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The villa buzzed with the kind of easy, familiar warmth that only came when the Bellinghams managed to gather everyone in one place. Post-season in Madrid had been a whirlwind—trophies, travel, endless expectations—but tonight the sprawling garden and open living spaces felt like a proper exhale.

Strings of soft lights hung between trees, casting gentle glows over the stone patio where Mark was manning a makeshift grill with the focus of someone who refused to let anyone else touch the meat. Denise moved between the kitchen and garden like the quiet conductor she always was, refilling glasses and laughing at old stories.

Jobe had actually made it over from Germany, sprawled across one of the oversized outdoor sofas with the kind of dramatic exhaustion only a younger brother could pull off. Morgan Rogers and his partner had driven up too, along with a couple of Jude’s closest teammates who had become more like family over the long campaign.

You were in the middle of it all, a glass of wine in hand, moving between groups as the evening stretched. The successful season had left everyone in high spirits, and the celebration felt intimate rather than performative.

Jude had started the night relatively normal, laughing with his dad by the grill, teasing Jobe about his latest training stories, pulling you close for the occasional kiss or hand on your lower back.

But as drinks flowed and the hours passed, the alcohol slowly stripped away his usual careful filter. The version of him that always kept one eye on the room, aware of everyone watching, simply faded. What remained was pure, unfiltered Jude: touch-oriented to an almost comical degree.

He never strayed far. If you wandered into the kitchen to help Denise with more plates, he appeared a minute later, leaning against the counter beside you, fingers absently tracing the hem of your top while he asked what you were doing. If you stepped out to the garden to chat with Morgan’s partner near the flowers, Jude followed shortly after, sliding an arm around your waist as though he’d been there the whole time.

It was never dramatic, he just... gravitated. Like the planet had shifted slightly and you were the new center.

At one point you ended up standing beside the long outdoor sofa, talking with Denise and Morgan’s partner about some upcoming family trip. The conversation flowed easily, laughter rising when Denise recalled a particularly chaotic holiday from years ago.

Jude had been sitting on the sofa listening, or at least pretending to, for a solid thirty seconds. Then, without a word or change in his expression, he reached over, hand settling firmly at your waist. In one smooth, effortless motion he guided you backward and settled you sideways across his lap, your legs draping over his thigh as if it were the most natural seat in the garden.

His arm looped around your back to keep you steady, chin already resting on your shoulder as he picked up the thread of whatever Jobe was saying across from him.

You blinked, half-annoyed, half-amused, twisting in his hold. “Jude,” you said, voice carrying that familiar mix of exasperation. “I was in the middle of a conversation, you know.”

He hummed, eyes still on the group, fingers absently playing with the ends of your hair. “You can talk from here, darling.” His voice was low, warm, completely convinced he was being reasonable. One hand stayed spread across your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles like it was helping him listen better.

Denise let out a bright laugh from her spot on the arm of the sofa, shaking her head. “He’s been like this since forever, but the drink really brings it out.”

Jobe groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. “For God’s sake, he’s doing it again. Mate, she’s two feet away. Let her breathe.”

Jude blinked, genuinely puzzled, glancing between you and his brother. “What? She’s right here.” His arm tightened just a fraction around you, as if to prove the point.

You rolled your eyes, trying to push off his lap, but he simply adjusted his grip, pulling you back down with that effortless strength.

“Stop moving. You’re comfy.”

The group dissolved into laughter, the kind that came from watching someone they loved be utterly, shamelessly gone. Morgan exchanged a knowing look with his partner, both of them grinning like they’d seen this coming. One of the teammates muttered something about “post-season Jude” under his breath, earning another round of chuckles.

You swatted at Jude’s chest, fighting a smile. “You’re insufferable when you’re like this.”

He just smiled that slow, dopey smile, chin still on your shoulder as he pressed a lazy kiss to the side of your neck. “M’not insufferable, I’m affectionate.” His fingers hooked loosely through one of your belt loops, holding you in place while someone else picked up a new story.

The conversation moved on around you, plates of food passed, glasses refilled, but Jude remained exactly where he was, playing with your fingers, resting his head against yours, stealing small kisses whenever you paused to sip your drink.

Later, when you stood up to grab another bottle of water from the kitchen, he followed without hesitation. “Where you going?” he asked, voice soft as he caught up, two fingers slipping through your belt loop again to keep you close.

“Water, baby. Three metres away.”

He hummed, unconvinced, trailing after you anyway. Inside the kitchen he leaned against the island while you opened the fridge, then reached out and pulled you back against his chest the second you closed the door.

“Missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your hair like you’d been gone for hours.

You turned in his arms, laughing despite yourself. “You are ridiculous tonight, William.”

“Am not.” But there was a spark in his eyes now, that playful edge emerging as he realized how much your annoyance entertained him. He dipped his head, kissing you slow and deliberate, then pulled back just enough to grin. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me.”

The teasing only got worse after that. Every time you tried to step away to talk to someone else, he’d find a way to reel you back, sometimes with an arm around your shoulders, sometimes by simply patting the spot beside him until you gave in.

At one point, while you were mid-sentence with Jobe about his season, Jude hooked an arm around your waist and tugged you down onto his lap again, chin on your shoulder, completely ignoring the way you swatted at him.

“Jude, I swear—”

“What?” He looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes, the picture of sincerity. “You were standing, now you’re sitting. Better for everyone.”

Jobe made a gagging noise. “He’s actually lost it. Mum, do something.”

Denise just laughed from across the garden, raising her glass. “Leave him be, it’s been a long season.”

The evening carried on like that, warm, overlapping conversations, music drifting through the open doors, plates slowly emptying. Jude remained glued to you in that absentminded way, convinced the whole time that he was acting completely normal.

Only much later, when Mark finally pointed it out directly—“Son, you’ve had Y/N on your lap for forty minutes straight”—did he pause, look down at where you were comfortably settled against him, and blink slowly.

“…Oh.”

A beat of silence. Then he shrugged, pulled you a little closer, and carried on exactly as he was, pressing another lazy kiss to your temple while the laughter erupted around you. You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling too hard to truly fight it.

The garden lights had softened into a warmer glow as the evening deepened, the sky above the villa shifting from dusky blue to true night. Music still played low from the speakers, but the conversations had grown mellower, voices overlapping less urgently as plates emptied and drinks slowed. People were scattered more loosely now, some clustered near the grill where Mark was finishing the last rounds, others lounging on the sofas with the kind of comfortable fatigue that came from good food and better company.

Everyone was a little buzzed, the successful season’s weight finally lifting in a haze of laughter and easy silences.

You slipped away quietly after a while, telling Denise you just needed to check on something upstairs in one of the guest rooms, a forgotten charger Gio had mentioned earlier. Nothing urgent, but the kind of small task that felt necessary in the middle of a long night.

The villa’s interior was cooler, quieter, the distant hum of the gathering filtering up the wide staircase like background noise. Your bare feet padded softly on the tiles as you made your way down the hallway toward Jude’s bedroom wing, the familiar scent of the house wrapping around you.

You didn’t hear him at first to be honest, then the soft pad of footsteps followed, unhurried but inevitable.

Jude appeared at the top of the stairs a moment later, silhouetted against the warm light from below, his shirt slightly rumpled from the evening’s lounging. He didn’t say anything right away, just closed the distance with that same absentminded pull that had defined the whole night, one hand already reaching for your waist before he’d fully caught up.

“Thought you were just getting water,” he murmured, voice lower now that it was just the two of you, the alcohol still softening his edges.

His fingers spread wide against the small of your back, pulling you gently but firmly against him as you paused in the hallway outside his bedroom door.

You turned in his hold, half-exasperated, half-smiling. “I told you I’d be quick, you didn’t have to follow me all the way up here.”

He hummed, not really listening, his head already dipping to press a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Missed you,” he said simply, like it explained everything.

His hands were everywhere in that lazy, tipsy way—sliding up your sides, one settling at the nape of your neck while the other traced the curve of your hip, tugging you closer until there was no space left between you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, eyes heavy-lidded but bright, a small, dopey smile playing on his lips as he studied your face in the dim hallway light. “You look pretty like this, baby, all soft from the wine.”

You laughed quietly, the sound muffled against his chest as he leaned in again, but he caught your chin gently, tilting your face up so he could kiss you properly. It started slow, familiar, but the alcohol had loosened something in him.

He smiled into it almost immediately, the curve of his mouth unmistakable as he deepened the kiss, one hand threading into your hair while the other slipped under the hem of your top, palm warm against your skin. He tasted faintly of the drinks he’d had downstairs, and when he pulled back for air he didn’t go far, forehead resting against yours, eyes half-closed as he stared at you.

“Seriously,” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “How do you always look this good, princess? Even when you’re trying to escape me.” The teasing edge was there, playful and affectionate, but his hands kept moving, tracing your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he backed you gently against the wall beside his bedroom door.

Another kiss followed, slower this time, his body pressing into yours with that natural, unselfconscious need. He smiled again when your fingers tightened in his shirt, nipping lightly at your lower lip before soothing it with another kiss.

“Stay here a minute. Don’t need to go back down yet.”

You tried to protest, half-laughing between kisses. “C'mon, everyone’s still outside—”

“They’re fine,” he whispered against your jaw, lips trailing lower to your neck, hands sliding down to grip your hips as he pressed you more firmly against the wall. His touch was handsy but never rushed, exploring in that tipsy, appreciative way, palms mapping the familiar curves of your body like he was rediscovering them. He pulled back once more to look at you, eyes dark and soft, that wide, genuine smile breaking across his face again. “You’re my favorite person in the whole house right now, don’t leave me alone with them.”

The kiss that followed was deeper, lazier, his body molding against yours as one hand slipped further under your top, thumb stroking along your ribs. He made a quiet, contented sound when you arched into him, smiling into the kiss once more, the expression so purely happy it made your chest tighten.

“Love when you do that,” he murmured, barely pulling away, lips brushing yours with every word. “Makes me forget there’s anyone else here.”

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, studying the soft, unfocused warmth in his eyes and the way his smile lingered like he couldn’t help it. A soft laugh bubbled out of you, half-amused, half-disbelieving. “You’re so gone, William,” you teased, fingers tracing the line of his jaw as you took him in, the flushed cheeks, the heavy lids, the complete lack of awareness that he was trailing after you like a shadow. “I mean it. I’ve never seen you this far gone. You’re properly out of it tonight, baby.”

He blinked slowly, still smiling that dopey, content smile, like the observation barely registered.

“M’not gone,” he protested softly, but there was no conviction in it. His hands stayed exactly where they were, one slipping higher under your top while the other squeezed your hip, pulling you flush against him again. “Just… happy. With you.”

He leaned in, capturing your lips once more, the kiss slower and deeper this time, his tongue brushing yours in a way that made your knees feel a little weaker. When he pulled back, forehead still pressed to yours, he was staring at you again, really staring, like he was committing every detail to memory in his hazy state.

Downstairs the laughter rose and fell, distant and warm, but up here in the hallway it was just the two of you, Jude’s hands steady and affectionate, his kisses teasing and thorough, the alcohol stripping away any remaining self-consciousness until all that remained was the simple, overwhelming want to keep you close.

He didn’t rush, he just held you there against the wall, kissing you like the rest of the night could wait a little longer, smiling every time you laughed or tried to remind him there were people downstairs waiting.

For now, in this quiet pocket of the villa, you were exactly where he needed you to be.

author's note — if you enjoyed and would like to see more of my football works, click here :DD if you ever catch me writing a non-affectionate jude bellingham, assume i've been hacked lol. love whoever read till here, byeee <3

Instead, you’d replayed it so many times that certain moments began to blur together. His laugh. The warmth of his hands around your waist. The way he’d looked at you like the room full of people didn't exist.

How had you done this again?

You'd promised yourself. Seriously, you'd promised yourself!

You were supposed to be done chasing the version of Jude you kept convincing yourself still existed.. how many times now? You were supposed to stop mistaking scraps of affection for something genuine. Supposed to walk away before you found yourself in the exact same position, wondering why he always had this effect on you.

And yet, there you were; a week later, still thinking about the way his thumb had absentmindedly traced your thigh. Still remembering how naturally you'd leaned into him, your body forgetting every promise your mind had made. Remembering how you always believed that real love should be messy and hard,

It was embarrassing. Pathetic, really.

Not to mention you'd spent months telling yourself you were getting better, that you were finally learning to keep your distance. Then one night, a few drinks, one stupid dorky grin from Jude, and every ounce of self-restraint you'd built had come crashing down around you.

Life had settled back into its usual rhythm, unfortunately; nothing ever changed when it came to Jude and his promises. You went to work, answered your friends’ texts hours late, and tried to convince yourself that enough time would eventually dull whatever this feeling in your heart was. Now and then, though, Jude would appear somewhere you couldn't avoid. A photo from training, an interview someone reposted, a clip of him laughing from training that you scroll past far too quickly, only to find yourself swiping up to watch it seconds later. It was exhausting.

So when your friend texted asking if you wanted to accompany her to a charity dinner-gala of sorts she'd been invited to, you accepted without much thought. It sounded harmless enough. A quiet evening filled with footballers, sponsors, and people dressed in clothes worth more than your monthly rent. Free food, free drinks, a reason to wear the dress that had been collecting dust in the back of your wardrobe.

You didn't think to ask who else had been invited. Why would you? You already knew. Maybe that was why you'd said yes so quickly. You could blame it on the free food, the open bar, or your friend's persistence, but the truth sat boldly in the back of your mind. Some part of you had wanted to see Jude again. Not enough to swallow your pride and seek him out yourself, of course not. If you happened to run into Jude, well, then so be it. At least that way you could convince yourself it was fate, not another broken promise of his.

White tablecloths stretched across the room beneath towering chandeliers, candles flickering between extravagant floral arrangements. Waiters zoomed through the crowd balancing trays of champagne while photographers called names from the entrance, flashes bouncing off polished marble floors. Conversations in all kinds of different languages echoed around the huge marble space, every corner occupied by familiar faces from clubs across Europe.

You'd barely accepted a glass of champagne before you saw him.

Jude stood near the front of the room, surrounded by teammates, sponsors, and club officials, dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him so perfectly it may as well have been stitched onto him. His head tipped back as he laughed at something Vinícius had said, one hand tucked casually into his pocket while the other balanced a champagne flute between his fingers. He looked happy, unbothered. Exactly how you’d imagined he'd been all week, and the thought made your stomach churn. How fucking dare he act like you're invisible again? After everything?

You watched him for a moment longer than you cared to admit before forcing yourself to look away. Right. He was just a man. Jude Bellingham was only a man. You repeated it to yourself once, twice. It didn't help. Ah, well. Jude Bellingham was only a man. And at least one day you would definitely die. Lovely, lovely, warm, sweet death. The thought nearly made you laugh to yourself.

Deciding you'd tested your luck long enough, you turned on your heel before he had the chance to notice you. Or so you thought.

"Aye, there you are."

Your shoulders immediately stiffened. That voice.

You screwed your eyes shut for the briefest second before turning around, finding Jude standing beside you with the same infuriating grin he'd worn the night of the celebration, looking entirely too pleased with himself. You hated this game. You hated that Jude always seemed to have the upper hand in this little game of cat and mouse, even when he was supposed to be the one running. Because he knew. He knew you would always come back. He knew, no matter how many times you promised yourself otherwise, you'd always find yourself chasing after him.

"I was wondering how long it'd take before I found you."

"You weren't supposed to find me."

"No?" Jude challenged, amusement flickering across his face. "I was actually counting on it."

You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip of your champagne to hide the smile threatening to appear. "That's a shame, then."

"Listen, I’ve got a question for you."

You sighed, holding back an eyeroll. "You usually do, Jude."

Something about his expression shifted. Not enough that anyone else would've noticed, but enough for you to catch it. It was gone so quickly you could've convinced yourself you'd imagined it if you didn't know him as well as you did.

Jude was good at hiding things. Everyone saw the confidence, the effortless charm, the way he carried himself like the entire world was already at his feet. But you had always been better at noticing the moments in between.

"I was supposed to bring someone tonight."

Your brows lifted at his words. What is he getting at?

"But she cancelled."

"And?"

"And now everyone keeps asking where my date is."

A quiet chuckle escaped you. "Hm. Sounds like a you problem."

"It is," Jude admitted with an easy nod. "Which is why I'm asking you to fix it."

You stared at him in disbelief. "No."

"You don't even know what I'm asking."

"I have a feeling I do."

Jude’s grin only grew. "Be my date."

Silence settled between the two of you as the sounds of clinking glasses and distant conversation faded into the background. Your first instinct was to laugh in his face. Your second was to remind him that the entire reason you'd spent the last week avoiding him was because this, whatever this was, always ended the same way. Somehow, you always found yourself back here, standing too close, letting him make you forget every reason you had for staying away.

Instead, you simply looked at him blankly. He returned your gaze without a shred of hesitation, as though asking you to spend the evening on his arm was the most natural request in the world. Then, as if he already knew your answer before you'd even given one, Jude stuck his arm slightly between the two of you, offering it out with an almost amused tilt of his head.

"Y’know," he murmured, rubbing his arm before looking back at you, chuckling boyishly, "most people would be honoured."

You scoffed softly. "You're fucking impossible."

"Maybe." His smile widened as he licked his lips. "But you're considering it."

You hated that he was right. You hated that after all the promises, all the distance, all the convincing yourself that you were finally done falling into his orbit, your hand still moved before your brain could stop it.

Your fingers curled around his arm.

Immediately, his expression shifted just enough that you noticed the satisfaction he tried to hide, the small smile tugging at his lips as he had just won something far more important than a football match. And maybe, in a way, he had.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," you muttered while scrunching your nose up.

"Oi, I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to."

Jude’s laugh was quiet, almost smug, as he guided you back toward the crowd. You hated how easy it was. How naturally you fell into step beside Jude, how your body seemed to remember him before your mind could remind you that you were supposed to be careful with the man. How you should be careful with your precious, fragile heart that had been broken so many times into two.

That was always the problem with Jude. Nothing with him ever felt like a decision. It just happened.

One moment you were keeping your distance, reminding yourself that this was exactly what you had promised not to do again. The next, you were standing beside him as though you belonged there at his side, listening to him make effortless conversation with people who wanted his attention while somehow still finding ways to include you.

And maybe that was what made it worse.

If he had ignored you, if he had treated you like everyone else, walking away would've been easier. But Jude never did. Every time you thought you had finally figured out how to let go, he gave you just enough reason to hesitate, enough reason to weasel his way back into the crevices of your deeply complicated heart.

The evening blurred into a series of champagne refills and conversations you only half listened to. Who wants to listen to men talk? You told yourself it was the alcohol making you less guarded, the warmth spreading through your chest, and the music filling the room making everything feel softer than it was.

"You've been quiet."

You glanced over at him. "Have I?"

"Yeah." Jude tilted his head slightly, studying you. "You've usually argued with me by now."

A small smile pulled at your lips. "Maybe I'm tired of arguing with you."

Jude looked unconvinced, narrowing his eyes, amused. "No… you're not. Y’never are."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the laugh that followed.

Hours ago, you'd walked into the room determined to avoid him. Now you were laughing at his jokes, accepting another drink he offered, letting yourself forget why you'd been trying so hard in the first place. Sound familiar?

And when the crowd around you became too much, when the noise and attention started to feel overwhelming, Jude noticed before you even said anything.

"Come on," he murmured.

You looked at him suspiciously. "Where?"

"Somewhere quieter."

You should've said no; you knew that. Every warning bell in your head was going off, reminding you that this was the exact pattern you were trying to break. That this is exactly what happened last time you were together. Friendliness turned flirting, turned into more.

But then Jude smiled, that familiar, impossible smile that always made everything seem less complicated than it was. Thus, somehow, you found yourself following him anyway. Which, really, was the most predictable thing you could've done the whole night.

The hallway was noticeably quieter than the ballroom, the overwhelming noise of conversation and music fading into something softer with every step. For the first time all night, it felt like there wasn't an entire room of people watching. No cameras. No teammates. No strangers trying to figure out why Jude Bellingham had spent the evening keeping you by his side.

Jude leaned back against the wall, looking far too comfortable with the situation. Acting as if he hadn't just dragged you away from a room full of people after you'd spent the past week convincing yourself you were finally done letting him get this close.

