"I'm here to see my children."

The air inside the hallway crackles and it had nothing to do with the cold winter air. One hand on the doorframe, your other fiddles with the keys as you survey the woman in front of you. It would be a lie to say that you hadn't imagined what the children's mother might look like — the woman who held Jungkook's affections for so long. 

This was not what you had expected. Her frazzled appearance, the nervous edge to her every breath as her eyes continued to dart toward the driveway, almost like she was expecting someone to turn up. Her arms tighten across her torso and her attention flickers back to you, "Can I come in?" 

You could tell that she was anxious to get inside and your heart aches when you thought of how cold she must be where she stands. But your concern is not loud enough to quiet the underlying suspicion that settles in your stomach. Something was wrong. How could you trust that she is who she claims to be? Was letting a stranger inside a house that wasn't even yours such a good idea? 

Another minute passes and the woman on the front porch grows increasingly agitated with each second, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Empathy wins out in the end and you give her a reluctant nod as you step aside, "Sure. Come in." 

She doesn't hesitate when granted permission — hurrying past you without as much as thanking you. Luckily she ventures no further than the dresser, studying the tidy space as though she was seeing it for the first time. 

The front door shuts behind you once more and you turn to her with an awkward but friendly smiles. "You can put your shoes right here," you gesture toward the shoe rack. 

"Oh," the woman blinks, like she had just remembered the ragged sneakers on her feet. She pulls them off with trembling hands, setting them alongside your own newly bought ones. When she straightens up she immediately loops back to what she had come here for. "Where are the children?" she turns to glance over her shoulder, "Upstairs?" 

Your heart beats rapidly against your ribcage, blood rushing to the tips of your fingers as you swallow. Shit. You had completely forgotten about Cassian and Rayne who'd gone to retrieve his beloved Frank. The sound of their footsteps were now echoing down the hall above you, undoubtedly headed back to the bottom floor. 

"How about…" your hand finds her elbow, and the woman jumps slightly, "You wait in the living room and I bring them?" 

She frowns at that, lips parting with an objection she never voices out loud. Then she turns and heads down the hall toward the living room — clearly familiar with the layout of the house, which only further unsettled you. 

The moment she's out of sight you jolt into action, moving for the staircase as fast as your legs would carry you. Climbing two steps at the tine, you haul yourself up only to be stopped halfway as you nearly go crashing into both children, who'd been descending the stairs. 

Cassian was now hugging his beloved dinosaur plushie, their coats buttoned up and ready to go. He makes a confused face when you appear in front of them. His sister stands just in front of him, her gaze dragging across your frame with a raised brow. "Was there someone at the door?" she asks, undoubtedly having heard the voices coming from downstairs just moments ago. 

You hesitate, teeth shredding the inside of your cheek as you think of a plausible explanation. "It was… The postman!" humming softly, "Yeah. He needs a package to be signed, it shouldn't take long." 

Rayne looks far from convinced, her dark eyes flickering to a spot over your shoulder before returning to you. Though before she gets the chance to interrogate you on the matter, you place a firm hand on her arm. "I need you to take your brother upstairs and wait inside your room. Can you do that?"

She doesn't answer to that right away, sending Cassian a quick look before letting her brows furrow deeply. "But it's just the postman—" 

"Do as I say." You cut her off, something you would've never done under different circumstances, and Rayne catches on quickly as the crease on her forehead grows all the more prominent. "Go to your bedroom, close the door and don't come out until I get you, understood?" 

Cassian makes a small disgruntled noise behind his sister but nods in her place, already tugging on her coat sleeve. The latter holds her ground for another ten seconds before letting out a sigh as her shoulders slump. "Okay," she says, turning to lead her brother up the stairs without looking back. 

You watch them take their leave, exhaling the breath that had been trapped within your lungs for the past minute. When heading back downstairs, you do so with a racing heart, approaching the living room as quietly as possible. 

The woman was seated on one of the sofas, her restless hands placed on her lap as she takes in the area silently. You clear your throat, making her twitch in her seat as her head snaps in your direction. "Are they—?" 

"They'll be a minute," you tell her, flashing her the most convincing smile you could muster. She seems to be put at ease by your reassurance, relaxing against the couch ever so slightly with a tilt of her chin. 

She was their mother that much was clear. If not for her eyes that resembled so much of Rayne's, then be it the, now slightly matted, curls her son inherited. Part of you feels guilty for keeping her from her own children — the other doesn't trust her to see them. 

Jungkook had made little notion of her during the three months in which you had been working under his roof. But when he, or the children, did, it was always followed by unspoken tension. You did not know what had happened between them, whatever it was, it had left permanent scars. 

"I never asked your name." 

The woman's sudden question pulls you from your thoughts and you blink. Something about her makes your throat dry up and you barely get the introduction past your lips as you shift by the doorway. 

She doesn't seem to notice the waver to your voice, simply humming to herself. "I'm Yelena." No handshake follows, she doesn't seem to keen on initiating one and neither are you. 

Yelena. 

It feels strange to put a name to the woman you had only been hearing about in short, sporadic bursts. A beautiful name it was. And though she looked… rough, you still imagined her to be a gorgeous woman underneath the eye bags and sickly pale skin. 

Jungkook crosses your mind for the first time since her arrival, his absence had been loud after your last conversation but now it was blaring. You glance down the hall, then back to Yelena who hadn't said another word. "Can I uh, get you anything to drink?"

She turns her attention back to you, it seemed to be straying a lot. "Water," is all she says, not bothering with any pleasantries as she goes back to studying her cuticles. 

You nod, quickly spinning on your heel as you head for the hallway again. Time was sparse and though you hardly believed her to be counting down the seconds, you knew that taking too long would raise suspicion. 

The telephone sitting on the dresser becomes your salvation and you pick it up without hesitation. Next to it sits the sticky note Jungkook had left all those weeks ago, in case you ever needed to get in contact with him whilst watching the kids. You had never called to his office, you'd never needed to. 

And yet here you are, frantically typing in the number with trembling fingers. You bring the phone to your ear as you wait, chewing on the blunt edge of your nail to ease your nerves. 

There's nothing but static to fill the oppressive silence around you and for a long while you think he might not pick up at all. Could you blame him? But then the call connects and you breathe out a sigh of relief as Jungkook's voice comes through on the line. "Hello," his tone is flat, devoid of any emotion at first, but when you don't respond it grows concerned, "Are the children alright?"

Your heart twists in your chest and you throw a glance at the stairs, nodding as though he could see you. "Yeah. For now at least," you murmur, pressing the handset a little closer to your ear as you speak directly into the transmitter, "You need to come back." 

Jungkook sighs, "What?" And you could perfectly picture his brows drawing together across his forehead. 

Sucking in a quiet breath, you dare a peek toward the archway which you had just emerged from, lowering your voice into a whisper, "There's a woman here. She says that she's here to see her children…" You gnaw on your bottom lip, worried that she might come looking for you — or worse, the kids — if you didn't hurry up. "Her name's Yelena." 

The line goes silent. 

You listen for Jungkook, catching only that of his steady breaths, they sound mechanical, like he was forcing each one past his lungs. "Jungkook, did you hear—"

"Did you let her inside?" His voice is cold now, much colder than it had been even during your last conversation — it makes a shill crawl down your spine. "Answer me!" He sounds upset when he repeats himself only a second later, "Did you let her inside the house?" There was a frantic edge to him, and in the background you heard the sound of a briefcase snapping shut. 

You grip the telephone a little tighter as you brace yourself. "Yes," it felt like confessing to a crime, "She's in the living room…" 

"Where are the children?" he asks. 

"Upstairs," you're quick to respond, "They don't know she's here. I told them to wait for me." 

Jungkook exhales on the other end of the line, but he did not sound relieved, "Good. I'm on my way." 

"Okay," you say, adding in a quiet, "Please hurry," before he gets the chance to end the call. He pauses at that — perhaps the waver to your voice or the way it had cracked on the last syllable gave you away. 

"I will." 

The static returns and you're left all alone in the far too big hallway. You stare down at the phone in your hand, clinging onto it even though Jungkook was already gone. Then you remember that Yelena was still waiting for you, and if she hadn't mulled over your absence yet — she was bound to any minute now. 

You return to the living room shortly, this time with a glass of water in hand, only to find the couch where you had left her to be empty. Your pulse jumps in your throat, dread washing over you until you spot her by the fireplace. 

Yelena's fingers were tracing the edge of the mantel clock slowly. "This one is new," she hums, more to herself than anyone else. Her gaze darts across the room and over to the coffee table when you set the glass down, then it continues across the walls behind and around you. "Tapestry is the same." 

She would go on like that for another two minutes, counting each change in the room under her breath. "Not the same pillows, old carpet, brown bookshelves…" Her feet barely make a sound as she pads around the sofa you sit on, and you avoid looking her way as you instead watch your own hands. 

You weren't scared — nervous maybe. She appears harmless but her presence still unsettles you deeply. And Jungkook's reaction certainly hadn't helped. You could only hope he was keeping his word and stepping on the gas to get here. 

The couch in front of you creaks and your attention pivots over to her as she sits down on the cushions opposite you. Even whilst seated, she was moving. Her leg bouncing restlessly, fingers picking at the sleeves of her fleece as her eyes dart around the space despite having examined it closely just now. 

It was impossible not to notice the signs in front of you. The way she kept wetting her lips, reaching for the glass to chug half of it before setting it down again. Her consistent shifting, how she keeps adjusting herself like she couldn't find a comfortable position. 

The fact that she was in some sort of withdrawal was clear — and that made you sweat. 

"Where's Jungkook?" she suddenly asks, her gaze fixating on you for once. 

That was the first time she'd mentioned him, and judging by the way she kept biting her tongue, she was anxious to hear your response. 

"He's at work," you tell her, leaving out the fact that he was currently racing home. You're glad that you did, for Yelena instantly relaxes a fraction, her shoulders slumping as she nods. 

"Ah," she hums, "That's good." Her fingers untangle, coming to rest flat across her knees as she straightens up against the sofa. There's a calculating look in her eyes now, a new sharpness that slices through the dull brown. "How do you know my ex-husband?" 

Your blood runs colder than the air outside and you hope she doesn't notice the way you struggle to take down your next swallow. Never had you wished so intently for Jungkook to just step through the door and spare you of the conversation about to unfold. 

"I uhm—" scratching the back of your neck, you send her a sheepish smile, "I'm the kids' nanny." 

Yelena's brows rise on her forehead, the corner of her lips tugging into a frown that she does little to hide. "A nanny?" She gives you a long once-over, "We've never had a nanny before…" 

You didn't linger on her statement, too caught up in trying to figure out why she was here now. What had compelled her to return after so long? According to Jungkook over a year had passed — so why now? 

But Yelena does not give you time to ponder the matter for long. She's already rising from her seat, brushing her pants with jerky movements as she turns her head in the direction of the archway behind you. "The children are taking long," she says, "Perhaps I should go check on them." 

Without waiting to hear your opinion, she steps forward, intent on heading upstairs herself to see what was prolonging their arrival. You shoot up from the couch, putting yourself in front of her as you exhale a shaky breath. "They'll be down in a minute," you assure her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She was freezing cold. 

Yelena jerks back at the touch, surprise striking her features before it morphs into something almost offended. "I'd like to see my kids," she huffs, trying to move around you toward the stairs. 

You match her stride, blocking her path once more as you give a strained shake of your head. "Let's just sit back—" 

Down the hall, a lock twists, the front door opening a second later. Jungkook was back. Never had you thought you'd be so relieved to hear that sound, especially not given your last talk in his study. Yelena seems to register the newcomer as well, her already pale face draining its last bit of color. 

She sends you a quick accusing glance but the footsteps were already moving down the hall quickly. Jungkook appears in the doorway just then, his dark hair is a mess, strands falling down to meet his brows, which were pulled together deep enough to form one. He pauses when he sees you, eyes landing on your hand resting over her shoulder. 

Yelena is pulled from her trance and she takes a few steps back, leaving your fingers to hover in the air uselessly before they drop to your side. Jungkook pays her little mind, crossing the distance between you in three long strides. His hand brushes your elbow, the touch far too tender for this moment. 

"Are you okay?" he murmurs, loud enough for only you to hear. 

Nodding, you remain silent, not trusting yourself to speak — or take your attention off of his ex-wife who'd gone back to picking at her fleece. Jungkook's gaze stays with you, searching your face and body for any signs of deceit. He exhales, nostrils flaring slightly as he releases you. 

"Go to the children," he instructs and when he reads the hesitation on you, he adds, "Now." 

You did not dare argue with him and without another word you head in the direction he'd just came from, slipping around the corner and savoring a long breath once you're finally out of sight. 

The stairs are right in front of you, Cassian and Rayne waiting just beyond them. You push off the wall you'd been leaning against, taking a step forward when suddenly, Jungkook's voice can be heard from the living room. 

"What are you doing here?" 

His tone is demanding just as it is void of any warmth. But it is the underlying tremor that he cannot hide, that makes you pause. You stand frozen in the middle of the hallway, fingers stretched for the banister but your feet still planted to the carpet. There you find yourself torn between going up to be with the children like you'd been instructed, or to stay where you were, just in case thing escalated. 

"I'm here to see my kids," Yelena follows his question up a moment later, but even she sounds doubtful of her own words. 

There's a sharp scoff — from who? you can't tell, but if you would have to guess, then Jungkook. "You have some audacity to call them yours," he snaps back almost instantly and it is then you make up your mind. 

Abandoning the stairs, you creep back to toward the archway, resting yourself against the wall as you let your head tip against it. Your palms are flat on top of the tapestry and you shift just enough to steal a peek around the doorframe. 

Jungkook stands with his back to you. His shoulders are tense, fingers twitching restlessly by his sides — the way you so rarely saw them do. He hasn't moved since your exit but Yelena has. She was back by the fireplace, caressing the mantel nervously as she avoids his gaze with a held tongue. 

"Don't lie to me," he bitterly adds. The floorboards creak under his weight when he takes a step forward, only to stop himself halfway of reaching for her, regretting the decision again. Though you could not see his facial expression, it wasn't hard to guess that it carried pain. "Over a year," his voice cracks just slightly, "It's been over a year and you haven't even—" 

He cuts himself short, abruptly turning and you quickly duck behind the wall once more, listening to the sound of his pacing. When you finally dare to glance around the corner, he was standing by the window, this time with one shoulder facing you. The tension in his jaw becomes clear now, it doesn't lessen when he rubs a hand over it. 

"You can't just show up here, especially not when I'm at work, you—" he inhales sharply, realization flickering past his eyes, "You weren't even going to tell me you were here, were you?" He sounds disbelieving of himself even as he confirms it, but he's not bothering to hear her out. 

Yelena doesn't deny it either, simply watching the path her hand takes across the mantel. You understood then that she had chosen a time frame in which Jungkook would be out of the house. Her showing up at the front porch was no coincidence but a planned move. It makes your stomach twist. 

"I wanted to see my children," she continues to push her narrative and her gaze moves up to meet his for the first time since her arrival. "But I knew you wouldn't let me." There wasn't an ounce of guilt within her eyes, as though she'd been perfectly content to do something like this without his knowing. 

Jungkook chokes on a strained laugh that's anything but amused. He rubs both palms over his face roughly, nails digging into his forehead as he breathes deeply. "The children?" he echoes between his fingers, "You really think I'll believe that?" His hands return to his sides and he takes a step back, hip bumping against the window sill, though he hardly seems to register it. 

"You," he points in her direction, "Have had all the time in the world to see them but you—" His lips press into a firm line, silencing whatever he might say next. 

Yelena makes a grimace, somewhere between hurt and offended. But she says nothing and Jungkook's irritation only mounts. "Why are you really here?" He asks, studying the worn clothes that hang off her lanky frame, the hollow of her cheeks, surely noticing the eye bags just like you had. 

"It's been a rough couple of months," she admits in a hoarse whisper, her face morphing into something pitiful, "I just need a little. Just to get me back on my feet."

Jungkook's brows shoot high on his forehead, an exasperated scoff passing his lips. "That's what this is about? Money?" His jaw clenches, "You didn't get enough last time — so what? now you're back for more?" He shakes his head, "Not a chance." 

His blunt refusal only makes Yelena double down as she stumbles forward, causing the former to jerk back. "Please. I promise I'll use them for good," she smiles, a weak and strained smile, "I'm all better now." The lie feels mocking and it slaps even you across the face, you're sure Jungkook feels the same as he regards his ex-wife. 

There's an intimidating scowl plastered across his face, but his hands were trembling by his sides as she approached. 

Your fingers have curled so tight around the doorframe that the splinters were bound to snap under the force, you barely notice it, far too occupied with watching the scene play out in front of you. You follow their every move and your heart pounds loudly in your chest — though not loud enough to mask the creak of wood behind you. 

Whirling around where you stand, you spot Cassian on the bottom step of the stairs. He's clutching Frank in one arm as he, too, listens to the voices coming from the living room. "Nanny?" he croaks, wide and uncertain eyes darting between the entryway and you. 

Quickly straightening up, you rush over to gently grab him by his shoulders. "What are you doing down here, sweetie?" you whisper, reaching down to take one of his hands in your own, "I thought I told you to stay with your sister." 

The young boy slowly nods. "I'm sorry," he mumbles, "I was thirsty… Rayne told me not to go." He hesitates, blinking once when the sound of Jungkook's voice comes barreling through the thick air: 

"You're insane to think that I'd give you anything!" 

Cassian turns toward the living room, his brows furrowing over his forehead. "Daddy's home?" He looks as though he wants to go to him, to hug his father even though he left less than an hour ago. You stop him, already climbing the stairs he'd just come from as you tug him along. 

"Let's go and wait in your sister's room for a bit." You don't look back, only slowing down enough to make sure that he was keeping up. 

He does so, albeit reluctantly, "But my water…" 

You were thankful that it was his biggest concern at the moment, and you give him a small smile. "I'll go and get you some soon," you promise him. 

The door to Rayne's bedroom had been left ajar and you nudge it open with the help of your shoulder as you pull her little brother inside with you. "Alright, why don't you take a seat right here?" You guide him down onto the edge of her bed, adjusting the dinosaur plushies in his lap. 

Cassian lets you arrange him without complaint, neither him nor his sister question your hurried, slightly unsteady hands when you walk up to close the door firmly. 

Rayne was sat by her desk, her coat hung up on the back of her chair and an open book laid in front of her — though its pages seemed to be forgotten. Their shoes were placed neatly by the foot of the bed, Cassian's outdoor wear draped over the wooden post. 

The air in here was a lot warmer than that of the living room, but even that temporary comfort was quickly shun by the sound of Jungkook and Yelena downstairs. Their conversation had clearly escalated into a full blown argument, loud enough to where you could slowly start to make out what was being shouted. 

Cassian stiffens when the voice of a woman registers — and not just any woman. His gaze meets Rayne's, searching for answers which his big sister refuse to give. "Who is daddy talking to?" he wonders, but receives no response from the older. She only turns back to her book, pretending like nothing was wrong. 

You bite your lip, scrambling for something to distract them both with as the discussion between their parents unfold in the distance. "I know!" Clasping your hands together, you manage to draw the young boy's attention, "Why don't we read something all of us together?" 

Without waiting to hear his answer, you walk over to the crammed bookshelf opposite the bed. No one responds, though Cassian shifts slightly where he sits as he fiddles with his plushie. Another sharp remark from Yelena downstairs makes you bite back a wince and you pull the first title you find from the shelf. 

"Alright, scoot over." You nudge Cassian gently and he obliges when crawling back to rest his back against the headboard. Frank is still pressed against his chest and he clings to the dino when you settle beside him. "Rayne, come here," you pat the spot to your right, giving her an expectant smile which she returns with a displeased frown. 

Any other day you think she might've outright refused, but she was not oblivious to what was going on downstairs and when their voices only grow louder, she finally hops off her chair and walks over. 

The small children's bed was hardly made for three, but you made do as you cozied up together, Cassian nuzzling into your side as his sister sat stiffly. Their bodies are warm against your own and you take a moment to savor the comforting feeling as you open the first page. 

"Which book is this?" Cassian asks against your shoulder. 

"Moby Dick," you tell him. 

"Does it have pictures?" 

"Not this version, no…" 

He scrunches his nose at that, "I don't like it then." 

"That's because you're dumb," Rayne retorts as she adjusts herself slightly. Her brother shoots upright at that, his features twisted into offense. 

"Am not!" 

"Are too," she hums when tilting her chin up. 

"Hey," you slam the book shut with more force than necessary, raising a brow as you glance between them. "Do we want to hear this story or not?" 

Cassian nods, looking chastised as he presses his cheek against your arm. Rayne only sighs, but makes no further remark on the matter. Downstairs, the argument continues and you try to drown out the noise as you begin to read: 

"…I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world." 

You had barely gotten through the first paragraph when Cassian suddenly speaks up, "Why does he want to sail?" 

Reaching a hand up to stroke his curly hair back, you smile. "You'll find out when we keep going." To which he nods and sinks back against you with a quiet 'okay'. 

Not even a full minute later, he interrupts again. "I don't understand," he whine after you had read: "This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship." Cassian had little patience for the much slower pace compared to his picture-books and was squirming on the spot, "And who is Cato?" 

"You wouldn't know him," Rayne says as she tucks her ponytail over her shoulder, causing her brother to pout. 

Shaking your head, you wrap an arm around the small boy in an attempt to still him. "It means," you hum when pointing to the page, "That he goes to the ocean whenever he feels sad, that way he doesn't do bad stuff." 

Cassian mulls over this new revelation for a bit. "More people should go to the ocean then," he finally says. 

You nod, "Yeah. They should." 

The children did settle down after a few pages, the younger's insistent questions eventually stop and soon enough he was dead weight against your arm — deeply asleep. Rayne sits quietly beside you, and when the chapter comes to an end she doesn't question why you stop reading. 

Downstairs, the sound of Jungkook and Yelena's arguing have ebbed out into silence — a silence that is soon followed by the slamming of a front door. It shakes the entire house and for a second you thought it might even wake Cassian, but the young boy only sighs in his sleep. 

Rayne, too, swallows a deep breath, one so heavy that it settles over the entire bedroom. She doesn't look at you when she speaks, her gaze fixed on something far ahead outside the window, something you could not see. 

"That wasn't the postman, was it?" 

Her tone is leveled, certain. It's not a question, not really, and judging by the way she avoids your gaze, you know that she knows. 

"No," you say, closing the book as you place it on your lap, "It wasn't." 

She parts her lips but no words come out, so she seals them together again. You thought she would ask about her mother, demand an explanation as to why her and her brother hadn't been allowed to see her. Was she angry with you? With Jungkook? But Rayne only nods, a slow tilt of her chin as she settles back against the pillows. 

You lift a hand, letting it hover for a moment before gently placing it atop her head. When she doesn't immediately reject the initiated contact you let your fingers brush through her dark, silky hair. Her lashes kiss her cheeks as her eyes fall shut and she lets out air through her nose. 

Ten minutes or so pass, it's not a comfortable silence but it isn't hostile either. After a while her breathing grows heavy as well, and she, too, falls asleep against your side. You stay frozen, simply basking in the feeling of having them close. Had it not been for the thought of Jungkook downstairs, you could've probably stayed where you were for hours. 

The mattress groans when you carefully shift your weight off of it, making sure not to wake either of the children as you drape a blanket over them. The younger curls into his sister's side to fill the absence you had left behind. Rayne lets him, her nose twitching when a lock of curls brush across her cupids bow, then she relaxes again. 

They look vulnerable like this, so small and fragile that it makes your heart ache. You stand there, watching them sleep a little longer before turning to head out of the room, closing the door after you soundlessly. 

You move slowly down the stairs, hoping not to make too much noise as you descend. When passing the large hallway, you find that Yelena's shoes are gone from the foyer, indicating that she really had left. When entering the living room you find no trace of her left in there, save for the glass of water you had provided earlier. 

Jungkook sits on the very same couch she had been not long ago. He cradles his head in both hands, dark fringe falling across his fingers. His elbows rest on his knees, leaving him bent forward as he breathes slowly and deeply. 

You linger by the doorway, unsure if he would want company right now. But leaving him alone like this didn't feel like an option either. 

He doesn't speak when you sink down on the cushion beside him, nor does he look up at you. Hell, you could've been a ghost for all you knew. There comes a moment of hesitation, then you reach up to place a hand on his shoulder, which immediately tenses under your touch. 

"The kids are asleep," you tell him. Normally he wouldn't want them napping during the day — another bullet point on his long list of rules — you think this afternoon might be an exception. 

Jungkook doesn't respond, but he exhales against his palms where his face remains buried. You sit in silence for a couple of minutes. He must know that whatever went down between him and Yelena wasn't exactly a private conversation, their voices had been loud enough to rattle the paintings on the walls and alert the neighbors. Even so, he makes no move to address it. 

"What happened?"

Your question isn't malicious, it's concerned in nature, but perhaps he saw it differently. It sits between you, heavy and loaded, until he finally leans back against the couch. His hands fall away from his face, revealing the tension etched between his brows and into his jaw. "It doesn't matter," he says. 

You frown, twisting in your seat to see him better. "Of course it matters," you press, "The children will asks questions, and I don't know how to answer them—" 

"You don't have to," he sighs, "It's not your job." 

Job. 

That single word stings more than you want for it to. The way he still views everything as a transaction — after all that had happened between you two he still made it very clear that you were nothing but the kids' nanny, and he was nothing but your employer. 

"Alright," you murmur, trying not to let the hurt show, "Will you at least tell me what's going on?" 

Jungkook groans, rubbing his palm over his forehead before letting his hand drop to his lap. "I really don't want to talk right now," he grinds out, fingers digging into his own thigh as he sits rigidly. 

You know that you should give it a rest but you can't help the pang of concern you'd felt at seeing Yelena — no matter how uncomfortable she made you. "She looked sick," you whisper and Jungkook's expression fractures slightly, "Is she going to be okay? Does she have a place to go?" 

Though you knew very little about the woman who had appeared on the doorstep, you could tell that she had come here as a last resort — and Jungkook turned her away. For good reason you want to believe, but it still didn't ease your mind. 

"I have it figured out just please—" He's still not looking at you, but the muscles in his face twitch as he heaves another breath. "Drop it, alright? She's an addict who has no business trying to get in contact with my children." 

He speaks of her with such contempt, his features twisting with disgust as he utters each syllable. And yet, the tremble to his jaw and his glassy eyes betray him in the end. The conversation you'd had in his study earlier feels pathetic and small in comparison to whatever was going on right now — and you shove the feelings it had left you with aside as you shift a little closer, hoping to provide comfort. 

"Do you want me to stay longer today?" you ask him, the hand you keep on his shoulder reaching for his face. "I could see to the children, take them out for a bit when they wake up?" 

Jungkook's hand clasps around your wrist — firm though not painful — as he halts your fingers that were just shy of brushing his cheek. "No," he says flatly, tugging your hand back to your own lap, "I want you to go." 

That cuts deeper than you'd expected for it to. He was rejecting you entirely, he didn't even want you around. And you know that you should be giving him space, it was obvious that the conversation between him and Yelena had upset him greatly but could he not see that you were only trying to help? And what of the children when they woke up? 

You wondered how that would play out before realizing — it wasn't your job. 

So with a defeated sigh you push yourself up from the sofa, nodding as you flatten out your shirt over your jeans. "Okay." Your footsteps echo throughout the room as you make your way across it. Only once you reach the doorway do you pause, turning to peer over your shoulder. 

Jungkook was still sat on the couch, his gaze fixed to the floor. His face holds no emotion but you knew it was there, buried beneath the hardened layers. Your fingers curl into a loose fist before releasing again. "Call me if you need anything," a small olive branch that you hoped he would take, "You know where to find me." 

But Jungkook simply grunts, not lifting his eyes even as you head to leave. The front door shuts a minute later and the house is left in silence. You clutch the car keys in one hand, all thought of taking the children for a ride vanishing as you slump down behind the wheel. 

Letting out a big sigh that had been building in your chest for hours now, you twist on the engine and pull out of the driveway.

The streets are covered in snow, forcing you to go easy on the gas to stay steady. You wonder how Jungkook had managed to get home so quickly without landing himself in an accident… Immediately scolding yourself for letting your thoughts wander back to him, you try to steer your mind elsewhere. 

Christmas spirit was still in the air. Almost each house you drove past had decorated gardens and you spotted trees in almost every home — a stark contrast to the Jeon estate. Families were out with their children, mothers and fathers holding hands, snowball fights taking place in the front yards. A domestic sight, really. 

A big sign advertising fireworks reminds you that New Years was coming up in a short four days, and you still hadn't made any plans. Daehyun was going out with a couple of friends, you could surely tag along if you wanted to. Or perhaps you would spend it cooped up in your apartment, toasting to yourself at midnight before hitting the sack. 

Part of you had hoped that after spending the holidays with them, Jungkook would invite you to celebrate the new year as well. Though that had been before he dropped you off at the train station, before your conversation in his study and before his ex-wife turned up on the front porch. You sigh, giving up on the idea again as you come to a stop by a red light. 

Your fingers drum against the wheel mindlessly, your gaze drifting lazily across the street ahead of you when you suddenly spot her — Yelena. 

She was walking down the street across from you to the right. Had it not been for her disheveled appearance, the thin fleece and mattered hair that made her stick out among the many, you probably wouldn't have noticed her. She trudges forward with her arms wrapped around her torso, shivering with each step and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

When the light turns green you don't hesitate to make a sharp turn, cutting off another car who expressed his dislike with a long, blaring honk. Ignoring him, you easily catch up with Yelena, slowing to match her pace as you lean over to roll down the window on the passenger side. 

"Hey!" 

Your voice startles her and she skips to the side as her head whips in your direction, her hair flying everywhere. For a moment she looks confused, then recognition settles over her features. 

"Can I give you a ride anywhere?" You don't know what compels you to make the offer, all you know is that you're eager to get her off the freezing streets. Looking at her now — in the freezing December air — it was hard to think her to be the same woman that had been yelling inside Jungkook's living room. 

You don't find yourself unsettled by her in this moment, even though she was clearly unwell. Rather, you pitied her as she walked down the pavement in nothing but a fleece to protect her from the darkest and coldest month of the year. 

