niel :b

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 ✦

You are going to die.

This is not a dramatic statement. This is simply the truth, the same way the sky is blue or the rent is due or the loan sharks have been calling your phone every hour for the past three weeks. You are twenty-one years old, you are drowning in debt you will never repay, and you are sitting on the edge of your bathtub with a gun in your lap that cost you the last of your cash and most of your dignity.

The bathroom light flickers. It's been doing that for months. You never fixed it. Why would you? You weren't planning to be here long enough for it to matter.

Your phone buzzes on the sink. Another text from a number you've memorized but never saved.

"We know you're home. Pay what you owe or we take fingers this time."

You turn the phone facedown. Your fingers ache. Two of them healed crooked from the last warning.

You press the barrel to your temple. The metal is cold. You didn't expect it to be cold. You expected it to feel like nothing, the way everything else has felt like nothing for months now.

Your finger finds the trigger. You close your eyes.

You think: I'm sorry.

You think: I don't even know who I'm apologizing to.

You pull the trigger. And everything stops. Not in the way you expected. Not the white light or the rushing tunnel or the life flashing before your eyes. No. The world simply... pauses. The flickering bathroom light freezes mid-flicker, stuck between on and off, casting the room in a strange half-glow. The drip from the leaky faucet hangs suspended. And the gun doesn't fire.

You pull the trigger again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. You pull it three more times in rapid succession, your breath coming faster now, panic replacing resignation, because you can't even do this right, you can't even die properly-

"That's really not going to work."

The voice comes from somewhere to your left. Somewhere that should not contain a voice, because your bathroom is approximately the size of a broom closet and you are very definitely alone in it. Or you were. You should be.

You turn your head slowly, the gun still pressed to your temple, and find yourself staring at a tear in reality. That's the only way to describe it. The air beside your shower has split open, and through the gap spills light that is somehow both gold and pink at the same time, and standing in the middle of this impossibility is a young man who looks approximately your age and approximately like he's never had a bad day in his entire life.

He's wearing what appears to be some kind of uniform, dark fabric, sharp lines, an emblem you don't recognize embroidered on the collar, but he's wearing it wrong, top button undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows and tie hanging loose.

He smiles at you. It's the kind of smile that knows exactly how charming it is. "Hi," he says. "You're not hallucinating."

"I'm definitely hallucinating," you say. Your voice comes out hoarse. When was the last time you spoke to another person? Two days? Three? "This is a hallucination. I'm having a mental break. That's fine. That tracks."

The young man steps out of the tear in reality and into your bathroom. The portal doesn't close behind him. It just hovers there. "You're not hallucinating," he repeats. He reaches out and plucks the gun from your hands. "This is real. I'm real. The portal is real. And you're not dead, which I feel like we should focus on right now."

You stare at him. You stare at the portal. You stare at your empty hands, which are trembling. "I pulled the trigger," you say.

"You did."

"It didn't work."

"I stopped it."

"You stopped it."

"Time, mostly. Just this room. Just for a minute." He says this like it's a minor inconvenience, like he's explaining how he fixed a leaky faucet. "The bullet will resume its trajectory if I let go, so I'd appreciate it if you'd step away from the line of fire before I do."

You look down. There is a bullet hanging in the air six inches from your head. Frozen. Motionless You slide off the bathtub edge and press yourself against the opposite wall. Your legs don't feel like legs. The young man waves his hand. The bullet drops to the floor with a small tink. Time resumes. The light flickers properly. The faucet drips. The tear in reality stays exactly where it is.

"There," he says pleasantly. "Crisis averted. You're welcome, by the way."

"Who," you manage, "the hell are you?"

He places a hand over his heart, mock-offended. "I'm hurt. I go through all this effort to save your life and that's the tone you take?" Then he drops the act and grins. "My name is Sunoo. You're Y/N. Well, you're a Y/N. One of them. There are more than you'd think, actually. Infinite universes, infinite variations. Most of you are very boring, but you-" He points at you. "You're interesting."

You slide down the wall until you're sitting on the bathroom floor. "I don't understand anything you're saying," you tell him.

"That's fair." Sunoo crouches down to your level. He's still smiling, but something in his expression shifts. Softens. It's almost convincing. "Let me start over. You were about to do something permanent. I'm here to offer you an alternative."

"What kind of alternative?"

"The kind where you don't die and instead get a new life, a new identity, and a purpose." He tilts his head. "Also there's magic. And an academy. And you might have to kill someone. But we can get to that part later."

You stare at him. The gun is on the floor between you. Neither of you reaches for it. "Magic," you repeat.

"Magic."

"Academy."

"Academy."

"Killing someone."

"Allegedly. It's more of a long-term goal than an immediate requirement."

You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. When you open them, he's still there. The portal is still there. The bullet is still on the floor. You are still alive, which was not the plan five minutes ago. "Okay," you say, because what else do you say to the impossible when it shows up in your bathroom? "Explain."

Sunoo explains. He explains it slowly, patiently, like he's talking to a child or a particularly skittish animal. There is a world called Emperion. It runs on magic drawn from sin, anger, greed, pride, all the worst parts of human nature, harvested and weaponized. In this world, there was another version of you. A wealthy, powerful, deeply unpleasant version of you who attended an elite magical academy and made a lot of enemies and one very bad decision.

"She made a deal with something she shouldn't have," Sunoo says. "A deity outside the sanctioned seven. Tristitia. The Sorrow. It gave her power, and then it took her life. Or rather, a witch took her life. Working for Tristitia. The details are messy."

"Messy how?"

"Messy in the sense that I don't fully know them." He says this lightly, but his eyes flick away for just a moment. "I was there when she died. It happened fast. One moment she was casting, the next she was-" He makes a vague gesture. "Not casting. Very permanently not casting."

You're still on the floor. Your legs have gone numb. "And you want me to replace her."

"I want you to be her. There's a difference." He stands up and offers you his hand. "She's dead. No one knows except me. If you take her place, you get her life, her room, her status, her spot at the Academy. All you have to do is pretend to be her and help me find the witch who killed her."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care who killed her?"

Something flickers across Sunoo's face. It might be grief. It might be guilt. It might be neither. With him, it's hard to tell.

"She was my best friend," he says. "Is that enough of a reason?"

You don't know if you believe him. But you also don't know if it matters. You're sitting on a bathroom floor with a bullet on the tiles and a portal to another universe hovering beside your shower. Your options are limited. They've been limited for a long time.

"What if I say no?"

Sunoo shrugs. "Then I leave. Time resumes its normal flow. The bullet stays on the floor. You're back exactly where you started, with exactly the same options you had before I arrived." He pauses. "I won't stop you a second time, if that's what you're asking. I'm offering you a choice, not a prison sentence."

You look at the gun. You look at the portal. You think about the loan sharks and the hospital bills and the two crooked fingers that ache every time you try to move them. You think about the silence that has followed you since you were fifteen years old, since your parents died and left you with nothing but a cramped apartment and a stack of unpaid bills and the slow realization that no one was coming to save you.

But someone did come, didn't they? Someone just walked through a hole in reality and offered you an escape. Not a savior. A deal. "Is it dangerous?" you ask.

"Extremely."

"Am I going to die?"

"Possibly. But not tonight. Tonight you'll be safe."

You take his hand. His palm is warm. You didn't expect that. "Okay," you say. "I'm in."

Sunoo's smile returns, brighter this time. "Wonderful. Now for the unpleasant part."

"The unpleasant part?"

"The switch."

He doesn't explain what "the switch" means. He just raises his hand and makes a gesture like he's turning a page in a book, and suddenly there's a body on your bathroom floor.

Not just any body. Your body.

It's you. The other you. The dead one. She's wearing the same uniform as Sunoo, dark fabric and sharp lines and an emblem on the collar. Her hair is the same as yours. Her face is the same as yours. But she's paler, and her lips are slightly blue, and she's very, very dead.

You stumble backward. Your hip bangs against the sink. "What the fuck."

"Language."

"What the actual…why is there a…where did you-"

"I retrieved her from where I've been keeping her preserved. Temporal stasis. Very useful." Sunoo says this like he's discussing meal prep. "She needs to be found here. In your world. If she just disappears from Emperion, people will ask questions. So we're leaving her body in your apartment, staged to look like she's you, and then you're coming with me."

"You want me to just-" You gesture wildly at the corpse. "Leave a dead body in my apartment?"

"It's not your apartment anymore. You're not coming back." Sunoo is already crouching beside the body, adjusting her position with unsettling gentleness. "She'll be found. She'll be identified as you. Your debts will die with her. Your loan sharks will move on. You, meanwhile, will be in another world entirely, attending a prestigious academy and sleeping in a much nicer bed."

You want to argue. You want to point out all the ways this is insane. But you find yourself watching his hands as he aRranges the other you's hair, and you can't stop thinking about how strange it is to see yourself from the outside. She looks peaceful. You've never looked peaceful. You've always looked tired.

"Did she suffer?" you ask quietly.

Sunoo's hands pause. "No," he says. "It was very fast."

You don't know if he's lying. You decide it doesn't matter. "Okay," you say. "Let's do this before I change my mind."

Sunoo stands and offers you his hand again. "Hold on tight. First-time travel can be disorienting."

You take his hand. His fingers close around yours. The portal pulses once, twice, and then the world dissolves.

Teleportation, as it turns out, feels like being turned inside out and then right-side in again, but very quickly, and with a lot more colors than you've ever seen before. Your stomach lurches. Your vision whites out. For a single, horrible moment, you feel like you're falling in every direction at once.

Then your feet hit solid ground, and you're somewhere else entirely.

You stumble, and Sunoo catches your elbow. "Easy. It passes."

You want to tell him you're fine, but you're too busy staring at everything. You're standing in what appears to be a dormitory hallway, but it's like no dormitory you've ever seen. And the window at the end of the hallway shows a sky that is definitely, absolutely, not the sky you grew up under. It's purple. Deep purple, scattered with more stars than you've ever seen. And the moon-

"There are two moons," you say. Your voice comes out faint.

"Yes," Sunoo says. "Selene and Noctis. The sisters. They've been chasing each other across the sky for ten thousand years."

"Chasing each other?"

"It's a myth. I'll tell you later." He's already steering you down the hallway. "Keep your voice down. Most students are asleep, but some of them have very good hearing."

"What species has very good hearing?"

"Werewolves, mostly. Vampires. Shapeshifters in bat form. The occasional paranoid elf." He counts them off on his fingers. "Oh, and the Hypogean, but they don't sleep, so they don't count."

You have no idea what a Hypogean is. You're not sure you want to know. You let him guide you down the hallway, past identical doors with nameplates you can't read. "Is the whole world like this?" you ask.

"Nocthaven is special. It's the only territory under perpetual night. The rest of Emperion has a normal day-night cycle." Sunoo pauses in front of a door. "This is mine."

The nameplate reads: Kim Sunoo - Goat Hall. The emblem beside it is a goat with curling horns.

"Goat Hall," you read aloud.

"It's the Lust dormitory."

You stare at him.

"I'm an incubus," he adds, as if this explains everything. Which, given the context, it sort of does.

"Of course you are," you mutter.

Sunoo grins and pushes the door open. "Come in. We have a lot to cover and not much time before morning."

His room is exactly what you would expect from someone who introduced themselves by stopping time and stealing a corpse. It's large, larger than your entire apartment, with silk sheets on the bed, candles that light themselves as you enter, and a balcony that overlooks the Academy grounds. You stand in the center of the room, not sure where to put yourself. Sunoo gestures at a velvet armchair.

"Sit. You look like you're about to collapse."

You sit. The chair is too comfortable. You hate it a little. "The other me," you say. "The dead one. Tell me about her."

Sunoo settles onto the edge of his bed, crossing one leg over the other. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything. If I'm going to pretend to be her, I need to know everything."

"She's human," he begins. "That's important. Most of the elite students at the Academy are something more, vampires, demons, elves. She was fully mortal, which made her talent even more impressive. Or infuriating, depending on who you ask."

"What was she like?"

Sunoo considers this. "Cold. Confident. Kind of a bitch if you ask me. She was the top of our class without seeming to try. People admired her or hated her. There wasn't much middle ground."

"That's not very helpful. What did she like? What did she do? How did she treat people?"

"She treated people like furniture," Sunoo says frankly. "She was not a nice person, Y/N. I know it's weird to speak ill of the dead, but you should know what you're stepping into. She was my best friend, and I loved her, and she was also a nightmare."

This is not comforting. "Great. So I'm replacing a nightmare."

"You're replacing a nightmare and you need to convince everyone you're still her. Which means you need to be cold and confident and kind of mean, at least at first." He tilts his head, studying you. "Can you do that?"

You think about the loan sharks. You think about the way you learned to make yourself small, to avoid eye contact, to apologize for things that weren't your fault. The opposite of cold and confident. The opposite of mean. "I don't know," you admit.

"You'll learn." He says it like it's a guarantee. "Now. Magic."

"Magic."

"The old Y/N had no defined sin affinity."

You frown. "What does that mean?"

"Most sinners have a natural pull toward one of the seven sin categories by the time they reach adolescence. It's like-" He pauses, searching for his words. "It's like a calling. A resonance. You feel drawn to a particular type of magic the way some people feel drawn to music or art. The old Y/N never felt that pull. She was completely neutral. It's rare. It's also why she was so powerful. She could theoretically access any of the seven."

"But she couldn't?"

"She was still waiting for her affinity to manifest. Most students have theirs by sixteen at the latest. She was twenty. It was a point of... frustration for her. One of the reasons she made that deal with Tristitia." Sunoo's expression darkens briefly. "She was tired of waiting."

You digest this. "So I'm supposed to have no magic?"

"For now. But here's the thing." He leans forward. "You're not her. You're from another universe. Your soul is different. Exposure to Emperion might trigger an affinity in you that she never had. Or it might not. We won't know until we know."

"How do we find out?"

"We wait. You should feel it eventually, if it's going to happen. A pull. A resonance. Something that feels like-" He gestures vaguely. "Like coming home."

You sit in the too-comfortable chair and try to feel something. Anything. A pull, a resonance, a sense of coming home. You close your eyes and reach out with whatever internal sense you're supposed to have.

Nothing.

Just the vague nausea of teleportation and the lingering shock of not being dead. "I don't feel anything," you say.

Sunoo's brow furrows. "Nothing at all?"

"Nothing."

"That's..." He trails off. "Weird. Usually Dimensionals start feeling the resonance within hours of arrival. Your soul should be reacting to the ambient sin energy by now."

"Is that bad?"

"I don't know." He doesn't sound happy about this. "It might mean your affinity will take longer to develop. It might mean you don't have one at all. It might mean something else entirely." He waves a hand. "We'll figure it out. For now, the important thing is that no one finds out you're not her."

"How do I explain not knowing things I should know?"

"Head injury." Sunoo says it immediately, like he's already thought this through. "The mission where she died…where she was supposed to have died involved a confrontation with a witch. We'll say she took a magical blow to the head. It affected her memory. It's not uncommon. Sloppy spellwork can scramble things. People will believe it because they'll want to believe it. No one likes the alternative explanation."

"The alternative explanation being that I'm an imposter from another dimension?"

"Exactly. Which you can never, ever tell anyone." His voice loses its playful tone. He is suddenly, startlingly serious. "Dimensional travelers are rare, Y/N. They're studied. Dissected. The Academy would love to get their hands on someone from a non-magical universe. You'd spend the rest of your life in a research cell. Do you understand?"

You swallow. "I understand."

"Good." The playfulness returns, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll tell you everything else you need to know step by step. There's no point overwhelming you tonight. Tomorrow, we'll start with the basics. The Academy layout. The other students. The professors. What classes you're supposed to be taking." He stands up. "For now, you should sleep."

"Here?"

"Where else?"

"In your room?"

"It's fine. The old Y/N stayed over all the time." He says this casually, already moving toward his closet. "We had an arrangement."

You feel your face do something complicated. "An arrangement."

"Mutually beneficial." He pulls out a spare blanket and tosses it to you. "We slept together. It wasn't romantic. Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything."

"You're looking at me like I just confessed to murder."

"You did confess to stealing a corpse!"

"That was retrieval. Very different." He drapes himself across his bed. "Look, the old Y/N and I were close. We were friends. We were also both attractive and bored and neither of us had any interest in emotional attachment. It worked for us. If people think we're still doing that, it gives you an excuse to spend time with me. And you need to spend time with me, because I'm the only one who knows your secret."

This is, unfortunately, logical. You hate it. "Fine," you say. "But I'm sleeping in the chair."

"Suit yourself. The bed is big enough for two."

"I'm sleeping in the chair."

"Your loss."

You wrap the blanket around yourself and curl up in the velvet armchair. "Weird," you whisper to yourself. "Everything is so weird."

Sunoo has already closed his eyes. His breathing is slow and even. You don't know if he's actually asleep or just pretending. With him, it's impossible to tell.

You don't sleep. You can't. Every time you close your eyes, you see the other you's face, pale and peaceful on your bathroom floor. You see the bullet hanging in the air. You see the portal. You hear Sunoo's voice: She was not a nice person. She was my best friend, and she was also a nightmare.

You think about the fact that you are, technically, dead. Y/N died tonight in a cramped bathroom.

But eventually, despite everything, your body gives up. Your eyes grow heavy. And you dream. You are in a garden.

Not the Academy grounds. Something else. Somewhere else. The garden is vast and formal. Roses climb trellises made of bone-white wood. The flowers are red. So red they're almost black. The sky above you is neither purple nor blue. It's gray. Featureless.

You walk down a path of crushed white stone. The roses watch you. You can't explain how you know they're watching, but they are. Their petals turn to follow your movement. The path ends at a fountain. The water in the fountain is black. Not dirty. Just black, like ink, like oil. It reflects nothing.

"Do you like my garden?"

The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. It is not a voice so much as the memory of a voice, the impression of sound pressed directly into your mind. It is cold. It is very, very interested in you. You turn. There is nothing behind you. There is nothing anywhere, except the roses and the fountain and the gray sky.

"I asked you a question."

"I-" Your voice echoes strangely. "Who are you?"

A pause. The roses rustle, though there is no wind. "Disappointing," the voice says. "You're not her. You're wearing her shape, but you're not her. The contract was with her. Not you."

"Contract?"

"The Sorrow remembers its own. You are not its own." A sigh, like stone grinding against stone. "I will have to start over. How inconvenient."

The roses burst into flame. Not real flame, black fire that consumes without heat. The petals curl and blacken. The bone-white trellises crack. The crushed stone path turns to ash beneath your feet. The fountain boils, and the black water rises, and the voice speaks one last time:

"Find me anyway. Perhaps you'll be more useful than she was."

You wake up. You're still in the chair. The blanket is tangled around your legs. The candles in Sunoo's room have burned down to stubs. Outside, the purple sky has lightened slightly, taking on a grayish tinge. Dawn, or whatever passes for dawn in a land without sun.

Sunoo is sitting up in bed, watching you. His expression is unreadable. "You were talking in your sleep," he says.

You press a hand to your chest. Your heart is pounding. "I had a dream. There was a garden. Roses. A voice."

"A voice."

"It said I wasn't the real contractor. It said-" You struggle to remember the exact words. "The Sorrow remembers its own. I am not its own."

Sunoo goes very still. "That's Tristitia," he says quietly. "That's the deity she made the deal with. It spoke to you."

"It wasn't happy."

"No. It wouldn't be." He swings his legs over the side of the bed, suddenly all business. "This complicates things."

"What things?"

"Everything." He stands up and crosses to the window, looking out at the impossible sky. "Tristitia doesn't let go of contracts easily. If it knows you're not her, it might come looking for answers. Or payment. Or just to express its displeasure."

"Can it hurt me?"

"I don't know. Probably. Eventually." He turns back to you, and his smile is back. "But that's a problem for later. Right now, we have a more immediate concern."

"What?"

"Breakfast." He tosses you a folded uniform from his closet. It's identical to the one he's wearing. "Put this on. You have a reputation to maintain, and mean girls don't skip meals."

You catch the uniform. It's heavier than it looks. You stare down at the emblem on the collar, the crest you don't recognize, the colors you've never worn.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can still smell the burning roses. Find me anyway, the voice said. Perhaps you'll be more useful than she was. You don't know what that means. You don't know what any of this means. But you're here now, in a world with two moons and purple skies and seven kinds of sin magic, wearing a dead girl's clothes and carrying a dead girl's secrets.

And breakfast, apparently, waits for no one. "Alright," you say. "Let's go."

Sunoo grins. "That's the spirit."

You're not sure it is. But it's the only spirit you've got.

The uniform fits perfectly. This is unsettling for several reasons. First, because it means the dead girl really was identical to you in every physical way, down to the exact measurements of your shoulders and the precise length of your legs. Second, because the uniform itself is clearly expensive in a way you've never experienced, the fabric is soft and heavy and probably costs more than your monthly rent. Third, and most disturbing, because when you look at yourself in Sunoo's full-length mirror, you don't see yourself at all.

You see her.

The old Y/N stares back at you with your eyes. She wears the dark uniform with casual elegance, the emblem on her collar catching the candlelight. Her hair falls exactly the way yours does, but somehow it looks intentional on her. Like she woke up this morning and decided to be beautiful, and her body simply obeyed.

You lean closer to the mirror. Your reflection leans closer too. You try to find something in her expression that looks like you, the girl who worked double shifts at a convenience store, the girl who ate instant noodles for dinner six nights a week, the girl who sat on a bathtub with a gun in her lap and didn't die.

She's not there. Or maybe you're not here. Maybe you're both somewhere in between.

"You're making a weird face," Sunoo says from behind you.

"I'm practicing my mean face."

"That's your constipated face. Very different."

You turn away from the mirror. Sunoo is already dressed, which seems unfair given that you didn't see him change. He's leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching you with an expression that might be amusement or might be assessment.

"How do I look?" you ask.

"Like her." He says it simply, without flattery or comfort. "Your posture is wrong, though. She stood straight and confident. You stand like you're apologizing for taking up space."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. That's exactly what I mean."

You straighten your spine. Pull your shoulders back. Lift your chin. It feels ridiculous. It feels like wearing someone else's bones.

"Better," Sunoo says. "Still not right. But better. We'll work on it."

"Can we just go to breakfast? I'm starving."

"Just remember-" He opens the door and gestures for you to follow. "You're not the new girl. You're the old girl. You've been here for years. You own this place. Everyone else is beneath you."

"I thought you said she was a nightmare."

"She was. But she was their nightmare. They respected her for it." He flashes you a grin over his shoulder. "Fear and respect are the same thing in this academy. Remember that."

You follow him into the hallway. A group of students passes you in the hallway. They're younger than you, first or second years, probably, and the moment they see your face, something changes in their expressions. Eyes widen. Postures straighten. One of them actually stops mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open slightly.

"Morning," you say, because you don't know what else to say.

The students exchange glances. One of them, a girl with pointed ears and silver hair, clearly an elf manages a nervous nod.

"Good morning, Lady Y/N," she says. Her voice is slightly shaky. "We heard you were injured on your last mission. We're glad to see you recovered."

Lady Y/N. You have a title. Of course you have a title.

"It was nothing," you say, channeling every mean girl you've ever seen in a movie. You let your voice go flat. Dismissive. "A scratch."

The students don't question this. They just nod rapidly and hurry past, their whispers trailing behind them like smoke. You keep walking. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your teeth.

"That was good," Sunoo murmurs. "The it was nothing was a nice touch. Very her."

"Who calls someone 'Lady'?"

"You do. Well, you don't. But people call you that. Your family is nobility. Old blood. Lots of money. I probably should have mentioned that earlier."

"You think?"

"Shh. More students."

Another group rounds the corner. These ones are older, your age, maybe, or close to it. Their reactions are more subtle but no less noticeable. Conversations pause. Eyes track your movement. One boy with dark hair and distinctly wolfish features actually flattens himself against the wall to let you pass.

You don't know whether to be flattered or horrified. "Do they always do this?" you whisper.

"Always. She was the top of the food chain. Everyone else is just trying not to get eaten."

"Great. No pressure."

You reach the end of the hallway and descend a spiral staircase that seems to go on forever.

The dining hall is at the bottom of the stairs. It's massive, far larger than you expected, with vaulted ceilings supported by pillars carved to look like the seven animals of the sins. A peacock pillar. A lion pillar. A pig, a toad, a goat, a snake, and a snail, all rendered in dark wood that gleams in the candlelight.

The tables are arranged by dorm affiliation. You can tell by the banners hanging above each section: the peacock for Pride, the lion for Wrath, the pig for Gluttony. Students cluster together in their respective groups, and the room hums with the low murmur of conversation and the clink of silverware.

Sunoo guides you toward the Goat section with a hand on your lower back. His touch is light, familiar. You realize with a start that he's performing, that this is what the old Y/N and Sunoo looked like together. Intimate. Comfortable. Two people who shared more than friendship.

You try not to stiffen under his hand. "Relax," he breathes. "You're doing fine."

"I haven't done anything yet."

"Exactly. Keep doing nothing. Nothing is very in-character for her."

The Goat table is populated by students who all share Sunoo's particular brand of effortless beauty. Incubi and succubi, mostly, though you spot a few humans and what might be a siren based on the faint iridescence of her skin. They greet Sunoo with casual waves and lazy smiles. They greet you with something closer to wariness.

Sunoo steers you to a seat at the end of the table, slightly apart from the others. A plate of food materializes in front of you the moment you sit down. You stare at it.

The food is... not what you expected.

The main dish appears to be some kind of meat, but it's faintly blue and glistening. The side dishes include something that looks like purple mashed potatoes studded with silver seeds, and a bread roll that appears to be steaming, except the steam is going downward instead of up. The drink in your goblet is clear, but when you tilt it, the liquid moves in slow motion.

"This is breakfast?" you ask.

"Welcome to Emperion cuisine," Sunoo says cheerfully. "The blue thing is moonhare. It's a delicacy. The purple mash is starroot. The bread is…well, it's bread. Mostly. And the drink is crystallized dawn mist. Very refreshing."

"Refreshing."

"Try it."

You pick up your fork. The moonhare quivers slightly. You cut a small piece and lift it to your mouth. It tastes like someone liquefied a dream and then added salt. You swallow convulsively. Your throat tries to reject it. You manage to keep It down through the knowledge that vomiting at breakfast would probably not be in-character for the old Y/N.

"Good?" Sunoo asks innocently.

"Delicious," you manage. Your voice comes out strangled.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I know. I'm working on it."

You push the moonhare around your plate and focus on the bread instead. The bread, at least, tastes like bread. Normal bread. You tear off pieces and chew slowly while Sunoo launches into what you quickly realize is a prepared lecture.

"The Academy operates on a term system," he says, his voice low enough that the other students can't hear. "Eight terms per year. Each term is four weeks. You've already completed six terms of your third year, which means you have two terms left before the final assessments."

"What are the final assessments?"

"Combat trials. Academic examinations. And the Selection." He pauses. "The Selection is the most important part. It's when the Imperial Division chooses the next seven Deadly Sins. You’re possibly one of the seven."

"One of the seven."

"Obviously. You're one of the strongest sinners in the Academy." He says this matter-of-factly. "Or you were. Before you died. But I don’t think the old Y/N would have go for the Imperial Division, that’s not her style at all."

"Great. No pressure. Again."

"Your schedule is as follows: Sin Theory in the morning, taught by Professor Vex. She's a demon. Don't make eye contact for too long. Then Combat Training with Professor Thornwood, he's a Graveborn, very stern, hates tardiness. Then Basic Hexes and Curses after lunch, which is taught by Professor Willowisp. She's an elf, she's been alive for nine hundred years, and she will know if you haven't done the reading."

"I can't do any of those things."

"You can't do them yet. That's what the extra lessons are for." He spears a piece of moonhare and eats it without flinching. "After classes, I'll teach you the basics. What you should already know. We'll start with magical theory and work our way up to practical application."

"And if I can't learn?"

"Then we're both in trouble." He says it lightly, but his eyes are serious. "This isn't a game, Y/N. If people find out you're not her, it's not just embarrassment. It's dangerous. For both of us."

"I know."

"Do you? Because you keep making jokes."

"I make jokes when I'm terrified. It's a coping mechanism."

Sunoo studies you for a moment. Then his expression softens, just slightly. "Fair enough. Just be careful. Not everyone here is as forgiving as me."

"Are you forgiving?"

"No," he admits. "But I'm on your side. That's almost the same thing."

You're not sure it is. But before you can argue, a voice cuts across the dining hall.

"Y/N!"

The voice is loud and warm. You turn toward it and see a young man weaving through the tables toward you. He's mortal. You can tell immediately, though you're not sure how, something about the way he moves, the way his eyes are just eyes. He has brown hair that flops across his forehead and a smile that takes up his entire face and arms that are already reaching for you before he's even close enough to touch.

"Y/N! You're back! I heard you got hurt and I was so worried and Sunoo wouldn't tell me anything and I thought-" He reaches your table and pulls you into a hug without breaking stride. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

You go rigid. His arms are around you, warm and solid and completely unexpected. He smells like something sweet, honey, maybe, or vanilla. You have no idea who he is. Your arms stay at your sides. Your spine locks up. Your brain, which has been handling the morning's challenges with surprising competence, decides to shut down. You stand there, frozen, while a stranger hugs you like you're his favorite person in the world.

