill you up, relief the ache between your legs, so you push his hand lower, making him stumble in his moves. You wrap your own fingers around his index and middle one, trailing them over your pussy till they hit your entrance. Both of you moan just at this and you leave him anxious when you withdrew your hand, completely leaving him to be your pleasure.

He watched so many videos, fantasizing. He would moves his fingers according to the person in the video, mimicking them and picturing your cunt instead the one displayed on the small screen of his phone. Now he is imaginations are turning into something real and raw. Felix without even looking away from you, presses his fingers into you, dipping into your hungry hole. Your small whimper tells him to keep going, rutting against his fingers that only go deeper into you.

Your walls contract around his two fingers, sucking them in and he trembles, because how must you feel around is cock? You dig your fingers into his back as he starts to move his fingers, in and out, before curling them, just like he has seen in the videos. The girl in the video however looked nowhere as amazing as you nor moaning this much as he repeats the move couple of times. “So good–“ Your praise is just a mumble, heat flooding your lower tummy when he scissors his fingers inside you.

You are now the one speechless, because how come a virgin can make you crumble from just his fingers? They are not the longest, but he somehow manages to take advantage of that as your soft spot is right under your opening. He is not even realizing it, but his palm keeps bumping into your clit, sending waves of pleasure. You don’t even know what to say anymore, he is already perfect at what he is doing. Your blurry eyes are having a hard time to stay open, but you can make out his concentrated face, tongue poking out his lips.

“Gonna–“ His head snaps immediately to you, quite comically. His fingers are not stopping drilling into you, wet squelching noises feeling up the room. He looks crazy — with his wild, wide eyes staring at you, licking his pretty, pink lips. You can’t fight the rumbling in your tummy, liquid fire drowning you in a immense pleasure. You have to hold his forearm to brace yourself, legs shaking around his hand and he thinks he can just cum from seeing your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your body is trembling, his hand stopping as you keep pushing at it, because he literally couldn’t stop. Your moan is loud, long, body stilling when you reach your peak. He can feel your walls clamping on him, your orgasm spilling around his fingers, coating even the material of your sweatpants. Felix is looking at you lovingly, letting you pull him for a heated kiss that he finally seems to catch up.

He is literally shaking from happiness, ignoring the pain in his hand that you slowly pull out your spend pussy. When you pull away from his lips, he literally whimper when he sees his soaked hand. It’s glistening from your pleasure and he knows he is in trouble when you suddenly put his fingers in your mouth. It’s just like you did to him few days ago — sucking hard and pressing his digits down on your tongue.

“I need you–“ That’s what he whispers to you when you pull his fingers out of your mouth and your face softens at his words. “I want you to be my first.” There…it is said, the thing he wants the most.

He has never seen you so concern and so serious before. “Are you sure?” You are an angel, asking him still, even after what happened. A big genuine smile spreads across his face, nodding at your question. He thinks he has never been this sure before in his life. He wants you — only you, he wants you to be his everything. He receives a sweat kiss to his pink nose and he sighs dreamily at that. Your hands fall on to his shoulders, massaging him as you look up at him. “How do want me?”

That’s probably the worst questions you could’ve asked him, because he literally wants everything, though he has to remember not to get too greedy too fast. “O-on your back?” He almost slaps himself, because you literally just only shuffle a little lower on the bed to get comfortable. It makes the bottom of your tank top rise to your stomach, his eyes falling to your exposed skin. “Can you take this off?” He asks you, tugging cutely at the bottom of your tank top, before his fingers touch your sweatpants again.

“Only if you do too.”

You don’t have to tell him twice, ignoring the fact that this will be the first time that someone sees him naked. He is not ashamed, but still nervous enough to hold his shirt to his chest for a moment. The sounds of yours and his clothes ruffling is loud, yet yours shared looks are full of softness. Felix marvels over your figure, loving the soft rolls of your stomach as you pull down your pants finally. Your breast are covered by a thin sheer lace, hugging you perfectly and he feels giddy inside, when he notices your matching underwear. You put it on just for him…and so he didn’t think he would enjoy being pulled off of your body so much.

“So pretty–“ More than that — you are perfect. You are everything and he is sure he couldn’t pick anyone else instead of you. Your breasts are smushed together from your hands being wrapped around his shoulder, hips just the right size to grind over his.

Your fingers tug softly at his long hair, enjoying your own view as well. “Come here.” You tug him to your body, legs spreading so he could feel your centers pressing against each other. He feels just a little embarrassed when he feels the precum from his tip smearing across your skin, but it completely flies over his head, when your foot digs into his ass, making him fall fully on top of you.

His mouth falls open, when his cock is flush with your cunt, whining immediately. You play with his hair, calming as he is a little overwhelmed. Felix literally cries out, when your hand squeezed pass your bodies to touch him. Your hand finds him, pointing his tip to your clit to poke at it a little. From being so close to each other, you have no problem smearing both of yours juices everywhere. “Y/N.” He calls out to you, sobbing nearly. You don’t answer him, your soothing hand on his back told him everything, while the other finally levels his cock to your hole.

Felix is glad he chose this position, because it gives him a little control over the pleasure he receives, though it still hard not to cum right the second he slips inside. There is no resistance, your walls welcome him, pulsate around him and he is for sure that he saw pure white for a moment. He had never felt something so…wet and hot and tight and so so good. How is it possible that you are walking around the world,, when you should be up in the heavens?

You are smiling, however mostly in a small amusement from the deep frown on his face. You think you will be alright even if he won’t last long — actually, something about it makes your pussy tighten around him. You are both breathing heavily into each other’s mouths, your nails scraping against his prominent muscles. He surprises you by placing his hands over your tits, lightly flickering his thumbs over your nipples, you whining a little from the small pain his inexperience gives you.

“Take your time–“ It falls to deaf ears as he suddenly grinds into you, his tip just kissing your cervix. You don’t correct or tease him, it felt too good for you to tell him to slow down. His cock is yummy, twitching around your walls as he experimentally pull his hips back, before snapping them back into your.

That knocks the air out of him, shuddering, because you only seem to get tighter around him. His cheeks are red from his shaky moves, whining against you, because he thinks he is already going to cum. “I’m s-sorry.” He is apologizing to you, face hiding in your neck, humping lightly into you.

You feel your heart hurting from his sounds, caressing the top of his hair softly. “I-It’s okay–“ You help him with raising your own hips to meet his thrusts. “It’s okay, Felix–“ You reassure him, hugging him, while rutting against him. His cock barely dips out of you, but somehow it makes you feel just as good. Maybe it is because your clit keeps getting abused by the coarse hair on his pubic bone. “Go harder for me, baby — come on–“

Your hand presses against his perky ass, quickening his desperate moves and he moans sharply into your neck. His mouth is running across your skin, sucking the same way you did to him and he is going crazy, because you only push your neck more towards his mouth. You are letting him mark you up, letting him suck deep red splotches everywhere so anyone could see what you two have done. Moans ring in the air, wet squelching sounds coming from your joined sweaty bodies. Felix couldn’t hold on any longer, his thrusts — more like grinds are getting harder, without any rythm. Your teeth nibble at his ear, hands running all over his body and he sobs out, when he starts to feel the familiar sensation of your contracting walls.

“Please cum with me — pleaseee–“

“Y-yes–“

“Can I cum please? Please — I’ve been good–“

“So good for me, Lixie–“ You rasp out, gasping at his pace.

“I made you cum – fuck! Oh–“

He runs his mouth wildly and loudly and only that makes you cum again, head rolling on your soft pillows from the pleasure. Your sounds, your expression and voice makes him thrust into you hard, gasping in short breaths as he can’t even catch his breath. The feeling of your orgasm washing over your body, sends him to his own. His limbs shake, trying not to fall on top of you, while his hot, creamy cum coats your insides. He is completely done for — body shaking uncontrollably at the intensity of this moment.

“That’s it…” Haechan moans in between your legs, fingers digging into the flesh on your thighs that rest upon his shoulders as his tongue wiggles between your folds, slurping hungrily at your pussy that drips with cum. “Pretty thing, cum for me again. Good girl”

You’re shaking, wailing as you cum for the third time on his tongue, your hand locked on the back of his head with your fingers threading through his dark, thick hair. He laughs against your pussy, the vibrations causing you to arch your back and pull at his hair to try and tug him away but it’s no use when he’s got you caged.

The room spins and you pant heavily, blinking to regain your vision as he mouths at your pussy again, tongue flicking miniature circles around your clit and you’re mindlessly pleading for him to stop, to let you breathe and catch a break.

“You want me to stop? Hm?” He questions you teasingly, pushing himself up to rest on his knees and your legs flop motionlessly on the bed from his shoulders. Haechan crawls above you, trailing kisses from your navel to your cheeks, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling down which causes you to whine. “I haven’t even fucked you yet… can’t I fuck your pretty little pussy, baby? Fill you up with my cum?”

“Please”

“What are you pleading me for?” Haechan murmurs as he gently taps your cheek with his hand before caressing your face so lovingly that it has your heart fluttering in your chest. You don’t really know what you’re pleading him for, all you know is that right now you want him. “Want me to fuck you that bad? I thought you wanted me to stop?”

“Just—” You swallow thickly, licking at your lips. “Sensitive… s’too much”

“I’m sorry” Haechan gives you a patronising pout. “You know how much I want you. I can’t help myself when it comes to your pussy, baby… All for me, yeah? All of it?” You nod but you’re stopped when you feel the slight pressure in your cheeks from where Haechan squeezes. “Say it. Use your words”

“All for you”

“All for me” He repeats with a hum, one hand holding himself up beside your head with the other slips between your bodies to fist his cock, pushing his tip between your folds to gather the saliva and your cum left behind. “God baby I’m so addicted to you… you have no idea. Can’t get enough of you—your body, your taste, your pussy. You drive me crazy”

“I do?” Haechan meets your eyes with a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine, nudging his head against your entrance teasingly as he tilts his head to the side, lips brushing over yours, “Absolutely insane, baby”

You gasp once Haechan fills you up completely, legs tightening around his hips and whining at how sensitive you feel, pussy contracting around Haechan’s cock that stretches you out perfectly, leaving your thighs and cunt aching. 

His hand slides up from between your bodies to rest around your neck, squeezing gently as his lips mould with your own, leaving you breathless when his hips begin to thrust at a pace that has your mind whirling, feeling dizzy. 

The headboard rocks against the wall with each frantic thrust and you’re worried if the neighbours will hear and complain (although you really didn’t care a few minutes ago when Haechan had his head shoved between your legs). 

You reach your hand up to stop the headboard from hitting the wall but the second your fingertips make contact with the cold wallpaper, Haechan’s other hand curls around your wrist to drag it down, pressing it to the bedsheets with a tut as he pulls away from your lips.

“Someone might hear” You warn him, unable to draw your eyes away from his, the dark expression and swollen lips enough to make you whine softly. “They’ll hear, Haechan”

“Let them” He tells you, grunting as he shifts above you, dropping his head to mouth at your shoulder. “Let them hear how fucking addicted I am to you and how much you love my cock. I hope they can hear how wet you sound too… how your pretty pussy is sucking me in so sweetly—”

“You’re insane”

“I know” He hums, smirking against your skin as his fingers squeeze around your neck once more, fingers pressing gently against the pressure points that cause your breath to hitch at the back of your throat. “It’s your fault”

“My fault?”

“Mhm” Haechan nods as he pushes himself up to rest on his knees, releasing his hand around your neck to drag down your body, ghosting over your nipples and trailing down your stomach before resting above your pussy. 

You cry out in pleasure and in shock when he retracts his hand to slap it back down on your clit, electricity buzzing up your spine as your legs close around his figure but he laughs, using his thumb to rub small circular motions over your sensitive clit as he slowly fucks into you, cursing to himself as he watches his cock disappear into your pussy.

“Pussy so perfect” Haechan coos softly. “Can’t wait to fill you up… you’d like that? Yeah? Filling your cunt up with my cum. Do you want it?”

“I want it” You nod frantically. “I want it so bad”

“I know you do” He smiles down at you. “So fucking desperate for my cum to make a mess of your pussy, to fill you up so full… Can’t wait to have a taste, baby. Can’t wait to devour you all night”

Your eyes widen slightly but struggle to stay open due to Haechan’s thrusts, “All night?”

“Of course” Haechan loops his arms around your thighs this time, dragging you down the bed and flushed against him, resting your legs over his chest and pressing a chaste kiss to your knee. You gasp at the sudden movement, his cock buried deep inside of your pussy and your back arches, fingers gripping the bed sheets beneath you. “How else am I supposed to prove how fucking addicted I am to you?”

Some people will do anything to find the love of their life. You, well, the new year wasn't for praying for love or longing for that New Year's Eve kiss. You had no expectations for falling into the scheme of chemicals disguised as love.

So, on the very night, as others held hands, kissed, and enjoyed another year together, you partied the night away like it had no meaning.

This new year, however, your typical party-hard behavior ended with you in someone else's bed, glitter in your eyes, and your legs tangled with your enemy.

What the fuck happened?

—

11:25 am

New Year’s Day.

Your head was spinning. 

Flashbacks of the night before flooded your vision even before you opened your eyes. Your toes were peeking out of the fluffy duvet that one hundred percent didn't belong to you, your hands grasping onto someone else's.

You were afraid to open your eyes, to be honest.

Flashes of glitter, champagne, kisses, touches, dancing. It was all too much, and the minute you felt someone’s warm breath run down your neck, you became aware of the strong arm that held you to his body.

And that's when it hit you. 

Last night, after way too much alcohol and mixtures of shots and god knows what else, you shared your midnight kiss with someone you dreaded.

Well, at least used to dread.

You opened your eyes quickly, staying as still as ever to not wake him. You didn't trust your drunk mind—you wanted to make sure it was….him.

You looked down at the hand that was wrapped around you. His fingers cupped your breast, holding you to him like you were made for him. Your heart began to beat faster as you noticed how he was holding you, and you slowly moved your head to face your enemy.

Park Fucking Seonghwa.

There he was, in all his glory. His black hair still looked flawless,his lips parted as he breathed. They were swollen, painted red from your lipstick. You held your breath and swallowed hard, unable to look away from him from the shock.

Or maybe, just maybe, you thought he was absolutely gorgeous and couldn't believe he just fucked you after staying he hated you the day before.

You blinked, and finally tore your gaze from him.

It wasn't unusual for you to wake up in a foreign bed tangled in a mess of limbs. It was a part of your party lifestyle, and never wanting to settle. The man that you slept with, though, was someone you never imagined would have a one night stand.

He was too good to be true, which is why you couldn't believe it. He was fine-cut, clean, and someone who was a lover of all things traditional. He wears suits freshly pressed from the dry cleaners, round rimmed glasses, and a permanent smirk as if he was better than everyone else.