But Yelena doesn't seem to share your feelings. Her brows knit together as she eyes your car warily. "Did he send you?" There's venom lacing her every word and the mention of Jungkook catches you by surprise. 

Keeping one hand steady on the wheel, you glance back at the road before shaking your head. "No. I just happened to drive by and—" 

"Well you can tell him that he's a selfish asshole!" Yelena points a finger toward you, spitting the words in your face. "And I don't need you throwing me a pity party," she scowls, "I know that you called him, you snake." She turns away from you then, spinning on her heel and heading in the opposite direction just to get away. 

You sit in stunned silence for a while, your vehicle barely inching forward as you blink slowly. The chilly breeze sweeps in through the open window on the passenger side but it's not until the drivers behind you start slamming their horns that you finally snap out of your trance. 

Leaning over to hastily roll your window up, you press down on the gas to get them off your back. It seems like no matter what you do — your help was unwanted. With a final glance in the rear view mirror, you catch sight of Yelena's retreating figure in the distance. A sigh escapes you as you turn your attention back to the street before you, bumping the radio up to another lame Christmas Carol. 

Then you drive home. 

── [ ✉️ ] I like this I think. It's so different seeing Jungkook from a different POV after being in his head for so long. Some might think his reaction was a bit underwhelming (?) But trust me, he's going through it on the inside. We already know him to be very quiet about his feelings, but they'll be unfolding as the chapters go on. Please leave me your thoughts I'd love to hear them <3

You feel him shift behind you, then beside you, then his chest brushes your shoulder as he leans in.

“We need to sweep first,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear.

Goosebumps race down your neck, and you bite the inside of your cheek because Jesus, his voice does things when it’s pitched low like that.

His eyes are already moving. Methodical. Left sector, center, right. You watch his pupils dilate slightly as he processes everything, like his brain’s running equations you can’t see.

"Kaleido mentioned four men," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "But that's surface intel. Could be six. Could be eight. Depends on shift rotation and whether Fervio called for backup after the villa."

His fingers tap against your hip. Once, twice, three times. Soft little pulses that you feel more than hear.

"Wind's coming from the northeast at approximately four knots, which means sound carries toward the warehouses, not the water. Visibility's decent—maybe sixty percent with the fog rolling in. Moon's at seventy-two percent luminosity, provides enough light for visual confirmation without night vision but not enough for clean long-range shots without thermal."

You blink. "...What?"

His thumb shifts slightly, pressing into the small of your back like he's anchoring himself.

"The patterns," he continues, totally unbothered by your confusion. "They'll likely run standard perimeter checks—two mobile, two stationary. If they're smart, they've got overwatch on the ship itself, probably the bridge or the cargo deck. If they're really smart, they've got a counter-sniper positioned somewhere with elevation advantage, which means I need to map probable vantage points before we move."

"Jeon."

"Blind spots are—"

"Jeon."

He pauses. You feel it in the way his body goes still against yours, that tactical calculator brain of his grinding to a halt.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Seduction Division, not Tactical." You tilt your head just enough to catch his profile in your peripheral vision. "Translate for us mere mortals?"

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but close enough that it does something stupid to your pulse.

"Okay," he says, and his voice drops lower, softer, like he's letting you in on a secret. "See those three ships docked to the left?"

You nod.

"Two of Fervio's men are probably moving between them. They'll sweep the perimeter every fifteen minutes, maybe twenty if they're lazy. That gives us a window to move, but only if we time it right."

His fingers tap again, and you're starting to think it's not just tactical—it's nervous energy.

Or maybe focus.

Hard to tell with him.

"The other two are stationary. One's probably on the ship itself, keeping watch over Yunjin. The other..." His eyes scan the surrounding buildings. "Somewhere high. Watching the approach."

"So we can't just walk up there."

"No. We need elevation first. Higher ground means better sightlines, which means I can map their positions before we commit to an approach vector."

You process that. "You need to see them before they see us."

"Exactly."

There's something almost pleased in his tone, like you passed some kind of test.

It shouldn't make you feel as good as it does.

"That's the difference," he adds, and there's a shift in his voice—something darker threading through. "Between Tactical and Stealth."

You go still.

He brought it up. 

He brought up V.

"V would already be moving," Jeon continues, matter-of-fact. "He'd use the fog, the shadows, the blind spots between ships. By the time they realized someone was there, he'd already be inside, and half of them would be dead."

His thumb presses harder against your back. Not painful, just... there.

Then his jaw tightens. Just a fraction.

“Stealth is about chaos. V would go in close, fast, loud when it counts. He’d use the first kill to draw the others out, then cut through them before they could process what’s happening. No corridor. No plan. Just”—he exhales sharply through his nose—“circles.”

“Circles?”

“I think in straight lines,” Jeon says, and there’s something almost bitter in his tone. “Point A to point B. Cause and effect. V thinks in circles. Loops. He’ll take the longest route if it means fucking with someone’s head first.”

You process that.

The way he knows V’s patterns down to the philosophy behind them.

The way he can predict every one of V’s moves despite the obvious hatred simmering between them.

You swallow. "You worked together though."

The words come out carefully. Not quite a question, but an opening. An invitation to say more if he wants.

"Before," you add, watching his face in the reflection of the water.

Before.

Jeon’s silent for a long moment. Long enough that you think he’s going to shut down completely, ice you out like he does when anyone gets too close to whatever history’s carved into his bones.

But then he sighs.

It's barely audible, just this small exhale that sounds... tired.

"We did," he admits. The fingers on your hip go still. "We were—"

He stops. Recalculates. You can practically hear the gears turning as he searches for the right word.

"Effective."

That's not what he wanted to say.

You can tell by the way his jaw tightens, the way his thumb twitches against your back like he's physically holding something in.

"Effective how?" you venture, keeping your voice light.

Curious but not pushy, make it his choice to share, not like you're digging.

His hand shifts on your hip. Not leaving, just adjusting. Getting more comfortable, maybe. Or bracing himself.

"I'd clear the approach," he says finally. "Long-range. Silent. By the time targets knew something was wrong, V was already inside, cleaning up. Zero survivors. Zero witnesses. Perfect operational efficiency."

Past tense.

Your chest tightens. You want to ask what happened, want to dig into the wound and see what made two of Kkangpae’s best stop being a team.

But you know Jeon. Know that pushing too hard means he’ll shut down completely.

So you aim as soft as you can.

“What happened?”

Jeon’s quiet again. You feel his chest expand against yours as he takes a deeper breath, scanning the pier one more time before his gaze drops to you.

For a second, you think he’s going to pull away and insist you move forward.

But his hand doesn’t move.

“We need to get to higher ground,” he says instead, nodding toward a stack of containers to the north. “I need line of sight. Need to map where Kaleido’s four men are, plus any extras he didn’t mention.”

He’s avoiding the question.

But his hand’s still on your hip.

And he’s looking at you like he wants to say more but doesn’t know how.

His fingers then hesitate, and there’s no missing it—the moment where he realizes his hand’s been resting there this whole time, anchoring you, keeping you close when tactically there’s no reason for it anymore.

The hesitation stretches.

One second.

Two.

Then his hand drops.

Cool air rushes in where his palm used to be, and you resist—barely—the urge to grab it and put it back.

“Come on,” he says, voice back to business. “Stay low. Follow my lead.”

He moves forward, fluid and silent, and you follow. But you’re still thinking about his hand.

About the way it felt.

About the word he didn’t say when he described working with V.

You try to match his rhythm anyways, the way he distributes his weight so his boots barely whisper against the concrete.

The shipping container looms ahead—rusted red steel stacked two high, perfect cover from whatever’s waiting on the ship. Jeon reaches it first, dropping into a crouch so fluid it looks choreographed. His head tilts back toward you, and then—

His right hand opens in the air.

Palm up. Fingers spread. Waiting.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Oh.

Oh.

He wants you to use his hand as a step. To boost yourself up onto the container.

Your eyes flick upward, taking in the second container stacked on top, the way it creates a perfect concealed pocket where you can move without being spotted from the ship.

Your gaze drops back to his outstretched palm.

One hand.

Just—one hand.

Is he seriously planning to not only support but propel your entire body weight up there with just his right arm? Like you’re a fucking feather instead of a full-grown woman in tactical gear?

You press your lips together, biting back what is definitely not a smile because this is absolutely not the time to be thinking about how stupidly strong he is. How those forearms that you’ve been trying very hard not to stare at aren’t just for show.

But Jesus.

The man’s hand doesn’t even waver. Just stays there, steady and sure, like boosting people several feet into the air is something he does on a weekday.

You take a breath. Deep and measured, the way Flower taught you before high-stakes ops.

Trust the plan.

Trust your partner.

Trust that Jeon’s physics-defying upper body strength won’t let you, you know, crash face-first into rusted steel.

You step forward, right foot lifting to settle into his palm. His fingers close around your boot, grip firm but careful, and you feel the coiled tension in his arm as he prepares to—

“Up,” he whispers.

His arm extends in one smooth, powerful motion, and you reach out instinctively, hands slapping against the steel rim, but you’re moving too fast, momentum carrying you forward and—

You wobble.

Shit. Shit.

Your balance tilts sideways, weight shifting wrong, and for a split second you’re certain you’re going to topple right off the edge and land in a very loud, very ungraceful heap.

But then his left hand catches your hip.

Warm. Steady. Anchoring you as he finishes the movement, pushing you up and over until you can get your elbows on solid steel and haul yourself the rest of the way.

You roll onto the container’s surface, staying low like he showed you, heart hammering from the adrenaline rush. When you turn back to look down, he’s already moving.

Jeon jumps, plants both palms on the container’s edge and pushes himself up.

And fuck, you should look away. Should focus on scanning for threats or checking sight lines or literally anything else that isn’t the way his forearms flex as he lifts his entire body weight like it’s nothing.

But you don’t look away.

Can’t, really.

Because watching Jeon move is like watching engineering in action. Every muscle coordinated, every motion efficient, no wasted energy or unnecessary effort. His shoulders bunch as he pulls himself higher, biceps straining against the black thermal fabric, and then he’s swinging one leg over the edge with liquid grace.

He lands in a crouch beside you, settling against the container wall without even breathing hard.

Show off.

Not that you’re complaining.

“You good?” he asks, voice pitched low.

“Yeah.”

The word comes out steadier than you feel. Because you are good—better than good, actually. There’s something about moving with him like this, matching his rhythm, trusting his strength, that makes every nerve ending feel sparked.

He nods once, already shifting into surveillance mode. His eyes sweep the pier below, noting shadows and movement, building that tactical map in his head.

You try to focus on the mission. Really, you do.

But you’re still thinking about his hands.

The way his right palm felt solid and sure beneath your boot. The way his left hand found your hip without looking, pure instinct guiding him to steady you when you needed it most.

The casual display of strength that probably didn’t even register to him as anything special.

Focus.

Right. Focus on the job. On finding the four men Kaleido mentioned. On mapping exit routes and identifying threats.

Not on the man beside you whose presence feels increasingly magnetic with every passing minute.

You shift slightly, trying to find a comfortable position against the steel, and accidentally brush his shoulder with yours.

He doesn’t move away.

Neither do you.

And maybe—maybe that’s a problem you’ll worry about later.

When Yunjin’s safe.

When the mission’s complete.

When you can afford to think about the way Jeon’s body heat seeps through your thermal top and makes your skin tingle.

You breathe steady as he shifts beside you, body angling for a better view of the pier.

He peers over the container’s edge, just enough to scan without exposing himself. Makes this soft humming noise, like he’s reviewing information in real time.

“I need a higher vantage point,” he murmurs, eyes tracking upward to the container stacked above you both.

Then he tilts his head toward you, beckoning with the slightest nod.

You scoot forward until you’re pressed against his side, close enough to follow his line of sight. The proximity sends heat crawling up your neck, but you ignore it. Mission first.

His arm extends, finger pointing toward the far right side of the pier. “See that first container?”

You nod.

“One man there.” His neck stretches as he adjusts his angle, scanning further. “Another one on the container after that. They’re both carrying HK416s 5.56, effective range about found hundred meters with those optics, though given the modifications I’m seeing…” He catches himself, throat clearing slightly. “Right. So, rifles.”

You bite back a smile. Only Jeon would start rattling off weapon specifications during a stealth operation and then remember he’s talking to someone who doesn’t need the technical breakdown.

His gaze moves upward again.

“I’ll be your eyes up there.” He points to the container above you both, then shifts back to scan the containers near the boats. “You handle close range, I’ll cover distance.”

And just like that, you realize what he’s saying.

He trusts you.

Trusts you to handle yourself without supervision.

Trusts your training enough that he can focus on what he does best—long-range precision—instead of worrying about babysitting a rookie through close combat.

The weight of that trust hits you square in the chest, making something flutter behind your ribs. Not butterflies exactly. Something bigger. More significant.

He believes in you.

You nod, and his mouth curves into the faintest smile.

Then his expression shifts, brows drawing together as he studies the layout ahead. His lips press into a thin line.

“The problem now is how to get you there.”

You follow his gaze, mapping the route.

There’s the container you’re on, then the massive one balanced on top of both yours and the adjacent container. The gap between them is wide—maybe four feet of empty air with concrete waiting below.

You can’t climb the bridging container. Being on top would leave you completely exposed, visible from the ship. And you can’t scale it while pressed against the side because there’s no foothold, nothing to grip except smooth steel.

But there might be another way.

You reach down, fingers finding the knife strapped to your ankle. The blade slides free with barely a whisper of steel on leather.

“Think I got an idea,” you whisper.

Jeon’s eyes drop to the knife, then flick back to your face. One eyebrow quirks up, curious but not doubtful.

His fingers suddenly catch your chin.

Thumb and index, firm but careful, turning your face toward his. The movement’s so quick you don’t have time to process it before you’re looking directly into those stormy eyes.

“What—”

But his other hand’s already moving. He reaches into the pocket of his tactical pants and pulls out two earpieces—yours and his. Must’ve pocketed them both back at the gravel lot.

He holds yours up, eyebrow raised.

You tilt your head without thinking, offering your ear, and his fingers brush the shell as he fits the piece back in. Careful. Precise. Way more gentle than the situation calls for.

Your skin prickles.

He fits his own in with his free hand, taps it twice, then goes back to yours—adjusting something, fingers working the tiny device with that little furrow between his brows.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Chief’s override,” he murmurs back. “Private channel.”

Oh.

Just you and him. No V. No main frequency. No one listening.

He finishes whatever technical magic he just performed and his hand drops. But his eyes stay on yours, scanning your face like he’s checking something important.

“That plan of yours is reckless, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

There it is. The nickname he’s been holding back all night, the one that only comes out when you’re alone and his guard drops just enough to let it slip through.

Bet he’s been wanting to call you that since you stepped foot in that palazzo.

His gaze drifts past you, tracking the route you’re thinking of taking without you having to explain a damn thing. Like your brain and his are running on the same frequency.

Container. Gap. Knife point. Swing. Left turn. First target. Straight line. Second target.

He sees it all in maybe three seconds.

“But then again,” he continues, and something that might be amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth, “your brand of recklessness tends to be refreshing.”

His head tilts slightly, one eyebrow quirking up. That little silver barbell catches the moonlight, and combined with the barely-there smirk playing across his lips, he looks almost… fond.

Fond.

Of your recklessness.

You can’t help but smile back. “I’ve got you, chief.”

The words come out easier than they should. Confident. Trusting. Like there’s no question in your mind that he’ll be exactly where you need him to be, when you need him there.

His expression shifts. Something unreadable flickers across his features before settling into that familiar mask of professional calm.

But his eyes stay soft.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You do.”

You turn your attention back to the route, mind already working through the mechanics.

The distance between containers. The angle you’ll need. The momentum required to clear the gap without making noise.

It’s doable. Risky as hell, but doable.

Cross to the bridging container. Wait for cover noise—ship horns work perfectly, loud enough to mask any sound you might make. Embed the knife deep enough to support your weight. Use it as an anchor point to swing yourself across the gap with enough momentum to land silently on the adjacent container.

Then it’s just following the inverse L formation. Left turn, drop down to take out the first guard. Straight line to the second container, quick jump, neutralize the second target.

All while Jeon provides overwatch from his elevated position, ready to take out any sniper that might have you in their sights.

Simple. Clean. Effective.

The kind of plan that blends stealth and tactical precision in a way that shouldn’t work but does.

Seduction Division at its finest.

A low horn echoes across the water. Deep, resonant, the kind of sound that carries for miles and drowns out everything else for those few precious seconds.

Perfect.

You grip the knife handle, testing the weight. The blade’s perfectly balanced, sharp enough to bite deep into steel if you hit it right.

You wait for the next horn.

When it comes, you move.

The knife leaves your hand in a clean arc, spinning once before sinking into a corrugated seam with a solid thunk—wedged deep between the steel panels like a piton.

The horn’s still echoing when you’re already moving, hands reaching for the knife handle, body coiling to make the swing.

Got it.

The swing carries you across the gap with perfect momentum. Your boots hit the adjacent container with barely a whisper, knees bending to absorb the impact.

Nailed it.

You stay low, pressing against the steel as you catch your breath. The knife’s still embedded in the bridging container behind you—you’ll have to retrieve it later. For now, you need cover.

You sprint across the container’s surface, staying crouched until you reach the far edge. Drop behind it, back pressed to the metal wall. Your heart hammers against your ribs, but your breathing stays controlled.

Focus.

A quick peek around the corner shows nothing. Empty pier stretching ahead, shadows dancing between stacked containers. No movement. No glint of weapons or boots.

Good.

You move left, following the route you mapped out earlier. The inverse L formation that’ll take you to the first target, then straight across to the second.

There’s another container stacked on top of the one ahead—perfect cover for what you’re planning. You reach the end of your current position and stop, pressing your hand to your earpiece.

Jeon’s voice comes through immediately, low and steady.

“Hold position, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

Even in the middle of a tactical operation, hearing that nickname makes something warm unfurl in your chest.

“He’s on my right,” Jeon continues, “so your left. Take the right side of the container, stay pressed against it. Walk slow—no rushing. When you reach the corner, wait for my signal.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Copy.”

“And remember—he’s got height on you. Use that. Get under his line of sight, come up from below. Arms up when you make contact.”

You move right, keeping your back flush against the container wall, weight distributed to minimize sound.

Slow and steady.

Your fingers brush the spare knife at your hip—backup plan if things go sideways. But you’re hoping it won’t come to that. Clean and quiet is the goal.

The container’s corner approaches. You can hear something now—faint shuffling, the scrape of boots against concrete.

He’s close.

Very close.

You press yourself tighter against the wall, hand finding your earpiece again.

Jeon’s voice is barely a whisper. “He’s lighting a cigarette. Distracted. You’ve got maybe thirty seconds before he starts moving again.”

Perfect.

Cigarette means his hands are occupied. Means his attention’s split between keeping watch and getting his nicotine fix.

“On my mark,” Jeon continues. “Three… two…”

You coil your muscles, ready to spring.

“One. Go.”

You round the corner fast but controlled, staying low like he taught you.

And there he is—tall guy with a rifle slung over his shoulder, lighter held up to his face. The orange glow illuminates his features for just a second.

Now.

You surge upward, arms coming up exactly like Jeon said. Your forearm catches the guy’s throat, cutting off any sound he might make. Your other hand goes for his weapon, yanking it away before he can react.

He’s bigger than you, stronger, but surprise is on your side. He stumbles backward, hands clawing at your arm, but you’re already shifting your weight, using his momentum against him.

Basic Seduction Division training. Get close, get control, get it over with.

The rifle clatters to the ground as you adjust your grip, cutting off his air supply completely. His struggles get weaker, more desperate, but you hold on.

Sorry, dude. Wrong place, wrong time.

He goes limp after what feels like forever but was probably only twenty seconds. You lower him carefully, making sure he doesn’t hit the ground too hard.

One down.

“Target neutralized,” you whisper into your earpiece.

“Clean work.” There’s something that might be pride in Jeon’s voice. “Second target’s moving. Straight ahead, next container over. Same approach—he’s scanning left, so come from his right side.”

You’re already moving, adrenaline singing through your veins.

This is what you trained for. What you’re good at.

And knowing Jeon’s watching, that he trusts you enough to let you handle this alone?

That makes you feel unstoppable.

You move right along the container wall. The steel feels solid against your back as you inch forward, listening for any sound that might give away the second guard’s position.

Your breathing stays controlled despite the adrenaline singing through your veins.

The corner approaches. You can hear him now, footsteps pacing back and forth. Restless energy. Good—means he’s not fully focused.

You coil your muscles, ready to spring around the corner and catch him off guard like the first guy.

But then you hear it.

Beep. Beep.

Some kind of notification. Radio chatter, maybe. Or a phone.

Shit.

You round the corner anyway, hoping to catch him while he’s distracted, but his head snaps up the second you move into his line of sight.

Fuck.

His eyes go wide—surprise, then immediate calculation. He’s bigger than the first guy, broader shoulders, and his hand’s already moving toward the rifle strapped across his chest.

You launch yourself at him anyway.

Your forearm catches him in the throat, but he jerks backward just enough that the hit doesn’t land clean. He staggers but doesn’t go down, and his hand closes around your wrist with crushing force.

Strong. Really fucking strong.

He twists your arm, trying to throw you off balance, but you go with it instead of fighting it.

Your legs come up, thighs clamping around his neck in a move Flower drilled into you until you could do it in your sleep. Perfect positioning—if you can just get the pressure right, cut off his blood flow, he’ll be unconscious in seconds.

But he doesn’t panic like most people do when they suddenly can’t breathe.

Instead, his fists start slamming into your thighs.

Ow. Fuck. OW.

Each hit sends spikes of pain up your legs, but you squeeze harder, trying to finish this before he can break free. The angle’s good, you’ve got leverage, just need to—

His hands find your ankles and he yanks.

You lose your grip around his neck and suddenly you’re airborne, the world spinning as he swings you around and releases you like you’re a fucking rag doll.

You hit the container floor hard, pain exploding through your shoulder and hip. Stars dance across your vision, but training kicks in before panic can.

Move. Get up. Fight back.

You roll onto your back just as he lunges toward you, probably planning to pin you down and finish this with his hands around your throat.

But you’re already lifting your leg, boot aimed straight at his descending face—

CRACK.

The sound echoes across the pier like thunder. The guard’s head snaps backward in a spray of red, his body crumpling to the side before he can complete his lunge.

Headshot. Clean. Instant.

Jeon.

“That gave away my position,” his voice comes through your earpiece, calm as if he just hadn’t turned someone’s skull into abstract art. “Listen carefully, sunshine. Point to your left.”

You push yourself up to sitting, wiping blood from where your lip split when you hit the container. Your thighs throb from where the guard’s fists connected, but nothing feels broken.

“My left?” you ask, getting your bearings.

“Your left. See that crane about two hundred meters out?”

You scan the pier until you spot it—massive industrial crane silhouetted against the pre-dawn sky, all steel beams and cables.

“Yeah.”

“There’s a sniper nest on the platform. Third level up, northwest corner. He’s got eyes on us now.”

Your stomach drops. “How do you know?”

“Because I would.” Matter-of-fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He heard my shot, knows there’s a counter-sniper in play. He’s acquiring me now, setting sights on my last position. You’ve got maybe thirty seconds before he realizes I’m moving and decides to focus on you instead.”

“Comforting.”

“Grab the rifle. The one that just dropped.”

You look around, spotting the weapon that fell when the now-headless guard went down. It’s splattered with blood and bits of brain matter, but at this point you’re past being squeamish.

“Got it.”

“Good. Now—you’re going to take the shot.”

You nearly drop the rifle. “What?”

“You heard me. I need you to neutralize the sniper while I relocate. He’s focused on my last position, doesn’t expect you to be armed with anything more than a handgun. Won’t see it coming.”

“Jeon, I’m not—I don’t have sniper training—”

“You have training. Different training, but the fundamentals apply. Breathe, sunshine. Trust me.”

His voice is steady, confident. Like there’s no question in his mind that you can do this.

Okay. Okay.

You grip the rifle properly, checking that the safety’s off. It’s heavier than you expected, built for stopping power at distance.

“Sight picture first,” Jeon continues, voice patient and sure. “Look through the scope, find the crane platform.”

You bring the rifle up, awkward at first until you find a comfortable position. The scope’s magnification makes everything swim into sharp detail.

“I see it.”

“Northwest corner. Look for movement, reflected light, anything that doesn’t belong.”

You scan the platform methodically, the way Flower taught you to observe targets during intelligence gathering.

There—a glint of metal catching the pre-dawn light.

Definitely artificial. Definitely a weapon.

“Got something. Metallic reflection, northwest side like you said.”

“Perfect. Now listen carefully—you need to adjust for distance and elevation. See that shipping container directly below the crane?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s your reference point. Target’s approximately three meters above that container, maybe fifteen meters back from the platform edge. You need to account for windage too—there’s a crosswind coming off the water. Adjust two meters to the right.”

Two meters right, three meters up.

You move the crosshairs, trying to apply everything he’s telling you while your heart hammers against your ribs.

“When I say fire, squeeze the trigger smooth and steady. Don’t jerk it, don’t second-guess. Just like target practice, except this target shoots back.”

“Jeon, what if I miss?”

“You won’t.” No hesitation in his voice. Zero doubt. “You’re steady under pressure, sunshine. I’ve seen it. This is just another target.”

Just another target.

Sure. A target that could kill both of you if you fuck this up.

“On my mark,” he continues. “Take a deep breath, let half of it out, hold the rest. Find your natural respiratory pause and squeeze through it.”

You do exactly what he says.

Deep breath in. Half out. Hold.

The crosshairs settle on where you think the sniper should be, accounting for all the adjustments Jeon gave you.

“Three…” His voice is calm, steady. “Two…”

Don’t think. Just shoot.

“One. Fire.”

You squeeze.

The rifle kicks against your shoulder, and through the scope you watch the sniper’s body jerk backward before crumpling behind the crane platform.

Got him.

A satisfied hum crackles through your earpiece, low and pleased.

“That’s my girl.”

Something hot and violent flutters in your stomach at the words before you can stop it. You squash that feeling down hard, focus on the mission, but jesus—the way he said it.

Like he’s proud of you.

“Moving to your position now,” Jeon’s voice continues, all business again. “Stay put until I—”

“Negative.” You’re already shifting, scanning the pier below. “I’m dropping down. We need to get to that ship.”

“Sunshine, wait—”

But you’re already moving, slinging the rifle over your shoulder and dropping to the edge of the container.

The jump down to ground level isn’t bad—maybe six feet—and you land in a crouch, absorbing the impact through your legs.

Sea level now. The smell of salt water and diesel fuel hits you immediately, stronger down here where the waves slap against the pier supports.

You straighten up, checking your surroundings.

Empty shipping containers stretch in both directions, creating a maze of steel and shadow. The ship’s probably fifty meters ahead, past the next row of—

An arm snakes around your throat from behind.

Fuck.

Pure instinct kicks in. You bite down hard on the bicep pressed against your neck, tasting blood and sweat and something chemical—antiseptic, maybe. Medical supplies.

The arm jerks away with a sharp curse, and you spin around to face—

Fervio.

How the fuck is he still standing?

The last time you saw this asshole, V was turning him into modern art.

He should be unconscious. Should be dead.

But here he is, very much alive and apparently ready for round two.

Blood seeps through his jacket where V’s knives found their mark. His face is a mess of cuts and bruises, one eye swollen nearly shut. But his remaining eye burns with something that makes your skin crawl.

Hunger.

“Hello again, little dove,” he says, voice rough like gravel.

He lunges forward, faster than someone that injured should be able to move. You dodge left, but his hand catches your shoulder, spinning you around.

The rifle slides off your back and clatters across the concrete.

Shit.

You go for the knife at your hip, but Fervio’s already there, his hand closing over yours with crushing force.

“How the fuck are you still standing?” you grunt, trying to wrench free.

He laughs, and the sound makes your stomach turn. “You don’t know what adrenaline injections can do, do you? Black market pharmaceuticals are fascinating these days.”

Great. A psycho hopped up on experimental stimulants.

His grip tightens until you feel bones grinding together. You twist your body, use the momentum to drive your knee toward his ribs, but he shifts at the last second.

Your knee hits solid muscle instead of wounded flesh.

He uses your off-balance moment to grab the rifle and heave it across the pier. It skitters under a shipping container, completely out of reach.

“No, no,” he tsks, still holding your wrist. “That would be too quick. Too easy.”

Sadistic fuck.

He pulls a knife from somewhere—not the curved one from before, this one’s smaller, sharper. Built for precision cuts, not killing blows.

Torture.

You wrench your arm free and stumble backward, putting distance between you and that blade. Your hand finds the backup knife, fingers closing around the handle.

“Come now,” Fervio says, advancing slowly. “I promise to make this educational.”

The way he says it makes your skin crawl. Like he’s planning to take his time. Like he’s got all night to work.

Fuck that.

You feint left, then dart right, trying to get behind him. But he’s ready for it, pivoting to match your movement.

The knife flashes toward your ribs. You block with your forearm, feel the blade slice through fabric and skin, but it’s not deep.

Keep moving.

You circle each other, looking for openings. He’s bigger, stronger, probably more experienced with close combat.

But you’re faster. And you’re pissed.

You dart in low, aiming for his wounded side where V’s knife work left him vulnerable. Your blade finds flesh, slides between ribs.

Fervio grunts but doesn’t go down. Just grins wider, like pain is exactly what he was hoping for.

Psycho.

His knife arcs toward your face. You duck, feel steel whistle past your ear, and drive your elbow up into his chin.

His head snaps back, but he recovers faster than he should. Grabs your wrist and twists until your knife drops.

Then his blade is moving again, too fast to track, and suddenly there’s fire in your thigh.

You look down and see steel buried deep in muscle, blood already soaking through your pants.

Motherfucker.

Pain explodes through your thigh, white-hot and immediate.

You scream—can’t help it—as steel bites deep into muscle. But the sound cuts off when Fervio’s hand clamps over your mouth, muffling everything into a pathetic whimper.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Blood seeps around the blade, warm and sticky, soaking through your tactical pants. The knife’s still embedded, and every movement, as tiny as it is, sends fresh waves of agony radiating up your leg.

“Shh, shh,” Fervio whispers against your ear, voice sickeningly gentle. “Save your energy, little dove. We’re just getting started.”

You try to elbow him in the ribs, aim for one of V’s wounds, but he anticipates it. Shifts his weight and suddenly you’re spinning, your back slamming against his chest.