"Um," you say.

The young man pulls back. His smile flickers. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

Say something. Do something. Be mean. Be cold. That's what she would do.

"I'm fine," you manage. "Just tired."

He doesn't look convinced. "Are you sure? You seem..."

"She's recovering," Sunoo cuts in smoothly. He's suddenly at your side, his hand on your elbow. "Magical injury. It's affected her memory a bit. She's still getting her bearings."

"Memory?" The young man's expression shifts to concern. "How bad is it?"

"Nothing permanent. Just some gaps. She'll be fine in a few days." Sunoo's voice is perfectly casual. "Right, Y/N?"

"Right," you echo. "Gaps. Temporary. No big deal."

The young man looks between you and Sunoo. His brow furrows. "You're being weird. Both of you."

"We're always weird," Sunoo says. "Jake, don't you have somewhere to be? Don't you have…what is it you do…eating? Don't you have eating to do?"

Jake. His name is Jake. You file this away frantically.

"I was eating. Then I saw Y/N and came over to say hi." Jake crosses his arms. "Is that a crime now?"

"Technically, yes. New Academy rule. No saying hi to Y/N without written permission."

"There's no such rule."

"I'm proposing it. I have connections."

While they bicker, you study Jake. He's wearing the emblem of the pig on his collar, Gluttony, the Gula dorm. He's mortal, which is rare among the elite students. And he knows you. He knows you well enough to hug you in public, well enough to notice when you're acting strange, well enough to look at you with those worried eyes and make you feel like the worst person in the world for deceiving him.

"We should get to class," Sunoo says abruptly. "Jake, we'll catch up later. Y/N needs to-"

"Wait." Jake reaches out and touches your arm. His hand is warm. "Y/N. If something's wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right? We've known each other since we were kids. You can always tell me."

Childhood friends. This man was the old Y/N's childhood friend. "I know," you say quietly. "Thank you, Jake."

His smile returns, smaller this time but real. "Okay. Good. Come find me later? I missed you."

"I will."

He squeezes your arm once and then heads back to his table, where a plate piled high with food waits for him. You watch him go and feel like the worst kind of fraud.

"Come on," Sunoo murmurs. "Before anyone else decides to check on you."

He pulls you out of the dining hall and into a side corridor. The moment you're out of sight of the other students, you slump against the wall and press your hands to your face.

"That was awful."

"That was fine."

"He knew something was wrong. He could tell."

"Jake always knows. He's perceptive in ways people don't expect." Sunoo's voice is thoughtful. "But he doesn't know what he's perceiving. He just knows something's different. We can work with that."

"Who is he?"

"Jake. Gluttony. Pig dorm. Your oldest friend." Sunoo leans against the wall beside you. "Your families were neighbors when you were children. He's known you since before you got into the Academy."

"Great. So he knows the real me better than anyone."

"He knew the real her. Not the real you." Sunoo tilts his head. "That's an important distinction. The girl he grew up with was already on her way to becoming the nightmare. You're not her. You're something else entirely."

"A worse liar."

"True. But maybe a better person." He pushes off the wall. "Come on. We have time before your first class. I should show you around."

"Wasn't my first class like twenty minutes ago?"

"I told Professor Vex you were still recovering. She was... understanding."

"Understanding? You said she was a demon."

"She is. Demons understand injury. They also understand the importance of appearing strong. She agreed that you shouldn't return to class until you can make a proper entrance." He grins. "See? I'm good at this."

You're not sure if "good at this" means good at lying or good at manipulating demons, but either way, you're grateful. You push yourself off the wall and follow him back into the main corridor.

The Academy tour takes the better part of an hour.

Sunoo shows you everything. The Verity Palace, where most academic classes are held, The Stellar Chamber, an observatory whose ceiling shows a real-time map of the night sky, The library, a multi-story cathedral of books where the shelves rearrange themselves when you're not looking and certain texts are chained to their pedestals with chains that glow faintly red.

"The restricted section is through there," Sunoo says, pointing to an iron gate at the back of the library. "Don't go in without permission. The books bite."

"The books."

"Some of them. Others just scream. It's very distracting."

You file this under "things I wish I'd known before signing up" and keep walking.

The greenhouse is next. It's a massive glass dome filled with plants that move. Some of them turn toward you as you pass, their leaves rustling like whispers. One vine reaches out and tries to grab Sunoo's ankle; he steps over it without breaking stride.

"The Venomous Kiss," he says, gesturing at a flower with petals the color of dried blood. "Beautiful but fatal. Students use it in potions. Carefully."

"What happens if you're not careful?"

"Then you don't make it to graduation."

The tour continues. The Nocturna Dorms, seven buildings arranged in a semicircle around a central courtyard where a fountain sprays water that glows faintly silver. The medical wing, where a harried-looking healer is treating a student whose arm appears to have been temporarily turned into glass. The administrative offices and then the arena.

It's a massive stone amphitheater, open to the purple sky, with tiered seating that could hold the entire student body. The floor is sand, but it's not normal sand, it's darker than it should be, and it shifts occasionally, as if something beneath it is breathing.

And in the center of the arena, a young man is training.

He's tall. Pale. His hair is black as ink and his face is the kind of beautiful that makes your brain skip a beat. He's wearing training clothes instead of the uniform, simple black fabric that clings to his shoulders and arms in ways that seem specifically designed to make thinking difficult. He's holding a sword that appears to be made of crystallized shadow, and he's moving through forms with a precision that is almost hypnotic.

Around the edges of the arena, students have gathered to watch. They're not subtle about it. They're staring openly, whispering to each other, pointing. A few of them are fanning themselves.

"Who is that?" you ask.

"That," Sunoo says, his voice carrying a note of warning, "is Sunghoon. Avaritia. Greed. Your ex-fiancé."

"My what!?"

"Ex-fiancé. You broke up with him last year. Well, the old you did. She said he was boring." Sunoo's tone is carefully neutral. "He's been trying to win her back ever since."

You stare at the young man in the arena. He finishes a particularly complicated sequence, the shadow-sword cutting through the air and pauses. His chest is rising and falling with exertion. His dark hair is slightly mussed. There's a sheen of sweat on his forehead that catches the light from the purple sky and makes him look like a painting come to life.

"Boring," you repeat.

"Her words, not mine."

"She called that boring?"

"Are you okay? You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine. I'm totally fine. I'm just processing the fact that I apparently broke off an engagement with someone who looks like he was carved out of moonlight by a team of very dedicated artists."

Sunoo makes a face. "Please don't romanticize him. It's bad enough that he's been pining for a year. If you start encouraging him-"

In the arena, Sunghoon looks up. His eyes find you instantly, as if he knew exactly where you were standing. As if he always knows where you are. His expression shifts, and a smirk spreads across his face, slow and confident and deeply irritating.

He raises his hand in a wave. And you, operating on pure instinct, raise your hand back. It's small and shy and accompanied by a smile that you didn't give permission to appear.

Sunghoon's smirk falters. His hand freezes mid-wave. His pale cheeks flush slightly, barely noticeable, but you catch it. His eyes widen just a fraction. He looks, for a single moment, completely thrown off balance. Then he recovers, his smirk returning, but it's different now. Softer. Almost uncertain.

You realize what you've done. "Oh no," you whisper.

"Yeah," Sunoo says. He grabs your arm and starts dragging you away from the arena. "Oh no is right."

He pulls you around a corner and into an empty corridor. The moment you're out of sight, he rounds on you with an expression somewhere between exasperation and horror. "What was that?"

"I waved!"

"You waved. You did not just wave. You did a whole thing. You did a shy little wave with a shy little smile and he blushed, Y/N. I have known Sunghoon for three years and I have never seen him blush. He doesn't have enough blood flow for blushing. He's a Graveborn. He's technically dead."

"It was an accident! I panicked! He waved first!"

"Waved? Waved? He was being arrogant. You were supposed to ignore him. That's what the old you would have done. She would have looked at him like he was a piece of furniture and then walked away."

"I don't know how to do that!"

"Clearly."

You press your back against the corridor wall. "I'm going to mess this up. I'm going to mess everything up. I can't do this."

Sunoo sighs, his expression shifting from exasperation to something closer to sympathy.

 "You can do this," he says. "You just need to be more careful. Sunghoon is…he's intense. He loved her. The old her. He loved her even when she was cruel to him. If he thinks she's suddenly become soft-"

"Maybe that's a good thing? Maybe people will think she changed after the injury?"

"Maybe. Or maybe they'll think something else happened. Something worse." Sunoo's eyes are serious. "There are people at this Academy who would love to find a weakness in you. In her. If they think you're vulnerable, they'll exploit it."

"So what do I do?"

"You learn. You adapt. And you stop waving at your ex-fiancé like you're in a romance novel."

You groan and drop your head into your hands. "Who is he, anyway? You said ex-fiancé. Why were we engaged?"

"Your families arranged it when you were children. Noble politics. Sunghoon's family is old money, older than yours, actually. The engagement was meant to merge your houses. And then you broke it off because you got bored."

"Bored."

"According to her, he was too sincere. Too devoted. She said it was exhausting being loved that much."

You think about the young man in the arena. The way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. The way your tiny, accidental wave made him blush.

"That's really sad," you say quietly.

"It's also not your problem." Sunoo stands and offers you his hand. "You're not her. You don't have to love him or hate him or anything in between. You just have to avoid making him suspicious."

"What if he already is suspicious?"

"Then we deal with it. But for now…Let's focus on getting through your first day. One disaster at a time."

"I think I've already had three disasters."

"Those were small disasters. Practice disasters. You haven't even met Jay yet."

"Who's Jay?"

Sunoo's smile turns slightly evil. "He hates you. Well, he hated her. He's going to hate you too, but for different reasons."

"What reasons?"

"Because you won't be able to do any of the things she could do. And he's going to notice." Sunoo pats your shoulder. "Good luck."

You stare at him. "I thought you said you were on my side."

"I am. That doesn't mean your life is going to be easy."

You follow him down the corridor, your mind spinning with new information. Jake, the childhood friend who knows you too well. Sunghoon, the ex-fiancé you apparently broke for no reason. And somewhere out there, Jay, the guy who hates you and is about to discover you can't do magic. You've been in this world for less than twelve hours, and you're already exhausted.

"What was the old me even like?" you mutter. "How did she handle all of this?"

Sunoo glances back at you. "She didn't have to handle it. Everyone was either beneath her notice or a tool to be used. She didn't worry about what people thought because she genuinely didn't care."

"That sounds lonely."

"It was. I think that's why she made the deal with Tristitia." His voice goes quiet. "She wanted power because power was the only thing that made her feel safe. And in the end, it killed her."

"I'm not her," you say finally. "I can't be her. I don't know how to be cold and cruel and untouchable."

"No," Sunoo agrees. "You can't. But you can pretend. And maybe-" He pauses, something flickering in his expression. "Maybe pretending will be enough."

You hope he's right. You really, really hope he's right. Because if he's not, you're going to have a lot more problems than expected. 

The rest of the day is a masterclass in improvisation. Your first class, Sin Theory with Professor Vex. Sunoo guides you to the front row before the other students arrive, his hand on your elbow steady.

"The front row?" you hiss. "Why am I in the front row?"

"Because the old Y/N always sat in the front row. She said it was easier to intimidate the professor that way."

"How does sitting in the front row intimidate anyone?"

"Eye contact. Unbroken eye contact. For the entire lecture." Sunoo pats your shoulder. "Good luck."

He retreats to a seat near the back before you can protest. Other students file in, filling the rings around you. You feel their eyes on the back of your head like tiny lasers.  You stare straight ahead. Your spine is rigid. Your face is, you hope, expressionless. The old Y/N wouldn't turn around. The old Y/N wouldn't acknowledge the whispers. The old Y/N would sit here like she owned the room and everyone in it.

Professor Vex enters through a side door.She stops when she sees you. Her black eyes fix on your face. "Lady Y/N," she says. Her voice is like silk. "You've returned."

"Professor Vex." You incline your head slightly. Sunoo told you not to make prolonged eye contact. You make exactly two seconds of eye contact and then look at a point just over her shoulder. "I apologize for my absence."

"No apology necessary. Magical injuries are unpredictable." She moves toward her desk, her robes sweeping the floor. "I trust you've recovered sufficiently?"

"Mostly."

"Good. We were discussing the theoretical foundations of cross-affinity contamination. Perhaps you can enlighten the class on the Terullian Paradox?"

You have no idea what the Terullian Paradox is. You have never heard those words in that order. For all you know, the Terullian Paradox is a type of pastry.

But Sunoo, bless his manipulative heart, prepared for this. "I'm afraid my memory is still... fragmented," you say, exactly as he instructed. "The healer advised against intellectual strain for the first few days of recovery. I'm here to observe and reacquaint myself with the material."

Professor Vex considers this. Her black eyes are unreadable. Then she nods slowly. "Very well. Observation is acceptable. I expect you to catch up on the missed material by next week."

"Of course."

She turns to the rest of the class. "The Terullian Paradox, then. Who can explain it?"

A student in the third row raises her hand. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding.

The lecture continues. You take notes frantically, scribbling down terms you don't understand. Sin magic, you learn, is not just about drawing power from wrongdoing. It's about resonance, the way a sinner's personal sins align with their deity's domain. A wrathful person draws Ira more easily. An envious person channels Vanagloria. The magic shapes the sinner, and the sinner shapes the magic.

It's fascinating. It's also terrifying, because you have no idea what sins you carry or which deity might claim you. If any deity claims you. You still haven't felt the pull Sunoo described. The resonance. The sense of coming home.

The second class is Combat Training with Professor Thornwood. The training ground is an outdoor space adjacent to the arena, covered in the same dark sand that shifts occasionally. Professor Thornwood is a Graveborn, tall and gaunt with hollow cheeks. He speaks in short, clipped sentences and does not appear to be the warmest person (literally).

"Today," he announces, "We practice defensive warding. Partner up. Y/N, you're with me."

You freeze. "Professor?"

"You've been absent. I need to assess what you've retained."

Sunoo, who was already moving toward you, stops in his tracks. His expression flickers with alarm before smoothing into careful neutrality. He catches your eye and mouths something that might be good luck or might be don't die. It's hard to tell.

You walk toward Professor Thornwood. "Defensive ward," Thornwood says. "Basic barrier. Show me."

You raise your hands. You've seen enough movies to know how this is supposed to look. You spread your fingers. You concentrate. You try to feel something, anything, any spark of magic, any pull of sin, any resonance whatsoever.

Nothing happens.

Thornwood waits. The students watch. The dark sand shifts beneath your feet. "Whenever you're ready," Thornwood says.

"I'm-" You lower your hands. "The injury. It's affected my connection. The healer said it might take time."

Thornwood's hollow eyes study you. For a long moment, he says nothing. Then he nods once. "Magical disruption is common after head trauma. We'll focus on physical conditioning instead. Run the perimeter. Ten laps."

The perimeter of the training ground is approximately half a mile. Ten laps is five miles. You haven't run five miles since high school gym class, and even then you walked most of it.

"Of course," you say, because the old Y/N wouldn't complain. The old Y/N would probably run twenty laps just to show off.

You start running. By lap three, your lungs are burning. By lap five, you've developed a stitch in your side that feels like someone is stabbing you with a very small, very persistent knife. By lap seven, you're fairly certain you're going to die a second time, and this death will be even less dignified than the first.

You keep running. The other students have moved on to practicing wards, their barriers shimmering in the air. Sunoo catches your eye as you pass and gives you a sympathetic grimace.

By lap ten, you're barely upright. You stumble to a halt in front of Thornwood, gasping for breath, sweat soaking through your clothes.

"Acceptable," Thornwood says. "We'll work on your stamina. Dismissed."

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and stagger toward the edge of the training ground. Sunoo appears at your side with a flask of water. "That was painful to watch," he says.

"That was painful to do."

"At least he bought the injury excuse."

"Is everyone going to buy the injury excuse?"

"Probably not. But we only need it to work for a few weeks." He hands you the flask. "Drink. You look like you're about to collapse."

You drink. The water tastes faintly of something floral, probably not normal water, probably enchanted or blessed or whatever they do to water in this world but it's cold and wet and you're too exhausted to care.

"Next class is Basic Hexes and Curses," Sunoo says. "Professor Willowisp. She's old, she's observant, and she doesn't like excuses. We need a different strategy."

"What strategy?"

"You're going to have a magical flare-up."

"A what?"

"Magical disruption from head trauma can cause unpredictable bursts of power. It's a documented phenomenon." Sunoo's voice takes on a scholarly tone. "If you accidentally destroy something in class, it'll explain why you can't do anything the rest of the time. Everyone will assume your magic is unstable rather than absent."

"Destroy something."

"Nothing important. A desk. A window. Something dramatic but non-lethal."

"How am I supposed to destroy something if I can't do magic?"

Sunoo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, glass sphere. Inside it, something dark swirls like smoke caught in a bottle.

"Throw this at the ground when I give the signal. It'll create a concussive blast. Very showy. Very convincing."

You take the sphere. It's warm in your palm, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. "Where did you get this?"

"I have a supplier. Don't worry about it." He glances at the sky. "We have ten minutes before class starts. Try not to drop that before then."

Professor Willowisp's classroom is in the Verity Palace, on the third floor. The walls are lined with jars containing things you'd rather not identify. Professor Willowisp herself is ancient. Nine hundred years old, Sunoo said, and she looks every century of it. When she looks at you, you feel like she's reading your thoughts, which is probably not paranoia given that mind-reading magic almost certainly exists in this world.

"Lady Y/N," she says. "You've returned to us."

"I have, Professor."

"How fortunate. We were just beginning our unit on emotional affliction curses. Perhaps you'd care to demonstrate?"

The class goes very quiet. You grip the glass sphere in your pocket. "I'm not sure that's wise, Professor. My magic has been... unstable since the injury."

"Unstable?"

"Fluctuations. The healer warned me." You're getting better at lying. The words come easier now. "I wouldn't want to accidentally harm anyone."

Willowisp's ancient eyes study you. "A considerate concern. However, this classroom is warded against magical accidents. Whatever happens within these walls will be contained."

She's not going to let this go. She wants to see you do magic. She wants to test you. Sunoo catches your eye from across the room. He gives a tiny nod.

Now.

"Very well," you say. "But don't say I didn't warn you." You walk to the front of the classroom. Your heart is hammering. Your palms are sweating. The glass sphere is warm against your fingers. "What curse shall I demonstrate?" you ask, stalling for time.

"The Despondency Hex. A simple emotional affliction. Target the practice dummy." Willowisp gestures to a mannequin in the corner of the room. You position yourself in front of it, your back to the class.

You take a deep breath. You raise your hands dramatically. You make a show of concentrating, your brow furrowing, your fingers trembling with apparent magical effort. Then you "lose control." You throw your hands wide, stumble backward, and hurl the glass sphere at the ground between you and the practice dummy. The sphere shatters. A wave of force erupts from the impact point, sending the practice dummy flying across the room. The windows rattle. The jars on the walls shake. Several students scream. One desk is knocked over.

When the dust settles, you're on the floor, deliberately, because it sells the performance and the practice dummy is in pieces against the far wall. Professor Willowisp is staring at you. Her expression is unreadable.

"I did warn you," you manage.

For a long moment, no one speaks. Then Willowisp's ancient face creases into something that might be a smile. "Fascinating," she says. "A magical flare-up of considerable intensity. You're excused from practical demonstrations until your condition stabilizes. Please observe from the back of the room."

You pick yourself up off the floor. Sunoo helps you to a seat in the back row, his hand steadying your elbow. "Perfect," he whispers. "Absolutely perfect."

"I almost hit the ceiling."

"But you didn't. And now everyone thinks your magic is dangerously unstable. No one will ask you to demonstrate anything for weeks."

"Great." You slump into your seat. "Weeks of pretending to be magically volatile. This is going to be exhausting."

"Welcome to your new life."

After the final class, Sunoo walks you toward the training grounds. "Classes are done for the day, which means we have time for your first real lesson," he says. "Professor Thornwood might have bought your excuse, but you still need to learn basic combat skills. I'll teach you what I can."

"I thought you said we'd start with magical theory."

"We will. But you also need to know how to defend yourself physically. Magic isn't always available. Sometimes you just need to know how to throw a punch."

You've never thrown a punch in your life. You've been punched, the loan sharks' enforcer had a mean left hook but you've never hit anyone back. The idea of learning how feels strange. 

"Wait here," Sunoo says when you reach the training ground. "I need to grab some equipment from storage. Don't talk to anyone."

"Who would I talk to?"

"Anyone. Everyone. You're a magnet for attention. Just stand here and look unapproachable."

He disappears into a nearby building, leaving you alone on the edge of the training ground. You stand there, trying to look unapproachable. It probably looks more like you're constipated.

A shadow falls over you.

"There you are." You turn. Sunghoon is standing behind you, closer than you expected. He's still wearing his training clothes from earlier, though he's added a jacket that makes him look somehow even more put-together. His eyes are fixed on your face with an intensity that makes your stomach do something complicated.

"Sunghoon," you say. Your voice comes out slightly strangled.

"I've been looking for you." He steps closer. You step back. He steps closer again. "You left so quickly this morning. I didn't get a chance to welcome you back properly."

"I was busy. Classes."

"Classes." He says the word like it personally offends him. "You almost die on a mission and your first priority is classes?"

"The old Y/N would have prioritized classes."

"You're the old Y/N." He tilts his head. "Aren't you?"

Danger. Danger. Abort mission.

"Obviously, it’s just sarcasm," you say. "What do you want?"

"What I've always wanted. You." He says it simply, without embarrassment, like he's stating a fact. The sky is purple. The moons are sisters. He wants you. "I've been thinking about us."

"There is no us."

"There was."

"And now there isn't."

"Because you got bored." He doesn't sound angry. He sounds curious. "I've been trying to understand it. You said I was boring. But I remember the way you looked at me. I remember the way you-"

"Sunghoon."

"-responded to me. We were practically married, Y/N. Everyone assumed we'd formalize it eventually. And the physical aspect of our relationship was-"

"Oh my god."

"-extremely satisfying for both of us. You told me so yourself. Multiple times. You were quite vocal about it, actually."

Your face is on fire. "Please stop talking."

"I'm just trying to understand." He takes another step closer, and this time you're backed against the wall of the equipment building and there's nowhere left to retreat. "You ended things without explanation. You said you were bored, but you weren't bored. I know you weren't bored. So what was it?"

"I don't-" You struggle to remember what Sunoo told you. "I just needed space."

"Space." His eyes search your face. "You've had space. You've had a year of space. And now you're back, and you're different."

"I'm not different."

"You are. You waved at me this morning."

"So? People wave."

"You never wave. You used to walk past me like I didn't exist." His voice softens. "Today you waved. And you smiled. A real smile. Not the cold one you used to give me. A real one."

You have nothing to say to that. You can't explain it without revealing everything. So you just stand there, pressed against the wall, your heart pounding and your face burning, while your dead self's ex-fiancé looks at you like you're a puzzle he's desperate to solve.

"You're blushing," he observes.

"I'm not."

"You are. It's charming." He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from your face. His fingers are cold against your skin. "I've never seen you blush before."

"I hit my head. It damaged my blood Circulation."

"That's not how blood circulation works."

"It's magical blood circulation."

He laughs. It's a soft sound, barely more than an exhale, but it transforms his face. "I've missed you," he says. "Even when you were cruel to me. Even when you ignored me. I've missed you every day."

"Sunghoon-"

"I know you don't want this. I know you don't want me. But I'm not giving up." He leans in, and before you can react, his lips brush against your cheek. It's barely a kiss, light, fleeting, cold and warm at the same time. "One day, I'll convince you to go on a date with me. A real date. And you'll remember why we worked."

He pulls back. Then he turns and walks away, his jacket billowing slightly in the breeze, leaving you pressed against the wall with your hand over your cheek and your brain completely offline.

Sunoo returns approximately thirty seconds later, carrying a bag of training equipment. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" he asks. "You're pale. Paler than usual. What happened?"

"Sunghoon happened."

"What?"

"He came over. He said-" You press your hands to your burning face. "He said they had a very satisfying physical relationship and she was very vocal about it and he kissed my cheek and said he'd convince me to go on a date one day and I just stood there like an idiot because I didn't know what else to do!"

Sunoo drops the training bag. "He kissed you?"

"On the cheek! Just the cheek! But still!"

"Where?"

"My cheek! I just said!"

"No, I mean where were you? Were there witnesses?"

"I don't know! I was too busy having a crisis!"

Sunoo pinches the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Okay. This is fine. Sunghoon has been trying to win her back for a year. It's not suspicious that he's still trying. The cheek kiss is new, but it's not-" He pauses. "Did you respond?"

"I stood there like a statue!"

"Good. That's good. That's in-character. The old Y/N would have been cold about it. Dismissive."

"Sunoo, I think I blushed."

"You what?"

"I blushed. He noticed. He said it was charming."

Sunoo stares at you. Then he closes his eyes and takes a very deep breath. "I'm going to be honest with you," he says. "I don't know how to handle this. Sunghoon is not supposed to be charmed by you. He's supposed to be pining from a distance while you ignore him. That's the dynamic. That's how it's always been."

"Maybe he's just glad I'm not being cold to him anymore?"

"Which is exactly the problem." Sunoo opens his eyes. "The old Y/N was cruel. That's who she was. If you're not cold, people will notice. Sunghoon has already noticed. Jake noticed this morning. How long before everyone notices?"

"What do you want me to do? Start being mean to people?"

"Maybe! I don't know!" He throws his hands up. "I didn't plan for this. I planned for a smooth transition. I planned for you to be cold and distant and slowly warm up over time. I did not plan for you to be accidentally charming your ex-fiancé on day one."

"I wasn't trying to be charming!"

"That's the worst part! You're not even doing it on purpose!"

You both stand there in frustrated silence. "Can we just do the combat training?" you ask finally. "I think I need to hit something."

Sunoo exhales. "Fine. But we're not done talking about this."

The combat training is a disaster.

"Okay," Sunoo says, standing in the center of the training ground with a padded dummy. "The most basic defensive maneuver is the shield ward. It creates a temporary barrier between you and an attack. Even if you don't have an affinity yet, you should be able to produce at least a flicker of one. The theory is simple."

He explains the theory. It involves visualizing your sin energy, whatever that means, and channeling it through your hands into a physical barrier. The barrier doesn't need to be strong. It just needs to exist.

"Go ahead," he says. "Try it."

You raise your hands. You concentrate. You try to visualize your sin energy. Nothing happens.

"Try harder."

You try harder. You scrunch up your face. You push with your mind. You make straining noises that would be embarrassing if you weren't already beyond embarrassment. Nothing happens.

"Maybe try a different approach," Sunoo suggests. "Instead of pushing, try pulling. Imagine drawing energy from the air around you."

You imagine drawing energy from the air. The air does not cooperate. The air, in fact, seems actively uninterested in being drawn from.

"Anything?" Sunoo asks.

"Nope."

"Okay. Let's try a physical approach instead." He gestures to the dummy. "Basic punch. Just hit it."

You punch the dummy. It's not a good punch. Your thumb is inside your fist, which you're fairly certain is wrong. Your wrist bends at an awkward angle. The impact sends a jolt of pain up your arm.

"Ow."

Sunoo stares at you. "Have you ever thrown a punch before?"

"No."

"Ever?"

"I've been punched. Does that count?"

"No. It doesn't." He walks over and adjusts your stance. "Feet shoulder-width apart. Weight on your back foot. Thumb outside your fist, outside, Y/N, not inside. You're going to break your thumb if you punch like that."

"My thumb already hurts."

"Because you punched wrong. Do it again. Properly this time."

You punch again. It's slightly better. Your thumb remains unbroken. The dummy wobbles a little.

"Better," Sunoo says. "Now do it fifty more times."

"Fifty?"

"Muscle memory. Your body needs to learn what your mind already knows. Again."

You punch the dummy fifty times. 

"Good," Sunoo says. "Now the other hand."

"The other- are you serious?"

"Most people are right-handed, which means they expect attacks from the right. If you can throw a decent left hook, you'll have an advantage. Again. Fifty times."

You punch the dummy fifty more times with your left hand. Your left hand is even less coordinated than your right. Several punches miss entirely. One hits the dummy's stand and sends a fresh jolt of pain through your wrist.

"I hate this," you announce.

"You hate it because you're bad at it. You'll hate it less when you're good at it."

"Will I ever be good at it?"

Sunoo considers this. "Probably not. But you'll be better than you are now."

"That's not comforting."

"It wasn't meant to be. Again. This time, try a kick."

You kick the dummy. You miss and your momentum carries you around in a full circle. You end up facing the wrong direction with your back to the dummy and your arms pinwheeling for balance.

Sunoo covers his mouth with his hand. His shoulders are shaking.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No," he says, his voice strangled. "Absolutely not."

"You're laughing at me."

"I'm not. I'm-" A snort escapes him. "Okay, I am. I'm sorry. It's just…you spun. You spun like a top. How did you spin like a top?"

"I don't know! Physics happened!"

"Physics doesn't usually make people pirouette!"

"I wasn't pirouetting!"

"You were definitely pirouetting. If we were grading this, you'd get full marks for artistic impression and zero for technique."