To be honest, he was. Which is why you hated him.

He was too perfect. And now, here you were, with said perfect man, your naked bodies pressed against each other. 

You let out a groan, unsure about how to get out of this situation. Ever so slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the hand that gripped your breast, prying his godly fingers off your skin. You breathed slowly as you set his hand down, and then you slipped out of the covers.

Your bare feet landed on the cold hardwood, and you let out a sigh of relief. You looked over at him before finding your dress that you vividly remember him ripping off of you, and of course, it was torn right down the middle. 

“Fuck.” you whispered, although it wasn't quiet enough.

He gasped awake, pushing himself back against the headboard. His eyes were frantic, searching all over the room until his eyes met yours. And then they trailed down, and down, and down, as he soaked up your nakedness. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest. “y/n? Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. And that's when another flashback hit you.

 “What the hell happened last night?”

—

New Years Eve,

9:05 pm.

“Make sure you bring some painkillers, y/n,” your best friend San said as you stuffed the necessities into your purse. “I know how you get.”

You chuckled and tossed a whole bottle into your purse. “I got you, Sannie.”

You and san were besties. Not just you two, but you had a whole friend group. Wooyoung, hongjoong, San, A mixture of personalities, but you liked to consider your group a bunch of party-hards. All except one of them. 

Seonghwa, who was hongjoong’s roommate, joined the friend group last new years. He was the stick up the ass friend that wouldn't like to come to parties, and his priorities lied with passing his boards. A smarty pants, of course, and you couldn't blame him for his efforts to do well. You just didn't care the same way he did.

Which is why he didn't like you.

He also studied the brain while you studied art, which he thought was tedious. He knew everything about your brain while you couldn't even pick apart his expressions, which pissed you off all the time.

“Oh, one more thing,” San poked his head into your room, a sinister smile on his face. A face you've kissed one too many times. “Seonghwa is coming.”

You went still as he stood in your doorway, your lips only half covered with bright red lipstick. “What?”

San shrugged. “Don't know why. Said he was sick of studying for once. I couldn't believe it either,” he looked you up and down then, and gave you a wink. “Anyway. You look hot. I wanna kiss away that lipstick, baby.”

You smirked, loving that you and San could do anything to each other and it meant nothing. He was the male version of you, that's for sure.

“Come here then.” you chuckled, and not surprisingly, he entered the room like he owned it, pulling you to him sexily. Everyone thought you were dating, but the truth was that you just like to kiss each other. And fuck, but theres absolutely no strings attached.

Reason number a million for why seonghwa hated you.

His lips met yours sloppily, tugging you closer as his lips parted yours. He pulled back, licking the lipstick off his lips. 

“So, who’s gonna be the lucky man tonight?” he huskily groaned, leaning back onto your vanity.

You carried on like nothing happened, and fixed up your lipstick. “Not sure. Whoever is down for some fun I guess.”

He nodded. “Of course, of course. Anyway, as much as I like to chit-chat and makeout with you, it's time to head out. I want to get there before the good alc is gone.”

You smirked, finishing your lipstick only for it to be ruined later on. 

“Alright, lets go get fucked up.”

—

10:20 pm

You entered the party an hour later, already buzzed on your pre-game chug. San gripped onto you as you entered the house, having no idea who’s it was.

“The party is here, motherfuckers.” San hollered, and everyone who was in the room turned to see you.

You were sober enough to look around, looking for the man you couldn't believe was showing up. You didn't see him anywhere, and you felt a bit let down at the thought of him not showing up.

San’s fingertips were pressed into your side as your friends came up to see you. “Ah, there you guys are. We figured you were fucking as per usual.” Wooyoung cockily spoke, a smile on those pretty drunk lips of his.

Hongjoong snorted, holding a can of beer tightly in his hands. “You're so right.”

You shook your head this time, looking at San, who was staring at you hungrily. “Nah, just a quick makeout sesh. Didn't want to zip this dress back up.”

“Nah, I could've just lifted it up.” San smirked.

You were too busy staring at San to notice the man of the hour coming up behind your friends.

Seonghwa looked pained, his pretty eyes hidden behind his glasses. He held a beer in his hand, looking out of place from his stuffy persona. His long legs were covered with tight black dress pants, and his chest was covered in a matching suit coat and a turtleneck.

You couldn't lie, it pissed you off that he was hot.

“Hwa, there you are,” San giggled, already drunk off an unknown amount of vodka shots. “You're looking fine as hell tonight.”

You moved your gaze to the tall man, his expensive aura rubbing off on you. His eyes were sending daggers at San’s grip on your waist, and then he brought his gaze up to yours. “Thanks.” is all he said, his smooth voice enveloping your senses.

You looked him up and down with an arch of the brow. “Seonghwa.”

He did the same to you, although his piercing eyes were judging your every move. “Y/n.”

You scoffed at the disdain of his tone, knowing that this party was going to be the death of you if you stayed this sober. You looked up to San, who was already looking at you. “San, could you get me a drink?”

He went off like he was your servant, leaving you alone with your friends. That is, until hongjoong gave wooyoung a knowing look. “We're going to get drinks too. Bye-bye.” hongjoong chuckled, knowing he was leaving you with the enemy.

You rolled your eyes, unable to meet your gaze to Seonghwa’s fierce one. It was quiet between you two, desperately needing him to either leave or speak. 

To your surprise, he did the latter.

“I see you're enjoying winter break, clearly,” he hummed, bringing the beer can up to his lips. You couldn't help but watch as they got wet, and how he licked them clean while looking at you. “Maybe too much.”

Stupid stupid stupid. He shouldn't be hot. It's not fair.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What do you mean by that?” you inquired, to which he scoffed before responding.

He shrugged. “Well, you're having fun with San and going to parties left and right. Do you ever rest?” he took a step closer to you, but you didn't back down. Even though his voice was so smooth, buttering you up even when he insulted you, you loved to play his game right back.

“Why are you here? Shouldn't you be dissecting a brain or something?” you growled, looking around for San—who wasn't back with your drink yet. “Listen, we all can't be neurosurgeons, baby. Leave the partying and sex and drugs to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, and took another step towards you. “So you are fucking him.”

You furrowed your brows at his harsh and unusual word choices. 

Two can play it this way, seonghwa.

“Who? I can name a few people in this room alone,” you reached out, using your flirtatious ways to make him uncomfortable as you always do. You ran a hand down his arm, his gaze hardening on you. “Are you interested? You know I like it rough. I’m sure San tells you all about it—”

“Slut.” he hissed, his eyes black as night as your hand wrapped around his forearm. It's not a word you should take lightly, but hearing him call you that actually did the opposite you expected. You felt warm, your stomach tingling lower and lower and lower.

Your eyes lit up as they met his. “Oh? We’re name calling now, huh?” you pulled him to you, and he stumbled into you. You reached up and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Sucks for you, four eyes, I like being degraded.”

He didn't make a face. He just stared down at you, his lips flat without emotion. His eyes, however, danced with lust from the look you were giving him. After a moment of tearing each other apart, you pushed him away, leaving him standing alone as you went to go find San. Before you left his sight, you turned around and gave him a flirty wave, catching him scoffing one last time before leaving the room.

—

11:30 pm

It was a blur. You were already on your seventh, maybe tenth drink, feeling your body warm from the toxin you call alcohol. You had a habit of dancing when you were drunk, and that left you in the middle of the room, grinding on San and some other random dudes.

In your hand was a red cup of something that tastes like peach whiskey, and it nearly spilled as San’s hands were all over you. The edge of his fingertips danced at the curve of your hip, your arms reaching the sky as his lips were on your neck. Little did you know that more than one set of eyes were on you.

Seonghwa sat on the leather couch, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed. He was drunk off a whole bottle of orange vodka, which scared him a bit. He was unsure of what he would do—or say—to you. You had no idea why he hated you, but oh, some choice words might spill out of his mouth tonight as he watched San touch you like that.

He narrowed his eyes when San’s lips met yours, staring at you with so much anger he might have exploded. He kept watching, unable to break his stare from you. His eyes trailed down to the way San’s hand slid down your hips, and watched as he kissed you and smiled with cockiness.

Seonghwa didn't like how he looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Hwa stood up and made his way over to you. Within that little time, San was already dancing with another girl, leaving you dancing all alone in the midst of sweaty bodies and men that would take advantage of you.

The minute you spotted him in front of you, you stopped dancing and plastered a goofy smile on your face. “Hello there, smarty pants. Out of your element?” you asked him and began to dance again. He looked at you deeply, noticing the smudge of your lipstick.

“You seem to let anyone touch you.” He said, pushing his glasses up on his face.

You shrugged as you danced, but you were sick of him killing the mood. You reached out to him and pulled him close, and to your surprise, he didn't move away as you danced against him.

“Yeah, even you.” you smirked, grinding your ass against his dick. You were certain he was drunk enough to ignore it. “Touch me.”

He hesitated, but the alcohol took over as his hands moved on their own. He was too drunk to hide his true feelings, but at least you both wouldn't remember this in the morning. His hands slid down to your hips, and never have you ever craved someone’s touch this much.

You reached back to run a hand down his face, feeling the cold rim of his glasses. You felt how sharp his jawline was as his hands touched you like he never did before.

“I’m touching you because you want me to, not because I want to.” he huffed, but his fingers said otherwise as they curled around your dress. His head rested against yours, but then you turned around in his hold, your face inches away from his.

You tilted your face up as you saw the longing look he was giving you. God, you hated him.

“Are you sure about that?” your lips were inches away from his, his hands still gripping at your waist. You held onto his shirt, fisting it tight. You smelled his breath, his shampoo, his everything. Your vision was hazy, but you knew damn well he was the hottest man you've ever laid eyes on. “Your hands seem to like my waist.”

“I don't like anything about you,” he whispered in your ear, lips pressing against your skin. “Not even your sexy little ass. God, I hate your lips, too.”

You shivered under his touch, his hand now squeezing your ass as he breathed into your ear. 

“Oh? What’s wrong with my lips?” 

He let out a sigh, his breathing getting shallower by the minute. 

His dark eyes met yours.

“Because they don't belong to me.”

You stopped dead at his words, feeling like the whole world stopped. He stopped too, but his hands still found their home on your ass and waist.

Your heart began to beat out of your chest. No man has ever made you feel the way he made you feel. You couldn't stand it.

Ignoring his half-confession, you laughed it off. “Your breath smells like oranges.”

He smiled down at you, hair in his eyes. “That's because of the orange vodka. You smell like peaches.”

You licked your lips, really wanting to taste the oranges on his lips; in his mouth. Something was wrong with you.

“I really don't like you.” you said, looking at his lips.

“I hate you even more.”

“Well I hate you a million times more.”

He scoffed, his hands meeting your waist once again. “I hate your dress.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Is it too slutty for you? Is that all you see in me?”

He shook his head. “No,” he hummed. “I just think you're too pretty to be someone’s play-thing.”

You blinked. Was that a compliment?

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I don't do it as often as you think.” you said to him, that seductive smile on your face he knew all too well.

“Well you sleep with San.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but we only fuck because we don't know how to love. We've only done it once.”

He frowned. “What? Really? Only once?”

You nodded, your hand running through his soft hair without knowing. This was the most you've ever spoken civilly. “Yeah. We make out and like other stuff, but I don't like him like that. He doesn't like me like that either. We just do it for fun. Anything to feel something.”

He scoffed, looking as pretty as ever. “God, you're insane.”

“Maybe.”

He smiled. Really smiled. You thought he was so gorgeous, your drunk self didn't know what to do with him.

San came up to you two, a smirk on his lips as he watched you. “Dancing with the enemy, huh?” he chuckled, a girl on one arm and wooyoung on the other. “Have fun, looks like Seonghwa isn't a buzzkill after all.”

San left then, which kind of proved your relationship to Hwa. Sure, you liked to party. You liked having sex. You liked to feel things. It was just your way of having fun. Feeling alive. Even though Seonghwa hated that you were like that, you now just figured out that he thought you deserved better than being someone’s object.

“It's almost midnight.” you whispered, leaning your head against his chest. You felt his heartbeat race under that expensive turtleneck of his.

“Mhm.” he hummed into your hair. 

“Who are you going to kiss?” you ran your hands down his back sensually. “Did you even ever kiss someone?”

He laughed, and you felt his chest vibrate. “Do you think I’m a virgin, y/n?”

You giggled, his hands feeling you up. “Maybe. Either that or you're like extremely experienced and you know everything.”

He chuckled at that, but didn't deny it.

“So which is it?” you looked up at him as people began to chant the countdown in the background. “Virgin or sexpertise?” 

Ten. 

“Do you want to find out?” he asked, his hands living on your hips. “Or do you hate me too much?”

Nine.

“I do hate you quite a bit.” you looked up at his lips.

Eight.

He tilted his head, licking his lips.

Seven.

“Well I don't want you kissing someone else.”

Six.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “So does that mean you don't hate me?”

Five. 

He tugged you closer to him, your breasts pressing against his chest. “Oh, I do hate you. I hate everything about you.”

Four.

“Oh, I know you do.” you licked your lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You never let me hear otherwise.”

Three. 

“Do you…want to hear otherwise?”

Two. 

His hand met your jaw, tilting it up to face him. You swallowed hard.

You nodded. 

“I never wanted someone so bad the way I want you.” he breathed.

One.

“Kiss me.” you groaned, and this time, he touched you because he wanted to.

“I won't be able to stop.” he hummed against your lips, enveloping you with the sweet taste of oranges and vodka despite the warning.

Happy new year!

He pushed open your lips, tongue in your mouth and hands in your hair. You fisted his hair with one hand, his glasses crashing against your face. He pulled back for a moment only long enough to tear them off his face, only to further the kiss. His hands gripped your face, his tongue licking the roof of your mouth.

He breathed hard as you kissed and kissed and kissed. Your hands were still in his hair, tugging him down to you as he leaned down. You've never kissed someone the way you kissed him at this moment, sharing breaths and sweet-tasting saliva.

Seonghwa scrunched his eyebrows tight as he kissed you, so powerfully, that you didn't know where to put your hands on him anymore. 

You forgot that you were in the middle of a room full of people, but one kiss wasn't enough for both of you. You loved the softness of his lips. The taste of them. The smell of his hair. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he was touching you. You loved everything about him at this moment.

He pulled away, slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't almost break your face from that powerful kiss. It was as if the world was ending—he couldn't let go of you.

And to make matters worse, the pad of his thumb met the corner of your lips, wiping them gently.

“Happy new year, y/n.”

You stared at him, trying to decipher your true feelings. Did you only hate him because he never showed you the time of day? Was it because he was perfect, like a literal god?

—

12:45 am.