No no no—

His arm snakes around your ribs, pinning your arms to your sides. The other hand moves to your throat, fingers pressing just hard enough to remind you how easily he could crush your windpipe.

You’re trapped. Completely fucking trapped.

“Much better,” he purrs, and you can feel his smile against your temple. “Now we can have a proper conversation.”

He tilts his head toward the maze of shipping containers, voice rising to carry across the pier.

“Jeon!” he calls out, theatrical and mocking. “Come out and play with the grownups!”

Silence. Just the slap of waves against pylons and the distant hum of ship engines.

Your eyes scan the shadows frantically, looking for any sign of movement. Any hint that Jeon’s positioning himself for a shot.

Come on. Where is he?

Fervio waits maybe ten seconds before clearing his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest against your back.

“No? Nothing?” He chuckles, low and pleased. “How disappointing.”

Then his hand moves to the knife buried in your thigh.

“No, don’t—”

But he’s already gripping the handle, and when he yanks it free, the scream that rips from your throat echoes across the entire pier.

Jesus fucking Christ—

Blood gushes from the wound, soaking your leg, dripping onto the concrete in steady plink plink plink sounds that make your stomach lurch. The pain is incredible—like someone’s driving a hot poker through your muscle with every heartbeat.

“Jeon!” Fervio calls again, voice bright with satisfaction. “Come out now, or the next thing that’ll gush blood apart from her thigh is her throat. Hands visible and up.”

Please. Please just shoot this motherfucker.

But even as you think it, you know Jeon can’t take the shot.

Not with Fervio using you as a human shield.

Not when one wrong move means your blood painting the pier.

Movement in your peripheral vision. A shadow detaching itself from behind a shipping container.

Jeon.

He emerges with his hands raised, jaw clenched so tight you can see the muscle jumping in his cheek. His eyes find yours immediately, and what you see there makes your chest tight.

Fury.

Pure, cold, calculating rage barely held in check.

“There he is,” Fervio purrs against your ear, sounding delighted. “The famous sniper. The ghost of Seoul. The man who never misses.”

Jeon’s gaze flicks to the knife in Fervio’s hand, then to the blood pooling beneath your feet. His nostrils flare.

“Let her go,” he says, voice flat and deadly calm. “Your issue’s with me.”

“Oh, but she’s so much more fun,” Fervio replies, pressing the blade against your throat. Not cutting—not yet—but the threat’s crystal clear. “The gun. Drop it.”

Jeon doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.

The knife presses harder. You feel the sharp edge bite into skin, feel blood start to trickle down your neck in warm rivulets.

Shit. He’s actually cutting—

“Do it slowly,” Fervio continues when Jeon hesitates, dragging the blade sideways just enough to open a shallow cut. “Any sudden movements and… well. You understand.”

Jesus Christ that hurts.

You bite back a whimper, focusing on staying perfectly still. Any movement could drive that blade deeper, turn a shallow cut into something permanent.

Jeon’s eyes meet yours for just a second. You see the calculation there—the tactical assessment running through his head at light speed.

But also something else.

Panic.

He crouches slowly, placing his gun on the concrete carefully.

“Kick it away.”

Jeon complies, sending the weapon skittering across the pier until it disappears under a shipping container with a metallic clang.

“Good boy,” Fervio grins, and you can hear the satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Now. Where’s your psychotic little boyfriend? V didn’t come to our reunion party?”

“He’s busy,” Jeon says, voice still that deadly flat. “Keeping your boyfriend Kaleido company.”

Fervio laughs—actually laughs—like this is the funniest thing he’s heard all night.

“Aw, but I was so looking forward to seeing him again. I wanted him to watch when I take one of his precious dolls.” His grip on your throat tightens slightly, fingers digging into your pulse points. “Just like he did to me in Venice. You remember that, don’t you, Jeon? Or were you too busy playing hero from your little perch?”

Venice.

Something passes between them—some shared history you’re not privy to. But the way Jeon’s face goes completely blank, like a mask slamming down, tells you it’s not good.

“That was different,” Jeon says quietly. Too quietly.

“Was it?” Fervio’s voice turns mocking, theatrical. “Seemed pretty similar to me. V taking something I cared about. Making me watch while he—”

“She was a target,” Jeon cuts him off, words sharp as glass. “A legitimate military target.”

“She was mine.”

Fervio’s voice goes ice cold, all pretense of amusement dropping away like a discarded mask. The blade presses harder against your throat—you feel more blood start to flow.

“And he made sure I knew exactly what he was doing when he slit her throat. Made it slow. Made it artistic. Made me watch every. Single. Second.”

Oh.

The picture’s starting to come together now.

Some girl in Venice, years ago. Someone Fervio cared about—loved, maybe? if he’s capable of love on the first place. Someone V killed while Fervio watched.

And now he wants payback.

Fantastic.

“So here we are,” Fervio continues, voice returning to that sick tone. “Full circle. Except this time, I’m the one holding the blade.”

The knife moves against your throat—not cutting deeper, but promising. A preview of what’s coming.

“And when I get back to that sweet little princess on my ship, I’m going to take my time. Hours and hours. She’s going to learn every technique I’ve perfected over the years. Every way the human body can experience exquisite agony before it finally shatters.”

Your blood turns to ice. Because he’s not just talking about cutting or stabbing.

He’s talking about torture. Real, prolonged, sadistic torture.

“I’m going to make her scream until her voice gives out. Then I’ll wait for it to come back, just so I can make her scream again. And when I’m finally done playing, when there’s nothing left of that pretty little mind except fear and pain…”

He leans closer, breath hot against your ear.

“…I’m gonna send what’s left of her back to V in a pretty pink bow.”

The image he’s painting makes your stomach turn to acid.

Yunjin—sweet, bubbly Yunjin who makes cotton candy seem sophisticated—in the hands of this s̶a̶d̶i̶s̶t̶i̶c̶ monster.

No. No no no.

“But enough about future plans,” Fervio continues, voice shifting back to that mock-reasonable tone. “Let’s discuss present arrangements. I’m willing to make a deal.”

Jeon’s eyes narrow. “What kind of deal?”

“Simple. I leave with my little pink princess, and in exchange…” The knife presses just a fraction deeper against your throat. “I give you my word that this beauty here won’t be hunted down by my team. Clean slate. Fresh start.”

You feel Jeon’s entire body go rigid at the suggestion. Even from here, you can see his hands clenching into fists.

“Your word?” Jeon’s voice is flat, dangerous. “You think I’d—”

“Ah ah ah.” Fervio cuts him off with a tsk. “We both know words hold no value in our line of work. Which is why I’m prepared to make this… official.”

He shifts slightly behind you, and you hear the soft clink of metal against metal.

What the fuck—

“Personal binding coins,” Fervio explains, like he’s discussing dinner plans instead of human trafficking. “You know how it works. I give mine, you give yours. Physical proof of the contract. Break it, and both our organizations know exactly who can’t be trusted.”

Oh shit.

Personal binding coins are serious business in the underworld.

Not like the neutral coins used for transactions—these are about honor, about binding agreements between high-ranking operatives. When someone gives you their personal coin, it’s their word made tangible. Break that agreement, and your reputation is d̶e̶s̶t̶r̶o̶y̶e̶d̶ gone.

And Fervio knows Jeon has one. All Council of 9 members do.

You watch Jeon’s face go through a series of micro-expressions—calculation, fury, disgust. His jaw works silently, like he’s biting back words that would probably get you killed.

“You sick fuck,” he finally says, voice low and deadly. “I don’t bargain with—”

HOOOOOONK.

The ship’s horn blares across the pier, deep and resonant and perfectly timed to mask the sound of—

CRACK.

Jeon staggers forward, red blooming across his shoulder like a flower. His eyes go wide—not with pain, but with pure shock.

He got shot.

Someone fucking shot him.

Everything slows down.

You watch the impact ripple through his body, see his knees buckle slightly as his brain processes what just happened. Blood seeps through the black thermal fabric, spreading outward in a pattern that looks almost artistic if you ignore the fact that it’s Jeon’s blood.

The man who never gets caught off guard.

Who always has a plan.

Who sees everything coming from a mile away.

Just got shot in the fucking back.

Fervio doesn’t waste the opportunity.

His arms release you suddenly, and then you’re flying through the air, thrown like a rag doll straight at Jeon’s chest.

You collide hard—ribs against ribs, shoulder against wounded shoulder. Jeon grunts in pain but catches you anyway, his good arm wrapping around your waist to keep you both upright.

“Move!”

His voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding despite the blood loss. His hand clamps around your wrist like a vice, and suddenly you’re being dragged, stumbling, behind the nearest shipping container.

You hear Fervio’s laughter echoing across the pier, already fading as he makes his escape.

“Yunjin!” you scream, trying to wrench free from Jeon’s grip. “They’re leaving! They’re fucking leaving with—”

“Sit the fuck down.” His voice is ice cold, furious, as he forces you down behind the container wall.

His good hand presses against your shoulder, pinning you in place.

“You’re bleeding, I’m bleeding, and we are unarmed,” he continues through gritted teeth, breathing hard. “Sit. Down.”

His head tilts back against the steel, face pale but eyes still sharp.

Blood seeps steadily from the wound where the bullet tore through muscle and sinew, staining his thermal top crimson.

But he’s not letting go of your wrist.

Can’t. Can’t just sit here.

“Let me go.” Your voice cracks on the words, panic making everything feel razor-sharp. “Let me fucking go!”

You try to push yourself up, try to get to your feet, but Jeon’s hand clamps down on your wrist.

“They got Yunjin—”

“Do you think I don’t fucking know that?” The words explode out of him, voice cracking like a whip.

His eyes snap open, and jesus—you’ve never seen him look like this.

Wound tight enough to snap, fury and something that looks like despair warring across his features.

“Then why are we still here?” Your voice rises to match his. “We need to—!”

“We need to what?” He turns toward you, and there’s blood smeared across his mouth where he bit his tongue. “Run onto that ship unarmed? Let them cut us both down?”

“We can’t just sit here!”

“Yes, we fucking can!”

“She’s my best friend!” The words tear out of your throat, and you don’t care that you’re screaming, don’t care that your voice is cracking. “She’s my—”

“You think I don’t want to go after her?” His voice drops to something quieter but no less vicious. “You think I don’t want to tear that ship apart board by board until I find her?”

His breathing’s gone harsh and uneven, like he’s fighting for air.

“Then why—”

“Because I fucking considered it!”

The words explode between you like a grenade, sharp and devastating.

What.

Your mouth falls open.

You stare at him, at the self-loathing written across every line of his face.

“For a fucking second,” he continues, voice breaking on every word, “I considered it. Considered trading your fucking life for Yunjin’s.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your tongue feels completely, utterly, absolutely useless inside your mouth.

“When he offered that deal—when he wanted to trade my coin for his—” Jeon’s head falls back against the container with a dull thunk. “For one second, I thought about it. Weighed the options. One life versus another.”

You can’t breathe. Can’t think past the rushing in your ears.

“And that makes me no better than him,” he whispers, staring up at the gray pre-dawn sky. “No better than the piece of shit who just walked away with her.”

Jesus christ.

He actually considered it. Actually stood there and considered your life was worth more than Yunjin’s.

Part of you wants to hit him. Wants to scream until your voice gives out.

But a bigger part—the part that knows him, knows how his brain works—understands exactly why that thought would destroy him.

Because Jeon doesn’t make emotional decisions.

He weighs variables and chooses the most tactically sound option, and the fact that he even considered sacrificing Yunjin means—

Means you matter to him.

More than just professionally. More than just as a team member or a responsibility.

“Jeon,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t.” His voice is flat again, empty. “Just—don’t.”

The sound of the engines gets lost in the distance.

Yunjin is gone. The microchip isn’t secured. The mission has been a catastrophic disaster.

And you’re both sitting here bleeding onto concrete, having the worst possible revelation at the worst possible time.

if you've enjoyed this chapter please consider buying me a coffee!! ☕️ ♡´∀｀♡

next | index

— taglist

@mikrooms @xcallmetaniax @lilbitcherries @bangpink3gen @indyuhhhhh @sadiayn @elinaki92 @jimineepaboya @odetomeringue @yooniepot @jeonmaleficent @jksusawife @kimyishin @silverozy @svnk1ssd @idontsayblehblehbleh2010 @endlesssolace @army7-013 @yeahimacapricorn @6rnde @mimi1097 @whothefuckisthishoe @akirawhore @cherryreadsfics @sassyshyt @nemelkawar @dreamersparacosm @tremblementdesfleurs @bonzoirparis @vialattea00 @kookie96 @coletaehyung @unbibiased @sexyevilkitten @maralodiaal @my0hmary @butterymin @quhrtz @lachlaniah @jhopeloverrr @medicinemybish @jjkszn @makulimlim @onyxthornseer @amajikisupremacy @omgstahpp-blog @drwonderbread @angelhyuka @mikrokookiex @ot7girl4l @mar-lo-pap @rossy1080

© jungkoode 2025 | dividers and banner by shadowkoo

There’s no vision accompanying the sound, only the bleakness of the back of your eyelids, and yet it’s so vivid you swear he’s beside you in bed. 

He’s singing to you in a language you don’t recognize, although if you have to guess you’ll say it hails from somewhere in Asia. The syllables and phrases sound undeniably old as though no one has spoken it in the last couple hundred years. It’s beautiful regardless of its origin or age, and the mysterious lyrics paired with the serene melody lull you into an even deeper slumber. 

You gasp awake the following morning, almost shocked you’re still in your own bed after listening to the alluring song all night. Even without picturing anything like a normal dream, the music alone seemed to transport you to a different realm of imagination. 

Shaking your head to and fro to bring yourself back to the real world, you regretfully leave the warmth of your bed so you can ready yourself for the day. 

As you brush your teeth while staring down your reflection, you wonder how your mind managed to conjure up such a gorgeous serenade. Perhaps you heard something similar while watching tv or it was playing in the background of a cafe or store. Whatever the answer may be, you don’t consider it much after spitting your toothpaste out and hoping in the shower. 

Until you fall asleep again that night and the song returns only moments after shutting your eyes. 

Two weeks go by of you hearing the same recurring melody in your head, and that’s when you deem it weird enough to head to the library for an answer. 

You start with physical books, figuring if the song is as old as you think, your chances of finding it there will be better than with a computer. Scouring through encyclopedias and textbooks galore, you spend the first half of the morning with your nose between dusty, old pages. Which does, in fact, yield some results once you compare your haphazard chicken scratch of the lyrics to a foreign language book and find that the words are similar to Korean. Armed with your new discovery, you return to the twenty-first century by researching the history and past variations of the language on your laptop. 

It turns out Hangul has gone through multiple different iterations across the centuries, and each one seems closer than the last, but the written history of the language ends before you find an exact match. Further confusing you because you must have heard it somewhere if it’s appearing in your dreams, but the more you search, the less you find. 

The day ends with Shazam, YouTube, and plain ole Google to find the song or even the singer, but none of the applications recognize the tune and you begin thinking you created both the ballad and its owner out of thin air, which shouldn’t be possible. 

When the sun sets and you’ve yet to leave the library or consume anything besides iced coffee, your roommate comes to rescue you. 

Emily, who happens to also be your best friend, walks into the large building like a woman on a mission. The fire in her eyes immediately tells you she means business and is going to stop you whether you want to or not.

“Em —“

“Girl,” she interrupts you. “I haven’t seen you all day, where have you been?”

“Here,” you answer like it’s obvious. 

She rolls her eyes while occupying the seat across from you.

“Is this about that song?” You nod sheepishly and let your head fall into the open book on the table. “I honestly don’t get why it’s bothering you so much. Dreams are weird! What else is new?”

“You don’t understand,” you groan. “It isn’t just a dream. I feel like someone is beside me singing directly into my ear. And how do you explain it being in a language I don’t speak and the voice of someone I don’t know?”

Emily shrugs before standing up and extending her hand out.

“Let’s just call it a mystery of the universe and go about our day, yeah?” Albeit reluctantly, you take her hand so she can pull you up. “It’s Friday night! We’ve got partying to do.”

You chuckle at her lack of priorities, but follow her to the doom room to get dolled up anyway.

Partying, clubbing, and drinking aren’t necessarily your favorite activities, but you adore spending time with your best friend and she always makes nights out enjoyable for you. It isn’t the activities themselves you don’t prefer, but the company that comes with the territory. 

It’s a secret only you, Emily, and God knows that you’re still a virgin despite being in your early twenties and an active socialite. 

The decision to remain celibate all these years is one you made all your own and isn’t for lack of options. You’re waiting for the right person to give your body to and it certainly isn’t going to be one of these grubby college guys who constantly try getting with you. You aren’t ashamed of your choice to wait, but going out can be difficult when everyone assumes you’re there to find a sexual partner for the evening. 

Emily acts as your first line of defense in those scenarios. Either by pretending to be your girlfriend or simply scaring them away, she makes it so you can have fun without being bothered by members of the opposite sex trying to bring you home. 

Although, sometimes you don’t mind the attention as long as you’re able to maintain your firm boundaries. Like tonight, when a handsome fellow student offers to buy you a drink and fervently agrees with you when you make it clear you won’t be coming home with him. Sure, men love to lie, but Emily gives you an assured look from across the bar telling you she’s got your back. So, you take his hand and allow him to lead you to the dance floor. 

You dance together through a few shitty songs the DJ very poorly mixes together, but you have a good time regardless of the random beat drops. His hands remain in a conservative position on your hips while you sway side to side and enjoy the feeling of his chest pressing on your back. 

There’s a brief lull between songs and you feel a cool breath on your neck right as the music becomes quiet enough.

“Y/N.”

Hearing your name makes your brow scrunch and you glance back over your shoulder. 

“How do you know my name?”

“Huh?” Your dance partner leans in towards you. “I didn’t say your name.”

Right on que, there’s another whisper.

“Y/N.”

The syllables have a slight musicality to them, as if the person is singing your name, and that’s when you recognize the voice.  

Shock and confusion forces you out of the stranger’s embrace. He reaches for you while asking what’s wrong, but you shake your head and weave through the crowd of bodies to quickly escape the dance floor. 

Once you’re free from the congestion, you frantically look around before pushing open the squeaky bathroom door and locking it behind you. Gripping the sink until your knuckles turn white, you inhale and exhale while counting each breath that moves through your lungs. 

It’s one thing to hear a mysterious voice in your dreams, it’s another entirely for him to visit you while you’re conscious. A dream you can rationalize away; this you cannot. 

After taking a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing heartbeat, you leave the bathroom to find your best friend. She’s still at the bar talking to a girl who’s precisely her type and you feel guilty about stealing her away, but you have to get out of here.  

“Em!” 

Her eyes momentarily search for the source of her name before landing on you. She enthusiastically waves until noticing your distraught expression and immediately jumps into protector mode.

“What’s wrong?” 

Her lady friend’s face distorts, but Emily pacifies her with a wave of her hand conveying you aren’t a threat in that regard.

“I’m… um… just ready to go, if that’s alright?” 

Fear and anxiety are evident in your features and Emily doesn’t hesitate to take your hand after apologizing to her companion. The two of you exit in a hurry, the chilly autumn air encompassing you and helping to clear your head as you walk home together.

“Did that guy do something to you?” You shake your head. “Then what’s going on, babe?”

“He said my name.”

“Who?”

“Him.”

“You mean —”

“Yes!”

Emily shakes her head back and forth like she’s trying to use the action to make sense of everything.

“Well, it must be because you’re drunk.”

“I had one drink,” you correct her.

Her mouth snaps shut when your response silences any possible retort waiting on her tongue. It’s obvious how scared you are and in order to avoid being dismissive, she stops applying logic to the strange situation and decides to just be there for you as best she can.

Once you’re home and getting ready for bed, you exclusively think of your allusive dream man saying your name tonight. The syllables and vowels rolling off his tongue were as beautiful as his song despite having no melody. It initially terrified you, but now there’s a piece of you craving to hear it again.

It’s still a mystery whether he’s real or merely a figment of your imagination, but he certainly feels like more than just a voice in your head.

A feeling which is validated when things change that night. As soon as dreamland whisks you away, the familiar song filters into your subconscious, but then the darkness begins moving the same as fog creeping in at dusk. The smokey presence encircles you like a pair of arms holding you tight and even the volume of his voice gets louder as though he’s kissing the shell of your ear. 

It sends shivers down your spine while goosebumps form on your skin, yet the reaction isn’t out of fear. In fact, you wish you could open your eyes to meet the owner of the ghostly limbs. 

His presence is all-encompassing and so intense it feels like there’s a physical weight pressing down on your chest. The new element to your recurring dream solidifies to you that there’s no way you're making this all up. He feels too real, too much, to be something conjured up by your own mind. 

You wake up with a shuddering gasp while clutching your head in both hands after spending the entire night being sung to and surrounded by him. None of this should be possible and yet you’re certain about what you experienced. 

Emily isn’t awake, so you spend a moment in bed calming your racing, worrisome thoughts before heading to the bathroom in hopes of washing all your convoluted emotions down the drain. 

Nighttime continues just the same for a couple more weeks, but you don’t do any research about the new development. You know when you inevitably find nothing it will only cause more stress, so you let the dreams continue without any real answers while hoping he’ll go away on his own.

You and Emily have a plan to spend a night out on the town with a couple friends tonight. It’s pretty standard to head to a bar or house party every weekend, but midterms just ended so all of campus will be out celebrating. It’s the first time you’ll be going out since the night you heard his voice and it would be a lie to say you aren’t nervous it’ll happen again. Alas, you’re only young once and you refuse to miss out on the action because of your fear of the unknown. 

There are empty cans and wine glasses, makeup tools, and clothes strewn all around your room as you prepare for the evening. Emily and two of your mutual friends who live across the hall are each occupying a corner as you all simultaneously do your hair, makeup, and choose your outfits. Emily and Hannah are deciding between two dresses while you’re applying mascara to your lashes. Shelby is still curling her hair and also happens to be preoccupied with arguing with her long distance boyfriend on the phone. 

“I do not envy that,” Emily notes while standing behind you and checking her ensemble in the mirror. 

“Nope, not even a little bit,” you concur.

Hannah joins you both to fix her lipstick that unfortunately smeared all over her teeth.

“I don’t know, maybe fighting every now and then is worth it to have consistent dick in your life,” she comments.

You roll your eyes.

“Having someone to fuck should be the cherry on top, not the reason you date them.”

Hannah and Emily make eye contact with knowing expressions. 

“You’re such a romantic, Y/N,” Hannah states.

Shrugging in response to her comment, you drop your mascara tube and stand to get dressed. 

“Maybe so, but I know what I want and am willing to wait for it,” you reply.

Emily smiles and squeezes your shoulders in support.

“As you should, babe.”

The four of you eventually finish dolling yourselves up and head towards the club everyone will be at tonight. It’s a different establishment than the bar you went to last time, but is in the same general area downtown. 

Upon arriving you immediately notice the place is packed beyond belief. Even though you expected it to be busy, the hordes of people definitely don’t ease your anxiety and you automatically grab Emily’s hand to bring her to the bar for your first round of drinks. 

The goal is to let loose following your exams and you aren’t going to let your worries about this mystery man dictate your actions, especially when you aren’t even certain he exists. If he wants to have another one sided conversation with you, so be it. 

With that in mind, you spend the first half of the evening drinking and chatting with men around the bar. The only issue is you can’t bring yourself to step onto the dance floor. Every time you do, something in your brain puts a complete halt on the movement and your companion eventually leaves to find a different dance partner. You don’t hear his voice or feel his presence, but there seems to be a mental block preventing you from engaging with anyone else.

You’re currently on caller number five, who’s a handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus a couple times. He’s ordering you another drink with his arm resting on the bar stool behind you and by now you’re drunk enough not to be too nervous, but you end up feeling stone cold sober when an icy chill crawls up your neck. 

There’s no rhyme or reason why you move so instantaneously, but without another thought you’re pushing your chair back to find the exit. Skirting past all the warm bodies occupying the already tight space, you finally reach the door and nod at the bouncer before stepping past him into the night.

As soon as the cool air nips at you, your teeth start chattering as you shiver from the harsh breeze. You wrap your arms around your torso while stepping away from the club to lean against the building. Inhaling the fresh air around you seems to calm your mind and you’re thankful for whatever force led you outside, whether your own brain or something else. 

While taking a moment just to breathe, you absentmindedly gaze out across the street. When you do, your eyes land on a man with quite possibly the most striking set of features you’ve ever seen.

Even though he’s a couple yards away across the pavement, you can see his raven hair and large, matching eyes as well as his pink lips, round nose, and sharp jaw. He effortlessly takes your breath away and you’re positive you’ve never seen him before because you’d remember a face like his. Yet the longer you stare, the more you swear you know him from somewhere. His aura is so familiar you can taste it on the tip of your tongue and despite the distance, you can feel intense energy radiating from him where you stand. 

Your reaction must amuse him because his lips quirk up in a smirk before he turns on his heel to leave in the opposite direction. 

Once he’s out of sight, you quietly gasp to replace the missing oxygen from your lungs. Never in your life have you experienced such a charged encounter and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was a dream. 

The illustrious meeting frazzles you too much to return to your previous endeavor, so you message your friends and hail a cab to take you home. 

You remove your makeup and change into your pajamas in a flash, for the first time actually wishing to fall asleep and return to your nighttime companion. The different occurrences tonight were just so bizarre that the familiarity of your dream man’s song and touch are a comfort to you in comparison.

Although he does greet you soon after shutting your eyes, it isn’t how you expect; not the way he has for the last month or so. 

Tonight, the presence which usually encases you like strong arms, has fingers that caress you throughout your slumber. The shadowy digits dance along your arms and shoulders as his tender voice fills your mind with song. You didn’t know it was possible for him to feel any closer or more intense, but as he maps your entire outline by slowly tracing your every curve, there seems to be no space between you at all. 

It should terrify you more than any of the past instances have, but his presence is so mundane now that it almost feels natural for him to be touching you. 

After the intimate night with your faceless visitor, you don’t wake up having to catch your breath or clutch your chest as you often do. Instead, a content sigh leaves your lips as you take time stretching your limbs in bed.

“Who’s Jeongguk?” 

Your head whips towards the sound of your roommate’s voice.

“Huh?”

“It sounds like a name. You were saying it in your sleep,” Emily explains.

“I was?”

Talking in your sleep isn’t something you’ve ever been known to do. 

Emily nods to answer your question while getting out of bed to head to the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

You’ve never heard that name before so you don’t understand why it would be slipping from your lips in the night, but aside from the obvious connection, your mind simply knows whose name it is as though it's written in your internal code.

Assuming he’ll follow the normal pattern, you predict a couple more weeks of him gently exploring your body before he’ll up the ante, but that’s not the case. When you fall asleep following a lazy Sunday spent studying and watching movies with Emily, he changes his approach again. As always, the dream starts with his sanguine, melodic voice. His magnetic presence follows soon after and just like the night prior, it’s no longer just a shadowy weight surrounding you, but the tender touch of darkness. 

Unlike last night, his fingertips don’t begin their excursion at your shoulders and collarbones. No, his featherlight touch lands on the supple skin of your inner thighs.

His prowess initially shocks you, but as the ghost-like caress continues along the sensitive area bordering your core, you slowly succumb to the pleasant feeling. 

He touches you just the same for a while, as though it’s the first time he’s feeling someone’s warm skin. His hands move along your thighs and hips at a snail’s pace, never going higher than your ribs other than when he ever-so-slightly skims the underside of your breasts. It’s only after one of his slow descents down your stomach and abdomen that he ends the hypnotic pattern by placing his hand on your pussy. 

Your breath hitches and even in your sleep you’re aware of the soft moan that escapes. He doesn’t move at first, allowing you to acquiesce to the weight of his hand on your most private and exposed area. Then, as your consciousness whirls with anticipation, he tentatively stretches his fingers until he’s able to part your folds and circle your hole.

To no one’s surprise, you’re already soaking wet with feminine essence that he swirls around your lips with his digits. 

It simultaneously feels heavenly and sinful, but most of all surreal because you don’t understand how this is happening or even if it is. This could still just be a mirage of your mind after all, but somewhere deep within, you don’t believe it is; it simply can’t be.

He ceaselessly plays with your pussy the entire night, but his fingertips never actually sink into your sex, causing you to wake up in the morning already yearning for more. You’ve never been touched by someone else and you didn’t expect it to feel so amazing. Even though his fingers were merely a presence and not physically there, it was the most sexually pleasurable experience of your life so far.

You don’t tell Emily about the new occurrence as you normally would. Truthfully, you’re too ashamed of how much you enjoyed it to utter the truth out loud. Here you are, a proud virgin waiting for the right partner, who then surrenders to the phantom touch of someone who only exists in dreamland. 

Emily notices the shift in your behavior regardless of you mentioning anything, but she gives you space to sort through your emotions and waits patiently for you to come to her rather than prying the information out of you. Therefore, she’s the one who picks up on you slowly descending into madness the longer this goes on.

Night after night he returns to you, always touching you in different, mesmerizing ways without ever penetrating you. Instead, he’ll massage your breasts all night by alternating between squeezing them and tweaking your nipples until they’re so hard they hurt in the morning or running his hands up and down your inner thighs while brushing your core every so often to tease you. It’s pure torture and yet you can’t get enough. You start going to sleep earlier, waking up later, and eventually, even begin napping midday just to feel him again. 

By the time he finally uses his long fingers to fuck you, it’s been close to two months since you initially heard his voice in your head and you’ve been going insane for at least half that time. 

It happens on a frigid winter night while you’re cocooned in a pile of blankets. Emily’s at home this weekend for a family gathering, so you’re all alone in your dorm room. You wonder if he knows and that’s why he decides to enhance your relationship, if you can even call what you have anything so formal. 

Perhaps you’re just genuinely crazy and your lack of sexual encounters finally broke your mental state enough to create a fictional partner who spends the night with you. There’s no strength left within you to care either way; you’re too addicted to him, real or not, to rationalize or stop the dreams.

He’s touching you leisurely tonight, steadily inching his fingers up your waist before cupping your breasts in his large hands and giving them a generous squeeze. You’re used to the sensation and gladly welcome it as quiet, content sighs leave your parted lips. But the sound morphs into a sharp intake of air when he tries something different and you have to clutch the sheets in response. 