You grab a handful of training sand and throw it at him. He dodges, still laughing, and the sand scatters harmlessly across the ground.

"This is serious!" you protest. "I'm trying to learn how to defend myself!"

"You're right, you're right." He composes himself with visible effort. "I'm sorry. Let's try again. This time, don't spin."

"I didn't spin on purpose!"

"Plant your foot. Keep your weight centered. Kick through the target, not at it."

You try again. This time you don't spin, but your kick connects with the dummy's stand instead of the dummy, and the whole thing topples over. The dummy hits the ground with a thud that echoes across the training ground.

"I'm never going to be able to do this," you say quietly.

Sunoo walks over and rights the dummy. "You're not going to be able to do it today. Or tomorrow. Or probably next week. But eventually-"

"Eventually I'll what? Learn to throw a punch? That's not going to help against witches and demons and whatever else is out there."

"No. But it's a start." He turns to face you. His expression has lost its humor. "Y/N, I know this is overwhelming. I know you feel like you're drowning. But you're not alone. I'm going to help you. We're going to figure this out."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we'll figure out something else." He picks up the training bag. "That's enough for today. Let's go back to the dorm. We have plans tonight."

"Plans?"

"We're going to Malachar. There's someone I need you to meet."

The teleportation stone is a small, flat disc that fits in the palm of Sunoo's hand. "Teleportation stones are rare," Sunoo explains as you stand in his dorm room. "Most people use portals, but portals can be tracked. Stones are untraceable. This one is keyed to a specific location in Malachar, an underground bar called the Rusted Nail. Not the kind of place Academy students usually frequent."

"Then why are we going there?"

"Because the person we need to talk to doesn't frequent Academy-approved establishments."

He presses the stone into your palm and closes his fingers around yours. The stone is warm, warmer than it should be, and the silver veins pulse faster.

"Hold on," he says.

The world dissolves. This time, the teleportation is slightly less disorienting than before. Maybe you're getting used to it. Maybe the stone is smoother than whatever portal Sunoo used earlier. Either way, when your feet hit solid ground, you only stumble a little. 

"Where are we?"

"The Undermarket," Sunoo says. "Goblin territory. It's the black market of Malachar. Anything can be bought here if you know who to ask."

"And we're meeting a witch."

"An old contact of mine." He says it casually, but something in his tone makes you look at him sharply.

"An old contact?"

"We used to have an arrangement." He starts walking toward the end of the alley. "She provided certain services. I provided certain payments. It was mutually beneficial."

"What kind of arrangement?"

"The kind that's none of your business."

"Sunoo."

He sighs. "We slept together. Occasionally. It wasn't romantic. She's a witch, I'm an incubus, we both had needs. Are you happy now?"

You're not sure if "happy" is the right word. You're not sure what you're feeling. Surprise, maybe. Curiosity. A strange, uncomfortable twist in your stomach that you decide to ignore. "Is there anyone in this world you haven't slept with?"

"Plenty of people. I'm selective." He grins over his shoulder. "Don't worry. You're not my type."

"I wasn't worried."

"You looked worried."

"I looked curious. It's different."

He doesn't argue, but his grin widens. The Rusted Nail is tucked between a weapons shop and what appears to be a brothel. Its sign is a literal rusted nail. The door itself is iron, heavy and black, and it groans when Sunoo pushes it open. Inside, the bar is dim and smoky. Sunoo approaches the bar and orders two drinks in a language you don't recognize. The bartender, a goblin with one eye and a scar across his throat, grunts and produces two glasses filled with amber liquid.

"Don't drink too much," Sunoo says, sliding one glass toward you. "This stuff is stronger than anything in your world."

You take a cautious sip. It burns going down, but it's not unpleasant. It tastes like honey and smoke and something else, something that makes your head swim slightly. "The witch?" you ask.

"She'll be here soon. I sent word ahead."

You wait. Then the door opens, and a woman walks in. She's wearing robes that are clearly expensive but deliberately understated, and when she sees Sunoo, her lips curve into a smile that's equal parts warmth and wariness.

"Sunoo," she says. Her voice is low and smooth. "It's been a while."

"Mara." Sunoo rises to greet her. They don't embrace, but there's a familiarity in the way they stand close to each other. "Thank you for coming."

"You said it was urgent." Her golden eyes flick to you. "Who's this?"

"A friend. I need information."

"What kind of information?"

"About Tristitia."

Mara's expression doesn't change, but something in the air shifts. "Sit down," Mara says quietly. "And order me a drink." Sunoo signals the bartender. Another glass of amber liquid appears. Mara takes a long sip before speaking. "Tristitia," she says. "You don't ask easy questions, do you?"

"I wouldn't be here if I did."

Mara's golden eyes study you again, more intently this time. "Why do you want to know about the Sorrow?"

"I'm looking for a witch," you say. "One who serves Tristitia. She killed someone important to me."

"Who?"

"Someone I can't name."

Mara is silent for a moment. Then she shakes her head slowly. "I can't help you."

"Why not?"

"Because the Tristitia coven isn't like other covens. They don't operate in the open. They don't trade with other witches. They don't even acknowledge the rest of us exist." She takes another sip of her drink. "Most covens have structure. Hierarchy. Rules. The Tristitia witches are... something else. They answer only to the Sorrow itself, and the Sorrow doesn't share its secrets."

"So you know nothing?"

"I know they exist. I know they're dangerous. I know that anyone who makes a deal with Tristitia ends up dead or wishing they were." She sets her glass down. "That's all anyone knows. The Tristitia coven is a mystery, and it's a mystery that kills people who try to solve it."

You exchange a glance with Sunoo. His expression is unreadable, but you can see the tension in his jaw. "There has to be something," you press. "Any rumor. Any lead. Anything."

Mara considers you for a long moment. Then she leans forward, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "There's a place in the Wraithwood. Deep in the forest, some say the Tristitia witches gather there, but no one who's gone looking has ever come back." She sits back. "That's all I have. And frankly, I'm risking my life just telling you that much."

"Why?"

"Because the Sorrow doesn't like being discussed. And the Sorrow's servants don't like people asking questions." She finishes her drink in one long swallow. "My advice? Let it go. Whatever revenge you're looking for, it's not worth what you'll find."

You want to argue. You want to demand more. But Sunoo puts his hand on your arm, a gentle warning. "Thank you, Mara," he says. "We appreciate the information."

"Don't thank me. I didn't give you anything useful." She stands, pulling her hood up over her dark hair. "Be careful, Sunoo. I'd hate to hear you got yourself killed."

"I'm always careful."

"No, you're not. You're just good at surviving anyway." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her golden eyes. "Take care of yourself. And your friend."

She leaves. The door groans shut behind her. The bar resumes its low murmur, the other patrons returning to their drinks and their card games as if nothing happened.

"Well," Sunoo says, "that was unhelpful."

"She seemed scared."

"She was. Mara doesn't scare easily." He stares at his glass for a moment. "The Tristitia coven is even more secretive than I thought. This is going to be harder than I expected."

You watch him. His usual playful mask has slipped, and underneath it you can see something else. Frustration. Worry. Maybe even fear.

"Why do you care so much?" you ask quietly. "About finding this witch?"

He doesn't answer right away. When he does, his voice is softer than you've ever heard it. "Because she killed my best friend. And I couldn't stop it."

"Is that the only reason?"

He looks at you. "What other reason would there be?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

A long pause. Then Sunoo's mask slides back into place, and he smiles, bright and charming and completely fake. "We came all the way to Malachar," he says. "We might as well enjoy ourselves while we're here. Drink up. The night is young."

An hour later, you're both slightly tipsy. The amber liquid is stronger than you thought. Your limbs feel loose. Sunoo has abandoned his careful composure and is sprawled in his chair, laughing at something you said that wasn't even that funny.

"You're a terrible liar," he says, pointing at you. "Terrible. The worst. You couldn't lie to a rock."

"Rocks can't hear."

"That's how bad you are. You couldn't even lie to something that can't perceive lies."

"I lied to Professor Vex."

"You lied to Professor Vex with a script I wrote for you. That doesn't count."

You laugh. It feels good to laugh. The past two days have been so strange and terrifying that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Sometimes I think you're not telling me everything," you say.

"I'm not telling you everything. I've been very upfront about that."

"That's not comforting."

"It wasn't meant to be comforting. It was meant to be honest."

You drain the last of your drink. "I don't understand you," you say. "You found a dead body. You stopped time. You recruited a stranger from another universe. You're risking everything to find a witch who might be impossible to find. And you're doing it all with a smile on your face like none of it bothers you."

"It bothers me."

"It doesn't look like it bothers you."

"That's the point." He takes a sip of his drink. "I'm an incubus. We're not supposed to be bothered by things. We're supposed to be charming and carefree and shallow. That's what people expect. That's what people want."

"But it's not who you are."

He doesn't answer. "We should go back," he says. "It's late."

"Okay," you say. "Let's go back."

He pays the bartender with coins. Then he takes your hand and presses the teleportation stone into your palm, and the world dissolves.

Back in Sunoo's dorm room, he collapses onto his bed with a groan. He looks exhausted, not just physically, but something deeper. His skin is paler than usual. His eyes has dimmed.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine. Just... drained."

"Drained how?"

He hesitates. "Incubi need to feed. Emotional energy, physical intimacy. It's been a few days since I've-" He gestures vaguely. "It catches up with me."

"Is that why you look like death?"

"Thank you for that charming description." He pushes himself up on his elbows. "I'll be fine. I just need to find someone. There are usually willing partners in Goat Hall at this hour."

He starts to get up, but you reach out and catch his arm. "Wait." He looks at you. His expression is wary. "You've been helping me all day," you say. "You've been covering for me and teaching me and dragging me across the city to talk to witches. You're exhausted because of me."

"It's not because of-"

"It is. And I haven't done anything to help you." You take a breath. "So let me help you now."

The words hang in the air. Sunoo's eyes widen slightly. "Y/N..."

"I know what I'm offering. I'm not drunk. Well, I'm a little drunk. But I'm not so drunk I don't know what I'm saying." You meet his eyes. "You need to feed. I'm willing. It's the least I can do after everything."

"You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. I'm offering." You're blushing again. Your face is definitely on fire. But you don't look away. "The old Y/N did it, right? You said you had an arrangement. So it's not weird. It's not out of character. And you need it."

Sunoo stares at you. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. Then he laughs, a real laugh, surprised and slightly incredulous. "You're something else," he says. "You know that?"

"I've been told."

He sits up fully. His expression is still tired, but there's warmth in it now. "Are you sure?"

"Do I look unsure?"

He considers this. Then he reaches out and cups your face with his hand. His palm is warm. "Tell me to stop," he says quietly, "and I'll stop. At any point. For any reason. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"I mean it. I don't care if we're in the middle of-"

"I understand, Sunoo."

He looks at you for another long moment. Then he leans in, and his lips meet yours. The kiss deepens, growing hungrier with each passing second. Sunoo's lips move against yours with practiced expertise, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth before slipping inside. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer until there's no space between your bodies.

When he finally breaks the kiss, both of you are breathing heavily. His eyes, now glowing with renewed energy, lock with yours. "Last chance to back out," he murmurs, though his hands are already sliding under your shirt.

You shake your head, reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. "I'm not going anywhere."

A genuine smile spreads across Sunoo's face as he watches you undress. His own shirt follows, revealing his torso. As he removes his pants, your eyes catch something unusual, a dark, intricate mark on his lower belly, just above his waistline. It looks like a tattoo of swirling patterns that almost seem to move in the dim light.

"That's..." you start, but words fail you.

"The incubus mark," he finishes, noticing where you're looking. "It glows when I'm... well, you'll see."

Before you can respond, he gently pushes you back onto the bed. The mattress dips under your combined weight as he follows, hovering over you. His fingers deftly unhook your bra, tossing it aside before his mouth finds your breast.

Sunoo's lips close around your nipple, his tongue swirling in patterns that make you arch against him. One hand cups your other breast, thumb rubbing circles around the hardened peak while his free hand slides down your stomach, hooking into the waistband of your panties. He doesn't remove them immediately. Instead, his fingers dip beneath the fabric, tracing patterns on your skin that send shivers through your body. You can feel his smile against your breast as he feels your reaction.

"Sensitive," he murmurs against your skin before shifting his attention to your other breast.

When he finally slides your panties down, you're already wet with anticipation. His fingers part your folds, exploring with a familiarity that surprises you. Sunoo's fingers are skilled, moving with a precision that speaks of centuries of practice. He finds your clit immediately, circling it with just the right pressure to make your hips buck. Then he's sliding lower, collecting your wetness on his fingertips before returning to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"You're so responsive," he whispers, his voice husky with renewed energy. "I can feel your emotions, your pleasure. It's... intoxicating."

As if to demonstrate, he increases the pressure slightly, and you gasp as a wave of pleasure washes over you. His mark begins to emit a soft purple glow, pulsing in time with his movements. "I want to hear you moan," he says, looking up at you with darkening eyes. "Your sounds... they feed me as much as your touch."

His words send another jolt through you, and you can't help but moan as he slides a finger inside you, then another. His thumb continues to work your clit as his fingers curl inside, finding that spot that makes you roll your eyes.

"That's it," he encourages, his own breathing growing heavier. "Let me hear you."

The magic is unmistakable now, each touch seems amplified, each sensation more intense than you've ever experienced. Sunoo shifts, turning you onto your side. He positions himself behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close as he enters you with a smooth, practiced motion. The angle is new to you, hitting spots inside you that you didn't know existed.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice strained with restraint.

"More than okay," you manage to gasp out.

He begins to move, his hips rolling in a rhythm that has you moaning continuously now. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, building steadily toward something you've never experienced before. You can feel his mark growing hotter against your lower back, the purple glow intensifying.

"Sunoo..." you moan, reaching back to tangle your fingers in his hair.

He responds with a particularly deep thrust that makes you cry out. His own sounds join yours now, soft whimpers and moans that vibrate against your back. The closer he gets to his own release, the more his mark glows, bathing the room in an ethereal purple light. You've never enjoyed sex like this before. Every nerve ending is alive, every touch electric. You're so wet you can hear it with each movement, the sounds mixing with your moans and his to create a symphony of pleasure.

"I'm close," Sunoo gasps, his movements becoming more erratic.

His hand slides down to your clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts. That extra stimulation is all it takes to push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name. Sunoo follows almost immediately, pulling out at the last second. You feel his warm release against your pussy and inner thighs as he moans your name, his mark flaring brightly before dimming slightly.

Before you can recover, he's shifting again, turning you onto your back and positioning himself between your legs. His eyes meet yours as he lowers his head.

"Sunoo, what-"

Your question cuts off in a gasp as his tongue laps at the mixture of your release and his on your skin. He's thorough, cleaning every drop with an enthusiasm that sends aftershocks of pleasure through your still-sensitive body. When he finally reaches your center, his tongue delves inside, and you arch off the bed. The pleasure is almost too much, too intense, but you don't want it to stop. You can feel him drawing energy from you, not just physical but emotional, the remnants of your pleasure, your contentment, your satisfaction.

With each pass of his tongue, you can see the color returning to his skin, the glow in his eyes brightening. His mark, once again dark, seems to pulse with renewed energy. Finally, when you're spent and trembling, he lifts his head. His face is flushed, his lips glistening, and he looks... healthy. Vital. The exhaustion that had plagued him earlier is gone, replaced by a vibrant energy that makes him seem almost otherworldly.

"Thank you," he says, his voice soft but strong now. "Are you okay for another round?"

You nod, still catching your breath. "Why am I still feeling hot though?"

"Incubi magic." He says with a small smile. 

You wake up sore.

Not the pleasant kind of sore that comes from a good workout. Not even the satisfying sore of muscles that have been productively used. This is the kind of sore that makes you question every life choice that led you to this moment. Your thighs ache. Your back protests when you try to move. Sunoo, the absolute menace, is already awake and looking disgustingly fresh. He's perched on the edge of his bed, his bed, which you are still in, because apparently you fell asleep here after last night's... activities, and he's scrolling through something on a thin crystal tablet that seems to function as this world's version of a smartphone.

"Good morning," he says cheerfully. "You look terrible."

"I feel terrible." You attempt to sit up and immediately regret it. "Oh my god. What did you do to me?"

"I did exactly what you asked me to do. Multiple times, if I recall correctly. You were very enthusiastic."

"Was I?"

"Incredibly. It was flattering, honestly. At one point you said-"

"Please don't finish that sentence."

"-something about my eyes being like honeyed starlight. It was very romantic. I didn't know you had it in you."

You grab a pillow and press it over your face. The pillow smells like him, something floral and slightly citrusy. "I was tipsy and under your incubi magic."

"You were two drinks in. That's not tipsy, that's barely buzzed. And my magic doesn’t make people poetic, it just makes them extra horny there’s a difference."

"I wish I was dead."

"That seems extreme." He plucks the pillow off your face. "Come on. We have classes in an hour. You need to shower, eat something, and figure out how to walk without limping."

"I'm not limping."

"You're definitely limping. I saw you try to stand earlier. It was pathetic."

You throw the pillow at him. He catches it without looking, which is infuriating. His reflexes are annoyingly good. Probably an incubus thing. Probably all the feeding he did last night, which, okay, you're not going to think about that. You're not going to think about any of it. You're going to shower and eat breakfast and pretend last night was a normal, reasonable thing that normal, reasonable people do.

Sunoo grins. It's the same grin he wore last night when he first kissed you, equal parts mischief and affection. "You're cute when you're flustered."

"I'm not flustered. I'm sore. There's a difference."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." He stands and stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal a strip of stomach that you absolutely do not look at. "Bathroom's through there. Use whatever products you want. I recommend the blue bottle for muscle aches. It's enchanted."

"Enchanted how?"

"It makes your muscles stop hating you. Very useful for mornings after."

You stare at him. "Do you have a lot of mornings after?"

"I'm an incubus who lives in the Lust dorm. What do you think?"

"I think I don't want to know."

"Probably wise." He tosses you a towel. "Go shower. I'll get breakfast. You're going to need your strength, we have Potiology today, and Professor Thornwood doubled your conditioning laps."

"He what?"

"I may have mentioned that you were eager to improve your stamina. He was impressed by your dedication."

"Sunoo."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to kill you."

"That's the spirit. Channel that anger. Maybe it'll trigger your Ira affinity."

You throw the pillow at him again. He dodges again. You limp to the bathroom and slam the door.

The shower helps. The enchanted blue bottle helps more. By the time you're dressed and fed and walking (mostly) normally, you've been staring at Sunoo like he murdered your ancestors. 

"Why do you keep making that face?" Sunoo asks as you walk toward the Verity Palace.

"What face?"

"That scrunched-up thinking face."

"I don't have a scrunched-up thinking face."

"You absolutely do. It's very endearing."

"I'm not-" You take a breath. 

He pauses. "Are you sure you're fine?"

"I will throw you down these stairs."

"That's a no, then."

The first classes are doing strangely great for you. The break between Combat Training and Basic Hexes is when everything starts to go wrong.

You're sitting in the classroom, waiting for Professor Willowisp to arrive, when the door opens and a young man walks in. He's not the professor. He's a student, an elf, you can tell by the pointed ears and the faint luminescence of his skin. He's also, you notice, wearing the emblem of the snake on his collar. Vanagloria. Envy.

"Good afternoon," he says. His voice is smooth and pleasant and somehow makes you feel like you're being evaluated. "I'm here to collect the mid-term consent forms. Professor Willowisp asked me to handle the paperwork before class begins."

Consent forms. You have no idea what consent forms he's talking about. You have no idea if the old Y/N turned hers in. You have no idea what's happening at all. The other students are pulling papers from their bags. You sit frozen, your hands empty, your expression carefully blank.

The elf makes his way around the room, collecting forms from each student. When he reaches your desk, he pauses. "Y/N," he says. "Your form?"

"Right." You don't move. "The form."

"The mid-term consent form for practical hex application. It was due today."

"Of course. The form." You pat your bag, pretending to search for it. "I must have... forgotten it. In my room. The injury. Memory gaps."

The elf's eyes narrow slightly. "You forgot?"

"Temporarily. It'll come back."

"I see." He doesn't sound like he sees. He sounds like he's cataloging this information for future use. "I'll note the late submission. Professor Willowisp may deduct points."

"That's fine. Points are... fine."

He studies you for a moment longer. Then he smiles, a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and moves on to the next student. You don't realize you've been holding your breath until he's on the other side of the room.

When the elf finally leaves, papers in hand, Sunoo slides into the seat beside you. His expression is carefully neutral. "That was Jungwon," he says quietly. "Student representative. Head of every committee. Controls the flow of information in the Academy like a spider controls a web." Sunoo's voice is low. "And he's suspicious of you."

"I noticed."

"Jungwon doesn't forget things. If he thinks something's wrong with you, he'll dig until he finds out what it is."

"Great." You press your palms against your eyes. "Another person I have to worry about."

"Jungwon is different from Jake or Sunghoon. They care about you. Jungwon cares about leverage. If he figures out you're not the real Y/N, he won't keep it secret out of loyalty. He'll use it."

"So what do I do?"

"Avoid him. Don't give him anything to work with. And for the love of all seven deities, turn in your paperwork on time."

"I didn't know there was paperwork!"

"Now you do." Sunoo squeezes your shoulder. "It's fine. One late form isn't proof of interdimensional identity fraud. Just be more careful."

Potheology is your first class without Sunoo. It takes place in the greenhouse. Sunoo isn't in this class. He's across campus in Advanced Luxuria Theory, which is apparently restricted to incubi and succubi for reasons you don't want to think about. You're on your own for this one. No safety net. No whispered instructions. No one to cover for you if you mess up.

You take a seat near the back, hoping to blend in. 

Then Jake walks in. He spots you immediately. His face lights up. "Y/N! You're in this class?"

"Apparently."

"I didn't know you took Potheology. I thought you said potions were beneath you."

The old Y/N said potions were beneath her. Because of course she did. "I changed my mind. The injury. It's given me a new perspective."

Jake's expression softens. "I'm glad. It's nice to have you here." He takes the seat next to you, dropping his bag on the floor. "Fair warning, today's lesson is on aphrodisiacs. Professor Nightshade thinks they're medicinally significant but really she just likes making students uncomfortable."

"Wonderful."

Professor Nightshade enters before Jake can elaborate. She surveys the class with the expression of someone who has seen everything and been disappointed by most of it.

"Aphrodisiacs," she announces without preamble. "Contrary to popular belief, they are not recreational substances. They are medically significant compounds used to treat a variety of conditions, including emotional trauma, sensory deprivation, and certain types of magical damage. Today you will learn to brew a basic desire tincture. The instructions are on your desks. Begin."

You look at the instructions on your desk. Moonbloom petals. Siren's tear essence. Crushed firepearl. Powdered duskwing moth. You have no idea what any of these things are.

"Need help?" Jake asks.

"No," you say automatically. Then, because you're trying to be better at accepting help: "Actually, yes. The injury. I'm having trouble remembering the... ingredient properties."

Jake's face softens even further. "Of course. Here, let me show you."

He walks you through the brewing process step by step. "The key is the proportions," Jake explains, his hands steady as he measures ingredients. "Too much moonbloom and it's basically a love potion. Too much firepearl and it's just... spicy. You want balance."

"Right. Balance."

"You're doing Great."

You're not doing great. Your tincture is a muddy brown color while Jake's is a shimmering rose gold. But you're following instructions and not actively setting anything on fire, which feels like a victory. By the end of class, you've produced something that might technically qualify as an aphrodisiac. It's lumpy and it smells slightly burnt, but Professor Nightshade passes by your station with only a raised eyebrow and a muttered "acceptable."

"See?" Jake says, beaming. "Told you you could do it."

"Thanks to you."

"That's what friends are for." He packs up his supplies while you do the same. "Hey, do you want to study together later? I know you've been spending a lot of time with Sunoo since you got back, but I thought maybe we could-"

"Actually, I'm going to the library after this. Sunoo said I should catch up on magical theory."

"Oh." Jake's face falls slightly. "Okay. Maybe another time?"

"Definitely."

He brightens. "Great! I'll hold you to that."

You feel a twinge of guilt as he leaves.

The Delictum Academy library is, as Sunoo mentioned during your tour, a multi-story cathedral of books with shelves that rearrange themselves when you're not looking. You find a seat in a quiet corner and pull out the list Sunoo gave you. Magical Theory for Beginners. A History of Sin Magic. It's a lot of reading. It's more reading than you've done in your entire college career combined.

But you need to understand this world. You can't keep faking your way through classes forever. Eventually, someone is going to ask you a question you can't deflect, and you need to have an answer ready. You start with A History of Sin Magic, Volume I. By the time you finish the third chapter, your eyes are starting to glaze over. You need a break. You need to stretch your legs. You need to-

You need to find information about Tristitia.

It's been lurking in the back of your mind all day, ever since last night's meeting with Mara. The Tristitia coven is a mystery. No one knows anything about them. But this is a library. Libraries have information. Libraries have records. Maybe there's something here that no one's thought to look for.

You glance around the reading room. The other students are absorbed in their own work. The librarians are busy at the front desk. No one is watching you.

You stand up, leaving your books on the table, and slip between the shelves. Tristitia is something else, a deity outside the sanctioned system, forbidden and dangerous. If there's information about it, it wouldn't be in the main sections. It would be in the restricted area.

You find the iron gate Sunoo pointed out during your tour. It's at the back of the library, tucked behind a row of shelves that seem to have been deliberately arranged to obscure it. You try the gate. It's locked.

Of course it's locked. You didn't expect it to be unlocked. But you also didn't come all the way here just to give up at the first obstacle. There has to be another way in. A side door. A gap in the wards. Something.

You circle the perimeter of the restricted section, looking for weaknesses. And then you see it. A gap in the shelves. Not a door, exactly, but a space where two shelf units don't quite meet. It's narrow, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through and it's partially hidden by a tapestry. You check your surroundings. Still no one watching. Still no one paying attention.

You slip through the gap.

The restricted section is darker than the main library. You move carefully between the shelves, reading the labels. None of them mention Tristitia by name. None of them even hint at the Sorrow. You spend what feels like an hour searching. But nothing specifically about Tristitia. Nothing about its coven. Mara was right. The Tristitia coven is a mystery, and it's a mystery that doesn't want to be solved.

Frustrated, you slip back through the gap and return to your table. You came to this library hoping for answers, and all you found was more questions.

"Y/N!"

You look up. Jake is hurrying toward your table, something clutched in his hand. "Hey," you say, closing your book. "What are you doing here?"

"You left this in the greenhouse." He holds up the vial of your lumpy aphrodisiac. "I thought you might want it. Professor Nightshade said it was acceptable, which is basically an A in her class."

"Oh. Thanks." You take the vial from him. It's still warm from the greenhouse. "You didn't have to track me down for this."

"I wanted to." He grins. "Also, I was hoping to convince you to take a study break. You've been in here for hours. Your brain needs rest."

"My brain is fine."

"Your brain is going to turn to mush if you keep reading magical theory without breaks. Trust me. I've seen it happen."

"That's not a real thing."

"It's absolutely a real thing. Last year, a fifth-year tried to read the entire Terullian Principles in one sitting and his brain literally liquefied. They had to call a healer."

"You're making that up."

"Maybe. But do you want to risk it?"

You laugh despite yourself. Jake has a way of making everything feel lighter. Less serious. He's the opposite of Sunoo's calculated charm, he's just genuinely, effortlessly warm.

"Fine," you say. "A short break."

"Yes!" He pumps his fist. "Okay, so there's this spot in the greenhouse I want to show you. There's a plant that only blooms during the false dawn, and if you time it right, you can see-"

He's gesturing enthusiastically as he talks, his hands moving in wide arcs. One of those arcs catches the aphrodisiac vial, still balanced precariously on the edge of the table.

Time slows down. You see the vial tip. You see Jake's face shift from excitement to horror. You see his hand reach out, too late, as the vial tumbles off the table and hits the floor.

It shatters. The liquid inside, your lumpy, "acceptable" aphrodisiac spreads across the stone floor in a shimmering puddle. And the smell that rises from it is... intense. Floral and spicy and something else, something that makes your head swim and your skin prickle.

"Oh no," Jake breathes.

"What?"

"That's the aphrodisiac. The concentrated aphrodisiac. And we just-" He gestures at the puddle, then at the two of you, standing directly over it. "-inhaled a lot of it."

"How much is a lot?"

"I don't know. I've never-" He swallows. "Do you feel anything?"

You open your mouth to say no, of course not, you feel fine. But the words don't come out. Because you're suddenly very aware of the fact that you don't feel fine. You feel warm. Too warm. Your skin is tingling, and your heart is beating faster than it should be, and when you look at Jake, really look at him, you notice things you didn't notice before. The way his hair curls slightly at the ends. The way his eyes catch the light. The way his uniform fits across his shoulders.

This is bad.

"I feel something," you admit.

"Me too." Jake's voice is slightly higher than usual. "Okay. Okay, this is fine. Aphrodisiacs are temporary. The effects wear off. We just need to-"

He's interrupted by voices. Loud voices, coming from the direction of the library entrance.

"-absolutely unacceptable. The restricted section has been accessed without authorization."

"I'm aware, Headmaster. We're investigating."