The New Year

Somehow, someway, you and seonghwa got separated in all the craziness of the midnight frenzy. You were now in the kitchen, guzzling down your second shot of champagne. You were way too drunk to search for seonghwa, but the minute you saw a flash of black and silver rimmed glasses, you pushed yourself off the counter and followed him.

The cold January breeze hit you, but your body was too warmed up from your intoxication. You stepped down the stairs of the deck, pushing through the swarm of people to see a group lighting off sparklers. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, as everyone here had to be at least tipsy, but you saw him then, smiling, and holding onto a sparkler.

The brightness of the sparks reflected in his eyes, leaving specks of gold and white dance around his lenses. He didn't see you yet, so you stepped closer and closer. He had to see you now, but he didn't look over.

“You know that our reactions to the world around us originate from our brains?” he smiled, waving the sparkler around to make the fire move. “Our movements. Like me moving this right now. Because my brain told my muscles to do it, I moved. Isn't it amazing?”

You stared at him as he turned to you.

“Same way with you,” he sniffed, possibly because of the cold. He looked down at the sparkler in his hands. “My brain reacts to you. More than absolutely anything.”

You reached out and held the sparkler with him, knowing there was no way you were going to remember this in the morning. “So, what makes my body react to you, then?”

He let out a sigh, putting his thinking face on even while he was obliterated. “That depends on what way you react. There are many different chemicals.”

You tilted your head. “Chemicals?”

He nodded, looking down at how your hands were touching each other. His free hand gripped your chin, tilting it up to meet his lustful gaze.

“If you're thinking about kissing me,” he paused, the reflection of the star of the sparkler in his lenses. “Or touching me. Or fucking me, your levels of dopamine and norepinephrine are high.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as his fingertips brushed against your lips. 

“High?” 

“Mhm. Your brain is currently sending signals through your neurotransmitters. If you're attracted to me right now,” the sparks of the sparkler died out right then. “Your body will react because of the chemical reactions.”

“So,” you breathed, looking up at him innocently. “How is your body reacting to me? What’s your brain telling you?”

Seonghwa paused, taking a quick look at your lips before biting them slightly. He tossed the dead sparkler away. “Well my brain isn't fully functional right now, so I’m not sure how reliable my words are.”

You scoffed, slapping him on the arm. “I thought we were having a moment.”

“We are.”

You laughed. “Seonghwa, I feel like you have no common sense.”

He blinked. “Well, not right now. Like I said when you drink your brain doesn't work as well—”

You groaned, interrupting him with a hand to his mouth. This made his eyes go wide, and you felt his hot breath hit your palm.

“I literally hate you so much,” you kept your hand to his mouth to keep him from speaking. “I’d rather have you call me a slut like earlier. Although you look cute talking all nerdy.”

He blinked at you, confused at what you really felt about him. He was so far gone that he was starting to spill brain facts—a usual scenario that happens when he gets drunk. It's not what he wants to get across now, even though he was confused about his own thoughts.

He reached up to grab your hand, and wiped his face after. Now his lips were free—you kept thinking back to your kiss you shared earlier.

“I won't be able to stop.” you said.

He tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

You sighed, grabbing his cheeks in your hands, making him let out a little noise of surprise. You could tell he barely had any idea where he was. His eyes were dilated, dark, and somehow so lovely you couldn't imagine looking into anyone else's.

“You said you wouldn't be able to stop. When you were kissing me.” you hummed, feeling the warmth of his body that was inches away from yours. “But you did.”

He stared at you deeply, and you were able to see your reflection in his round eyes. “Yes.”

You rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone. “And you said before that if you wanted to kiss someone, that was because of a chemical reaction?”

He nodded slowly, looking at your lips in a haze. “Also yes.”

“Are you….having any reaction…to me?” you slid your hand back, running it up his neck, watching him shut his eyes tight in response. “To my touch? Do you want to kiss my lips again? Or fuck me?”

“God, y/n.” he hissed quietly, his eyes opening slowly to meet your intense gaze. His hands were back on your hips, seeming like a happy place for him. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

You smirked, leaning in to kiss the sharpness of his jaw, hearing him breathe in sharply. “We can go back to being hateful in the morning. I want you inside me more than I want to be hated, tonight,” you kissed the lobe of his ear, nibbling on it slightly as his hands tightened at your waist. “So your answer? Is there a chemical reaction going off in your body right now?”

He laughed deeply, sending chills down your spine. His arms wrapped around your body, his palm at the small of your back, pulling you into him. “If there wasn't, then I would have something wrong with me.”

You sensually giggled, gripping the back of his neck so he would look you in the eyes. “Then I’m all yours for the night.”

“I can…I can do anything to you?” he murmured into your ear, both of you unaware of the people around you. 

His forehead pressed against yours.

“Anything.” 

—

1:20 am.

The New Year

He slammed you against the door of god knows who’s bedroom, his lips on yours the minute he caught his breath. His hand searched for the door knob, and after aggressively running his hand up and down the door, he found it, and you both tumbled into the bedroom.

He moaned as you bit his lip with full force, feeling euphoric from the sounds he made. He pushed you back into the door, slamming it shut with your body. Lifting you up quickly, he held you to the door, feeling his hard-on through his pants.

“You said you liked it rough,” he whispered onto your lips like it was a confession, kissing them in between words. “I’ll make it so rough you won't think about San ever again.”

You cried out as he stuck his tongue into your mouth, now knowing that this booksmart boy was most certainly not a virgin. “I knew it.” you breathed, smirking while his teeth bit into your neck. You grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling it so hard that he set you down. You watched his face contort in pain and pleasure as you backed him up to the edge of the bed.

“What?” he groaned, looking up at you from his seated position. His eyes pleaded for your touch, and you did, gripping onto his shoulder as you stepped between his legs.

“I knew you weren't a virgin, you asshole.” you gave him a sinister smile, and with the deadliest look, you ripped the hair tie off your wrist to tie your hair up.

You watched him swallow hard, his black hair covering his eyes and sticking to him from his sweat. His legs were spread wide, his dick begging to tear through his expensive pants. He breathed heavily as he watched you kneel, causing him to moan without you having to touch him.

“I…” he huffed as your hands met the waistband of his pants. “Ugh.” he couldn't finish what he had to say when you unbuttoned them, pulling down the zipper to reveal black underwear. You tugged at his pants, pulling them down along with the underwear. There he was, ready for you. You were going to make him feel so good that he would never forget this, despite your shared “hatred.”

He tossed his head back the minute he felt your breath against his tip, veins popping through the skin of his forehead as he bit his lip. You licked his cock, dragging your tongue down from the tip to the base. You looked up at him while you did it, meeting his breathless expression.

“I…I…Fuck.” he cried out, his hand fisting your ponytail with force. 

You moaned as you sucked his dick, your throat contracting from his size. You gagged slightly as he shoved you deeper, your hands behind your back like the master you were. You used your tongue as you moved up and down, going faster as you heard him moan louder and louder.

“I’m gonna fucking come if you don't stop,” he hissed after god knows how long you spent sucking him off, and he pulled you up off your knees. 

You nearly blushed at his lost expression, his lips bright red from your lipstick and his cheeks flushed. His eyes were slanted with lust, dazed and lost within your touch. He was leaning back on his arms, which were still covered by the turtleneck you couldn't wait to take off of him.

You licked your lips as you looked down on him, and your fingertips met the hem of his shirt. You tugged it slowly, watching his eyes widen slightly as you pulled it over his head. The smooth ripple of muscle danced down his stomach like he was some sort of art piece.

You then stood back to admire for a moment, which was too long for seonghwa to wait. He stood up from the bed, his arms coming around to hold the back of your head. He was completely naked now, all that was left was the slutty glasses that dawned his face. You didn't want to take them off just yet.

He looked at you for a second before pressing his red lips to yours, his hand gripping the back of your head to hold you to him. His other hand twirled around the end of your little dress, unable to take a second to pull the zipper down. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue collided into yours, your hands finding their home in his hair. The coldness of his glasses burned into your skin, sending more shivers down your spine as he kissed you like no one ever has.

“I’ll tear this thing apart,” he growled into your mouth, impatient as ever. Before you could tell him there was a zipper, he ripped the fabric right off your body, tossing it across the room like it was nothing. You didn't even care if it was your favorite dress. The only thing that mattered right now was having him inside you.

You shivered as his hands slid down the waistband of your lace underwear.

“I bet you didn't think I would be the one taking these off of you,” he licked your lips, his cold fingertips meeting your other lips. He pushed his middle finger between them, his eyes dancing with desire as he watched your eyes shut tight. “Lace? So slutty.”

“Your glasses are sluttier.” You held in a whimper.

He smirked, and took his hand away slowly. Before you could complain, he sucked on the fingers that were just near your entrance, and then slid his hand up your matching bra, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the sensitive skin of your nipple. Without warning, he pulled it over your head, and you rested your head in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your breasts. You kissed his collarbone as his arms snaked around your waist, pushing you backwards until you both fell onto the bed.

He caged you from above, his dick pressing up against your center. You felt the dribble of precum hit your skin, unable to shake the feeling that he was probably the best you ever had—even without entering you. His one arm reached down to pull your underwear off, so quickly you barely knew he did it.

You arched your back into him, begging him with your eyes for him to enter you, but he just looked down at you with a smirk. He ran a hand down your face, almost lovingly, but you knew better.

The minute his dick lined up to enter, and with a sharp inhale, he pushed himself deep inside you, causing you to let out a cry.

You rocked your hips against his as he held himself over you, his eyes locked on yours drunkenly. You couldn't remember when–or if—he ever looked straight into your eyes before tonight. It was fitting that he would only look at you when he fucked you.

His hips clashed into yours, his arms looping around your legs to shove himself further, if possible. You moaned so loud you swore everyone could hear you, but what made you even more turned on was that he was just as loud.

“Say my name.” he said, his glasses still on, making you even more feral. “I want to hear you scream it.”

You looked into his galaxy-like eyes, watching them sparkle with emotion.

You'll never recover from this.

“Seonghwa.” you whined, completely vulnerable under his body.

“Oh my god,” he purred, his eyes darkening. “Say it again.”

You moaned, causing him to move faster. “Hwa…”

You gripped his ass as he moved powerfully, his fingernails piercing your skin while his lips made love to your neck. You could hardly breathe between his god-like movements and the way his touch felt like fire, but when his lips met yours once again, you slid your hands up to hold the hair out of his face.

You smirked.

“Let me ride you.” you said, your voice hoarse from all your moans. He didn't stop moving as you asked, but you saw that gorgeous smirk immediately.

You traded positions, feeling empty as he pulled out of you. The minute you saw him under you, his hair sticking to his face and his eyes full of wonder, you let out a sigh, feeling his pulse from under you. You caressed his stomach with your fingertips, watching those bright eyes shut tight. Bringing your fingers down, you slid them down the V of his muscle, smiling to yourself as he bucked his hips forward. 

You leaned down, your lips meeting his stomach and you moved them further and further up, kissing his chest, his collarbone, his neck. You got to his chin, then his nose, until you softly gripped his glasses. Once they were off, you set them down onto the nightstand, letting out a chuckle as you looked at him.

He blinked up at you, never seeing him with such emotion.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, feeling his hot breath coat them while his hands caressed your back. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, sliding your finger down his neck to grip his throat. “You make me so mad.” you breathed, a devilish, almost insane look on your face. 

You tightened your grip.

He looked at you, sexy as ever. “Why?”

“Because,” you lined yourself up, hearing him grunt as you pushed yourself onto him. 

“When you call me beautiful, I actually believe you.”

You didn't give him a chance to answer you as you bounced up and down, smirking as you watched him squirm under your hold. You released your grip on his neck, pushing yourself up to ride him better. His hands were on your hips, his mouth agape and his eyes shut tight.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, leaning up from his sprawled position to wrap his arms around your body, holding him to you as you bounced up and down. Up and down, his lips on your lips. His hands in your hair. His tongue in your mouth. You never wanted this to end.

Who knows how long you've been going. He threw you around, pushing you up against the headboard and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He moaned in your ear, biting the lobe and then kissing it. “I still hate you,” he hissed, his sweat rubbing off onto you as he pressed his head into yours. “I hate how good your pussy feels.”

You tried catching your breath, holding onto him as he crashed. You already came twice, and you felt the third high coming after those words.

“You…” he huffed as you sucked on his thumb, unable to control himself. “You're such a whore.”

You smiled, your legs losing their feeling by how hard he was pumping into you. “Mhm.”

He groaned, tossing his head back. “It's so hot. You're so hot.” his breaths began to quicken, along with his movements. You most definitely will have bruises on your thighs from his grip and marks from the headboard on your back in the morning. “My little slut.”

“Ah,” you cried out, feeling yourself tighten around his pulsing cock. He pushed you up against the headboard even harder, and you felt the sharpness of his fingernails as he bucked his hips a few more times.

He came into you, without warning, and you felt the warmness fill you up completely. His breath was just as hot, hitting your sweaty face rhythmically. You let out a comfortable sigh as he moved your legs off his shoulders.

As you laid out, your back against the wooden headboard and him between your legs, he looked at you, gently, romantically, as if he didn't just fuck you for hours. He reached out, brushing your soaked hair behind your ear with a slight boyish smile.

He looked down at you in awe, unsure of what to do now. He was now a completely different person than he was a few minutes ago. His hands felt the inside of your thighs, his eyes wide. “Do you…do I..” he scratched his head. “Should I…help you? Like, wash up?” he met eyes with you, still drunk, but not nearly as much as he was a few hours ago.

You paused. You never had someone offer you that. Or any after care, in general. It's always been a hello, goodbye. 

He looked like he wanted to take care of you.

You blinked, trying to hide your appreciation. “You…don't have to,” you said, barely audible. He was the smartest man you knew, there was no way he didn't know what that meant.

He looked at you one more time before getting off the bed. You watched as he searched the room, admiring his physique. He found a box of tissues, and he gave you a look. “It's not the best thing, but—”

“It's okay, seonghwa.” you smiled, your hatred for him completely gone. Poof! Nothing was there other than infatuation and some other feeling you couldn't put your finger on. He came over to you then, and gently wiped the inside of your thighs, cleaning you up slowly. You blinked slowly as the tiredness took over you, but you didn't fall asleep just yet.

He looked you up and down from his standing position, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight that peeked through the windows.

He laid on the bed next to you, pulling up the covers and tossing them over both of you. Without thinking, you cuddled up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in his neck.

“You should believe it.” he said softly, rubbing circles into your arm.

“Hm?” you mumbled, drifting into sleep.

He smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“That you are beautiful.”

—

11:30 am

New Year’s Day.

Back to the current time, Seonghwa sat up against the headboard, looking as shocked as ever, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest. 

“y/n?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway. You remembered everything as soon as your fingers touched your dress.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. The same glasses he had on when he fucked you so hard you saw stars.