"Y’know," he started, peering at you, "you make it very difficult to believe you actually want to stay away from me."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "That's because I don't make it difficult."

"No?"

"No."

His eyebrows lifted, clearly unconvinced. You hated that he knew you well enough to do that.

"You're very fucking annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard."

"Probably because it's true."

Jude laughed, and for a moment you forgot you were supposed to be guarded. Forgot that you had walked into this evening with rules and boundaries and a very clear idea of how it was supposed to go. Jude had always been good at making you forget.

"You disappeared the other day," he reminded you eventually, his voice sighed.

You looked down at your heels, pursing your lip. "I was busy."

"Busy avoiding me, eh?"

You didn't answer, which was an answer in itself. His eyebrows turned upwards, and he almost pouted; in any other context you would have teased him for looking so exasperated.

"I was worried you were actually done with me this time."

Your eyes moved back to his dark gaze. The honesty surprised you because Jude was always confident and certain. But standing there, away from everyone else, he looked almost unsure. Which made that somehow worse; it would've been easier if he didn't care. It would've been easier if he was just the person you'd convinced yourself he was. Instead, he stood there looking at you like maybe he had been thinking about you too.

And you weren't sure what to do with that, all things considered; this was Jude. The same Jude who could look at you like you were the only person in the room, then remind you that he wasn't looking for anything serious. The same Jude who pulled you closer, who made you feel wanted, who sought you out in crowded rooms, only to leave you questioning what any of it actually meant, if it had meant anything at all.

He was the one who had drawn the line. He was the one who had told you he couldn't give you more, that he wasn't ready for something that required more than late nights, secret moments, and whatever existed between the two of you–or rather–the less romantic way–friends with benefits.

Yet here he was, looking at you like he was the one afraid of losing something. That was the part you couldn't understand. How were you supposed to believe this meant anything when he was the one who had made it clear it couldn't?

Therefore, for once, you didn't rush to fill the silence or reassure Jude. You didn't make some sarcastic comment to hide the fact that his words had affected you. You didn't give him the easy reaction he'd gotten so used to.

Your gaze moved toward the floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room, trying to focus on anything other than the man across from you. You wiped at the slight smudges of mascara beneath your eyes, thankfully nothing noticeable enough to ruin your appearance. Next was the corner of your lips, checking that your lip gloss hadn't wandered anywhere it shouldn't have.

A pointless thing to worry about, but anything was better than looking at Jude and admitting that, despite everything, a small part of you still wanted to hear him admit he was wrong.

Jude watched you quietly with furrowed brows. Through the mirror, you could see the gears in his head turn. Eventually, he cleared his throat and walked towards you, planting his feet right in front of yours, leaning down to your eye level.

“Didn’t you tell me that the next time we won a match I could do whatever I want with you?” Jude was gaining your attention again, reaching his slender finger under your chin and directing your gaze back to him by turning your head slowly.

You giggled, eyebrows raising; not needing much reminder of the words you definitely muttered. Or maybe messaged; maybe both.

“That was because I wasn’t there,” you hummed, head tilting aside. “You don’t invite me to your games, remember?” you sassed, watching as his face faltered. Then, his eyes narrowed into a playful glare; one you returned with a teasing smile, as if to say you weren’t being serious.

You two moved past your comment; you made sure of it, although it would linger on Jude’s mind.

“C’mon, you have people waiting, I’m sure,” your hand pressed against his toned chest, gently patting him as you ushered him backwards toward the noise of the ballroom.

It was almost laughable. You were actually doing it! For once, you were the one walking away.

You were trying to have the upper hand this time, trying to make Jude wonder where you went instead of always being the one left wondering where you stood. Maybe if you pulled back first, he'd finally understand what it felt like. Maybe he'd finally wake up from this comfortable little daze he'd been in, where he could have your attention whenever he wanted without ever having to give you anything in return.

Or maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could. That you weren't as predictable as he thought.

Jude stared at you for a moment, almost like he wasn't used to being dismissed. Like he was waiting for you to change your mind, to laugh it off, to fall back into the familiar rhythm the two of you always found yourselves in.

You didn't. You simply smiled, taking a small step away. You didn't give him the chance to say anything else. Spinning on your heel, you slipped back into the crowd as discreetly as possible, weaving between conversations and groups of people before he could stop you.

The moment you rejoined the crowd, the atmosphere morphed to invite him back in. Jude had barely stepped back into the main room before people noticed him. Cheers erupted almost immediately, voices calling his name as he was pulled into conversations, surrounded by teammates, sponsors, and guests who all wanted a piece of his attention.

Just like that, he was swallowed by the crowd. The sight should've made you feel relieved.

Instead, you found yourself searching for him anyway. A terrible habit though a familiar one. You had just turned away, reaching for another drink, when Jude’s voice caught you before you could get too far.

"Hey, don't you dare go anywhere!" Jude managed to yell out to you before he was dragged off again, leaving you to laugh and only hum.

It was only your friend who met you with suspicious eyes; you found it comical she was the first person you came across, sheepishly smiling.

“Oh, you’re so full of shit!” your friend yelled, your cheeks heating as you shook your head; even pouting as you realised you had no defence. Or shame or regret. yet, at least.

“Stop,” you whined as you hit her lightly, huffing as you grabbed her drink off her–downing it quickly as she giggled. “We didn’t do anything.”

“No judgement; after you told me, I knew you wouldn’t stay away. I can’t say I blame you,” she mused, and your eyes were rolling once more that night, shaking your head as if you had no idea what she was talking about. As if you too shared the same thought process, as much as you’d deny it.

You moved the focus of the pair of you on quickly, returning to dancing and socialising–people coming and going as the hours ticked by into the late evening, crowd thinning but not by much.

Jude’s words were ringing in your head; don’t go anywhere. But when it was almost two you were thinking of leaving, doubting Jude would be making your company once more this night.

Why did you want to keep him company? You wish you knew. If you could figure out why you were unable to avoid the man, your life would be a lot easier. But maybe tonight was different; maybe it was a comfort.

A comfort to know he would spend a memorable night of his life with you. A night he’d never forget; you’d be right there in his mind, when he’s old and grey. It would be nice to know you weren’t the only one clinging onto the idea of the pair of you; that he too would reminisce and think about it.

Your doubt continued to grow, though, alongside the temptation of your comfortable bed.

You were stupid to doubt Jude, however. You spotted him easily, considering the crowd that seemed to follow him everywhere tonight.

You watched as Jude’s big eyes darted around the room, almost urgently, searching out something or someone; searching out you.

When his eyes met yours, you watched as he grinned widely, shoulders relaxing as he suddenly moved with intent; weaving past the people surrounding him towards you. You watched in amusement, almost shock; surprised he’d meant it. Confused if you thought too hard.

“You’re still here,” Jude was grinning ear to ear, hand finding your waist almost immediately when he was in reach.

You mumbled something playfully about how it wasn’t by choice, earning a laugh.

“We’re moving up to a booth, c’mon,” his statement was an invitation, and suddenly plans of going back home were long forgotten.

All it took was a nod before his hand took yours, fingers intertwined, leading the way to a booth that was decorated in more bottles of champagne and a ‘Hala Madrid’ sign; lucky partygoers and friends filling the seats, you shuffling in next to the footballer.

Jude’s iron grip didn’t leave you. Whether it was on your thigh, your hand, your waist, your shoulder; he was always touching you as the conversations flowed.

You failed to notice the little things at first. The way he would subtly pull you closer whenever you laughed a little too hard at one of his friend's jokes, like he wanted to remind himself you were still there. The way his attention always seemed to drift back to you whenever the conversation around him became too loud or too crowded.

But you did know what it looked like, though. The two of you.

You knew your friend would have laughed the second she saw it, probably asking what the fuck you thought you were doing after everything you had promised yourself. Because from the outside, the pair of you looked effortless. Like there wasn't a history of hesitation and almosts and conversations that never quite reached a conclusion and left more questions than answers.

But as the night went on, as the crowd slowly began to thin and the chatter around you faded, you found yourself caring less. The booth had emptied at some point. You weren't sure when. You hadn't noticed the way he had quietly encouraged the last few people lingering nearby to move elsewhere, leaving the two of you with a rare moment where you weren't competing with everyone else for his attention.

Maybe that should've been your hundredth warning. But you stayed.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight?” Jude’s question was accompanied by his hand returning to your thigh, resting higher than it had earlier on–head tilting towards you.

You giggled, leaning back into your seat and shifting to face him, side pressed against the back of the booth as opposed to your back now.

“No,” you told him, eyes flickering over his face, your gaze catching on his eyelashes, the small details you’d noticed too many times whenever you woke up first after a night together. His features always seemed so much harder to ignore up close.

“Look beautiful,” he hummed, and though he sounded incredibly sincere, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What? You do, you are,” Jude huffed, not amused with your laughter–although the sound of your laugh had his lips naturally curving upwards despite his dismay, hand squeezing the soft plush of your thigh gently. “You always are.”

Your cheeks heated despite you shaking your head, hands moving up in innocence.

“I didn’t say anything,” you defended, not elaborating on what appeared to be doubt. Not at your own expense, rather more his intentions. You didn’t want to hear his compliments that had your heart fluttering. or notice the way he was looking at you with such admiration. You couldn’t afford to let your mind pick at and analyse every word and action with a hope that maybe he too felt the same as you.

Jude hummed aimlessly at your defence, hand dangerously high now on your thigh–but it felt right, as if it belonged there. Regardless, the feeling of it creeping upwards had your senses suddenly on high alert.

“Mmm… I’ve missed you,” Jude’s words left his lips before he could stop them, but he didn’t show any regret or panic, eyes pouring into yours. It’s the second time he’d said such a thing tonight, and you still didn’t want to hear it. Even in your tipsy state, it sent an alarm through your nerves. Don’t believe him, don’t get your hopes up again.

Your eyes were quick to leave his, hand reaching for your champagne glass in front of you; humming to try dismiss his words, missing the way his eyes squinted as he watched on.

“You don’t believe me,” Jude chuckled lowly as you sipped your drink, frame tensing as you prolonged shifting towards him again.

You weren’t given much choice, though; his hand–the one not planted on your thigh–was grasping your chin between his thumb and finger, bringing your attention back to him as you placed your drink back down. His eyebrows raised expectantly, silently telling you to speak, to confirm his suspicions. His thumb absentmindedly wiped a drop of champagne from the corner of your mouth as he waited.

“Jude, you don’t know what you’re saying,” you spoke softly, masking the weight of your words with a soft smile and watched as his face flickered in thought.

“You don’t know that.” Jude was quick, unlike you, tone one of certainty you almost envied; his grasp still set on your chin as if he was scared you’d try to escape his gaze once more. A reasonable fear.

“Yeah… okay,” you admitted defeat, in no way wanting to discuss this right now. Not while you were so close to him, so keen to get under him once more. You couldn’t think straight about him when he was invading your senses.

Jude wasn’t convinced that you suddenly believed him, but he wouldn’t push further; not when you were still in his grasp and glowing in satisfaction.

The footballer went to speak again; but for once you got on the front foot. there wasn’t much distance between the pair of you, so kissing him before he could get any words out was easy.

Perhaps Jude should’ve held his ground, stayed true to his intentions, and reassured you like a proper gentleman. Maybe he should’ve remembered the boundaries he’d set, the words he’d said before, the reasons he’d given you for keeping things the way they were.

But he didn’t; because with you, Jude had always been far better at feeling than thinking. Thus, naturally, Jude began to kiss you back. The light grasp on your chin turned to a firm hold of the side of your head, beckoning you closer as your hand planted on his chest.

You pulled away momentarily, barely; just so your lips left his, feeling his breath fan your face. You felt as if you’d overstepped, knowing he had reservations about PDA in public. You knew people spoke, and you weren’t his—realistically, the outrage would be immense.

Jude’s fingers brushed your hair delicately, as if he knew what thoughts were going through your head; and he didn’t hesitate to guide you back towards him, lips meeting once more. It was more heated this time; nowhere near as messy as the one in the bathroom a week ago, though.

Jude needed you closer, shifting his grip to your hips to pivot you up and onto his lap, your body sliding perfectly between his and the table behind you, straddling his lap with no complaints. It was out of character, knowing someone could walk up into the secluded section and see the pair of you, but if he didn’t care, neither did you.

Your dress rode up your legs from your new position, not enough to expose you, thankfully, but the rough fabric of his pants against your clothed clit had you whimpering against his lips.

The sound rang straight to his cock, which was already straining against his pants. He’d been fighting a semi since you slipped into the booth next to him earlier. Jude had always gotten so desperate and needy and the way you were slowly and not-so subtly grinding your hips against him made it a lot harder to ignore. It also had an idea forming in the wicked mind of his.

You were left to catch your breath as he pulled away this time, hands lifting you momentarily and easily handling you to straddle just one of his thighs now, your cheeks heating as you immediately caught on. It wasn’t the first time you’d been in this position with him, except last time it was in the privacy of his apartment while he was on a work call.

“Anything… I want, right?” Jude breathed slowly out, intense was his stare as his hands spread across your sides, smoothing your dress down despite wanting to rip it off of you.

It was like a trance when he got like this, eyes darker–the way his jaw was clenched shut, his gaze alone having you feel the need to squirm and stutter.

Your head looked over your shoulder, just once, needing the confirmation you were as alone as you could be; music still playing faintly at the gala, voices still heard from the floor down below—but you were alone up here. That’s all you needed to know.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, hands grasping at his suit where they were previously planted on his chest–left to watch as his lips curved upwards into that damn smirk.

“Go on then,” he hummed, adjusting slightly in his seat, getting comfortable as his head tilted back ever so slightly. “Use me to get off,” he sounded so casual, your cheeks roaring in heating as you suddenly wished you’d accepted that last round of shots half an hour ago.

But you didn’t need any more motivation when his hands tightened on your waist and dragged your hips for you—your jaw going slack from the sudden pressure.

His lips twitched upwards cockily once more, watching as it sprung you into action; your hips following his movements and rutting against his thigh, chasing the feeling you knew only he could give you.

The footballer’s hands folded behind his head now, watching intently as your bottom lip ran between your teeth, eyes flickering up and down your frame.

“Atta girl,” Jude praised through a soft hum, and you had to bite down harshly on the inside of your cheek to refrain from moaning.

He looked fucking incredible; and you were missing the feeling of his hands on you. Your hips worked faster as if it’d motivate him to touch you again. Jude had you read; he always did. He knew what you wanted and could tell by the way your eyes were pleading with him. How you were fighting back a pout and whine. Your grip on his button down had tightened, practically tugging at the material.

Jude could be cruel, but he was in no mood to deny himself tonight—considering the last time he got off was the quckie last week—he’d give you something; hand moving to cup your jaw, thumb pressing against your soft lips.

You didn’t miss a beat, allowing the digit to enter your mouth without any hesitation; Jude watching the way your eyes almost glistened in submission as he pressed down on your tongue.

You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, grunting slightly at the mere sight of you—your hips still grinding against him desperately as you treated his thumb as if it were his cock.

He was almost in disbelief, how he had you like this for him, where really anyone could see if they were to walk up the stairs. it was ridiculous actually, and stupid; both of you being incredibly idiotic, but too lust driven to care.

he wasn’t oblivious to the fact you made him think irrationally.

“Fucking look at you,” he muttered under his breath, his Birmingham accent deepening while his head tilted in slight awe. There was always a teasing tone underneath when he spoke like this. “So pretty like this, so needy, hm?”

You whimpered, unable to shut yourself up this time, surprised you’d kept quiet so long. Your thighs twitched a few times, still desperately chasing your high like he’d told you to. It was building, your stomach was tightening and you could feel the way your hips were beginning to move erratically. As could he.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged while sliding his thumb out of your mouth, selfishly wanting to hear you despite your best efforts to stay quiet. “Cum for me, yeah? All for me,” Jude edged you on ever so strategically as he tensed his leg and jolted it upwards once, then twice.

It was all you needed, your first orgasm of the night hitting you as you shook in his lap.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned through gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough for the music to drown you out. Your body folded over to hide your head in his neck, muffling any other sounds from escaping you.

“There you go,” Jude soothed, hand sliding down your back delicately, his other brushing the hair off your face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Good girl, so fucking good.”

Even in your slightly dazed state, the affection had your chest tightening, still not used to the soft moments he always found time for between orgasms.

You took a few moments to compose yourself, lifting your head sheepishly as your eyes met his once more.

“Your trousers are gonna be ruined,” you mumbled, pouting up at him in slight embarrassment—watching as he chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Last thing I care about right now,” Jude snickered, gently adjusting the strap of your dress that had fallen down your arm with his eyes lingering on your chest for a brief moment as he did so.

“Should I call the car?” he asked you, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead now, delicate this time, purely because he knew if he got too handsy now he’d not be able to stop himself.

You nodded, not allowing yourself the time to think too deeply about the prospect of leaving with Jude. Maybe that was easier. If you stopped to consider it, to really acknowledge what you were doing, you might remember every reason you had promised yourself you wouldn’t.

But you shouldn’t have been surprised at this point: you couldn’t resist him. It was a fact you hated admitting, but one you could never seem to deny.

The pair of you got outside relatively smoothly; you let Jude drag you to the exit as he simply waved and dismissed anyone who tried to speak to him, his large hand enveloping yours.

The car was waiting, a bouncer opening the door for the pair of you as you slid into the backseat, not phased by the fact the sun was preparing to rise, painting the sky a soft, deep purple.

The dark privacy partition separating the backseat from the front was all Jude needed to see before he was on you again.

Rushed and messy once more, you hadn’t even got your seatbelt on before his hands cupped his cheeks as he leaned over you, closeness a need as your lips moved against his perfectly.

Your chest was practically pressed to his, but still his hand found your back, attempting to pull you closer, earning a muffled giggle as you threw one of your legs over his.

“Need you so bad,” Jude grumbled against your skin as his lips shifted to your jaw, then down your neck, your head falling back invitingly as you grinned.

His lips moved to your cleavage now, kissing at the skin of your breasts. Jude was about to tug your dress down until you sat up straight and pushed him back towards the seat.

Your hands found the zipper of his pants before Jude could get a word out, the Brit relaxing into his seat, in no way going to protest.

Jude watched through hooded eyes as you made quick work of freeing his cock, which was painfully hard at this point. He hissed through his teeth as your hand wrapped around him, jacking him off once, twice, three times—smearing the precum across his tip and down his length.

His head threw back from the initial relief, and he couldn’t stop the noisy moans that escaped him when he felt your soft lips wrap around him. He peeked down at you quickly, watching as you leant over into his lap, head bobbing up and down now as he gathered your hair into his hand and out of your way.

“Fuck—oh, fuck—just like that baby,” Jude grunted as his hips jerked upwards, smacking the back of your throat momentarily, which made you gag. Yet you didn’t miss a beat in your movements.

Your hand gripped his thigh for stability, tongue swirling around him expertly, keen to get him off as his eyes rolled back from a feeling he could only describe as ecstasy.

Jude could’ve cummed there and then, no shame either; but Madrid felt so small and the car came to a halt much sooner than he’d liked. You reluctantly slid off him, wiping your mouth oh-so innocently as you did so, cheeks flushed and eyes watery. Meanwhile, Jude hissed, trying to stuff his burning hard on back in his trousers.

You giggled slightly, climbing out the car with him not too far behind.

Jude was sure to thank the driver, emptying his wallet of its cash to provide a sufficient tip considering Jude was unsure what the man would’ve heard, but frankly he didn’t care. Not when you were in his sights.

The elevator ride up to his apartment mirrored the first moments in the car, your body pressed between his and the wall of the elevator, lips in sync, make out interrupted by the ding of the doors opening.

You were kicking your heels off before he even got the door to his place open, discarding them the moment you stepped inside. Jude used you to shut the door, pushing you roughly against the surface.

“Nuh uh,” you stopped him as he leant in to kiss you once more; your hands pressing against his chest. “Want to make you feel good,” you spoke softly, hands returning to the zipper of his pants to free his cock once more.

His eyes squinted in thought, keen to be inside of you, keen to be watching you squirm and hear you scream his name was all he could bloody think about.