Professors. Multiple professors. And they're heading this way. If they find you here, standing over a shattered aphrodisiac vial, clearly affected, alone together-

"We need to hide," Jake hisses.

"Where?"

"I don't know! Somewhere!"

He grabs your arm and pulls you between the shelves. The voices are getting closer. You can hear footsteps now, heavy and purposeful. The professors are searching the library, and they're going to find you if you don't find cover immediately.

Jake's eyes dart around wildly. Then they land on something, a panel in the wall, barely visible, half-hidden behind a bookshelf. "There!" He pushes against the panel, and it swings open to reveal a small, dark compartment. "In here!"

There's no time to argue. No time to think. You dive into the compartment, and Jake dives in after you, and the panel swings shut behind you just as the professors round the corner. The compartment is tiny. Cramped. It was clearly designed for storage, not for people. There's barely enough room for one person, let alone two people to hide.

You and Jake are pressed together in the darkness, your bodies flush against each other. It takes you a moment to realize what position you've ended up in. Your head is down near his legs. Your rear end is... somewhere near his face.

"Is your-" Jake's voice comes out strangled. "Is your- are you-"

"What?"

"Your... ass. It's on my face."

You close your eyes. You want to die. You want the floor to open up and swallow you. You want to go back in time and never come to this library, never brew this aphrodisiac, never agree to hide in this horrible, tiny compartment.

"I'm aware," you manage.

"Okay. Okay, that's- that's fine. This is fine. Everything is fine."

"Stop saying everything is fine."

"I can't. If I stop saying it, I'll start screaming."

The voices are right outside now. You can hear them clearly through the thin wall of the compartment. "-no sign of the intruder. The restricted section appears undisturbed."

"Keep searching. The wards were triggered. Someone was here."

You hold your breath. Jake holds his breath.The aphrodisiac is definitely still burning. You can feel it. Every point of contact between your body and Jake's is electric, heightened, overwhelming. The warmth of his chest. The press of his hands on your hips, trying to steady you. And from the way his breathing keeps catching, from the way his fingers are gripping your hips a little too tightly, you're pretty sure he's feeling it too.

"This is bad," you whisper.

"Very bad," he agrees.

"The aphrodisiac-"

"I know."

"It's making me-"

"I know. Me too."

You both fall silent. The professors are still outside, their footsteps heavy on the stone floor. The compartment is still dark, still cramped, still unbearably warm. And the aphrodisiac is still working its way through your bloodstream, turning every accidental touch into something more. Jake shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. You bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

"Sorry," he breathes.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine. Nothing about this is fine." A pause. "Can I just say, for the record, that this is not how I imagined my evening going?"

"You imagined your evening?"

"I imagined a lot of things. None of them involved hiding in a closet with my childhood best friend's ass on my face."

"Can we stop talking about my ass?"

"I would love to stop talking about it. Unfortunately, it's very present."

You would laugh if you weren't so mortified. You would cry if you weren't so pent up. The aphrodisiac is reaching its peak, you can tell, the warmth is spreading through your entire body now, pooling low in your stomach, making your thoughts hazy and your skin hypersensitive. And Jake is right there. His body warm and solid and smelling like honey and vanilla and something else, something that the aphrodisiac is making you notice far too intensely.

"Y/N," Jake says. His voice is strained. "We might have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"The kind of problem that is... physically manifesting."

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. When you do, your face burns so hot you're surprised the compartment doesn't catch fire.

"Oh," you say.

"Yeah."

"That's- that's the aphrodisiac."

"I know."

"It's not- you're not-"

"I know. But my body doesn't know. My body thinks-" He cuts himself off with a strangled sound. "Can you please stop shifting?"

"I'm not shifting!"

"You're shifting! Every time you move, your-"

The compartment door rattles. You both freeze.

"Is someone in there?" a voice calls out. One of the professors. Right outside. Right there.

You don't breathe. He doesn't breathe. The compartment is silent, and dark, and so hot that you're both sweating, and the aphrodisiac is still pulsing through your veins, and this is quite possibly the worst moment of your entire life.

The footsteps move away. The voices fade. "Must have been a false alarm. The old wards are too sensitive."

"We'll check again in the morning." The footsteps retreat. The library falls silent.

You don't move. Jake doesn't move. The two of you stay frozen in the darkness, pressed together, hearts racing, the remnants of the aphrodisiac still singing through your blood.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Jake speaks. "We should probably-"

"Yeah."

"Wait until we're sure they're gone."

"Yeah."

The silence stretches, thick and heavy in the darkness. You can still hear some faint voices.

"We should..." Jake starts, his voice a strained whisper. "We should try to stay still. Control our breathing. It'll pass faster if we don't... feed it."

You nod. Control. That's a good idea. A rational idea. You try to focus on your breath, pulling in slow, steady inhales and pushing them out. But every time you breathe in, you fill your lungs with Jake's scent, all amplified by the potion into something intoxicating, something that makes your mouth water. The heat inside you isn't fading. It's building. It pools in your stomach, a low, heavy ache that spreads downwards, between your thighs. You can feel a dampness gathering there, a slick warmth that has nothing to do with sweat and everything to do with the man pressed against you.

Jake shifts, a tiny, aborted movement meant to create space, but it only makes things worse. His hips roll forward, just slightly, and the hard line of his erection drags against the right side of your face. A gasp tears from your throat before you can swallow it.

"Sorry," he grits out, his voice tight. "I'm sorry. I'm trying."

"I know," you whisper back, your own voice shaky. "Me too."

His hands are still on your hips, his fingers gripping you through the fabric of your uniform skirt. You can feel the heat of them even through the layers of cloth. You want him to move them. You want him to take them away. You want him to slide them under your skirt and press them directly against your skin. The thought is so shocking, so potent, that it makes you dizzy. You're not supposed to be thinking about his hands on your bare skin. 

You feel one of his hands move. It slides slowly, tentatively, from your hip to the hem of your skirt. His knuckles brush against the back of your thigh, and you shudder, a full-body tremor that you can't control.

"Y/N," he breathes, his voice right next to your ear, a puff of hot air that makes you clench. "I can’t hold back anymore."

You don't say anything. Screw your inhibition. You just press back against him, a silent, involuntary plea. He takes it as permission. His fingers hook under the waistband of your tights. He pauses for a second, giving you one last chance to refuse. You don't. You hold your breath, your entire body tensed in anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he peels the tights down, followed by your underwear. The fabric whispers down your legs, bunching around your knees. The cool air of the compartment hits your heated flesh, and you gasp.

"Jake," you whisper, his name a ragged sound. "What are you-"

And then you feel something else. It's the wet, heat of his tongue, tracing a slow, deliberate line up your inner thigh. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from crying out. The sensation is overwhelming, a jolt of pure pleasure that shoots straight to your core. He does it again, on the other thigh, his movements slow and unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world. His thumbs part your folds, exposing you completely to him. And then his mouth is on you.

Not a tentative lick, but a firm, confident press of his lips against your most sensitive spot. A choked moan escapes your lips.

"Quiet," he whispers against you, the vibration of his voice sending another shockwave through you. "We have to be quiet."

You nod frantically, trying to focus, to muffle the sounds he's pulling from you, but it's impossible. He starts to move his tongue, and all rational thought dissolves. He's not rushing. He's exploring. He licks around your clit, tracing the shape of it. He dips down, gathering your wetness on his tongue before circling your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that make you buck back against him. The aphrodisiac is amplifying everything, turning every flick of his tongue into a bolt of lightning, every slow lap into a wave of fire.

He builds a rhythm, a slow, maddening tempo that has you climbing higher and higher. He alternates between broad, flat strokes that cover your entire core and sharp, precise flicks of his tongue directly on your clit. It's too much and not enough. You can feel the pressure coiling in your stomach.

You're lost in it. Your mind is blank, filled only with the feeling of his mouth on you, his hands on your hips, the scent of his skin. And then, through the haze of pleasure, a new thought surfaces. Your own hands begin to move. You fumble in the darkness, your fingers searching for the button of his trousers. You find it, your knuckles brushing against the hard length straining against the fabric. He groans against you, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through your entire body.

Your fingers are clumsy, shaking with a combination of the aphrodisiac and your own rising desire. You manage to undo the button. His erection springs free, hot and heavy in your hand. You wrap your fingers around him, and he hisses, his hips jerking forward. You stroke him once, twice. A bead of moisture gathers at the tip, and you swipe at it with your thumb. He shudders.

You shift your position slightly, Until you can take him into your mouth. The taste is clean and salty. You hollow your cheeks, sucking gently, and he rewards you with another groan, the sound muffled against your skin. This is it. This is the breaking point. You're pleasuring him while he pleasures you, a tangle of limbs and mouths in the suffocating darkness. Every time he flicks his tongue, you tighten your grip on him. Every time you take him deeper into your mouth, his own movements become more frantic.

You have to swallow your moans, muffle your cries against his skin. He has to muffle his groans against you. The sounds you do make are choked, breathless, desperate. The pressure inside you is almost unbearable now. You're so close. You can feel the orgasm building. Jake seems to sense it too. He focuses his attention, his tongue working faster, harder, with a devastating precision. He slides one hand from your hip, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circles as his tongue continues its assault. That's all it takes. The wave breaks and your orgasm crashes over. 

This is bad. Really really bad.

You have been taking piano lessons with Mr. Lee for months. What started as an innocent attempt to pick up a new hobby to relieve stress has slowly turned into something else. Now you attend every class just to see him.

The tension between you has been building day after day. It began with lingering glances across the piano. Then came the gentle touches of his hands when he adjusted your fingers on the keys. And God, his hands were large and veined, you often find yourself staring at his long fingers, imagining how they would feel somewhere else.

He catches himself staring at your lips every time you bite them in concentration. He also notices how carefully you dress for his classes, in those dresses that expose your collarbone and the delicate curve of your breasts, or in those tiny skirts that let him glimpse the lace of your panties.

You both know this is wrong. After all, he is your teacher, older, more experienced. And you are his student, younger, but not entirely innocent.

One afternoon, the air feels heavier than ever. You arrive wearing a tight white dress that clings to your body. He is certain you bought it two sizes too small because the hem barely reaches the middle of your thighs, and your breasts look like they might spill out at any moment.

You are working on chopin's nocturne in e-flat major. Every time you stumble on a complex note, he moves closer.

"Feel it, don't rush." He murmurs, stopping right behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body against your back and smell his masculine cologne.

You turn your head slightly, your faces are only inches apart. His gaze instantly drops to your lips before he suddenly steps back. "Try again."

When the piece finally ends, a heavy silence fills the room. You are aching for him to do something, because you can already feel the wetness between your thighs, your pussy throbbing with need. "Mr. Lee..."

"Heeseung." He corrects quickly, his hands resting on your shoulders. "You've improved so much. But today you're... distracted."

"So are you." You whisper. He squeezes your shoulders harder and lets out a slow breath, as if he is finally surrendering to a fight he knows he cannot win.

"Stand up." You obey, turning around to face him on trembling legs.

He cups your face with one hand and gently brushes his thumb across your lower lip. Your eyes close, waiting for the kiss you've been craving, but then he whispers. "We shouldn't... this is reckless."

Your eyes snap open, your cheeks burning. "I know, but I can't stop thinking about you. Every day, in every lesson."

His eyes travel slowly down your body, taking in your breasts straining against the tight dress and your soft thighs. His cock throbs inside his pants. He is a man who has been fighting this for months, but the way you are looking at him now is too much.

He cups your face with both hands, gently stroking your cheeks. "If we do this, I need you to be sure."

"I'm sure, Heeseung. Please." you whisper.

The sound of his name leaving your lips without formality breaks him. "I'll stop the moment you want me to, sweetheart."

He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss filled with months of repressed desire. You gasp against his mouth as he effortlessly lifts you onto the lid of the piano.

The kiss only breaks when you are both breathless. But Heeseung doesn't stop. He trails his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin to leave marks.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to taste you." He growls, gently biting the sensitive spot on your neck. "My pretty girl, sitting here every in that little dress, driving me fucking insane."

His hand slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher until he reaches your panties, tracing the soaked fabric between your legs.

"You're soaked already." He smiles proudly and pulls your panties aside, stroking your folds and circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp.

Then his mouth crashes against yours again, tongues tangling obscenely as he slides two fingers inside you. He swallows your moans, claiming your mouth. "Stay quiet for me, baby."

He drops to his knees in front of you and spreads your thighs wide. The sight of your hot professor kneeling between your legs makes your mind hazy and your pussy clench. He pulls your panties down, pockets them, and buries his face between your legs. "Oh God- Heeseung..."

His tongue gives long, hungry licks along your folds before sucking hard on your swollen clit. At the same time, he pushes two fingers back inside you, curling them against that sensitive spot. "Fuck, you're so sweet."

His fingers pump in and out of you while his tongue circles and sucks your clit. "This pretty little pussy is already soaked for me."

He eats you like a man starved, making your thighs shake around his head and your hips grind against his face. "That's it, baby, ride my tongue. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He keeps going until you come hard with a loud moan. Only then does he pull back with a wicked smile and kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "Good girl. You did so well for me."

Still trembling, you reach for his belt, freeing his long, hard cock. The tip glistens with precum, making your mouth waters. You wrap your hand around the warm, heavy length and slowly stroke him. "Turn around for me, sweetheart. Bend over the piano like I've imagined a hundred times."

He guides you, bending you over the piano until your breasts are pressed against the cold wood. He pushes your dress up to your waist, fully exposing your ass.

"Fuck, look at you..." He runs his hand over the curve of your ass and squeezes one cheek hard, making you whimper. "Bent over my piano like a dirty little slut for your teacher. So beautiful it hurts."

He gives your ass a sharp slap, watching it jiggle, then he grabs the base of his cock and rubs the head against your slick folds. "I'm going to fuck you so deep you'll feel me for days."

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every vein. He is big, almost too big, but the stretch burns in the most delicious way. When he finally bottoms out, you feel completely full. "So tight... My good girl's pussy is taking my cock so well."

He stays still at first, letting you adjust to his size. “You okay, baby?"

You open your mouth but only a shaky, pathetic sigh comes out, so you nod frantically, but it's not enough for him.

Smack!

The loud sound echoes through the room. Your ass stings, making you cry out. "Yes! I'm okay, please move."

He starts slow, pulling back until only the tip remains inside, then thrusting hard. The piano resonates with every powerful stroke. Soon his pace becomes faster and deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your moans and his filthy praises.

"That's it, take it." He leans over you, pressing his chest against your back. "This tight cunt was made for me. You've been teasing me for months while I tried to be a gentleman. Now you're bent over my piano like a dirty little slut for me."

His dirty words make you clench around him. "I can feel you everywhere inside me, oh my god-”

He laughs mockingly and pinches your clit. "Yeah? Then cum on my cock, I want to feel you milking me."

You come hard for the second time, moaning his name. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm until he finally buries himself deep and fills you with his hot, thick cum.

He stays inside you, making sure not a single drop is wasted, while kissing your shoulder and gently stroking your back. “Can you give me one more, baby? I want to watch you ride me.”

“Yes, please, Heeseung. I want it." You whisper breathlessly.

He sits on the piano bench and pulls you onto his lap. You sink down onto his cock and begin rolling your hips, riding him slowly at first. “You feel so good, baby."

He lets you set the pace while he finally pulls your dress off and throws it aside. Your breasts are finally free. He takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak.

You move faster, holding onto his shoulders for balance, your clit rubbing against him every time you take him deep. "Hee- that feels so good."

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, but his hand keeps kneading and pinching the other one. "You're so wet and sloppy. I can feel my cum leaking down my balls, baby."

The pressure in your belly builds until your body starts shaking uncontrollably. Your movements lose rhythm, but he grips your hips and helps you keep going. "I'm going to cum inside you one more time. I want to fill this sweet cunt until it's overflowing."

You cum first, falling apart in his arms. He holds you tight, thrusting up into you through your orgasm until he follows right after, groaning in satisfaction as he fills you again.

"You were perfect." He whispers, kissing your forehead tenderly. "Are you okay, baby? Any soreness?

You shake your head, smiling at the softness in his voice. "I'm great."

He smiles and gently runs his fingers through your messy hair. "Good, because these lessons are going to be very different from now on."

𓂃

NOTE : english is not my first language, please let me know if there are any typos!

you met yeonjun and soobin on the first day of high school, the three of you stumbling into the hallway almost at the same time—breathless, out of sync with the bell, and equally unprepared for the scolding you were about to receive.

“this isn’t a good first impression,” the teacher had snapped, tapping their clipboard against their palm.

you bit back a smile, glancing to your right where yeonjun stood, lips twitching with barely hidden amusement. soobin, to your left, looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“sorry,” you mumbled, trying to look remorseful.

“yeah, won’t happen again,” yeonjun added, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t exactly convincing.

and that was how it started.

punishment turned to inside jokes. inside jokes turned to late-night calls. and somewhere between high school chaos and teenage recklessness, the three of you became inseparable. like a small, unruly universe made just for the three of you.

yeonjun was the storm. loud, magnetic, impossible to ignore. he had this fire in him that made every party burn just a little brighter. the kind of person who made you forget to check the time, who spun you in circles on dance floors and poured shots like they were candy.

soobin was the calm. quiet at first, a little stiff around the edges, but he unraveled slowly—beautifully. it was you and yeonjun who peeled his layers back, who taught him how to scream lyrics at karaoke and sneak out after curfew to sit on the swings behind the school.

“you think we corrupted him?” yeonjun had asked once, lazily draped across your lap in your room, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.

you laughed. “nah. we just showed him the fun parts of life.”

“he’s gonna thank us when he’s older,” yeonjun grinned, eyes fluttering closed.

“i already do,” soobin had murmured from the floor, his voice so soft it barely reached your ears.

college didn’t change much. if anything, it solidified everything.

you found a university that fit all three of you—gastronomy for soobin, theater for yeonjun, graphic design for you. it felt like fate, like everything had been leading up to this. they shared a room in their frat house, and you stayed across campus with yeji, though you rarely spent the night there. you were always with them.

dinners cooked by soobin in their tiny kitchen. wine nights on the floor of their dorm, yeonjun making dramatic toasts with a plastic cup in hand. movie marathons that ended with all three of you passed out on the same bed, tangled up in limbs and warmth.

and then there were the quiet moments.

“you think we’ll still be this close after college?” soobin asked one night, head resting on your shoulder as the three of you laid in the grass, stargazing after a failed attempt to sneak into a rooftop party.

“why wouldn’t we be?” yeonjun replied, flicking a pebble into the air.

“people change,” soobin said.

“not us,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.

“never us,” yeonjun echoed, voice firm in the dark.

the truth was, you loved them. both of them. differently, but deeply.

with soobin, it was soft glances and shared secrets at 3am, spoonfuls of ice cream and understanding that didn't need to be spoken.

with yeonjun, it was wild laughter and quick heartbeats, his arms slung around your waist like they belonged there, his breath against your neck when he leaned in too close.

you had crushed on both, once. maybe still did. but you'd never dared to cross the line. they were your best friends. your chaos. your home.

and you didn’t want to ruin that.

you knock once before letting yourself in, already knowing they’re inside. yeonjun’s sprawled out on his bed, legs dangling, his phone in hand. soobin’s sitting at his desk, flipping through a cookbook lazily, pen between his fingers.

“hey,” you mumble, stepping in and dropping your bag on the floor.

both of them look up.

“hey,” yeonjun answers first, but there’s something unreadable in his tone. soobin only hums in acknowledgment, eyes flicking back down to the page like he’s disinterested.

you bite your lip. the air feels... different. you walk over to sit on soobin’s bed, smoothing your hands over your thighs.

“i can’t stay too long,” you say after a moment. “i’ve got a date at four.”

silence.

dead silence.

then, yeonjun sits up slowly, putting his phone aside.

“with who?” his voice is calm, but laced with something sharp beneath the surface.

“minho,” you reply, trying to sound casual. “he’s that guy from the literature class. he’s been kind of persistent, and i figured… why not give it a shot?”

soobin finally closes his book.

“why not?” he repeats softly.

you glance between them. yeonjun’s standing now, arms crossed, eyes dark. soobin’s turned his chair fully toward you, his gaze unreadable.

“what?” you say with a nervous laugh. “you guys are being weird.”

“weird?” yeonjun steps closer. “we’ve been right here the whole time. and now some random guy bats his lashes and you’re ready to forget us?”

“i’m not forgetting—”

“you barely talk to us anymore,” soobin interrupts, voice low, steady. “we used to spend every night together. now you’re always texting him. smiling at your phone. disappearing without telling us.”

your heart pounds in your chest.

“we’re your best friends,” yeonjun says, now standing right in front of you. “aren’t we?”

“i—” you start, but the words die in your throat when soobin gets up too, moving in closer. you’re suddenly caged between their bodies, yeonjun in front of you, soobin behind, the air thick and heavy with tension.

“we don’t like sharing,” soobin murmurs near your ear, his voice deep and dangerous.

“especially not with someone who doesn’t know how to take care of you,” yeonjun adds, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “not like we do.”

you feel soobin’s hands on your shoulders first—soft, deliberate—then sliding down your arms slowly, trailing heat through your sleeves. yeonjun watches your face, eyes flickering down to your lips.

“we missed you,” soobin whispers, pressing closer from behind, his body warm against your back.

“and you’re gonna leave us for him?” yeonjun scoffs, leaning in. “what does he have that we don’t, huh?”

you can’t speak.

you can barely breathe.

“look at her,” soobin murmurs, his hands sliding down your waist, resting just above your hips. “she’s already melting.”

yeonjun smiles, slow and cruel, before taking your hand—guiding it down to his jeans. your breath hitches when you feel the hardness there, straining under the fabric.

“feel that?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave. “you’re making me hard and you haven’t even done anything yet.”

you whimper, and behind you, soobin’s fingers are already teasing at the hem of your shirt, slipping under to brush against your skin.

“good girl,” he breathes, mouth brushing against your neck. “stay still.”

you obey without thinking.

yeonjun guides your hand to squeeze around him, his jaw tightening. “that’s it, baby. don’t be shy now.”

soobin’s hands slip up your torso, inching your shirt higher. he pulls it over your head without warning, letting it fall to the floor.

“fuck,” he hisses, trailing his fingertips down your spine. “you’re so pretty. so fucking pretty.”

you feel yeonjun’s fingers curl around your chin again, tilting your face up until your eyes meet his.

“tell us you don’t want him,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “tell us you want us instead.”

your mouth parts, trembling.

“i want you,” you breathe. “both of you.”

yeonjun crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, hand sliding to your throat while soobin’s fingers work at the button of your jeans. you moan into yeonjun’s mouth when soobin slips a hand inside, fingers finding the soaked fabric of your panties.

“already so wet,” soobin groans, teasing your clit with slow, deliberate strokes. “you were gonna give this to him?”

“no—n-no, i—”

“but you would’ve,” yeonjun growls, pulling back to stare into your eyes. “you would’ve let him touch you like this?”

you whimper, shaking your head, but they don’t stop. soobin’s fingers slide lower, dipping inside you, and you cry out, gripping yeonjun’s arms for support.

“look at her,” yeonjun says, voice thick. “so obedient. so fucking desperate.”

“mine,” soobin mutters against your skin, kissing your neck, your shoulder, biting down gently. “ours.”

you don’t remember how you ended up on your knees.

maybe it was yeonjun’s hand curling tighter around your throat, forcing you down with a smirk tugging at his lips. maybe it was soobin’s fingers still deep inside you, curling in slow, deliberate strokes that made your legs give out.

either way, you’re kneeling between yeonjun’s thighs now, your shirt forgotten on the floor, your jeans half-off, and your body trembling with need.

“open,” yeonjun commands, unzipping his jeans, his voice rough and low. you obey instantly, lips parting as he pulls his cock free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

you moan at the sight of him, pupils blown wide.

“god, look at you,” he breathes, brushing the head of his cock over your lips. “you’d take anything we give you, wouldn’t you?”

behind you, soobin’s kneeling too, hands spreading your thighs wider as he pulls your jeans and panties all the way down, exposing your dripping pussy to the cool air. he groans at the sight, warm breath ghosting over your skin.

“you’re soaked,” he mutters, fingers dragging through your folds, spreading your slick. “fuck, you wanted this. you wanted this.”

you whimper around yeonjun’s cock as he slides it slowly into your mouth, just the tip at first, letting you taste him. his hand fists in your hair, guiding you with slow thrusts.

“good girl,” he murmurs, hips rocking forward. “take it. all the way.”

you hollow your cheeks, lips sliding down his shaft, letting him hit the back of your throat. you gag softly, but he doesn’t stop. he holds you there, eyes burning into yours.

“breathe through your nose,” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek. “that’s it, baby. you’re doing so good.”

and then you feel soobin.

you feel the thick, slow push of his cock against your pussy as he aligns himself behind you. one hand on your hip, the other spreading you open.

he slides in with a single, slow thrust, filling you completely.

you moan around yeonjun’s cock, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the sheer stretch of both sensations—the weight in your throat, the fullness in your cunt. soobin bottoms out with a soft groan, his chest pressed to your back, one hand snaking around to toy with your clit.

“fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so tight. squeezing me so good.”

you’re shaking, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as yeonjun starts to fuck your throat in slow, steady thrusts, his hand tangled in your hair. soobin’s hips begin to move behind you, rocking into you with deep, languid strokes that make your knees weak.

“we should’ve done this sooner,” yeonjun grits out, watching your lips stretch around him. “should’ve claimed you before that asshole even looked your way.”

soobin grunts in agreement, fingers digging into your hips as he thrusts harder now, his cock slamming into that sweet spot that makes your walls clamp around him.

“mine,” he growls. “you’re ours now. say it.”

you pull off yeonjun with a gasp, spit glistening on your chin.

“i’m yours,” you pant, voice broken. “yours, please—don’t stop, i need it, i need you both.”

“fuck,” yeonjun hisses, pulling you up by your arms.

he trades places with soobin in a blink, and before you can catch your breath, he’s behind you now, lifting your hips and positioning himself.

soobin sits in front of you, back against the bed frame, legs spread, his cock flushed and wet with your saliva. he smirks and taps it against his stomach.

“get back to work, baby.”

you crawl into his lap, lips parting to take him in again. and just as your tongue swirls around his tip, yeonjun slams into you from behind—one brutal, deep thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs.

you cry out, muffled around soobin’s cock, as yeonjun starts fucking you with no mercy, his pace fast, relentless.

the room is filled with the wet sound of skin on skin, of your moans, the sharp grunts from both of them as they use you—one filling your mouth, the other pounding into your dripping pussy.

“look at her,” yeonjun groans, hands bruising on your hips. “taking both of us like a perfect little slut.”

“fuck, her mouth feels so good,” soobin pants, hand cradling the back of your head, guiding your movements as you bob up and down his cock. “she loves this. look at her eyes, she’s fucking gone.”

you are.

your brain is mush, your body a trembling mess of need and pleasure and overstimulation. every thrust from yeonjun hits your cervix, while soobin’s cock stretches your throat, and you're on the edge of something dangerous, something all-consuming.

but they’re not done.

yeonjun pulls out suddenly, chest heaving, and you whine at the loss.

“lay down,” he orders.

you obey without question, collapsing onto your back, legs spread.

soobin moves between your thighs again, sliding his cock into your pussy easily, your slick coating him.

yeonjun kneels beside your head, stroking himself slowly as he watches.

“lift her leg,” he tells soobin. “i want to see her face when i stretch her open.”

you’re confused—until you feel it.

yeonjun’s fingers pressing against your other hole, slick with spit, circling gently.

“you can take it,” he whispers, leaning close, his voice pure sin. “you want to be filled up, don’t you? both holes, stuffed full.”

your moan is instant, desperate.

“yes, yes, please—”

he pushes in slowly, carefully, stretching your ass inch by inch as soobin keeps thrusting into your pussy, slower now, more controlled, letting your body adjust.

and then—

they’re both inside.

stuffed in both holes, moving in perfect rhythm, your body shaking between them.

you’re not sure how you’re still conscious.

every thrust sends white heat shooting through your veins, both cocks sliding in and out of you, filling you so deeply you feel like you might break. tears run down your cheeks. your mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

“she’s fucking dripping,” soobin gasps, gripping your thigh tighter.

“she’s close,” yeonjun growls. “don’t stop.”

you can’t take it.

you fall apart beneath them, your orgasm crashing into you like a wave—violent, overwhelming, so intense you sob their names.

your walls clamp down hard, milking soobin, and the moment he feels it, he thrusts deep once, twice—then cums inside you with a loud groan, his warmth spilling into your cunt.

yeonjun isn’t far behind. with a rough snarl, he drives into your ass a final time, burying himself to the hilt before spilling inside you too, his cum hot and thick.

you’re shaking, spent, your body a mess of slick, sweat, and cum.

they collapse around you, one on each side, panting, hands stroking your thighs, your stomach, your face.

“you’re not going on that date,” yeonjun says finally, voice hoarse.

soobin chuckles softly, kissing your jaw.

“you’re staying right here.”

your body’s still trembling when they finally pull out.

soobin’s the first to move—quiet, gentle—pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, your cheek, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. yeonjun’s slower, but his hands don’t leave you. they stay firm on your waist, grounding you, thumbs tracing slow circles into your skin like he’s trying to memorize you.

your thighs are sticky with cum—their cum—and you whimper softly as soobin reaches for a warm towel he’d left on the desk earlier, wiping between your legs with careful, reverent strokes.