All of the sudden, a warm mouth is touching your chest and the pure shock caused by his actions almost startles you awake. Your visitor kisses across the fatty flesh of your left breast before moving to the right as his hands descend to your hips. It feels immaculate and you desperately wish you could touch him in return while he pleasures you. 

His lips wrap around your pebbled nipple and tug on the sensitive skin, making you moan exuberantly in your sleep. You believe that’s all he’s going to do, but then his fingers sneak into your wet folds so he can move your juices around and lubricate your cunt. He must be satisfied with how soaked you already are, because he switches to rubbing tight circles over your clit. It feels so intense you believe you’re going to burst, but he relieves the pressure by moving away from your pearl and parting your lips with his fingers. 

He’s still sucking on your tits while exploring the pussy he’s no doubt memorized and the dual sensations are mind numbing, but nothing could prepare you for the way your ecstasy peaks when he sinks two fingers into your hole. 

You scream as your back arches off the bed and you swear you can hear satisfaction in his voice as he continues singing to you. 

He begins by fucking you slow and deep, obviously enjoying the tightness of your untouched cunt around his fingers. It takes time for you to adjust to the foreign feeling, so you appreciate his initially timid approach. His andante pace doesn’t last for long, though, and another wail rips from your throat when he scrapes your nipple with his teeth while forcing his digits farther up into your pussy. 

Tears never once stop rolling down your cheeks throughout the entire encounter, but they’re all from the pleasure and relief of finally feeling him touch you where you need him the most. You’ve been craving this for so long and it’s even better than you imagined, so much so that you secretly hope your alarm never goes off so he can keep fucking you and slobbering all over your chest. 

It only takes a few minutes for you to have your first orgasm caused by someone else and it’s the single most exquisite experience of your life. The euphoria is so extreme it leaves you sobbing into your pillow as your body shakes and convulses. Your cunt pulses around his phantom fingers throughout the high and the sensation must do something to him, too, because his song stops abruptly. 

“Good girl, Y/N.”

His speaking voice paralyzes your mind to the point you don’t realize his fingers and lips are retreating. Besides him serenading you, you’ve only heard him say your name before, but his timbre is just as beautiful without a melody accompanying it. 

“Jeongguk.”

You barely recognize your weak voice and using the unfamiliar name is purely instinctual.

“That is right, my little mortal.”

His reply is your final moment together before you gasp awake and find yourself drenched in a cold sweat. Throwing the blankets off your shaking limbs, you sit on the edge of your bed to catch your breath. When you glance down, you see a large wet spot on your pajama bottoms that’s without a doubt a consequence of the orgasm he gave you. 

The room feels like it’s spinning and you can’t get a single thought straight, but one word manages to stand out amongst the kaleidoscope.

Mortal.

Despite leaving Emily in the dark for the last month or so, you practically word vomit an update to her when she walks through the door later that day. 

“He’s not human?”

“Yes, and it’s the answer I’ve been looking for. He can do what he does because he’s not human!”

“And you know this because…”

You may have excluded some key details when explaining your recent discovery, like him touching you and making you come last night.

“Well, he called me ‘his little mortal’ last night,” you confess.

Emily blinks in shock a couple times.

“He what?” She shakes her head in pure disbelief. “I’m sorry, I thought he only sang to you. He’s speaking to you now?” You nod. “Girl, human or not, you need to talk to someone about this. I mean, he’s basically a stalker.”

“Em, who the fuck is going to believe that someone’s been singing and talking to me in my sleep?”

You purposely don’t mention that you enjoy his presence in your life, stalker or not.

“Fair. Do you at least have an idea of what type of non-human he is?” 

“Not a clue. Monster lore has gotten pretty mixed up over the years and dream walking can be traced back to pretty much any of them,” you explain.

Emily sighs and sits beside you on your bed.

“I’m sorry you’re going through this, babe,” she tells you.

“You really believe me, just like that?”

“Of course I do,” she states. “I’ve seen what it’s done to you first hand. You’re antsy, talk in your sleep, constantly have your head in the clouds. You haven’t been yourself for a while now.”

Sighing in relief that you’re not alone, you rest your head on her shoulder while she reciprocates by wrapping an arm around you.  

Even with your massive break in the case, it doesn’t change anything, and your mystery monster continues to pleasure you with his hands every time you close your eyes. Which happens often because every touch just makes you more infatuated with him and within a couple weeks, you’re sleeping between every class and waking up as late as possible to spend as much time in his arms as possible. 

You’re aware how unhealthy the relationship is and yet something about it makes you feel fulfilled, rejuvenated, and whole. All you know is the sound of his voice and the weight of his presence, but he makes you feel things no other man ever has. 

As if you being asleep half the time isn’t enough for him, his ghostly embrace finds you wide awake in the library one night. To be fair, it’s finals season and you couldn’t spare any time for a nap between studying and running across campus for class. Perhaps he’s just as needy for you as you are for him and his only option is to greet you outside of your normal schedule. 

The book you’re reading falls right out of your hands and onto the floor when you first feel his fingers brushing your nape. You wonder if you fell asleep studying, but when you pinch your arm to check, the mild sting answers for you. Once you realize this is happening while you’re fully conscious and in public, you survey the area for any students or staff, but no one’s in sight. The library will be closing soon, so it makes sense you’re alone in the large building. 

His fingertips travel from your neck down the front of your torso as you relish in the sensation. Your head falls backwards, mouth drops open, and legs instinctively spread apart as if to make room for him, despite knowing he isn’t actually there. He descends like honey dripping from a spoon, but you embrace the feeling of him languidly tracing your curves before finally reaching your center. 

You're disappointed when his touch ceases entirely and a small whine leaves your throat in response, but he pacifies you quickly. Except when he returns to you, it isn’t the feeling of his hand on your core, but his lips. 

A shuddering moan breaches the air as his tongue repeatedly moves through your pussy from bottom to top. He licks you up and down like he’s afraid he’ll miss a spot and your nails reactively bite into the leather chair. You’ve never felt someone’s mouth on you and the sensation is otherworldly. Unlike him fingering you which you could compare to your own hand, feeling him kiss and lick your cunt is completely unrivaled by anything else. 

Releasing one arm of the chair to cover your mouth, you loudly moan and whimper as he continues eating you out. He works ravenously to drink up the essence pouring out of you and before you know it, you’re crying hot tears of pleasure.  

You want nothing more than to touch him in return or at least lace your fingers in his hair while his tongue plunges into your hole. Without anything else to hold onto, your free hand nearly rips the chair because of the intense pressure in your abdomen and thighs.  

It doesn’t take long for an orgasm to build in your gut because of his ministrations, but even when you come on his tongue with a sharp cry, he keeps lapping up your cum like water. He only stops his torment when you sob out the syllables of his name once the overstimulation becomes too much. 

His presence vanishes just as soon as he appeared and you're left panting and sweating in your cum soaked underwear just as the closing announcement for the library rings overhead. 

Frantically collecting your possessions, you practically run home with a half-zipped book bag and your headphones still around your neck. Upon reaching your dorm, you slam the door behind you and attempt to return your heartbeat to a normal cadence by remaining against the wood. 

You’re unsure what about tonight terrified you so much, but for whatever reason, you decide it’s time to fight back against your mystery monster. His incessant actions are changing you, etching away at your morals, and you refuse to lose your virginity to a mere ghost or something far worse. 

They say the best method of getting over someone is to get under someone else, so you ask Emily to go out with you tonight for the sole purpose of finding someone to fool around with. She’s rightfully hesitant and surprised by your sudden change of heart, but you assure her this is what you want and you leave campus together a couple hours later. 

The plan isn’t to sleep with someone, but you at least want to feel the touch of another person so you can forget the bond you’ve formed with your nightly visitor. 

It’s quite possibly the easiest mission ever to locate a relatively sober man to take you out back, and when you find someone you deem cute enough, you instruct him to follow you before taking his hand. 

You lead him into the alley beside the bar and immediately grab onto his jacket for a searing kiss up against the cold brick wall. He seamlessly matches your enthusiasm by holding you flush to his chest and slipping his tongue into your mouth. After making out for a minute or so, you feel his hand sneaking towards your belt and brace yourself, but before he can even undo your buckle, you realize you heavily underestimated how ready you are for this and push him off of you.

“Sorry, changed my mind,” you state while moving out of his embrace. 

A hand on the wall stops you from going any further and you glance back in confusion.

“I don’t think so, kitten,” he sneers.

Your face contorts in disgust at the pet name, but then you’re yelping as he tugs you back and cages you in with both arms. He cuts off any avenue of calling for help by kissing you again and your only choice is to try kicking him since he’s holding your arms up on either side of your head. But your attempts are unsuccessful once he uses his hips to pin you down and hold you still.

Fear courses through your veins like blood and you can feel tears pricking at your eyes. When he readjusts his grip so one of his hands is free while still securing you against the bricks, an unequivocal dread overtakes you.

Except nothing else happens. You see a flash of color behind his head and the next thing you know, his grasp is gone and he’s tumbling to the ground. For a poignant moment you just stare at his limp body beside your feet, but then reality creeps in and you lift your head.

“Humans should really stop touching what is not theirs.”

Before you is the man you saw a couple months ago and without any hesitation, you start screaming your head off.

The stranger’s eyes go wide for a split second before his expression shifts to one of annoyance, as if you being terrified of him killing someone is an inconvenience to him. His head tilts and he clicks his tongue before stepping forward to silence you by clasping his hand over your mouth. 

His actions certainly don’t help the terror in your belly, and you continue yelling even though  the sound is muffled.

“Shh,” he whispers. He’s merely centimeters away and you can feel his breath on your earlobe. “He is not dead, just unconscious.”

His voice is so recognizable you could pick him out of a blind line up and once you realize who’s standing in front of you, you cease your screaming and aggressively whine as a means of begging him to let go.

The pathetic sound must appease him because he chuckles while stepping back so you’re eye-to-eye.

“I know, I know. I am excited to finally be face to face as well.” His other hand rises to push some stray hair out of your eyes. “Are you going to be my good girl and stay quiet for me?” 

You nod while maintaining eye contact and he removes his hand in response. 

“You’re… him,” you pant.

“Him?”

It takes a second for the oxygen to return to your lungs so you can reply.

“Jeongguk. That’s your name, right?”

He smiles in obvious satisfaction and although it’s dark, you can see inhumanely sharp canines among the rest of his teeth. 

“Yes, my darling,” he answers you. 

The moment feels too surreal to comprehend and you’re unsure whether meeting him makes you happy or even more petrified. 

“Why me?”

Jeongguk’s eyebrow quirks up upon hearing your question, but he nods in understanding after a second and offers you his hand. 

“Come with me and I will explain everything.”

You wish it took you a while to discern the consequences and outcomes of leaving with him, but you take his hand almost instantaneously and follow him out of the alley without any further questions.

Jeongguk’s been alive for a long time, to the point he doesn’t necessarily remember the exact amount of years. He knows he’s the youngest of his coven since their leader is the one who turned him into a vampire, but as century after century goes by, his memories fade more and more. 

What he does recall is that being a human is boring and he heavily prefers being a vampire. The abilities, lifestyle, and overall allure of his position in the world brings him far more satisfaction than his previous human life. As a vampire, he can spend all of eternity drinking blood, having sex, and enjoying life stuck in his late twenties. It’s quite the advantage for him to look as he does; his handsome, youthful features providing everything he needs to quench his thirst to feed and fuck. The vampiric gifts bestowed on him to bring mortals into his clutches aren’t even necessary half the time.

Even so, he doesn’t shy away from using them, especially his singing voice that can lure anyone to him with a single line. 

Jeongguk can speak multiple languages after having plenty of centuries to learn some, but he still chooses to sing in his native tongue, albeit an older version of the language that’s since died off. Whenever he wishes to connect with a human, whether to drink their blood or use their body for his pleasure, all he has to do is sing an old Korean lullaby or ballad until they appear beside him. He could always coerce them to his side, a power shared by all vampires, but he prefers his company to join him of their own volition.

He’s never wanted a human for more than one night, unlike some of his brothers who have used their abilities to obtain a mate. 

It’s incomparable to human mates, who fall in love, get married, and have children. A vampire mate is more or less an easy way of getting food and/or laid whenever one pleases. There’s a ritual which can be done to make said human immortal, although not a vampire, allowing the vampire to feed off the human’s blood without killing them. Most vampires still hunt for their meals and reserve their mates for sexual purposes only rather than a food source, but plenty of his kind use them for both. 

Not everyone in his coven has a mate, but it’s seen as a goal for vampires to acquire one. Jeongguk doesn’t have any interest in it, perfectly content having his pick of the litter when it comes to mortals. Why settle for one when you can have as many as you like?

That all changes the moment he lays eyes on you. 

He never understood why his brothers and so many other vampires would take on a mate when there’s millions of humans to choose from, but when he sees you for the first time, he finally gets it. 

You’re sitting on a bench at the university Jeongguk often peruses to find his meals. The sun’s only just gone down, hence why Jeongguk can walk around freely, but even in the moonlight he can see how beautiful you are. At first, he figures he’ll just have a fun night by bringing you into his bed, but then the wind blows and he inhales your alluring scent for the first time. 

Jeongguk can smell your innocence from a mile away, the dark red, rich, virgin blood pumping through your veins nearly causing him to lose his mind. Adult virgins are a rare find nowadays, especially one as undeniably gorgeous as you. 

A mortal must be a virgin for the mating ritual to occur, making it harder for vampires to locate potential mates as human society becomes more sexually liberal as time goes on. 

Alas, here you are, the most perfect little mortal he’s ever seen. 

You’re merely reading with your legs crossed and your hair up in a bun, but having your jugular on full display for Jeongguk to see while you’re clueless to his nearby presence has his mouth watering. 

It’s worrisome just how badly he wants you, both your blood and body, but he knows he has to wait. If he’s going to make you his mate, you have to want him just as much. He won't be able to utilize his normal tricks to attract you to him, he has to seduce you. 

He skips dinner altogether to hurry home and ask his coven for advice. When he enters the massive, abandoned mansion they’ve been living in for the past few decades, he bounds down the steps a couple at a time until he finds his brothers in the large living room.

“Hyungs,” he calls out to them. 

Six heads turn towards the sound of his voice and a couple of them gesture for him to join them. 

“Why do you look so clean? Were you not going out to feed?” Seokjin, the oldest of his coven, asks.

Jeongguk waves his question off as he comes to stand in front of them on the couch.

“I found a virgin,” he states. 

All of their eyes widen in both surprise and delight.

“An adult virgin?” Jimin asks.

“Yes.”

“In this day and age?” Yoongi comments.

“And?” Hoseok probes him further.

Jeongguk’s eyes roll into his skull as he imagines you all alone on that bench. 

“She is the most stunning mortal I have come across in centuries,” Jeongguk explains. 

“You finally settling down, then?” Namjoon asks with an eager grin.

“I do not believe I have a choice,” he admits with a smile of his own. “Will you help me?”

Despite not being the eldest, Namjoon is considered their leader and since he’s the one who turned Jeongguk, they have an especially close bond. 

“Help you how?” Taehyung questions. “All you have to do is fill her womb with your seed.”

Jeongguk grimaces at the comment even though that’s precisely what he wishes to do to you. 

“She has to ask me for it,” he replies. 

Taehyung’s eyebrows rise at his response since Jeongguk’s usually the most sexually pervasive of them all, but he understands the sentiment.

“It is simple. You use your gift,” Yoongi answers. 

All vampires have a specific power besides their normal abilities which they can use to attract humans to them. Jeongguk’s is obviously his siren voice, while his brothers have various other ones. 

“I am aware, but I have only used it for single encounters and I will not be able to convince her after just one meeting.”

“You could dream walk,” Namjoon suggests. “It would give you enough time to slowly lure her in.”

“It will be hard, though. You have to resist going too fast or you will risk scaring her,” Seokjin states. “Mortals are able to seal their subconscious minds from us if they so wish. Then you will be left with no choice but to use coercion."

Jeongguk scratches his nape and nods his head as he processes their advice. It seems like his best option, but he’s never done it before, so he’ll need to practice before attempting it on you. 

“Go get something to eat,” Jimin instructs while patting him on the shoulder on his way out. 

His brothers concur with the final suggestion and Jeongguk can’t help but agree given that vampire powers work best following a meal. 

So, he ventures out again to the same campus where he found you. It’s the weekend meaning he has plenty of young blood to choose from as students mosey about from party to party. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the taste of blood tainted with alcohol, but they’re the easiest population to subdue and coerce into forgetting the encounter. 

Before finding his prey for the evening, he returns to the bench to pick up your scent and hopefully find where you live. It’s easy enough when yours sticks out so much amongst the rest, taking him no time at all to locate your dorm room. 

The light is still on, so even though you’re on the third floor, he can see you sitting in bed watching something on your laptop. Luckily, you have artwork on your wall spelling out your name or else he doesn’t know how he would learn it. He whispers the moniker under his breath a couple times, practicing how to roll the syllables off his tongue. 

Even though your hair is down and it unfortunately conceals part of your face, Jeongguk is just as enamored with you as he was a few hours ago. You look so gentle, warm, and soft and he wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into your neck while his cock is buried deep in your pussy.

No one’s ever had you like that, which means you’ll be entirely, solely his and in that moment he swears to do anything and everything to ensure that happens. 

Jeongguk reluctantly leaves after watching you for a while longer and continues on his mission to feed from a couple drunk college kids. 

Upon returning home, he swaps his bloody clothes for clean ones before immediately heading to the expansive library they’ve built up over many years, courtesy of none other than Namjoon. He spends the night studying both ancient and new vampire texts that explain dream walking in graphic detail so he’s fully prepared to accomplish it with you. 

The following night he returns to practice on some unsuspecting students. He isn’t able to see their initial reactions in the morning, but once the sun goes down, he studies the humans and thankfully, all of them tell their friends about hearing a mysterious singer in their heads the night prior, so Jeongguk considers it a success.

He waits one more night so he can feed again beforehand and as soon as the moon rises, he finds himself outside your window. Dream walking is possible from afar, but at least for now, he wants to be nearby. Besides, he can’t help but crave seeing you whenever he’s able.

You take a while to fall asleep, but Jeongguk is patient and passes the time by admiring you as you complete your nighttime routine and change into comfier clothes before slipping beneath the covers. Once your eyes close, he focuses on propelling his voice into your mind as he did with the other students. He doesn’t have to actually sing to serenade you in your dreams, but he’s still technically singing in his head, so his emotions and inflections will reach you regardless. 

There’s no obvious reaction on your face to show him his powers are working and it’s not as though he can stay until the morning to see you wake up. He believes he was successful, though, because when he comes back the next night, you’re dramatically explaining the occurrence to your roommate. 

All your mannerisms, including your pretty voice and animated expressions, utterly captivate Jeongguk as he watches from outside and for the first time, he doesn’t mind the idea of spending eternity with a single soul. 

He serenades you night after night for a couple weeks so he can gain confidence in his abilities before advancing to something more difficult. It’s important he has a good handle on the technique and he also wants to avoid moving too fast for your sake. Although, that plan doesn’t last long when he follows you out to the bars one night. 

You and your friend, who he learns is Emily, are walking hand-in-hand towards downtown while Jeongguk trails behind a fair distance away since he can still see and hear you easily. He’s honestly surprised you’re going out at all, since you’re obviously not the type to have casual sex, but he definitely doesn’t mind seeing you in a skin tight outfit. 

Despite remaining outside while you enjoy your night, he still smells you from across the street. Meaning he can tell when you end up standing too close to another human inside the bar. 

It’s evident that alcohol is gradually mixing with your blood, but the scent isn’t potent enough for you to be drunk. He despises the idea of you willingly interacting with someone else, but he’s also aware that he’s helpless to stop you. So there you are, borderline sober and dancing with a human man while Jeongguk’s blood boils underneath his skin. 

Even though you don’t know it yet, you're his, and these mortals better keep their hands off you before Jeongguk loses his goddamn mind. 

In an act of desperation to separate you two, he decides to try speaking to you while you’re conscious. He knows it’s doable when in close proximity to someone, but still much harder than dream walking. Usually the person has to be inebriated, fatigued, or easily susceptible to persuasion and you barely fall into one of those categories. 

Regardless of the possible hurdles, Jeongguk completely focuses on you using his mind to communicate with you. He figures keeping it simple will best accomplish his goal, so he merely utters your name in his head. 

The sound must reach you, because your scent spikes with anxiety and confusion. He repeats your name, singing it this time so you know it’s him calling out to you and the plan works flawlessly. Within a single moment he smells you hurrying away from the man off to a secluded area far from anyone else’s scent. 

He feels slightly guilty upon hearing your heart beating erratically because of him, but the knowledge that it’s only a matter of time until you’ll be happily welcoming the sound of his voice soothes him. 

You leave soon after with your friend trailing close behind and Jeongguk waits while you walk far enough ahead of him before following you home. Once he sees you arrive safely back at your dorm room, he admires you from the shadows as you remove your makeup and let your hair down, every mundane movement of yours holding his full attention. 

When you fall asleep, Jeongguk plans on continuing his previous endeavor of singing to you, but then he remembers the sick feeling in his gut when he knew you were in someone else’s arms. His jealousy and anger boils over until he has no choice but to change tactics. For the second time tonight, he attempts something new by sending not only his voice to you, but his presence. Vampires are able to use everything but their physical being to communicate with humans from afar, so he imagines his arms wrapping around you. 

He watches as you shiver in your sleep and goosebumps appear on your arms, telling him everything he needs to know about the success of his abilities. 

Satisfaction swirls inside of him as he holds you in his arms for the first time, albeit only subconsciously. He can’t sense any distress from you either, meaning everything is going according to plan.

Once he’s certain the connection will hold no matter the distance, he heads home to convey his accomplishment to his brothers. 

Jeongguk doesn’t watch you sleep anymore since it’s easier to concentrate while relaxing in his own bed, but he still stands outside your window while you get ready or stay up late studying. 

That’s how he knows you’re going out again a couple weeks later. 

The usually quiet dorm room is suddenly full of laughter and music as you, your roommate, and two unrecognizable women prepare to head out later in the evening. 

You look undeniably exquisite as you sit in front of a mirror applying your makeup and curling your hair. The sight nearly makes Jeongguk forgo his entire plan and take you right there, but he knows patience is the key to winning you over. 

Just as he did before, he follows you and your friends along the winding streets leading to downtown. You seem nervous in comparison to last time and he wonders if it’s because of him and his previous actions. Even if that is the case, he has to push through until you’re comfortable and needy for him or he’ll never succeed in taking you as his mate. 

He can tell you’re anxious immediately upon your arrival, but you self-soothe by drinking as soon as you step inside. Jeongguk grimaces at the smell of alcohol tainting your delicious blood and the night only goes further south when you remain close to multiple different men throughout the night. 

The scent of their dirty blood standing near yours makes him want to be sick. His only solace is that you never spend much time with them, jumping from person to person every thirty minutes or so. Jeongguk is beyond curious why you’re behaving in such a manner, but he vehemently hopes it’s because he’s in the back of your mind. 

He believes his theory might actually be correct when your scent spikes with adrenaline and your heartbeat grows closer. His whole body goes taught in fear of ruining things by seeing you face to face, but before he can hide, you’re pushing the glass door open and resting against the brick wall outside. 

All of his senses dial to ten as he stares at you shivering in the cold. There’s a split second where he thinks he can make a run for it, but then you gradually lift your head in his direction. When your eyes land on him, they widen dramatically and your breath hitches. He knows it’s impossible for you to recognize him, but there’s a glimmer in your eyes telling him you have a hunch as to who he is. The idea makes him smirk as he appreciates you shamelessly ogling him, but he doesn’t remain there to enjoy your expression for much longer.

Disappointment is evident in your scent as Jeongguk walks away down the sidewalk and it fills him with pride. Seeing you up close and more importantly, your reaction to seeing him, is the exact amount of fuel he needs to keep your relationship moving forward. Truthfully, he simply can’t wait any longer to finally touch you. 

Once you fall into a deep sleep that night, he imagines his hands caressing you, taking his sweet time feeling you for the first time by tracing your outline over and over again throughout your slumber. 

His more intimate presence comes with the consequence of you being able to learn more about him in return. It’s a natural evolution of your bond growing stronger and the more intense your nightly routine becomes, the more of a two-way street the dream walk will be. Jeongguk isn’t sure how much your subconscious mind will absorb, but he hopes you’re able to sense something about him other than his phantom embrace.

It kills him that you’re both alone in your respective beds rather than tangled up in his sheets together, but despite the sensations not being as fervent as they will be in person, he’s pacified by the feeling of your soft, supple skin beneath his fingertips.

Jeongguk wishes the simple touch satiated him, but when you wake up in the morning and the connection severs, he realizes it isn't nearly enough. He just wants more, more, and more of you and although he originally planned to continue with his steady timeline, he can’t help himself from escalating things again the following night. 

It'll be more difficult to accomplish, so as soon as night falls, he finds himself a couple humans to feed from before returning home to his bed. When he senses that you're asleep through your mental connection, he closes his eyes while picturing himself touching you.  

His fingers meet your warm thighs and his mind goes completely haywire. Even through the dream walk you feel like absolute heaven to touch and it takes all of his willpower not to rush things. Knowing the wait will be worth it, he spends an ample amount of time moving his hands up and down your waist, hips, and thighs. 

Once he grows too impatient, he finally rests his hand over your core after descending from your abdomen. He desperately wishes to see your reaction or smell your scent changing because of the arousal, but for now he’ll just keep imagining it. After waiting a moment for you to relax, he uses his fingers to part your folds so he can feel your pussy for the first time.

The sheer wetness and warmth of your cunt has his eyes rolling back as he bites his lip to refrain from moaning aloud. All he’s doing is moving his digits up and down your slit and yet his cock is straining against his pants. You feel unbelievable and exactly as he always knew you would, even without pushing his fingers inside of you. 

He continue to play with you by spreading your essence around all night. He wants to do more; so much more, but he knows now is the most crucial time to move at a snails pace, so you acclimate to his touch to the point it’s the only thing you want and need. 

When the morning comes, the first thing he does is pull his hard dick out of his pants to relieve the pressure that’s been building all night. Once he’s more confident in his abilities, he’ll be able to masturbate as he feels you up, but until then he’ll have to do so afterwards. In all honesty, his dream is to watch you jerk him off; to see your small hand wrapped around his cock as you pump him as fast as your humanity allows.

Jeongguk hasn’t masturbated in a long time, since he could easily find someone to fuck prior to meeting you, but now you occupy every single thought in his head and he can’t comprehend wanting to be with someone else when he has you. 

Short, staccato grunts leave his mouth as he eagerly moves his hand up and down his cock, using the precum pooling on his tip to lubricate himself. He moans with his head buried in the pillows as an orgasm builds in his abdomen and before he can even fully enjoy the friction of his hand around his dick, he’s coming all over himself with a whine that sounds like your name. 

It isn’t the last time he jacks off while waiting for you to return to him and as he continues to tease you by fondling your erogenous zones every night, you start sleeping even more. 

You go to bed earlier, wake up later, and Jeongguk notices you begin napping the longer your ghostly affair goes on. It fills him with pride and satisfaction that he has you right where he wants you. It’s obvious you’re becoming just addicted to him as he is to you and he knows it’s only a matter of time before you can be together. 

After about a month of touching you everywhere but within the walls of your cunt, Jeongguk decides it’s time to take your relationship to the next level. 

He makes himself comfortable outside your window to watch, something he hasn’t done in quite some time, because there’s nothing he wants more than to see your reaction when he sinks his fingers deep inside you. 

To his surprise and delight, he finds you alone in your room, meaning you’ll have no reason to hold back for the sake of waking someone else up. 

Jeongguk’s eyes remain on your pretty face as he begins his nightly ritual. He’s sitting just below your window, in a hidden area that still gives him the perfect line of sight into your bedroom. It’s wintertime, so no one should be outside to catch him, but he still doesn’t want to risk being visible.

He waits until you’re fast asleep before shifting his shadowy presence from that of his hands to his mouth by kissing across one of your breasts. From his position outside he can see and hear your breath catch in your throat and it encourages him to continue relentlessly. He kisses and licks your chest, eventually latching onto one of your nipples and sucking on the sensitive skin. While his mouth is busy, one of his ghost-like hands descends to your core so he can play with your pussy to his heart's content. 

He doesn’t tease you for long because he’s honestly dying to feel you, so upon deeming you wet enough, he pushes two of his fingers into your cunt to penetrate you for the first time. 

Your tight, virgin hole sucks his digits into its warmth without him having to do any work, creating a feeling far better than his imagination could ever produce. The soaking wet, pulsing pussy wrapped around him drives him absolutely insane. Accompanied by the vision of you crying out and arching off the bed when he starts fucking you with his fingers, he feels so unbelievably satisfied the emotion seeps into his nightly song. 

His eyes observe your every expression as he pleasures you in your dream and before long he joins in by palming himself. He’s rock hard and throbbing beneath the fabric of his jeans and if he wasn’t outside, he’d pull his cock out to get himself off alongside you. 

It doesn’t take long for your climax to ramp up. Jeongguk can tell from both your body language and the way your pussy grips his fingers like a vice. He speeds up the pace of his own hand over his bulge so he can come with you and soon enough you both feel an unbelievably intense release from your individual orgasms. 

Jeongguk uses his free hand to cover his mouth as he grunts, his hot cum soaking his underwear and revealing a wet patch on his denim. Meanwhile, your whole body is shaking as pleasurable tears roll down your cheeks and Jeongguk is beyond delighted at the sight of you writhing in ecstasy because of him.

Without thinking, he speaks both aloud and to your subconscious. 

“Good girl, Y/N.”

He notices your eyebrows furrowing, but then you surprise him in return by replying.

“Jeongguk.”

His jaw goes slack at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. He wasn’t even aware you knew his name, but the bond you share must’ve provided you with that information at some point. 

You knowing who he is fills him with such pride and accomplishment that he happily responds to your call.

“That is right, my little mortal.”

Jeongguk continues making you come night after night for a couple more weeks and you seem to want it just as badly as him, seeing as you go to sleep almost every two hours like clockwork. 

He certainly doesn’t mind fucking you with his hand or pleasuring your tits multiple times a day, especially because that’s his ideal cadence for when you become his mate. The issue is he grows comfortable with the routine, and when you break it one day by staying awake, he gets irrationally antsy. 