You recognised that look. “Please,” you added desperately, hands tugging the straps of your dress down, your tits spilling out, which had his eyes shamelessly flickering downwards.

Jude couldn’t say no to you, not when you asked so nicely. He simply stepped back, giving you space to sink to your knees as your hand wrapped around his cock once again.

You licked up the base to the tip, eyes fixated above you, watching him as he did so; noticing the way his adam’s apple bobbed from the single action.

“Tease me baby and I’ll happily play with your pretty pussy til you're crying,” Jude whined out quickly while his hand found its rightful place in your hair, giving it a not-so-delicate tug for good measure.

You moaned at the action, confirming what you both knew was that you got the reaction you wanted; thighs squeezing together at the ‘threat’ but taking him in your mouth fully regardless. quick to mumble a ‘so impatient’ beforehand.

Jude’s actions were identical to before, except his head fell forward this time while his free hand scrambled to grab the door in front of him, your name falling from his lips in a groan like a mantra. It only motivated you, the grunts and small sounds Jude made. You were so eager to draw more out of him. You wanted to hear him praise you like he always does.

His sounds mixed with your own, gagging around his length. No matter how many times you found yourself in this spot he would always be too big, but it didn’t stop or affect your efforts. And it only turned him on more, refraining from squeezing his eyes shut to watch as your eyes watered once more.

“Always—fuck—gagging for it,” Jude spoke cockily, a moan escaping him momentarily before he could continue his taunting. “Bit of a slut for me, no?” he chuckled hazily through gritted teeth. He couldn’t stop the grin for forming as you moaned around him. Jude’s head fell back now, a breath of content falling from his lips as he shut his eyes momentarily. “Too good to me, agh,” he grunted, hips thrusting forward, and you let him. Anything to get him off sooner.

Jude knew he was close, but he couldn’t push the need to be inside of you and while he thought he was out of self restraint for the night, he surprised himself in being able to pull you off of him, using the grip on your hair.

“Gotta get inside you, love,” he explained himself as if it wasn’t obvious, helping you to your feet as you refrained from huffing, wiping your mouth and chin of the saliva that had gathered.

You didn’t need him to lead you to his room, grateful it was the first door on the right otherwise you probably would’ve both ended up on the floor, not that it’d be the first time.

You properly unzipped your dress and stepped out of it, discarding it on his floor before sitting back on his bed. Jude followed suit, shirt discarded before he stepped out of his slacks and boxers.

You crawled back on the bed as he moved to hover over you, pushing you down to lay on your back before his lips were on yours once more.

Kissing Jude Bellingham never got old, your hands tangling in his curls as he used his knee to spread your legs apart. He hooked two fingers around your panties and slid them down your frame, practically ripping them off with aggression.

You had no warning before he slid inside of you, easily doing so due to how wet you were, but the stretch was always a shock. Your jaw agape as you moaned into his mouth while you pull a sharp tug on his coiled hair.

“Fuck, y’always wrap round me so fucking well,” Jude hissed, bottoming out and giving you a moment to adjust to his large length.

“Jude, Jude, please—move,” you whimpered, hands moving to grip at his back, back arching as he began to move; thrusting in and out. He wasn’t slow, but you knew he was holding back.

Your eyes watched his intently, his scanning your features and admiring the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“Jude, please,” you repeated, whimpering as you spread your legs a little more, so frantically desperate to feel all of him.

“What? Need more, huh?” Jude asked, the small gold-chain necklace that decorated his neck dangling from his chest and brushing against your chin with every thrust. “Needy little thing,” he grinned, and you could only whine as your eyes fluttered shut momentarily.

Jude’s hand shifted to your thigh, grabbing one of your legs and moving it upwards, pushing your knee towards your chest. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper, and suddenly his thrusts were harsher and quicker.

Your eyes rolled back instantly, a squeal like moan escaping you before you could even try to suppress it, nails dragging down his back as he pounded into you.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you practically chanted as he fucked you, hard. Watching your eyes roll back and jaw go slack only had him motivated, enthusiastic to draw out every possible sound from you.

Jude was relentless, you still couldn’t get used to the stamina of a footballer, how there was never a break in the pace or harshness of his thrusts. No moment to breathe or try to compose yourself, choked out moans almost straining your throat from how often he slammed into you.

“Look at me, baby, please,” Jude pleaded with you, wanting your pretty eyes focused on him. He wasn’t surprised you didn’t listen. At this point, you didn’t really make sense of his words. A habit you seemed to have formed. It wasn’t like you could help it, the way your brain seems to shut off the moment Jude hits that special spot inside of you.

His hand around your throat was enough, eyes fluttering open and he squeezed softly, whimpering as you continued to moan and pant, met with his smirk.

“Fucked dumb already,” Jude boasted while he kept his hand around your throat; not applying much pressure but the feeling of it there alone had your hips spasming momentarily. “So easy for me, baby. Could have you like this all the time.”

You moaned at his words, hearing him loud and clear this time, nodding pathetically; you’d agree with anything he says right now. Anything.

“My pretty girl,” Jude was always quick with the praise after his harsh words, the contrast always welcome as your hands shifted from his back to his biceps. “All mine,” he reiterated.

The possessive tone he found would have you falling into wishful thinking if you possessed the ability to think straight, but thankfully you couldn’t; not when your vision was starting to be replaced with stars as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

His lips caught yours in another kiss, tongues clashing as you moaned into each other's mouths—his turn to falter as your walls clenched around him, a string of curses being grunted against your lips.

You didn’t need to tell him you were close, no, he knew your body too well; he pushed your leg further back, as if it was possible, you in no place to recognise any slight discomfort when all you could feel was him inside of you, stretching you inside out.

You felt the difference in angle again, nonetheless. Your eyes lolled back once more as you came hard and fast, his name falling from your lips as you did so.

“Good girl baby, cum for me,” Jude encouraged, continuing to thrust into you as you rode out your high, back arching and pushing into him.

Your walls clenched around him once more, and he came almost immediately, releasing inside of you with a loud moan, your sounds intertwining and melting into one another.

Your nails were sure to have left marks along his back, body going limp beneath him as his head dropped to your chest briefly, catching his breath as he too came down from his high.

He wasn’t done though, despite it almost being six in the morning. He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline, the alcohol in his veins or you; but sleep was the last thing on his mind and his best guess was because of the latter.

He was moving again before you could fully recover, the sensitivity causing you to whimper immediately, his thrusts only slow now as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I know you’ve got one more in you,” Jude mumbled, and you wouldn’t ever dare disagree; nodding quickly as he gradually picked up the pace.

Before he got into a rhythm, however, he slid out, sitting back on his knees. You simply looked at him, awaiting his next move.

Jude then manhandled you onto your stomach easily like you were nothing. He tugged your hips up and you followed naturally, back arching as your ass propped in the air, his calloused hands grasping and squeezing the soft flesh before sliding back inside of you.

The way he contorted you into another position had you moaning out loudly, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as Jude found the pace he’d previously possessed.

Your whole body jolted with every thrust, face gradually pushing into the covers, moans muffled as your back arched further.

He didn’t like not hearing you though, obsessed with the way you’d moan and borderline scream his name. He flew into action by grabbing your hair and pulling so your head was lifted, which caused a loud whine to escape you on cue.

“So fucking good, y’take me so well,” Jude grunted his praise. With his hips slamming into yours, you couldn’t form words, only replying in little whines and whimpers, choked out moans as your body became overstimulated.

Jude knew your limits though, and knew how far he could push you. his hand snaking around your waist to find your clit, and rubbing circles on your sensitive bud had your body shaking immediately.

“Fuck! Jude, oh my God,” you practically cried out, unable to do anything but take all he was giving you, hand tangled in your hair still keeping you in place as he pounded in you.

“Take it love, know you can,” he grunted; fingers speeding up. He was obsessed with the way your thighs spasmed, your walls clenched around him and your hand reached back to try to grip his wrist.

You came again, unable to give warning as your eyes watered and vision spotted white from the mere overstimulation.

“Ah, there you go, good girl, so so good, could watch you come undone my cock every day,” Jude talked you through it, hips still moving relentlessly as he let go of your hair, your front half falling back into the mattress. Both of his hands gripped your hips now as he chased his own high.

You whimpered as he fucked you through your high, and when he came inside you again you swear it all became a blur, trying to recover from your back-to-back orgasms.

Jude slid out of you and rolled off of you after he caught his breath, much quicker than you. His hand delicately pushing some of your hair back had your head tilting to face him, a lazy smile grazing your features.

“You're incredible,” Jude mumbled, admiring you quietly; and if you weren’t exhausted you would’ve laughed at him.

“Shut the hell up.” you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut, legs still shaking as Jude rolled his eyes. There was a stupid smile that graced his delicate features still.

“No running out of me again, yeah?” Jude hummed and slithered an arm to wrap around your frame, easily pulling you into his chest. You should’ve been alarmed, gone into self-preservation mode and pushed away. But couldn’t, preferring to simply accept his embrace that you’d always crave, head finding a spot on his toned chest.

“Don’t think I could if I tried,” you chuckled, not sure your legs would hold your weight if you tried to stand, let alone walk.

“Yeah good. That was the whole point,” Jude scoffed playfully, fingers dancing up and down the side of your arm, gaze fixated on you below him. You laughed softly, knowing this conversation needed to be addressed properly. That would wait until the morning, or well, maybe early afternoon in this case—when you wake up, you’ll be met with that sinking feeling again. The one where you’ll feel the need to flee, to escape him and the domesticated side you so badly wanted to yourself.

But you’d settle for this for now, just like Jude would settle for you believing this was the most he could offer. Considering you can never really say goodbye to Jude, huh?

© SINFULPETAL. // all rights reserved. do not copy or repost any original content from this blog.

tags: @sophiaehernandez, @wehatesophia, @ronanpakes0, @nessalvswrld, @writtenbylolo, @shuzcis, @djovulating, @dollettetimes, @yunakwi, @frenchaurora, @dianazyb

bk! ohyul: what started as an accidentally forgetting to pull out on time became a habit he's become obsessed with repeating. maybe it’s his poorly veiled possessiveness that shows up in these moments. the idea that it’s his come filling you up and no one else’s.

bk! ohyul: who would lazily use the tip of his dick to spread it inside you. an oddly fascinating view. there’s the thrill of pushing back the excess cum straight into you. letting it coat your walls. letting it drip down your thighs. he'd use his fingers sometimes too. and watch the way you'd squirm at the sticky sensation. sensitive from the overuse.

bk! ohyul: who won’t even completely remove your panties but rather prefers you have them on. just pushed to your side so his releases lands on them and he can store it to future memory. sort of like a token. he'd buy you extra pairs just to get another chance to ruin them

bk! ohyul: who switches position just to see his cum run down your thighs. like when you're laying on your back, your hips hoisted against his thigh and he's using his strength to lock your waist in place. he drills into you in precise points and your body reacts equally.

when you'd get shy as youd sometimes do. his stare too intense. a pillow thrown over your face so you can hide just for a moment. but ohyul hates that more than anything. he wants to see you. wants to watch both sets of your lips .

bk! ohyul: who makes it his mission to not come before you do. he's done it once before and hated it. of course he'd always make sure you get your own release if it happens.

he knows how to pull it out of you easier. knows that you get a thrill from having him biting the soft skin below your jaw, just above your collarbone. how you clench automatically when his teeth indents on your skin. the way you'd whine out the longest moan and he'd smile in between the bites.

bk! ohyul: who doesn't really like the idea of being a parent right now. when you're both so young and have goals for your careers. really it's the intimacy of it all. how he'll sneak in a quickie at events and him knowing that you're sitting with his loads between your thighs as you greet his friends politely.

that sort of feeling rather than the physical act of conceiving a baby.

Ohyul looked down at you, a amused smile playing on his lips as he took a sip of his drink.

"Truth or Dare? What are we, twelve?"

"Hey, don't knock the classics." Ryul chimed in, suddenly sitting up straight with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I'm down. You scared, Ohyul?"

"Never." Ohyul chuckled, setting his glass down. "Fine. Let's do it."

The game started off innocent enough. Ryul was forced to eat a slice of pizza with a ridiculous amount of hot sauce, and you had to confess the most embarrassing thing you'd ever bought online. Ohyul took a few truths, answering them with his usual unshakeable confidence. It was fun and loud.

Until the bottle spun and landed dead center on Ohyul again.

"Alright, big guy." Ryul grinned, rubbing his hands together like a villain.

"Truth or dare?"

Ohyul leaned back the sofa, entirely unbothered.

"Dare."

Ryul’s eyes darted between you and Ohyul. Ryul was the only person in the world who knew about the massive, agonizing crush you had been harboring for Ohyul for the past two years. You caught look on Ryul's face a second too late.

"I dare you..." Ryul said, his voice dropping into a purely chaotic tone. "to dry hump y/n for a full minute."

Your stomach violently dropped. Your face flushed a deep blush.

"Ryul! No way! Change it. What the fuck??" you blurted out immediately, your heart hammering against your ribs.

You frantically looked at Ohyul, terrified of seeing disgust or awkwardness on his face. The last thing you wanted was to force him into something sexual with you, especially when he didn't know your true feelings.

"Ohyul you don't have to do that. Ryul is being an idiot. Seriously, just take a penalty or something. I extremely decline."

"Oh, come on, don't be a buzzkill." Ryul laughed.

"A dare is a dare!"

"No Ryul, shut the fuck up. I'm not making him uncomfortable."

You snapped, your anxiety spiking. You kept your eyes averted from Ohyul, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"Hey."

Ohyul’s deep voice cut through the bickering. You finally risked a glance up at him. He wasn't grimacing. In fact, his dark eyes were intensely focused on you, and that lazy smile was entirely gone, replaced by a unreadable expression.

"Who said I was uncomfortable?" Ohyul murmured.

Before you could even process the words, Ohyul slid off the couch. He moved with a quiet movement that made your breath hitch. He caught your ankles, pulling you flat onto the carpet in one smooth motion, and crawled right over you.

"O-Ohyul—" you gasped, your hands instinctively coming up to rest against his broad chest.

He didn't hesitate. Ohyul settled his heavy weight directly between your thighs. The sheer size of him completely pinned you down. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your burning cheeks. Then, he locked his hips flush against yours.

Even through his jeans and your shorts, you could feel the thick ridge of his hard cock pressing heavily against your pussy.

"Ryul, start the timer." Ohyul commanded, still keeping the eye contact. His voice dropping thick with a sudden, dark heat.

Ohyul didn't wait. He gripped your waist firmly, his large hands digging into your hips, and began to grind. He rolled his pelvis against yours in a slow, deliberate circle. The friction was instant and overwhelming. A soft, involuntary whimper caught in your throat, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his shirt.

He knew exactly what he was doing. With every slow, rolling push of his hips, he pressed his hardness right against your aching center. He leaned down lower, his lips brushing and biting against your earlobe.

"Relax baby" he whispered, a low groan vibrating in his chest as he rolled his hips harder against you, making your legs instinctively wrap slightly tighter around his waist. "Just a game, right?"

You couldn't even answer. Your mind was completely short circuiting from the intense heat pooling deep in your stomach, completely helpless under the ruthless rhythm of his body moving over yours.

Ohyul didn't wait for Ryul to even find a timer. The moment his hips locked against yours, any semblance of a joke completely vanished from his expression. His dark eyes burned with an intense, raw hunger that made your breath trap in your throat. He had been waiting for an excuse like this for an agonizingly long time, and he wasn't going to waste a single second of it.

"W-wait—" your voice shook, but the word was instantly cut off.

He slammed his hips forward with desperate force, burying his hardness deep into you through the layers of your clothes. A gasp tore from your lips. Ohyul groaned heavily, a sound of unadulterated relief, as if he had been starving and you were finally right in front of him.

"God you have no idea, baby" he growled, his voice thick and rough as he completely abandoned the slow pace.

He pinned your wrists aggressively above your head, his large hand locking them to the carpet, while his other hand dug ruthlessly into your hip. He began to grind against yours in fast, heavy circles. The hard length of his erect cock rolled hard over your pussy lips, crushing against your swollen clit with every desperate push of his weight.

You completely lost your mind. The sheer eagerness in his movements, the frantic heat radiating off his body, and the realization that he wanted this just as badly as you did sent a shockwave of pure electricity straight to your core. Your hips instinctively tilted up to meet his, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to lock him flush against you.

"Ohyul—" you whimpered, your head tossing back against the floor.

"fuck, you're so hot" he panted, his breath ragged and wild against your neck.

He didn't care that Ryul was in the room, he didn't care about anything but the intense friction of your bodies rubbing together. He accelerated the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, and completely relentless, his heavy denim grinding mercilessly against your soaking wet shorts.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips biting and sucking at your sensitive skin while his hips slammed into yours with a desperate rhythm. He was panting like an animal, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back from tearing your clothes off right then and there.

Every rolling slam of his crotch against yours was fueled by months of repressed desire, and the wet heat building between your thighs was driving him completely over the edge.

"I've been dreaming about this every single night"

Ohyul confessed in a breathless, undone rasp, his hips grinding fiercely against you one last time as a tight, violent wave of pleasure started to ripple through your lower body.

The sixty seconds Ryul had joked about had long since bled into complete reality. Ohyul didn't care about the timer. He didn't care about anything but the agonizingly perfect fit of your body beneath his.

His hand released your wrists, but you didn't pull away. Instead, your arms immediately flew around his neck, your fingers clawing desperately into his hair, pulling him down into you. Ohyul let out a desperate sound against your mouth, finally dropping his lips onto yours in a messy and bruising kiss.

His tongue invaded your mouth with the exact same frantic energy as his hips, his teeth scraping against yours as his crotch relentlessly move fast against your aching pussy. Completely soaked through with the wetness pooling between your thighs.

"Ohyul... please... I need you inside me." you sobbed into his mouth, completely unbothered by Ryul’s stunned silence somewhere across the room. You were completely undone, your internal muscles spasming violently from the sheer intensity of the dry humping.

"Ryul get the fuck out." Ohyul growled, never slowing his brutal pace for a single second. His voice was raw and completely animalistic as his pelvis slammed hard into yours, crushing your clit under his massive weight.

You heard the panicked, hurried scramble of footsteps and the front door slamming shut, but your mind was already entirely gone.

The moment the lock clicked, Ohyul reached down with a trembling urgency. He tore at the button of your shorts, ripping them down past your hips along with your panties, exposing your soaking swollen pussy to the cool air for only a fraction of a second. In the same breath, he shoved his own pants down, his seven inci hard penis springing free, fully engorged and dripping with precum.

He didn't give you a moment to adjust. He gripped both of your thighs, shoving them wide apart, and with one agonizingly deep thrust, he buried his entire length into your tight warmth.

A piercing scream of pure pleasure tore from your throat as you were stretched completely open. Ohyul’s head rolled back, a guttural, undone groan tearing from his chest as your tight walls immediately clamped down around his thick shaft like a vice.

"Ah, fuck! You're so tight—so wet." he gasped, his eyes wild and bloodshot as he looked down at you.

He didn't waste another second. He began to pound into you with relentless pace. The sound of his pelvis slapping violently against your bare ass echoed loudly through the empty apartment. Every single thrust was deep and desperate, driven by years of pent up craving. He was hitting your cervix with every slam, his large hands digging into your hips so hard they were going to leave bruises.

You completely broke. Your legs locked around his back, your toes curling as a violent, shattering orgasm tore through your body, your pussy pulsing and squeezing his cock in intense, rhythmic waves.

The crushing tightness of your climax pushed Ohyul completely past his breaking point. He let out a loud whine, driving his hips forward three more times with speed before burying himself as deep as he could possibly go. His entire body locked up, muscles straining and trembling as he shot a hot load of semen thick and deep into your climaxing walls.

The heavy silence in the apartment didn't last long. Just as your breathing began to slow, a sudden, sharp knock rattled the front door.

"My turn next." Ryul’s muffled voice called out from the hallway, laced with an eager, strained impatience.

You froze, your naked body still trembling and coated in Ohyul's heat. You looked up at Ohyul, expecting him to be furious, but the lazy, dominant smirk returned to his lips.

His dark eyes flashed with a sudden, wicked idea. He loved showing you off, and knowing Ryul had been listening had only fueled his possessive streak.