“easy,” he whispers, kissing your inner thigh. “i’ve got you.”

yeonjun leans in and plants a kiss to your temple, then your collarbone, then the curve of your breast.

“still with us, baby?” he murmurs.

you nod, dazed. “mmhmm…”

they smile.

you feel it more than see it—warmth radiating off of them, like they’re proud of you. like they’ve claimed something sacred. and maybe they have.

you’re sprawled across soobin’s bed, between their bodies, completely bare and boneless. soobin curls around you from behind, arms wrapped tight around your waist. yeonjun’s lying on his side, facing you, fingers brushing softly over your jaw.

“you’re not leaving this room today,” yeonjun says eventually, low and firm.

“wasn’t planning on it,” you whisper, cheek pressing into soobin’s chest.

“good.”

you close your eyes, letting their warmth cocoon you, letting their presence fill every corner of your being.

but the moment is cut short.

ring ring.

you tense.

your phone buzzes on the floor, lighting up. again. and again. three missed calls. then four.

yeonjun leans over the edge of the bed, grabs it without a word.

“minho,” he reads out loud, smirking. “persistent little fucker, isn’t he?”

you blink slowly, too hazy to respond, body still aching from the stretch of them both. soobin’s hand strokes over your side protectively.

ring ring.

yeonjun answers.

“hello?”

there’s a pause, then the faint sound of minho’s voice on the other end.

“yeah, no,” yeonjun says, voice suddenly cold, sharp. “she’s not coming.”

more silence.

“because she’s busy. very busy. on her knees, actually. stuffed full of two cocks. think you can compete with that, poetry boy?”

your eyes widen, face burning.

soobin snorts softly behind you, his lips brushing your shoulder.

yeonjun chuckles darkly.

“yeah. thought so. don’t call again.”

he hangs up, tosses the phone aside, and turns back to you with a wicked smile.

“problem solved.”

you stare at him, breath catching in your throat.

“jun,” you whisper. “that was mean.”

he shrugs. “he doesn’t get to have you. not after what we just did. not ever.”

soobin hums in agreement, voice low against your ear.

“you’re ours now. fully.”

you shiver again—but not from the cold.

yeonjun leans down, kissing your lips softly this time. lingering.

“he couldn’t fuck you like we can.”

soobin pulls you closer, wrapping you tighter in his arms.

“he doesn’t know you like we do.”

and you know they’re right.

your body’s theirs.

your heart’s been theirs for years.

and now, so is your soul.

you should’ve been too sore to move.

but it only takes yeonjun leaning over you again—his breath hot against your neck, his fingers trailing down the mess between your legs—for your body to spark back to life, nerve endings alight, needy, desperate.

“fuck, you’re still dripping,” he groans, running his fingers through your folds. “look at this. you want more, don’t you?”

your hips twitch involuntarily, back arching.

“please,” you breathe, eyes fluttering open. “again. please, jun.”

soobin’s already shifting behind you, his chest pressed to your back, lips brushing your ear.

“you’re insatiable,” he whispers, kissing down your shoulder, leaving wet marks along your spine. “so fucking greedy for us.”

you whine, turning your face toward him, catching his lips in a kiss—sloppy, slow, tongues tangling in heat.

yeonjun watches for a second, then grabs your jaw, yanking you toward him.

“mine,” he growls, crashing his mouth onto yours.

his kiss is brutal. full of tongue, spit, teeth. he kisses you like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. when he pulls back, your lips are swollen, slick, your breath ragged.

soobin moves down, spreading your thighs again. you gasp when you feel his tongue—slow at first, then eager, messy, as he licks up their combined release from your cunt like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

“fuck, soobin,” you gasp, trembling. “that’s—ah—”

“so sweet,” he moans against your pussy. “can’t waste a drop.”

yeonjun grins above you. “you taste us, baby? both of us?”

you nod frantically, thighs shaking.

then he’s sliding down your body, biting, sucking, leaving red marks in his wake until he reaches your breasts. his tongue swirls around your nipple, teeth tugging just enough to make you cry out. one hand fists in your hair while the other grips your throat, possessive.

“you’re not leaving this bed until you’re fucked dumb,” he hisses. “until you forget that guy’s name. until all you can say is our fucking names.”

“yes,” you whimper. “yes, please, fuck me—”

soobin’s mouth leaves your cunt just long enough to say, “on your knees.”

you obey without hesitation, still shaking, hands and knees sinking into the mattress.

yeonjun moves behind you, spreading your ass open with a low growl.

“gonna ruin this pretty pussy again,” he mutters. “make you scream.”

soobin sits in front of you, already hard again, stroking himself slowly. “come on, baby. open up.”

you take him into your mouth with no hesitation, tongue swirling around the head, hollowing your cheeks as you sink down his shaft. he groans, head falling back, one hand on your cheek.

“just like that. fuck, your mouth…”

yeonjun doesn’t wait.

you feel the hot press of his cock against your pussy again, and then he’s inside—one hard, deep thrust that knocks your breath out. no build-up. just possession.

“fuck, yes,” he snarls, snapping his hips forward. “so tight—still fucking tight.”

his rhythm is brutal. fast. relentless. your body jolts forward with every thrust, your mouth choking around soobin’s cock as he cradles your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

“that’s it, baby,” soobin pants. “let him fuck you stupid while you suck me off. we’ll fill every part of you again.”

yeonjun leans over your back, pressing his chest to you as he pounds into your soaked pussy. his hand finds your clit, rubbing rough circles that make you cry out around soobin’s cock.

“you love this,” he growls into your ear. “being used like this. full. dripping. ours.”

tears blur your vision. it’s too much and not enough. your orgasm builds fast, coiling tight in your belly, heat crawling up your spine.

and then he pulls out.

you sob, shaking.

“no—please—”

“on your back,” he commands. “want to see your face when you cum again.”

you scramble to obey, eyes glassy, lips red and slick.

yeonjun grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, cock sliding into you again with one hard thrust. the angle makes you scream.

soobin straddles your chest, feeding you his cock again as yeonjun fucks you deeper than before, harder, rougher.

“fuck, fuck—” you cry out between sucks, hips grinding into yeonjun’s thrusts.

soobin leans down, kissing your mouth while you still have his cock half in. wet, filthy, hungry.

“you’re ours,” he moans. “say it.”

“y-yours,” you cry. “only yours.”

and you are. wrecked, stretched, pinned between them like you were made for it.

yeonjun slams in one last time, his hand curling around your throat again, choking you lightly as your orgasm explodes.

your vision goes white.

you clamp down hard, sobbing, shaking, the orgasm ripping through you so violently it feels like you’ll break apart.

soobin cums next, groaning as he spills on your chest, his cock twitching against your lips.

yeonjun follows, thrusting deep and staying there as he fills you again, moaning your name like a prayer.

when they collapse on either side of you, you’re not even sure you can speak.

you’re a trembling, soaked, fucked-out mess. your thighs are bruised. your lips swollen. and your heart—your heart is full.

soobin kisses your jaw softly, pulling you close, hand stroking your side.

yeonjun wipes your tears, kisses your eyelids.

“no one else gets to have you,” he whispers. “not ever.”

you smile through the haze, body aching and used.

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 stink 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 quickly 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.

You hear the soft click of the door at exactly 11:07 PM. The apartment is dim, only the warm glow of the living room lamp and the low hum of the TV filling the silence.

Sunghoon stepped inside. the heavy oak door shut behind him with a dull thud, instantly locking out the frantic, loud world he had been trapped in all day.

His broad shoulders were visibly heavy, curved slightly inward under the weight of sheer exhaustion after a brutal, non-stop schedule. he looked smaller in the dim light, stripped of the stage lights.

He was wearing loose, black sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his lean hips. with a slow, fluid motion of his left hand, he pulled off his dark beanie, ruffling his messy, dark hair with a quiet, tired sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of his lungs.

You're curled up on the sofa in one of his old shirts and tiny sleep shorts, legs tucked under you.

The moment he appears, you turn your head and smile softly, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. even tired, he looks unfairly handsome—sharp jawline, those piercing eyes that always seem to see right through you.

​"Hey" you said softly, your voice a gentle, welcoming thread in the quiet room.

You uncurled your legs, your bare feet padding silently over the cool hardwood floor until you were standing right in front of him. "Long day?"

Sunghoon's gaze, usually so guarded and sharp in front of the cameras, softened just a fraction the absolute second it landed on your face.

He didn't smile outright—he rarely did when he was this spent—but the tiny corner of his mouth twitched upward in that subtle, almost painfully shy way he only used when he was genuinely relieved to see someone.

When he was glad to be home.

​"Yeah" his voice was incredibly low, a rough, gravelly baritone that sounded like it hadn't been used for anything other than repeating choreography counts for the last five hours. "schedules ran late again. the filming took forever."

His voice is low, a little rough from disuse. he lets you approach, and when you reach up to help him shrug off his jacket, he murmurs "you didn't have to wait up."

​"I wanted to" you replied with a small smile.

You reached again, your fingers gently brushed a stray, damp strand of dark hair away from his forehead.

His skin felt cool, almost icy to the touch from the midnight wind outside. "you look completely exhausted, Hoon. sit down. go to the couch, i'll heat something up for you."

​"You're too good to me" he said, the words slipping out almost under his breath.

There was a faint hint of teasing dryness in his tone, that typical cold-mocking edge he used as a shield, as if he were actively mocking his own rare display of softness.

​But despite the dry comment, he obeyed.

He dropped heavily onto the leather couch with a deep, dramatic exhale that sounded like a surrender.

His long legs spread comfortably across the rug, and he leaned his head back against the cushion, his throat exposed, closing his eyes as the warmth of the apartment finally began to seep into his bones.

​In the kitchen, the soft glow of the microwave light illuminated your face as you reheated the dinner.

While the plate warmed, the quiet whirring of the appliance filling the space, you poured him a tall glass of ice-cold water, knowing how parched he always was after practicing.

​When you walked back into the living room, carrying the steaming plate, Sunghoon sat up a bit straighter.

The essence of the food seemed to wake his senses, and he accepted the plate from your hands with a small, appreciative nod.

​"Thanks" he muttered, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second.

You settle beside him, close but not crowding. he eats quietly at first, the only sounds the clink of utensils and the TV.

After a few bites, he glances sideways at you. "you ate already?"

"Mhm. saved the best portion for you, though." you smile, reaching out to rest a hand on his thigh.

He didn't pull away from the contact. instead, his free hand came down, his long, pale fingers covering yours briefly. his thumb brushed over your knuckles in a rare, incredibly shy gesture of pure affection before he caught himself.

"Bossy today" he teased lightly, that playful, mocking edge creeping right back into his voice along with a faint smirk. "making sure i eat like i'm a kid."

"Someone has to" you shot back playfully, nudging his shoulder with yours. "you'd completely forget to feed yourself if i didn't remind you."

Sunghoon chuckled softly—a low, genuine sound that vibrated right through his chest.

He shook his head, looking down at his plate. "maybe. but i remember the important things." His eyes flicked back up to you, holding your gaze meaningfully for a heavy, silent second before he returned to his food.

You smiled, leaning over to rest your chin on your hand as you simply watched him finish the meal.

The apartment felt entirely quieter now, softer, as if the rest of the chaotic world completely faded away the exact moment he walked through that door. this was your safe place—and it was his, too.

"Tell me about practice" you say gently. "you mentioned the choreo was rough today?"

Sunghoon swallows a bite and leans back against the couch, legs spread comfortably.

"Yeah. that bridge part in the new song… i kept missing the timing on the turn. Jay kept laughing at me." he gives a small, self-deprecating smirk, the kind that makes his sharp features look almost boyish.

You let out a loud laugh, the sound echoing beautifully in the dim room, and Sunghoon just watched you, his smirk softening into something so deeply tender it felt like a promise.. "sounds like a very normal day, then."

"Mhm." He takes another bite, chewing slowly. after a moment he glances at you again, his tone quieter. "it's nice coming back to this. to you. i don't have to pretend here.”

The words hang heavily in the narrow space between your bodies, incredibly simple but heavily weighted with a raw, rare honesty.

He is someone who spends twenty-four hours a day performing perfection under blinding stadium spotlights, but here, the ice melts entirely.

You reach out across the couch fabric, slowly brushing your fingertips over the smooth, cool skin of his wrist. he doesn't pull away.

Instead, with a soft, deliberate shift, he turns his palm upward and lets his long, elegant fingers slowly intertwine with yours for a few seconds—a quiet, shy display of affection he rarely ever risks showing outside these four walls.

​"You don't have to pretend with me, ever" you murmur, your thumb lightly rubbing the side of his hand.

He nods just once, his dark eyes softening until the cold glaze completely vanishes. "i know. that's why i like coming home to you."

The conversation drifts lazily after that, rolling out in a comfortable, unhurried rhythm.

He fills the quiet room with more details about the practice studio—mimicking the members' chaotic inside jokes, explaining with a small huff of a laugh how Heeseung kept deliberately messing up the vocal lyrics during the bridge rehearsal just to make everyone break character and laugh.

He talks about how the performance director praised his facial expressions during the centerpiece turn but kept instructing him to loosen his shoulders a bit more.

In return, you share the quiet pieces of your own day: a funny interaction involving a coworker, the new specialty café you decided to try near your office, and a few thoughts on the book you're currently reading.

At one point, Sunghoon sets his empty water glass down on the wooden coffee table and turns his torso toward you, a sudden, playful glint sparkling in his eyes. "Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

You already start groaning. "Hoon, no—"

"Because he was outstanding in his field" he finishes flawlessly, his face entirely deadpan, though the very corner of his mouth twitches upward into a rare, incredibly shy little smile that crinkles the edges of his eyes.

You let out a louder groan, burying your face in your open palms to hide your expression, but you're laughing entirely too hard to conceal it. "that was absolutely terrible. i genuinely can't believe you actually said that out loud with a straight face."

He shrugs his broad shoulders, looking immensely pleased with himself for breaking your composure. "You laughed. so it worked."

His amused expression slowly shifts, his dark gaze lingering on you as it traces the way his massive, oversized shirt has slipped entirely off the curve of one of your bare shoulders.

The playful edge in his eyes deepens into something slow, focused, and heavy. "you look incredibly cute like this, by the way. wearing my clothes... hair messy... absolutely no makeup on. it makes me want to just keep you locked here forever."

The compliment feels casual on the surface, but the sudden, deliberate drop in his voice sends a distinct, warm shiver straight down the length of your spine.

You can feel his eyes tracking lower, pausing on your bare thighs and the raw hem of his shirt that barely covers anything the second you shift your weight on the leather cushion.

He doesn't say anything more about it yet—he just sits back, letting the thick, electric tension hang in the air, slow and utterly delicious.

Needing to break the spell before your face burns completely red, you stand up from the sofa to gather his empty plate and cup, carrying them over to the kitchen.

As you run the tap, rinsing the ceramic under the stream of warm water, you feel his presence right behind you before you even hear his footsteps on the hardwood.

Sunghoon leans casually against the marble counter right next to the sink, his long arms crossed over his chest, watching your movements in a heavy, contemplative silence.

The air in the kitchen instantly feels five times thicker.

​"You really waited up for me again" he says softly, almost as if he's speaking to himself rather than to you.

There's a subtle hint of that teasing, slightly mocking tone he loves to hide behind, but it's completely wrapped in a deep, undeniable affection. "you're entirely too nice to me. it makes me feel incredibly spoiled."

​"I like spoiling you" you reply quietly, turning off the tap and reaching for a clean towel to dry your hands.

​When you finally turn around to face him, he is standing significantly closer than you had expected. he isn't touching you yet, but he is close enough that your senses are immediately flooded with his scent—that faint, expensive cologne.

​Sunghoon tilts his head to the side, his dark eyes studying every single line of your face the exact way he always does when he's trying to read your mind—intense, seemingly a little cold and unreadable on the surface, but radiating a deep, consuming warmth underneath.

"Yeah?" his voice drops an octave lower, turning raspy and intimate. "then maybe you should come here."

He doesn't pull you in by force. he simply waits, giving you the space to make the choice.

He lets you step forward entirely on your own terms until the front of your body is almost pressed flush against his broad chest.

One of his large, pale hands slowly comes up, his long fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his knuckles lingering heavily against the sensitive skin at the back of your neck. the touch is feather-light, but it instantly makes your pulse jump erratically against his skin.

​"I missed this" he admits in a quiet, breathless murmur, his eyes flicking downward to track the shape of your lips before rising back to meet your gaze. "missed having you all to myself like this. no rush... no managers or staff waiting outside the door. just us."

You slide your hands up his chest, feeling the intense warmth of his body through the thin black shirt. "then don't rush tonight" you whisper, your voice small in the quiet kitchen.

​A small, teasing smirk pulls at his lips, his eyes darkening with a sudden, heavy hunger. "careful what you ask for."

His thumb brushes your lower lip slowly, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "because once i start touching you... i'm not going to want to stop."

The promise in his voice is quiet, but it settles low in your stomach.

He leans in and presses a soft, almost shy kiss to your forehead first, then to the corner of your mouth—deliberately not giving you the full kiss you're starting to crave. the restraint only makes the air heavier.

​He takes your hand, his long fingers wrapping firmly around yours. "let's go to the room. i want to look at you properly."

His fingers are warm around yours as he leads you down the short hallway, pace unhurried.

You can already feel the shift in him—the calm, tired boyfriend slowly giving way to something hungrier beneath the surface.

But he's still gentle, still that same Sunghoon who needs this safe space with you before he lets the rest of his control slip.

Sunghoon's fingers stay laced with yours as he leads you down the short hallway, but his grip is firmer than usual—possessive in a quiet way. he pushes the bedroom door open with his free hand and pulls you inside, closing it behind you with a soft click that sounds louder than it should in the quiet apartment.

The moment the door shuts, he turns and backs you against it gently, one hand cupping your face while the other rests on your waist.

His thumb strokes your cheek with surprising tenderness, but his body presses closer, trapping you between the wall and his taller frame.

There's that contrast again—romantic and rough at the same time.

​"You have no idea how much i think about this when i'm gone" he murmurs, his voice low, heavy, and slightly raspy against your ear.

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, teasing kiss before pulling back just enough to speak against your skin. "coming home... knowing you're here waiting for me..."

His hand slides down from your waist to your hip, fingers digging in harder as he kisses you again—this time deeper, more demanding.

His tongue slips past your lips, claiming your mouth with a quiet hunger. when you let out a small sound, he smiles against your lips, that mocking little edge appearing.

"Already making noise?" he teases softly, nipping at your bottom lip. "we haven't even started yet."

He walks you backward toward the bed without breaking the kiss, guiding you with both hands now—one tangled in your hair, the other gripping your ass possessively over the tiny sleep shorts.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he doesn't push you down immediately. instead, he pulls back and looks at you, eyes dark and intense under the low lamplight.

"Take the shirt off for me" he says, voice calm but leaving no room for argument. there's a shy flicker in his gaze for half a second, like he's still a little embarrassed by how much he wants you, but it disappears behind that hungry stare.

You obey, pulling his oversized shirt over your head and dropping it to the floor. Sunghoon's eyes drop to your bare breasts, and he exhales sharply.

He reaches out, cupping one in his large hand, squeezing it firmly while his thumb brushes over your nipple.

"Fuck… look at you" he breathes. the words sound almost reverent, but his grip tightens, bordering on rough as he leans down and latches his mouth onto the other breast.

He sucks hard, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. he pulls back to admire the wet mark he left, then sucks again, harder, clearly intending to leave a bruise.

"Hoon—" you whimper.

He straightens up quickly, covering your mouth with his palm, eyes narrowing in that cold-yet-playful way. "shh. you know the rules. keep it quiet."

His other hand slides into your shorts, finding you already soaked cunt.

Two fingers push inside without warning, curling deep. "so wet already, baby. just from a few kisses?"

You moan against his hand, hips rolling into his fingers.

He adds a third, stretching you, pumping them slowly while his thumb circles your clit. his mouth finds your neck, sucking and biting, leaving visible marks along your collarbone and shoulder.

"Easy" he whispers against your neck, voice low and slightly raspy. his breath is warm on your skin. "we're not rushing tonight. i want to feel every little reaction."

He curls his fingers lazily, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you with precise control.

His thumb continues its unhurried circles on your clit—firm enough to make your thighs tremble, but never fast enough to push you over the edge.

Every movement is measured, almost lazy, as if he's savoring the way your walls flutter around his long fingers.

Your head tilts back. Sunghoon immediately kiss along your exposed throat, then sucking hard enough to leave another blooming mark.

"You're soaking my hand already" he murmurs, a teasing lilt in his voice. there's that faint mocking edge, but it's wrapped in affection. "so pathetic for me… dripping just because i'm touching you. my sweet, needy girl."

His free hand trails up your body, cupping one of your breasts and squeezing it firmly.

He rolls your nipple between his fingers, tugging gently, then harder, watching your face the entire time. when your breathing gets louder, he raises his hand from your chest and presses his palm tighter over your mouth.

"Shh… quiet, baby." his eyes are dark, intense, but there's a soft glint of possessiveness and care in them. "these sounds are only for me."

He keeps fingering you like that for a long time—slow, deep pumps, scissoring his fingers occasionally to stretch you more, his thumb never stopping its lazy torture on your clit.

His mouth stays on your neck and collarbones, sucking and licking, painting your skin with fresh hickeys that will be hard to hide tomorrow.

Every time your hips try to chase his hand faster, he stills his movements completely until you whimper in protest against his palm.

"Stop moving" he says softly, almost sweetly, but with clear dominance. "let me play with you."

You nod desperately, tears of frustration and pleasure already gathering in your eyes. Sunghoon notices and kisses the corner of your eye, surprisingly tender for how roughly his fingers are stretching you.

"So good..." he praises, voice dropping even lower. "look at how well you take my fingers… so tight and warm. i could do this for hours."

He finally pulls his hand away, but only to bring his glistening fingers to your lips. "clean them."

You obey immediately, sucking his fingers into your mouth with pathetic eagerness, tasting yourself on his skin.

Sunghoon watches with hooded eyes, that shy-boy flush barely visible on his cheeks even as his cock strains hard against his sweatpants.

He lets you suck for a while, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, before pulling them free with a wet pop.

Then he finally guides you fully toward the bed, one arm wrapped securely around your waist.

He lays you down gently on your back, but there's nothing gentle about the way he spreads your legs wide, taking off your shorts and panties, throwing them on the floor, knees now pushed toward your chest.

He settles between them, still fully clothed, and simply looks at you—spread open, marked, flushed and breathing hard.

"So pretty like this" he murmurs, running his hands up your thighs.

He leans down and presses a surprisingly soft kiss right above your clit, then another on your inner thigh. "my pretty girl."

His mouth finally descends, tongue dragging slowly through your folds. he takes his time—licking, sucking, savoring—while two fingers slide back inside you.

The pace remains torturously slow, building the heat in your belly inch by inch. every time you get close, he pulls back slightly, kissing your thigh or your stomach until you calm down, only to start again.

He wants you desperate. he wants you shaking. and he's going to take all night to get you there.

Sunghoon keeps his mouth on you with devastating patience.

His tongue moves in slow, broad strokes through your folds, savoring every taste like he's been starving for it all day. he hums softly against your pussy, the vibration making your thighs twitch.

"Mm… so sweet" he murmurs, lips brushing your clit before he sucks it gently between them. two long fingers slide back and forth inside you, curling lazily as he works you open.

He doesn't rush. every lick, every thrust of his fingers is deliberate, drawing out soft, broken sounds from you that he quickly silences by pressing his free hand over your mouth.

Your eyes water from the overwhelming pleasure and the effort of staying quiet.

He looks up at you from between your legs, dark eyes intense, a faint shy flush on his sharp cheekbones even as he eats you out like he owns you. he adds a third finger slowly, stretching you wider, scissoring them while his tongue flicks steadily over your swollen clit.

Every time your hips try to grind against his face, he pins them down with one strong hand, holding you still. "don't move. just take it." his tone is soft but commanding— that perfect edge that makes you feel completely pathetic and safe at the same time.

He spends long minutes like this, bringing you right to the edge with his mouth and fingers, then pulling back to kiss your inner thighs or suck fresh marks into the sensitive skin there.

When you're shaking, whimpering desperately against his palm, he finally crawls up your body.

Sunghoon kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

His bare chest presses against your breasts as he settles between your spread legs.

Without delay, his hand went to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down and freeing himself.

You can feel his hard cock, heavy and hot, resting against your soaked pussy.

He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, breathing a little heavier.

One of his large hands cups your face with surprising tenderness while the other guides his cock to your entrance, rubbing the thick head up and down your slit.

"Look at me" he whispers.

The moment your eyes meet his, he pushes in — slow, steady, inch by inch.

The stretch is intense. he's big, and the size difference always makes you feel small and overwhelmed in the best way.

A broken moan tries to escape, but he covers your mouth instantly with his hand, eyes darkening.

"Shh… that's it. take all of me" he breathes, voice rough with restraint. "fuck, such a good little slut for my cock."

He bottoms out and stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth.

He plays with your breasts greedily — squeezing, kneading, biting and sucking hard enough to leave dark marks all over the soft flesh.

His hips start moving in slow, deep, rolling thrusts, not fast yet, but powerful. each stroke drags against every sensitive spot inside you.

Sunghoon keeps one hand over your mouth the entire time, muffling every whimper and moan while the other braces beside your head.

His gaze never leaves your face, watching every expression with that intense focus.

"You're dripping everywhere, baby… making such a mess on my cock" he groans quietly, picking up the pace just a little. "so wet you get for me. my perfect, desperate girl."

The position feels intimate and filthy at the same time.

He leans down to kiss and bite your neck, adding more marks, while his hips snap harder.

The sound of skin meeting skin starts to fill the room— wet and rhythmic. he hooks one of your legs over his waist, driving even deeper, grinding against your clit with every thrust.

When your walls start clenching around him, he chokes out a quiet curse and wraps his hand gently around your throat, applying light pressure. "cum for me. let me feel this pussy squeeze my cock."

You shatter hard, eyes rolling back, body shaking beneath him.

He doesn't stop. he fucks you through it, slow and deep, drawing out every second of your orgasm until you're trembling and overstimulated.

But Sunghoon isn't done.

He pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your stomach with strong hands, and pulls your hips up roughly.

This isn't the soft, loving version. he grips your hips hard, fingers digging into your skin, and slams back inside you in one brutal thrust.

The new angle makes you cry out, and he immediately reaches forward to cover your mouth again, muffling the sound as he starts fucking you hard. skin slapping against skin echoes loudly in the bedroom— wet, filthy, relentless.

"That's it… take it" he growls, voice low and strained. one hand stays clamped over your mouth while the other spanks your ass sharply, the sting blooming hot across your skin.

He does it again, harder, then grips your hips with both hands and pounds into you.

The thrusts are deep and punishing, his cock dragging against every spot that makes your mind go blank. he spreads your cheeks slightly, thumb teasing your tight hole with light pressure— just enough to make you clench harder around him.

"So fucking pretty… creaming all over me again already" he pants, that mocking tone mixing with raw lust. "you love when i use you like this, don't you?"

He keeps the brutal pace, hips snapping forward so hard the sound of skin-on-skin is almost obscene. his hands stay locked on your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, completely controlling the rhythm.

No soft kisses on your back, no gentle touches— just raw, overwhelming possession.

"Mhng… listen to that" he groans, voice low and rough. "hear how wet your pussy is for me? greedy little thing."

He spanks you again, the sharp crack of his palm against your ass echoing.

You moan helplessly into the mattress, but he slowly leans forward, clamping his large hand over your mouth and nose for a second, smothering the sound.

"Quiet" he hisses near your ear, that cold, slightly mocking tone sending shivers down your spine. "you know i don't like it when you get loud. be a good girl and take it silently."

He straightens again, both hands returning to your hips.

The angle is brutal — his thick cock stretching you wide, hitting so deep it makes your eyes water. the size difference hits you hard; he feels enormous like this, splitting you open with every snap of his hips.

Sunghoon spreads your ass with both hands, thumbs digging into the flesh as he watches his cock disappear inside you.

He spanks you again, harder this time, then reaches around to slap the side of your breast for good measure. without warning, he pulls out completely, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing.

"On your back again."

You obey shakily. The moment you're spread open again, he’s between your legs, shoving back inside in one rough thrust.

Missionary again, but far less gentle this time. he folds you nearly in half, your knees pushed to your chest as he drives into you with deep, punishing strokes.

The overstimulation is starting to build. you've already cum once, but he doesn't slow down.

His hips snap relentlessly, cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. sweat glistens on his toned chest and sharp collarbones. that pretty face is focused and intense, eyes locked on yours as he fucks you stupid.

"You're going dumb already, huh?" he teases, voice breathy but still in control. "eyes all glassy… my perfect girl. can't even think when my cock's inside you."

The overwhelming sensation — choking, silenced, stuffed full — sends you spiraling into another orgasm. your walls flutter and squeeze around him violently, but he keeps thrusting through it, fucking you even harder.

"That's it… cum on my cock again. make a mess."