 “What the hell happened last night?” He asked, fixing his glasses to rest right on that pretty nose of his.

Your heart slowed. “You… don't remember?” you asked him, looking down at your aching body. He stared at you, lost, dazed, looking even more fuckable than he was when you were drunk.

This is bad.

He sighed, looking over the bruises on your thighs. “No, I do. I do,” he paused, scratching his head. “I’m sorry about the bruises. And…your dress.”

You wanted to escape. This was the first time you wanted to stay in someone's arms. The first time you wanted to sleep with someone more than once. It was unlike you.

You frantically searched for his shirt on the floor. You grabbed it and tossed it on, and thank god it fit like a dress. Your mind wandered to how he touched you, how he kissed you, how he cleaned you up.

You slid on your underwear, forgetting about the bra and quickly looked for your shoes. He watched you from the bed, a frown on his face. 

“You and your stupid chemical talk,” you mumbled, fixing your hair in the mirror. You looked over at him one last time, feeling your chest tingle from the look he was giving you. “I uh…it was nice. Thanks.” was all you came up with before leaving the room, and leaving him all alone with no shirt and your lace bra.

How were you supposed to fix this?

—

January 30th

End of Winter Break

You sat with your head in your textbook, alone in the library at your college campus. It's been thirty days since your unforgettable night with seonghwa, and here you were, still thinking about it every chance you got.

However, he was back to hating you again. He wouldn't even look at you, or speak to you. It felt like nothing happened, and in all reality, it was all your fault.

San came up to you then, a frown on his face as you made no reaction to his presence. Seonghwa was right—you couldn't even think of san the same way. Not after that night with hwa. 

“y/n,” San sat across from you at the library table, his expression solemn. “You haven't been yourself. Since when do you study?”

You blinked down at your textbook, reading about the anatomical drawings of Leonardo Divinci. It reminded you of seonghwa—not because of the way it looks, but knowing that the chemical reactions of the body lie under the exterior.

“Did you know that we have a whole bunch of neurotransmitters?” you furrowed your brow, your finger dancing along the drawing’s body. “They react to touch. Like this.” you said, circling the figure. San didn't speak, and he knew what happened between you and Seonghwa.

“Hey,” he reached out to shut your textbook, shutting your thoughts up. “What's going on?”

You shrugged, wrapping yourself up tightly in your fluffy coat. “I don't know. I don't know why I’m feeling this way or what it means.”

“It's Seonghwa,” he said kindly, picking at the edge of the textbook. “He’s been the same way, too.”

You sighed. “He won't even look at me, but who can blame him? After all he tore off my dress and called me a slut and bruised my thighs so bad I still have—”

“Alright, alright,” San hissed, making a disgusted face. “I don't need the details. But I can tell you what he said about you…”

Your eyes lit up, meeting his own irises with wonder. “What did he say?”

San bit his lip, and squirmed in the chair he was sitting in. “He said…he said he didn't want you to leave. When he was drunk the other day, he wouldn't stop talking about you.”

“San I,” you sighed, picking at your fingers in your lap. “I had to. That's all I know.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't have to be. Not with him, at least.”

You stared at him for a moment, unable to grasp the emotions you were feeling. “I don't want a relationship.”

He nodded. “He knows that.”

You bit your lip. “I don't know how to love someone.”

“He knows that, too.”

“Then what do I do?” you laughed, a usual occurrence when you were confused. “I want to be with him, but I don't know why.”

He smiled at you, his eyes kind rather than their usual flirtiness. “It doesn't hurt to try, y/n.”

Something blew up in your mind—some sort of chemical reaction you weren't used to. You knew of the feeling of attraction, lust, everything in between. But you didn't know what this one was.

You stood up abruptly. “I gotta go.” the chair nearly tumbled back as you zoomed out of the library, forgetting your backpack and your textbook like they were the least of your worries.

You ran through the cold, having no idea where your destination was. You knew who he was, but not where to find him. You checked his apartment, called hongjoong, and checked the science lecture halls. With him nowhere to be found, you thought your heart was going to give out—that is, until one more place came to mind.

You raced to the campus bus stop, pacing until the bus finally arrived. Your leg bounced up and down rapidly until you reached your stop. You moved so fast you were certain people thought you were insane, and when you finally pushed through the doors of the hospital, you trudged up the stairs to the neuro floor, right up to the main desk.

You took a deep breath to slow your breathing. “Is Seonghwa here?” you asked in a hurry, your heart beating so fast you thought you were dying. 

The lady frowned, giving you the weirdest look. “Who? Is he a patient?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No, no. he’s a med student. He should be doing an internship here or something? He’s in neuroscience. Neurosurgery? One of the two, I don't—”

“y/n?”

You heard his smooth voice from the right, and you slowly turned toward him in relief. “Ah, thank god. I need to see you, I think I’m dying.” you inhaled sharply, watching his neutral expression change to worry. 

He hesitated to get closer to you, his lips opening and closing as his mind wondered about what to say. He decided against words and walked over to you, gripping onto your arm before dragging you away and into the on-call room he came out of.

He let go of you, and you stood in the middle of the room with your hands at your sides. He locked the door behind him, and then turned to you with a scowl. “Why are you here?”

You gasped for air. “Listen, I have to be dying. My heart is beating so fast.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s probably because you ran here.”

You shook your head, and he kept his distance to you. “No, it's not just that,” you took a step closer to him. He didn't move back. “I can't stop thinking about you. And when I think about you, my heart races and I feel like I need to see you. Some kind of chemical reaction is going on and it's not the one you told me about when we were drunk.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. You stepped closer to him. “It’s probably just your body being confused. It has nothing to do with me—”

“But it has everything to do with you!” you groaned, sweating through the furry coat you had on. You ran a hand through your hair aggressively. “Because you're the one who I see even when I’m staring at anatomy paintings I can't stand it anymore.”

He let his guard down, setting down his arms at his sides. You took a step closer to him, calming down in his presence. 

He looked at you through those glasses of his. “What are your symptoms?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “I uh, I cant stop thinking about you. About that night. I also cant breathe sometimes, and my heart beats super fast whenever I think about you, or if you're with someone else,” you took a breath as he watched you intently. “I don't know if its because you hate me and I cant shake it, or that I still want to sleep with you, or the fact that I want more than that but I’m no good for you but I want to be—”

“Oxytocin.” he smiled, his eyes sparkling.

You stopped, realizing you were so close to him that your shoes were almost bumping together. “What?”

“Your chemical reaction,” he said, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. The minute his skin met yours, you felt your heart beat even faster. “It’s especially prominent with…skin to skin contact.” the pads of his fingers caressed your cheek.

You felt calm as he touched you. Like you needed it. Only him.

“What does that mean?” you asked him, a whisper.

He smiled, grabbing your face in his hands. “It means attachment. You're attached to me.”

You met eyes with him, looking at how they searched your face for any answer. 

“...Yes. you're right,” you bit your lip as he looked down at you with amusement. “All I know is that I feel so much better now that you're in front of me.”

He smiled. “Good. because I do too,” he looked at your lips, ready to lean down and kiss them. “But just so you know, I plan on ripping your clothes off again. Right here, right now, so you better tell me it won't be the last time. I don't want to hear you say bye to me ever again.”

You nodded in his grip, your face inching towards his. “Mhm. Yeah. I’ll always say hello to you. No bye’s.”

He pressed his forehead into yours. “None.” 

His lips met yours like it was the first time, and you smiled into the kiss like a schoolgirl. You wrapped your arm around his shoulders, kissing him and kissing him like you were made for him.

He made love to you on the couch of the on-call room, making new marks on your thighs and your neck. You never wanted it to end, and this time, it didn't have to.

“I’ll be the only one who gets to rip  your dresses, alright?” he growled in your ear, professing his attraction and attachment to you through actions. 

Your sobs became heavy; deep breaths and soft hiccups as you let the sadness consume you, finally breaking down. The release felt good — like you were dumping out all of the negative emotions and making space for new, brighter ones. 

But, will positive feelings fill that void? Or will the dark, spikey emotions waltz back into you and cut even deeper than before? Something needs to fill it; like a painkiller for your emotions, fighting away the hurt before it can fester and grow.

You pull yourself up, slowly stripping out of your clothes and letting them pile at the door. Sluggishly, you drag yourself to the attached bathroom and turn on your shower. 

What could you use to kill the pain? 

Unable to stand, you sit in the tub right under the shower head, hard droplets silenced as they bounce off your skin. Silently, you stare at the wall, tears mixing with the water as you silently weigh your options. Things to do to numb yourself. To rid yourself of this never ending pain.

What could you do to kill the pain?

The water turns cold when you finally work up the strength to turn it off. You find the fluffiest towel you own, wrapping yourself up. You hold it up higher, burying your face in dark fabric. Listening to your breathing. Bringing yourself back down to earth.

Do you stand in your cocoon for minutes? Hours? The droplets on your legs have dried; goosebumps decorating your exposed skin as the cold air twirls around your body. Slowly, you peel the towel off, folding it neatly and placing it on your counter. 

Maybe what you need is to forget about everything. Empty your brain, clear your senses and give your body a restart. Before you can really process those thoughts, you begin to search through your bedside table, only stopping with your fingertips brush against the silk bag.

It’s like just the touch of the bag gives you a fresh wave of energy; quickly shutting your blinds and turning off your lights in favor of the warm glow of your tea candles. You make your bed, fluffing the many pillows that live there as if you’re not about to make a mess of them. Sitting against the headboard with your knees to your chest, you finally open the little bag.

The wand feels heavy in your hands, legs clenching in anticipation of its touch. While easily your most expensive, not to mention prettiest, toy, it rarely left the bag. It wasn’t something you wanted to use often, wanting to save it for days that you really, really needed it.

Today was one of those days.

Knees still hiked up, you spread your legs. Placing the wand on the bed, a hand slowly creeps down your body. First it lands on your breast, back arching slightly as you tease the nipple. Your breathing deepens as the warm pleasure begins to wash over you. Deciding to pay extra attention to your chest, the other hand slides in between your legs.

Just a few moments of teasing was enough to make your core slick, fingertips gliding easily through your folds. Your eyes flutter shut as you play with yourself, familiar images dancing behind your eyelids as you immerse yourself in thoughts you usually don’t dare to humor. Thoughts of him. Of his hands. Of the muscles that flex under the tight material of his shirts. Of the way his thighs look when he wears those stupid grey sweatpants-

Your fingers aren’t enough. Without opening your eyes, you pat the bed in search of the wand. The cool metal handle meets your palm, and you shakily turn it on. Skipping the lower settings and heading straight for the higher pressures, you resume the motions you were making with your fingers. The vibrations make your legs shake, the feeling crawling up your spine and leaving first in its wake.

He’s just so nice. Always so gentle with you; it’s clear he genuinely cares about you. Maybe not in more than a friendly way, but it’s when you let yourself divulge in your guilty little fantasy that you wonder how he would care for you in a not-so-friendly way. Would he be gentle with you, like he always is? Soft kisses and touches, slow, languid thrusts while his lips stay connected to yours-

-or would he treat you a little rougher? Would he grab you hard enough to leave bruises? Would he whisper his most filthy, perverted desires in your ear as he takes you from behind? 

Your mind wanders with all of the things he could do to you. All the things he could make you do. When you think hard enough, it’s almost like your hands aren’t yours, but his. Touching you. Feeling you. Claiming you as his.

The center of your body feels like it’s on fire, an explosion happening between your legs as you release all over your bed. Eyes shooting open, you stare at the ceiling as your high finally ends, breathes heavy and full. Fuck, did you really cum to the thought of him? Again? Shame washes over you, and the voids that were once filled with pleasure are now emptying quickly. Fuck, what were you thinking? Why did you-

There are three rapid knocks to your door, followed by knob rattling like someone was trying to open it. “Hey, why is your door locked?”

You don’t remember doing so, but given your current position, you’re glad you did. The last thing you wanted was for your roommate to find you like this.

Throwing an oversized shirt on, you crack the door open just enough that Chan can see you. “Usually people wait for an invitation before they try to enter a room.”

He flashes you a perfect smile, which just makes you feel more shameful. It’s the same smile you picture when you think of him between your- “Sorry. Think you can forgive me?”

You playfully roll your eyes, giving him a shrug. “I guess.”

“I just have a quick question and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Sure.”

“I know it’s my night to order take out, but can we push it to tomorrow? I know it’s super last minute, but I have a date tonight and-“

His mouth is moving but you can’t hear anything over the shattering of your heart. There’s so much joy in his eyes, an excited smile as he tells you all about this person, but all you can think about is how fucking badly your chest hurts. The pain is throbbing, shards of glass stuck in the place where your heart should be. The void you desperately tried to fill was suddenly full, but of something that brought an immense amount of agony. You could cripple over right here, fall on the ground and sob. It’s far too much.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You say, cutting Chan off mid sentence, no longer able to listen to him gush over this person.

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Are you okay?”

“So okay.”

“Come on, don’t lie to me-“

“Who said it’s a lie, Chan?” Your eyes sting with tears, everything inside you screaming to keep it all in. 

You watch Chan’s face from one of shock and confusion to concern. He steps forward, reaching a hand out to you. An offer. Take it, and he’ll do all he can to make you feel better. That’s what he’s always done, right? Take care of you?

But you step back, away from his hand and his comfort. You didn’t deserve his comfort, not after what you thought about while touching yourself. Not when he wasn’t yours.

Defeatedly, Chan moves his hand and runs it through his hair. “Okay. Yeah. Listen, I won't push you to talk about anything with me.” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “But I know things have been really rough lately, and I just need to know that you’re going to be alright.”

Keeping it in is no longer an option, the fresh tears breaking free. You bring your hands to your face, aggressively trying to wipe them away. Unable to speak, you just shake your head. You feel his arms wrap around you, a hand on the back of your head as he pulls you into him. 

You bury your head in his chest, inhaling his scent as you attempt to compose yourself. Everything comes spilling out of you at once; pain, guilt, sadness, finally safe in Chan’s hold. Fingers rake through your hair, untangling every knot with the soothing motion. He tilts you back and forth, basically rocking you, content with waiting until you’re ready to break free.

“‘m sorry.” Your apology is muffled against his chest, shirt damp with tears. “I’m not okay.”

“Shh. It’s alright. You don’t have to be.” Chan untangles his fingers from your hair, pushing the door open fully. “Come on, angel, let’s get you in bed, hm? Then we can figure something out.”

The nickname, which started out as a joke between the two of you, warms your chest. It’s like a little reminder that he always genuinely cares for you, so purely and kindly. Chan grabs your wrist, walking you to your bed-

Oh.

Oh no.

“Wait. No, I-I actually want to be alone, Chan-“

But it’s too late. Your roommate is frozen on the side of your bed, eyes focused on the large wet spot and discarded want. God, you want to shrink into your skin and hide. It’s even worse knowing that all you could think of when you came was him, and now he was here, staring at the aftermath of your shame.