Ohyul stood up, entirely unbothered by his nakedness, and walked over to unlock the door.

The moment the door swung open, Ryul practically stumbled inside. His eyes went wide, instantly locking onto your flushed, exposed body sprawled on the floor, your thighs still slick and dripping with Ohyul's thick semen. Ryul swallowed hard, his own trousers visibly tented from how hard he was.

"Step inside." Ohyul commanded, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. He pointed a finger downward, establishing the rules immediately.

"You want a taste? Fine. But you only lick her pussy. Nothing else. You don't touch her anywhere else and you don't get to slide inside. She's mine."

Ryul didn't hesitate for a single fraction of a second. He dropped straight to his knees, crawling frantically between your wide spread legs. The sheer sight of him kneeling there, completely desperate for your scraps, sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to your core.

Ryul buried his face directly into your soaking wet folds. His tongue lashed out, hot and ravenous, lapping up the mixture of your arousal and Ohyul’s warm cream.

He groaned against your skin, his tongue swirling ruthlessly over your cum clit. You let out a loud piercing gasp, your hips instinctively twitching upward as the wet friction threatened to push you right back over the edge.

Ohyul stood right over the two of you, watching with a satisfied expression, his large hand resting heavily on his own hip.

Overwhelmed by the taste of you, Ryul completely lost his head. He wanted more. He began to crawl up your body, his hands planted on the carpet on either side of your shoulders as he leaned down, aiming straight for your swollen, breathless lips to steal a kiss.

Before their lips could even brush, Ohyul’s hand shot forward like lightning.

He fisted his fingers aggressively into the back of Ryul’s hair, violently wrenching his head backward. Ryul’s neck arched back painfully, his face pulled completely away from yours.

A sharp, choked moan tore from Ryul’s throat at the sudden, rough restriction.

"I told you." Ohyul growled down at him, his grip tightening ruthlessly in Ryul's hair, forcing him to look up into his dominant glare.

"Her mouth belongs to me. Get back down between her legs and do what you were permitted to do."

Ryul panted, a dark flush covering his own face as he nodded frantically under Ohyul’s grip, completely submissive to the older man's rules.

The moment Ohyul released his hair, Ryul dropped straight back down between your thighs, burying his face into your pussy with even more frantic, desperate hunger than before.

Ryul didn't need to be told twice. Driven by the sharp reprimand and the intoxicating taste of you, his tongue became absolutely relentless. He buried his face deeper into your soaking wet warmth, his nose pressing hard against your sensitive skin as his tongue lashed back and forth over your swollen, pulsing clit.

He lapped at you with a rhythmic hunger, drinking in the slick mixture of your juices and Ohyul’s cooling semen. Every stroke of his tongue was heavy and wet, sending localized shocks of pure electricity straight to your brain.

"Ah... Ryul, please—" you cried out, your fingers clawing at the carpet, your hips bucking up against his face.

Ohyul stood right above you, watching the entire spectacle with a dark gaze. He reached down, his large hand wrapping around the back of your neck, his thumb lightly pressing against your throat to ground you through the overwhelming pleasure.

"Look at him princess." Ohyul commanded, his deep voice vibrating in the room. "Look at how desperate he is to taste my mess inside you."

You opened your eyes, your vision blurred with tears of pure arousal. You looked down at Ryul, whose face was completely smeared with your wetness. The taboo sight of your best friend devouring you under the gaze of your crush wound the tension in your stomach to a tight, unbearable knot.

Ryul increased the speed, his tongue swirling ruthlessly around your clit while his fingers subtly reached up to grip your thighs, keeping you locked in place. The stimulation was too much. Your internal muscles contracted, tightening in sudden, sharp waves.

"Ohyul! I'm coming again—fuck" you screamed, your head tossing back against the floor.

Your pussy clamped down, shuddering second orgasm. Ryul didn't stop, he sucked your clit deep into his mouth right as you peaked, lapping frantically to catch every drop of your cum.

The sight and sound of you breaking for the second time completely pushed Ryul over the edge. He was still entirely restricted by Ohyul’s rules, he couldn't touch you with his hands, and he couldn't take his clothes off. The sheer desperation of it made him lose his mind.

Ryul began to aggressively hump himself against the hard floor and his own tight clothes. The length of his erect cock was trapped behind his heavy denim, and he ground his crotch into his pants with a frantic, breathless urgency.

"Ah... fuck, Ohyul... she's so tight." Ryul groaned, imagining his cock inside you. His voice completely undone, cracking with the strain. He kept his face buried against your inner thigh, inhaling your scent as his hips jerked forward in fast, desperate thrusts against his own zipper.

The friction of his underwear and denim rubbing mercilessly against his tip was overwhelming. He panted like an animal, his shoulders shaking as he ground his pelvis in brutal circles, trying to find release through the agonizing barrier of his clothes.

"Go on," Ohyul growled down at him, his voice rough with amusement and dominance. "Cum for her Ryul. Ruin your clothes like the desperate dog you are."

That was the final trigger. With a loud cry, Ryul’s body went completely rigid. His hips slammed violently forward against his pants one last time as his orgasm hit him like a train.

He let out a long desperate moan, his eyes rolling back as a thick load of semen shot repeatedly inside his underwear, completely soaking through his boxers and staining the inside of his pants with a trapped wetness.

He collapsed forward, his forehead resting against your thigh, chest heaving in absolute exhaustion as the heavy, hot mess pooled inside his clothes.

The silence returned to the room, broken only by the sound of three ragged, overlapping breath patterns. Ryul lay completely spent between your legs, his forehead pressed against your inner thigh as the hot mess of his release began to cool inside his ruined jeans.

Ohyul looked down at the two of you, a deeply satisfied smile spreading across his face. The absolute dominance of the situation, having his best friend completely submissive at his feet, and you thoroughly used and trembling from multiple orgasms had his heart hammering a victorious rhythm against his ribs.

He stepped forward, his bare foot nudging Ryul’s shoulder.

"Alright. Time's up. Get out of here puppy" he commanded smoothly.

Ryul let out a low groan, slowly lifting his head. His lips were still shiny with your wetness and his face was bluch red.

He looked up at Ohyul, then down at you, a dazed, completely ruined expression in his eyes. He dragged himself backward, crawling out from between your thighs, the heavy dampness in the front of his pants making him move awkwardly.

He didn't even try to fix his clothes, he just slumped against the base of the sofa, trying to catch his breath.

Ohyul turned his full attention back to you. He knelt beside your trembling body, his warm hands sliding under your lower back and thighs. With one effortless lift, he scooped your naked body up into his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

"Ohyul..." you whimpered, your head falling heavily onto his shoulder, your muscles completely like jelly.

"I've got you baby" he murmured, his deep voice incredibly soft now, a sharp contrast to the brutal dominance from moments before. He carried you away from the mess in the living room, completely ignoring Ryul and walked into his bedroom.

He laid you gently in the center of his king sized bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against your overheated, sweat skin. Ohyul didn't immediately leave. He slid onto the mattress beside you, pulling the heavy comforter up to your shoulders to shield you from the draft, before wrapping his massive arm around your waist and pulling your back tightly against his chest.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply. "You were perfect and you did a good job, I'm proud of you so much"

He whispered, his lips brushing your skin as his fingers began to trace soothing circles over your stomach, grounding you completely as the final waves of adrenaline began to fade.

Ohyul reached over to the nightstand and pulled a few thick tissues from the box. Gently, he wiped away the remaining traces of wetness from your inner thighs, his touch careful and entirely focused on making you comfortable.

He tossed the tissues into the trash, then pulled the heavy duvet over your shoulders, tucking you in safely before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"Just rest, princess." he murmured, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Before you could fully drift off, the bedroom door creaked open. Ryul stood in the doorway, shifting his weight from foot to foot. All the desperate energy from earlier was completely gone, replaced by a wide eyed look.

He looked like an innocent boy who hadn't just ruined his own pants in the living room moments before.

"Um... Guys?" Ryul mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, his voice quiet.

"Can I sleep in here with you guys tonight? The couch is kind of cold."

You blinked sleepily from the pillows, looking up at Ohyul to see his reaction.

Ohyul let out a amused huff, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked at his best friend. He could never stay genuinely harsh with Ryul for long after the dominance had been established.

"You can stay." Ohyul said, his tone authoritative but relaxed. "But you're not bringing that mess into my bed. Go change your clothes first."

Ryul’s face lit up with an instant, grateful grin. "Right! Changing right now!" he chirped, turning on his heel and hurrying down the hall to grab a pair of clean sweatpants from the guest room.

A few minutes later, the mattress dipped as a freshly changed, clean scented Ryul carefully slid under the duvet on your other side.

The contrast was almost funny and adorable. He settled in with the quiet innocence of a child, curling up close to you but keeping his hands respectfully to himself.

Ohyul wrapped his large arm securely around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest, while Ryul rested his head near your shoulder. Tangled securely between the two of them, the intense heat of the night finally melted into a peaceful sleep.

"보셨나요? Huh?" (Did you see?) Han-rim said pointing towards the TV, nudging Bong Geun-dae to show the news.

"Shin Ji-young, a 17-year-old high school girl from South Fork School of Busanjin district, has fled from the scene after committing the murder of her homeroom teacher the previous night. The police are on their search and will catch the murderer soon. Though a minor, she will be served as per her deed. And the reason is yet to be known."

"What kind of a student does that?" Shouted Han-rim, pressed her lips tightly as if she was about to throw curse words at the girl. Both the Minister and Hwa-jin exchanged looks, a knowing glance at what actions should be taken for this case. However, without a formal complaint being filed by that school or anyone related to her, they won't be able to take any action..yet.

This news spread like wildfire, as the teacher who was murdered was allegedly related to a congressman of the opposing party. They questioned Minister Choi as to why the investigation hasn't been started. It irked the poor minister and he refused to answer the media as of now. A few times passed until they received this mail, a very comprehensive one. Bong Geun-dae had informed them. It read-

[ Hello sir,

I am writing this mail in concern of my missing friend. Ji-young, has been missing for few days now. Usually, after such incidents with any of our teacher, she doesnt attend school for a day to 2 days maximum but it's been a long time and I even visited her house. She wasn't there either. I don't know exactly what had happened between these two that led to such gruesome act, I just happen to miss my friend. I hope you will find her. That's why I reached out to you.

-Kang Ha-eun ]

"Looks like she has a close friend, and we could get a lot of information about Ji-young from her," Hwa-jin commented. All of them nodded in agreement. Walking up to Han-rim, he patted her shoulder sharply and said, "So, let's begin".

The next day, they packed everything and headed for South Fork School. It was just another busy day at school, with students and teachers bustling around the school in the hallway. Han-rim observed them; nothing looked suspicious among the students, no such life-threatening bullies among them. Hwa-jin spoke to the headmaster about the incident and asked him for the security camera in that area. Weirdly, the head of the school looked a bit uncomfortable sharing the video, but he still shared it with him. "Uh, Sir, don't you have the raw footage?"

"No, sir, unfortunately, it was tampered with the next day. After the footage was saved, someone mishandled the actual footage." "Sabotaging the crime scene? Looks like someone tried to hide something." He reasoned. For a moment, Hwa-jin thought he saw a flicker of guilt hiding behind the headmaster's eyes. Then he quickly said, " Inspector Na, it's obvious that the insolent girl did this." Hwa-jin didn't say much and simply nodded, leaving his office. 'It's not just a case of murder' He thought out loud.

Meanwhile, the other two tracked down information about the girl and spoke to two or three of her teachers, one of whom was her homeroom teacher. Things didn't quite add up well, although there was one specific piece of information that struck with Han-rim was that she was a violent kid from a very young age, maybe because her father was abusive. Her mother had died, quite truthfully, she had seen her mother die. She was not necessarily violent towards her friend or surroundings, but more towards herself. She usually showed an aggressive, agitated nature while talking to her peers, but never quite harmed them. This was her first time doing so, but it mostly felt like a pent-up anger toward her mathematics teacher, Park Seo-Joon. Her homeroom teacher had mentioned all this information about her. Han-rim and Bong Geun-Dae took the file containing her report card, medical certificate, and other information to Hwa-jin. He was quietly loitering outside, in the hallway, looking at students studying and other activities being done by others. "So, anything special?" The senior inspector questions. "Sir, this case looks a bit weird, as in, why would a girl of high grades suddenly start scoring less, and that too in the maths subject. One particular subject. The teachers gave us all the information yet, their expression said otherwise."

Hwa-jin stayed quiet; he didn't say anything until Bong Geun-Dae shrieked out. Both of them got scared and jumped up, "씨발 (fuck)- Han-rim exclaimed, "What's wrong with you?" With trembling hands, he said, "Look, another murder, same type." All of them hovered over the phone to check the news; it was true. Just a few kilometres from here, at a pub, the murder occurred. The scratch marks, stab all the same. Hwa-jin straightened up and said, "Well, we don't have any time to waste. We need to catch her, or she might as well eat up a few more people." All of them left for the club. They looked around for any clue, the CCTV footage to check her whereabouts, and the man she killed. They asked the owner if he knew the man. "Yes, he was a regular and was there just like another night. Our bartender did see him enter our private room, upstairs with a girl, but he thought it was his date. We didn't expect him to end up like this." They questioned whether any worker saw him as a threat to that girl or was harassing her. One of the waiters there replied, "No, it looked quite the contrary; she was smiling and had her arms wrapped around his." All three of them, dead tired, returned to the headquarters with little to no clue. She has again vanished and can't be traced. They even looked around her neighbour; no one had seen her. At night, looking through her files, Han-rim suddenly stood up from her seat. "We might know where she would be, day after tomorrow?" Hwa-jin yawned, already deprived of sleep, "How?"

"In her middle school diary, she has written that on 22nd June is her Dog's mango birthday. And every year, she brings him his favourite flower to his kennel. So, she will visit that." "How can you be so sure? She knows everyone is looking for her." Bong-Geun Dae questioned. "Yes, you are correct, she might be cautious, but she will be there, even for a while. It's her pet, and people are really attached to their pet, and people like her who have no one to rely on, they consider their pet as their best friend. She wouldn't miss it for the world. She is still a child afterall."

"Are you sympathizing with a killer?" Hwa-jin chipped up, his tone a bit sharper than usual. Han-rim saw that stern look lingering in his eyes, despite being tired, she straightened up and said," NO, I just feel whatever she did, there was a reason. A reason that can be judged upon, properly."

"So, I kind of found something-" Bong Geun Dae spoke up, "so this Congressman Mr. Park Dong-Ho is Seo-joon's Uncle. He has a list of sexual assault cases charged. But he got bail every time. And coincidentally, the guy at the pub was his driver. There are paparazzi photos of him in the car with that guy in the driver's seat."

Han-rim and Hwa-jin exchanged a knowing look," Well, we will pay Mr. Park a visit tomorrow then."

Next Day

"this Motherfucker bitch, how did she escape again. What are you guys doing? 6 armed men and you can't find her?" Dong-Ho spat out, his pale face now red with anger as he cussed out the police officers in charge of duty. He dismissed them quickly, "Fuck, this bitch, shouldn't have let her out for that test. Should have kept her caged in the box, that bitch should have died like her mom." He angrily mumbled, sitting down in the chair in his office. Suddenly, the door opened, revealing the three officers in his office. Dong-Ho looked up and gave them a smug smile, "What brings you here, Officer Na, unless you caught that bi-, girl. I am not hearing from any of you. She murdered my nephew," Spoke the old man. "We are trying to catch her, sir," Hwa-jin spoke, his voice dripping with extra sweetness and with sincerity. Sometimes, it made Han-rim wonder if he took acting classes besides military training to help him mask his emotions so perfectly. Hwa-jin paused, then continued," In fact, we were wondering if you could assist us in catching her tomorrow. It will be a great, satisfactory job; it may help you gain some publicity."

Congressman, being the dumb guy he was, quickly agreed to it, without thinking of the consequences. He agreed, and it made all three of them grin in satisfaction. Yesterday, the entire night, they looked for the names of the victims who charged him with sexual assault. Sadly, most of them were either missing or killed themselves. Only two of them were alive and decided to pay a visit, later today.

The final day - Justice is served?

Ji-young's pov

It is raining heavily today, and it is Mango's birthday too. My mango turned 15 today, but I am too scared to pay him a visit. What if the police are there? Or those guys? Did they destroy my Mango's house, too? I'd kill them if they touched it. I opened my phone, which is my other phone, so that they wouldn't track it. I saw the area around my house; it looked empty, no police around. No one is around, Mango's kennel is the same and a little bit dusty. Maybe I can pay him a quick visit. The sharp drop of rain on my skin hurt my cut marks; it still looked so sore and bad. I used to be so pretty, but they ruined me. My face, my body. These meds help me reduce the pain, but it makes me so angry, too.

I shouldn't be too late, or someone might just catch me. I grabbed the Jasmine flowers from the nearby lake, and carefully walked towards my house, it was a quiet neighbourhood, and mostly during early mornings, it's empty and quiet, so I can access my place early. I saw his kennel and sat down quietly, "Hi, Mango, Happy Birthday, Baby. I miss you so much. You were the best thing in this whole world, well, you still are. I am sorry I can't be here for a long time. I am on a run, but when I find a place to stay, I will take you with me."

I am usually quite strong, but I caught myself crying today, right now. It didn't matter; I was alone, so I could cry. "I hoped for a better world and a better life than what my parents lived. But it's just worse than them, I wish I could approach the ERPB regarding this-

"Who said you couldn't?"

-

Third Person POV

"Are you sure, Han-rim, she will be there right now?" Hwa-jin commented as he drove the SUV with Bong Geun Dae and Mr. Park in the back seat. "Yes, it's early morning, and it would be quiet in the neighbourhood so she can access her place right now. Although midnight could have been a more decent choice, it wouldn't be her dog's birthday when midnight strikes."

"you're so smart..." Bong Geun-Dae commented, which led to Hwa-Jin rolling his eyes. He sped up the car and parked at a distance from the neighbour. Hwa-jin got out and asked them to stay back, "You, sure you will be alright?" Han-rim mocked.

He simply ignored and went towards her house. Rest three of them watched through the camera they had placed yesterday in her backyard. Hwa-jin quietly saw her, praying and talking to herself. He heard her say about ERPB and couldn't help but speak up.

This alerted Ji-young, she sprinted up and took out the blades from her pocket. Hwa-jin wouldn't admit it loudly, but her self defence tactic, impressed him a bit. He now could see her properly, her face looked nothing like the passport size photo the school had of her. One of her eyes looked damaged, her lips cut, one of the cheek slashed, marks all over her hand and parts of her neck. She looked so bruised. Before saying anything, he started to walk towards her. "Don't- I will kill you." She warned, with her cracked voice and, her hands trembling.

"Look, she is trying to hurt Hwa-jin," Exclaimed the old man from the car as he sipped his juice casually. "He knows what he is doing," Commented Han-rim with a stern and disgusted voice.

Hwa-jin raised his hands in surrender, "I am only here to talk and know about your situation. You said you wanted help. We are here to help. We want to hear your side of the story, too." She lowered her blades a bit, still holding them firmly. Can she trust him? she thought. She knew him. She followed him for months and saw videos of him on Zeetube and learned a few moves during a fight from that. She knew what he did with other kids was for their betterment, but this time, is he really going to? When the entire city is against her.

Watching her doubtful face, he said, " You can't run; the area is surrounded by ERPB. You will only end up hurting yourself, so you should come with us, and we can talk." This time, she lowered her blades and followed him outside the house. All three of them got out of the car, too. Looking at Ji-young, Dong-ho shouted, "Catch that bitch, you insolent girl-" Han-rim slapped him to be quiet.

The moment Ji-young heard his voice, she let out a shriek, "YOU CALLED HIM?!- She shouted at Hwa-jin, "HOW DARE YOU?! YOU SAID WE WILL TALK. BUT YOU ARE SENDING ME BACK TO HIM! HOW DARE YOU, FUCK!!! She shouted so loudly that at 6am most of the neighbours would have now woken up by the noise. Ji-young, out of nowhere, leaped towards Hwa-jin to hit him. Quickly, Han-rim ran and held Ji-young tightly. Ji-young quickly kicked her thigh from the front and stood afar. It angered Han-rim; she leaped forward to throw a punch at Ji-young, but she dodged it.