He doesn't stop. the overstimulation turns blinding. your body shakes, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as he keeps pounding into you, deep and raw, unprotected in the best way.

Finally, he pulls out and sits on the edge of the bed, stroking his glistening cock. "Come here. mouth"

You crawl to him on shaky limbs, pathetic and eager. Sunghoon threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you down. You take him into your mouth, tasting yourself all over him.

He groans quietly, head tilting back for a moment before he looks down at you again.

"Hm… use those pretty hands too."

You wrap both hands around the thick base — your hands obvious how small they look around him — stroking what you can't fit fully in your mouth.

He fucks your throat with controlled thrusts, he groans when you gag too loudly.

"Fuck… your mouth feels too good."

Sunghoon's voice is low and strained as he watches you work him with your mouth and hands. you pull back just enough to look up at him, lips shiny and swollen, breathing heavily.

"I want you so bad, Hoon…" you whisper, voice shaky with desperation. "please… i need you inside me again."

He lets out a soft, mocking chuckle, but his eyes are dark with lust. one large hand cups your jaw almost tenderly before he pulls you up.

"Then take what you want" he says, lying back against the pillows. "ride me. show me how pathetic you are for my cock."

You crawl over him eagerly, straddling his hips.

Your hand tremble slightly as you wrap it around his thick length — the size difference making your stomach flutter.

Sunghoon watches you with that intense gaze, hands resting on your thighs at first, letting you take control for the moment.

You line him up and sink down slowly, gasping at the stretch. "Ah— fuck, you're so big…" you moan, biting your lip hard.

Sunghoon's jaw tightens, his hands sliding up to grip your waist.

Once he's fully seated inside you again, you pause.

He reaches up, grabbing your breasts roughly and squeezing them, thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples.

Then he pulls you down toward him, sucking one nipple into his mouth hard, teeth grazing the skin as he leaves another dark mark.

You start moving, rolling your hips in slow, deep circles at first. the pleasure builds quickly, and soon you're bouncing on him, hands braced on his toned chest.

"Hoon… feels so good" you whimper, trying to keep your voice down. "you're so deep like this…"

His eyes flash with that mocking edge even as he thrusts up to meet you. "you sound like such a slut when you get loud."

You moan against his palm, the muffled sound making him twitch inside you.

You ride him harder, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room. sunghoon's free hand spanks your ass sharply, then again, the sting pushing you closer.

"Faster" he demands, voice rough. "ride me like you mean it. show me how much you missed my cock."

You obey, bouncing faster, thighs burning. he keep playing with your breasts greedily, sucking and biting them while you move.

"Look at me" he orders. your eyes meet his and the intensity makes you clench hard around him. "…creaming all over me. my needy little slut."

The overstimulation hits as you cum hard on his cock, body shaking. Sunghoon doesn't let you slow down.

He grips your hips with both hands and starts thrusting up into you roughly from below, fucking you through your orgasm.

"Don't stop" he growls. "you're not done yet."

After a few more moments, you switch into reverse cowgirl, back facing him.

He pulls your hips down and immediately starts guiding you, spanking your ass hard as you ride him. his thumb teases your ass again, pressing in slightly while you move.

"Fuck, this view…" he mutters, voice thick. "such a pretty, ruined pussy taking me so well."

You brace your hands on his thighs, moving desperately. "Hoon— i can't… it's too much…" you whimper.

"Yes you can" he says, almost sweetly, but his thrusts are brutal. "you're going to cum again for me."

He reaches around to rub your clit, never stopping the rough pace.

Another orgasm crashes over you, leaving you trembling and overstimulated. leaving his cock creamy again.

Sunghoon flips you onto your side, spooning you from behind. He hooks one of your legs over his and slides back in, fucking you with deep, grinding strokes while one hand covers your mouth.

"You're shaking so much" he murmurs against your neck, biting down to leave another mark.

Sunghoon finally reaches his limit. he pulls you up against his chest, one hand covering your mouth as he fucks you with short, devastating thrusts.

"Gonna fill you up" he rasps against your ear. "take all my cum, baby.."

With a low, strained groan he buries himself to the hilt and cums hard, pulsing deep inside you. you feel every hot spurt as he fills you, grinding slowly to push it deeper while he rides out his orgasm.

He stays buried inside you for a long moment, breathing heavily against your neck, body trembling slightly from the intensity.

Sunghoon's grip slowly loosens. the rough dominance melts away as he carefully pulls out of you and turns you gently onto your back.

He looks exhausted — eyes heavy, shoulders slumped, the long day finally catching up to him now that the tension has been drained from his body.

"Come here..." he whispers, voice hoarse and soft.

He pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest with surprising tenderness. one hand strokes your back in slow, soothing circles while the other gently wipes the tears from your cheeks.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, and the marks he left on your neck. "i was pretty rough tonight… but fuck, i needed that. needed you."

You nod weakly, curling deeper into him. "i'm okay… just sensitive."

He hums in understanding and reaches for the water bottle, helping you take small sips before cleaning you up with a warm towel. His touches are feather-light now, careful around every hickey.

"You did so well for me" he murmurs, that shy, gentle side fully returning. "always waiting for me… always taking everything i give you."

He pulls the blanket over both of you and holds you close, legs tangled together. the exhaustion is clear on his face — eyes already half-closed, body heavy and relaxed against yours.

"Today was endless" he admits softly, nuzzling into your hair. "but now… i'm more than satisfied. i can finally rest."

His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin as his breathing slows. "stay right here with me" he whispers, already drifting off. "don't move. i've got you."

Within minutes, Sunghoon is fast asleep — completely spent, satisfied, and peaceful with you safe in his arms.

You had been in love with Jay Park since the second year of high school.

It started as something quieter than a crush — a slow, warm pull every time he leaned over your desk to show you a riff on his phone, or when he'd wait for you after class with one earbud dangling, offering the other so you could listen to the same song.

He was always cool, a little sharp with his humor, but never cruel.

He remembered the small things: how you liked your coffee, the way you fiddled with your sleeves when you were nervous, the fact that you secretly wanted to learn guitar even though you were convinced your fingers were too clumsy.

Two months had passed since graduation, and the two of you had slipped into this strange new version of adulthood.

No more uniforms, no more bells dictating your day. just late nights, cheap takeout, and the growing tension that neither of you had named.

You told yourself it was just a silly, accumulation of caring over the years.

But lately it had become something heavier. needier.

Because it wasn't just his smile or the way he looked at you like he could read every thought behind your eyes.

It was the guitar lessons.

Every few nights you ended up in his room — that warm, low-lit sanctuary at the back of his aparment.

Soft golden lighting, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with wood polish and whatever bottle of wine he'd opened that evening.

He'd sit behind you on the bed or on that worn leather stool, chest brushing your back as he guided your fingers along the fretboard.

His voice would drop low when he corrected your posture, breath warm against your ear.

And every single time, you left that room wet, aching, and painfully aware of how badly you wanted more than just his hands on yours.

Tonight, that ache felt louder than usual.

The restaurant was still buzzing when you all stepped outside.

The four of you had taken over a corner table for nearly three hours — pasta plates half-empty, bottles of soju and beer scattered like evidence.

Heeseung had been the calm anchor as always, laughing deeply at Jake's ridiculous stories about his latest failed attempt at cooking.

Jake, true to form, had been loud and playful, teasing you about how red your cheeks got after your third glass.

"Alright, i'm tapping out" Heeseung said, stretching his arms above his head. he grinned at you and Jay. "you two heading back too?"

Jake slung an arm around your shoulders for a second, giving you a quick squeeze. "don't let Jay bore you to death with more guitar talk."

You laughed, the sound a little loose from the alcohol. "too late. i think i'm officially addicted."

Jay stood a step behind you, hands in the pockets of his dark jacket, watching the exchange with that trademark half-smirk.

He hadn't drunk much — maybe one beer the whole night. he never did when he knew he'd be the one making sure everyone got home safe.

"Get home safe, hyung" Jay told Heeseung, bumping fists. "Jake, stop burning your kitchen down."

Jake flipped him off playfully as he and Heeseung headed toward the main road to catch a cab. you waved until they disappeared around the corner, the streetlights catching their silhouettes.

And then it was just you and Jay.

It was barely past 9 PM, but the city had already slipped into that quieter, darker version of itself.

The restaurant sat on a side street lined with closed shops and a few scattered people hurrying home.

Neon signs flickered softly in the distance. your cheeks felt warm, the alcohol humming pleasantly in your veins, making everything feel a little softer around the edges.

Jay glanced at you, dark eyes scanning your face.

"You good?" he asked, voice low and steady. "you look a little flushed."

"I'm fine" you answered, maybe a touch too quickly.

You smiled up at him, feeling bolder than usual. "just… warm. and i don't really want to go home yet. my brothers are probably screaming at some video game right now. your place is quieter."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. that familiar mix of amusement and something unreadable.

"You sure? i can drop you off. you drank more than usual tonight."

You stepped a little closer, the alcohol loosening your usual shyness. "i'm sure. i'd rather be with you."

The words came out softer than you meant them to, almost flirty. Jay's gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than normal before he nodded.

"Alright. let's go."

The walk to his place wasn't long.

Jay kept pace beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed every few steps. he didn't say much, but he was always like that — comfortable in silence.

Every once in a while he'd glance over to make sure you were steady on your feet.

When you finally reached his apartment, you stepped into his room, the familiar warmth settled over you like a blanket.

The lighting was exactly how he liked it: soft, gold tones from the tall floor lamp in the corner.

His acoustic guitar rested on its stand beside the electric one. a half-finished bottle of red wine sat on the low wooden table next to two clean glasses.

The small leather couch had a couple of blankets thrown over it, and the walls held photos — some of the group, some of just the two of you from random outings over the years.

It smelled like him: wood, faint cologne, and that subtle hint of wine that always seemed to linger here.

Jay shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the back of his chair.

"Sit" he said, nodding toward the couch. "i'll get you some water first. you're going to thank me tomorrow."

You dropped onto the couch, watching him move around the room with that effortless confidence.

Even after years of friendship, you never got tired of looking at him. the sharp line of his jaw, the way his black hair fell across his forehead, the casual way his shirt stretched across his shoulders.

He came back with a glass of cold water and handed it to you before pouring himself a small amount of wine.

"You're really not that drunk, are you?" you asked, teasing lightly as you sipped the water.

Jay chuckled, settling beside you on the couch. not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat of his body.

"I'm sober enough to know you're tipsy" he replied, voice smooth. "and sober enough to know you get chatty when you are."

You laughed softly, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

The alcohol made your thoughts swirl — memories of all those guitar lessons mixing with the deeper, filthier ones you tried to push down.

You'd been in love with him for years.

But lately, the need had grown teeth.

It wasn't just romantic anymore.

You wanted him.

Wanted his hands on you for reasons that had nothing to do with chord positions. wanted to know what his mouth felt like. wanted to taste him.

To have his cock in your mouth, heavy and warm, to hear the way his voice would break if you took him deep.

Not anyone else's. just Jay's.

Those thoughts had been getting louder since the lessons started two months ago.

Every time his fingers covered yours on the strings, every time his chest pressed against your back and he murmured instructions against your ear… you left his room throbbing, panties ruined, fingers slipping between your legs the second you got home.

And now here you were again, in his room, a little drunk, heart racing.

"Now you're quiet" Jay observed, tilting his head. his dark eyes studied you carefully. "what's going on in that head of yours?"

You bit your lip, feeling heat rise to your cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

"Just… thinking about how long we've been friends" you said, keeping your voice light. "feels weird sometimes. like we're actual adults now."

Jay hummed in agreement, taking a slow sip of wine. "yeah. but some things don't change." he glanced at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. "you still suck at guitar."

You gasped dramatically, shoving his shoulder. he laughed — that low, rich sound you loved — and caught your wrist gently before you could pull away.

"See? still easy to mess with."

His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, just once. the touch sent electricity straight down your spine. you didn't pull away.

The air between you felt thicker than usual. the golden lighting cast soft shadows across his face, making him look even more unfairly handsome. you could smell his cologne again, warm and familiar.

"Jay…" you started, not even sure what you wanted to say.

He raised an eyebrow, still holding your wrist loosely.

"Yeah?"

You swallowed. the need you’d been carrying for years — the filthy, aching want — sat heavy on your tongue. but you weren't brave enough yet.

Instead, you just smiled, shy but warm, and leaned your head against his shoulder like you'd done a hundred times before.

"I'm glad you're my best friend" you whispered.

Jay was quiet for a moment. then his hand shifted, resting lightly on your knee.

"Me too" he murmured.

But his fingers stayed there, warm through the fabric of your jeans, and neither of you moved to change the subject.

The night was still young, and the tension that had been building for years felt dangerously close to spilling over.

The water helped a little, but the alcohol still buzzed warmly through your system, making your limbs feel loose and your thoughts dangerously unguarded.

You watched Jay move across the room with that effortless grace he always had. he reached for one of his guitars, and your breath caught.

He picked up the acoustic — his prized custom-made gibson Vesper.

The instrument looked beautiful under the soft café-gold lighting: dark wood with elegant black binding, sleek and modern with a vampire-inspired design he'd once explained to you in detail.

It was his baby, the one he played when he wanted something intimate and warm-toned.

"I've been working on a new melody" he said casually, settling on the stool across from the couch. his long fingers wrapped around the neck of the Vesper like it was an extension of himself. "want to hear it?"

You nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. "yeah… show me."

He strummed a few soft chords first, then launched into the short piece. just five or six seconds of a smooth, melancholic melody that shifted into something warmer, almost seductive in its simplicity.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration, lips parted just a fraction as he focused. the way his fingers moved — precise, confident, pressing and sliding along the frets — made heat pool low in your stomach.

God, you didn't even know if you actually cared about learning guitar anymore.

Was it the music? or was it just him?

The way his forearms flexed, the focused set of his jaw, the way the warm light caught on his sharp cheekbones and made his dark hair look softer.

You wanted him so badly it embarrassed you sometimes.

Especially tonight, with the alcohol making your skin feel too hot and your inhibitions paper-thin.

In your head, the thoughts were already spiraling: kneeling between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth, tasting him, hearing that low voice of his break while you sucked him deep. not just any dick. his.

Jay finished the short melody and looked up, smirking when he saw your expression.

"Not bad, right?" he asked.

"It was beautiful" you said honestly, your voice a little breathy. "i love how it sounds on the Vesper."

He stood and walked over, offering you the guitar. "you know the basics now. let's try teaching you your first real short melody. nothing too crazy."

You took the Vesper carefully, the wood warm from his hands.

On the outside, you looked focused and innocent, adjusting the strap and sitting up straighter.

"Posture." Jay reminded you.

He moved behind you on the couch, one leg on either side of your body so he could reach around. his chest pressed lightly against your back as he corrected the angle of the guitar on your lap.

One hand settled on your shoulder to straighten your back, the other sliding down to adjust your left hand on the fretboard.

His touch was warm. deliberate.

You bit your lip hard without thinking, a quiet little sound escaping as his fingers covered yours, guiding them into position. the alcohol made it impossible to hide your reaction — your cheeks burned, your thighs pressed together instinctively.

Jay paused. you could feel him smirk against the side of your head.

"Easy there" he murmured, voice low and teasing near your ear. "don't break my strings with that death grip. or is the Vesper too much for you tonight?"

You let out a shaky laugh. "shut up. i'm trying."

He didn't move away immediately. his fingers stayed over yours a second longer than necessary, then he pulled back just enough to watch but remained close.

"Go ahead. start with the first four chords i showed you last time. slow."

You tried.

Your fingers felt clumsier than usual from the drinks, but you managed to hit the notes — not fluid, not pretty, but recognizable. better than a total beginner.

The Vesper's rich tone filled the room even with your imperfect playing.

Jay hummed approvingly. "not terrible. you're improving."

Then, out of nowhere, he dropped the bomb.

"So… how was that blind date with Sunghoon a week ago?"

Your fingers slipped. a horrible, discordant twang rang out from the guitar. you winced.

"Why are you asking about that?" you said quickly, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Jay shrugged, leaning back against the couch but still watching you closely. his expression was casual, but his eyes were sharp. "just curious. Jake mentioned Sunghoon told him you two… hooked up."

The room felt suddenly warmer. you stared down at the guitar, fingers frozen on the strings.

It was true.

You'd gone on that blind date desperate to convince yourself that your insane attraction to Jay was just horniness. just lack of sex.

Sunghoon was good-looking, you'd slept with him after a couple of drinks. the sex had been… fine. mechanically okay.

But it left you emptier than before. because all you could think about during and after was Jay. how you wished it was Jay's hands, Jay's mouth.

It had only made your filthy fantasies about your best friend worse.

You tried to play it off, strumming a few awkward notes that sounded completely off-key. "Jake needs to mind his own business. why is he such a gossip?"

Jay chuckled, that low, amused sound that always sent shivers down your spine. he reached over and gently corrected your finger placement again, his touch lingering.

"Because he's Jake. and you're avoiding the question."

You huffed, the alcohol making you bolder even as embarrassment burned your face. "it happened, okay? it was… whatever. not life-changing."

Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by how flustered you were getting. "not life-changing? damn. poor Sunghoon. but ifeel like details are missing."

You shot him a look, trying to sound defensive. "i've grown up, you know. i'm not that irresponsible girl from high school who told you every dirty detail about her first time in graphic, disgusting detail anymore."

Jay laughed outright at that, leaning closer again. his breath brushed your neck.

"Oh yeah? because i remember that conversation very clearly. you did not hold back. 'it felt like a sad hot dog in a hallway' was the line that still lives rent-free in my head."

You groaned, covering your face with one hand while still awkwardly holding the guitar with the other. "i was drunk and stupid! and like… seventeen."

"You're still a little drunk tonight" he pointed out, voice teasing but softer. "and still oversharing, apparently."

The conversation hung between you, heavy with years of history. you tried to play again, but your notes kept clashing — messy, out of rhythm, completely unfocused.

Jay didn't stop you. he just watched, eyes dark and thoughtful under the warm lighting.

You sighed. "it was just an escape, Jay. i thought maybe if i… did something, it would quiet my head. but it didn't. it was okay, but… it wasn't..." you trailed off, not brave enough to finish that sentence.

It wasn't you.

Jay was quiet for a long moment. his hand came to rest on your lower back, a casual but intimate touch as he leaned in to adjust your right hand strumming position.

"You're thinking too hard" he said eventually, voice low. "that's why it sounds like the guitar is in pain."

You laughed despite yourself, the sound shaky.

Being this close to him, drunk, with his hands on you and your mind full of filthy thoughts about sucking him off right here in this room… it was torture.

The lesson continued like that for a while longer.

Jay guided you through the simple melody, patient even when your playing fell apart. every correction involved him touching you — fingers on yours, hand on your waist to fix posture, knee brushing your thigh.

Each touch sent sparks through your body.

At one point you shifted on the couch, and your thigh pressed firmly against his. you didn't move away. neither did he.

"You're really warm" he commented after a while, almost absentmindedly. "still feeling the drinks?"

"Yeah" you admitted, biting your lip again as his fingers guided yours into a new chord. "everything feels… a lot right now."

Jay hummed. his voice dropped lower. "i can tell."

The air in the room felt thicker.

And as Jay leaned in once more to correct your hand, his lips accidentally brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured instructions, you wondered how much longer you could keep pretending this was just about learning guitar.

The warmth of his breath sent a shiver racing down your spine. you froze, fingers stiffening on the frets of the Vesper.

The rich, dark wood of the guitar felt heavier in your lap now, like it knew the real reason your heart was hammering.

"I… i think i can't keep playing right now" you admitted, voice softer than you intended. the alcohol made your words feel thick on your tongue. "i'd love to, though. your Vesper sounds so beautiful. it's honestly such a pretty guitar. the tone is just… perfect."

Jay pulled back slightly, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. that sound — God, that sound — always did dangerous things to you.

He reached around you to gently take the guitar from your hands, his fingers brushing over yours one last time.

"Yeah? she's my favorite for a reason" he said, standing up with the instrument.

He walked over to the stand and carefully placed the custom Gibson Vesper back in its spot, adjusting it with the same care he always showed his things.

You watched him move, the soft golden lighting casting gentle shadows along his shoulders and arms.

The room felt smaller now. cozier. the faint scent of wine still lingered in the air, mixing with his cologne and the wood polish from his guitars.

He turned back to you, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans. "it's getting late anyway. past eleven already. you're pretty drunk, and i'm not letting you go home like this. you can just stay over. saves time, and your brothers are probably still up causing chaos."

You let out a bright, tipsy laugh, the kind that came out a little too loud because of the alcohol. "yeah? okay. i'd like that. a lot, actually."

Jay's smirk deepened, but there was something softer behind it. "didn't even think twice, huh?"

"Nope" you said, popping the 'p' playfully.

He walked over to the built-in closet near the back of the room and pulled out clothes. two oversized t-shirts — one black, one dark gray — and a pair of soft black pajama shorts.

He held them out to you.

'Here. you can wear these. that dress looks cute but it's not exactly sleep-friendly. too cold in here at night if you're not covered up properly."

You stood up, a little unsteady, and took the clothes from him.

Your fingers brushed his, and you felt that familiar spark again. "thanks, Jay."

Before he could say anything else, you grabbed the bundle and slipped behind the heavy cream-colored curtain that separated the small changing corner from the rest of the room.

It was something he'd put up after one too many late-night study sessions when you'd crash here.

You heard him laugh quietly on the other side.

"Drunk you is way shyer than sober you" he teased, voice warm with amusement. "usually you just strip down in front of me like i'm not even here. claiming 'we're best friends, it doesn't matter.' but the second alcohol hits… curtain time."

You fumbled with the zipper of your dress, cheeks burning. "shut up. i'm being responsible."

"Responsible" he echoed, clearly not buying it. you could hear him moving around, already changing too. "sure."

"I am!" you called back, laughing as you pulled his t-shirt over your head. it smelled like him — clean laundry, faint cologne, and that comforting warmth that always made your stomach flip.

The shorts were a little loose on your hips, but they were soft and comfortable. "i've grown up. i'm not that chaotic high school girl anymore."

You stepped out from behind the curtain, adjusting the hem of the oversized shirt. and then you stopped dead.

Jay was in the middle of pulling his own shirt on.

He already had the gray pajama shorts on, hanging low on his hips, but his torso was still bare. the warm lighting highlighted every line of muscle on his chest and abdomen — the result of casual gym sessions.

His skin looked smooth, shoulders broad, that sharp V-line disappearing into the waistband of his shorts.

You let out a soft, involuntary exhale, almost a gasp. your heart skipped hard.

Jay noticed immediately. he tugged the shirt down quickly, but not before you got a full view.

His eyebrow arched, that signature smirk returning.

"Damn. you really are wasted tonight" he said, voice low and teasing as he stepped closer. "if you want, i can tie you up so you can control yourself better. keep those wandering eyes in check."

Your brain short-circuited for a second.

Yes. God, yes. tie me up. use me. anything.

The filthy thought flashed through your mind so fast it made you dizzy. but on the outside, you just let out a nervous laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly.

"Stop it" you mumbled, still smiling. "i'm fine. perfectly fine. just… surprised you're changing in the middle of the room, that's all."

He chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. "this is my room. and you've seen me shirtless plenty of times. at the beach last summer, remember? or when we went swimming at Sunoo's parents' pool?"

"That was different" you muttered, walking over to the couch and dropping down onto it, pulling one of the soft blankets over your legs.

Your face felt hot. the alcohol wasn't helping you hide anything.

Jay followed, sitting on the other end of the couch but turning toward you. the room felt even more intimate now — just the two of you in comfortable clothes, the golden lights dimmed slightly, the faint sound of the city outside barely audible.

"So" he said after a moment, grabbing the half-empty bottle of water and taking a sip before offering it to you. "you really didn't enjoy it with Sunghoon?"

You groaned, covering your face with both hands. "we're back to this?"

"I'm curious" he said simply. "you're my best friend. if some guy didn't treat you right or couldn't make it good for you, i need to know. i'll kick his ass if necessary."

You peeked at him through your fingers. he looked genuinely relaxed, but there was that focused intensity in his eyes again — the same one he got when he was trying to read you.

"It wasn't bad" you said slowly, lowering your hands. "he was… nice. polite. good-looking, obviously. but it just felt… mechanical. like we were both going through the motions. i thought maybe sleeping with someone would help clear my head about certain things, but it only made it worse."

Jay tilted his head. "worse how?"

You shrugged, tracing patterns on the blanket with your finger.

Your mind was still swirling with images you couldn't say out loud —his low groans filling this exact room.

"Just… confirmed some stuff" you said vaguely. "that i'm probably not built for casual stuff. my brain gets too loud."

Jay was quiet for a beat. then he shifted closer, stretching his arm along the back of the couch until his fingers lightly brushed your shoulder again.

"You've always been like that" he murmured. "even back in high school. you overthink everything. except when you're telling me way too many details about your personal life."

You laughed, the sound breathy. "i was young and stupid. and you were the only person i trusted enough to say that stuff to."

"Still am?" he asked, voice quieter now.

You met his eyes. the tension between you felt alive, humming under the surface. "yeah. still you."

The silence stretched comfortably. Jay eventually stood up. he grabbed another blanket and tossed it over you before settling back down — closer this time, so your legs were almost touching.

"Remember when we first became friends?" he asked suddenly, staring at the ceiling. "you used to sit there during lunch, pretending you weren't listening to me play. i thought you were cute. shy, but cute."

Your heart fluttered. "i had the biggest crush on you for like… two years before i even admitted it to myself."

Jay turned his head to look at you, surprise flickering across his face for a split second before that cool mask returned. "Yeah?"

"Yeah" you whispered, the alcohol making you honest. "but you were always so… you. cool. talented. out of reach. so i settled for being your best friend instead."

He didn't answer right away. instead, he reached over and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. his touch lingered.

"You're not out of reach to me" he said softly.

The words hung heavy in the air. your body felt warm all over — from the drinks, from his proximity, from years of wanting.

You turned onto your side to face him better, the blanket slipping down slightly.

"Jay… can i ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Have you ever… thought about me like that? more than just a friend?"

He was quiet for a long moment, dark eyes studying your face. then he gave you that half-smirk again, the one that made your knees weak.

"I'm not drunk enough to answer that tonight."

You laughed, but there was nervous excitement bubbling inside you. "coward."

"Maybe" he said, chuckling. "or maybe i'm just responsible. one of us has to be when the other is this tipsy."

You spent the next hour talking like that — about old memories, stupid fights you had in high school, the group chats with Heeseung and Jake that always got chaotic, how weird it felt to be actual adults now.

Eventually, you both were in bed under thin blankets.

Jay's voice was low and soothing. every once in a while his hand would brush your arm, casual touches that felt anything but.

At some point you shifted, and your head ended up resting against his chest.

He didn't push you away. instead, his arm came around you, holding you loosely.

"You're warm" you mumbled sleepily, the alcohol finally catching up to you fully.

"So are you" he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Your mind kept drifting back to filthy places even as sleep pulled at you — imagining sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts, tasting his skin, hearing him say your name in that deep tone.

But for now, you let yourself enjoy the closeness. the safety.

Jay's fingers traced slow patterns on your back through the t-shirt.

"Get some sleep" he murmured against the top of your head. "we'll talk more in the morning. when you're sober."

You nodded, eyes already closing.

But even as you drifted off, safe in his arms in the soft golden light of his room, you knew one thing for certain:

Pretending was getting harder and harder.

You lay there for what felt like forever, curled against his side under the soft blanket, but sleep refused to come.

The alcohol had loosened your body, but your mind was wide awake, buzzing with years of suppressed feelings and the heavy warmth of Jay's arm draped loosely around you.

Every small shift of his body, every steady breath he took, made your skin prickle with awareness.

Jay wasn't sleeping either. you knew him too well — he never could fully relax until he knew you were safe and asleep. it was one of those quiet protective habits he'd had since high school.

With a soft sigh, you sat up slowly, the oversized t-shirt slipping slightly off one shoulder. you stayed close, your thigh still pressed against his.

Jay shifted beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. his dark hair was slightly messy, and his eyes scanned your face with that familiar sharpness.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly.

You shook your head. "too many thoughts."

He hummed in understanding but didn't push. for a moment, comfortable silence settled between you again. then you spoke, the alcohol still giving you just enough courage.

"You know… i doubt Jake would've randomly told you about Sunghoon unless you asked him first." you turned your head to look at him directly. "so why the curiosity, Jay?"

Jay let out a slow sigh, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the ceiling for a second. when he looked back at you, his expression was calm but serious.

"Because you're my best friend" he said simply. "it's my job to look out for you. to make sure no dickhead hurts you, gets your hopes up, or leaves you feeling like shit afterward. i've been doing that since we were in secondary school. nothing's changed."

You fell quiet, processing his words.

The weight of them sat heavy in your chest. his protection had always felt safe… but lately it felt like something more. something that made your stomach twist in confusing, needy ways.

Jay noticed your silence. he tilted his head slightly. "why are you thinking about all of this right now? you know i worry about you. that's not new."

You bit your lip, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. "i guess… i've been wondering lately if i've ever mistaken your protection for something else. like… possessiveness."