After tracking your scent from your dorm room, he finds you in the library about thirty minutes before closing. You look to be studying, but Jeongguk can see your droopy eyes and slumped shoulders caused by exhaustion. 

Since he’s been without you all day, he decides to use his proximity and your fatigue to his advantage by sending his presence to you while you’re awake.

The very second his hands graze your neck, you sigh in relief while your head lulls back, and as he continue down your torso, you spread your legs apart as though he’s actually there. Your innate reaction makes him chuckle. His claws are in you so deep and your obvious want for me makes him up the ante of your relationship yet again.

Rather than using his hands to pleasure you, he imagines himself licking a long stripe up your entire cunt before circling his tongue over your hole. He relentlessly eats you out, kissing and sucking on your wet pussy like a man starved. It’s not the same as it will be once he truly gets his hands on you, but that’ll be soon enough. 

You taste fucking delicious and if it weren’t for you coming on his tongue in practically no time at all, he would go on for hours. 

He doesn’t stop even as he’s swallowing your cum and you’re covering your mouth to suppress your loud, whimpering moans, but then he hears you crying his name and he removes his presence from your mind to grant you relief. 

His eyes lock onto you afterwards, eager to see your reaction to his ministrations. Except when he peers into the window of the library again, you don’t look remotely happy and he can hear your blood pumping erratically in your veins. He watches you gather your things and rush out of the building towards your dorm and once you’re there, you press yourself against the door with your eyes shut while slowly inhaling and exhaling. 

Did he scare you? It’s been months of him meeting you in your sleep and you’ve never once reacted like this. 

It could be because you were awake or maybe using his mouth on you was too much. He vehemently hopes that isn’t the case and proceeds to follow you for the remainder of the night to ensure he didn’t ruin his carefully laid plans.

Unfortunately for him, your out of character behavior continues. 

You seem to ask your friend to go out again and Jeongguk is forced to watch as you doll yourself up and head out with her to a bar or club where you’ll no doubt be interacting with human men. He follows you as always until you enter the establishment and he’s left outside to sense your movements rather than see them. 

Although, you appear before him again far sooner than he expects by leaving hand-in-hand with some random man. 

Jeongguk’s anxiety sky rockets as he observes you leading the man into an alley where you pull him in for a kiss. His nerves morph into pure, unadulterated anger, his hands practically shaking with fury as he stares at the scene before him of you making out with someone else. 

Here he ate you out, most likely giving you one of your best orgasms to date, and you have the audacity to kiss some human a few hours later? 

His emotions are about to get the better of him when he sees you push the man away and side step out of his embrace, instantly relieving his agony. The satisfaction is short-lived, though, because a moment later you’re being yanked back and pinned against the wall. The man kisses you again, obviously against your will, as you struggle helplessly to get him off you. 

Jeongguk automatically sees red and within a split second he’s using his vampire speed to reach you so he can hit the man’s pressure point and knock him out cold. 

He watches in disgust as the grimy creature falls to the ground with a pathetic thump.

“Humans should really stop touching what is not theirs,” he sneers.

When he glances towards you to check that you’re alright, you shock him by screaming bloody murder as soon as your eyes meet. 

Your adverse reaction instantly frustrates him, as if he didn’t just save you from this punk. Regardless of his own feelings, he knows you’re only human and that adrenaline is likely running the show in lieu of logic, so he simply clicks his tongue before muffling your noises with his hand. 

When you still attempt to scream even with him covering over your mouth, he steps forward to whisper in your ear.

“Shh. He is not dead, just unconscious.”

Jeongguk feels your entire body tense with realization and soon enough your cry for help turns into a pleading whimper, making him chuckle pridefully because of your quick recognition of his voice.

“I know, I know.” He steps back to see your pretty face. “I am excited to finally be face to face as well.” His voice seems to calm you and Jeongguk reactively brushes some hair out of your eyes. “Are you going to be my good girl and stay quiet for me?” 

When you nod your head in response to his question, he drops his hand and gives you space to catch your breath.

“You’re… him.”

It’s the first time he’s hearing your voice up close and it has every neuron in his brain firing off.

“Him?”

“Jeongguk. That’s your name, right?”

He could hear you say his name over and over for hours and not grow tired of it.

“Yes, my darling.”

He’s wearing a saccharine smile because he simply can’t contain his happiness any longer. You’re finally right here in front of him where you truly belong. 

“Why me?” 

Your question gives Jeongguk pause and his eyebrow quirks up in response. It makes sense given the situation, but for him the answer is so obvious he doesn’t know how to properly verbalize it.

Instead of answering, he extends his hand towards you.

“Come with me and I will explain everything.”

Not an ounce of hesitation passes through you before you take his hand and Jeongguk internally celebrates as he leads you away from the alley.

The two of you walk hand-in-hand down winding back roads which run parallel to a large forest. Jeongguk doesn’t speak, but you can tell he’s perfectly content just holding your hand. You admire his handsome profile as you stroll and the feeling of being beside him after so long is both astonishingly surreal and totally natural. It should terrify you; he should terrify you, but you don’t feel anything close to fear.

“What are you?” You ask after a long time of comfortable silence.

Jeongguk smirks at your question before meeting your gaze.

“Would you like to guess?”

His antics make you chuckle. Here he is, some type of creature of the night, playing a guessing game with you. You play along regardless of the absurdity of the situation by tapping your chin with your free hand.

When you glance at him again, you allow your eyes to trace his features before answering him assuredly.

“Vampire.”

He smiles and it’s confirmation enough when you see his sharp fangs peaking out. 

“Am I so obvious?”

“No,” you reply. “Just a hunch.”

Jeongguk stops abruptly and you follow suit, waiting patiently by his side for him to speak again.

“Are you scared, darling?”

“No.”

Your instantaneous response makes him smile again.

“Why not?”

It’s hard to explain given that you don’t truly understand your own emotions about the matter. 

“I’m not sure to be honest. At this point, you’re just so familiar to me that I feel comfortable with you.” You sigh. “I am afraid of what you might do to me, though.”

Jeongguk’s brow creases as he invades your personal space by stepping closer.

“Do you think I would hurt you, precious?”

His reply makes your eyes roll.

“Well, you are a vampire. You know, the monsters who drink blood. Something I conveniently have plenty of,” you explain sarcastically. 

He laughs while shaking his head back and forth.

“Oh, my little mortal, you truly believe I would spend months familiarizing you with my presence if I was just going to kill you upon meeting one another?” 

You suppose he makes a great point since all his efforts would go to waste if he drank you dry right now. 

“What do you want with me then?”

Jeongguk begins walking again, tugging you along by the hand so you can reach your destination and he can properly explain the answer to your inquiry. 

When you reach a large mansion hidden amongst the tall trees of the forest, you know you’ve arrived without him saying as much. 

Jeongguk leads you up the stone steps before opening the door and chivalrously offering you entry before himself. The home is beyond grand, with beautiful, ornate artwork and decor around every corner. It’s suited for someone as old as Jeongguk presumably is, but you wonder if it’s solely his.

“Do you live here alone?” You ask.

“No, I have a coven.”

He reclaims your hand to guide you down a long corridor left of the entrance.

“How many of you are there?” 

Although you’re asking him question after question, your eyes are busy surveying every inch of the magnificent house.

“I have six older brothers, but there are people who stay here, too,” he explains.

“What… what do you mean?” 

The idea of other humans being here sends shivers down your spine because you aren’t certain whether or not it’s by choice.

Jeongguk smiles while glancing back at you.

“You really are eager to know more, huh?”

Right on cue, he halts you in front of a wooden door. He doesn’t give you a chance to ask any questions before twisting the doorknob, revealing four women lounging on plush sofas and chairs. 

“Hi, Jeongguk!” They cheer in unison.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greets them in return. “This is Y/N, the woman I have been telling you about.”

“Oh my gosh! Hello!” A beautiful blonde woman crosses the room to pull you into a hug. “It is so wonderful to finally meet you.”

You have no clue what the hell is going on, but you return her embrace out of politeness. She releases you to rejoin the others in the center of the room and the three remaining women wave.

“We have heard so much about you, Y/N,” a gorgeous brunette states.

The final two women nod in agreement while smiling graciously at you.

“These are my brother’s mates,” Jeongguk explains.

“Mates?”

Jeongguk nods before continuing.

“Vampires are very social creatures, so not only do we have covens, but many of us take on a human mate to be our lifelong companion.”

The scattered puzzle pieces of information begin clicking into place upon hearing his explanation and your blood runs cold when you realize what all of this means.

Jeongguk must notice you growing uncomfortable because he quickly waves goodbye before shutting the door and turning his attention back to you.

“C’mere, my darling,” he coos while taking your hand. “We can talk in my bedroom.”

Although your nerves are on the fritz and you aren’t sure if you want to hear more, you follow him in the opposite direction until you reach an open door framing a large, grandiose bedroom. 

His room looks a lot like him; mysterious and dark, but full of old artifacts and deep, rich colors. Jeongguk allows you to enter first by gesturing for you to sit on his king bed and joins you once his bedroom door is closed behind him. 

“You… you want me to be like them, is that it?”

Jeongguk’s eyes trace over your features before he responds.

“That is correct.”

You sharply inhale and stand to pace back and forth at the foot of his bed. 

“What would that entail? I mean, how can I be your lifelong companion if you live forever?” 

“There is a ritual that turns you immortal. Not a vampire, but you will be unable to die,” he calmly replies.

His answer only confuses you more.

“What’s the point? Wouldn’t you rather spend eternity with a vampire?” 

“I cannot drink the blood of a fellow vampire.”

A beat of heavy silence passes, and then all of your bodily systems go on red alert and you run straight for the door without another thought, which is silly because Jeongguk is a vampire and moves at quadruple your speed. 

“Y/N. Y/N, hold on.” 

He reaches you before your hand can even graze the doorknob, snagging your waist and turning you around to face him.

“Let go of me!”

“I would never hurt you, YN, I swear,” he assures you.

“Please, I just want to go home,” you beg. Head falling to his shoulder, you grip his shirt in your hands in an act of pure desperation. “Please, Jeongguk.”

His fingers soothingly comb through your hair and despite your best interest, the repetitive motion calms your racing heartbeat.

“I will answer any questions you have, precious. Please do not go.”

While lifting your head to meet his reverent gaze, you take a deep breath in preparation for your next question. 

“Do you love me?”

Jeongguk’s expression momentarily shifts into shock, but he quickly recovers.

“Love is a human emotion. It is not the proper way to describe my feelings for you,” he answers. “They say love is patient and kind, but I am neither of those things. The only reason I waited so long to introduce myself is because I did not want to scare you. Everything I do or have done is for my own selfish motivations.” He sighs and reaches out to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. “But I want you more than I have ever wanted something in my long life and I need you so bad I feel it in a heart that no longer beats. You consume my every thought and are the reason behind my every action, so if that is what you consider love, then I suppose I do.”

His words take your breath away and suddenly every ounce of fear in your body dissipates. 

“You still haven’t told me why I’m the one you want.”

“The ritual only works if the human is a virgin,” Jeongguk answers. 

Something about his response shatters your heart, because this isn’t about you, it’s about you being untouched, pure. Whether or not he loves you doesn’t matter when you’re merely a pawn to him.

You scoff while shaking your head, shoving his hand off of you and turning back to the door.

“I want to go home, Jeongguk.”

A loud sigh comes from behind you and the next thing you know, his strong arms are wrapping around your middle. 

“You misunderstand, my pretty mortal. It is true you have to be a virgin to become my mate, but that is not why I chose you.” He presses a kiss to your nape and you involuntarily close your eyes in content. “I never intended on taking a mate until I saw you and became completely bewitched by your beauty, and later your mannerisms and personality. If you were not a virgin, I would merely turn you into a vampire to make you my companion.”

You wish you had the strength to pull away from him and leave, but everything about him is so addicting that you can’t bring yourself to move.

“What if I don’t want to be immortal?” 

Jeongguk hums in thought while slowly kissing across your neck and shoulder.

“Do you not want to be with me?”

It’s a far too weighted question, but you attempt to answer truthfully anyway.

“I… I do, but it isn’t the same. We wouldn’t be able to grow old together or get married and have children,” you explain your point of view. 

“That is true. I cannot offer you the same life a human male can, but no human can offer you what I can; pleasure you how I can,” he whispers in your ear. 

His statement sends shivers down your spine and causes goosebumps to appear all over you. You have no comparison since you only know his touch, but you can’t imagine someone else ever making you feel how he does.

“I’ve waited my whole life to give my body to someone and always hoped it would only be one person,” you admit. 

“It still can be,” he argues while brushing your hair away from your neck. His lips produce a dark, purple hickey on your skin and your head tips back in euphoria when he scrapes his fangs over the mark. “All you have to do is say the word and you will be all mine. Forever.”

His offer is all too enticing, and you have to rapidly shake your head to dispel your wild thoughts before turning to face him again.

“Why do you need my permission? You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

One side of Jeongguk’s mouth curls up in a smirk. 

“It is true I can make you do whatever I wish with the power of coercion, but I do not want to acquire a mate like that. You have to want it, want me, for yourself.”

“Have you ever used your powers on me?” 

Jeongguk fervently shakes his head.

“Never.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

He chuckles in disbelief. 

“You would know, darling.” You gesture with a wave of your hand for him to further explain. “When a vampire coerces you to do something, you feel it.”

“Show me,” you demand.

Jeongguk pauses as his eyebrows rise, but after a decisive moment he clicks his tongue and sets his sights on you, his brown eyes suddenly piercing and far darker than normal.

“Come.”

A crushing, unbearably heavy thought weighs down on your mind and without thinking or even flinching, your feet carry you to his side. He catches your waist once you’re close enough, but you can only feel his arm around you, not see it, because your brain and other four senses are too overloaded with his voice and intense aura.

When the sensation disappears after a second, you dramatically inhale to collect the air around you. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp.

“See?” Jeongguk asks in a smug voice. “All I did was visit you in your dreams. Nothing more.”

“You ate me out while I was awake,” you correct him.

He smiles while tugging you closer until you’re nose to nose.

“Mm, yes. I just could not resist you a moment longer, my sweet little mortal.” One of his hands possessively cradles your jaw. “Perhaps I can convince you by showing you precisely what your future with me will look like.”

Your lips are only millimeters apart, your breath tangling together in the limited space between you and you want nothing more than to kiss him, but your conscience is still clouded with indecision.

Forcing yourself out of his embrace, you back away to keep a fair distance between you.

“Don’t you kill people?”

Jeongguk scoffs.

“Of course not.”

“Of course not? You’re a vampire, Jeongguk.”

“Darling, blood is a naturally replenishing resource. Why in the world would we kill people and have less of our only food source?”

All the vampire lore you’ve heard, read, or seen feels like a total betrayal when you hear his explanation, which arguably makes perfect sense.

“So then you just take a little bit of blood when you eat?”

Jeongguk sighs before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. 

“It is roughly the same amount as if you were donating blood. Vampires have expert hearing so we know if we are taking too much based on the sound of it in your veins and the beat of your heart. On average, we feed from about two to three humans every couple days to remain fully satisfied,” he tells you.

“But if I were immortal, you could just drink from me without killing me,” you comment.

“Precisely, but many vampires do not exclusively feed from their mate and still hunt on occasion.”

“Why?” 

“Well, you could compare it to eating the same meal for all eternity. Just as you would not want to eat chicken every night, we still enjoy some variety in our diet,” he replies.

You return to his side by sitting on the bed again.

“So not all blood tastes the same?” Jeongguk shakes his head. “What about mine?”

A mischievous smile spreads across his face. 

“I have not tasted yours yet, precious.”

The conversation topic sets your nerves alight as you fiddle with your hands in your lap. This still feels unlike any reality you know of, but Jeongguk, and more important your feelings for him, are more real than anything else.

“Do you want to?”

“I do. You smell absolutely divine, my little mortal.” He reaches out to move your hair away and expose your jugular. His fingers trace along the large vein and even you can feel it pulsing with adrenaline. “I want nothing more than to sink my fangs into your soft, warm skin and drink the perfect blood coursing through your veins.”

Someone talking about consuming you shouldn’t have a positive effect and yet you find yourself rubbing your thighs together to relieve the sexual ache his words cause. 

“Does it hurt?”

Jeongguk leans over to kiss the exact spot his fingers were.

“At first, but it feels good after the initial bite,” he answers honestly, all while continuing to kiss your throat.

You slowly inhale while collecting your racing thoughts. Every inch of your mind is saying something different, some in agreement and some not, but you don’t heed any of the warnings and turn your head to see Jeongguk’s lustful, hungry eyes staring back at you.

It’s been months of a one-sided, ghostly affair, and your need for his physical touch after all this time is so great you can hardly stand it. 

“What was that about convincing me?”

Jeongguk doesn’t even wait a split second before grabbing your face and pulling you in for a damning kiss. 

Par for the course of a vampire, he absolutely devours your mouth while you clutch his shirt between your fingers like a lifeline. His fingertips dig into your cheeks as his lips move in amorous, lewd circles to coax yours apart. Once he’s successful, he shoves his tongue inside and swirls it around so he can taste you. It’s not romantic or sweet as a first kiss probably should be, but you can’t seem to get enough as you press your face as close to his as possible and desperately chase after his lips. 

Besides the sound of your wet mouths repeatedly meeting, all you hear are tandem moans and grunts as you kiss the air right out of each other’s lungs. 

“Please, I have to have you,” Jeongguk begs between kisses.

You automatically grasp his face in both hands and move to straddle his lap, which he assists you with by wrapping an arm around your waist. He falls backwards onto the bed, bringing you with him without ever ceasing the feverish lip lock. On instinct you start grinding in his lap and Jeongguk reacts with a growl as he uses one hand to guide your hips. 

It quickly becomes difficult to catch your breath while you hump the evident tent in his pants and continue kissing him senseless. 

“Show me, Jeongguk. Show me everything,” you whimper. 

Your words seem to light a fire inside of him and he releases your face so both of his hands can push and pull your cunt over his jeans. He stops maiming your lips and travels across your visage one kiss at a time until he reaches your neck, painting your throat with bruises and saliva while you pant in ecstasy. 

“I will only bite you if you want me to, darling. Just say the word.”

Perhaps it’s unfair of him to suggest such a divisive act while your mind is hazy with lust, but deep down you know it’s his absolutely unbridled control over you that causes you to answer without any hesitation.

“Do it.”

Armed with your consent, Jeongguk wastes no time at all before flipping you both over and tugging your hair aside so he can savagely bite into your neck. 

When his fangs pierce your skin, you scream as an overwhelming pain washes over you, but once he starts sucking on your throat and lapping up the blood pouring out of you, the sensation is so pleasurable the sound morphs into a delirious moan. 

It’s sloppy, filthy, and a complete mess as blood seeps from the wound down your neck, chest, and even across your shoulder until it’s soaking the sheets. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to mind one bit and continues drinking from your vein like it's water. 

In a complete betrayal to your own humanity, feeling him consume your very life source is somehow so sensual you find yourself lacing your fingers through his hair to tug on the black strands. He grunts in response and you feel his dick growing rock hard in his jeans, making you so aroused in return that your hips begin to chase his bulge as he feeds from you.

His fangs recedes from your skin when he begins licking his bite mark and the surrounding area to catch spilled blood. He trails his tongue down the river of red liquid on your chest until it disappears beneath your shirt before returning to your lips to kiss you with his blood stained mouth. 

You gasp at the coppery taste of your own blood as it smears across your face and drips onto your tongue when he forces his own between your teeth. Making out with a vampire who’s just finished feeding from you should be disgusting and terrifying, but you’re soaking wet while tangling your tongue with his amongst all the blood. 

“So good, my darling. Your blood tastes so fucking good,” Jeongguk praises. 

He pulls back to admire you and you return the favor. The bottom half of his face is covered in blood and yet he still looks so handsome. It’s in his hair and some of it even got on his ears, but his wild appearance only makes you want him more. His thumb moves the blood around your cheeks and chin before stopping at your lips to push the digit inside. You respond automatically by hollowing your cheeks around him and gazing up with big, innocent eyes. 

“Oh, my little mortal, just like that.” His eyes turn into deep pools of desire as he moves his finger in and out of your mouth. “Fuck, I cannot wait for you to suck my cock.”

You release him from between your lips and quickly catch your breath.

“Then let me,” you unabashedly beg. “Please?”

Jeongguk’s eyes go wide at your request.

“Do you even know how?”

A sly smile appears on your face.

“In theory, but you can teach me, can’t you?” 

In addition to your question, you take the time to lick the blood off each of Jeongguk’s remaining fingers while holding his gaze. His eyes turn into thin slits in response to your teasing and he starts removing his belt before he even answers you. 

“I am not a human, Y/N. I will not go easy on you,” he warns. 

“Good,” you reply unapologetically. “I don’t want you to.”

Jeongguk sinisterly smiles while moving off of you. Once his back meets the wall facing his bed, he calls you to him with his pointer finger. Obeying without a second thought, you rise to stand in front of him with eager anticipation.

“Kneel.” 

He isn’t using coercion and yet you instantaneously follow his demand by dropping to your knees. The plush rug provides some comfort as you await his next instruction, which he seems to be debating on as he combs your hair away from your face. After tucking some stray pieces behind your ear, he traces your jaw with his fingertip before lifting your chin so you’re staring up at him. 

He’s wearing a proud and undeniably erotic expression, his pupils blown wide with his mouth slightly agape. It’s obvious how much he wants you and your own chest fills with pride the longer you’re on your knees for him.

All while maintaining steamy eye contact, he starts unbuttoning his jeans to kick them off. The first thing you notice is a wet spot on the boxers hugging his thick, muscular thighs and it nearly makes you moan.

“Tongue out,” he commands. 

You immediately do as you're told and it satisfies him enough to reward you by removing his underwear as well. When he does, the sight of his hard cock makes a loud, broken gasp come from your open mouth. 

To put it plainly, his dick is huge, both in length and girth. You don’t technically have anything to compare it to, but you can tell what’s big and what isn’t, especially when it’s that big.

“Is that a vampire thing?” You ask after shutting your mouth.

Jeongguk’s head tilts in confusion.

“Are you asking if vampirism has an impact on penis size?” When you nod, Jeongguk laughs out loud and for a moment he doesn’t look like a creature of the night, but the boy next door. “No, precious, it does not.”

“How old are you again?” 

“More than five hundred, less than a thousand,” he responds. “I am not exactly certain anymore.”

You shake your head while admiring his cock twitching right in front of your face. 

“Maybe men were just built different back then,” you wonder.

Jeongguk seems amused by your affectionate rambling, but refocuses your attention by cupping your cheek. 

“Open wide, my sweet mortal.”

You stick your tongue out as he caresses your cheek in admiration of you completely submitting yourself to him. There’s a triumphant smile on his face as he pumps himself before guiding his dick towards your awaiting lips. You attempt to keep your eyes on his face, but the sight of his tip coming closer has you going cross-eyed as your heart hammers in your chest and when the head of his cock presses down on your tongue, his masculine taste sends your eyes rolling back. 

Despite his earlier warning, he’s unexpectedly gentle as he steadily pushes his length deeper into your mouth. 

“Wrap your lips around me,” he quietly instructs. 

You do so while tentatively sucking on his shaft as his tip finds a home in the confines of your throat. He’s so thick that your lips are stretched to the max, but the pressure and ache in your jaw is surprisingly pleasurable. 

When you bat your eyelashes up at him, Jeongguk looks supremely pleased with your actions so far and a groan comes from deep within his chest at the feeling of your warm mouth encompassing him.

“Good girl.”

Humming in response, you keep your eyes on him while experimentally moving your head closer to his pelvis. The more cock you take into your mouth, the louder Jeongguk’s noises become and the hand on your face possessively sinks into your hair so he can hold you right where he wants you. 

“That is right, darling. Just keep moving your head back and forth.” 

You pull back while inhaling before pushing forward again in an attempt to take more of him into your throat. 

Jeongguk grunts and yanks on your hair when you’re successful and he can feel your esophagus constricting around him. His sounds of pleasure encourage you to keep going and you set a steady pace by bobbing your head while continuously sucking on his shaft. It’s easier than you expected, especially with Jeongguk’s hand on your head helping to guide your movements. 

When your nose finally reaches his pubic bone, his head tips back as he growls deep in his throat. 

“Breathe… through… your nose,” he orders across shaky exhales. “While using… your tongue.”

It seems even without any experience you’re still driving him mad and you feel infinitely smug. You take his advice and inhale through your nostrils so you can lick the underside of his cock when you retreat again. Before sinking back down, you swirl your tongue over his head and the taste of his precum makes you moan. 

He responsively gasps and clutches your hair in his fist as your vibrations meet his cock and once you realize it feels good for him, you repeat the noise while his tip is nestled deep in your throat. 

“Holy fuck.” Jeongguk looks down at you in complete awe. “You are doing so well, precious.”

Although his compliments make you want to continue even more, you momentarily release him to breathe deeply and massage your jaw.

“You don’t have to hold back, Jeongguk.”

His eyes widen as his eyebrows rise up his forehead, then a cheshire grin appears. 

“Do you believe I am holding back for your sake?” He bends over while yanking on your hair so you’re forced to look up into his fierce gaze. “I am just getting started, mortal.”

He whispers the moniker like venom rather than his normal, endeared tone, but it lights you up inside far more than the sweet version of the phrase.

Jeongguk uses his grip to return your head to its previous position and before you can properly prepare, his cock is in your mouth again and you’re choking on his head as it settles in your throat. 

“Do not forget to breathe,” he teases.

It’s his final instruction before thrusting forward, causing you to aggressively gag on his dick as he fucks your throat with relentless effort. You desperately clutch his thighs to keep yourself from falling backwards. Once you’re steady, you focus on suctioning your lips around him so his length can seamlessly move in and out of your mouth. 

If you still had any doubts about Jeongguk being a monster, they all fly out the window due to his erotic assault on your throat. 

Truthfully, this moment should have you running for the hills because he clearly cares more about his pleasure than the well being of your esophagus, but after months of him making you see stars, you figure it’s time to return the favor. 

Your nails sink into the meat of his thighs in an effort to hold onto anything you can, including your sanity, but the longer he pushes his cock into your mouth, the easier it becomes and soon enough you begin licking along his shaft during each of his strokes. 

Jeongguk seems grateful for your diligence, if his incoherent moans and grunts are anything to go by. 

“Oh fuck, darling. Your throat is so fucking tight,” he whines.

When you respond with a pleased hum while his tip is tickling the back of your throat, he gasps in ecstasy and scratches your scalp. He picks up the already monstrous pace afterwards and you have no choice but to hold onto his legs for dear life, bringing tears to your eyes while drool drips from the corners of your mouth and down your chin. 

A noise of surprises passes through your swollen lips when Jeongguk’s other hand steals one of your own to cup his balls that are covered in the saliva leaking from your mouth. You peer upwards with wide eyes and he smirks before providing an answer to your silent question.

“Gently.”

Taking his comment into account, you begin softly fondling his balls which you can tell are heavy with the cum you’ll soon be swallowing. Feeling them in your hand is totally foreign and you aren’t sure how well you’re doing, but Jeongguk’s euphoric expression as you play with his sack is encouraging enough. 

You synthesize the movements of your mouth and hand, doing your best to match the cadence of his hips as he repeatedly sends his cock into your throat. While your tongue swirls around his velvet skin and caresses the large veins on his shaft, your fingers continue to massage his balls that are nearly slapping you with each thrust.

“Yes,” he enthusiastically moans as his head hits the wall behind him. “There you go, my darling.”

There’s something so unequivocally sexy about him teaching you how to pleasure him that sets every nerve ending in your body ablaze. Your sore jaw, swollen lips, chin that’s coated in a mixture of spit and dried blood, and cheeks covered in runny, black mascara are all worth it because you’re finally able to be with the man who’s haunted your dreams and consumed all your thoughts for so long. 

“When I tell you…” Jeongguk groans through strained vocal chords. “Take me as deep as you can to swallow my cum.”

Nodding to the best of your ability with him still stuffed between your lips, you brace yourself for the feeling of his cum shooting down your throat. 

It only takes another minute or so for his balls to clench in your palm and his dick to pulse with an impending orgasm and despite being able to predict what’s about to occur, Jeongguk warns you regardless.

“Fuck. Now.”

You avidly inhale through your nose before pushing your head forward until his entire length is resting in your mouth with his tip deep in your throat. He growls while using your hair to hold you in place as his thighs shake and he comes in hot ropes of white liquid. 

A loud gagging sound accompanies his climax as you swallow everything he’s giving you, the unfamiliar but pleasant taste eventually making you moan once his seed stops dripping from the head of his cock. 

 Even once his orgasm ends, you continue moving your head to lick along his warm skin and clean the remnants of his pleasure off of him. 

“Y/N, be careful what you do to me. You will not be able to handle another round,” he states.

Releasing his cock with a loud pop, you sit back on your heels while gazing up at him.

“Don’t you need time before going again?” 

Jeongguk chuckles while shaking his head, the hand in your hair slowly releasing the strands to slide back down your cheek and wipe away your tears.

“No. As I told you, I am not a human. I do not need to rest or take breaks. I can go all day and night without stopping even once.” The notion of him fucking you without reprieve makes your pussy clench as your thighs twitch with need and he obviously notices the reaction based on the smile he sends you. “Would you like that, my little mortal?” You mindlessly nod. “I can make that happen, precious, but the decision is yours.”

He’s referring to you becoming his mate, an immortal who could keep up with his insatiable need. 

“How does the ritual go?”

Your voice shakes as you ask him about the life altering event and he attempts to comfort you by offering you his hands so you can stand up.

“It is not really a ritual. I just have to come inside of you, your womb, more specifically.”

“That’s it?” Jeongguk nods and you take a couple steps back to sit on his bed. “Would I have to live here like those women?”

“Not if you do not wish to,” he answers. “Although, I am rather greedy, so you will have to be mine as soon as the sun goes down each night.” He pulls his boxers back up and occupies the spot beside you. “You will still be a human and can live life normally for a while, but once your lack of aging becomes noticeable, it would be best for you to stay with me to avoid suspicion.”