“This is, uh,” he clears his throat “why your door was locked.”

You lean against the wall, holding your head in your hands. A scream is building in your throat, the embarrassment almost too much to bear. Neither of you are looking at each other, but you nod your head anyway. If you open your mouth, you’re going to scream.

“Did it help?” His voice is soft but rough, like his mouth is drying out.

That question makes you drop your arms in frustration. How do you even begin to answer it? Why does it matter? “Kind of.” You say, settling on an answer.

A silence fills the room, and you feel yourself sinking more. The small bit of guilt you felt before has intensified, completely consumed by the feeling. You’re going to have to move out of the apartment. Maybe out of the city. Maybe you can change your name and pretend you never knew Chan, pushing him out of your mind.

“Let me try.”

The words hit you like a train, knocking you further against the wall. Pinching your thigh, you prove to yourself that this isn’t a fantasy — this is your reality. Your roommate, who you have been hopelessly head over heels for for as long as you can remember, is offering assistance. Offering relief.

“How?”

You watch as Chan kneels on the bed, picking up the toy. He rolls it in his hand, inspecting the head of it, before turning to look at you for the first time since entering your room. There’s a look in his eyes that no one has ever given you before; it’s deeper than desperation, it’s raw and animalistic. A need that’s like a force, overwhelming and appealing, making you move closer to the bed until you’re within his reach.

“Sit down, and show me.” He doesn’t break eye contact with you the entire time he speaks so you understand.

It’s not a request. It’s a command.

Slowly, you crawl back into bed, returning to the position you were in before. The eye contact doesn’t waver, not even as you spread your legs, pulling your shirt up to expose your bare center. Wordlessly, Chan holds out the wand, offering it to you.

You can say no. You can pretend like this never happened, and everything can go back to normal. Chan will go on his date, and you’ll search endlessly for a way to ease the pain.

You take the toy.

His eyes travel down your body, lingering on your hardened nipples peeking through your shirt before moving lower. When he looks at your cunt, he releases the breath you didn’t know he was holding. His gaze should make you feel pressured, nervous. While you do feel a little shy, the urge to pull down your shirt increases with the length of time he stares, you feel comfortable. Chan has always cared for you before. Why would now be any different?

You repeat every motion from before, down to the speed of the vibrator to the path it takes. Instead of closing your eyes, you watch him. Watch how he sets his lips, how he studies the movements you make. What makes you shake. What makes you whine. 

Right as you bring the head of the toy to your clit, Chan grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“That’s not enough.” His voice is smooth like velvet, a groan building in your throat at the sound alone. Maneuvering your wrist, Chan moves the toy in a different pattern.

He lifts the toy, the vibrations barely hitting your clit as you feel cold fingers run through your folds. “You’re not doing enough, angel.” He speaks over your moans, the pressure of his fingers intense compared to the toy. With ease, he slides his middle finger inside you. “Your pretty little cunt needs more. Doesn’t this feel so much better?”

The pace he takes could be compared to a snail; slow and lazy, but rough. He slams his finger in and out, enjoying the feeling of your walls and the sounds you make as he explores you.

“How long have you been pent up like this?” He brings your wrist down, the vibrations becoming more intense. 

“A while.” You breathe out, eyes fluttering shut.

“Eyes on me when you speak, angel.” His words are clipped, a jolt of fear rushing down your spine as you snap your eyes back open. The smirk he gives you doesn’t help anything, muddying the fear with pleasure. “There’s my good girl.”

The praise makes you clench around his finger, and you watch as his eyes darken even more. The pace of his finger speeds up, a bit more aggressive as he brings the wand closer. He’s only using one finger, why is it making you so dizzy? 

You clutch onto your sheet, legs shaking as the intensity builds. You’re right there, the second orgasm building rapidly. Just a few more thrusts and you’ll be pushed over the edge.

The moment your legs threaten to snap shut, Chan pulls out, pulling your parted lips with the finger that was just inside you.

“Stay still.” He says firmly as he lets go of your wrist, commanding you to keep the vibratior in place. Roughly, he starts pushing his sweats down with one hand, eagerness evident with his speed. “How long have you wanted this?”

Chan pulls the finger out of your mouth, allowing you the freedom to speak once again. “I-I don’t know. A long time. A long time, Chan-“

“Yeah?” He holds his cock to your entrance, teasing your clenching hole. “Does that mean you think about me when you play with yourself?”

You don’t need to answer — the look on your face is enough for him to figure it out. You do, and often.

Chan pushes in without warning, tearing a scream from your trembling lips. “Good. So do I.”

He grabs your hips as he begins to slam into you, head rolling back as he bites his lip. It all feels better than either of you could have imagined; your walls squeeze him beautifully, his cock is felt in your stomach. Like pieces of a puzzle, you fit perfectly together, forming into one.

“I’ve needed you for so-“ slam. “-fucking-“ his hips hit yours. “-long.” He pushes your hips up, positioning you so he can go deeper. “I’m gonna fuck your pain away angel. Crowd that pretty head of yours until all you can do is think about me and how good I make you feel.”

It wouldn’t take much. You were already dizzy, body twitching with oversensitivity as he uses you in the perfect way to make you both feel incredible. All you’ve ever wanted was right in front of you, a fantasy come to life. Your own personal painkiller that only worked for you. Every inch of your body relaxes, the spikes digging into your chest slowly disappear. Once was once too deep to cut out is now nonexistent, stitched up and healed by the feeling of the person you’ve always needed.

Chan leans over you, lips crashing against yours as his thrusts begin to get sloppy. “Wanna take care of you.” He grunts into the messy kiss, moaning as your tongue rubs against his own. “Let me make you mine, my beautiful girl.”

All you’ve ever wanted, spilling his desperate want for you and chanting your name as he cums inside you, filling the aching void in your chest. You break shortly after him, crying out for him as he works you through it, all while whispering “mine, mine, mine.”

Yours. Yours. Yours.

A painkiller. A lover. A friend. The tape holding your heart together.

Yours. Yours. Yours.

03

You sat on your knees in the centre of your bed, the only clothes covering you were your underwear as you watched your boyfriend rid himself of his shirt finally. You felt small and vulnerable in front of him as he stood at the edge of the bed, it was exhilarating for you.

“You look so pretty in that set tiny,” Yunho said, leaning over and tugging on the strap of your pink bra. You thanked your past self for wearing a cute matching set.

You made grabbing motions towards him, pulling on his arms to bring him onto the bed in front of you. He sat down, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you onto his lap. His fingers traced along the lace of your bra, softly feeling the fabric and your skin as he teased you.

“We should get you out of these, hmm? Don’t want to ruin them.” Yunho slowly pulled the straps down your arms, letting them hang loosely. His arms snaked around your back, stopping as they tugged on the clasp, he raised an eyebrow at you waiting for permission.

“Please,” you whined. You loved how considerate he was, but you really just wanted him to hurry up now. 

Yunho groaned at your eagerness, flicking the clasp undone and watching as it fell from your chest. He let out a shaky breath, his hands coming to cup your chest in his large hands. The feeling of him finally touching you there was enough to send your mind reeling, his fingers coming to tug and twist gently on your nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, mouthing along the top of your chest as he kissed just above where you needed him. “You look so good like this, all pretty for me.”

One hand fell to your waist again, pulling you even closer to him so that you were placed just over his crotch. You could feel him beneath you, his cock trapped underneath your clothed pussy. You had to bite your lip to avoid moaning loudly, opting instead to squeeze his shoulders tightly.

Yunho dropped his mouth to your chest again, his lips closing around one of your nipples as his free hand played with the other. The feeling was intense, you’d never had someone do this to you before and it was almost too much. Yunho grazed his teeth gently over you, pulling off of you and switching to the other nipple, giving it just as much attention.

You threw your head back as a quiet moan left your lips, it was taking all your effort not to let all the noises out. You could still hear some of the boys chatting downstairs and you were well aware of your brother across the hall, you did not need anyone knowing how badly Yunho was corrupting you right now.

“Fuck baby, I can’t get enough of you,” Yunho groaned into your skin, kissing up your chest until he was back level with you. He pulled you in for a kiss, it was messy and hot and it was enough to illicit a whine from you.

“Yunho,” you pulled away from him, holding him at arm’s reach to stare at him. Both of you were breathing heavily, lips swollen and fucked out. “I need you so badly, please Daddy.”

His eyes flickered with some unknown emotion before he shifted you in his lap, holding you tightly by your hips as he lifted you up and laid you down on the bed. Your head flopped back into a mountain of pillows, the soft and fluffy pink fabric made you giggle a bit compared to the precarious position you were in.

Seeing Yunho hovering above you, his whole body held up by his tensed arms, was making you impatient. You grabbed at him, pulling him down to kiss you once again. He was careful not to put his weight on you, not wanting to crush you too much whilst simultaneously wanting to be as close to you as possible. One arm leant by your head, keeping him steady, whilst the other ran down your side, stopping at the very top of your underwear. He ran a fingertip over the lace, getting even closer to where you needed him most. He pulled away from your lips, ducking down to kiss a few times over your chest before slowly shifting himself down on the bed, kissing along your stomach as he went.

“Yun,” you leant up to look down at him. “What are you doing?”

His lips kissed just over the top of your underwear, dangerously close to your cunt. He hooked his fingers into the side of the pink lace, teasingly pulling at the fabric.

“I want to taste you little one, can I?” He looked up at you, waiting for your answer. You nodded your head, words failing you when you caught sight of how intently he was looking at your core. Yunho pulled the fabric down, tossing it to the side somewhere to join all your other clothes. You were now fully exposed in front of him, the urge to curl up and hide appeared but was quickly dismissed when Yunho grabbed onto your thighs tightly and spread them apart.

“God, you’re so fucking wet already. Who made you like this baby?” He asked, dragging one finger up your slit.

“You did Yun,” you whined, a quiet moan leaving your lips as his fingertip grazed your clit. 

Yunho leant down, kissing over your inner thighs gently as he made his way even closer to where you needed him most. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit, the friction made you curl up into yourself but Yunho’s arms held you down so you couldn’t move away. He giggled quietly, loving how needy you had become. His tongue darted out, licking one long stripe up your cunt to taste you properly, a moan ripping from his throat loudly. You didn’t have it in you to care about noise anymore.

“Fuck you taste so good, wanna make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you. Do you want that baby? Want to cum on Daddy’s tongue?” He punctuated his words with another sloppy kiss to your cunt, sucking lightly on your clit. Hearing him refer to himself with that title was insanely hot.

“Please, I want it so bad. Need it so badly, please Daddy.” You babbled out words, not even caring if you sounded desperate, your hands threaded into his hair as his head settled between your legs.

He smiled against you before diving in, his tongue running up and down your core at a fast pace that sent your brain into overdrive. The relentless pace doubled up with the new feeling was insane, you could feel a tight heat coiling at the bottom of your stomach already.

Yunho removed one hand from holding your thigh, instead bringing it up to push a finger into your cunt slowly. His mouth moved to focus on your clit whilst he pumped a finger into you, the two sensations working together to bring you closer yet.

“Feels so good Yun,” you whined, tugging on his hair harshly. At this, Yunho groaned into you, the vibrations just adding to the pleasure.

He pushed a second finger into you, working you open to prepare you for his cock later. He would need at least three fingers in you first before he even attempted to fuck you. He scissored his two fingers, quelling the slight burn with his quick licks to your clit. You loved the feeling of his fingertips curling up against your walls, pressing on the areas you needed him most.

When the third finger entered you, you cried out loudly, the pleasure becoming so intense that you thought you might scream. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your orgasm so close to crashing. Yunho took his mouth off of you for a second, not once stopping the pace of his fingers.

“Cum on my tongue tiny, want to taste you,” he mumbled, lips glistening obscenely from your cunt. His eyes were wild, the sight of you struggling to hold back an orgasm that he was giving you was making him impossibly harder.

He bought his mouth back to your clit, keeping the relentless pace. You kept a tight grip on his hair, feeling your orgasm at the very edge. Yunho pushed a fourth finger into you, quickly slamming in his hand with little warning. It was the most you’d ever taken, and the stretch was enough to push you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. 

You whined loudly, a hand coming to cover your mouth but it was too late, you’d probably already woken up half the house. Yunho’s fingers pumped you through your high, his mouth coming off your clit as to not overstimulate you too much. He watched your chest heave up and down heavily, slowly pulling his fingers from you and watching you desperately clench around nothing.

You pulled his arm, bringing him up level with you before smashing your lips to his. You felt the need to be close to him again, you didn’t know if it was the intensity of the orgasm or something else but you needed him with you. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, your teeth clashed with his messily but you didn’t have it in you to care. You were needy and desperate and the only person who could quell that was Yunho.

He pulled back slowly, breath heavy as he stared down at you, “you’re killing me.” He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, “you were so good for me, took my fingers so well. You make me so proud.”

Your chest swelled at the praise, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the lewd thoughts that spread through your mind, “need your cock now Yun, need to feel you inside me. Feel so empty.”

“Oh god,” he all but whined. “What have I done to you? I’ve corrupted your little head, hmm?”

You giggled, nodding up at him as his knuckles grazed down your cheek. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his chest down onto yours so that you were touching as much of him as possible.

Yunho took his hand, the one that was still covered in your cum, and stroked his cock a few times. You bit your lip, watching as he worked himself up with your juices all over him. It was so filthy, but you couldn’t turn your eyes away. It was truly like you whole brain was indoctrinated by Yunho, you were well and truly in way too deep.

“You think you’re ready baby? Or do I need to stretch you out a bit more?” Yunho asked, leaning down so that he rested between your open legs. He was so close to where you needed him, it was taking everything in you not to pull him down into you.

“I can take it, please let me be good for you.” You held onto his arms, nails digging into his skin a little but he didn’t mind. He wanted you to mark him in any way possible.

“You are so good for me, so good,” he lowered himself down, grazing his cock gently over your cunt. “Tell me if it hurts tiny, we can stop or slow down. You gotta tell me though.”

You nodded quickly, “I will, please Daddy.” 

Yunho clenched his jaw, pushing himself into you slowly as to not hurt you. It was almost painful for him, feeling you cunt tightly grip onto his cock and not being able to completely immerse himself in you, but he had to take it slow so he didn’t hurt you. It was taking all his willpower not to ram himself into you, his brain was running one hundred miles an hour with all the different fantasies he had about you. After so long, he was finally able to do all the things he’d dreamt about. And you were underneath him, your corrupted brain mumbling his name over and over.

“You ok baby?” He asked, leaning down to softly kiss your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Mhm, so big,” you breathed out, opening your eyes finally to meet his concerned one. “You can move, I want to feel all of you.”