Jay stared at you for a beat, then let out a low, genuine laugh — the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

He sat up fully now, swinging his legs so he was facing you directly. the movement brought him much closer, your knees nearly touching, his presence suddenly filling your space.

"Possessiveness?" he repeated, still chuckling in disbelief. "you're way too drunk to be throwing words like that around."

You met his gaze, your heart beating faster. "i'm drunk, but i'm sober enough to notice that you're the one acting weird tonight."

Jay laughed again, softer this time, shaking his head. "me? weird?"

He leaned in a little, voice dropping. "you're the one whose breathing keeps changing every time i get close. the one who keeps pressing your thighs together when my hand brushes your arm or when i fix your posture during lessons. you think i don't notice?"

Your mouth went dry. heat flooded your cheeks.

He was right — painfully right. you'd been doing exactly that for the past two months during every guitar session. and tonight, with the alcohol stripping away your filters, it was impossible to hide.

You stayed silent for a long moment, just looking at him. then you put on that fake-innocent expression you knew he could see right through — wide eyes, slight tilt of your head.

"If you know all of that… why don't you do anything about it?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. Jay's smirk faded into something more intense, more focused. his dark eyes searched yours carefully.

"Because i'd never do anything you haven't asked for" he said, voice low and steady. "not with you. never."

Your face grew hotter. you could feel the blush spreading down your neck.

The tension in the room thickened, wrapping around both of you. you were hyper-aware of everything: the way his bare arm looked under the golden light, the faint scent of his skin mixed with the laundry detergent on the t-shirt he was wearing, how close his mouth was if you just leaned forward a few inches.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "and if i did ask… would you give it to me?"

Jay didn't answer with words right away.

Instead, he reached out slowly, his fingers gently brushing your hair away from your face before tucking it carefully behind your ear.

The touch was light, but it sent electricity racing across your skin. His hand lingered there for a second, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

Then he nodded. once. slow and deliberate.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

The simple gesture and that quiet confirmation made your stomach flip violently.

In your mind, the thoughts rushed in unfiltered — filthy, desperate images of his hands on your body, his voice in your ear, finally giving in to what you'd wanted for years. but you stayed still, letting the tension stretch.

Jay's eyes stayed locked on yours, calm but burning with something deeper. he didn't move closer or pull away. he just waited, giving you the space to decide what came next.

"You're really going to make me say it out loud, huh?" you murmured, a nervous little smile tugging at your lips.

He smirked again, that trademark Jay confidence returning. "i'm not assuming anything with you. i've known you too long. if this is what you want, you're going to have to be clear."

You let out a shaky breath, shifting slightly on the bed.

Your thigh pressed more firmly against his. neither of you moved away.

"I've wanted this for so long" you admitted quietly, the alcohol and years of repression loosening your tongue.

"Not just tonight. since we were in high school. every time you taught me guitar… every time we'd end up here talking until 3 a.m.… it's been driving me crazy."

Jay listened without interrupting, his expression unreadable but his body language open.

He moved one hand on the bed near your leg, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

"You hid it well" he said eventually, voice rougher than before. "most of the time."

"Guess i'm not hiding it anymore."

He chuckled softly. "No. you're really not."

Another stretch of heavy silence. your eyes dropped to his mouth for a second before flicking back up. Jay noticed, of course.

He always noticed.

"You're nervous" he observed, not teasing this time. just stating it. "your pulse is going crazy right here." his fingers lightly touched the side of your neck, feeling your heartbeat.

You didn't deny it. instead, you leaned into his touch just slightly.

"I'm nervous because it's you" you whispered. "because if we do this… it changes everything."

Jay's thumb brushed slowly along your jaw. "it doesn't have to. not unless we want it to."

His words were careful, responsible — so typically Jay.

Even now, when the air between you crackled with years of built-up desire, he was still thinking about protecting what you had. it only made you want him more.

You stayed like that for a while longer, talking in low voices.

Every small movement — your fingers brushing his arm — felt loaded.

The tension was thick enough to taste. your body ached with it, a deep, warm need that had been growing for years, sharpened by every guitar lesson, every late-night conversation, every moment you'd spent pretending.

But still, you didn't cross the line. not yet.

The silence between you stretched, thick and electric. your heart hammered so hard you were sure he could hear it.

The soft lighting in Jay's room wrapped around both of you like a secret, making every small movement feel heavier than it should.

You shifted closer on the bed, moving until you were on your knees beside him.

Jay was leaning back against the pillows in a way that left space — deliberate space. if you wanted to climb on him, kiss him, do anything… he wouldn't pull away. his dark eyes followed you calmly, patient as always.

"You don't have to feel any pressure" he said quietly, voice low and steady. "even Heeseung and Jake noticed. they've been telling me for weeks how obviously into me you are. i couldn't exactly deny feeling it too… but i didn't want to make things weird between us."

His honesty hit you hard. you leaned in slowly and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a second. his skin was warm under your lips.

"I don't want things to get uncomfortable either" you whispered against his cheek. "if we do this… if something happens… i promise i can pretend it never did. until we figure out how we really feel. no pressure on you either.”

Jay nodded once, then shifted back until he was leaning against the headboard of his bed.

The blankets were rumpled around you both.

You hesitated only a moment longer before swinging one leg over his lap and settling yourself straddling him.

The oversized t-shirt you wore rode up your thighs slightly as you sat down. Jay's hands came up naturally to rest on your waist — steady, supportive, but respectful.

His fingers didn't wander lower. he simply held you there, giving you balance without pushing for more.

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. you were both breathing a little heavier. your hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under the thin fabric of his shirt.

You traced small, nervous circles with your fingertips, exploring the firm muscle you'd stared at so many times during those guitar lessons.

Jay watched you closely, that cool, observant expression still on his face even now.

"You've been thinking about this for a long time, haven't you?" he murmured.

You nodded, biting your lip. your hands slid slowly up his chest to his shoulders, then back down again, feeling the warmth of him through the shirt. "yeah… especially during those lessons. every time you sat behind me… every time your hands were on mine…"

You leaned forward and kissed his other cheek, then the corner of his jaw. your fingers kept moving, sliding over his collarbones, down his arms, learning the shape of him like you'd wanted to for years.

Jay's grip on your waist tightened just slightly — not enough to control, just enough to show he was affected.

"You have no idea how hard it's been keeping my hands where they belong during those lessons" he said, voice dropping lower, a little rougher around the edges.

"Sitting that close to you, feeling you react every time i touch your fingers… knowing you're getting wet just from that. it's been driving me fucking crazy too."

Your breath hitched at his words. the slight dirty edge to them — so rare from him — sent heat rushing through your whole body. you pressed your palms flat against his chest again, feeling how his breathing had changed.

"I want you to teach me what good sex feels like, Jay" you finally whispered, the words spilling out shy but honest.

Your face burned as you said it, but you didn't look away.

Jay's eyes darkened, but he still held himself back. his thumbs brushed slow, soothing circles on your waist over the t-shirt.

"You're sure?" he asked, even now checking. "we can stop anytime. this doesn't change anything if you don't want it to."

"I'm sure" you breathed.

You leaned in and finally kissed him properly.

The first kiss was soft — tentative, testing.

His lips were warm and surprisingly gentle against yours. then you tilted your head a little more, deepening it, and Jay responded with a low hum that vibrated through his chest.

One of his hands stayed firmly on your waist while the other came up to cup the back of your neck, not pulling, just supporting.

You kissed him again, slower this time, savoring it. your hands grew bolder, sliding under the hem of his shirt to touch bare skin.

You traced the lines of his abs, feeling the way his stomach tensed under your fingertips. Jay let out a quiet breath against your mouth when your nails grazed lightly over his skin.

"Fuck..." he muttered between kisses, voice husky. "you've been holding back a lot, haven't you? all those times you sat in this room acting innocent while your mind was somewhere filthy…"

You smiled shyly against his lips, still that mix of timid and needy. "Maybe."

Your hands kept exploring — running up his back, feeling the muscle there, then back to his chest.

You could feel how hard his heart was beating. you shifted slightly in his lap, not grinding, just adjusting closer, and Jay's fingers flexed on your waist.

He kissed you again, a little deeper this time, his tongue brushing yours carefully. when you pulled back for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

"You're shaking" he observed quietly, always noticing everything. "still nervous?"

"A little" you admitted, your fingers still tracing patterns on his chest under his shirt. "but i want this. i've wanted it for so long."

Jay's hand slid up your back in a slow, comforting stroke. "then we take it slow. i'm not rushing anything with you."

His voice dropped again, that slight dirty tone returning. "even if i've thought about bending you over that guitar stool more times than i should admit."

Your face flushed hot. you kissed him again to hide your embarrassment, hands cupping his face now.

The kiss grew heavier, more urgent, but Jay kept control — never letting his hands move lower than your waist, never pushing your hips down against him.

You broke the kiss and pressed your face into his neck, breathing him in as your fingers continued their slow exploration of his torso.

You could feel him getting hard beneath you, but he made no move to do anything about it.

"Tell me what you've thought about" you whispered against his skin, shy but curious.

Jay let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your cheek. "you really want to hear that right now?"

You nodded, kissing his neck softly.

He exhaled slowly. "a lot of nights after you left these lessons… i thought about how pretty you look when you're concentrated. how your breathing changes when i get close. thought about what sounds you'd make if i finally touched you properly instead of pretending it was just about guitar chords."

Your thighs squeezed instinctively around his hips. Jay noticed but didn't comment on it, just kept talking in that low, controlled voice.

"I've wondered how you'd taste" he added, almost casually. "how you'd look sitting on my lap like this, trying so hard to stay quiet because your brothers might hear if we were at your house."

You let out a shaky breath, your hands tightening on his shoulders.

The tension was almost unbearable now — heavy, aching, delicious. you kissed him again, deeper, your body pressing closer against his chest while your hands roamed freely under his shirt.

Jay kissed you back with the same measured intensity, one hand still steady on your waist, the other gently threading through your hair. he was hard beneath you, you could feel it clearly, but he remained the same Jay — cool-headed, teasing even now.

"You're going to kill me if you keep touching me like that" he murmured against your lips, a hint of a smirk in his voice. "those hands have been driving me insane for months."

You smiled, a little breathless, and kissed the corner of his mouth. "good. because you've been doing the same to me every single lesson."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time — kissing slowly, touching carefully, talking in low voices between heated moments.

The world outside felt far away. years of friendship and hidden desire were finally cracking open, but still slowly, still safely.

Jay pulled back after one particularly long kiss, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Still okay?" he asked, eyes searching yours.

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again.

Neither of you were ready to stop yet. the night was young, the tension was perfect, and for the first time, you weren't pretending anymore.

You kept kissing him, deeper now, with a hunger that surprised even you. despite the innocent, pure look on your face — wide eyes, flushed cheeks — any shyness had melted away under the heat of the alcohol and years of built-up need.

Your hands moved with purpose, sliding down Jay's chest, over his stomach, until you boldly palmed the obvious bulge straining against his gray pajama shorts.

Jay let out a sharp breath against your mouth, then another low sigh as your fingers rubbed him slowly through the fabric. je was hard, thick, and warm under your touch. you didn't hesitate, stroking him with more confidence, feeling him twitch under your palm.

"Fuck…" he muttered between kisses, his voice rougher.

He finally broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look down between your bodies.

There you were — straddling him, hand shamelessly rubbing his erection right beneath where you sat. his dark eyes darkened further.

"You're not playing around tonight, huh?" he said, voice low and slightly amused, but clearly affected.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear, your voice needy and breathless. "i need you so bad right now, Jay… please. i want you to fuck me."

Jay let out a short, surprised laugh, the sound husky. "then take all your clothes off" he said, half-joking, half-challenging, that signature teasing tone still there even now.

But you were too far gone.

Without hesitation, you sat back on his thighs and pulled the oversized t-shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest. then you lifted your hips and slid the pajama shorts down your legs, kicking them aside until you were left in just your panties.

Your skin felt hot under his gaze.

Jay cursed under his breath — a low, impressed "shit…" — as his eyes raked over your body. his hands stayed respectful on your waist for a moment longer before he helped steady you.

"Come here" he murmured, pulling you back onto his lap properly.

The kissing resumed, hotter this time.

Your hand returned to stroking him through his shorts while his mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then down your neck.

He sucked lightly on your skin, not enough to leave marks yet, but enough to make you whimper softly.

You ground against his bulge slowly, feeling the friction through the thin layers separating you. Jay's breathing grew heavier, his hands finally sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts.

"You've been hiding this body from me during all those lessons?" he said against your neck, voice low and a little dirty. "sitting there acting all innocent while i was trying not to think about how you'd look like this… straddling me, touching my cock like you own it."

You moaned softly at his words, your hand squeezing him firmer. "i thought about it every time."

Jay kissed you hard again, then shifted both of you. he moved you off his lap gently and stood up, quickly pulling his own shirt off and dropping his shorts.

His cock sprang free — hard, flushed, and bigger than you'd imagined in your filthiest thoughts. he was smooth, well-kept, the head already glistening.

He sat back down against the headboard and pulled you back on top, but this time he guided you into a different position.

He turned you so you were facing away from him, your back to his chest, straddling his lap in reverse.

"Like this" he said quietly, voice steady but thick with want. "i want to feel you."

His hands settled on your hips, guiding you as you lowered yourself.

He didn't enter you yet — instead, he pulled your panties to the side and slid his cock between your folds, letting you grind along his length. the heat of him against your wet pussy made you gasp.

You leaned back against his chest, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you steady while his other hand reached down to rub slow circles on your clit.

His mouth was right by your ear, breathing warm against it.

"Slow" he reminded you, always in some control. "we've got all night."

You rocked your hips, sliding along his cock, coating him with how wet you were.

Jay groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your back. he kept rubbing your clit with practiced fingers, occasionally squeezing your breast with his free hand, rolling your nipple gently.

"Feel how hard you made me?" he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "all those guitar lessons… you sitting between my legs, biting your lip every time i touched you. i wanted to pull you back against me just like this."

You moaned, moving faster against him. Jay adjusted his grip, lifting you slightly before finally guiding the head of his cock to your entrance.

"Ready?" he asked, checking one last time.

"Yes" you breathed.

He lowered you slowly onto him, inch by inch.

The stretch was perfect — full, deep, overwhelming in the best way.

When he bottomed out, both of you let out shaky breaths. he stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust, his arm tight around your waist, the other hand still between your legs rubbing your clit.

Then he started moving.

He thrust up into you in a steady rhythm, deep and controlled.

You braced your hands on his thighs, leaning forward slightly as you rode him in reverse, matching his pace.

The position let him hit deep with every roll of his hips, his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you.

Jay's breathing was ragged now, but his voice stayed low near your ear. "that's it… just like that. you feel so fucking good."

His hand on your clit never stopped, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

The other hand gripped your hip, guiding you down onto him harder.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the warm room, mixed with your soft moans and his occasional low groans.

You leaned further forward, hands on his knees for leverage, bouncing on his cock while he thrust up to meet you. Jay cursed again, the view from behind clearly affecting him.

"Look at you" he said, voice strained but still teasing. "taking me so well after wanting it for years…"

The pleasure built fast — the angle, his fingers on your clit, the deep thrusts.

Your thighs started trembling. Jay noticed, as always, and wrapped his arm tighter around you, holding you close as he fucked you through it.

Your back arching against his chest, a broken moan leaving your lips. Jay kept moving, slower now, drawing it out, murmuring quiet praise against your neck.

He didn't stop completely. after you caught your breath, he guided you to lean all the way forward, chest almost to the bed, still connected.

He sat up straighter behind you, hands on your hips as he thrust deeper, faster, chasing his own release.

The position was intense — you face down, ass up, Jay behind you thrusting with controlled power. his hands roamed your back, occasionally gripping your hair lightly to pull you back against him.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight" he groaned.

You pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. Jay's pace grew more urgent, but he never lost that cool edge — always making sure you were okay, his hands soothing even as he fucked you harder.

You kept moving on him, rolling your hips in a slow, needy rhythm as you rode Jay in reverse.

Your back was pressed against his chest, his cock buried deep inside you with every downward motion.

The stretch felt incredible, and the position let you feel every inch of him. your hands gripped his thighs for balance while his arm stayed wrapped around your waist, the other hand still teasing your clit with slow, deliberate circles.

But Jay had other plans.

His hands slid to your hips, gripping firmly but not harshly.

With a low murmur against your ear — "let me take over for a bit" — he guided you forward. you leaned down, hands bracing on the bed as he smoothly shifted your body off his lap and onto all fours. the transition was fluid, his cock slipping out for just a second before he positioned himself behind you.

Your hips stayed high, ass up, while your chest and face pressed down into the mattress.

The soft sheets muffled your heavy breathing as Jay knelt behind you.

He reached forward, gathering both of your arms gently but decisively, pulling them behind your lower back. he held your wrists together with one hand, limiting your movement without being overly restrictive.

His grip was secure, controlling, but still careful — classic Jay.

"Fuck… Jay…" you moaned loudly, the sound shameless and needy.

Your voice echoed in the warm room, much louder than you'd ever been with anyone else. "it feels so deep like this…"

He rubbed the head of his cock along your soaked folds for a moment, teasing, before pushing back inside you in one smooth, deep thrust.

You cried out, face buried in the mattress as your ass stayed arched high for him.

Jay started moving — deep and fast, but not brutal.

Each thrust was powerful and controlled, hitting that perfect spot inside you with precision. the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, steady and rhythmic.

"Shit, listen to you" he said, voice low and slightly amused even now.

"You're so loud tonight. all those years pretending to be shy during our lessons… and now you're moaning like this with your face in my bed."

You whimpered loudly in response, unable to hold back. "i can't help it… you're so deep— ahh!" another loud moan tore from your throat as he thrust particularly deep, holding it there for a second before resuming his pace.

Jay kept your wrists pinned at your lower back with one hand while his other hand reached up and gathered your hair.

He didn't yank it — he simply held it firmly, using it as leverage to keep your head down against the mattress while he fucked you. the gentle tug on your scalp sent sparks through your body.

"That's it" he murmured, breathing heavier but still composed. "keep that ass up for me. you feel incredible like this… so wet. been thinking about this view for months every time you left my room."

Your moans grew louder, unrestrained. every deep thrust pushed a new sound out of you — high-pitched whimpers mixed with desperate gasps and full moans.

Your hips pushed back against him instinctively, meeting his rhythm as much as his grip on your wrists allowed.

"Jay— oh god, right there— fuck" you cried out, voice breaking. Your face stayed pressed into the sheets, cheek turned to the side, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

He leaned forward slightly, chest closer to your back, changing the angle just enough to make you see stars.

His thrusts never faltered — consistent, deep, fast enough to make your thighs shake but never rough enough to cross into discomfort.

"You're squeezing me so tight" he groaned near your ear, voice rough but still that familiar Jay tone — teasing underneath the lust. "all that tension from the guitar lessons finally coming out, huh?… you were this wet thinking about me fucking you like this?"

"Yes— fuck" you moaned loudly, almost sobbing into the mattress.

Your body rocked forward with each thrust, but Jay's hold on your wrists and hair kept you exactly where he wanted you. "i need more… please don't stop—"

He didn't.

He kept the pace steady, fucking you thoroughly.

Minutes passed like this — long, drawn-out, filthy minutes filled with the wet sounds of your bodies connecting and your increasingly loud moans. Jay would occasionally slow down to grind deep inside you, letting you feel every inch, before picking up speed again.

After a while, he released your wrists but only to adjust your position further.

He gently pushed your upper body fully down onto the bed, guiding you into a prone-bone angle — your hips still tilted up, legs slightly spread, chest and face pressed flat against the mattress.

He moved with you, covering your back with his chest as he slid back inside.

This new position felt even deeper. Jay's weight pressed you into the bed as he thrust down into you, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other braced beside your head for support.

"Still good?" he asked between thrusts, voice low and caring even as he fucked you harder. "tell me if it's too much."

"It's— ah... it's perfect— Jay, fuck" your voice was loud and broken, moans spilling out continuously now.

The mattress muffled some of them, but not enough. you were loud, needy, completely lost in the sensation.

Jay let out a low chuckle that turned into a groan as you clenched around him. "you're going to wake up the whole house if you keep moaning like that. not that i mind… i like hearing how much you need this."

He kept the rhythm deep and fast, hips snapping against your ass with controlled power.

The angle made his cock drag perfectly against your g-spot with every stroke. his hand in your hair kept you grounded, his lips occasionally brushing your shoulder or the back of your neck as he fucked you.

"You're doing so well" he murmured, voice husky against your ear. "my best friend moaning my name while i fuck her exactly how she needs."

"Jay— please…" you whined loudly, pushing your hips back as much as the position allowed. your hands gripped the sheets tightly, body trembling from the sustained pleasure.

He kept going, deep, fast, relentless but never rough.

Always observant — adjusting when your moans pitched higher, slowing for a few strokes when your thighs shook too much, then building the pace again.

Jay kept his steady, deep rhythm, fucking you thoroughly from behind while you stayed pressed into the mattress. your loud moans continued filling the room without filter — raw, needy, and unrestrained.

But he wasn't done changing things up.

He slowed his thrusts gradually, then pulled out carefully.

Before you could protest the sudden emptiness, he flipped you onto your back with strong but gentle hands.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was between your legs again, spreading them wide and settling on top of you.

This time, though, he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders, folding you nearly in half.

Your hips lifted off the bed as he leaned forward, bringing his face close to yours. the new angle made everything feel impossibly deeper.

"Jay— fuck—" you moaned loudly as he pushed back inside you in one smooth motion.

Your voice cracked with pleasure, eyes fluttering. "it's so deep like this… i can feel everything—"

He braced his hands on either side of your head, his dark eyes locked on your face as he started moving again. deep, fast strokes that made your breasts bounce with every thrust.

Your legs trembled over his shoulders, ankles near his ears.

Jay's expression stayed focused — that cool, controlled look mixed with clear desire.

He wasn't being rough, but the way he drove into you was relentless, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

"Look at me" he said, voice low and a little strained. "want to see your face while i fuck you."

You tried, but another loud moan tore from your throat as he ground deep inside you, rolling his hips in a way that made your toes curl. "ah— Jay, right there— don't stop—"

Your hands flew up to grip his arms, nails digging into his biceps as he held you folded beneath him.

The position left you completely exposed, hips tilted up, taking every inch of his cock with each thrust.

You were so loud now — moaning, whimpering, gasping his name repeatedly.

The sounds bounced off the walls of his warm-lit room.

Jay leaned down further, almost bending you in half, and kissed you messily.

His tongue slid against yours as he kept thrusting, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. when he pulled back, his breathing was heavier.

"You're so fucking loud tonight" he murmured against your lips, a hint of that teasing smirk appearing even now.

"I can't— ah, it feels too good—" you cried out, head falling back against the pillows.

Your face was flushed, lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure. every deep thrust pushed a new moan out of you. "Jay… Jay, please— it's so much—”

He kept the pace fast and deep, hips snapping forward with controlled power.

The angle made his cock drag perfectly against your g-spot on every stroke. one of his hands moved down to rub your clit again, adding another layer of overwhelming sensation.

You were a mess beneath him — legs over his shoulders, body folded, moaning shamelessly loud with every movement.

Your hands roamed his back, scratching lightly down his skin as pleasure built higher and higher.

"Fuck, you feel perfect" Jay groaned, voice rough but still composed.

He kissed your neck, sucking lightly as he continued thrusting. "been wanting to have you like this for so long. all spread out, taking me so well… moaning my name like you can't get enough."

"I can't— i really can't—" you sobbed-moaned, voice breaking. your hips tried to move to meet his thrusts, but the position left you mostly at his mercy. "it's so deep, Jay… i'm so close already—"

He immediately slowed his pace just enough to keep you on the edge without pushing you over, drawing out the moment. His thrusts became long, deliberate strokes — pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in deep and grinding against you.

"Not yet" he said softly, almost teasing. "we're not done."

He changed the angle slightly, pressing your thighs further back as he leaned over you.

The new depth made you cry out even louder, your voice echoing in the room. Jay's hand stayed on your clit, rubbing slow circles while he fucked you with those deep, fast strokes.

Sweat glistened on both your bodies under the soft brown-gold lighting. Jay's hair fell messily over his forehead as he watched your face, always observant, always checking your reactions.

"Every time I hit this spot right here—" he thrust deep and ground against you to emphasize, making you moan loudly again. "—you get even wetter. you really did want this bad, didn't you?"

"Yes— god, yes— i've wanted you for years—" you gasped, voice loud and broken.

Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as another wave of pleasure washed over you, keeping you right on the edge.

Jay kept going, deep and fast, but always controlled. he would lean down to kiss you messily every so often, swallowing some of your loud moans before pulling back to watch you again.

His hand never left your clit, building the tension higher without letting it break.

After a while, he lowered your legs from his shoulders but kept them spread wide. he stayed on top, chest pressed to yours in a more classic missionary, but still deep and intense.

His hips rolled against yours in a steady rhythm, grinding deep with every thrust.

"Still okay?" he asked between strokes, always the caring one even now.

"So okay— fuck, Jay, it feels amazing—" you moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.

The room filled with the sounds of your loud, needy moans, his low groans, and the wet rhythm of your bodies moving together.

Jay kept the pace deep and fast, drawing it out, making the pleasure last as long as possible.

He kissed your neck, your jaw, your lips — mixing tenderness with the raw intensity of how he was fucking you.

His hand occasionally slid up to hold one of your wrists above your head, not pinning hard, just keeping you in place while he drove into you.

"You sound so pretty when you're this loud" he whispered against your ear, voice rough. "moaning for your best friend like this… after all this time."

Your response was another loud, broken moan as he hit that perfect angle again.

The tension kept building, higher and higher, but Jay expertly kept you both teetering right on the edge — not letting either of you fall over just yet.

You were right on the edge.

Your body was shaking underneath Jay, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he fucked you deep and steady. your moans had become desperate, broken cries that filled the entire room.

"Jay— i'm so close— please, i'm gonna cum—" you gasped loudly, your voice cracking with need. your nails dug into his back as the pressure built unbearably tight inside you.

But Jay suddenly slowed down, then stopped moving completely, buried to the hilt inside you. he held perfectly still, breathing heavily against your neck.

"Not yet" he murmured, voice low and composed, that teasing control still fully intact. "you're not cumming yet."

You let out a loud, frustrated whine, trying to roll your hips up desperately, but he pinned you down with his weight, refusing to give you the last bit of friction you needed.

"Jay… please…" you begged, voice needy and loud. "i was so close—"

He kissed the corner of your mouth softly, then slowly pulled out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

Your pussy throbbed painfully, slick and desperate.

Jay moved down your body with deliberate calmness. he spread your legs wide, settling between them on his stomach.

His dark eyes looked up at your flushed, innocent-looking face as he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, holding you open for him.

"Since you're being so loud and impatient" he said, voice husky but still teasing, "i'm going to taste you instead. but you still don't get to cum until i say so."

Before you could respond, Jay leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your soaked folds.

You moaned loudly, back arching off the bed at the sudden intense pleasure.

"Fuck— Jay—"

He took his time, exploring you with his mouth like he had all night. his tongue moved in slow, broad strokes from your entrance up to your clit, savoring how wet you were.

Then he circled your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue, applying just enough pressure to keep you right on the edge without pushing you over.

You were loud — extremely loud. your moans echoed shamelessly in his warm-lit room as he ate you out.

"Oh my god— Jay… that feels so good—" you cried out, one hand flying down to grip his hair. your hips tried to buck against his face, but his strong arms kept your thighs firmly pinned down, controlling your movements.

Jay hummed against your pussy, the vibration making you whimper even louder.

He alternated between long, slow licks and focused sucking on your clit, occasionally dipping his tongue inside you. his technique was precise and confident — typical Jay, even in this.

"You taste even better than i imagined" he murmured against your wet skin, voice slightly muffled. "all those guitar lessons… and i had no idea how sweet this pretty pussy was."

You moaned brokenly, head thrown back against the pillows. "Jay— please— i need to cum so bad— i can't take it—"

He ignored your begging and continued devouring you.

His tongue flicked rapidly over your clit for a few seconds, then slowed down again, edging you mercilessly.

Every time your thighs started trembling harder and your moans pitched higher, he would pull back slightly, kissing your inner thighs or blowing cool air on your sensitive folds until the orgasm threat faded just enough.

You were a complete mess — loud, desperate, and dripping.

"Ah! Jay— your tongue feels too good—" you sobbed, voice hoarse from how much you'd been moaning. your free hand gripped the sheets tightly beside you, knuckles turning white.

Jay slid two fingers inside you slowly while his mouth focused on your clit, curling them upward to press against that sensitive spot. the combination made you cry out even louder, almost screaming his name.

"Jay— fuck— i'm so close again— please let me cum this time—"

But he pulled his fingers out and slowed his tongue once more, denying you for the third time.

You let out a loud, frustrated whimper, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Not yet" he repeated calmly, kissing your clit softly. "i want you shaking for me first."

He buried his face deeper between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue flicked rapidly.

The wet, obscene sounds of him eating you out mixed with your loud, broken moans. he kept you spread wide, completely exposed, as he worked you over with expert patience.

Minutes passed like this — long, torturous minutes of Jay's mouth on your pussy.