Amidst that, the congressman walked hurriedly towards ji young and tried to hold her by her wrist. But failed, as Hwa-jin held his arm so tightly that it might just twist his muscle, "Don't Touch." He warned, staring dead into his eyes. Meanwhile, Ji-young searched for her weapons. She caught hold of the dagger and leaped forward at Dong-ho, but Han-rim caught her. "Don't, not now."

Helplessly, Ji-young fell to the ground, now fully sobbing in front of them. She held onto Han-rim's pants tightly and whispered, "Help me, please," as she gasped for air. Han-rim kneeled down and held her sides, her eyes teary too as she said, "We are going to help you, you just have to come with us and talk. We won't send you away anywhere."

They drove in silence and took her to a hospital. Outside the hospital, there was a swarm of people from media. While she was getting treated, they took statements from her. They searched her house for any clue but didn't find any as all of it was in her 2nd phone. Going through her phones, they saw, recording of her saying how they worked together (the teacher, congressman, and the driver.) . Apparently, they had sent other people from Congressman's group to different school to kidnap girls from middle school, highschool and even universities students. They had coaxed the girls into thinking they would get a job as a model or air hostess if they did some simple task, since Park Dong-Ho owned a few percentage of shares of the Airline.

All were lie, they kidnapped them and made them an escort for other rich people from various countries to get paid a significant amount.

"I only became a target because my mother had some issues with them for a very long time. She used to work for Dong-Ho, and when I was 5, he wanted me to be sold to him, and in return, my parents would get a certain sum of money. But my mom refused, so in return, my dad used to beat her every day, and even one day Dong-Ho's men broke into our house and raped her and took photos to threaten her." Ji-young took a deep breath and continued. "Unable to take such a huge load on herself, she hung herself." She stated that the room went quiet, and Han-rim quietly patted her back.

" I was sent to my grandparents' place for years, until I had to come back for my high school. Everything was fine until they showed up again."

"Ji-young." Hwa-jin called out, "You are very brave."

She smiled, after months, she gave out a genuine smile. "Thank you sir."

"and quite strong too," he said while touching his nose, where it looked a bit bruised from that day when she threw him a punch. She gave out a sheepish smile.

-

Weeks went by, and all the subordinates working under Park Dong-ho were arrested, including the old man himself. His house was under search, including the Clubs he owned. Many hidden rooms were found in the clubs and his house, including photos that were too dark to be released to the media. As for Ji-young, she was in a juvenile reformatory facility, and she would be treated by a psychologist to help her. She looked better in the facility as she was put under a rehabilitation centre to help her control her mind and be physically well, too. All of them visited her once a week, and it encouraged her to be better and live better.

"Inspector, thank you." Hwa-jin looked up from the seat they were both sitting. "For what?" "For hearing me out, and not letting me die."

Hwa-jin simply nodded, giving her a warm smile.

-

You were messed up, your hair was in knots.

You looked at your friend through the bathroom mirror.

Her mascara was clumped, forming streaks of black down her cheeks, her dress might as well have been in a fountain from how much alcohol was spilled on it.

A group of girls that you had never seen before huddled around her, offering comforting pats on her back as you rushed and grabbed a hold of her hair while she hunched over the toilet bowl and hurled.

You cringed at the sound, at the smell, at the sight-- everything about it.

One of the girls had asked if she was okay, to which she responded with a drunken sob.

To be frank, you weren't really sure what had happened. She had walked up to you and hurriedly pointed to the bathroom while you were by the island table grabbing another cup of punch.

And now you were here, comforting your dear Ji-na like you had done so many times before.

She sniffled a little bit, before turning to face you.

"I.. I saw him making out with her." She sobs.

You stare at her, the anger obvious on your face. You weren't surprised that her slut of a boyfriend was making out with another girl, in fact, you had tried to tell her that multiple times, even providing evidence of him and another girl having dinner together.

To which you were always met with an "you're just jealous!" or "you don't know anything about us!"

All you could reply with was a sigh. A 'you should've listened' type of sigh.

"Where is he right now?"

"I dunno," Ji-na sniffled, "probably in the pool, still making out with her." She paused for a second, before sobbing again.

The girl behind her handed her a tissue, gently cooing at her in a motherly nature. The others around her seemed to foster the same gentle manner.

It felt like every girl who has stumbled into the bathroom, checked to see if Ji-na was doing alright.

These were the moments you really appreciated when it came to having friendships with other girls. There was a sort of connection and fondness of each other that men never seemed to have.

"Someone sober her up please, I need to go take care of that man." You stood up and walked to the door, earning a few 'beat his ass!' and 'he fumbled a bad bitch.'

You walked around the ridiculously big mansion that was owned by whichever rich kid that was hosting the party. Trying to find the pool. You garnered a couple catcalls from the men around you, you always ignored it, as sad as it is, they value a reaction from their harassments.

You always made sure to.. accidentally step on their feet though.

You opened the huge glass door, making your way to the even bigger backyard. You catch Ji-an's boyfriend, Kang-i, leaning on a sun lounge, his new girl straddling him as they were in a deep make out session.

You stormed towards them.

"Hey!" They startled before looking at you. Kang-i immediately shoving her off of his lap.

"y/n!" He says in a frantic daze. "It.. it's not what it looks like!'

"Not what it looks like?" You yell, stepping closer towards him as you back straightens in frustration.

"Your soon to be ex girlfriend is in the bathroom right now, crying over you and your bitch ass!" This a earned a few whispers and 'oooo's from the people around you.

The girl he had shoved stood up, folding her arms against her chest as she glances at you before looking back at him.

"Soon to be ex girlfriend?" She asks.

"It's not.. I didn't--- I don't.." he groans in frustration before letting out a breathy laugh, "she's fucking crazy babe! I don't have a 'soon to be ex girlfriend'." He sputters out in a nervous laugh.

"Oh, so then Ji-an's just nothing to you then?" You say this quieter now, not wanting Ji-an to be known by the crowd around you.

"Ji-an?"

"Who--! I don't even know her--- she's fucking crazy man! She's making shit up." He points at you.

"Oh really?" You say accusingly, "so then you don't know Go-ra? Or Helen? What about Do-il? Young-mi? Eun-bong? Yun-hee? Ha-yoon? Seo-ha?" You dropped your tone so only the three of you could hear. You wanted to embarrass this guy, but you didn't want to drag those other girls down with him.

He let's out another nervous laugh.

"Do they all not know about each other as well? Are you lying to her like how you lied to them?" Your lips were twitching upwards with the way he was shaking in fear.

Not just the fear of losing her, no, she was just another plaything until he gets bored. But the fear of not being able to get any new ones.

The girl that was in front of him was now standing next to you. The same look that was on your face was now on hers.

"I'm leaving, don't talk to me ever again." She says before grabbing her purse and making her way out. You give her a pat on the back as she walks past you, to which she returns.

"Y/n you fucking bitch!" Kang-i shouts, before you knew it, he lunges towards you.

You managed to step away just in time, looking back as he prepares himself for another lunge.

Of course, you dodge it. He was drunk out of his mind and was probably seeing double. He couldn't even guess where you were actually standing.

"You just had to get into my business didn't you?!" He's throwing punches now.

Well, he's trying to, he's not necessarily hitting anything per se. Only the air. You just look at him as you sigh in disappointment. Turning around as you started walking.

Until you felt an arm wrap around your throat.

Shit, now he's headlocking me?

Your reflexes kick in fast, you bit into it as hard as you could. Hearing a loud yell from the man behind you. You turned around to see him clutching his arm in pain. He looked up at you, baring his teeth as he was practically seething with rage.

Fine, if he wanted a fight, then he'll get a fight.

You bring yourself over to him, landing a steady kick by his stomach. He stumbles backwards, while he steadies himself, he swings at you. A swing that you obviously dodge. You grab his arm, twisting it as hard as you could, before punching him right smack on his face.

He collapses on the ground, before throwing up the contents of his stomach.

You send in a final kick to his chin, flying him backwards onto the ground, right next to the puddle of his own vomit.

"Ugh" you cringed as you walked away.

You were stopped by the entrance. One half of the door was closed, and in front of the other half stood a tall figure.

You mutter out an 'excuse me,' looking up when you realised that he wasn't budging.

Geum Seongje.

You've heard about him before, mostly things that were chalked up to being rumours. You knew that he was violent, sociopathic even. People say he has no emotions, others say that he gets off on beating people up.

One thing's for sure though, you didn't want to deal with him right now.

"Excuse me." You repeat, voice stern this time. He just smirks down at you.

"Cool it, killer." He grins, leaning towards you, a cigarette in between his mouth. "That was real sexy, seeing you fight like that." He lets out a mocking laugh.

You just glare up at him, waiting for him to finish so that he could move aside and let you in the house.

"Woah, relax your eyes a bit, they're gonna scare people off."

You don't respond, further intensifying your gaze.

"Not a talker? But you talked so much back there." He laughs again, now he's just being annoying. He pulls away from his cigarette with a smoke.

"I have a feeling I'll be seeing you around."

You bump into his shoulder as you force your way past him.

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That was seven months ago. And see him around you did. You saw him everywhere you fucking went.

"All you're good at is starting fights."

You were leaning against an alleyway, taking a drag from your cigarette.

"And all you're good at is staring at me while I do it." Geum Seongje's voice echoes through the alley as he lands another kick on the guy kneeling in front of him.

"I was here first" you rolled your eyes as the boy cried out in pain.

"Then that's too bad." He smirks.

The guy he was hazing got up from his position on the floor, facing behind him to look right at you. His eyes were covered in snot and his face was full of bruises. You're not sure how long Seongje spent beating this freak up.

"p-please..I'm so sor---"

Another kick lands right at his lower back, sending him back on the floor.

"You should apologise to me you fuck." Seongje spat out, his eyes narrowing in annoyance as he clicks his tongue.

If it was anybody else then you would've helped him, maybe pull Seongje back by his hair and tell him to back off. You've done it before.

But the bruised up bitch he was beating up was the same guy that stole your pack of Marlboro's, so you weren't too concerned about him. Sure, they were only 4,500 Won, but in this economy, you expected yourself to buy things and actually use them.

You flicked your cigarette to the floor, stepping on it before making your way back to the internet cafe. Ignoring the annoyingly playful calls of your name.

You hated Geum Seongje.

Hated hated.

You hated men in general, but this freak. Oh, this freak was the guy that really tested your patience.

Whenever you were unfortunate enough to run into him, he'd be relentless with his (for lack of a better word) bullying. He'd make fun of everything you'd do, every step that you would take-- literally--- he's made fun of the way you walk, the way you talk, even the way you smoke.

By the time you realised that you two frequented the same internet cafe, it was already too late. He'd pull up the chair right beside you while you were focused on your game. And whenever you moved seats, he'd just follow suit.

What's worse is when you'd be so close to winning a match, your aim focusing on your opponent, ready to take the shot, before his hand pops up in front of you, waving it around as he laughs at the "you lose" sign on your computer.

You hoped to god that you could shoot him one day.

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You walked up the stairs to the roof of your cousin's school. You were trying to find him, your father forcing you to go and find his ass since you had a family gathering tonight. You really disliked him, all he watches are red-pilled content on Instagram, reinforcing the same words into your family's household.

He gets it from all the other men in the family probably.

You hear a couple of thuds from the other side of the roof. You opened the door slightly, lowering your eyes as you see the sight in front of you. Once again, Geum Seongje was beating the crap out of some guy.

You just sighed, debating whether or not this dude was worth saving.

You snap out of it once you see Seongje crouch in front of him, saying something about him having sad eyes and wanting to remember it for later.

You open the door fully, storming towards him as you snatch his phone out of his hand.

His head darted at you, a slow grin forming on his face when he slowly realises that it was you.

"Hey there gorgeous." He winks, you sigh again for the hundredth time today. "Don't call me that."

"Sure thing, princess." His eyes drift from your face to the phone in his hand. "Mind giving that back to me? I want to capture a memory."

You narrowed your gaze to the boy sat on the floor behind you, you glance at him, signalling to him that he gets to fuck out of here, he seemingly gets the message as he fumbles up to his feet and run towards the door.

"Aww, what an angel you are." He coos at you mockingly. His eyes wide in excitement. He lifts up an arm to you, palms open.

"You have something that's mine?" He teases you, grin growing wider while he drifts from his phone back to your face. He could feel his pupils dilating as he looks at you.

You really are gorgeous.

"You want your phone?"

He's even more excited now. What are you gonna do? Tell him to beg for it? Maybe force him to a fist fight for it? Oh, he was giddy in anticipation.

You walked to the edge of the rooftop, not giving him a chance to negotiate before you pulled your arm back and chucked his phone to the parking lot of the school.

He smiles, he smiles widely.

"You're a confident one aren't ya'?" He shoves his hands inside his jacket pocket, slowly striding towards you. You return his gaze, not backing down.

"And you're a power hungry insecure freak that gets off on hurting other people."

He laughs, he laughs hard. He likes you already. A young girl like you has the confidence to challenge him? Oh, he's hot already.

He may be a power hungry freak, but so were you. He could see that.

He's keeping an eye on you.

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From then on he'd bother you any chance he'd get.

Usually it would just be a few minutes of annoying banter, other times it would be a fight. Nothing too intense.

You'd be fiddling around with the vending machine by the alley of a bowling place. It was the one where the Union would frequently hold their meetings, you didn't know that.

You were getting annoyed from the stubborn machine, before deciding to just kick the snack down.

You managed to grab a hold of the snack, though as you were holding it, it was snatched out of our hand just as quickly.

You looked at the person who stole it, already guessing the culprit.

"Seongje." You said with malice, wanting to punch the smirk on his face right off.

"Thanks for the food." He laughs. You reach your arm to grab it, before he stopped your wrist with his own.

"I appreciate it," his face is closer to you now, he's leaning down to face you, he was too close for your own comfort.

"Maybe you should just give me your money, so I can buy my own snacks, hm?" He says teasingly, chuckling at the way you were trying to squirm your way out of his grip.

"Let go of me."

"I don't think I will." He wanted to see how you would react. He was really looking at you to hit him, punch him, kick him. He obviously didn't like being beaten up, but if it were you.. he wouldn't mind.

The second your fist met his stomach, his heart churned. Maybe in some twisted obsession, or the need to feel something, or the fact that you were a girl and you were noticeably smaller than him. He could feel his chest swell up with pride.

Pride from what? He wonders that too, maybe the fact that he had already claimed you as his, from the moment he saw you during the party. And that in his mind.

His girl had the confidence to hit him.

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You were slouched down sitting on the ledge of a rooftop. You took a swig from the bottle of soju in your hand.

"Damn Y/n, leave some for the rest of us." You jumped at the sudden voice behind you, nearly startling yourself off the ledge. You whipped your head around almost too quickly.

"What are you doing here Seongje?" You squinted your eyes towards him suspiciously.

"I didn't think you'd be here," he walked lazily towards you, before dropping himself down beside you. "This is where I usually hang out."

The rooftop you were sitting on was of an abandoned building, you suspect maybe an apartment of a firm. You found it last winter while you were running away from a bunch of crepey men who were trying to hit on you in an alleyway. They ultimately decided to ditch chasing after you.

Since then you've been coming back here whenever you had to deal with another handful of annoying boys from your family.

"I didn't know that meant this entire place is yours." You didn't even bother looking at him beside you, gripping the bottle tighter and bringing it to your lips.

He watches you. He watches as your lips pursed over the opening of the bottle, he could feel his tongue come out to lick his own.

He watches you as your hand lowered, signalling to him that you were done. He takes this as an opportunity to swiftly grab the bottle from your hands, chugging down the remains of the alcohol.

You just sigh, the obvious disappointment evident on your face as you stare at him blankly.

You watch as he tosses the bottle to the floor beneath you.

"Strawberry."

You pause, slowly reverting your gaze back to him.

"What?"

"You're wearing strawberry lipgloss, no?"

Your eyes dart around, flustered. Your adams apple bobbing up and down as you swallow down your frustration.

He notices, he smirks, before reaching a hand down his pocket and taking out his pack of cigarettes. He takes one, placing it between his lips, before shoving the box to your hands. He looks at you expectingly.

You take it.

He smiles, his chest is heaving now. He watches you take out your own lighter. He watches you smoke his cigarette. He could still taste the strawberry on his lips. He wanted to taste it again, needs to taste it again.

He watches you exhale the smoke out of your lungs, into the black of the night. You could feel his gaze, you always felt it. Your mind was screaming at you to just get the fuck out of here. To get away from him.

And you do. You push yourself away from the ledge, turning on your heel while you prepare to leave.

"I'll see you." You hear him say.

Sure you will.

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Every time you're sitting in your personal hideout, he'd appear right beside you. He'd bring all sorts of shit that the both of you would chainsmoke.

Today was weed.

The two of you shared a joint as the cloud of cannabis swarmed your head. Your eyes were burning and your mind was elsewhere.

You pass the joint back to him, the both of you sitting in silence with the occasional banter.

He brings it to his lips and lets out a drag. He smacks his lips, pausing for a second, before he gives it back to you.

"Cherry?" He smirks, you were past being flustered anymore.

It was a regular occurrence for him to snatch a cigarette from your lips whenever he would walk past you, bringing to his and then guessing the flavour of lip gloss that you were wearing.

You also found yourself wearing a different flavour every time. Sometimes you'd catch yourself with a cigarette between your lips, unlit. Just in case.

... Just in case? Just in case what? In case he'd come and take it out of your mouth so that he could taste it while locking eyes with you?

You tried to deny any interest in him-- in fact-- you denied any interest with any guy, not wanting to risk being so vulnerable with people known for treating their girlfriends like shit. You've seen your own family, you knew the effects of men that understood their power over their wives.

You felt a finger poke your cheek, you turned to look at him in a haze.

"There she is" he looks at you, a small, lazy grin forming on his lips.

"Will you ever leave me alone?"

He shakes his head, "I'll follow you every where."

You felt your heart stutter. Despite being insanely high, you were lucid enough to compose yourself. Fighting the urge to kiss hi--

To kiss him?? Pull your shit together Y/n.

You couldn't afford having any physical relations with anyone, especially him. The guy known for fucking around with other women.

Get your shit together.

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You've been avoiding him. Not because you just want to be away from him, not because you had to take a moment to contemplate your growing feelings for him.

But because your dad was home. The second he stepped through the front door, you just felt an impending sense of doom.

You father, along with the many other men in your family, doesn't really treat you like a person. They treat you differently, mostly because you were a woman, and you were just expected to act lady-like and feminine.

It angered you how looked down the many women in your family were. The worst part was that they just take it, they don't try to fight back, or take back any dignity of their own that had been stripped away from them.

You were sat on the steps of an alleyway almost half an hour away from your home. You just needed to clear your mind, so you ran.

You ran as far away as you could form the insults that were coming out of your family's mouths. You ran until you found a place where you could be vulnerable. You bury your head to your knees as you let tears spill from your eyes. You refused to show any weakness in front of anyone, especially your friends. You considered yourself as the stronger one. The reasonable one, you didn't want anyone to think that your emotions could cloud your judgement.

But the thing about emotional repression is that eventually, you'll break. You were always cautious whenever you'd feel your chest grow particularly heavier, or when you could feel your body heat up from all the anger you've been swallowing down.

You wiped your tears away the second you heard footsteps approaching you. You didn't have to look and see who it was, you could already tell from the way his shoes hit the ground.

You felt a nudge by your foot. Looking up, you the unmoving features on his face, his usual bored expression evident, but his eyes held a silent soft look.

"Need a smoke?" He lowers his hand, his cigarette resting between his fingers as he crouches down to your level. You look at him, your eyes puffy and red, you stared at it for a second, before taking it.

"Is this why you smoke?" He watches you, the sadness in your eyes never faltering from your face.

"To distract yourself from all the sadness in your life?"

You don't bother to look at him, whatever it was that he was trying to say, you weren't in the mood to deal with it.

"That's why everyone smokes." You exhale. He nods, reverting his gaze to look at nothing in particular.

"How did you find me?" You eventually ask.

"I followed you." This makes you glance up at him, before looking back down on your lap as you scoff, "of course you did."