Yunho nodded gently, leaning himself down further and pushing his hips flush against you. You could feel all of him, the stretch was mind spinning and you could barely create a cohesive thought. Yunho pulled back slowly before snapping his hips forward, jolting out a whine from your throat. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” his eyes were screwed tight, hands balled up into fists by your head. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, better than I ever imagined.”

You lifted your hips slightly to meet his, finding a rhythm that worked for you both as he kept a steady pace into your cunt. The idea that Yunho had fantasised about this, thought about you in this position with his cock inside of you, sent your head into a spin. You couldn’t believe it took so long for you to get here, but now you were you never wanted to leave.

He pushed his forehead against yours, hot breaths mixing together as he tried to calm himself down. If he carried on like this he would cum way too quickly. You bought one hand up to rest on his cheek, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his temple, and he leant into your palm slightly. 

“You feel so good,” his hips slowly found a gentle pace as he fucked into you, you were used to the stretch now, each roll of his cock into you was better than the last. “Do you feel good baby? Does it feel good?”

He mouthed along the skin of your jaw, pressing a few kisses around the love bites he’d made earlier. You wanted to tell him it felt good, you wanted to tell him he was filling you up so perfectly but you could barely get a word out without whining.

Yunho slowed his hips, pausing when he was fully sheathed inside of you, “use your words tiny, I need to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

“Fuck,” you wiggled underneath him to get some form of friction but his hand immediately slammed your hips back down onto the bed.

“Move again and you’re not coming again tonight,” he hissed. You groaned at his harsh tone, not because you didn’t like it, but because it only served to turn you on further. “You’re so fucking wrecked, you like it when I’m mean baby?”

He let out a breathy laugh, watching as you struggled underneath him to get any words out other than a tiny hum of approval. He knew this was turning you on more, and he could feel himself basking in your reaction to him. 

“So good Yun, you’re so good,” you finally moaned out as he pulled back a tiny bit. “Fuck me so well.”

“Who else gets to fuck you like this, hmm?” He asked, pulling back fully before snapping his hips against yours, finally giving you the friction you needed.

“Only you, only Daddy. No one else.” He smirked, one hand coming up to rest on your jaw as he stroked your flushed cheek. Seeing you this fucked out for him was intoxicating, knowing he was the only person to ever see you like this and who would ever get to see you like this for the rest of your life.

He saw a tear fall down your cheek, your eyes squeezed shut at the tight pleasure building back up in your stomach. He caught it with his thumb, wiping it away softly before kissing over the area the tear tracks rolled down. You were close, already sensitive from your previous orgasm, and Yunho was not far behind. He felt like teasing you, making you beg, but he decided to save that for next time. You’d been so good for him, you deserved this.

“Wanna cum? Are you going to cum all over my cock for me?” His words were close to your ears as he whispered praises, teeth grazing your ear.

You wanted to hold off longer, savour the moment, make Yunho cum first. But you couldn’t, you were so close it was embarrassing and you felt more tears spilling down your cheeks at how good you felt.

“I’m so close Yun, please don’t stop,” you whined into his skin, biting down on his shoulder a little to try and soften your sounds. It didn’t help, instead it just ripped a loud moan from your boyfriend as he ground his hips harder into you. The hand on your cheek fell to your cunt, rubbing quick circles over your clit to bring you even closer to the brink of your orgasm.

“Go on baby, cum for me. Let me hear how good it feels,” he all but growled into your neck. You pulled away from his shoulder to look at him in the eyes, he kissed you quickly. “You look so pretty like this, fucked dumb on my cock.”

An intense wave of pleasure rushed over you, you were nearly there as his pace never let up. Your brain had almost turned to mush as he relentlessly fucked into you, a bruising grip on your hip. You whined his name over and over, hands digging into his shoulders as he pushed you over the edge.

“Fuck Yunho,” you moaned out, not caring how loud you were. His pace never slowed as he fucked you through your orgasm, your vision blurring as he kept a fast pace on your clit with his thumb. You whined as the overstimulation hit you, and Yunho took his hand away from you to let you calm down. His pace slowed as he brought you down from your high, muttering praises into your hair as he kissed your forehead.

“Did so good for me tiny, took me so well,” he was still slowly thrusting into you, your cunt throbbing around him. He was painfully hard now, so close to his own orgasm but wanting to prioritise you. But you could feel him, his arms were tense as they wrapped around you, he was holding himself back so much.

He held you close to him, chests pressed together as your limbs intertwined. You could feel all of him now, pulling him down to catch his lips in a soft kiss. This kiss was different, it wasn’t heated, it was gentle and you tried to will all your emotion into the kiss. You pulled back, lips still brushing his as you spoke.

“Yun,” you caught his attention as he hummed, eyes shut tight as he willed himself not to fuck into you as to not hurt you. “Want you to cum, please. Need you to cum in me.”

He whined, Yunho fucking whined, hearing those words leave your lips was enough to push him right to the edge. He was seconds away from filling you up completely, he just needed to make sure you were certain.

“You sure baby?” He said softly, kissing you once again as he searched your eyes for any slight hesitation.

You smiled, giggling at how concerned he was, “I’ve never been more sure, want to feel you fill me up. I need it, please?”

Your words were almost frantic now, almost begging. Yunho smiled back, kissing you all over your cheeks and holding you tightly in his arms. He gave an experimental thrust into you, feeling you relax slightly around him. That was enough indication, he held you close to him as he slowly pushed his cock into you over and over, bringing his orgasm closer.

“Going to cum baby,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs hooking around the back of his hips. “Going to cum in your little cunt so everyone knows you’re mine. All fucking mine, yeah?”

“All yours Yun, all Daddy’s,” you said, combing your fingers through his damp hair as his hips stuttered. You tried your hardest to clench around him, the overstimulation making you a little weaker, and you heard him swear under his breath. With one last snap of his hips, he pushed into you, stilling his hips against yours as you felt him fill you up. He moaned quietly, your name falling from his lips between praises as he let himself slowly come down from his orgasm.

Yunho pulled back slightly, not enough to let you go but enough to look down at your face properly, seeing how fucked out you looked sent his mind racing. He slowly shifted his hips, pulling his cock from you and watching as you winced from the empty feeling. He had well and truly corrupted you and he loved it, watching as his cum slowly dripped out of you.

“God tiny, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he said as his hands slowly traced the sides of your body. You wanted to shy away, suddenly well aware of the position you were in. But Yunho made you feel like you were the most precious person in the world, he made you confident.

You grabbed at him, feeling a little clingy now. Yunho quickly obliged, leaning back down to lie next to you and pull you onto his chest, careful not to hurt you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, using his other to brush your hair out of your face and soothe you.

“How do you feel?” He asked quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment of the two of you basking in the after-sex aura.

“I feel good,” you said quietly, fiddling with the beaded bracelet on his wrist. “Was it ok? Was I good?” You asked timidly, you knew you probably weren’t the best he’d ever had but you hoped it was somewhat enjoyable for him. You felt so inexperienced compared to your boyfriend, losing your virginity to him was scary but you wouldn’t have let anyone else do it.

“Baby you were amazing,” he said, turning to face you properly and hold your chin in his hands. “Best I’ve ever had, and I mean that. You were so good for me, can’t believe you did so well for your first time.”

A blush spread across your cheeks, suddenly feeling shy in front of him. But Yunho always knew how to make you shy, how to make you nervous. You didn’t think you would ever not feel like that around him, those first date type of nerves.

You kissed his chest gently, feeling yourself start to get tired but not wanting to stop talking to Yunho. You could feel yourself slip a little, that clingy feeling and the neediness from earlier returning as he separated himself from you and stood up from the bed. You whined, stretching out to him as tears pricked in your eyes. He wasn’t leaving you, you knew that, but you needed him close otherwise you though you would burst into tears. 

“Oh no baby it’s ok, come here sweetheart,” he cooed, holding his arms out and scooping you up into them. He held you close to his chest, waiting for you to soothe yourself a little. “I’m just going to run a bath for us, we need to get you cleaned up before you sleep.”

“Don’t leave me,” you pouted, clinging around his neck tightly. Yunho smiled, kissing your cheek with a quick nod. If you weren’t so fucked out you’d have felt shy about how you were acting, but right now you didn’t care.

“I’m not going to, never in my life. Come on, let’s get you all clean.” He carried you to the bathroom, the rest of the house was silent and you prayed that everyone else was asleep. You would deal with that mess in the morning. 

“Wanna sit on the side whilst I get things sorted?” He asked, placing you to sit down on the countertop. You nodded, you could manage if he was still close by, you were starting to feel a little less foggy, a little less needy. Yunho grabbed a towel, draping it over your body to keep you warm whilst he ran the bath, adding your favourite bath bubbles and grabbing any washes that you needed. 

When it was ready he lifted you up again, easily enveloping you in his arms and placing you down into the warm water. He immediately slid in behind you, pulling you flush against his chest and wrapping his arms around you as you settled back into the water. He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck over the marks that were starting to bruise up. 

“Tiny?” He whispered, not wanting to break the tranquillity of the moment. You hummed in response, your eyes softly closed. “I love you, I know it’s not been long but I’ve loved you for a really really long time. It’s killed me not to tell you, but I love you so much.”

You turned your head to look at him, seeing his eyes filled with worry at your reaction. But you smiled, a wide and cheesy grin spreading across your face. You kissed him, lips lightly pushing against his. Pulling back, you rest against his chest, kissing the skin there, “I love you too Yun, have done for a while. I can’t believe it took us so long to get here.”

Being cursed for death doesn’t seem too far afield from what’s written for everybody in this world. People breathe, sleep, eat, breed and eventually they wither and die. Of course there are vices that consume humanity between its beginning and end. Drugs, alcohol, lying, cheating, stealing, fucking everything with a pulse in a three hundred mile radius. And that’s only to name a few.

Death is inevitable for every living, breathing thing. One way or another life ends. No matter how beautifully written the book, or in spite of the end being premature, or even how peaceful the final chapter may be. That’s exactly what it is – a finale. Everything else is irrelevant in that moment. The sins, the celebrations, all the regrets and false promises truly mean nothing when it’s time to close the book.

We’re all born to die.

But to die before you’ve really lived? It’s pitiful. You don’t have a vice, there’s no morally grey area that intrigues you. Well maybe there is one. It’s tall, dark and sinisterly handsome with a knack for taking your breath away whenever it speaks in romance riddles. Whenever it embraces you you’re left wordless, and on the rare occasion it’s lips have moulded against yours it’s enough to consume every fibre of your being.

Unfortunately for you, it’s the same vice you’ve been staying with for almost three weeks now.

The curse of the Pi Gasu has plagued your thoughts ever since Jungkook told you about it. How you and your twin brother Eddie are cursed. How your biological father was a vampire. How Eddie’s terminal illness is nothing more than a transition into immortality. And how his transition will only be completed the moment you die. So it’s all real, the scary monsters and spooky tales. The vampires, werewolves and demons. The witchcraft, the potions and curses. It’s been a rough couple of weeks for you hiding out in Jungkook’s house that’s for damn sure.

Which leaves the question: why are you hiding out in his house?

It was something the monster in question deemed necessary, now that he knows the truth of your linage he wants to protect you from vampires. As Eddie’s transition painfully drags itself to almost completion, your scent has only grown all the more enticing to the undead.

The Pi Gasu curse births a born predator, a powerful vampire, and when the DNA splits itself in the womb the other twin, the human twin, is cursed for a short-lived life plagued with the unwanted art of seduction. Everything about you mesmerises a vampire, securing your death and completing Eddie’s transition into eternal darkness. Restoring the balance in the world, one death for immortal life.

It’s been unbearable for both you and Jungkook to be around each other as your scent flourishes, drowning him, so much so that you’re staying in a small spare bedroom on the highest floor away from his choice of bedroom – the basement.

It's decorated nicely, the bedroom you’re staying in, as is the rest of his home. Plain and simple, added touch of personality. Almost like he saw the room in a catalogue and thought; 'that's what humans live like, I'll copy it.'

You’ve been in the basement many times, hell he’s nearly taken you to heaven and back again within those walls on multiple occasions when you used to fool around together. But it’s out of bounds right now, for no reason other than your safety. You know that he’s insisting you stay here for your own good, to stay alive, because he’s told you that he needs more time. More time to find a cure for the Pi Gasu curse, but so far his efforts have been futile.

Of course there was the spark of hope that perhaps if you turned into a vampire, Eddie would be saved and you could avoid being buried deep in the earth or being scattered in the sky. However, after much researching Jungkook and his for lack of better word friends Taehyung, Seokjin, Jimin and Namjoon all found no evidence to support the theory.

Apparently Jungkook isn’t willing to risk it regardless, he shut you down very quickly when you asked him to turn you. And not just because it’s illegal, but because he doesn’t want that life for you. He’s determined to find another way. And as you’re currently cooped up in his home asking any of the other vampires you know through association to turn you is somewhat impossible.

“Maybe I should just ask him to get this over with and kill me already.” You whisper at your reflection in the mirror, brushing out your wet freshly-showered hair.

That’s the inevitable, right? You’re going to die anyway so what’s the use in prolonging it? Eddie will be saved, Jungkook won’t have to fear that you’ve been found and killed by a vampire every damn day. It’s been a few days since you’ve even seen Jungkook’s face, usually he knocks on the bedroom door to let you know there’s food waiting for you before disappearing into the basement. It must be becoming a chore for him to take care of you like this, as much as it’s becoming a chore for you to stay put and wait for a miracle. You’re bored, broken and ready to face reality.

You were born to die.

Slowly, you push the bedroom door open, contrasting against the quickening of your beating heart. You’ve given him time and he’s found no cure. You’re ready to embrace death if it means your brother can be saved.

Skin still damp from the hot shower you cling onto the small towel that barely covers your modesty, making your way downstairs in his eerily homely home. It’s warm, as it has been throughout your stay here. Usually he would never feel the need to turn on the heating, but with a human under his roof he’s grown considerate of your comfort. Jungkook’s basically doing what he can to keep you alive, all while staying well out of your way and in turn not killing you himself.

Before you even have chance to call out his name in the open living area, he’s resting against the doorway in front of you – like he sensed you coming. Water beads trickle down your exposed skin when you stand completely still, frozen, staring at the vampire who’s hellbent on protecting your soul.

Jungkook swallows, wetting his lips all while his eyes slide over your body and drink in what you’re wearing. Well, what you’re not wearing. Unlike you he’s fully clothed, a shimmering red bomber jacket thrown over a zebra print sheer shirt that hangs just over his black belt. All tied together with ripped black jeans and bare feet. His disregard for colour palettes or themes when it comes to fashion choices never fails to amuse you. No human would ever dress like that.

“Did you need something?” His voice is flat, unreadable, much like the expression blanketing his sharp profile that’s only softened by the wavy locks of raven hair tickling his thick brows, “Are you out of clean clothes?”