He would bring you right to the brink with fast, focused licks and suction, then slow down to lazy, broad strokes that kept the pleasure simmering without exploding.

Your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head.

"You're dripping all over my chin" he murmured, voice low and slightly dirty. "such a messy girl tonight. and still trying so hard to be quiet when we both know you can't."

"I'm not— i can't be quiet— Jay, please—" you moaned, almost incoherently now.

He slid his fingers back inside you, fucking you slowly with them while his tongue circled your clit.

The dual sensation had you seeing stars, right on the edge once again.

Your voice was getting hoarser, your moans desperate, needy sobs as he continued edging you with his mouth for what felt like forever.

Jay between your spread legs, focused and in control, while you writhed and moaned loudly beneath his skilled tongue.

He was clearly enjoying himself, occasionally humming in satisfaction against your pussy or glancing up to watch your innocent face contort with overwhelming pleasure.

"You're doing so well holding it for me" he praised softly between licks. "just a little longer…"

Your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release, but Jay kept you right there — teetering, desperate, and completely at his mercy.

Now you were shaking uncontrollably, your thighs trembling around Jay's head as he continued working you with his tongue.

Jay sucked your swollen clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue rapidly while his two fingers curled deep inside you, pressing firmly against that sensitive spot.

His dark eyes flicked up to watch your face as he pushed you over.

"Jay— fuck— i'm cumming—!" you cried out loudly, voice breaking into a high-pitched moan that echoed through the room.

The orgasm crashed over you hard.

Your back arched violently off the bed, hips jerking against his face as waves of intense pleasure ripped through your body.

You moaned shamelessly loud, almost screaming his name as your pussy clenched around his fingers and flooded his tongue.

But Jay didn't stop.

He kept his mouth on you through the entire orgasm, licking and sucking gently but consistently, drawing it out and immediately pushing you toward another peak.

"Jay— oh my god, it's too much... i just came— ah" you wailed, one hand gripping his hair tightly while the other twisted in the sheets. your legs shook uncontrollably around his shoulders.

He hummed against your pussy, the vibration sending aftershocks through you.

"I know" he murmured, voice low and slightly smug against your wet folds. "but you sound too pretty when you're falling apart. i'm not done with you yet."

He continued eating you out with focused determination — slow, broad licks mixed with quick flicks on your oversensitive clit.

His fingers kept moving inside you, curling and thrusting steadily. the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on your dripping pussy filled the room alongside your loud, hoarse moans.

After several long minutes of this delicious torture, Jay finally pulled his mouth away, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal.

He looked up at your flushed, wrecked face with that signature cool smirk.

"On your stomach again." he said quietly, voice rough with want.

You barely had the strength to move, but he helped you, flipping you onto your belly with strong, careful hands.

He pulled your hips up so you were in doggy again — ass high, chest and face pressed down into the mattress, exactly how he liked you.

Jay knelt behind you and rubbed his hard cock along your soaked folds before pushing back inside you in one smooth, deep thrust. you moaned into the sheets as he filled you again.

"Jay— nggh—"

He started fucking you again with those perfect deep and fast strokes, his hips snapping against your ass.

One hand gripped your hip firmly while the other slid up your back. Then you felt it — his thumb circling your tight rim teasingly before slowly pressing inside.

The dual sensation — his thick cock stretching your pussy while his thumb gently worked inside your ass — was overwhelming.

"Shit... Jay" your body trembled as he pushed his thumb deeper, moving it in slow, careful thrusts in time with his cock.

"Relax for me" he murmured, voice low and steady even as he fucked you harder. "just a little. i've got you."

He kept the pace deep and rhythmic, cock driving into your pussy while his thumb gently fucked your ass.

The feeling was intense but not painful — just enough stretch and fullness to make your loud moans turn even more desperate.

You were a wreck — face down, ass up, moaning shamelessly loud with every thrust. Jay's free hand reached around to rub your clit again, pushing you toward another orgasm while he continued the double stimulation.

"Listen to how loud you are" he said, voice husky with arousal but still teasing. "you love this, don't you?"

"Yes... ngf... fuck yes, i love it—" you cried out, pushing back against him desperately. "don't stop... please."

Jay kept going, deep and controlled.

His cock dragged perfectly against your g-spot with every thrust while his thumb moved gently inside you, stretching you just enough to heighten everything.

The room was filled with the wet sounds of sex, skin slapping skin, and your continuous loud moans.

He leaned forward, chest pressing against your back as he fucked you, his mouth close to your ear.

"You're squeezing me so fucking tight" he groaned softly. "both holes. such a greedy girl tonight."

You could only moan in response, completely lost in the pleasure.

Jay's rhythm never faltered — deep, fast strokes in your pussy, steady movements of his thumb in your ass, and his fingers still working your clit.

He kept you right on the edge of another orgasm, drawing it out just like before.

After several long, intense minutes, he pulled his thumb out carefully and focused entirely on fucking you deep from behind, both hands gripping your hips as he drove into you with powerful, controlled thrusts.

Jay leaned down again, kissing the back of your neck as he continued fucking you thoroughly.

"You're doing so well" he said quietly, voice warm despite how hard he was driving into you. "taking me so deep… being so loud for me. my perfect girl."

He kept the pace going, switching between deep grinding and faster thrusts, always keeping you full and stimulated.

He gripped your hips tighter and drove into you harder, his cock sliding in and out of your soaked, sensitive pussy with wet, obscene sounds.

"Jay, fuck... it's too much—" you cried out, voice breaking as he hit that perfect spot over and over.

He leaned forward, chest pressing against your back, and wrapped one arm around your waist to hold you in place. his other hand slid up to grip your shoulder, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust.

"You can take it" he murmured against your ear, voice rough and low. "you've been waiting years for this. take it like a good girl for me."

Then he shifted again, pushing your upper body fully down while keeping your hips raised.

The weight of him on top of you again, the way his cock drove so deep at this angle, had you moaning loudly into the sheets, almost sobbing with overstimulation and pleasure.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of him fucking you thoroughly, Jay's breathing became more ragged. his thrusts grew faster, more desperate.

This was exactly how he needed it.

He fucked you harder, hips snapping against your ass with urgent, almost frantic strokes.

His cock drove deep inside you with every thrust, the angle letting him hit as deep as possible. his breathing was heavy and labored against the back of your neck.

"Fuck— i'm close—" he groaned, voice strained for the first time that night. "you feel too good… i can't hold it anymore."

You moaned loudly in response, pushing your ass back against him as much as you could. "cum inside me, i want to feel you—"

That seemed to break the last bit of his control.

Jay's thrusts became erratic and desperate. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other gripping the sheets beside your head.

His hips slammed against you faster, chasing his release with raw need.

"Shit— fuck" he growled, voice breaking as the pleasure overtook him.

With a deep, guttural groan that vibrated against your skin, Jay buried himself as deep as possible inside you and came hard.

His cock pulsed strongly, releasing thick, warm spurts of cum deep into your pussy.

His hips stuttered and jerked against your ass as he rode out the intense orgasm, grinding deep to push every drop inside you.

He kept thrusting weakly through his climax, desperate and almost whimpering against your neck as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

His body trembled on top of yours, muscles tense, breathing ragged and hot against your skin.

He stayed pressed against you, hips twitching, making sure you took every single drop.

The desperation in his movements — the way he held you so tightly, the broken groans, the way he couldn't stop moving even after he started cumming — was raw and intense. years of tension finally snapping in that exact moment.

He stayed inside you for a long time afterward, breathing heavily, body still covering yours completely as the last aftershocks ran through him.

His cock continued to twitch inside your cum-filled pussy, making you whimper softly at the overstimulation.

The room was quiet now except for both of your heavy breathing. Jay's warm, sweaty body remained pressed against your back, his face hidden in your neck as he tried to catch his breath.

No words yet.

Just the heavy, satisfied silence and the feeling of him still deep inside you, having cum exactly where he needed to — deep, desperate, and completely lost in the moment.

The room felt quieter than it had all night.

You stayed there — face down, body spent and trembling — trying to process the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing over you.

The pleasure was still echoing through your limbs, but something deeper was settling in. something terrifying and warm at the same time.

Jay finally let out a long, shaky breath.

He pressed a slow, almost hesitant kiss to the back of your shoulder before carefully pulling out of you.

The loss of him made you whimper softly. you felt empty.

Exposed. raw.

He rolled off you and lay on his side, facing you.

For a few seconds, he just looked at you — dark eyes searching your face with that familiar intensity. his hair was messy, lips slightly swollen, skin glistening with sweat under the soft brown-gold lighting.

He looked beautiful. and suddenly, painfully real.

You turned your head to face him, cheek still pressed against the bed.

Your heart was doing something complicated in your chest.

"Jay…" you whispered, voice hoarse from how loudly you'd been moaning.

He reached out and gently brushed damp strands of hair away from your face. his touch was careful now, almost reverent.

"Yeah?" he answered quietly. his voice was lower than usual, a little rough.

You didn't know what to say. there were too many things at once.

I just slept with my best friend.

I let him cum inside me.

I've been in love with you for years and now i'm scared.

Instead of speaking, you shifted closer and tucked yourself against his chest.

Jay didn't hesitate — he wrapped his arms around you immediately, pulling you in.

One hand rubbed slow circles on your bare back while the other rested at the nape of your neck.

The silence stretched again, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

It was heavy.

"I…" you started, then stopped.

Your fingers traced small patterns on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slowly begin to calm. "i don't know what to say right now."

Jay let out a soft breath that was almost a chuckle. "me neither."

He tilted his head down to look at you.

His expression was calm on the surface, but you knew him too well. there was something vulnerable behind his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked. the question was simple, but the way he asked it — gentle, serious — made your chest tighten.

You nodded against him. "yeah. just… a lot."

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again, voice low. "i know. for me too."

You pulled back slightly so you could see his face better. "did you… want this? like, really want it? or did i just—"

Jay cut you off by pressing his forehead against yours.

"I wanted it" he said firmly. "i've wanted it for longer than i probably should admit. but i never let myself think about it too much because… you're you. my best friend. the one person i didn't want to risk losing."

Your eyes stung a little.

You swallowed hard.

"I've been in love with you since second year" you confessed in a whisper. the words felt scary to say out loud, but after everything that had just happened, they also felt necessary.

"Not just… wanting you. loving you. for years. and tonight i just… i couldn't pretend anymore."

Jay's hand stilled on your back for a second. then he pulled you closer, tucking your head under his chin.

"I figured" he murmured. "i'm not blind. the way you looked at me during those guitar lessons… how you'd get quiet sometimes. i noticed. i just didn't know if acting on it would fuck everything up."

You let out a shaky laugh. "and now?"

He was quiet for a long time. his fingers resumed their slow movement on your back.

"Now i don't know" he admitted honestly. "but i don't regret it. not even a little." he paused. "do you?"

You shook your head quickly. "no. God, no. it felt… right. even if it was intense. even if i was so loud i probably woke up your neighbors."

Jay chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest.

The familiar teasing tone returned just a bit. "you were really loud. i didn't know you had that in you."

You hid your face in his neck, embarrassed but smiling. "shut up. you were the one edging me for like an hour."

He laughed again, but it faded into something softer. his arms tightened around you.

"I just… i needed to know you really wanted it" he said quietly. "all of it. not just because you were drunk or horny. i needed to hear you fall apart for me."

You stayed silent, absorbing his words.

The vulnerability in his voice was rare. Jay was always the cool one, the one who had everything under control. hearing him admit that he'd been holding back too made something warm bloom in your chest.

"I've never felt like that with anyone else" you whispered. "not even close. it wasn't just sex, Jay. it was you."

He exhaled slowly, like he'd been holding that breath for a long time.

"Yeah" he said finally. "same here."

The two of you stayed tangled together like that for a while.

You traced a finger along his collarbone. "are you scared?" you asked softly.

Jay was quiet for a few seconds.

"A little" he admitted. "i don't want to lose what we have. the friendship. the late nights. the stupid arguments about music. you're important to me. really fucking important."

You nodded, throat tight. "me too. but… i also don't think i can go back to pretending i don't feel this way."

He tilted your chin up gently so you were looking at him. his dark eyes were serious, but there was warmth there too.

"Then we don't pretend" he said. "we figure it out. slowly. no pressure. you're still my best friend first. everything else… we'll see."

You felt tears prick at your eyes again, but this time they were different. not sad. just overwhelmed.

Jay noticed immediately. he wiped the corner of your eye with his thumb.

"Hey" he said softly, that teasing smirk returning just a fraction. "don't cry on me now. i just made you cum so hard you almost forgot your own name. this is supposed to be a victory lap."

You laughed wetly and shoved his chest lightly. "you're such an asshole."

"Your asshole" he corrected, smirking.

The joke helped. it reminded you that even after everything, he was still Jay.

Your Jay.

You snuggled closer again, legs tangling with his. His hand resumed rubbing your back, soothing and steady.

The emotional weight of the night settled over both of you — the relief, the fear, the hope, the deep affection that had always been there underneath the tension.

It wasn't simple. it wasn't clean. but it was real.

Jay held you tighter, like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

"Get some sleep" he murmured eventually, voice soft. "we'll talk more in the morning. when your brain isn't fried from all the orgasms i gave you."

You smiled against his skin. "cocky."

"Accurate" he replied.

Even in the emotional aftermath, the teasing remained. it felt safe. familiar.

As your eyes grew heavier, wrapped in his arms in the warm glow of his room, you realized something important:

Whatever happened next — whether this became something more or complicated everything — you didn't regret a single second.

And from the way Jay's fingers kept tracing gentle patterns on your skin long after you thought he'd fallen asleep, you suspected he didn't either.

𓂃

Your wrists are pinned above your head, tied to the headboard of the bed. Your legs are spread wide with Heeseung between them, holding your thighs open for him, exposing your needy, dripping pussy.

"Fuck, you’re already so wet." Two fingers slide slowly over your folds. "And we haven’t even started yet. Pathetic." He teases your entrance before pushing inside. His long fingers stretch you open and curl to reach that sweet spot that makes you squirm.

He takes his time, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. His thumb rests on your clit, not moving, just applying pressure to the sensitive bud. You let out a shaky moan, your hips lifting to meet his hand, wanting more, needing more.

"Mmm… feels good, doesn’t it?" He murmurs with a wicked smile before adding a third finger and picking up the pace, fucking you deeper and harder. "Your pussy is sucking my fingers so well, baby."

His thumb finally starts moving, rubbing slow, torturous circles on your swollen clit while he continues to fuck you with his fingers. The wet sounds echo through the room.

It doesn’t take long for your thighs to start trembling and for that tight pressure to build in your lower belly. "Don’t stop, please don’t stop."

He leans down, taking one of your breasts into his mouth and sucking hard on your nipple. "You’re getting so close already? How embarrassing." Then he sucks even harder, his teeth grazing and lightly biting your nipple.

The mix of pleasure pulls you closer and closer to the edge. Your walls are already clenching around his fingers and your back is arching when he suddenly pulls his fingers out. You whimper and push your hips up, desperately chasing his touch again. "No… please, I was so close."

He laughs, mocking you. "I know you were, baby. That’s exactly why I stopped." His slick fingers move to your lips, brushing against them lightly. "Open your mouth for me." You obey, just like you always do.

Your lips close around his fingers, sucking them gently, tasting yourself. "Good girl, clean up your mess." You start sucking harder, swirling your tongue around his fingers.

While you suck his fingers clean, he reaches over to the nightstand, opens one of the drawers, and takes out a wand vibrator. He turns it on to the lowest setting. The moment the low buzzing sound fills the room, you release his fingers with a wet pop. "Heeseung…"

He smiles widely, feeling completely in control, and he really is. He presses the head of the vibrator against your clit. The vibrations are gentle since it’s on the lowest setting, but they still send shocks through your body.

He holds it still at first, then begins moving it in slow circles. "How does that feel? Feels good, baby?" He is rock hard inside his sweatpants because watching you writhe with irregular breathing turns him on so much.

The constant pleasure making your clit throb under the toy is too much to control. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably and that tight pressure in your belly returns, this time even stronger and more intense. "I’m… getting close again." Tears of overwhelming stimulation form in your eyes.

He mocks you again. "Already? You really are such a desperate little thing." He presses the wand harder against you just to watch you squirm in pleasure. You are right on the edge of orgasm, shaking, about to fall apart.

Then he pulls the toy away.

You let out a sob and your hips move uselessly against the air. "Why are you doing this to me?" A tear rolls down your cheek. You feel humiliated and your body aches with need.

Meanwhile, Heeseung is enjoying himself more than ever. "Because watching you suffer like this is fucking hilarious." Seeing you cry and desperate makes his cock twitch.

He leans closer and presses a kiss where the tear had fallen. "You’re so beautiful when you cry for me." His mouth finds yours in a slow, soft kiss that quickly turns hungry.

Without breaking the kiss, he brings the vibrator back, this time on medium speed. The stronger vibrations make you scream against his mouth while your body arches off the mattress.

He presses the toy firmly against your oversensitive clit. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the edge again. "Please, please, please. I’m so close."

"No, not yet." And then he pulls the wand away again. Before you can protest, he pushes three fingers back inside you and turns the vibrator to the highest setting, pressing it against you once more.

The double stimulation is overwhelming and pulls loud moans from you. "Oh my god." His fingers fuck you hard, curling against your g-spot every time he thrusts deep. Your body shakes violently and you feel like you’re going to explode from the overwhelming pleasure.

He watches every single reaction attentively, loving having you tied to his bed and completely at his mercy. "You look so fucking stupid right now. Beg properly if you want to cum."

"Please, please fuck me. I need your cock inside me. I’ll do anything, just let me cum. Please, I’m begging you." You cry out.

He stares at you for a few seconds, considering whether he should make you beg more or give you what you want. But he can’t hold back anymore. He needs to be inside your greedy pussy right now.

That’s exactly what he does. He puts the vibrator aside, frees his cock, already leaking precum and hard against his stomach, and pushes into you with one brutal thrust. A raw moan tears from your throat.

He fucks you hard, each thrust pushing you deeper into the mattress. His tip keeps hitting that perfect spot, making your eyes roll back and knocking the air out of your lungs.

It doesn’t take long before he brings the wand back, circling it against your clit while he fucks you mercilessly. "Cum for me, baby. Make a mess like the pathetic slut you are." He keeps laughing at how broken you look.

When you finally get his permission to cum, you do. Your walls tighten around him and the pressure breaks. You can’t control it, a hot jet of squirt gushes around his cock. The next spasm sends another stream against his lower stomach and thighs, making a mess of the sheets.

But he doesn’t stop. He continues fucking you with brutal thrusts, chasing his own orgasm while wet, filthy sounds fill the room.

His eyes are fixed on your pussy, watching the fluid squirt out with every contraction of your walls around him. The sight makes his cock twitch inside you, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck… look at the mess you’re making. Squirting all over me like a broken little toy. Such a pathetic girl."

His thrusts become erratic and sloppy. With one final deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and cums with a low groan. His cock pulses as he fills you with thick, hot spurts of cum.

He collapses beside you and pulls you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "You did so good. Such a good girl for me."

𓂃

ㅤㅤ

you don’t even react, just snuggle deeper into the blanket,

he squints at you sleepily before deciding it’s literally 8am and his brain probably doesn’t work yet,

so instead he just wraps himself around you like a koala and goes back to lying there, enjoying his last bit of peace for the day

except, he doesn’t know yet

later, you’re both in the kitchen,

you’re making coffee while ohyul stands beside you looking genuinely lifeless, scrolling on his phone but not really seeing anything,

“why are you moving like a divorced father,” you ask,

“because i’m awake,”

“right, valid,” you laugh softly,

he immediately looks up,

there it is, that tiny smile like he won something,

he leans down instinctively, aiming for a quick kiss while you’re still smiling but you turn away at the exact same moment to grab your mug,

he freezes and there’s a small silence,

you continue stirring your drink and he slowly straightens back up,

“..okay,”

his brain is loading, because technicallyyyyy that could’ve been accidental?

probably accidental,

right?

he watches you for another second,

you don’t react at all,

so eventually he just goes back to scrolling, but now there’s a visible crease between his eyebrows..

an hour later, you’re sitting beside him on the couch showing him videos on your phone,

he’s distracted, laughing and relaxed again,

completely forgot about the weirdness from earlier,

until you show him one video that makes you laugh so hard you lean against his shoulder,

and immediately, automatically, he turns to kiss you,

except you suddenly look back down at your phone,

again.

missed.

his lips almost hit air and this time he just knows,

his eyes slowly lift from your phone to your face,

you’re still scrolling, completely normal, completely casual and completely unbothered?

meanwhile this man is internally buffering, because what the hell was that?

again.

he keeps staring for a second too long,

you glance up, “what?”

“..nothing,”

but now he’s confused, like genuinely confused, because you didn’t act awkward or annoyed,

or upset..

you’re literally acting normal, which somehow makes it worse?

the 3rd time happens so naturally he almost forgets to be suspicious,

you’re standing in front of the fridge deciding what snack to eat,

he walks up behind you, chin resting on your shoulder while peeking inside,

“we have no food,” he complains,

“there’s literally food right there,”

“ingredients are not food,”

you snort,

he grins a little at making you laugh again, then turns his head to kiss your cheek,

and you move at the exact wrong time again,

his lips hit the air beside your face,

silence.

he slowly pulls back,

“..nah,”

you grab a drink and close the fridge like nothing

happened,

oh he knows now..

100%,

because 3 times??

statistically impossible

he stands there staring at the back of your head like he’s trying to solve a murder case,

you walk past him casually and he turns slowly,

“..hello???”

you blink innocently, “hm?”

he just looks at you, trying to read your mind or something,

but internally???

this man is losing it.

the 4th time is what starts the overthinking,

because now he’s replaying every interaction from the past week in his head,

you’re both getting ready to leave the apartment when he holds the door open for you,

you smile at him while walking past,

cute, normal and sweet, just how he likes you the most,

so he naturally leans in again,

and you suddenly fix your sleeve at the exact moment.. missed.

again.

his smile drops for like half a second,

not dramatically but just enough and you almost feel bad..

almost,

because now he’s spiralling,

he follows behind you quietly, brain moving at 900km/h,

did he say something wrong recently?

wait??

was it when he ate your fries last week???

no because you said it was fine but what if it wasn’t fine??

or maybe when he forgot to reply for two hours yesterday???

was it the joke about your show being confusing???

he starts mentally drafting apology paragraphs over literally nothing,

meanwhile you’re just walking beside him normally like la la la!

and it’s making him completely spiral

by the 5th time he genuinely looks stressed,

you’re sitting beside each other again later that night, your legs over his lap while he scrolls through something on his phone,

everything feels normal,

which is why he finally thinks: okay maybe i imagined it, maybe i’m insane,

so when you look up at him while talking, he leans in again naturally without thinking too hard about it,

and you dodge him,

again.

this time he goes completely still and you keep talking for another two seconds before noticing he hasn’t responded,

“..ohyul?”

he blinks, then slowly lowers his phone,

“..okay wait,”

he sighs out like he’s been holding it in for days,

“did i do something?”

you bite your cheek immediately,

he looks genuinely concerned now,

“because i feel like every time i try to kiss you today, you avoid me..”

you try so hard not to laugh,

“what?”

“like actually,” he sits up straighter now, “am i crazy??”

“maybe?”

“no because it keeps happening,”

he looks deeply disturbed by this realization too,

“and the worst part is i can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose or if the universe just hates me specifically,”

you finally crack a smile,

his eyes narrow instantly,

“..wait,”

you look away, trying to bite back your smile,

“WAIT?!”

he grabs your ankle dramatically, “nah nah nah don’t do that,”

you’re already laughing,”

“YOU WERE DOING IT ON PURPOSE??”

you collapse against the couch giggling,

“i just wanted to see how long it would take you to notice!”

“NOTICE???” he looks genuinely offended, like actually offended, “i noticed hours ago, i just thought you secretly hated me now,”

you laugh harder,

he stares at you in disbelief for another second before immediately lunging forward,

“come here,”

“ohyul no-“

too late,

he grabs your face and attacks you with kisses instantly, dramatic and relentless while you squeal and try to shove him away,

“you’re evil,” kiss. “actually evil,” kiss. “i was this close to apologising for things i didn’t even do,”

“stoppp-“

“no because why was i sitting there reflecting on things that never even happened,”

you’re literally crying laughing at this point,

he finally pulls back just enough to glare at you,

“..you enjoyed watching me suffer,”

you grin, “a little,”

he gasps softly like he’s heartbroken, then immediately kisses you again anyway,

because in his defense,

he has some missed kisses to make up for

kim ryul

the first time it happens, ryul doesn’t think much of it,

you’re both still half asleep, tangled together in bed while he scrolls lazily through his phone with one eye open,

you shift beside him with a quiet groan, face pressed into his shoulder,

he smiles a little,

then tilts your chin up automatically to kiss you,

muscle memory, except right before he does, you suddenly bury your face into the blanket instead,

his lips hit the corner of the pillow,

there’s a pause,

“good morning to you too,” he mumbles sleepily,

you just hum innocently,

he snorts quietly and lets it go,

probably accidental,

whatever

the 2nd time though???

oh he notices immediately,

you’re in the kitchen making coffee while he stands behind you, one arm around your waist,

he’s talking about something stupid he saw online while you pretend to listen,

“and then the comments started fighting like it was the united nations-“

“mhm,”

“you’re not listening to me,”

“i am,”

“repeat what i said,”

“..something exploded,”

“close enough,”

he laughs softly, then leans down casually to kiss you-

and you turn your head at the exact same second to grab your mug,

silence..

his eyes narrow instantly, there’s no hesitation too because he catches on immediately,

slowly, he straightens up behind you,

“..what are you trynna do?” he chuckles,

you blink innocently, “what?”

“that,”

“what,”

“that little matrix dodge you just did,”

you fight so hard not to smile,

“i literally grabbed my coffee?”

he just hummed, squinting at you suspiciously,

“you think you’re slick,”

“you think too much

he just stares,

because absolutely not?

ain’t no way you’re avoiding his kisses

the 3rd time confirms it for him completely,

you’re both sitting on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap while he scrolls on his phone,

every few seconds he glances at you,

just watching and waiting,

you already know he’s suspicious,

then you laugh at something on your screen and look over at him,

he immediately leans in and you dodge again, except this time he reacts instantly,

one hand grabs your jaw gently before you can fully escape and he kisses you anyway,

properly too

slow enough that your brain short circuits for a second,

when he pulls back, he keeps his hand on your face, eyes narrowed slightly,

“stop doing that,”

you stare at him innocently, “doing what?”

“yn,”

he’s already trying not to laugh,

you bite the inside of your cheek,

“i genuinely don’t know what you mean,”

“you’re a liar,”

“prove it,”

his jaw literally drops a little, but his eyes are full of amusement,

“oh you wanna play games,”

the 4th time is where he’s fully over your nonsense,

you’re standing in the hallway fixing your shoes while he grabs his keys,

he walks over, one hand in his pocket, looking way too confident for someone about to get curved again,

then he tilts your chin up lightly,

“i dare you dodge now,”

you almost burst out laughing immediately,

“or what?”

“you’re sleeping outside tonight,”

“you wouldn’t survive without me,”

“true,” he says easily, “but i’d survive long enough to humble you,”

you grin,

he leans in slowly this time,

like he’s giving you a chance to reconsider your actions,

and still-

you turn away immediately,

silence

then,

“..okay,”

you barely get half a laugh out before he grabs your face with both hands,

“ryul WA-“

too late,

he kisses you relentlessly while you squeal, laughing so hard you can barely breathe while he keeps holding your face still,

“nah because now you’re annoying me,” kiss. “all day with this nonsense,” kiss. “acting like i don’t notice things,”

“stopp-“

“absolutely not,”

he keeps kissing you between words just to make you more dramatic about it,

then finally pulls back with the smuggest expression you’ve ever seen,

“..thought you were funny,”

“i am funny,”

“you’re not,”

you think that’s the end of it,

until later that night,

you’re both back on the couch again, your head resting against his shoulder while he scrolls through something on his phone,

everything feels normal now,

which is why you don’t think twice before tilting your head up to kiss him,

except right before your lips touch..

he turns away,

your lips hit his cheek,

you freeze and slowly look at him,

he’s still scrolling casually,

“..excuse me?”

he hums innocently,

you narrow your eyes immediately,

he looks over and the smirk on his face is evil,

“sucks huh?”

you gasp dramatically,

“oh you’re sick in the head,”

“really?” he tilts his head, “because earlier someone had me out here fighting for my life trying to kiss my own girlfriend,”

you try not to laugh,

but obviously fail immediately

and he notices too,

“yeah laugh now,”

you grab his face instantly, “come here,”

he leans back slightly, “nah,”

“ryul,”

“what? maybe i don’t wanna kiss you,”

“you are literally obsessed with kissing me,”

“not anymore,”

you grab his hoodie, trying to pull him closer while he keeps leaning away on purpose now just to be annoying,

“ryul i swear to god-“

he laughs quietly before finally giving in, one hand sliding around your waist while he kisses you properly this time,

when he pulls away, he taps your cheek lightly,

“don’t start battles you can’t win,”

you squint at him,

“..i could absolutely win,”

he smiles, “cute,”

then kisses you again because you’re finally done playing games

mlist ツ