A million thoughts swirl in your head as you think about your options and the subsequent consequences. You want Jeongguk more than anything else and that scares you because in order to have him, you have to sacrifice everything you’re looking forward to. If you choose to remain as you are and leave his side, will you ever be able to find someone to compare? Will you regret not accepting his offer of spending eternity together?

“Do they enjoy their life here?” 

Jeongguk smiles assuredly while nodding his head.

“You are more than welcome to ask them any questions you have.” He gestures towards the hallway where you met the women. “They each have their own bedrooms, too. The room you saw is just a lounge we established for them, although most of them sleep with their mates.”

You sigh while pressing your palms into your eyes as a means of focusing. This is all too much at the moment and you don’t know if it’s even possible to decide tonight. 

“I’ll need to think about it, Jeongguk,” you respond.

He removes your hands from your face so he can hold them instead. 

“Of course, my darling. Take all the time you need.” A lingering moment passes before Jeongguk reaches out to run his hands along your thigh. “In the meantime, I would still love to pleasure you. Doing so through our mental connection is not enough for me anymore.”

His statement brings a pink blush to your cheeks and you automatically lean in to kiss him, albeit much softer and slower than your first one. He responds immediately, bringing his other hand up to your cheek as you mold your lips together.  

“Touch me like you did in my dreams, Jeongguk,” you quietly plead. 

He continues to kiss you rather than respond, but his answer comes when he lays you down and proceeds to crawl on top of you. 

You shamelessly make out as he hovers on his forearms above you, the mixture of blood, cum, and salvia on your tongues creating an erotic concoction in your mouths. Jeongguk takes his time exploring your body as though he doesn't intimately know every curve already, but you can both agree it feels so much better touching each other in person rather than your mind. 

“I am going to take my time with you, precious. Do not attempt to rush me.”

Jeongguk gives you a final peck before kissing your neck and collarbones that are still stained with blood. He groans in delight at the taste of the potent liquid while he ceaselessly ravishes your soft, sensitive skin. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you breathe out.

“Do I have free reign to bite you wherever I please?” 

He glances up so your eyes meet when he asks, wanting to see your reaction to his question.

The visceral memory of him feeding from you earlier makes you shiver. 

“As long as you don’t take too much.”

When he sends you a dashing smile in response, your heart sings.

“I am quite the pro, you do not need to worry about that.”

The conversation ends with a harsh sound of fabric tearing and when you look down, your shirt is ripped in half to expose your bra and bare torso.

“Jeongguk!”

He giggles, a hundreds of years old vampire giggles at your poor, tattered shirt as he removes it from underneath you and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor. Before you can protest further, he returns to kissing and sucking on your throat.

“You.” He kisses you. “Your clothes.” Again, only an inch away from his last smooch. “Your possessions.” Another kiss. “Your body.” Kiss. “And your very soul.” Kiss. “Are all mine.” He kisses your pulse point. “I will do what I please with them.”

If you could argue against his claim, you would, but you know just how true it is. 

When Jeongguk realizes you have no retort, he smirks and continues kissing down your front until he reaches the curve of your breasts. He cups them in his large hands and massages you over your bra, making your head fall back into the pillows as you whimper. 

Just like your shirt, your poor undergarment is torn to shreds so he can see your tits unhindered. His initial glimpse must be enjoyable, given that you hear an animalistic growl coming from above you before you feel him mouthing at your skin. 

“You are so soft, darling,” he notes while squeezing and kissing your boobs. “I could do this all night.”

His tongue peaks out for a lick before his teeth gingerly sink into your flesh. He gives the same treatment to your other breast, alternating between kissing, licking, and biting you until he eventually takes your nipple between his teeth. 

You whine as he sucks on the nub to make it pebbled and hard while his hand tweaks the other to match. Even though he’s only fondling your chest, you can feel your cunt practically leaking essence all over you. His hands and mouth are a perfect team who work seamlessly in tandem to drive you insane.

“It feels… so much better… in person,” you pant.

Jeongguk nods in agreement where his face is still buried in your cleavage, but rather than responding to you, he lifts his head, harshly squeezes your tit, and pierces it with his fangs. 

A scream rips from your throat as he sucks your blood straight from the source since he’s right above your heart. Dark, red liquid erratically spills from the wound and runs down the valley between your breasts like a river as your entire torso gets painted crimson. 

“Fuck,” Jeongguk curses. He takes a break to lap up the thick blood with his tongue as more and more pours out of you. “You are s’fucking delicious.”

He returns to the scene of the crime to drink some more as you moan and writhe beneath him. 

When he’s done feasting on you, he licks downwards to circle your nipple with the tip of his tongue before imitating the motion on your opposite breast. The fusion of pain and pleasure sends your mind into subspace and you lose all focus on everything but the man above you.

You think he’s going to keep trailing down your torso to reach the pussy that’s weeping essence for him, but his lips return to yours once he’s done making a mess of you.

“Je.. Jeongguk,” you whimper into his mouth. He hums in response while using his bloody hand to cradle your cheek. “Need you.”

“Where, precious?” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth and up your cheek until his lips are on your temple. Meanwhile, you’re still in such a daze that it’s hard to answer him properly.

“Please, just touch me,” you weakly reply.

You can feel Jeongguk smiling where his mouth is on your skin and his lips momentarily caress your forehead before he moves away so you’re eye to eye again.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy, my darling? Hmm?”

All you can bring yourself to do is nod as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down for another messy kiss. 

While you continue locking lips and sharing oxygen, Jeongguk’s hands glide down your stomach to ruin the rest of your wardrobe by ripping your pants and underwear off in one go. Once you’re completely bare underneath him, you return the favor by grabbing the bottom hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He stops kissing you so you can remove the top, but he isn’t able to kiss you again afterwards because you’re busy ogling him.

“Damn.” As if his extraordinarily handsome face wasn’t enough, his torso is chiseled to perfection and he has not six, but eight pretty abdominal muscles. “This isn’t a vampire thing either?”

He steals a kiss while chuckling at your question. 

“No, all me.”

“Insane,” you comment under your breath. 

Jeongguk still hears you and his face scrunches up because of how big his adoring smile is. 

“You are truly such an adorable little human.”

You’re too busy running your fingers along his taut muscles to acknowledge the compliment, but he forcibly reclaims your attention by kissing you again. 

His hands spread your legs apart so he can settle between them before tracing along your skin starting at your knees. He squeezes your supple thighs between his fingers while traveling upwards until his hands finally reach your pussy. When his digits force your folds apart to feel your wet sex pulsing just for him, you both moan in one another’s mouth. Although him touching your cunt is familiar, the previous times are nothing in comparison to having him in person. 

Unlike those nightly rendezvouses, he doesn’t waste any time teasing you and immediately sinks his fingers into your hole with a loud squelch. 

“Oh,” you harshly gasp. 

Him fucking you with his hands and mouth via a mental connection means you’re still technically a virgin and this is the first time someone else’s hand will be inside you. His fingers are significantly longer and bigger than yours, so he only needs two of them to stretch you open. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers against your lips.

He starts pumping his digits in and out of you at a steady pace, using his palm to rub your clit simultaneously. Despite the unfamiliar pressure in your core, the dual sensations feel amazing  and all you can think is that you wouldn’t mind having this, having him, forever. You can imagine yourself 20, 30, and 100 years from now still wanting him just as infinitely as you do today. 

Jeongguk pulls you from your reverie when he begins using his thumb to circle your clit at the same time he speeds up the cadence of his two middle fingers. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you tell him.

“Mm, I can feel you clenching around me,” he replies. “Are you going to come, my darling?”

When you don’t answer right away, Jeongguk bites on your lower lip, tugging on it with his teeth before letting it snap back into place. The sting makes you gasp, but he swallows the noise when he forces his tongue into your mouth again. 

“Yes,” you manage to respond.

The assurance encourages him to speed up again as he repeatedly makes a come hither motion inside your cunt, tickling the just right spot inside you to send your eyes rolling backwards into your skull. 

“Come for me, little mortal.”

It’s all too easy to follow his command when he’s a goddamn expert at fucking his digits into you. 

When you come, it’s more intense than all of the times he’s made you orgasm combined and you have to claw at his biceps just to hold onto something because of how overwhelming it is. 

Jeongguk continues kissing you through the high, if you can even call it a kiss when you’re too busy moaning to return the affection. Your body shakes in his hold as a climax more pleasurable than anything you’ve ever felt in your life courses through you. His fingers are still deep within you gummy walls while your cunt tightens and leaks cum all over his hand, but he keeps going even when you whine from the overstimulation. 

He ends your kiss with a final peck before removing his cum-soaked fingers from your hole and you watch in complete adoration as he places them in his mouth to lick them clean. 

“Fucking hell,” he groans around the two appendages.  

“Does my cum taste as good as my blood?” You tease. 

His responding smirk reignites the arousal in your core and despite your body desperately craving a break, you’re already ready for more. 

Jeongguk snatches your jaw before pulling his hand away from his mouth so he can shove his fingers into yours instead. You gasp in surprise as he gags you by pushing down on your tongue, a devilish grin appearing on his face as he watches you struggle with a lustful fire in his eyes.

“You tell me.”

His hand quickly retreats so you can answer him, but first you sharply inhale while clutching your throat to refill your lungs. 

“Cum… the cum tastes better,” you tell him.

He chuckles while placing his elbows on either side of your head to hover over you as close as possible. 

“Surprisingly, I agree with you.” Jeongguk kisses you for a mere second before descending until his face is directly above your cunt. “Which is precisely why I want more of it.”

“Wait — ah!”

Your nerve endings are still tingling from your last orgasm, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to care as he tauntingly laps up the cum glistening on your pussy. His tongue moves from bottom to top multiple times to collect the wetness before swallowing it with a satisfied hum. Meanwhile the oversensitivity is causing your legs to aggressively shake and clamp around his head from all the pressure in your abdomen and thighs. 

“I want you to come on my tongue before I fuck you, my darling.”

He kisses your clit once and then moves down to kiss along your inner thighs. 

“I thought I have to be a virgin to become your mate,” you retort.

Jeongguk is too busy smooching and sucking on your skin to respond at first, but he eventually gives your thigh a playful bite before glancing up.

“Technically, but in reality it means I must be your one and only sexual partner. So us having sex tonight will not ruin the ritual for later,” he explains. You still look hesitant and Jeongguk tries to pacify you by gently kissing your supple skin. “Would you like that, precious?”

At this point the two of you are covered in a mixture of bodily fluids and the bottom half of Jeongguk’s face is stained light pink from your cum and blood, but he still looks so handsome and somewhat boyish for a creature of the night. His big, brown eyes are gazing up at you expectantly and you can’t imagine telling him no as you comb his messy hair away from his forehead. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper to him. 

He smiles and returns to ravishing your thighs with his mouth while you contentedly sigh and lace your fingers into his black hair.

Just when you think he’ll reclaim your cunt, you cry out because he pierces your inner thigh with his fangs and begins drinking your blood again. It’s less frenzied this time, his lips almost leisurely sucking on your skin to consume you. The stark difference causes you to pathetically whimper as the feeling turns your mind into mush. 

Jeongguk releases you quicker than before, but proceeds to slurp up the remaining blood on your leg. 

“I have never tasted blood as good as yours, Y/N.” He languidly runs his tongue through the liquid while staring up at you. “If I could still use the lord’s name in vain, I would.”

“You can’t?” 

He shakes his head between sloppy kisses along your skin until he reaches your cunt again. 

“There are not many things vampires are unable to do, but that is one of them.”

“What else?” 

Jeongguk chuckles before curling the tip of his tongue through your pussy and effectively silencing you.

“Later, my darling.”

You certainly don’t mind cutting the conversation short so he can make out with your sex, especially since your body’s had time to relax from your initial orgasm. 

While he licks along your slit and circles your hole with the tip of his tongue, he situates your thighs on his shoulders so he has better access to you. His arms wrap around each leg to hold you steady and when you begin writhing with pleasure, he tightens his grip to keep you in place.

His mouth masterfully produces stars behind your eyelids and he uses his evident talent to pull more juices from your hole that he spreads around your lips for an easier glide. It feels messy and sinful, but also so good you think you could climax again in an instant. 

After a while of lackadaisically swirling his tongue through your folds and fucking your hole, he moves upwards to flatten the wet muscle on your clit. The delicious friction makes you whine and your tears of pleasure from earlier return to create more streaks of mascara down your face. 

You’re surprised by his relaxed pace while he eats you out, but you soon realize he was just ramping up for the main event when his fangs teasingly scrape your clit.

“Jeongguk…” 

“This will feel good, Y/N.”

That’s the only warning you receive before he growls and bares his fangs so he can bite right into your cunt. 

The scream which pierces the air is your loudest one yet and you nearly suffocate him when your legs convulse from the intense sensation washing over you. He’s drinking your blood while continuing to flick his tongue over your pearl and the combination of the two actions is indescribable. When you still can’t refrain from flailing around, his fingertips dig into the meat of your thighs so he can literally eat your pussy undisturbed.  

“Oh fuck, Jeongguk,” you helplessly whimper. 

You can’t tell if the euphoria is making your mind blank or you’re simply losing too much blood, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It feels too good to ask him to stop and you don’t believe he would even if you did. 

An orgasm begins to loom over you embarrassingly fast and you can’t even warn him before you’re coming all over his face while you cry out and desperately grip his hair between your fingers. 

Jeongguk repeatedly grunts and moans as he simultaneously feasts from you and swallows your cum. It feels like heaven and hell are combining in your cunt and you have no idea which way is up or down anymore. His fangs are flanking your clit and as your core pulses through the high, more blood flows from the wound right into his awaiting mouth.

“Holy… shit…” you deliriously mumble.

He removes his fangs but continues to lick you, both to clean up all the blood and ensure he’s pleasuring you throughout the entire climax. 

Once your body and mind settle into normalcy and you feel like you can breathe again, Jeongguk kisses along your torso, licking your dried blood as he goes until he can kiss you and make you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I have wanted to do that for so long, my little mortal,” he confesses. “The very second I laid eyes on you I knew you would be mine. I must have you, Y/N, or I will go mad.”

His words act like a magical spell and you nearly tell him to do it; take you completely and make you his for all time. Alas, a rational voice inside your head stops you and you refrain from uttering the life changing words by softly kissing him. 

He returns the gentle affection with a content sigh. His warm, soft lips are swollen from all his previous efforts, but they still feel wonderful against your own. He slowly marries his mouth to yours, allowing your tongues to dance together inside your mouth and you eventually reach up to caress his cheek so he doesn’t go anywhere. Despite how nasty and devious the two of you have been tonight, the kiss is delicately passionate. 

“Please don’t break me,” you murmur. 

He snickers before pulling away to look at you. One of his hands cups your jaw while he runs his thumb along your cheekbone and it feels so calming you momentarily close your eyes.

“Do not worry, my darling. I promise I will make it worth the wait.”

Your eyes catch the movement of him removing his boxers and it causes your heart to pick up its pace. When you see his cock again, you begin to wonder what cards you pulled to exist in this reality, one where you’re about to lose your virginity to someone so entirely gorgeous all over.  

Jeongguk begins coating his length in your cum by gliding the tip through your pussy and you distract yourself with running your hands all along his shoulders and biceps, eventually digging your nails into his skin when he teases your clit with the head of his cock. It’s common to be nervous for your first time, but uncommon for said time to be with a vampire. Ironically, you trust him more than any of the men back on campus with something as fragile as this. 

When he’s sufficiently lubricated, he lines himself up with your hole and you take a deep breath while screwing your eyes shut.

“No, no,” Jeongguk scolds you, using his fingertips to lift your chin up. “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet per his instructions and you almost forget he’s not human for a second. His pretty irises look like they have stars in them and you nearly melt under his ardent gaze. 

“I know it isn’t the same for you, but this means a lot to me,” you tell him.

His head tilts as a confused expression crosses his face.

“You think this does not mean anything to me?”

“I —”

“I have waited hundreds of years to find you, Y/N.”

You’re too awestruck to think of an appropriate reply, so you pull his face down to yours for a searing kiss instead. 

Jeongguk’s free hand lands right beside your face to hold himself up as he slowly pushes his cock into you, using the avid lip lock as a distraction for the pain you’ll no doubt feel when he penetrates you for the first time.

When his head passes through your tight circle of nerves, you animalistically scratch down his arms to relieve the pressure of him steadily filling you up. He shushes you and kisses across your face to keep you at ease, knowing if he hurts you tonight, you won’t trust him enough to become his mate. Besides, he wants to bring you as much pleasure as possible.

“You’re… so… big,” you grunt as he enters you inch by thick inch.

You hear his bashful, melodic chuckle in your ear.

“I know, but I swear I will not ‘break you,’” he teases. 

It takes some time for him to fully sheath himself inside you, but once his dick is pressing against your cervix, you release the air you were holding in while he groans and buries his face in your neck.

“Does it feel good?” You ask him. “I know you’ve been with plenty of women before me.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to the wound he gave you earlier tonight. 

“None of them compare to you.” His eyes find yours and it’s easy to see just how much pleasure he’s experiencing from being inside you. “You are fucking perfection, my sweet mortal.”

You cradle his face to admire him for a moment and you swear he almost looks shy over your affectionate stare.

“Will you tell me what it feels like?”

Jeongguk’s brow creases at the unique request, but he grins and complies with a nod. He waits until his lips are beside your ear again and even taunts you by licking along the perimeter of your earlobe. 

“You feel like heaven. You are so tight that I can feel your warm walls rubbing against every inch of my cock and so wet you are practically drowning my dick in cum.” His words send a shudder down your spine as he bites on your ear to make you moan for him. “I could have anyone I want, my darling, but I am willing to give all that up just so I can have you for all eternity.” 

He’s doing a ridiculously wonderful job at convincing you to accept his offer and let him fuck his seed into you, but you push the thought away. 

There’s no turning back and you wouldn’t want to anymore, so you inhale and grasp his shoulders in preparation. 

“Fuck me, Jeongguk.”

Those seem to be the magic words to make Jeongguk clutch your hipbone while rearing back so he can completely leave your cunt save for his cockhead. You whine at the sudden emptiness, but it isn’t for long before he menacingly thrusts back in all the way to the hilt. 

Tears instantly prick your eyes as you scream and whimper from the mixture of pain and pleasure. Your veins, nerves, and organs feel like they’re on fire as he naturally sets a disastrous pace of sliding in and out of you. 

You aren’t sure if sex always feels this good or if it’s just sex with Jeongguk, but as the ache slowly dissipates, it makes way for the most amazing sensation you’ve ever felt. 

“Oh, Jeongguk. Holy shit.”

He’s entirely focused on fucking you with all his might, but he lifts his head from your neck to look down at you. 

“Does it feel good, precious?”

You attempt a nod as hot, salty tears fall and make you look like even more of a mess, but Jeongguk just reaches up to wipe the liquid away.

Raking your fingers into his hair, you yank him down for a kiss that seems to motivate him to up the pace of his hips which are already rocking into you with inhumane speed. The change has you crying and writhing in ecstasy within seconds and Jeongguk responds by pinning your hips to the mattress. 

When you still can’t refrain from wiggling, he hooks his arm under your knee and forces your leg up higher. 

The angle brings his pelvis down on top of yours and sends his dick even further into you, making you gasp and sob from the fullness. You instinctively mirror the position with your opposite leg until you’re practically bent in half and Jeongguk clearly enjoys the adjustment because he growls and stops kissing you to heave out a couple deep, panting breaths.

“Fuck, I do not know what I will do if you say no.” The hand carrying his weight moves to your neck. “You have completely ruined me for anyone else. This tight, fucking immaculate pussy is all I can think about.”

You wrap your fingers around his wrist so you have something to anchor yourself to while he continuously pounds into your cunt. 

He lightly chokes you, successfully ceasing your air supply and making the sex feel that much more debilitating. His cock is reaching so far up inside you that it’s almost like his tip is choking you rather than his hand and his reverent confession doesn’t help your dizziness.

“You say that as if I’m not in the exact same boat.” He removes his hand from your throat so you can continue. “For months now all I’ve known is your voice, touch, and presence and I have no idea what I’ll do if that goes away.”

His fingers rake into your hair before tugging on it and tilting your head back to give him access to your neck. He kisses you while his cock abuses your cunt to the point the entire room fills up with the noise of your bodies clapping together. He’s giving you even more bruises as he sucks on your skin and the harmony between his mouth and the big cock stretching you apart is enough to make you forget what you were saying in the first place. 

Jeongguk’s other hand is still clutching your thigh and you wonder if his fingerprints will be left on your skin in the morning, as if he hasn’t already marked you as his ten times over, both metaphorically and physically. 

“I will not let that happen. I will do everything in my power to convince you that being with me is worth it,” he finally replies.

You wish you could properly explain that it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with what you’ll lose. There’s a picturesque future in your head and you don’t know if you’re ready to give up on it. 

“Jeongguk —”

“My precious, beautiful mortal.”

His adoring words melt your insides and silence anything waiting on the tip of your tongue, so you run your nails down his back as a means of expressing what you don’t know how to vocalize. 

He groans at the sensation while readjusting his hands, pressing you deeper into the mattress so he can amp up the speed and force of his strokes. It makes you scratch at his shoulder blades again as the sheer brutality of his hips shoves you further and further up the bed. 

“Jeongguk, I’m close,” you inform him.

“So am I, darling. Where do you want me to come?”

Remembering that he can’t finish inside you without changing your entire body chemistry, you glance down at your torso to decide on the ideal location for his seed. 

“My tits?”

A boyish laugh comes from above you as he bends down to peck your lips.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

Your hands naturally move upwards into his hair as he works tirelessly to break you both off. Truthfully, you don’t want your first sexual encounter to end just yet, but your body is begging for rest and you aren’t sure if your pussy can handle anymore orgasms.  

Jeongguk kisses you again when he feels your cunt constricting around his cock and you know he’s close too because his heavy balls are hitting your ass with each thrust. 

In the end, it only takes a couple more times of his tip kissing your cervix for you to come with a loud, broken moan.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry.

The orgasm is so volatile it shakes your whole body and you sob hysterically while both your cunt and thighs repeatedly clench, but Jeongguk keeps you steady beneath him as he continues chasing his own high. 

After a couple more minutes of him vigorously rolling his hips into your pussy, he whines while pulling out so he can fist his cock over your chest. Hot, creamy, white cum shoots from his tip and sporadically lands all over your tits, mixing with the blood already there and turning you light pink. It feels absolutely filthy, but the sight of him fucking his hand with his head thrown back is truly one to behold. 

“Shit,” he curses breathlessly. 

His chest is dramatically rising and falling to accommodate the comedown of his orgasm and he’s practically glistening with sweat. He’s still covered in blood just like you, the dark liquid staining his chin, neck, and chest and even dripping all the way down to his v-line. 

Unable to help yourself from the mouth watering sight, you climb to your knees and crawl across the mattress to him before skimming your fingers along his thighs and up his stomach. Locating a trail of blood on his abs, you follow it with your tongue while watching for his reaction. He erotically moans as you lick along his muscular torso until eventually reaching his pecs where you circle his nipple with the tip of your tongue. 

Jeongguk looks unequivocally fucked out, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with desire as he watches you in a sensual daze. He grabs your nape to guide you towards his face, but you ignore him and start kissing his neck instead. 

Another moan leaves his lips when you swirl your tongue on his hot skin, seemingly causing him to forget what he was doing as his fingers intertwine in your hair. 

You finish your exploration by biting him right where he first drank from you and his deep, low chuckle makes you smile as your teeth scrape his throat. 

“Be careful, darling. I do not think you will survive me taking you again,” he taunts.

Heeding his advice, you fall backwards onto the bed with a soft thump. 

He crawls over you again, hovering so close that the cum on your chest smears onto his own.

“You’ve made quite the mess of me, vampire.” Jeongguk playfully bares his fangs and you giggle while tracing one of them with your thumb. “Care to clean me up?”

He combs your messy hair out of your eyes before replying. 

“I will run you a bath.”

Before he’s able to fully stand and leave, you grab his wrist to stop him.

“And you’ll join me?” You ask hopefully.

Your endearing expression has him shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

“You are an insatiable little thing, are you not?”

Giggling in accomplishment, you sit on the edge of his bed to watch him stroll into the en suite bathroom.

He returns a moment later and stretches his hand towards you, which you gladly take so he can lead you into the bathroom where a large tub full of water and soap bubbles awaits.

“A bubble bath?” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. “Oh, and you’re supposed to be some big, scary vampire.”

“Watch it, mortal,” he warns.

You smirk at him before stepping into the bath one foot at a time and turning around for him to take your hands and join you. Once he does, you let him sit so you can occupy the space between his open legs. 

It might not be the cleanest bath, since the water soon turns pastel pink from the mixture of shared bodily fluids washing off of your skin, but it feels wonderful on all your sore muscles. 

Jeongguk wraps his arms around your waist while placing soft kisses over each of your hickeys and the single bite mark on your neck. Being completely encompassed by him in the warmth of the tub calms your nerves and you contentedly sink deeper into the water before resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Will you sing to me?” You ask while tracing a large vein running down his forearm.

“Sing to you?”

“Mmhm.” Twisting your head around, you meet his eyes over your shoulder. “At first, it’s all I knew about you and after three months of hearing you sing to me every night, I’m just so used to your voice.” A bashful blush appears on your cheeks. “It brings me comfort.”

He smiles at your explanation.

“I have never done that,” he replies.

“What do you mean?”

“Vampires each have a unique power they can use to lure mortals in and mine is the gift of song, but I have never used mine to serenade someone, only to capture their attention or subdue them.”

“Oh.”

Jeongguk frowns at the disappointment in your voice before moving your wet hair aside so he can tilt your chin up.

“How about I make you a deal, precious? If you become my mate, the first thing I will do is sing to you.”

“Ugh, it’s so unfair to use that as a bargaining chip,” you complain. 

Your obvious indignation makes a laugh rumble through his chest.

“I already told you, darling, everything I do is for selfish reasons. I do not care about playing fair when it comes to convincing you.”

Before you can protest again, he steals a slow, sensual kiss by gripping your jaw and pulling you closer. 

Once you’re both clean of the remnants of your affair, Jeongguk helps you out of the bath and wraps a large towel around you. He leaves for a moment to get some supplies and clothes from the girls since he shredded every article of clothing you had. Upon his return, you do a short skincare routine and dawn the comfortable hoodie and sweatpants he brought you. 

Thankfully, the baggy clothes cover all of your bite marks and hickeys that you have no reasonable explanation for. It’s already morning and you feel awful for leaving without telling Emily and hope she isn’t too angry with you for disappearing last night. 

Jeongguk can’t go outside with the sun up so he only escorts you to the door before giving you a long, passionate goodbye kiss.

“Will you visit me tonight?” You ask just before heading out.

“No I will not, my little mortal.” When you pout, he uses the back of his hand to caress your cheekbone. “I do not want my presence to sway your decision either way. I think it is best we stay apart until you make up your mind.”

For some reason, and maybe because you know him well enough now, you think it’s the exact opposite and he actually wants you to miss him so bad that you say yes. 

Jeongguk notices the inquisitive look on your face and immediately realizes he’s been caught red handed, but he doesn’t change his answer. 

You leave with a reluctant wave goodbye before using your phone to guide you back to campus. When you arrive and unlock the door to your dorm room, Emily springs from her bed and nearly topples you to the ground with how forcefully she hugs you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Your best friend is practically shaking in your arms and you feel immensely guilty. “I thought something horrible happened to you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you whisper to her. 

“It’s okay. I’m just so happy you’re alright.” She takes your hands after you part. “When we found that guy unconscious and you were nowhere in sight, I freaked out.”

“I went home with someone. We didn’t… we didn’t do anything.” You utterly despise lying to her, but she can’t know where you actually were. “He helped me when that guy wouldn’t take no for an answer, but I was so frazzled afterwards that he offered to take me back to his place. I got a good night's sleep, took a hot shower, and then he gave me these clothes to come back in.”

“Wow, what a gentleman,” Emily comments.

All you do is smile, not wanting to say any more and risk her catching onto your deception. 

Even though she seems to believe you, she gives you space because she can tell you’re still not yourself. You hug her again while thanking her for being such a good friend before heading to your bed to get some sleep. 

The only issue is you aren’t able to fall asleep because you’re missing a key element. 

Without Jeongguk’s voice and presence, your mind feels unbearably empty and the stark silence makes it impossible for you to catch a single wink.

It goes on like that for three days before you finally break. 

When night falls after a straight 72 hours of being wide awake, give or take a couple cat naps you managed to slip in, you leave a note entirely full of lies for Emily and retrace your steps back to the mansion.

Upon arriving at your destination, you repetitively bang on the door before stepping back to await an answer, but when it swings open, the people behind it aren’t who you’re expecting to see.

Six gorgeous men stand before you, all twelve pairs of eyes curiously observing you.

The sight momentarily frightens you, but then you remember Jeongguk mentioning he has six older brothers. You’re positive there’s no actual blood relation between them, but it also seems like too good of a coincidence for all seven of them to be absolutely breathtaking. 

“How is all of you being this handsome not a vampire thing?” 

A couple of the men laugh while others raise their eyebrows at your boldness.

“How can we help you, gorgeous?” A tall man with dragon eyes asks you.

“Is Jeongguk home?” 

“Oh, you must be Y/N,” the one beside him with plush, doll lips states.

“Yes…”

Jeongguk must not have been exaggerating about how much you occupy his thoughts since everyone in his home already knows exactly who you are. 

“He is in his room,” a shorter blond man tells you.

One of them gestures for you to come inside and after briefly thanking them, you head down the familiar hall until you reach the door you recognize as his. It swings opens to reveal the man in question before you even get the chance to knock, no doubt because Jeongguk heard your heartbeat right outside his room.

“What are you doing here?” 

His voice automatically eases your tired mind and you suddenly want nothing more than to run straight into his arms.

“I may regret this for… well, forever, but I don’t think I can live without you.” Jeongguk’s already huge eyes become massive pools of chocolate as an expression of pleasant surprises takes over his face. “I’m here so you can make me yours, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear anything else and you experience his superhuman speed for the first time when he captures your waist, yanks you off the ground, and carries you into his bedroom all in a single millisecond. 

Before you can even comprehend what just occured, he’s pressing you against the wall and using a firm grip on your thighs to wrap your legs around his middle. He tilts his hips forward, effectively pinning you down before tracing your entire outline. Once his hands reach your face, he rakes his fingers into your hair to fiercely kiss you. 