“No… I just-, I just wanted to see you I guess.” You sigh absentmindedly, shaking some excess water from your hair, “It’s pretty lonely up there.”

The look on Jungkook’s face is nothing short of pained when his eyes squeeze shut, he looks almost guilty before he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Y/N… I’m sorry. But it’s for your own safety.”

“You’ve never hurt me before.” You mumble, averting his gaze.

And he hasn’t. Initially when you first met Jungkook all those months ago you were terrified of him and the prospect of what he could do to you. He’s strong, a lot stronger than a regular bitten vampire, he’s a Pi Gasu vampire, much like your brother he was born for this life. It’s in his veins and always has been. Even before his twin sister died and secured his place in the immortal world, the monster he became lingered beneath the surface. Waiting. Begging to be freed.

But then you got to know Jungkook on a personal level, and he would do anything to keep you safe. The fact you’re standing in his house proves the fact on some level, despite having no soul, he does care about you. There have been moments together, heated moments, moments that will last an eternity in his mind, where he could’ve succumb to his inner demon and blood lust. But he didn't.

Jungkook’s features soften upon meeting your eyes, his doe-like eyes may be crimson red in colour but they’re swimming with emotion, enough to make you drown in them, “Truthfully I don’t know what’s worse,” He frowns, pierced lips parted, “Staying away from you makes me crave you more, but being near you…”

“Makes you want to kill me.” You clear your throat, somewhat overwhelmed by his presence.

A while ago he’d asked you if you believe in fate, soulmates, convinced that you and he were tied by the beauty of the moon. But as you watch the man in front of you physically struggle to breathe around you, you’re reminded that it’s nothing more than the curse of the Pi Gasu.

The corners of his lips quirk up into a soft smile, “It’s not the curse.” His voice is low, it’s still equal parts infuriating and endearing that he can read your thoughts and you’ll never get used to it. “You’re… It’s…. It’s more than that. If I were only interested in you because of the curse you would’ve been dead a long time ago. The curse complicates things, but, well…”

“Maybe it’d be better for everyone if I just died already and got this over with.” You chuckle, while you’re trying to ease the budding tension with a joke at your own expense it’s obvious Jungkook doesn’t see the funny side. His frown deepens, a small hum escaping him.

“Is that how you really feel?”

“I’m just saying…” You sigh, squeezing the towel wrapping your body a little tighter, “Eddie will transition into a vampire, he won’t be in pain anymore… And you won’t have to waste time searching for a miracle. You can go back to your normal life before we met—”

“My time will never be wasted when spent on you.” He takes a step forward, surprising you, his jaw clenched so tight you wonder if vampire bones are capable of shattering, “If it takes me forever to find a cure then so be it, I’m not prepared to let you die.”

You try to reason with him, shuffling a cautious step in his direction, “I don’t want my brother to be in pain anymore, if dying is the only way—”

“I’m not going to let that happen!” The projection of his voice startles you, but not as much as the loud bang followed by bricks crumbling around his feet after he punches the door frame does. You stare at him wide-eyed and frightened, unable to peer away from the way his chest heaves up and down with each angry breath. “I need more time… I’ll find a way.”

At this you lose it, laughing humourlessly before you match his volume and rage, “There isn’t another way Jungkook! You’ve tried!” You rush over to him, until you’re in arms-length distance and being mindful not to step in the aftermath of his temper, “I can’t live like this anymore, knowing that it’s hurting my brother… I just-, I want this to be over with. I’m ready.” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut. It’s such a relief to say that out loud.

Jungkook swallows, dark eyes zoned in on your face, “Well I’m not ready to lose you Y/N.”

“It has to be this way, to save my brother.”

“I'm not letting you go, not yet. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” He begins, trembling tattooed hands gently finding purchase on your bare shoulders, “You’re the poem the universe wrote only for me.”

A tiny gasp betrays you when his inked fingers find your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. It’s indescribable how beautiful the man is standing before you, even in his human life he must’ve been the most handsome person around. His eyes are dark in colour, framed by even darker delicate lashes. The pits of your stomach ignite with desire, along with an uncontrollable need to be closer to him. A pull so inhumane and sewn deep into your soul that you struggle to compare it to anything you’ve ever experienced. It's Jungkook’s breath warm against your lips that breaks you from the trance, gazing up at him with big eyes.

“I know you feel this too… This comfort, this desire…” He whispers, until his lips are a hair away from yours, his own eyes sliding shut, “The ache in your heart, is my promise to you that this is more than the curse. You belong with me.”

“Then change me.” You plead quietly, cupping his angled jaw with your hands, “There’s no way to beat the curse, if it’s death that completes his transition… Technically I’ll be dead. Change me.”

“There’s no guarantee it’ll save you brother, there’s no guarantee you’ll even survive it… There’s no evidence of a Pi Gasu twin being turned. It’s too risky. Your life isn’t something I’m willing to take chances on.”

You sigh again, pressing your forehead to his, “Please, Jungkook.”

“You may have nothing to lose, but if we do this I’ll lose everything.” His whisper comes with his arms snaking round your back, pressing your body to his own. “If you die—”

“We don’t know that I won’t survive it,” You hold his face tighter, silently begging him to grant this wish for you, “I can’t tolerate the thought of my life causing my brother pain anymore. Please, for me, please. It will work—”

“Do you realise what you’re asking of me?” He bites, and for a split second you swear you see his chin quiver. “I could never forgive myself if it didn’t work, if you died before I had the chance to really be with you.”

His admission sends a rush of guilt over you, you are asking a lot of him but there is no other way. He’s searched, his friends have searched, and no cure has been found. If you’re going to die regardless, at least it won’t be in vain.

“Then be with me.” You whisper, “Take me, however you want me, have me.” You kiss his cheek, not missing the way his hold of you grows stronger.

“It’s too dangerous.” His face his scrunched tightly, as though he’s having a difficult time being so close to you. Where his skin is usually ice cold his cheeks feel flushes beneath your palms, “If I lose control, even for a second…”

“You won’t.” You hush his concerns, thumbs tracing back and forth on his skin in an attempt to comfort him, “And if you do… You could change me. This will work, I promise.”

"What if it doesn't?" He whispers back.

"But what if it does?"

Large palms make their way up your back until they find purchase in your damp hair, and at that exact moment nothing else in the world matters. It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel for each other so deeply, so unwaveringly, that when his lips find yours you simultaneously feel broken and complete all at once. When he kisses you you’re left breathless, haphazardly grabbing at his body to get impossibly closer to him, something he reciprocates wordlessly.

Jungkook’s hands are all over your frame, his lips crushing yours hard enough to bruise, with such urgency it makes your head spin. It doesn’t take you long to slide his jacket from his broad shoulders, messily clawing down his back when his tongue elegantly glides into your mouth and dances with your own. You stand there for some time, embracing each other, kissing as though it’s the last time, choking on the thick sea of words neither of you are too brave to speak.

It's then that you’re being whisked downstairs faster than you can humanly process. Your back hits the mattress on the large bed centred in the basement, Jungkook’s body atop of your own and strong arms caging you in. His lips never leaving yours, kissing you with so much yearning and lust that it’s enough to make you feel as though you’re the only two people in the world. When your arms reach out to his shirt buttons the towel you’re wearing falls open, revealing your entirely naked body underneath him.

The scent of your exposed flesh must’ve been like heat from a foreign country smacking Jungkook straight in the face when stepping off a plane. He pulls back ever so slightly, calming himself, steadying his breathing while burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I want you to know…” He exhales, voice thickened by bloodlust and greed, “That whatever happens, if this doesn’t work… In my own way, in my own morbid, sinister and selfish way. Not once in my centuries of existing have I ever felt this way about anyone.”

“Jungkook…” You whimper beneath him, ridding him of his thin shirt. You'd almost forgotten about the countless tattoos decorating his physique. The dark sleeves, the intricate artwork littering his entire body. The muscles on his body. He really is breath taking.

“To know you is to love you Y/N.”

Wet kisses smother your neck, filled with emotion and truths untold that have you sighing in bliss. He’s omnipresent, you can feel him in every inch of your body, his voice haunting your thoughts and his touch burning your flesh. His tongue glides over a sensitive spot on your neck and that’s when you feel his fangs, sharp and threatening, scratching the spot through the kisses. Jungkook’s movements grow more frantic, his mouth lapping up your taste before he hisses against you, shaking his head of the intrusive thoughts.

“It’s okay…” You whisper, “It’s okay… You won’t hurt me, I trust you.”

You feel his small smile against you, “A foolish mistake on your part.”

With your earlobe pinched between his teeth he rests his weight on one arm, snaking the other down to cup your breast. When his thumb grazes your nipple you both groan, overwhelmed by lust. Every nerve in your body is aflame, singing a song written for only Jungkook to hear. When his hand travels further down your bare body, until his fingers toy with your folds you lose all sense of who you are.

“Please,” You beg shamelessly, “Please touch me.”

“Once I start I won’t be able to stop Y/N,” Where his whispered warning should bring you to your senses, it does nothing save for fuel the burning desire in your body, “Being… Intimate with a vampire, it’s-, it’s not going to be like it is in the movies. It’s rough, it’s painful and it will hurt. Are you sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” You nod along a little too eagerly, ready to be thrown into the volcano. “Come here…” You gently grip his head and tug his neck to your lips, peppering the clammy skin with lewd kisses, “Can I-, um…”

For the first time in a while you hear him chuckle, his white smile so boyish and bright you almost miss the threat of his predatory fangs completely, “You can. Don’t hold back, get a good amount of blood in case this ends badly. Bite me like your life depends on it.”

Because it does.

With a lot of effort your teeth sink into his flesh and the familiar taste of iron coats your tongue. It’s not pleasurable, not for a human, to taste blood. But the moment is intimate, like you’re tasting the forbidden fruit you’ve been told to avoid your whole life. You’ve tasted his blood before when you fooled around, mostly because he didn’t want to hurt you and knew a drop of his blood would help repair any injuries sustained. But this time it's different, this really may be your last night with him if things turn sour.

Soon your biting turns to kisses and Jungkook lowers his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice raspy yet serious, “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.” You murmur against his skin, jaw falling slack with a gasp upon the sensation of his nimble fingers drawing firm circles over your sensitive area.

It’s euphoric, the feeling of coming undone beneath a monster you’ve lusted for since the moment you met him. Your body caged under his, his muscles sheltering you from the outside world. Like a rose guarded by it’s thorns, two halves a whole, neither one existing without the other. And as his ministrations grow more deliberate, dipping into where you crave him most, the rose begins to shed it’s petals. Layers of doubt, fear, uncertainty, falling onto the bedsheets with your discarded towel. Walls crumbling, only leaving the part of your soul that yearns for more. Your body language is something he is fluent in, understanding completely what you want and how to give it to you.

As you watch him slither down the sheets, until his face is buried into the plump flesh of your thigh, you feel like you’re falling. But he doesn’t let you touch the ground, catching you, he takes a deep breath through flared nostrils to steady himself before heavy eyes flicker to your face. Perhaps the most sinful feature of human nature is to give what we most wish to receive, and in this moment the only thing clouding the limited space between your bodies is the mutual need for intimacy.

To be loved.

Jungkook’s losing his mind, every ounce of self-restraint slowly dissipating into the carnal desire to claim you. To make you his in every sense of the word, until your minds, bodies and souls are eternally intertwined. His bare chest rises and falls in rhythm with your pounding heart, the scent of you flooding every sense he possess. Subconsciously his jaw tightens upon seeing your wet pussy shimmer in the dim lighting of the basement. The monster inside him has never been so painfully close to the surface in your presence, it’s a battle he knows he’ll ultimately lose and the neediness smothering your pretty features is far from helping the situation.

Open-mouthed kisses guide him to your swollen clit, where he takes it between his lips and begins to lap it up with a flattened tongue, sucking and licking until you’re writhing on the bed in equal parts shock and desperation.

“Fuck… Jung-, hnnng.” You moan breathlessly, feeling akin to being on cloud fucking nine, body tingling in every way imaginable. His licking grows heavier, more determined and erratic, barely giving you time to even out your unsteady breaths, “Shit, Jungkook.” You mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his greedy mouth.

His muscular arms sling themselves under your thighs, a bruising grip on your hips when he drags you closer to his face, the bend of his nose now flat against your core. You're no match for the shapes he's creating with his tongue. you don't stand a change against the harsh sucks and groans he's delivering. It’s as if he’s enjoying this equally as much as you, thick brows pinched in concentration while the hold he has on your bones turns painful. Hearing you cry out from the combination of pain and pleasure only spurs him on more, smothering himself between your legs where he eats you out so ravenously your legs twitch and tremble either side of his face.

“Jungk-, ohhh…” Your eyes glide back into your skull, hands roughly and quickly finding their way into the depths of his raven hair. With urgency you push his bangs away from his face to get a better view of the unholy display unfolding before your very eyes.

The dark veins framing his hooded gaze should deter you, turn you off, make you scream for an entirely different reason. But they don’t. In spite the noticeable bruising around his eye sockets, drawing attention to the beast inside him, you’ve never wanted him more.

It’s when he looks up at you that you realise exactly what he was referring to earlier. Despite having consumed his blood the strength he’s grabbing your body with hurts. You’re frowning, lips ajar to allow your shallow breaths and quiet whimpers escape freely. The pain is soon forgotten about when Jungkook hisses against you, sucking in a sharp breath before diving right back in, visibly losing control.

We don’t fall in love with the pure intentions in people, we fall in love with the darkness we recognise in others. From the moment your eyes met his, you knew there was something inside his demonic stare that felt like home. It’s all overwhelming, contradicting, confusing, but boy is it addicting.

It’s a stab to the heart and being brought back to life in the same moment, knowing it hurts but unable to pinpoint where. Just knowing you want more of it, until you’re gasping for air and drowning in the sea of possibilities. Further proving that if it doesn’t hurt, ache and bleed, it’s not love; and the way he holds your body strong enough to break it has you finally making sense of the term ‘to love someone to death’.

“Jungkook… I’m-,” You pant, tugging and pulling his hair, “I’m close. Please…” Your body shakes and jolts with ecstasy, the fire in your stomach never burning hotter. The pornographic sounds of him savouring every drop of arousal you’re giving him floods your ears, fogs your mind and throws you head first over the edge.

“Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming! Don’t stop!”” You gasp, back arching from the sheets, hands flying to your scalp to helplessly tug your hair.

Your frame is punched with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, pulsating with pleasure that comes in white-hot waves. Had Jungkook been human the way you’re pressing your thighs together from the overstimulation would have his eyes pop out his skull. Instead his face stays there, stare hungrily dragging itself up and down the spans of your sweaty body. His movements slow into an eventual nothing, aiding you ride out your high, until he’s suddenly above you, crashing his face to yours in a bloodthirsty kiss.