He leans closer to you, his face only a few metres away, "I heard shouting when I walked past your house, thought you might've ran eventually." How does he know where your house i---

"I ran for my own safety." You muster an eye roll, not wanting to encourage his false assumptions. Well, was it really false though?

"You ran because you didn't want to deal with your shitty life." He quips.

He has some nerve doesn't he.

"As if you're any different." You took another drag from the cigarette, "you deal with it by hurting people."

He laughs this time, "and you deal with it by watching me."

The both of you fell into silence once again, you glance at your watch, sighing when you remembered that you had to go back home eventually. He watches you close your eyes taking another long drag of the tobacco that you were holding.

He stands up

"Wanna go get ramen?"

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You tried your best to ignore Seongje ever since that day. It's been a week, and you hated yourself for showing so much weakness in front of the man you thought as your enemy.

Instead of bumping harsh shoulders with each other when you would pass by, you avoided him entirely. Every corner he was walking in, you'd take the opposite.

He's been noticing it as well. He's not oblivious, he's nothing if not observant, he sees the way your eyes dart around if he stared at you for too long. He noticed when you'd uncomfortably shift in your seat instead of challenging him and returning his stare.

He didn't like this, he didn't like this at all.

Usually he'd get over it, he'd find some other girl to obsess over and forget about you entirely.

But you weren't some girl. He felt something whenever he was with you, maybe frustration that you didn't just take his bullying and instead retaliated.

He could feel his entire body getting hot whenever you looked at him with a playful grin, your eyes essentially telling him to "try me."

And he did, and he loves it. He loves the cat and mouse game between the both of you, only this time you and him were both the cat and the mouse. You were tormenting each other, and he could only assume that you loved the chase as much as he did.

But now you were starting to become like everyone else; scared. Scared of him. Though, perhaps because of something else.

It was night, you slowly walked back home, wanting to prolong the journey because you just really didn't want to go home.

You were focused on the music playing on your headphones, not realising the way Seongje followed suit behind you.

You turned a corner, taking the long way back. You felt your headphones getting shoved down to your shoulders, before you could turn and punch whichever creep did that, you felt your back slam onto the wall of an alley.

"We keep meeting in alleys." You could feel Seongje's breath creeping down your neck.

You shove him off of you, "what the fuck's your problem!?" You shout out, rubbing your shoulders as you glared at him in frustration.

"There's something I wanted to ask you." He says blankly, acting like he didn't just scared the shit out of you.

"Then ask like a regular person you fucking psycho." You shove past him, continuing your way home. You didn't make it too far when he strides in front of you, blocking you from walking any further.

"You would've ran away." He crosses his arms, "speaking of.." He drags you near a wall, a steady hand on your shoulder. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

"You've been avoiding me." He purses his lips, head lowering down to yours. His breath fanning over your neck as he speaks.

"What? I can't be fed up with your annoying shit anymore?" You spat. Your head was dizzy, too many things had happened at home, and at school, and overall in general. You just wanted to collapse on your bed, to be taken care of.

He shakes his head as he chuckles lowly, "no, not you." You roll your eyes.

"Well I'm sorry that I'm not the version of me that you made up in your head, then." You smack his arm off of you.

"I don't care that I've been 'acting different,' or if you don't like how I'm acting just because I'm dealing with shit." You watch as his chest heaves up and down, you can only assume that he was growing angrier the more you spoke.

"Or maybe you think I owe you something just because you found me crying and treated me food." Your voice was growing louder now.

He doesn't speak for a moment, he shifts from one foot to the other, "I think I want you to stop pretending to be so tough."

"You're saying that?" You scoff. pushing yourself off of the wall, groaning when he slams you back. "What do you want, Seongje?" You tell him sternly this time.

"I want you to stop acting like you don't notice the shift between us." He might as well be drilling holes through your skull.

"Us?" You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, "since when has there ever been an us?" You wanted to shut up, you screamed at yourself to stop talking. You didn't want to show him that you cared, that you were as bothered as he was.

"Since the second I saw you beat up that loser during the party." He says, voice dropping this time, there's a certain gentleness in the way he said it.

His eyes never left yours. Your shoulder raised with every breath that you took, you could hear your own heartbeat pounding through your ears.

"And I want you to stop acting like you care." You're not sure why you said that. Your interactions with him barely showed any care.

He'd threaten other guys to stay away from you was it. Though you could just chalk it up to his possessiveness and need for control over care.

"Would it be so bad if I did?" He breathes out, it was your turn to laugh now. He's not the type of person to give a fuck about someone else. Especially another woman, guys like him only see women as a game to win. Though, you guess he's not like every guy.

"You don't know how to care." You step closer to him, watching him take another step back, "no one has ever cared about you, so you don't know how to replicate it." Your cheeks tugged into a smirk.

"You like the thrill of arguing with me, you confuse fear with care." You could tell your words were ticking him off. You don't know why you've decided to piss him off, rather than just running back home.

"I do, I really do." He looks back to you, "but I also like how, compared to everyone else, I'm the only guy who has ever seen you as an equal."

You froze. He was right. You hated him, you hated how he treated you like an obstacle, but he treats everyone the same way. He doesn't see you any less just because of the one thing you can't control. He bothers you like he'd do anyone else.

You sigh deeply. "I really wish I had never met you."

His jaw twitches, teeth clenching while you see his eyes darken further. "Try again?" He steps closer to you now, his body might as well be pressed right against yours with how close it was. His face stopping right in front of yours.

"I wish" you grit through your teeth, "I had never met you." I wish you didn't make me feel so vulnerable.

His hand drift to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there. His fingers slowly caressing the nape of your neck. Your breath hitched, you could feel yourself heating up.

"Even when you're cornered like this, you really think you can challenge me, huh?" His other hand comes up to pat your cheek. His eyes widen, he smiles, a slow, wide smile. Baring his teeth while he looks down at you.

"You piss me off." You say plainly, trying to hide the way your thighs wanted to clench.

He laughs again, "you're really begging for it, huh?" He's way closer than before, your mind screamed at you to punch him in the face and run your ass out of there. But a part of you didn't want to. You wanted him to prove to you how much he wants you. You want to be wanted.

"You gonna do something about it?" Your voice came out much more airy than you intended it to be. Your back presses further onto the wall. His gaze darts to your lips, You felt the same hand that was on your cheek rift further down to your hips. Your body flinching slightly from the contact.

He mutters out a 'hell yeah I will' and before you could process what was going on, his lips were already on yours. Your eyes closed the second he presses himself further against your body. Your lips parted slightly when you felt his hand give your neck a gentle squeeze. He took this as an opportunity to slip his tongue into you. The wet muscle exploring your mouth, gliding against the front of your teeth, tasting every inch of your mouth.

He takes your lower lip in between his and sucks. You felt your legs tremble slightly as you stopped a moan from escaping your throat. He didn't like that, the hand that was on your hip shifted, pinching the mound of flesh between his fingers, he drinks in the yelp that you had let out.

He tugs on your lower lip with his teeth, he bites down, wanting to hear you squeal, he clicks his tongue as he parts from you only slightly, catching his breath, he sees the way you try your best not to make a sound, and he hates that. He immediately dives right back in, his tongue focusing on yours this time. He bites down on yours, forcing a soft whimper out of your throat. He smirks slightly, your head was locked between both of his hands, he brings your tongue out past your lips, sucking on it.

God, he'd leave hickeys on it if he could.

Your cheeks heat up from embarrassment at the sound the both of you were making. The wet squelches bouncing back and fourth between the cramped walls between you.

He groans at the way your fingers dig into his scalp and tug on his hair. Trying to find something to ground yourself through the situation you were in.

His actions were more impatient now, he was biting harder, wanting to draw blood from your lips, wanting to taste it.

His hand landed on your thigh, slowly caressing it. You gripped his wrist before he could slide it up your skirt. You parted away from him, lips swollen, you mustered up a glare, but the haziness in your eyes prevented you from doing that. You wanted him to slide it up, you wanted him to take you right then and there, but you were also scared of what that would mean.

It was already bad that he had seen you cry, if he sees you naked, bare beneath him, then you couldn't turn back from that.

He sees the hesitation in the way your fingers trembled. "I need you, right now." He says with half-lidded eyes, clouded in lust. You contemplated for a moment, before loosening your grip on his wrist, he acted quickly. Slipping it up your skirt and pressing a palm on your clothed pussy. You buck your hips into his hand as you bit your knuckles to prevent any sound coming out of your throat.

He rips it away from your mouth, "let it all out princess," he practically growls. "I need everyone walking past to know who's making you feel good."

You let out a tiny whimper as he presses the bone of his palm to your clit, rubbing it in steady circles. You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes as you focus on how good you're feeling.

"That's it." He grins, repeating the pattern on your clit, "just let go, alright?"

He angles his hand, the pads of his fingers slowly rubbing your slit. He could feel the tip of his finger getting wet from your slick. He lights up seeing how wet you were already, "I haven't even touched you properly yet."

You roll your eyes, trying to maintain at least some kind of composure. Fighting the way your legs wanted to give out and collapse under him. The only way you were hoisting yourself up was the way you leaned against the wall.

The discomfort of the cloth between your flesh and his was preventing you form actually feeling him. He feels just the same as you did, wanting to shove your panties aside and plunge his fingers deep inside you.

Instead, he tugs on it. Letting go as and watching you flinch when the elastic band of your panties slap against you.

"You're so much prettier when you're falling apart." His other hand rides up your blouse, tugging your bra to the side and firmly grasping on your tit. You arch against him.

"I've-- ugh..- I've been falling apart."

"Yeah but never because of me." He retracts the hand that was massaging your tit, lowering it down between your thighs and in one swift motion, you hear a loud rip coming from beneath you. Your head snapped down, looking at him in disbelief when you realised he had fucking ripped your panties in half.

"Seongje what the fuck are you doi--" you cut yourself off with a moan, feeling his slim fingers enter your cunt. He's knuckles deep inside you now, adding another finger while curling it up, you arch even further when he reaches the sensitive spot inside of your gummy walls.

He pulls it out, before slamming it back in, maintaining the fast rhythm that he was going at. Your head drops down, hands clutching his forearms. His pride increasing the more he feels you clench around him. He hasn't even put his cock in you, and you're already trembling?

You groan when you felt his thumb rub steady figure eights on your clit. That mixed with the overwhelming feeling of his fingers folding inside you, slowly building up the pressure in your lower abdomen.

He could feel you were close to getting undone. Your pussy tightening around him even more, your moans were increasing, your hand let go of him and reached up to grip your hair.

"Just give it to me, yeah?" He dips his head down and snakes his tongue into your parted lips, your wet muscles dancing on each other while you reach closer to your release.

"I need to see you cum." He could feel his bulge growing harder in his pants the more he looks at your writhing face. Your brows furrowing as you focused on your pleasure. "Need to know how much of a slut you are for me."

His words made the walls of your cunt stutter around him. His pace falters for a second, his lips widening to a teasing smile. "You liked that?" He chuckles lowly.

"You like being degraded, don't you?" His head is by your neck now, licking and sucking hickeys on the nape of your throat. "Dirty girl."

His mouth is back on yours. A string of saliva connecting the both of you when he pulls away. Your lips were covered in his spit.

"I need you to cum around me baby." His voice dropped even further down somehow. You shut your eyes the second you felt your orgasm wash over you, your cum was practically dripping down his hand. Your pussy was clenching on nothing as he pulls his fingers out, he steadies his eye contact with you, bringing his hand up to his mouth and sucking on it.

He makes a show on dramatically moaning into his hand. "You taste so good." He grins at the way your head snaps away from his gaze in embarrassment. "Better than any of the lip glosses you've ever worn." He sucks on his fingers again, licking it clean, clean of your slick.

You didn't say anything, you didn't know what to say. He just fingered you, in public. God, you were probably moaning like a bitch in heat. You weren't too far from your neighbourhood too. You didn't want to embarrass yourself any more than you already are. He ripped your panties and fingered your pussy, and he's acting so much more normal than you are right now.

Your face was flushed, eyes half-lidded and lips wet and swollen. You were panting, both of your hands were clutching his jacket. Trying your best to avoid the intense gaze he was melting you with.

"Aw, she's all shy now?" He coos, he reaches up to caress the back of your scalp, redirecting your head to forcefully look at him. "But you were running your mouth so easily before." He tugs on your hair, forcing your head to completely focus on him. Only him.

"Look at me."

Your gaze drifts to his. His grin grows wider. The grip on your hair tightening only slightly, providing him restraint from just fucking you right here.

And he would, he wanted to feel you fall apart even further, this time, on his cock.

"Come home with me." Your eyes sharpen the moment he said that. Your lips part to speak, before you caught yourself between your words. You shook your head only slightly, uncomfortably so with the hand on your head. "My parents are-- are expecting me." Your voice came out soft.

You were mesmerised by the way the street light illuminated on his face, the yellow light accentuating the shadows of his features. The more you looked at him, the prettier he became.

"They can wait," he mutters before leaning his head back down and brought his lips back to yours, kissing you passionately.

He pulled himself back before it had gotten too heated again.

"I want to feel you." You didn't have time to respond, letting out a yelp when he bends down to hook an arm over the back of your knees, your own instinctively tossing itself around his shoulders as he carried you between his arms.

"What the hell are you doing." Your words came out more as a statement rather than a question. You could feel his erection through the way your hips would rub against him. Not wanting to point it out, not knowing how to point it out.

"I'm making sure I don't fuck you in the middle of that alleyway."

ـــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Your head spun when your back hit the mattress of Seongje's room.

He kneeled in front of you, staring you down, eyeing you like prey. He wanted to ravage you right now, you were truly beautiful under him. He wanted to see you fall apart.

"I should've done this sooner." He groans, caging you between his arms, his hands on each ≠the mattress on each side of your head. You looked up at him, your eyes and mind hazy from the amount of times he had stopped walking just to take you into his mouth.

"Why didn't you?" You were challenging him again, not sure where you got the confidence to do so, given the fact that you were quiet almost the entire time he walked to where he lived.

He paused for a moment, eyes drifting down to your unbuttoned blouse, his hand reaching to pop off the last few buttons, exposing your chest.

"That doesn't matter." He sits up a bit, hastily shoving the blouse off of your torso, tossing it to whichever direction behind him. "I have you now." He reaches to your bra strap, sliding it off of your shoulders and guiding his fingers to unclasp it.

You shudder at the way the cool air hits your exposed breasts. Your head shying away from him once you realise how vulnerable you felt beneath him. Your hands reaching for his just to stabilise yourself.

"Save the embarrassment for after I actually fuck you." His hands slide away form yours for a split second, he leans back and frantically unbuckles his belt, wanting nothing more but to feel you already.

He chucks his belt elsewhere, when he dives down to your still bare cunt, your ripped panties are still bunched up on your thighs, he leans down and licks a fat stripe from the bottom of your folds up to your clit. He lets out a loud moan after he tastes you.

"Taste so much better straight from your pussy, baby." He whispers, the vibrations from his voice shooting through your body, causing you to let out a breathy moan.

He laps at your cunt, licking up and down at your folds, before pushing past it and shoving his tongue inside your hole. He pushes in and out of you. His hands work down to unzip his jeans, grinding onto the mattress when he parts from between your thighs to pull down his pants. Leaving him with his boxers. He takes off his shirt along with his pants, not missing the way your eyes linger on the muscles of his figure.

He smirks down at you, grabbing you by your legs and dragging you against him. Pressing his hips flush to your pussy, you felt his clothed erection rub against your clit. Without thinking, you hoist yourself up on your elbow, extending your arm and tugging on the waistband of his boxers.

"Why don't you take this off and fuck me properly then?" You're not sure where you had gotten the sudden confidence. Seongje was also taken aback, looking down at you in mild shock, before gripping on your hips even tighter and slamming you against him.

He smirks widely, the corners of his lips stretching all the way to the edge of his cheek. "There she is."

He spreads your thighs wider apart. Basically ripping off his boxers and aligning himself with you. Your eyes widen only slightly when you see the sheer size of him. You've taken dick before, you've even seen dick bigger than the average. Seongje, however, he had a certain thickness to it that you had never seen before, he had an upwards curve and his tip was flush pink. You could already see the way it glistened with his pre-cum.

He seemed to notice the way you were focused on his dick, his chest swelling up in pride as he seemingly knew what you were thinking about.

"Needy for me, aren't you?"

Slowly-- and very slowly --he inched his tip inside you, your thighs clenching in the way it prodded at your hole. "You're so tense." He whispers, his voice dropping, "just relax."

Oh but how could you relax? He was nearly splitting you in half. You could feel every inch of his thick cock as it slides in your wet, tight, cunt. You unconsciously spread your thighs even wider apart, your eyes threatening to squeeze shut to compose yourself from the unbearable stretch he was causing you to feel.

"Oh no no no," he chuckled, tapping your forehead with his index finger, making you look up at him. "Don't do that cutie" he tells you softly, as if he was trying to be gentle, though there was nothing gentle with the way he has you caged in his arms right now. Nor the way his eyes were devouring you in ways he physically won't be able to.

"Just keep your eyes on me." Before you knew it, he was fully inside you, his cock burying you to your hilt, it was almost like you could feel his tip kissing your womb. The stretch was painfully amazing. The sting of it making you clench even harder. He grinds his hips so deep that you could feel the way his balls rest against your ass.

He groans the second he sinks in to you, "didn't think you'd be this tight." He laughs, head slumping down, ogling at the way your tits were sitting right in front of him, he takes a few deep breath, before moving his hips back to pull out his dick, leaving only his tips past your folds. "You flirt with almost every guy in school--"

He slams down, your back arches off of the bed, your arms reach around to grip on something-- anything-- to prevent yourself from letting your mind drift too far. "Is it that you've never fucked any of them?" He pulls himself out again, leaving only half of his cock inside, he pushes himself up, hooking his arms under you, squeezing your ass when he brings your hips up with him.

He slams down into you again, angling his hips so he could feel your cervix reaching his tip. "Or were they all so small you couldn't feel anything, huh?" He pulls his one arm away from you, reaching to your stomach and pressed down on the evident bulge poking out through the stretch of your skin. You moaned at the way he felt so deliciously uncomfortable when you felt his dick push harder down inside you.

He started to grind his hips in and out and in and out. Picking up his pace once he get comfortable at the way your walls are hugging him. You felt every vein grazing the inside of your cunt, rubbing on the spongey spot in your cunt.

"mm-- ah- oh god." You reach to the pillow behind you, muffling out the noises slipping through your mouth. Seongje didn't like that, he wanted to hear you, he wanted to own every sense of you; your noises, how you felt, how you tasted, hell-- even how you smell.

He grips the sides of your face away from the pillow, he forces you to look at him, "hiding away form me?" His hips were meeting yours with every thrust, "but you were running your mouth so confidently before."

You clutched the sheets behind you, your thighs clenching Seongje's hips as you felt your own grow sore with the position he was pulling you in. Though, you didn't have to hoist your own body upwards, not with the way he was holding you up to meet him.

Moans and sighs of his name leave slip from your tongue.

"That's right baby, just keep on moaning my name for me." His eyes close shut, the rhythm in his hips stuttering ever so slightly once he realises how close he is. Your wet, velvety walls were caressing him so nicely.

He felt so warm, so snug and tight. The way you were hugging him gave him a pleasure that no meaningless hook up could ever give him. There was a connection, emotionally speaking. He had pried his way to your heart and it seems like you were doing the same to him.

"Seongje! I-- hah, I'm close..--" You whined, thrashing around beneath him, he holds your hips in place, "stop moving." He focused on your release, wanting to make you cum around him, wanting you to suck in his dick like you needed it.

And you did, with a high pitched moan, you came around him, pussy clenching his cock even tighter, like you didn't want him to pull out.

He won't be pulling out any time soon.

He speeds up, creamy slick forming around the base of his cock. He swipes it with his finger, leaning slouching down and forcing his fingers in your mouth. You take him in easily, sucking on the two of his digits, tasting a mix of you and his pre-cum.

"You taste that?"

You meekly nod, his hand moving with every bob of your head, "that's us." He smiles, a crazy tint in his eyes, reflecting possession. The way you opened your mouth willingly, like you had already accepted that you were his.