He acts as though you were parted for months and not days, feverishly chasing after your lips like you could vanish beneath his arms any minute. His enthusiasm and evident need makes it impossible for you to keep up, so you let him take the lead while circling his neck and tugging on the black strands at his nape. 

Whether or not he’s capable of loving you, he certainly kisses you like he does.

You’re both panting after successfully stealing one another’s oxygen while Jeongguk’s hands trail down your face, neck, and shoulders as though he can’t believe you’re here in front of him. 

“Are you positive? I will not be able to stop once I start.”

“I’m sure. I want you. Now and forever,” you wholeheartedly admit. 

Jeongguk shakes his head in disbelief as a massive grin forms. 

“Oh, my darling.”

He lifts you again and turns around to send you both tumbling onto the bed, your two sets of limbs tangling together as you continue to make out. 

His hands steal yours from behind his head to pin them to the mattress, giving him complete control over you as he pushes on them just to prove it. You don’t protest being held captive, though, in fact the feeling of being totally surrounded by him is pure heaven after missing him so much over the last three days. 

As Jeongguk ceaselessly molds his mouth to yours until you aren’t sure when you end and he begins, his hips grind over your crotch and you can feel his bulge rubbing against your already soaked pussy.

“Please, I wanna be full of you again,” you pathetically confess.

Just dry humping is sending your mind into a tailspin as your immense need for him overwhelms all of your senses, but the feeling must be mutual because Jeonnguk leaves you with a final kiss before standing over you at the edge of his bed. 

“Strip down for me. Then get on all fours,” he commands. 

You comply without another thought and quickly remove your clothes before situating yourself on your hands and knees in the middle of the mattress. 

Jeongguk looks pleased with your steadfast obedience as he smirks at you being in such a vulnerable position, stark naked on his bed. 

He proceeds to take off his own clothes and you watch in awe and pure hunger while he strokes himself to full hardness. Once he’s erect and twitching in his own palm, he makes a twirling motion with his finger as an instruction to face forward before climbing onto the bed behind you. 

You do as he says and turn to the headboard while slowly breathing in and out to calm your nerves that are tingling with anticipation. 

“You look exquisite like this, my little mortal.”

His hands find your hips as he explores your waist, ass and thighs with his fingertips. He spends a tortuous amount of time caressing your skin rather than fucking you like you want him to, causing you to impatiently whine his name after a while. 

“Please, Jeongguk, I need you so bad.”

There’s an airy chuckle followed by the harsh sound of a clap as he spanks you hard. The initial sting makes you gasp and lurch up the bed, but he tugs you back into place with a low growl. 

The next thing you know his chest is touching your back as he bends over you to speak directly into your ear.

“We will have all of eternity together after this, precious. I am going to take my time.”

You turn your head to capture his lips, causing a noise of surprise from him that makes you giggle into the kiss. When you end the smooch all too soon, Jeongguk chases after your face for another peck.

“The sooner you fill me with your cum, the sooner we can fuck nonstop,” you argue.

Jeongguk tilts his head with a saccharine grin.

“That is fair.” He rises to his knees again. “This is the point of no return, my darling.”

“Good,” you whisper assuredly.

He clicks his tongue at you before leaning in so you can feel his hard cock against your ass and you moan as he moves his hips to slowly lubricate his shaft with your essence. 

Just when you think he’s going to penetrate you, his hand lands on your hair and he forces your face down into his pillows. You grunt while turning your head so you can still breathe, but the air in your lungs is stolen from you when he aggressively tilts your hips until your back arches. 

“There we go. Much better,” he coos.

Without any further warning, he thrusts forward and sheathes his entire cock inside of you in one movement. You cry out, shoving your face into the pillows and clutching his sheets in your fists to relieve the pressure. 

His dick feels infinitely deeper in this position and you swear you can taste him in your throat, at the very least he’s rearranging your guts. 

Jeongguk groans at the same time his hands grip your ass to spread your cheeks apart and provide him with the perfect view of your pussy stretching around his cock. 

“Oh, fucking hell. If I could die, you would be the death of me.”

If you weren’t currently smothering your face with pillows just to survive, you would have a witty reply. 

“Jeongguk —”

“I know, I know,” he pacifies you. “There is no need to beg, soon enough you will be so full of my seed it will be dripping out of you.”

True to his word, he doesn’t wait any longer before using his grasp on your hips to spear you on his cock. Sharp, desperate sobs come from you when he immediately sets a monstrous pace and you nearly tear his sheets with how forcefully you’re holding onto them. 

Him fucking you from behind feels unbelievable, but it shuts down every system in your brain and your body has to run on muscle memory alone to control your movements. Although, you aren’t doing much besides whimpering and moaning while Jeongguk does all the work. 

He doesn’t seem to mind, in fact, based on the animalistic sounds coming from his throat, he prefers being able to manhandle you and use your body however he pleases. 

“Shit, you take me so well, precious,” he praises.

When he adjusts your hips again to arch your back even more, you’re forced to bite into his pillow, but it still doesn’t muffle your rabid screams.

His cock is continually penetrating you with so much force and in such quick succession that you worry about him actually tearing you in half. Yet he doesn’t let up for a single second, and along with his balls slapping your clit with each thrust, you aren’t sure you’ll survive long enough to become his mate. 

“Jeo… Jeongguk,” you incoherently moan.

Honestly, you may forget all other words but his name before this is over.

He responds to your call by using his hand as a ponytail and yanking your head up. The new angle it forces your body into sends his cock even deeper into your cunt and you both loudly cry out in pleasure. 

“You are so… fucking tight,” he grunts. “And your cunt is leaking all over me.”

You can hear exactly what he’s talking about, an erotic squelching sound that accompanies each of his strokes proving his statement correct. 

As your end grows near, your pussy relentlessly pulses around Jeongguk, making him growl under his breath before pulling you up until your back meets his chest. He secures you in place by wrapping his hand around your throat as his other one continues guiding your hips to bring your cunt down onto his cock over and over. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whine when the new position provides his tip with the perfect target inside your pussy.

“Mm, my little mortal must be enjoying herself, huh?”

His fingers spread out along your jugular so he can still choke you while licking and kissing your neck between his digits. 

“Bite me, Jeongguk,” you breathlessly chant. 

“No.” His teeth playfully dig into your neck, but nothing more. “Not until you are immortal. There has not been enough time for your body to replenish what I took last time.”

“Will that be soon?” 

Jeongguk laughs at the subtle way you tell him to hurry up.

“Yes, my darling.”

He shoves you back down before retaking your hair like reigns and speeding up his thrusts. His inhumane tempo makes you arch your back again as you keen and sob at the sensation of his cock’s thick veins and ridges rubbing along your inner walls. It feels like you could burst from all the pressure in your core, thighs, and abdomen and before you can tell him as such, your cunt clenches and you come all over him.

“Ahh, fuck.”

Hot tears roll down your face and collect on your chin as an ungodly orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your nails bite the sheets and your entire body shakes in Jeongguk’s hold because it’s more intense than any of your prior climaxes combined and all you can do is scream and pant as it works its way through your body.

Your high causes a chain reaction and Jeongguk’s hips momentarily falter as your pussy milks him for all he’s worth, bringing him right to the precipice of ecstasy. 

“Y/N, I am going to come.”

He isn’t just warning you for the sake of it, but because there’s truly no going back after this. If you let him come inside you, your life as a mere human ends here and now.

There is no choice for you to make; he’s already completely conquered you, body and soul. 

“Do it.”

Jeongguk doesn’t need to be told twice and he shoves your face back into the pillows before ferociously thrusting into your cunt. His dick swells where it’s buried deep inside of you and soon enough you feel his warm semen filling you up. It’s then you realize why he chose this position and pushed your face down when he came, because once his seed reaches your womb, it feels as though your entire body is being torn to pieces.  

The scream that meets his pillows is horrific and gruesome despite being severely muffled by fabric. You wail and convulse as a burning sensation overtakes you, turning all of your nerve endings into small flames that ravage your insides. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” Jeongguk pants. “I promise it will not last much longer.”

He’s right, and the feeling of a cool ice bath gradually douses each flame, replacing the pain with a soothing sensation that relieves the ache and grants you the ability to breathe again.

When Jeongguk pulls out, you automatically crash into the mattress from sheer exhaustion. He runs his fingers through your hair to move it aside, surveying your face so he can make sure you’re alright. 

“Thanks for the warning,” you dryly joke.

“I did not want to scare you by explaining what it would feel like,” he explains. 

“Did it work?”

As delicately as possible, he pulls you into his lap before sitting with you against the headboard. His arms keep you close as you rest your head on his bare chest while taking deep breaths to replace all the oxygen you lost.

Once you’re comfortable, he tilts your chin to the side where he’s softly running his thumb across your skin.

“See?” It takes you a second to realize you’re spotless and the hickeys and bite mark from before are gone. “You are pristine, my little mortal.” He kisses you where the wound once was. “And all mine.”

A smile breaks out across your face without you even realizing it.

“You know what that means, don’t you?”

Jeongguk affectionately rolls his eyes before stealing a kiss from you, but he follows through on his promise, and it turns out his melodic, captivating voice is even more beautiful in person.

But down here, it’s dark. The long and steep descending stairs start out gray, green moss that matches the surrounding flora creeping into every crack of the steps under you and the stone walls around you. All of it is hidden from humans and anyone unauthorized; you wouldn't know of the steps behind the thick slab of rock unless you knew the command to move it.

With every step down, the gray turns darker, colder, as if the stone is more charred the lower you get. Fitting, you guess. The very last steps and the other huge slab of rock posing as a door are nearly black. On either side of the door, someone has mounted a torch, its fire burning with the eternal flame. It's the only light source present beside the remaining daylight reaching its last, thin rays down from the top of the stairs.

It’s admirable, really, how his effort to remain ‘dark’ trumps his living standards and convenience. But you haven't been sent here to judge someone’s sense of style. A moment after knocking on the obscenely large door and wondering how on earth anyone is supposed to hear it, the rock slides slowly against the ground underneath, a deep, grinding sound filling your ears.

A red-horned lady dressed in black leather appears. A demon. “You have an appointment?” she asks casually, one hand on the rock beside her head.

“Uh… no?” you answer, confused rather than arrogant. “But it’s important.”

She purses her lips, glancing back behind the door. If she’s considering letting you in or awaiting someone’s approval, you can’t tell.

Finally, she turns back to you, and with a nod, she opens the door wider to let you through. The first rock at the top of the stairs glides shut behind you, cutting off the last of the daylight as you step through the gap in front of you.

Despite the descent down feeling like walking into a literal darkness, this feels even more so. Do they really keep it pitch black inside?

The woman leads you through a tunnel, the stone walls fortunately decorated with a few more eternal flame torches. Your white strappy sandals—almost luminescent in the warm, dim light—echo against the ground, and your eyes land on the woman’s braided hair and her long, thin tail as she walks in front of you.

She definitely fits the vibe; your flowy, layered white chiffon dress with the lightest of blue details sticks out like a sore thumb.

Soon enough, the tunnel opens up into a large room, the woman gesturing past her and forward. As you walk, you feel eyes on you, but you keep your head held high. It’s the demons loitering, comfortably yet fashionably positioned on wine red furniture like couches and loveseats, black stone pedestals, or even on the floor. The men and women are dressed in either black or red; most of it leather. You won’t deny that they have a certain… pull, their colorful eyes either sultry or glaring as they follow your shape.

At least there’s a gigantic live chandelier illuminating the space.

Two seconds later, you reach the… throne. You’ve heard about this place and what it looks like, but actually being here is another thing. More than anything, you thought the man himself would be present, maybe draped confidently and lazily over that very throne. But it’s vacant?

Peering to your left and then right, your gaze catches on the wall of mirrors opposite the throne, some large and others huge, but all framed with intricate gold.

“An angel?” a low voice suddenly muses from inches behind you, its owner’s breath stirring your hair. “What brings you here?”

Startled, you turn, only to see the devil himself, an amused smirk playing on his lips as his black eyes peer down at you. Goosebumps line your arms.

“I think you know why, sir,” you answer politely, watching as he rounds you.

Of course, you’ve heard a few things about him as well, but you’ve never met anyone who’s met him. As far as you know, the contact between the devil and the upper levels has been minimal for quite some time now.

What you have heard about him, however, includes how handsome he is. Tempting, even. And that’s definitely correct. He’s dark-haired, tall, and dressed in all black as he backs up toward his stone throne, still watching you. The expensive dress shirt is fitted perfectly, accentuating his thick, muscular arms and the impressive build of his chest, a few open buttons exposing a naked strip of it. At the same time, he’s got a surprisingly slender waist.

“Like what you see?” he asks, rolling the sleeves up his thick forearms as your eyes travel down his pants and clearly muscular thighs. 

When you lift your eyes, however, you see that he’s definitely checking you out too, your white, partly sheer dress a real rarity down here, you assume. 

“Let him go,” you instruct softly, not letting his words get to you. “Do that and we’ll be out of your way.”

“No,” he smiles, for some reason having changed his mind about taking the throne and instead taking step after slow step toward you again.

You see it in his dark, sultry eyes, and you feel it—no, you smell it—in the air.

“That doesn’t affect me, you know that. I’m a pure being.”

He comes to stand before you, looking down at you as if trying to figure you out is his new favorite hobby. “Exactly how pure are you? I guess I can try to make you… un-pure.”

“Pure as in you can’t influence me with your lust pheromones. So, will you let him go?”

“No.”

“Please?”

He tilts his head, surprised but still smirking. “I have never heard an angel say ‘please.’”

“Some of us are rather nice, you know. Most of us, actually. Being respectful increases your chances of success, I find.”

“Hm. I like it.” He licks his lips, his gaze dipping down to your mouth. “What do I get in return?”

“In return? Why not just be nice in return?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You find his eyes, asking genuinely. “What do you want then?”

“Hmm,” he hums again, briefly looking away as he considers. A second later, his intense gaze warms your face. “What if I say ‘you?’”

“Why would you?”

You can still feel his demons' eyes on you. Half of the fifteen or so present are women—all quite pretty, even if the intense stares fill you with unease—and you've heard about how he fucks them. But while you're sure you're not the first angel to venture into his home, you're still a rarity. You'd be a challenge, or at least a change.

“I don’t usually like angels; I find you stuck up and uptight. But it’s been a while since I saw an angel, even more so a female angel.”

Right.

“Maybe for a reason?”

He tilts his head again, this time the other way. “Are you implying I force myself on women?”

“No, but you’re definitely bordering on harassing me right now.”

He takes a big step backward, bowing slowly and theatrically, but not necessarily mockingly. 

“I apologize,” he says, straightening up and smiling down at you. This time, it's less arrogant and more… happy? “I have a thing for pretty women. More so when they come here, looking all innocent and pure. But even though I might be the devil, I would never force myself on anyone.”

It is, however, an easy decision to hold off on wholeheartedly trusting his words because, like he said, he is the devil. And technically, he’s a lot more powerful than you. You, an angel, are nothing more than the equivalent of one of his demons. While you don't think he's interested in hurting you, he's not supposed or allowed to, and that's the closest thing to a guarantee regarding your safety that you'll have.

“Apology accepted,” you state, believing that staying in his good graces truly is the best choice. Still, you allow yourself to politely and softly correct him. “You have an outdated worldview, you know? Wearing white doesn’t mean innocent or uptight.”

He raises his eyebrows curiously. “It doesn’t? But you all wear white? And you are innocent and uptight?”

“Technically, correlation doesn’t mean causation, even though I’d argue that we are innocent, maybe not per the same definition you consider. I don’t know who you’ve met, but I wouldn’t call all of us ‘uptight' either.”

“Really? But something like… sex… is a sin, is it not?” he questions, speaking slowly. The way he pronounces the word 'sex' has something stirring inside you, his voice dripping with something you can't precisely name.

“Sex is not a sin, no,” you explain, looking at him. 

You can’t tell to what degree he’s seriously wondering versus how much he’s just steering the conversation where he wants it. But he does look at you, clearly curious and trying to figure you out. 

Taking a step closer, you lift your hand before pausing and letting it hang mid-air. “Do I have your permission to touch you?”

Perhaps even more surprised, he quirks an eyebrow to go with the smile he's still wearing before he nods his permission.

Slowly, you close the distance, and with gentle fingers, brush his black hair away from his face, softly tracing his cheek. He’s incredibly handsome, quietly watching you.

“Pleasure is what you want?” you ask, searching his face for clues. You know roughly what he wants but not necessarily why.

He nods. “I thought it was a sin, though?”

You shake your head. “As long as you’re respectful, pleasure is not a sin.”

His apparent curiosity puzzles you. Everything can become a sin if you hurt others by doing it; shouldn’t he know that? Or is he still stuck in the old ways of looking at things, where anything good is a sin?

Realizing that it’s the easiest way to hopefully get what you want, you let your fingers follow the curve of his sharp jaw and then his neck, until they reach the collar of his black shirt.

“Can I undress you?”

“Go ahead,” he answers, entertained.

You lower your hand to his chest, adding your other to undo the buttons. It’s silent as you work, though you know he’s still looking down at you, watching with amusement as you open button after button and pull the shirt out from where he kept it tucked inside his pants. Not to mention the audience of demons you still have, their previously quiet voices having gone entirely silent.

You breathe slowly as more and more of him is revealed to your eyes. You knew he was muscular, but to this extent? His golden skin is warm and inviting, and he’s all bulging muscles and prominent veins. If virility had a face…

He lets you step closer to pull the shirt down his shoulders. A second later, you have it in your hands, making a conscious effort to handle it with care. The fabric, which you guess is fine Egyptian cotton, is incredibly soft against your skin, sleek almost like silk, and a result of perfect craftsmanship.

Reluctantly, you let it carefully fall to the floor, your eyes returning to the man in front of you. If the shirt was perfect craftsmanship, you don’t have words for what he is.

“So you do like what you see?” he asks, clearly very amused.

It has you chuckling because anyone, no matter species or orientation, can tell that he’s one of a kind.

“I do. You're gorgeous.”

It’s like he almost… beams at the compliment, which you’d argue is even endearing.

Carefully, you put your palm back on his warm chest, letting it slowly slide down his skin before it stops right above his belt.

“You’ll tell them to leave?” you ask as you glance around, at least ten or so demons currently watching intently, their focused eyes ranging from yellow to black.

With a wave of his hand, they disappear, one by one dissolving into black smoke. But when you’re alone—the new silence a different kind—and your fingers reach for his belt, the devil puts his big hand over yours, holding it in place.

You look up at him.

“You don’t have to.”

He has the darkest eyes you think you’ve ever seen. Deep, deep pools of pitch black, yet they’re surprisingly gentle when he offers you an out. 

“Are you going to let him go if I don’t?”

He’s quiet, appears to be thinking. It’s a bit of a surprise to see the devil look even the slightest bit conflicted. He clearly doesn’t want to give you what you want without a fight, but… persuading you into doing something you really don’t want to would maybe… make him feel bad? It’s not something you expected from the devil.

You think about it, assuming his non-answer gives you a bit of wiggle room. You could probably convince him to release his prisoner without having to touch him further, but… you kinda wouldn’t mind.

“If you are nice to me… I want to.”

For a long moment, he watches you, serious yet… curious. Then, he nods his promise, and while you wouldn’t put it past the devil to be a liar, he appears genuine.

“Okay then. Will you get naked for me?” you ask softly, walking slowly toward his throne. It's big, most of it sculpted from stone except the insides, which are made of soft, padded, black leather.

The devil's belt clangs behind you, but when you turn, pointing to his throne to wordlessly ask for permission, he's just standing there, watching you with that same confident smile you saw earlier. Your request is answered with a casual nod, and so you take a seat.

“How do I look? Does it suit me?” you ask, placing your arms on the armrests and crossing your legs.

“No,” he grins, “you’re too pretty.”

“Oh?” you say, smiling. It’s always nice to receive compliments, after all. 

“Tell me, then, devil, what brings you pleasure?” you continue, leaning back to the side and lifting one leg over the armrest. Your long white skirt still keeps you decent, its rather high slits—practically invisible when standing—granting you freedom to move.

“All sorts of things,” he says, his eyes glued to the way you slowly but surely pull the white fabric hanging between your legs higher, revealing more and more of you.

“Do you know what an angel tastes like?” you ask. His gaze, entirely focused on what you’re doing, brings you immense satisfaction. Especially paired with the way he licks his lips.

“No.”

“No?" You definitely thought he would've done it with an angel at some point. "Would you like to?”

Transfixed, he watches you reveal your bare core to him. Seemingly forgetting about his promise of getting naked, he instead closes the distance and drops to his knees. His hands are warm when he grabs your knees, spreading you wider and taking in the sight of your offer with what you interpret as enthusiasm. But then he closes his eyes.

“Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts…”

You chuckle in surprise. “A—are you… saying grace?”

Opening his eyes, he smirks at you. “...Amen.”

And barely half a second later, you feel his mouth on you as he begins to eat you out as if he’s a starved man, and you’re an all you can eat buffet, only open for five more minutes. His warm, wet tongue works your pussy hard, making your breath hitch as your poor nerve endings are jolted.

Gasping, and with your legs nearly automatically closing around his head, you pull on his hair. “Careful,” you scold him gently.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against you, returning to eat you out, still sloppily but calmer.

Groaning deeply, he sends vibrations throughout your entire body. “Is there some kind of magic potion in here?”

“No,” you say, your voice breathy as you try to deal with the intense sensation of his mouth on you. If you weren’t so preoccupied, you might’ve laughed. “I can control you just as little as you can control me.”

You keep your fingers in his raven hair, tugging a little and finding it incredibly soft. The devil doesn't seem to mind.

“You sure? 'Cause your pussy’s calling for me in a way I’ve never felt before.”

“Y—yes,” you breathe, your back arching when you feel him flick your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“What if I just keep you here? Fuck you as often as I’d like?”

“And you think I'd—I’d put up with that?” you groan, breath uneven.

He hums, eagerly licking up your cunt before he tears away again. “Wait until I'm done with you. I'll make you want to stay here forever. You’ll be begging for me, I promise.”

As if to show you how serious he is, he pulls you closer to the edge of his throne by your thighs, spreading you wider. Your hips move on their own, unsure how to handle the sensation of his lewd mouth.

“Show me your tits.” 

You’d think someone eating you out would be a quiet ordeal.

“Show me your tits, what?” you repeat, looking down at him and meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches again when he moves his fingers to rub your slick clit.

“Show me your tits, please.”

“I don’t know,” you tease, chest heaving embarrassingly heavy.

“Please,” he begs, and you nearly laugh when the devil leans his head against your thigh—still hanging over the arm rest—and gives you what you can only describe as puppy eyes. He’s not innocent; there’s a mischievousness blended into his black eyes, and he’s still very much rubbing your clit in slow circles, but you can appreciate the gesture for what it is.

“Fine,” you say, the amused smile impossible to hide.

Using one hand, you move it up your dress, gripping the milkmaid top and pulling it down, letting your tits spill out.

The devil rises to his knees, keeping one hand on your cunt while taking a nipple into his warm, wet mouth. The lazy circles on your clit, an even and bearable kind of stimulation, he mirrors with his tongue around your nipple. Sighing, you return your hand to his hair.

But only a second later, he lets go of your nipple, keeping his face a mere inch from yours. “Can I put one in?”

You nod, his husky voice really doing things to you, and your hands drop to his wide, muscular shoulders.

Like the devil he truly is, he holds eye contact, his dark eyes seeing what feels like every corner of your soul as he sinks a finger inside you.

“Sucking me in, huh?”

You focus on his pretty face as he moves one long finger slowly in and out of you. Knowing exactly what he's doing, he curls it to rub your sweet spot.

“Kiss me.”

For half a second, his movement inside you stops. It’s not the only sign of his surprise, his face shows it too.

“You don’t kiss?” you ask, embarrassingly out of breath.

“Not very often, no,” he smiles. “Can I add another?”

You nod, biting your lip when he works another finger inside you. It’s not a struggle; you’re soaked and relaxed, but it still elicits something like a whimper from you. There’s something in his gaze as he watches you, and then he leans in. It’s slow, even more so in comparison to the fingers he fucks in and out of you at a medium pace, setting your insides on fire.

His lips graze your open ones. He keeps them there, barely touching yours, for a while.

“Devil,” you breathe against him, a quiet scolding for not giving you what you want.

He laughs but a second later finally grants you your wish. His lips are soft, and he kisses you with experience even though claiming not to do it often. But it’s surprisingly innocent. No tongue, no sloppily mixing of saliva, just lips.

In contrast, he pulls back a few inches—and you follow, still holding onto his shoulders—so that he can use both his hands on your cunt and try to make you come. And make you, he does.

His left hand, already pushing two of his thick, long fingers in and out of you, speeds up, the sounds of it almost vulgar. The new addition—the other hand—he uses to rub your clit in determined circles. In response, your thighs try to close around him, and you both hear and feel him chuckle as he kisses you again. There’s not much you can do but grip his shoulders tighter and whimper against his mouth.

When you can barely breathe, the onslaught of sensation rapidly bringing you closer to the edge, you throw your head back.

“Devil,” you plead quietly.

“Mhm?”

But you don’t really have anything to say, and you guess he very well already knows you’re close, seeing as even your thighs start to shake and your breaths lose even more depth.

You feel him kiss your jaw, and a moment later, you’re closing your eyes and biting your lip to stay quiet, but the gasp comes anyway. Stars shoot across your eyelids and the warm pleasure washes over you and your entire body.

He lets you hold onto him, continuing his actions until your whimpers turn into those of overstimulation. At that point, he stops and removes his hands from you.

Chest heaving, tits out, you open your eyes to see him a few inches away, his hands now on the armrests as he cages you in. He grins proudly, looking down at you, and you’re a breathy, shaky mess under him.

“So, what do you think?” you ask, smiling coyly.

His eyebrows rise. “Huh?”

“About tasting an angel?”

“Oh. Ten out of ten.”

It makes you laugh, and you find yourself thinking that… he’s kinda sweet.

“What about you? Did I make you see heaven?”

Rolling your eyes, another chuckle escapes you. 

“So, is that enough for you?” he asks, and while his dark eyes are warm, you can tell even through the relative darkness that his pupils are blown, and it's clear that he's hoping for a certain answer. And even if you’re not technically providing sexual favors as a way of payment (anymore), the original purpose of all of this was to provide him pleasure.

“What do you want?” 

He looks at you with a smile you can’t describe as anything but handsome. 

“While merely eating you out has been the highlight of the century, I'd love to continue. But again, I don’t force myself on anyone,” he reminds you, his voice smooth as he rests all his weight on one arm, using the other to gently tuck your hair behind your ear and then trace your jaw. “If it were up to me, though, I’d already have you bouncing on my cock.”

You gasp at the dirty words coming from the sweet smile.

“You have a filthy mouth, you know that?”

“Too filthy? Want me to rephrase that in a… pure way?”

“Depends. Can you?” you ask, amused.

“Of course,” he says, “If it were up to me, I’d already…”

His voice trails off as he struggles to think of something, and every second makes it funnier to you.

“Too difficult?”

“You know what? Respectfully, I’d love to make you come on my cock.”

His words elicit another laugh from you, something that has him grinning widely.

“Good enough?”

“Sure.”

“Great. So we’re on the same page?”

“Mhm.”

“Perfect."

Effortlessly, he grabs you by your armpits and lifts you onto the armrest, turning you outward. You watch him come to stand between your legs, your fingers itching to touch him.

“Oh?” He pauses whatever he was going to do, looking down at your hand on his stomach. 

You observe it together, how it glides over his warm, smooth skin as it travels south. He’s so impressive; so thick and built. Literally all thick muscle under warm skin. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t complain about what could be considered teasing, so you continue, loving the sound of his breaths becoming just a bit less even.

Your hand moves over the opened belt and the soft fabric of his dress pants. There’s an evident bulge there; it's big, and you swear you see it throb.

“Can I?” you whisper, biting your lip.

“Please.”

He’s thick under your touch. Hard, thick, and warm, even through the pants.

“Oh, you’re a monster,” you say, clearly impressed with what you feel as you rub your hand over the bulge.

“Not unless you want me to.”

It’s something about the way he says that that’s… sweet? Something about it, about him that makes your heart race and your nerves light up and… your heart also skip a beat. Slowly, you unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down. He helps you by pulling his pants and black underwear down his legs, stepping out of them and his socks and shoes.

“Are you really supposed to be this pretty?” you wonder, gazing up at him. “'Cause you’re… beating the male angels by a long shot.”

It’s true. As he stands proud before you, you take a second to really marvel at him, top to bottom. The black, luscious hair, the dark eyes, strong jaw and eyebrows, the masculine nose. His muscular shoulders—there’s even a vein there, at the front—and his bulging biceps and abs. The defined v-line and waist, his thick, throbbing cock, precome glistening at the tip, and his muscular thighs. Everything.

“You know this isn’t entirely me, right? Just as I assume you have actual wings?”

Eyes on the prize and hands quick to follow, you grip him, enjoying the tiny little gasp he lets out. Even getting to stroke him satisfies something in you, although it makes you crave him more too.

“No, I didn’t know that. I’ve only ever heard that you’re handsome.”

“Yeah. Not all of me adheres to whatever standards of beauty you have,” he says, and while he’s still smiling confidently, you wonder if he keeps some things hidden because he might not like whatever they are. In comparison, you keep your wings hidden because they’re big and rather clumsy to walk around with.

“What are you gonna do with that?” he asks, curiously looking down at your hand slowly stroking his cock.

It’s a marvelous sight already, his hard cock flushed a pretty pink. His breaths are even—his stomach tensing deliciously with every single one—but there’s… an inherent sigh to them? Smiling, you use your grip on him to carefully guide him closer, lifting the hem of your dress that’s fallen down your legs up and out of the way. 

He watches you adjust, and there’s a collective groan when you guide him to your cunt. Despite licking you very clean not long ago, you’re of course drenched again, and you see how he takes in a few shorter breaths when you coat him in your wetness.

But when you place his thick head at your entrance, intending on teasing him just a little before letting him in, he’s already pushing inside.

“Fuck,” you gasp, throwing your arms around his neck to hold onto him. He leans forward, his face just an inch away and his eyes locked onto yours.