“Take more,” He orders, craning his neck to give you easier access to where you bit him previously, “I’m-, have more. Please. I’m not gonna be able to hold back much longer, I don’t want to hurt you.” The genuine pain weaved into his words sparks a panic inside you, this is him holding back? You think about how tightly he held you, how your bones almost crumbled beneath his fingertips. So you do as he says, biting him again until a soft moan emits from his pierced lips and catches you off guard.

“If this is too much for you…” You say quietly, guilt eroding your insides, “We don’t-, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me. If you’re not having a good time—”

You’re cut short by the sound of Jungkook’s breathy laughter, sounding disbelieved. He meets your eye contact with a smirk, still panting for air, “How can I put this to you?” He’s laughing, wetting his lips between smiles, “To call what we’ve just done ‘a good time’ is a fucking insult. I’ve never felt seduction like this, I want to have you, to take you, to consume you in every way imaginable until you’re mine.” There’s a possessiveness to his tone, one what reignites the fire of passion.

“I’m already yours.” You whisper, in what feels like a very profound moment where time itself comes to a halt.

Jungkook stills, swallowing the needy noises that threaten to betray him when you start kissing his neck again, softly, featherlight, showing him no fear or hesitation. You want this, just as much as he does, “Everything I am, everything I have to give, is yours Y/N.”

And just like that he’s kissing you again, feverishly, hopelessly, like a love sick fool glutton for punishment.

The tension picks up quickly, atmosphere shifting into something more sinister as Jungkook begins to lose his resolve. His body is tense, jaw tight, eyes slid shut and white teeth bared in a threatening snarl against your cheek. A hand reaches out to the wooden bedframe to steady himself, but instead it crumbles between his fingertips and he has no choice but to keep himself still to stay calm.

“Are you okay?” You peer up at him, expression innocent yet screaming concern.

Jungkook growls, he knew this moment would happen sooner or later but he doesn’t have time to dwell on the specifics. When his eyes lock with yours they’re deep red, rich, oozing lust, a born predator stalking his prey.

“You’re mine.”

A moment later he’s shed of any clothing, hovering above you, chest heaving up and down while panting for air. Your scent is everywhere, it’s enough to make his eyes roll back into his skull when he bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The tattoos, the muscles, the bumps and bends of his body have you silently pleading for him to take you, it’s the last thing Jungkook sees in your eyes before the monster inside finally takes over.

The lust that overcomes a vampire when aroused is like nothing any human would understand. The need, the urgency, the craving that weighs down their limbs and clouds their judgement. Any rational thinking dissolves quickly and the frenzy kicks in strong. With flared nostrils and unsteady deep breaths he lines his cock up to your entrance, hands trembling with anticipation and greed.

“Take me Jungkook,” Your voice is like that of an angel’s when it lands on his ears, quiet and calm, “I’m yours.”

With that statement your walls struggle to accommodate the size of his length as he pushes into you, the two of you groaning and gasping at the new mind-blowing sensation. Your hands are pinned above your head, held in place by the bone crushing grip Jungkook has on them with one hand, the other pawing at your left breast while his tongue finds your other nipple, swirling against it hungrily.

“Fuck!” You cry, never feeling so full in your life, “Jungkook… Oh my-, oh-, nnngh.” You whine pathetically between tiny breaths. You were warned that being intimate with a vampire was no easy feat, you knew it would hurt, and yet you’re still surprised at just how much it hurts.

“Who do you belong to?” Jungkook growls against your skin, pulling back his hips until he’s almost fully out of you before slamming himself back inside. Your organs already feel bruised, bones aching, head spinning. Yet there’s something tremendously addicting and pleasurable behind the pain.

“Y-you.” You hiss.

The roll of his hips is already overbearing, physically and emotionally pushing you to your limits. With each feral thrust you feel weaker, legs shaking in time with your pants for air. You’ve never given much thought to why mating with a vampire is illegal, Jungkook had explained to you that it’s extremely dangerous and the repercussions of these actions. Yet to experience it first hand is another thing entirely. The stretch is almost too much to handle, so much so that you shriek when you’re equally blessed and cursed by a particularly harsh thrust.

“Aaah!” Your eyes squeeze shut, mirroring the way your walls tighten around the girth currently stuffing you senseless.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” You barely register the words lost to the sound of his moans and groans against your flesh, too caught up in your own self-awareness and thoughts. This is really happening, you’re fucking Jungkook. And Jungkook is annihilating you.

Once you’re adjusted to the brutal pace he’s set, plunging in and out of you, the pleasure slowly creeps up on you like a stalker in the night. It’s there, you can sense it, you know it’s coming and you cling onto the feeling of growing arousal inside you as a way to deal with the aches and pains spreading your frame. Focussing on how good this feels, you manage to find a sense of bliss.

As though he read your mind, Jungkook snakes a hand down your body to your clit, rubbing the area firmly to amplify the pleasure you’re feeling. The movements of his hand match the snaps of his hips. Hard, deep, inhumane, but it’s enough to regain some strength in your limbs and reignite the fire of passion in the depths of your abdomen.

“Shhh, shit-“ You choke out, completely enamoured by the sensation, “Keep going. Just like that.”

"I knew you'd be able to take me," He gasps when you clench around him again, "Fuck... Mmmph."

"Please, don't stop..." You whimper, your second high fast approaching thanks to his huge cock effortlessly brushing past your most sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, "Please."

"I could fuck you for eternity." He spits, lips tucked between his teeth while trying to remain calm, tightening the grip of your bound hands with his own, "I'm going to fuck you for eternity baby. Every night, mmmph, forever."

"Forever." Your voice is barely audible over Jungkook's loud moans every time he fucks into you, the sound alone sparking a whole new wave of need inside you.

“You’re mine,” He reiterates between ragged breaths, “All fucking mine.”

“All yours.” You sigh, growing hotter and sweatier all while being drilled into the mattress beneath you, “I’m all yours, and you’re mine.”

And that he is. He’s spent the last eight centuries guarding his heart, guarding it so viciously that others questioned if he even had one. It may not beat, it may not pump blood through his body, it may not work at all. But even then, in its broken, shabby, moth-eaten and frozen state. It belongs to you. Each part of his being, both man and beast, is undeniably, unfathomably, and uncontrollably yours.

He can’t blame the curse for his feelings, the fact alone that you make him capable of feeling anything is all the proof he needs that you’re his mate. His true mate. Just because you’re a Pi Gasu, a blood singer, doesn’t mean the emotions surging his core aren’t real. He’s fucking you hard enough to break you, to kill you, if it were nothing more than the curse drawing him to you he would’ve bitten and drained you by now, he's being intimate with you because he wants to.

Therein lies the biggest mistake Jungkook could’ve ever made. With your naked, exposed, vulnerable body quivering beneath him – he thinks about your blood. The romantic taste it leaves on his tongue, the thick scent of it flooding this entire room, his nostrils, how your arousal makes it sweeter…

“Jungkook, oh my—” You whine, muffling your shy moans behind your teeth that are sunken into your lips.

Without warning the grip he has of your hands tightens again, and your eyes fly open in a panic when you hear, when you feel the bones in your fingers snap. You stare at Jungkook, dumbfounded, in a state of shock. But he’s too zoned in on your neck to notice your features, he hasn’t registered what’s just happened despite the fact your fingers are like putty in his hands. His grip tightens once more, this time your wrist shatters like the bedframe did earlier, and you can’t help but scream.

"Ahh!"

“Shit shit shit, fuck!” Jungkook snaps out of his daze, face full of horror upon seeing what he’s done, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” In a frenzy of contradicting emotion he takes his hand away from your wrist, grabbing your hip to still your bodies – except the pressure from his vice-like hold is strong enough to crush your bones.

“Ahh—!” You’re coughing, spluttering, crying when it feels as though your hipbone has been ground down to dust and popped out of socket, paralysed with pain.  “Jungkoo-, plea-, stop.” You choke, and the red tinge to his eyes quickly fades into chocolate brown. He raises his shaky hands to prove to you he’s not going to touch you, withdrawing himself from your body entirely.

“I-, Y/N… I’m sorry. I-, I lost it… Fuck, I’m s—”

“It hurts-, it-, it hurts.” You sob, physically incapable of moving your broken body on the bed, “Please… M-make it stop!” You’re roaring inconsolably, which tugs on the vampire’s heart strings a lot harsher than he’d prepared for. Nothing could’ve prepared him for seeing you in this much agony, nothing could’ve prepared you for feeling this much agony.

“I'll make it stop,” He nods once, twice, three times to syke himself up, “This is going to hurt, but it’ll take away the pain soon I promise.” With your eyes squeezed shut you manage to nod at him, giving him the only confirmation he needed to lower his lips to your jugular.

It’s a bittersweet moment for him, finally having the consent to bite you. But at what cost? He hurt you, something he’d promised himself he’d never do. And biting you now, after you’ve consumed his blood is going to change the course of your life forever. That’s if it even works… It should’ve prevented your bones from breaking, but it didn’t. Shaking the intrusive thoughts from his mind he kisses your neck tenderly, fluttering his eyes shut as mutual greed and despair takes over his immortal being.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, before plunging his sharp fangs into the supple skin of your neck as easy as a blade through soft butter.

The second your blood stains his tongue, it’s over. Not just for your mortality, your soul, but for Jungkook too. It was one thing to drink your blood from the donation vials you’d gifted him previously, but to feast on you in such an intimate way in such a sacred moment is unbearable. He grips your body tightly, shattering a few of your ribs in the process to tug you even closer, all while his eyes roll into the back of his skull. You taste like every sonnet ever written, like every genuine smile you’ve ever gifted him, he’s never tasted such romance that it’s impossible for him to stop.

“Jungkook…” You’re growing weaker by the moment, the agony broken bones forgotten about, replaced by a searing hot pain on your neck that makes you want to shriek and sob. Except you’re too frail to move, to complain, instead having to take the hurt for what it is and pray that it’s over soon.

“Jung-,” You’re lightheaded, rapidly emptying of blood as your eyelids grow heavy. It’s a selfless thought, your final one, prompting the corners of your lips to curl into a smile. At least your brother will be okay. “-Kook… I-,” Your breaths slow, as does your heart, but you’ll be damned if you die without speaking your truth, “-love you.”

Your heartfelt confession forces him back to reality, he gulps, somehow finding the inner strength to stop and let go of your body. With a heaving chest and aching heart he retracts his fangs, replacing them with a soft kiss to the wound he’s created. A kiss so heartfelt that Shakespeare himself would have difficulty describing it. It takes him a selfish moment to steady himself, to fully shake the demon within to the back of his thoughts and appreciate your words and their magnitude. His forehead rests against your cheek, his hair damp and wayward, sticking to his skin as he smiles.

“To say I love you too would be an understatement,” He exhales, withdrawing from your face when you don’t react, “Y/N?”

Death is so beautiful. To have certainty, no yesterday and no tomorrow, no misery or doubt, just eternal peace. Envy brews inside Jungkook at the prospect of those capable of dying, to be the first to say goodbye, to lay forever in the soil and be a part of something more. The circle of life, the balance and harmony of the universe. At least that’s how he viewed death until he saw the light fade away from your eyes.

“Y/N?!”

He sits back on his knees, panicking, only now registering just how much damage he’s caused. Your body is warped, a mangled version of the epitome of beauty it was before. Not once has Jungkook ever felt remorse for his killings, it’s not in his nature. But the sight before him has him feeling sick to his stomach. He did this.

“Y/N?! No, no no no no…” Frantically shaking his head in denial his hands find the towel, covering your intimate areas with it to spare you some dignity, “Come on… Come on… The venom should be working, stay with me baby, stay with me!”

Love never dies a natural death. It withers away from the wrongdoings of the person we trusted most. The deceit, the pain and betrayals. It dies because of us, the consequences of our own actions. In it’s final hours love hurts so much that we feel numb to the pain, and even though we know the inevitable is coming, the execution destroys us.

And Jungkook loved you so much that it killed you.

“Please, you can’t leave me! You-, we were meant to be forever.. Please, come on come on come on...”

For the first time in his immortal existence Jungkook is scared. You should’ve turned by now, you should be like him. He’s turned many before, all of which showed signs of life after death within seconds of dying. It was a risky move to make, turning you when knowing of your lineage and the Pi Gasu curse, but even he must admit deep down he thought this would work. The silence in the basement is deafening, not even a trace of you beating heart remains.

"I've searched for so long to find you, please," He's desperate, leaning down to bite the other side of your neck. Your wrist, your arms, his fangs even make their way down to your thighs to bite you there too. The venom should be working. Why isn't it fucking working?!

It's then that he maps out a plan, one that will end his anguish if you really are dead. He’s to report your death to the council, they would never let him live knowing that he mated with you, never mind the fact he murdered you. The council consists of the world’s oldest, strongest vampires that implore the laws and see out punishments for ones broken. He’ll be executed. He knows first hand that he will suffer, it will be torture, the same pain he inflicted on others when he was a part of the council before he fled. Even then, nothing could ever hurt him more than living, if that’s what he is, knowing what he’s done.

“I’m so sorry,” His quivering lips part, allowing sobs to escape freely.

Even in death you take his breath away.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook you’re screaming for him not to worry, soul banging against the flesh of your body as the venom of his bites spreads your veins. It’s indescribable, agonising and paralysing. Internally you have the energy to run a thousand miles, the room smells different, there are dust particles falling in front of your eyes that you so desperately want to catch between your fingertips that feel restored to their usual structure. Yet you can't bring your body to move a single muscle.

You’re pleading, begging for him to stop crying and see that it worked. It worked. Eddie's transition will be complete just as you finish your own. You’re right here with Jungkook, where you’ll always be.

Forever.

“I should’ve never put you at risk like this… I-, I should’ve shown more restraint. I should’ve never let this happen.” He continues, sparks igniting your skin when his cool fingers trace your profile before he shuts your eyelids for you.

“I spent centuries searching for you, longing for your touch… Only for my touch to be the weapon that kills you. I would’ve given you the world and yet I’m the one to take it from you. The irony of loving someone so much it kills you is wasted on me, I feel nothing short of heartbroken.”

Please, please don’t cry, you think, please.

The world’s greatest love stories are defined by tragedy, and there is nothing more tragic than finally embracing your adoration and love for someone when it’s too late. How selfish of you both, to only truly appreciate the other and the comfort they brought you once it faded into darkness. It takes every ounce of strength, every shred of adrenaline in your body to flutter your eyes back open. And when you do, you're greeted with the sight of Jungkook sobbing into his hands.

Your voice is hoarse, throat burning, as though you've just died and come back to life, but when it registers in your mates brain his gaze snaps to yours instantly, and he grins.

"I-I'm thirsty."