"God." He whispers softly, feeling his high coming close with every grind of his hips, "I'm gonna cum in you cutie." He moans in your ear, relishing in the way your mouth curved in embarrassment. Or maybe it was pain, he's rubbing your clit violently now, your entire body spasming in overstimulation.

"I'm gonna paint you white, you want that? Hm?" His spit-coated hand slides up and down your cheek, "want me to breed you good?" He growls out a chuckle, tongue slipping past his lips and licking on yours.

You couldn't let out a word, your pussy already feeling sore and puffy, your legs probably had bruises with the way his hands had gripped on them. Your hips were probably bruised as well, matching the forming bruises on his own hips.

He lands a light slap on your face, snapping you out of the state of pure bliss you were wandering off to. "Nngh-- yes.. please-- oh!" You clutched your eyes shut, unable to handle the overwhelming pleasure forming beneath your thighs.

"That's it, just keep begging like that princess, I'll give you what you want." And with a final trust, he spurts his cum inside you, the sheer amount of it causing some of it to spill out of your stuffed hole. You felt full, full of him.

The both of you were panting in the same beat, breaths mixing with each other when he pushes his lips against yours, tongue fighting with your tired one. He lets go of yur thighs, and it falls down on his bed with an echoing thud. You let go of the bedsheet between your palms, darting up to clutch on his hair.

Somehow, strangely, and unbelievably so, the kisses that he had trailed down your neck were gentle. You'd describe it as almost lovingly, romantic even.

"Holy shit princess," he breaths out on your skin, you shuddered at the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the cold atmosphere of his room.

"I think I like you." He lazily grins up at you, biting his lip when he sees the red and swollen features on your face.

You look down at him, catching your breath and trying not to focue on the fact that he was still inside you,

"You.." you cut yourself off, catching your breath, trying to find the words, he looks at you expectingly, "you don't like me, Seongje." His eyes widen only slightly, if you weren't paying attention, then you wouldn't've noticed the shock on his face.

"You're just obsessed with me."

"Then let me be obsessed with you" He props himself up with his arms, "you'll learn to want me eventually."

You paused for a moment, wondering if he was even worth the words you were thinking.

"I do."

He lights up, locking eyes with you. You could feel him slowly harden inside you.

"I want you as much as you want me."

wowza this took a while.

The first time Seongje saw you, it wasn't a glance; it was a claim. You were laughing with your friends, a sound that cut through the noise of his world and anchored itself in his brain. In that instant, something cold and possessive in him snapped to attention. Mine.

After that, he was everywhere.

A tall, silent figure in the periphery, his glasses hiding eyes that never seemed to blink when they were fixed on you. At the coffee shop, reflected in a window. Leaning against his car across the street from your classes. Your friend group had a new, chilling routine: a nervous whisper of "Don't look now, but he's here again."

Everyone knew him. Seongje. The name was synonymous with calculated cruelty, a ruthless bully who ran the  union with a quiet, psychopathic intensity. His attention wasn't flattering; it was a suffocating weight.

The day he finally closed the distance was brutally ordinary. Your friends, giddy and oblivious, ditched you for the ice cream stand across the park, leaving you exposed on the sunny bench.

A shadow fell over you before you heard his voice.

"Hi."

Your heart didn't just skip a beat; it stuttered into a frantic, panicked rhythm. You looked up, and there he was. Seongje. In the flesh, standing too close.

"Hi…" you breathed out, the word barely a whisper. Your eyes darted toward the ice cream line, desperately seeking rescue.

He noticed. Of course he did. A faint, unnerving smile touched his lips. "You're Y/N, right?" he said, as if this were a normal introduction and not the culmination of a weeks-long silent siege. "I'm Seongje."

You could only manage a slow, stiff nod, your throat too tight to form words.

"Don't be scared," he chuckled, a low, soft sound that didn't reach his cold eyes. His gaze dragged slowly down your summer dress, and for a terrifying second, his expression shifted. It was a look of pure, rapturous possession. He’d fantasized about this—about you in these soft, innocent dresses that made you look like something untouched, something to be unwrapped. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to leave the imprint of his touch on that prettiness, to taint that innocence with everything he was.

He leaned in, invading your space, forcing you to look directly into the lenses that hid his soul. "I was wanting to ask... would you like to go on a date with me?"

Your face must have reflected pure, unadulterated horror—the look of a rabbit realizing the wolf can talk.

"I'm sorry—" you choked out, but the sentence died as your friends descended, a bubble of noise and laughter.

"Here's your vanilla, Y/N!" one chirped, before her smile faltered. Their eyes landed on Seongje, and the air went cold. In an instant, your arms were hooked through theirs, a silent, united front against the threat. They didn't say a word to him, just leveled protective glares until he finally, slowly, turned and walked away.

You didn't need to finish your sentence. The rejection was written in every terrified line of your body.

"He asked me out on a date," you blurted out as soon as you were a "safe" distance away, the words tasting like ash.

The shocked gasps were immediate. "What did you say?!"

"I was saying 'I'm sorry, but no' when you showed up."

"That's a rejection," your friend Sumi giggled, a nervous, relieved sound.

"Why on earth would he think you'd say yes?" Yerim muttered, shaking her head. "We can't leave you alone anymore."

"Shut up," you said, a wave of cold hatred washing over you. "You know exactly why I said no. He's a bully. He's a bad guy. I would never, ever date someone like him."

You didn't see the figure who had paused just around the corner, listening to every single word.

Seongje stood frozen. The words—bully, bad guy, never—didn't just hurt. The city lights, knowing everyone could see you were his. The hatred in your voice shattered the daydream, leaving only the cold, hard reality of your rejection.

The pain was sharp and shocking, a crack in his cold exterior. But it didn't soften him. It solidified him.

Without a sound, he melted back into the shadows, a new, grim determination settling over him. Fine. If you wouldn't accept the pretty fantasy, he’d give you a different reality. He would show you. He would make you see.

He would have you. And he’d make sure you never wore that innocent look for anyone but him again.

[♡]

The next day, nothing.

The day after that, nothing.

A whole week passed without a single glimpse of him. No silent figure across the street. No dark car idling near the curb. The oppressive weight of his presence, which had become a constant in your life, simply... vanished.

You were hesitant to believe it at first, constantly scanning crowds, flinching at every tall figure. But as the days bled into a week, a cautious, dizzying relief began to bloom in your chest. Maybe... just maybe, he’d taken the rejection well. It was a shock, completely at odds with the ruthless bully everyone knew, but you weren't about to question it.

"See? I told you he'd get the hint eventually," Sumi said, slurping her bubble tea. "Even psychopaths have to accept a 'no' sometimes."

"Guess we can stop the bodyguard routine," Yerim laughed, though her eyes still held a trace of unease.

You laughed with them, the sound feeling foreign and light. The world seemed brighter, the air easier to breathe. You started taking your usual routes again, staying out a little later, embracing the freedom you'd lost. It was a trick. A beautiful, naive trick.

He had given you exactly what you wanted: a false sense of security. He wasn't gone. He was just setting the stage.

It was late. The walk home from the library was quiet, the path through the familiar, dimly lit alley a shortcut you’d started taking again now that the fear was gone.

The alley seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in. You quickened your pace, the cheerful melody from your headphones now feeling foolish and out of place. That’s when you heard it—a low, grating whistle that cut through the music.

You pulled one earbud out. Three figures were leaning against the graffiti-stained wall ahead, smirking. They pushed off and fanned out, casually blocking your path.

"Hey there, pretty thing. Where are you off all by yourself?" the one in the middle drawled, his eyes roaming over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Just heading home," you said, your voice tighter than you intended. You tried to step around them, but the one on the left shifted, cutting off your escape.

"Don't be like that. We just wanna talk," the second one said, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. "That's a cute dress. You got a name to go with it?"

A cold knot of fear tightened in your stomach. "Leave me alone," you said, injecting a strength into your voice you didn't feel.

The one in the middle chuckled, taking a step closer. "Or what? You'll call your boyfriend?"

"Please, just let me pass," you insisted, your heart beginning to hammer against your ribs.

He reached out, his fingers aiming to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Why? We're just being friendly—"

His words were cut off by a sickening, wet crunch.

A fist had seemingly materialized from the darkness, connecting with the side of the guy's head. He dropped like a sack of stones, unconscious before he hit the ground.

You stumbled back with a gasp, pressing yourself against the cold brick wall.

Seongje stood there, his expression a mask of cold fury. He moved with a predator's grace, a blur of brutal, efficient violence. He caught the second guy with a vicious elbow to the throat, silencing his choked cry. The third turned to run, but Seongje grabbed him by the collar and slammed his face into the wall with a nauseating thud.

It was over in less than ten seconds. Three bodies lay motionless on the dirty pavement. Seongje stood over them, his chest rising and falling steadily. He calmly adjusted his glasses.

His eyes, cold and sharp behind the lenses, finally landed on you. You were frozen, trembling, a silent scream trapped in your throat.

He took a step toward you, then another, until he was standing far too close. The air grew thick and heavy.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft, almost gentle.

You could only shake your head, mute with shock and a dawning, horrifying realization. The timing was too perfect. His violence was too practiced, too immediate. It felt staged.

Mumbling a shaky, automatic "th-thank you," you tried to sidestep him, your only instinct to flee.

He moved with you, blocking your path effortlessly. A slow, cold smirk spread across his face as his eyes traced the lines of your fear.

"So," he purred, his voice dropping to an intimate, threatening whisper. "This is what I get for saving you? A mumbled thanks and you trying to run away?"

He leaned in, his breath ghosting your cheek.

"You should be more grateful. Though I suppose I can't blame you for being confused," he murmured, his smirk widening into something truly monstrous. "It's hard to know who to thank, isn't it? The man who saved you... or the man who sent them in the first place?"

The confession hung in the air, sucking all the oxygen out of the alley. The world tilted on its axis. He hadn't just saved you.

He had engineered the entire nightmare.

"I think you owe me a little more than a 'thank you,' don't you, Y/N?”

The smirk on Seongje's face was triumphant. He watched the horrifying understanding dawn in your eyes—the realization that your fear, your relief, your very reality, were all toys he had played with.

"Why...?" you breathed out, the word a shaky exhale of pure terror.

"Because you needed to see," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He took a final step forward, eliminating the last bit of space between you. "You needed to understand that the world is full of monsters." His cold hand came up, and he traced a single, possessive finger down your chilled cheek. You flinched, but were too frozen to pull away.

"But I'm not like them," he whispered, his voice dropping into a horrible parody of comfort. "I'm the only one who can keep them away. I'm the only one who can keep you safe."

You are out of words at his sick revelation. Your mind, reeling and shattered, could only form one broken sentence.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you let out, your voice a croaked whisper of pure horror.

He chuckled lowly, a dark, amused sound that seemed to suck all the warmth from the alley. He slowly reached up and fixed his glasses, a casual, calculated gesture that was utterly at odds with the violence surrounding you both.

"What's wrong with me?" he repeated, taking a slow, deliberate step closer, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. "Nothing. I finally see things clearly."

Another step. You were pinned between him and the cold brick wall.

"You were confused. You needed... a demonstration. A lesson to help you understand." His voice was terrifyingly calm, like a professor explaining a simple concept. "Those fools..." He gestured dismissively at the unconscious men. "...they were the lesson. And I was the answer."

He was now so close you could see the dark, unwavering certainty in his eyes behind the lenses.

"The only thing 'wrong' here," he whispered, his breath ghosting across your cheek, "was your refusal to see that I'm the only thing that's right for you."

His hand came up, not to strike you, but to gently—possessively—cup your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.

"But don't worry. I'm going to keep teaching you until you get it.”

"It's getting late so I better go home.” You tried to sidestep him, your voice trembling as you attempted to create distance, to inject some shred of normalcy into the horrific reality crashing down around you.

The polite, everyday words sounded absurd and pathetic in the dark, silent alley.

But his hand shot out and clamped down on your wrist.

You turned around to face him, wincing at the painful way his fingers were digging into your skin.

“Stop it–”

“You just thanked me because I saved you. Don't you think I deserved something nice in return?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice as he pulled you closer to him, looking down at you. “I mean I wasn't shown at the right time. God knows what would have happened to an innocent girl like you.”

“I wouldn't have thanked you if I knew you were behind all this. You're not only a bully but a liar also. Now let go of me.”

Your words made him even angrier.

“What if I don't want to? Are you going to make me?” he sneered, looking at your scared face, your wide eyes and wobbly lips. “I definitely deserve something for looking out for a dumb slut like you.”

He held you in one place with one hand while the other wrapped around your throat.

Your eyes widened and you thrashed against him. His grip around your throat tightened, cutting off your air.

With all your courage, you aimed your knee upward, missing his crotch but striking his thigh hard enough to catch him off guard. A grunt of surprise and pain escaped him, and his grip on you loosened for a split second.

You screamed—a raw, desperate sound—and ripped yourself away from him, stumbling backward before turning to run. You prayed someone, anyone, might hear. Even if the chances were low.

But before you could get more than a few steps, his longer legs easily caught up to you. You were no match for his speed or his strength. He grabbed you by the arm and roughly yanked you back, shoving you hard against the cold, unforgiving brick wall. The impact knocked the wind from your lungs.

“Wasn't expecting you to fight,” he growled, his voice low and venomous now, all pretense of calm utterly gone. His eyes glinted with a new, volatile fury. The mask had fully slipped, revealing the raw predator beneath.

He leaned his weight into you, pinning you completely, his face inches from yours.

“That was a mistake.”

You gulped, a useless, terrified sound. Acting on pure, desperate instinct, your hand flew up and slapped against his chest. It was a pathetic gesture, the weak thud of your palm against the solid, unmovable wall of his body.

He didn't even flinch. He was strong, big, and utterly immovable. Your small act of defiance was nothing to him. Less than nothing.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating through the hand you'd just tried to use to push him away.

"Cute," he murmured, the word dripping with condescension. "You think that's going to work?"

You were leaned against the wall, completely trapped, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The fear was a live wire in your veins, sharp and paralyzing. You were scared beyond thought, beyond any coherent plan. Every cell in your body screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go.

He brought his hand up again, not to hit you, but to cage you. His forearm pressed against the wall beside your head, his other hand still a firm, threatening weight on your body, eliminating any last hope of escape.

"The fighting," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "The running. The slapping. It's all just part of the lesson, Y/N. You're learning what happens when you defy me."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"And the lesson isn't over.”

The sound of your delicate buttons of your summer dress popping and skittering across the alley pavement was horrifying sound. A cold yelp escaped you as the front of your dress was ripped open, leaving you exposed in the thin fabric of your bra and panties, the torn dress hanging uselessly off your shoulders.

His hands were on you immediately, kneading the flesh of your ass with a possessive growl, the thin material of your bra doing nothing to hide you from his touch. A fresh wave of terror washed over you as he hooked his fingers into waistband of your panties and yanked them down in one brutal motion. Your legs wobbled violently,  threatening to give out entirely. 

“Seongje please —” you begged, your a voice broken whisper. 

But he was beyond listening, driven by a dark, all-consuming desire to claim and taint the innocence he'd become obsessed with. 

He roughly pulled one of your legs up, hooking it around your hip to hold you open and in place. The cold air hit your most intimate skin. The metallic rasp of his belt unbuckling sent fresh, hot teats spilling down your cheeks.

“You know I asked you out nicely,” he taunted, his voice a low, vicious snarl against your ear, “but you thought I was a bad guy.” He was throwing your own words back at you, twisting them into justification for his violence. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to blink away the tears as he positioned himself. There was no preparation, no tenderness–only one brutal, tearing thrust that forced a choked gasp of agony from your throat.

“Fuck.” He growled, his pleasure mingling with your pain.

He began to move, his grip on your knee bruising as he jerked your body against the wall with each grinding thrust. You dug your nails into the rough brick behind you, your ankles straining against your own weight, the sensation of a painful fullness that drowned out everything else.

Every pound into your core was meaner and harder than the last. “You act like some upright bitch and rejected me.” He spat, his breath hot on your neck. “You think you're better than me?”

You couldn't speak, you couldn't form a word. Only small, pathetic whines escaped your lips, each one fueling the humiliation burning on your cheeks.

He drove into you relentlessly until he hit a deep, jarring place that made you clench around him involuntarily from the shock of pain. “Look at you now,” he sneered, his voice thick with contempt and arousal. “You're just a cock hungry slut. Fuck, you just clenched around me?”

A few more frantic, punishing pumps and you felt the hot, sudden rush of his release filling you. He didn’t pull out. Instead he pushed himself as deep as he could possibly go, grinding against you, ensuring his seed spilled inside. 

“Fuck.” He breathed out, a final, satisfied groan fanning over your sweat dampened neck. 

Then the weight of him, the horror of what he'd done, and the crushing reality of your violation came crashing down. He remained there, inside you, for a long moment, a living  breathing monument to utter your defeat.

He finished straightening his clothes, his movements slow and precise. Then, with that same unnerving calm, he reached up and adjusted his glasses, pushing them back into their perfect, calculated position on the bridge of his nose. The gesture was so ordinary, so mundane, it made the horror of what he had just done feel even more surreal. The silence that followed was not peaceful; it was the kind of silence that comes after a bomb has gone off—deafening, heavy, and full of invisible shrapnel.

He looked down at you.

You were curled on the cold, filthy ground of the alley, your knees pulled to your chest. And there it was—the final, perfect image he’d craved. The pretty summer dress he’d fantasized about for weeks was now torn and stained with grime and tears, hanging off your shoulders in ruined shreds. Your body shook with silent, wracking sobs you didn't have the strength to voice.

A deep, profound satisfaction settled in his chest. This was better than any fantasy. He hadn’t just seen you in the dress; he had ruined you in it. He had left his mark on the very innocence that had captivated him, tainting it completely with everything he was.

His gaze was not one of passion, or anger, or even pride. It was one of cold, clinical assessments. Like a sculptor stepping back to examine a piece of finished work.

He took one last, slow step closer, his shadow falling over you like a shroud. He leaned down, his voice a soft, chilling whisper that cut through the silence.

"Now you know," he said, the words devoid of any emotion but finality. "Now you know exactly how bad I can be."

It was not a question. It was a statement of fact. The lesson was complete.

He didn't wait for a response. He simply turned and walked away.

His footsteps were calm, measured, and eerily quiet on the pavement. He didn't look back. He didn't issue another threat. He just left.

The sound of his retreating footsteps was somehow more violating than the act itself. It was a dismissal. It said you were nothing. A used thing. A concluded lesson.

You were alone.

Utterly, completely alone.

The three men he’d beaten still lay unconscious nearby, their presence only heightening the surreal horror. The alley walls seemed to press in, the darkness swallowing you whole.

You felt… ruined. Hollowed out. The person you were just an hour ago was gone, and what was left was a raw, exposed nerve, trembling on the cold ground.

He had taken everything. Your sense of safety. Your dignity. Your body. And with his final, whispered words, he had seared the truth of his nature into your soul before he simply walked away, leaving you there in the wreckage.

"I knew you'd be back eventually."

Seongje had a habit of going missing for weeks, sometimes months, without a word in advance. It got so frequent that you could predict—pretty accurately—when he was about to disappear. He’d start acting strangely, smoking more often, ignoring your texts, and declining to hang out. His avoidance typically surfaced whenever you got into a relationship or developed a silly crush.

When he finally stopped being distant, he would drop by your apartment unannounced, eager to meddle in your business after being away for so long. Tonight was no different. He wasn't the least bit surprised to catch you getting ready for a night out.

Seongje looked at your dress from behind. It was short enough to catch a glimpse of your panties, and he shamelessly eyed the lacy fabric. “Who are you going out with this time?"

You paused, as if choosing your words carefully. “Just some guy I've been talking to recently.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Ah, really?”

“Yeah.”

After your clipped response, the conversation turned quiet. You seemed overly interested in styling your hair all of a sudden. Seongje stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, assessing your stiff behavior. “Where is he taking you?”

Another pause, this time reluctant to speak. “A nightclub.”

“What kind of dumbass plans the first date at a club?”

“This isn't our first date."

Seongje cocked his head, confused.

Realizing he wasn’t going to let up, you turned to face him, arms crossed. “Don’t you have some kind of union business to take care of? What’s with the fifty questions?”

He merely chuckled at your irritation. “You know it’s not nice to hide things from your friends.”

“You only pull out the friendship card when it’s convenient for you.”

“So, you are hiding something.”

The two of you stared at each other, stubborn and unrelenting. Though while he looked amused, you looked guilty.

After several seconds, you caved in. “It’s my ex.”

Instantly, the humor in his face dropped.

"Look, before you start, we talked for hours last night, and I think he's finally going to change." You started to ramble. "And, the whole club thing, he probably just wants to make things less awkward, you know? It’s not a big deal.”

Seongje gave you a deadpan stare, letting his silence speak for itself. It was obvious you were trying to convince yourself of these lies, not him.

"We talked everything out. It’ll be better this time.”

You waited, half expecting him to say something rude, but he just shook his head and laughed dryly. "Do you seriously believe that?"

You huffed in annoyance, turning back to the mirror. "Whatever. You wouldn't know anything about dating, anyway."

He scoffed. Your ability to pivot from his very straightforward question was impressive to say the least, especially when you took a jab at his own dating life, which was practically non-existent.

Flings and one-night stands were more his speed. Given his ruthless reputation, there aren’t many people who would willingly get close to him. You were the only person who treated him like an average guy, even when he revealed his sadistic side, showing up at your doorstep with blood on his clothes.

Seongje watched as you applied another layer of lip gloss, lost in your own world. He didn't understand what you saw in him, and he certainly didn't understand what you saw in your previous partners. As many times as he tried to warn you about being strung along, you refused to acknowledge it.

At one point, he stopped caring, tired of repeating the obvious, but when he caught you crying after a nasty break-up, he realized two things: 1) He didn’t want you dating anyone else, and 2) He liked you. A lot.

If you hadn’t begged him not to hurt your ex, he might’ve killed the guy.

Thinking back on it now, getting involved would've exposed his feelings— feelings he didn't want to face yet.

Noticing his sour mood, you tried changing the subject. “Since you’re back from hiding, we should plan a night out, just you and me.”

“I’m only free tonight.” He said flatly, not even trying to make it believable.

“Okay, fine, I’ll be back before midnight.”

“I’m not waiting here while you dance around with that idiot.”

“Don’t call him that.” You mumbled, suppressing your irritation.

"Stop dating idiots, then." He retorted.

Ever since Seongje arrived, it seemed you both were on edge, holding back for the other, trying to prevent the inevitable.

Seongje wouldn't move from his position by the doorway, afraid he'd do something reckless.

You wouldn't meet his eyes, afraid he'd see right through you.

Neither of you realized how pointless it all was.

Still, you tried to keep your voice calm. "Why do you act like that?"

Already, he was laughing, sensing where this was going. "Like what?"

"Like I can't make my own decisions." You replied. "I can't date anyone without you throwing a tantrum."

"I don't throw tantrums." He said, completely disregarding your first statement.

"Yes, you do! It's like you're jealous or something."

Jealous.

It didn't fully hit him until you said it out loud.

Seeing you get dolled up for the same guy who mistreated you drove him crazy. Pretending was the easy part. Watching and enduring, that’s when it got difficult. The thought of your ex being all over you at the club, feeding you more lies, getting you drunk, touching you—

Seongje's feet were moving before he could stop them. In quick, effortless strides, he stood behind you in the mirror, fed up. You met his gaze in the reflection, slightly startled by his change in demeanour.

"Seongje?"

His large hands settled on your hips before spinning you around, forcing you to face him directly. Lingering touches weren’t unusual with Seongje, though sometimes, he would cross that line between platonic and romantic love, testing the waters, gauging your reaction. Like now, as he moved in closely, luring you in with his confident stare. "So what if I am jealous?”

You looked at him in surprise, not because of his proximity, but the seriousness of his tone. There wasn't a flirty smile or lazy grin that accompanied his words. This wasn't a joke.

His lips ghosted over your own, tempting you, daring you.

Before you could do anything, your phone buzzed on the dresser, revealing a single text message.

Pulling up.

You took the brief interruption as an opportunity to move away, desperately needing a moment to calm your hammering heart.

Unless your mind was playing tricks on you, Seongje had been seconds away from kissing you.

And you wanted to kiss him back.

No longer in his hold, you collected your thoughts, breathing slowly. "We shouldn't..." You trailed off. "Not right now."

Seongje said nothing, but the mood shifted. You’ve known him long enough to recognize when he’s pissed.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

You frowned at him. “Don’t, Seongje, you know I hate it when you smoke in here.”

Again, he said nothing, sparking his lighter.

The anger he showed you differed from what others saw. With you, he restrained himself, or at least tried to.

You sighed. “Just say what you’re thinking.”

“Why bother?" He took a puff from his cigarette, purposely blowing the smoke in your direction. "You don't listen anyway.”

“Okay, fine—”

“He’s just treating you like a fuck toy, and you’re making it easy.”

You winced at his harshness. Seongje wasn’t the most comforting person in the world, but as your friend, it wouldn’t kill him to show a bit of compassion for once. “You know what, never mind. I’m not in the mood.”

He laughed in disbelief. “You think I’m always in the mood to listen to you whine about a different guy every month?”

You glared at him. "Fuck off." You spat angrily, storming into the living room, ready to leave.

Constructive criticism was one thing, but being blatantly rude was another.

Seongje heard the dejection in your voice, but he wasn’t going to fall for your teary eyes this time. “Running away already?”

Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he burned it out on the dresser before following behind you, deliberately pushing your buttons further. “What’d he say to win you over this time? Was it another empty promise?”

You ignored him, keeping your pace towards the front door. Arguing with Seongje was like arguing with a wall. When he gets upset like this, there’s nothing you could say to get through to him.

Seongje grabbed hold of your wrist, pulling you backwards. Your heels clicked against the floor as you stumbled right into his chest. He couldn’t mask his frustration any longer.

He wouldn't stand by and watch you go through another heartbreak.

“Answer me. Was it just another half-assed apology? Or could he even be bothered to do that?”

You attempted to snatch your arm away, fuming at his pestering. “Why does it matter!?”

Within seconds, you found yourself pressed against the wall, completely blocked from the exit. “Because he should be on his knees, begging for forgiveness." He leaned in, trailing his eyes down the length of your short dress. "Giving you a proper apology."

You froze, ceasing your fight against his strong grip. The sudden drop in his tone left no room for misunderstandings. In the past, Seongje barely batted an eye when you moved through different partners, each one worse than the last. Seeing him behave this way was baffling.

Just then, the familiar roar of your ex-boyfriend’s car sounded off in the driveway. You looked in the direction of the door, but Seongje remained unfazed. He was frighteningly calm. No one could ever make him feel threatened.

He continued to speak as if no one had even arrived. “If I were in his position, I’d make it up to you.” His lips touched your ear. “All. Fucking. Night.”

Hearing him emphasize each word made your knees buckle. Nothing could've prepared you for the suffocating tension that settled in the room. Seongje had no intentions of letting you leave, and oddly enough, you had no intentions of pushing him away either.

Perhaps, the very thought of your ex waiting in the car while Seongje pressed you against the wall was…exciting.

You pushed your thoughts away, visibly shaking your head. “You’re my best friend.”

“So what?” He dismissed your doubts, impatient. He tilted your chin upward, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. “Friends help each other, right?”

Swayed by the heat of his touch, you stole a timid glance at his lips. Sharing a kiss would surely be crossing the line, but you couldn’t find the will to reject his advances. Up until now, you never questioned why he was so persistent in mending your broken heart. After every failed relationship, Seongje was there to pick up the pieces, putting you back together again.

He knew you better than anyone, and despite his complaining, he offered a listening ear when no one else would.

Did he really have feelings for you?

Warmth blossomed in your lower stomach, and the former tension that clung to the air began to fade. Your eyes fluttered shut as Seongje leaned forward to meet your lips. Much to your surprise, his kiss felt hurried and desperate, like he was trying to prove a point. It took a while for you to fall in sync with his pace, but even then, you were no match for his hunger. Traces of your lip gloss were smeared across his mouth and chin, a clear indication of how messy he was being.

He cradled the back of your head, tugging your hair back, exposing your neck.

“Wait, what about—” You started to say, but he was already on your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses over your jaw and throat.

In the bedroom, your phone began to buzz on the dresser, likely a call from your ex. You forgot to grab it during your fight with Seongje, not that it mattered anymore. He met your lips once again, this time heavier, purposely distracting you from thinking about anything but him.

You pressed your hands against his chest, trying to capture his attention. "Seongje."

He pulled away, eyes clouded over.

While you were trying to catch your breath, he remained composed, as if he didn't just spend the last two minutes kissing you senseless. For some reason, you couldn't find the right words to say, not when he was looking at you like that— like he was too far gone.

Wordlessly, he pulled his glasses off, tucking them into his pocket.

There was no going back.

Seongje lowered himself to his knees, swiftly lifting your leg over his shoulder. The sheer intimacy of this position made your heart race uncontrollably. You imagined him as the type to take you from behind, dominating you in every sense, and yet here he was, catering to you.

He savored your anxious expression one last time before sliding your dress high enough to expose your panties. Any lingering doubts were left behind as you were caught up in the surrounding heat of his body, unable to think straight. The only thing you could focus on was the soft strands of his hair tickling your thigh.

You jolted at the pressure of his mouth latching onto your panties. In one long motion, he licked your clothed cunt, making you whimper. The thin fabric did nothing to shield you from his tongue.

Instinctively, your hips jerked, asking for more. Seongje brought his hands to your waist, keeping you upright with a piercing grip. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling ever so slightly.

Your phone started ringing again, but you were too busy grinding against Seongje's mouth to notice.

It wasn't until you heard the sudden blare of a car horn that you remembered where you were.

You started to panic, but Seongje held you tighter. "Don't run."

He wasn’t the least bit concerned about the noise. You were at his mercy the minute he cushioned himself between your thighs. Sooner or later, your ex would come knocking on the door, and he couldn't care less. If he wasn't so consumed with lust, he'd go out there and wreck that bastard's car. Really, he was being nice.

You bit your lower lip. It was absolutely maddening how he purposely dragged things on. “Hurry.”

“Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

When you didn't respond, he laughed. The grin he wore was unsettling.

Luckily for you, Seongje wasn't capable of taking things slow, not when you were throbbing so close to his face. Countless nights he lost sleep, wanting you, needing you, but he was stuck playing as your best friend.

He hated being your friend.

There was no time to brace yourself as Seongje yanked your panties to the side. His tongue slipped inside of you, evading the tight space with little difficulty. Your whimpers quickly turned into full moans as his nose grazed your clit. He kept his eyes on you, unblinking.

Seongje explored your pussy as if it rightfully belonged to him, dragging and swirling his tongue around every inch of you. Hearing your cries only encouraged him to take you higher. He hadn't pulled away for air once. Instead, he pressed himself deeper, utterly consuming you.

“Slow down.” You whined, completely contradicting your plea for him to hurry.

Seongje hummed lazily, undeterred by your pleas.

With a single demonstration, he was making up for all the times you’ve been wronged in the past. He hated to see you suffer at the hands of people who never intended to reciprocate your love.

As the pleasure intensified, you found yourself pulling him closer, bucking your hips to the rhythm of his tongue. He moaned, delighted at your courage.

Outside, the sound of footsteps walking up the pavement reached your ears.

“Shit.” You breathed, your head dizzy.

Seongje pinned your body to the wall. His half-lidded gaze was piercing. “Keep still.”

You complied.

There was banging against the door. “Hey, you in there!?”

Seongje abruptly pulled away from your thighs. The lower half of his face was glistening— even the tip of his nose was damp. Pure amusement danced in his eyes. “Looks like we have a guest.”

His middle and index finger teased your cunt before plunging inside. “I wonder who it could be."

His sarcastic comments fell on deaf ears. You couldn't bring yourself to care about what he was saying, not when he was fingering you so roughly.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” Seongje tilted his head, feigning innocence.

If you weren’t so on edge, you might’ve had an equally sarcastic response, but you said nothing, fighting to keep quiet. Seongje increased his pace, reaching deeper each time he pushed his fingers upward. His lips surrounded your clit, sucking relentlessly. It was a miracle you hadn’t given yourself away yet.

The banging at the door persisted. It was too late to pretend you weren’t home. The lights were on, casting a glow behind your blinds.

“We have to do something.” You panted.

Seongje continued to play with your clit. There was no use in talking to him. As far as he was concerned, your ex was just random background noise. If someone walked in right now, he wouldn’t bat an eye.

You could only cover your mouth to muffle your moans.

Just when you thought your ex would try to barge in, he only muttered "Fuck it" before walking off.

Relief calmed your nerves, but not for long. Seongje wasted no time slipping his tongue inside you once more. The familiar coil of your orgasm was beginning to fester. You had no control over yourself, merely a puppet to the strings of pleasure.

You could faintly hear Seongje speaking against your pussy, something along the lines of “…that’s it,” and “…good girl.”

Whatever it was, the vibration sent you over the edge. Words failed to leave your mouth as you almost folded over. If it wasn’t for Seongje's firm hold, you would’ve lost balance as your body prepared for its approaching orgasm.

You clutched his hair, eyes rolling, and back arching.

Then, Seongje detached himself from you.

When you looked down at him, chest heaving from the intensity, he smirked.

“Aw, don’t make that face.” His shoulders shook in silent laughter. “You thought I’d let you cum after you tried to leave me? Huh?”

You stared at him, stunned. You started to say something, but the words died in your throat.

“Don’t be mistaken, princess, you’re being punished.”

He removed himself from your thighs and stood to his full height. You immediately caught sight of the large tent in his pants and swallowed.

The man in front of you didn’t look like your best friend anymore. He was much more than that.

Seongje noticed the change in your eyes. It resembled the way he often looked at you— with undeniable attraction. Whether it be lust or love, it didn’t matter, as long as you desired him.

Within that brief second of eye contact, he was ready to ruin you all over again.

He kissed you, raw and uninhibited, like he couldn't get enough of you. "Turn around."

Using your last bit of energy, you obeyed, laying your palms flat on the wall. You felt your body bend as he pulled your waist to his crotch, rubbing his bulge against your ass.

Seongje felt a rush of excitement pulse through his veins. "Finally, you're mine."

♡˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹♡ ˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹ ♡˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹♡

You'd been dating Baku for a while, and he was still a social butterfly and loud, very different from you. But somehow, you got used to him, and he changed some things in his behavior so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable, like yelling around you or getting into fights. Surprisingly, your relationship has been going really well.

Your parents adore him and trust him completely. And you finally made friends.

After you started dating, you became close to Baku's friends, and, to your surprise or not, he had already told his friends about you. Gotak even bet Juntae that Baku wouldn't be able to date you, and when he lost the bet, he had to buy you dinner. You got along really well with everyone, but the one you were closest to was Sieun. You bonded quickly. Always serious, and you understood each other even in silence, always using headphones even without listening to any music, and even the way you fought, using a pen as a shield.

And to play with you, the boys sat you side by side and started wondering if you were long-lost brothers. Suho joined the group a little after you, and he was the one who joined Baku in making jokes and lame jokes.

The six of you always hung out together, and you were loving your new group of friends, but something that bothered you lately was the lack of time just for you and Baku.

You two always went out with your other friends and never as a couple. You no longer stayed home, in complete silence, or watching something, just enjoying each other's presence. And most importantly, you never had sex again, and you missed those things, and you didn't show it, but you were increasingly needy for your boyfriend, and tonight you had the chance to have some alone time with him.

The two of you were on your way to Baku's house after a fun afternoon with your friends. You'd gone to play amateur basketball, since some of you aren't very good at basketball. You split up, with Baku, Suho, and Juntae on one team, and Gotak, Sieun, and you on the other. You lost humiliatingly and had to pay for dinner this time, and then you each went your own way, leaving just you and Baku.

Your parents were out of town, and Baku suggested you sleep over this time. Even though he wasn't too keen on his father's company, he said he'd be home late, so you could enjoy some alone time.

You were lying down watching a movie on your laptop. It was already halfway through, and you didn't even pay attention, as you were busy figuring out how to tell Baku you want to have sex without seeming like a needy, weird slut. But your thoughts are interrupted when you hear light snores. Looking at the boy, you see that he's asleep. You smile and give him a light kiss on the cheek, turning off your laptop, putting it aside, and falling asleep with the boy.

You wake up a while later, it's still late at night. You go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, seeing that Baku's father hasn't arrived yet. You return to the bedroom and lie down again, hugging the boy from the side, placing your leg on his lap. But you stop when you feel his semi-hard cock covered by his clothes. Your eyes drop to his lap, your lips open in a faint smile, and your hand moves down there, feeling the bulge. You lay your head on his chest, deciding to take a little more risk, slipping your hand into his pants, feeling the skin of his large shaft. You begin to stroke it, trying to get him fully hard.

You sit up and pull down his pants and underwear together, watching his cock spring out. You move closer, trying to take it in your mouth, licking and sucking the tip a few times.

After lubricating the boy's cock with your saliva, you remove your shorts and panties, straddling his lap, grabbing his shaft and running it past your entrance and clit, then trying to sink into him immediately. It's difficult, since the boy is big and you'd never get used to his size. You manage to get halfway in, starting to move slowly, going up and down, gradually speeding up. You stop moving a few times when he moves or let out a few sighs, preventing him from waking up, but you soon return to bouncing on his cock.

You feel his cock deep in your sensitive pussy, even though it's only halfway in. The heat in your stomach grows, and the rush of your approaching orgasm makes you pull your shirt over your head, taking it off, and speeding up your movements even more. The wet liquid that leaks from your pussy makes you descend further and further on his shaft. You grab your breasts, caressing the sensitive nipples, and you close your eyes feeling your climax approaching. But your movements are impeded when Baku's arms grab you, pulling your body to his chest. He digs his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips upward, fucking you hard and deep. You scream, feeling his cock abuse your needy pussy.

–What a naughty girl, fucking yourself on my cock like a toy. – He whispers lowly in your ear.

You feel his tip repeatedly hit your cervix.

You feel full and confused, unable to do anything but accept what he gives you. That warm sensation quickly approaches, and you come on his cock, clenching and writhing wildly as he continues to fuck you violently. But then he stops, and you're drowsy and almost dozing on his chest. But you wake up when he lifts you off him, placing you face down on the mattress, climbing on top of him. You turn your head, trying to see what he's going to do, but he stops you by placing his hand on your head, pushing you back down. He spreads your legs, fitting himself between them, grabbing your hips and pulling them up slightly before thrusting his cock sharply into your entrance, already beginning a devastating rhythm.

You roll your eyes, feeling overly sensitive. Your body jerks with the boy's strong thrusts. The headboard bangs against the wall, and your breasts rub against the sheets, making the pleasure intensify.

–If you were needy for my cock, you just had to tell me, my love! – He strokes your back.

Baku's hand moves down to your stomach, smiling before taking your hand and placing it there. You feel the bulge his cock makes against your belly.

– Look, I'm making you swell again. – He leans closer to your ear, whispering, and when he does, the angle changes and you feel his cock deeper. – You love it, don't you?

You roll your eyes and nod quickly, letting out meaningless murmurs. You feel that wave of pleasure approaching, but you lose it when you hear the front door open. Baku's father had arrived, and you couldn't make a sound. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he holds you tightly, simply covering your mouth with his large hand, pressing the side of his face against yours.

– Be quiet, or he'll find out what we're doing! – He whispers before thrusting again quickly.

You struggle to keep quiet, even though Baku's hand does the heavy lifting. You hear him breathe heavily in your ear, making your eyes roll back. You try not to scream, but it's very difficult with his cock hitting that exact spot in your pussy, and you clench tightly.

– You're such a little slut, squeezing me and moaning like a whore even though my father is in the next room, – He teases. – You're such a dirty slut. My little slut!

You feel your stomach tighten and you come hard, causing drops of pleasure to leak out and soak the sheets. Your eyes roll back and you cry. Your body trembles and arches.

Your senses are jumbled. Your ears ring and your vision darkens as you feel the jets of Baku's sperm deep inside you, filling your womb, making you feel warm.

You're so comfortable and sleepy that you don't even realize it when you whisper "I love you" to Baku.

He smiles and lays his body against yours, trying not to put all his weight on you, whispering, "I love you, princess."

– I really changed your mind!