"What does my little angel like?" he grunts, gripping your thigh with one large, warm hand and pressing the other against your back as he rolls his hips into you.

"Whatever you want, devil," you say, your reminder breathy. "As long as you're nice to me."

"Of course, but I live to please."

You lean your head back, shutting your eyes as you feel him slide in and out of you, filling you to the brim every time. "I thought you were supposed—supposed to be selfish."

"Who says I'm not?" he asks, ghosting his lips over your throat.

You don't answer him, your mind too busy processing the slow kisses he places against the skin of your neck. "I feel you everywhere," you mumble instead, words more air than voice.

"Good."

"Am I right to assume that… fuck… you've never… fucked an angel before, either?"

"You are, yeah," he answers against your skin.

"And I've—never fucked a devil before."

"Well, there's only one devil, so.."

You chuckle, desperately hugging him closer when he suddenly ups the gear, the force punching the air out of your lungs. "Oh, my…!"

"You okay?" he asks, and his voice carries traces of… worry as his hips slow down momentarily and he leans back to look at you.

But the change of pace was surprising rather than too much, and so you nod. "It's okay, I'm good."

Relief spreads through his round eyes, and you laugh.

"Why are you cute?"

"Cute?"

"Yeah? I didn't expect you to be either kind or cute, but you are?"

"Sure about that?" he asks, putting more force behind his thrusts again. But he only proves your point, intentionally increasing the force and pace gradually this time.

You gasp, small whimpers pushed out of you with every hit against your insides. But then you make eye contact again, and while he's so incredibly sexy, he also happens to give you another glimpse of his big, round eyes.

"You might be the devil, but you have the kindest eyes I've ever seen," you laugh, clinging onto him.

"I guess I'll have to be less kind, then," he says, moving one of his hands in between your legs, the pressure of his skilled fingers straight on your clit making you gasp once again.

"Why?" you breathe, words barely able to leave your mouth as more than a whisper. "I like kind."

His lack of reply goes practically unnoticed when he instead chooses to fuck you even harder, your sounds increasing in both volume and frequency and your nails surely leaving marks on his warm, wide back.

"Oh, God," you groan when he taps your clit determinedly.

"Taking her name in vain, huh?" he teases, but at this point, his voice is strained too, and his breaths are definitely labored.

"It's a habit."

"Still a sin."

You chuckle, out of breath. "I thought you complained that angels were too innocent? But sudd—suddenly, I'm not innocent enough?"

"Angel…" he starts, tone teasing. "You're being fucked by, literally impaled on, the devil's cock. You're obviously not that innocent."

"This is far from sin, though," you defend against his neck. "We're both… doing this will—willingly; no one is hurt in any way by this. Quite the… opposite, really."

"Really?"

"Yes. In a surprising… turn of events, you're actually much more… pleasant than I thought you'd be."

"Pleasant?"

"Yeah? And kinda endearing."

"While I fuck you like this?" he wonders, making a point of rolling his hips into you with extra precision, expertly hitting the sweet spot inside you with every thrust.

You lean your head back, shutting your eyes. "Yes. Mhm, just like that. Fuck."

"Like what? This?" he repeats his actions, earning another set of moans from you.

"Yeah. God, you're so good. I feel you everywhere."

"Good."

"Mhm." You bite your lip, barely able to think. "You're so good. Fuck, I'm close."

Clinging to him, you let the shallow breaths he fucks out of you warm his ear and the side of his neck.

"You feel like heaven, little angel," he leans down to mumble against your neck. He doesn't say anything else besides that, just keeps going at the same pace, drinking up your reactions as you near the edge.

You tense up, your entire body pulsing when you finally come, and the moan that slips out of you is quiet and breathy.

The devil fucks you through it, although slower for a while. All until you notice that he speeds up, evidently starting to chase his own high.

"Wait," you beg, still out of breath.

The devil, definitely not as evil as you would've guessed, slows down and even stops entirely. Still inside you, he looks down at you. It's those big eyes of his; they're not good for you.

He doesn't voice his confusion, just waits for your words.

"Do something for me?"

"What?" he's quick to ask, in no way beating the kind allegations.

You move, feeling his very much still hard cock slide out of you. The only sounds in the room are your breaths; his more strained and therefore louder than yours, and even if you don't watch him as you slide down to position yourself properly on the throne again, you feel his eyes on you.

"These are your mirrors? That you watch people through?" you ask, gesturing to the wall of five or so large mirrors, hanging on black stone wall as you adjust your dress. The reflected you looks alive but definitely more put together than you feel. Your hair is a little messy and your face flushed, but that's mostly it.

He stands confused in front of you, wondering what you're up to and why you seemingly wanted to stop. "Yes."

But you didn't. Instead, you pat the spot between your legs. "Sit."

The devil watches you with a confused and maybe even hesitant look, still catching his breath.

Your eyes turn even more hopeful. "Please?"

As if going 'fuck it,' he turns around, sitting down. You lean to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of his face as you wrap your arms around him, splaying your hands across his sweaty chest. He's so warm and firm under your touch, so large and muscular, and he even smells like nothing you've ever experienced.

"Do you usually have sex here? On your throne?"

"Sometimes, but I prefer the bed. More comfortable."

"When you do, though… Do you watch? The mirrors?" you say, nodding toward the large mirrors twenty feet away.

"Mhm. If they ride me then I watch."

"You watch them?"

"Yeah, I don't typically watch myself," he smiles.

"I want you to," you reveal, your voice quieter, more hopeful. A little mischievous, even.

At your words, you watch him lift his head, finding your eyes already observing him through the largest mirror, its intricate golden frame nothing compared to the vision reflected within.

Your gaze travels over his body; his golden skin, the bulges of his muscles, and the paths of his veins. Besides handsome, you've only ever heard him described as difficult and evil, but can something this beautiful really be evil? Sure, there's a darkness in his eyes that's probably not only due to their color, but… You don't know, you're just not sure.

"How many times do you usually come?" you ask, feeling him momentarily tense up when your hand slowly trails his stomach on its way down.

"In a week? A month?"

"In a row."

He looks at you through the mirror, eyebrows raised slightly. "Once?"

"Can you come more times, though?"

"Don't know," he answers. "Haven't tried. I usually just give the ladies what they want and however much they want first. By the time I come, everyone's spent."

You smile warmly at him. "Well, would you like to…? Try?"

"Sure."

Your heart beats with excitement as you move your hands to the armrests, pushing yourself up and folding your legs under you, just to gain some height against him.

"What are you up to?"

"Do you trust me?" you ask, gently pulling his torso back toward you.

"Do I trust you? An angel who I've just met?" he asks, and although his choice of words are skeptical, his voice isn't, and he leans back against you just like you wanted.

You understand, of course, you do, but… you'd say you'd trust him if the roles were reversed. And after all, you're an angel, and he's the devil.

"Keep your hands here, on the armrests," you instruct.

Obeying, he places his large, veiny forearms on the armrests, letting his hands hang off the edges. Satisfied, you wrap your arms around his chest, stroking his warm skin. You were told he can't affect you, can't make you abandon your logic in favor of his own agenda, but maybe they were wrong because he feels a little too right.

Slowly, you let your right hand descend again, finally gripping his hard cock, still coated in your wetness.

"I want to see how many times you can come. Is that okay with you?" you ask, nothing more than a whisper in his ear. To your delight, you glance down, seeing goosebumps erupt on his arms.

He doesn't answer you verbally, just nods.

"Okay. And if you don't like it, I will stop. But I hope you do."

He's thick and hard in your grasp, and you waste no time, moving your hand up and down, up and down. He's not the loudest, even though you don't think he purposely keeps the sounds from you. But the sound of his breaths, growing more and more shallow, and the way he seems to grip the armrests, tell you he's enjoying it when you pick up the pace. It brings what you'd consider a little too much satisfaction your way.

"I'm going to edge you, that okay?"

"Mean," he huffs, to which you laugh.

"I'll try to stop right before you ejaculate. That way, if I succeed, you can experience more orgasms."

"How does one make 'ejaculate' sound hot?" he comments, and while he's trying to remain his cheeky self, you see how his hand fidgets as you keep stroking him at a fast pace.

Somewhat… flattered?, you don't even think before you press a small kiss to his cheek.

Not long after you started, his big, muscular body starts to tense, and you notice his grip on the armrests tighten again, the veins on his hands and forearms popping.

You stop, carefully pinching his cock, hoping it was right before the edge. He lets out a groan, still tense and fidgeting.

"How does it feel?" you ask, sincerely hoping you're doing it right. It's not the easiest when you don't really know him or his body and preferences.

"It feels… good."

"Good. Look at yourself, please."

He does, biting his lip. You know, because you're also looking at him through the mirror in front of you. He's so beautiful, so intimidating yet inviting, splayed out in a way you'd still very much describe as confidently. His legs are spread, and his cock, hard and flushed an angry red, looks even bigger in your small hand. You see him look at the image of himself, hooded eyes showing no discernible emotion as his gaze travels up and down.

"I'll continue now," you warn, resuming the motion of your hand but at a slower pace.

He sighs, licking his lips, and you can tell that he tries to keep still.

"You're doing so well," you tell him, meeting his focused eyes in the mirror. His jaw is tense, and his eyebrows furrowed.

He groans in response, either to your words or your tightening grip on his slippery cock.

"You're so good. So good for me."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah. Gorgeous and handsome and kind and respectful, trying so hard to please."

You hope he doesn't interpret your words of encouragement as insulting or belittling in any way because they're not meant to be. But you think your calm, soft voice gets the point across. There's a faint hint of something in his posture, as if he's dropped a little of his arrogance.

You move your other hand, softly circling his left nipple. It hardens under your ghosting touch, and to your delight, you hear him inhale forcefully and feel him lean back further against you.

Jerking faster, you work him until you notice the signs again. The hardening grip of his hands on the armrests, the tensing of his stomach, and the increase in breaths. You see another pearl of precome appear, and so you stop, fingers pinching.

"Okay?" you check in on him.

He licks his lips. "Yeah."

While you wait for the orgasm to subside again, you move your hand from his nipple to slowly stroke his chest.

"You might be a more adept devil than I am," he laughs, out of breath.

You smile, trying to take it as a compliment. "But do you like it?"

"I do. It's frustrating, but it feels… amazing."

"Good, that's the point. Work up to it but postpone ejaculation. Works for most but not all enjoy it. Or they're just too impatient."

"Unless they have no choice?" he teases, turning his head as if to look back at you as much as he can.

"Oh, you have a choice, mister. Just say the word, and I'll stop."

Demonstrating, you let go of him, both hands hovering above his skin.

"No. Don't want you to."

"Don't want me to what?"

"To stop. Continue," he orders, grabbing your hands and putting them back on him, one on his cock and the other on his chest.

"Sure?" you ask, but you don't doubt that he's truthful. In fact, you don't think he would've let you even try what you're doing if he wasn't feeling it.

"Yes," he nods. "Please."

The added 'please' definitely does something to you, and you go back to stroking his chest comfortingly, smiling warmly at him even if he doesn't see it.

This time when you resume, you not only jerk him at a moderate pace and pinch and roll his nipple, but you nibble on his ear as well. It makes him grip your thigh and arch his back briefly.

"You're doing so well," you let go of his ear to whisper.

It takes less and less time to get him right to the edge with every turn, and this time—when his chest is heaving, and he's worked up a new sheen of sweat—you decide that it's the last.

With your fingers pinching his cock again, you kiss his neck and stroke his black hair. "Hold it," you encourage, noticing that he struggles more than before. He's so tense, his breathing so quick and labored, and he can't keep still. After a few seconds, he relaxes, breathing heavily and deeper.

"Good boy. I'll let you come for real this time, alright?"

He nods, but you can tell by the mirror that his eyes are closed.

For the last time, you reposition your hand around him, swiping your thumb over the head to collect the few pearls of precome that have oozed out to aid the glide. He jolts, clearly sensitive. You don't think you've ever felt a cock this hard in your hand, and it has you licking your lips as you admire it. He really is so, so pretty.

You begin again. Slow at first, up and down, thumb gliding over the head and the ridge below it. The devil leans his head back further, resting it on your shoulder. Of course, you don't pass up on the chance to kiss him where you can; his cheek, his jaw, and a little bit of his neck and ear.

His grip on your thigh tightens further when you pick up the pace, also stroking his chest all the way from his neck to his very defined abs. When you focus on his nipple again, he lets out a loud moan.

It doesn't take long until the signs reappear, but this time, you stroke him through it, mumbling praise in his ear and watching when he tenses up. His eyes are shut tight, and he lets out the most divine whimper you've ever heard a man make. Vulnerable but not quite pathetic. He comes a lot, his muscular stomach painted in white, some of it getting onto your hand as well.

You continue.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," you remind, not even giving him a break but stroking him into oversensitivity. You know some find it painful, but you hope it's not for him. "I think that you can come again."

He tenses and fidgets, his hand squeezing your thigh, but he doesn't say anything, so you take it as permission to keep going.

"You're such a good boy for me, Jeongguk. So, so good."

To your satisfaction, he remains hard and only a few moments later, he's coming again. His bottom lip bitten, a small whine slips past anyway as his cock throbs in your hand. It's only a small rope of come this time.

Breathing hard, he keeps his eyes shut, and his hands alternate between gripping your thighs and the armrests. His skin glistens with sweat.

"One more; we'll try for one more," you encourage, letting up the pressure and only stroking him with your thumb and index finger.

So obediently, he allows you to keep going, his stomach more flexed than relaxed and his head thrown back, eyes shut tight and lip still harshly bitten. Waiting for him to tell you to stop—or to go soft—you're pleasantly surprised when he groans deeply, and there's yet another small spurt of come painting your hand.

This time, you stop when the orgasm dwindles, letting go of him carefully. You wipe your hand on your dress where it won't be visible either way, and then you stroke his chest slowly, comfortingly.

"You okay?"

Keeping his eyes closed, he doesn't sound to be more than barely conscious when he mumbles a "yeah."

You smile, pecking his cheek again and stroking his hair. He hasn't said anything about it nor showed any discomfort, so you assume he's fine with your perhaps unusual show of affection.

For maybe five minutes, you caress him, the room comfortably silent. With every minute, his breathing calms and his body relaxes. Lightly, you trace the lines and ridges of his chest with your nails, smiling at the goosebumps on his arms.

Then, a black cloud of smoke appears. And another. And two more. They solidify into wide-eyed demons, staring at you, understandably surprised and worried as they spot their master basically unconscious, naked, and coated in his own release. Two of them look at each other, but no one seems to find their words.

"He's fine," you assure, tracing his jaw with featherlight fingers as his forehead slowly drops to lean against your neck. "He agreed to release the trickster, so I'd be grateful if one of you went and got him."

One of the demons nods, dissolving into black smoke again.

While you wait, you point to the devil's shirt on the ground, nodding gratefully when one of the other demons steps forward to pick it up and hand it to you. You don't know how much he cares, but as more and more demons appear, you make sure to cover the devil's soft cock with the shirt, just in case. You have no intention or desire to humiliate him in any way.

Wiggling out from behind him isn't the easiest, but you manage, adjusting your dress and your hair in front of one the mirrors just as the first demon appears with Jin in tow.

The trickster adjusts his purple linen shirt, tucked into black pants, as he peers over to the practically knocked-out devil.

"What happened here?" He shares the demons' wide-eyed expression, peering between you and the devil, and while you definitely look clean and put-together enough to not be involved, you know Jin knows.

"Nothing. Now come on. This is the last time we're getting you out of here. Next time, we'll let him keep you."

Jin nods, but by the growing smirk on his face, you can tell he's not about to stop his tricks.

You gesture toward the dark tunnel, walking a few steps behind Jin. The demons are all back now, most of them quietly watching you as you leave. One of them walks you, quietly opening the door for you as well, and you slip past it, faced with the steep stairs up to the earth plane. The slab of rock up there is ajar again, golden rays hitting the top part of the stone stairs.

You make it halfway up, fifty of the hundred or so steps, when you hear the grinding of the door reopening behind you. Halting, you look back to see the devil stand at the bottom, shirtless but wearing his unbuttoned pants and with his black hair messy.

The muscular build, so clear when he's holding onto the door, is such a contrast to his dark eyes. You're not sure if it's mostly the angle as you're looking down at him, but they look rounder than before. More innocent. Although he still looks rather confident, there's no trace of the cocky devil you first met.

"What can I say to make you come back?"

And just like that, it becomes real, and you fill with something heavy and unpleasant, watching him with somber eyes.

"It's not a good idea."

More like, it's a terrible idea. You're not allowed to, and it would be so incredibly risky.

"Please?"

You're not sure whether you enjoy having been right about him or not. But all you can do as you back up the stairs is to give him a shake of your head and a sad smile. He doesn't say anything else, and you turn, climbing the rest of the steps, Jin already nearing the top. He waits for you there, and when you're one step away, you glance back.

Having just turned his head, the devil doesn't notice that you've halted to watch him one last time. He's clearly stayed, quietly watching you climb all the way up. Defeated, he heads back inside, his head lowered, and the door shuts behind him.

You feel torn. Of course, you knew that you'd only visit him once and leave, either successful and with Jin in tow or alone. But you'd leave. And Jeongguk, the devil, would stay, doomed to sit at his throne in the underworld for eternity, never able to take even a step outside.

<previous | next>

You pause. Not many clinics in your small town offer home visits, and even fewer do it on short notice. For your clinic, it’s usually about an old dog being put to rest at home—incredibly sad, but not an emergency. 

“Is it urgent?”

“Not on the minute, but needs done today.”

You glance at the patient chart on the table in front of you. “I think this’ll be quick. I’ll go after this one.”

“You sure?” Namjoon asks. “Technically, it’s my turn.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You should see Oakley when he comes; he’s not very fond of me.”

Oakley, a returning patient with chronic stomach issues, has managed to spray paint you a yellowy brown on three different occasions. From both ends. It’s like he aims.

Namjoon snorts. He hasn’t been hit once.

Checking your watch again, you push the last bite of your sandwich into your mouth, chewing it while you grab the chart. Namjoon is already on his way to greet another patient and their owner, and you take a second to swallow and wipe any crumbs off your scrubs before you follow his lead, heading into the waiting area.

“Millie?” you call, smiling when a young woman rises from a chair, her red dachshund's nose practically glued to the clinic floor.

It’s two-thirty when you pull out of the clinic parking lot, the clinic’s old station wagon rattling faintly as you steer onto the main road. The address in the confirmation email is farther out than you expected but still technically within the town limits, and you watch the short apartment buildings give way to larger, more spaced-out houses as you drive.

You don’t often find yourself in this part of town these days, although you’re very familiar with at least one house here. Many Halloweens were spent here back in the day, kids dressed up as various creatures daring each other to fight through the overgrown lawn and peek inside the dark windows. Countless stories were told about the abandoned house, each one slightly more insane than the last. Of course, you were like… eight, and a large, seemingly empty white house with a big, black gable was doomed to be haunted.

Still, you’re very surprised when you stop at the red pin on your phone’s screen, and it’s outside that very house. Momo, who works the reception, must’ve forgotten to fill out the pet owner’s name on the confirmation form she sent you, so all you have is this address and a brief line of patient info.

Even though the sky is gray—fittingly enough threatening September rain—it’s not as scary as you remember. Probably because it’s not a dark Halloween night, and you’re not a kid anymore. It also doesn’t actually seem to be abandoned. To be fair, it was never really run-down aside from the lawn, but now there’s a big black SUV parked outside. 

Getting out of the car, you grab the rectangular veterinary kit bag, accidentally shutting the trunk a little too hard. The sound echoes down the quiet street, letting anyone who wasn’t already aware know of your arrival. A chilly breeze has you pulling your softshell jacket tighter over your light blue scrubs as you lock the car. When you turn back to the house, you pause to take it in once more. It’s a pretty house—two-story, painted white probably a long time ago but still holding up surprisingly well. Black shutters frame the dark windows, and the tall, black gabled roof reaches impressively toward the gray sky. The lawn has either been trimmed within the last few years, or your childhood imagination really exaggerated it because you can clearly recall it looking more like a thicket with tall grass than just… an overgrown lawn. You distinctly remember more... shrubs.

Climbing the shallow steps, you stop in front of the black-painted door and raise your hand to knock. As you wait, you tilt your head back, once again letting your gaze linger on the house. Who exactly are you here to meet? Maybe it’s some introverted old woman who rarely leaves her house? Or a grumpy old man? But then again, the SUV looked awfully modern. Maybe the ancient resident has a grandchild visiting?

A short moment later, the door opens with a slight creak.

It’s not an old lady; it’s a young man. A tall young man—probably the most attractive one you’ve ever seen—looking down at you. He’s broad-shouldered and lean, visibly fit even despite the thick, black hoodie and baggy jeans he wears. You try not to stare at the shadow created in the fabric between his pecs, or the way the oversized hoodie still somehow manages to cling to the top of his bicep as he keeps one hand on the door handle. His black, relatively straight hair doesn’t look styled, just like it naturally falls into its part, the sides of it a little shorter than the top. Everything about him screams effortless, like he just wakes up looking like that.

One thing’s for sure: he wasn’t who you expected to open the door.

“Uh, hi,” you introduce yourself, telling him your name, “Did you… call for a vet?”

For some reason, he looks almost as surprised as you. “Hey. I did, yeah. I’m Jeongguk.”

Though he smiles politely, he doesn’t offer his hand for you to shake. It’s not something you dwell on. Quite a few of the pet owners you meet prefer not to shake hands.

“Come in.”

You nod and step inside, having to almost squeeze past him in the narrow hallway as he shuts the door behind you. Like always when you enter a strange man’s home alone, you say a little prayer in your head. If it came to it, you’ve got a bunch of pointy things in your bag, but you’d still prefer it if he wasn’t crazy to begin with.

As you move past him, you’re almost surprised that you don’t… smell him. Men—at least in this town—are very fond of their colognes and sprays, but you don’t catch even the slightest whiff of him. You wouldn’t say that you particularly enjoy the strong… scents, but the total lack of one from a hunk like this is almost disappointing.

When you go to slip your shoes off, he stops you. 

“Keep them on,” he says, voice kept low due to the distance. Or rather, the lack thereof. “It’s… not very clean.” 

There’s something in the casual smile he gives you besides an attractiveness you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s a tad of… sheepishness? It doesn’t matter; your skin still heats under his gaze

“Oh, okay,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and professional while waiting for him to take the lead. Luckily, you don’t think he notices.

Even with the heads-up, you’re not sure what surprises you more as you follow him into the house—the layers and layers of dust, or the Edwardian, neoclassical interior design. The faded, beige walls are paneled, and as he leads you toward a staircase, you catch a glimpse of what appears to be the living room through an open archway. In it, you spot a pale green velvet sofa and two upholstered armchairs, fitting right in. There’s also a rectangular fireplace, a gold-framed mirror above it, and what catches your interest the most: a chandelier. Its size is impressive, and so is the fact that it looks like it was made for real, live candles. The same goes for the brass wall sconces placed on either side of the fireplace. You’ve only ever seen those in movies.

“They’re up here,” he says, and you nod, reaching for the wooden railing as you follow him up the stairs.

The steps creak loudly beneath your weight—another reminder of just how old this house probably is. At the landing, he turns, leading you to a bedroom. It’s surprisingly small for a house this size, but it’s cozy and warm in a way you weren’t expecting. You guess the clouds outside have eased up a little because the smallest ray of sunlight filters through the practically sheer beige curtains and highlights the dust particles floating in the air.

The four-poster bed is made from dark wood, its canopy rails bare and the headboard curled softly. Like most things, the white sheets appear pretty much untouched, and the only real signs of life are the footsteps disturbing the dust on the floor. You've followed a path all the way from the door, and when you look closer, you see paw prints venturing outside it.

Noticing your lingering gaze, Jeongguk scratches the back of his neck.

“I haven’t been here in a while.”

You figured. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here since… the late 1800s. Although it’s certainly a stylistic choice—and one you wouldn’t have expected from someone so young and otherwise modern-looking—it has its charm. Even if you’re not sure there’s even electricity or running water.

“I arrived earlier today and found them here,” Jeongguk continues, approaching a standalone wooden wardrobe placed against the wall. One door is already slightly ajar, but when he carefully opens it wider, you see them. The cat with kittens. “I read that you’re not supposed to move them.”

The mother cat, who looks to be all black, has made a little nest on top of a crisp white shirt that’s fallen from its hanger above.

“Oh,” you breathe, crouching slowly to get a better look. “They’re brand new.”

“Yeah. And I think one is smaller than the others.”

Your eyes travel over the small beings, each with varying patches of white to go with the black. None of them, from what you can tell, have even opened their eyes yet. The mother cat stops licking one of the kittens to give you a warning hiss. You listen, rising to your feet and turning away, a plan already in mind.

“Okay, I brought some food that might help lure her out,” you say, setting the bag down on the floor and crouching to reach into it. “This stuff’s usually pretty irresistible…”

But when you look back at the man—a jar gripped in your hand—he’s already holding the mother cat. Just straight around her middle, as if he’s never held a cat before. She doesn’t seem to mind very much, just hangs there, looking around.

Jeongguk looks at you, a little surprised too.

“Oh, okay. She seems to like you better,” you smile. You can’t help but think that he looks… sweet. A big, clearly very muscular and attractive man who’s liked by animals? It’s definitely both a green flag and a personal weakness for you.

The food goes back into the bag, and you reach for the equipment you’ll need instead. With a stethoscope around your neck, a small kitchen scale, and a thermometer, you kneel in front of the wardrobe. In the meantime, Jeongguk sits down on the bed, the cat perched on his lap. He keeps his large hands around her, gently keeping her in place in case she changes her mind.

Very gently, you reach for the smallest kitten first. It squirms in your hands, mouth open and paws sticking out in a silent protest. 

“Sex is notoriously tricky to tell on kittens, especially this small, so I’m not even gonna try,” you say with a smile, giving the kitten a general once-over before focusing on its face. It’s a sweet little thing, crying a little as you inspect it. This one is mostly black but with two white front paws.

“Well, I’d definitely say they’re only a day or two old. This one has a suckle reflex but hasn’t opened its eyes yet. That usually happens between day five and fourteen. The umbilical stump is still attached too, and that usually falls off around day two to four.”

“So that’s… good?” Jeongguk asks, and when you look at him, the mother cat is bumping her head against his abdomen. He peers down at her on his lap, extending his veiny hand in a wordless offer. She accepts it, rubbing her head against his palm and letting him pet her.

“Yeah. That’s normal.”

You return your focus to the little being in your hands, carefully looking into its mouth again to check its gums and palate. 

“Pink gums and no cleft. That’s good, too.”

With one hand, you grab the stethoscope from your neck, putting the earpieces in place. Getting a clear heart or lung reading on kittens this tiny isn’t easy. Their heart rate is fast, making it easy to miss abnormalities, and their small, wriggling bodies make it hard to even position the chestpiece properly in the first place.

Focusing, you hold the kitten still, placing the stethoscope on the left side of its chest just behind the elbow. Then you listen closely, trying to ignore the soft purring from the adult cat.

It sounds… good. Alright, at least. Shifting the stethoscope slightly, you first listen to one lung and then the other. You don’t notice anything abnormal there, either.

“Heart and lungs sound okay,” you declare, slipping the stethoscope back around your neck.

“What’s next?”

“Temperature,” you answer, reaching for the digital thermometer.

“What should their temperature be?”

“Somewhere between thirty-six and thirty-six point five degrees Celsius.”

“Isn’t that a little low? I mean, compared to a human?”

“Adult cats are more similar to humans, but kittens generally run a little colder,” you explain, focusing on getting the reading right. “They don’t have the ability to regulate their body temperature properly for the first couple of weeks.”

The thermometer beeps.

“Thirty-six point two,” you mumble. “So that’s within the range. A little low, but not necessarily dangerous.”

With one hand, you reach for the kitchen scale, setting it on the floor in front of you. It powers on, and once it’s ready, you place the kitten on it, keeping your hand floating above in case the little animal tries to wiggle off the tray.

The number settles, and you read it out loud. “Eighty-one grams.”

“Too small?” Jeongguk wonders.

“On the lower side, but not dangerously so. At least not yet.”

You take the kitten and carefully place it back in the makeshift nest for the moment. Before reaching for another kitten to examine in the same way, you grab a small notebook in your bag, quickly jotting down the numbers so you don’t forget them.

Jeongguk looks on as you inspect the rest of the four kittens, occasionally asking another question. It’s not unusual for pet owners to ask questions, but considering these aren’t even his cats—and from what you gathered, he only found them today—it makes your chest warm. Not everyone would go to such lengths for stray cats. It also doesn’t help your growing soft spot that you get to talk about animals and their anatomy to someone who seems to want to listen. After all, you’re a bit of a nerd, and this is your number one fascination.

One by one, the kittens get their clean bill of health and are placed back on the shirt, and then you shift your focus to their mother. She’s standing on Jeongguk’s lap, still headbutting his chest. While she’s preoccupied, you quietly reach into your bag for the microchip scanner, but the moment you try to get close, she notices and hisses. 

“Give it a try, please?” You hold the scanner out to Jeongguk, keeping as much distance as you can. “Press this button and move the scanner over her, focusing on her neck and back.”

Jeongguk takes the scanner from your outreached hand, doing as you instructed and pressing the button. It beeps, and he begins to move it over her.

“Like this?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed almost angrily as he focuses.

You nod encouragingly. “Yeah.”

“Is it to see if she has an owner?”

“Yes. But sometimes, even if they are microchipped, there's not a registered owner. But we can hope.”

He continues to search for a chip, but when nothing happens, he looks at you with those dark eyes, silently asking what to do.

“Try her belly and even her legs. Sometimes, they migrate.”

Adjusting his grip on the scanner, he moves it lower.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he says a moment later, handing the scanner back to you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking it to put it back in the bag. Although disappointed, you’re not surprised. “Would you mind helping me check her out? She seems to really like you. A whole lot better than she likes me, at least.”

He matches the soft smile you give him. “Sure.”

“Okay, well, she seems to be in okay condition, but I need to rule out any birth-related injuries. 

“What do I do?” he asks, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, the cat still happy to receive his attention. 

“Just… hold her like that… Yes, exactly. And with your other hand, move her tail away for me?”

A little awkwardly, he follows your instructions again, and while you don’t think the cat particularly enjoys it, she doesn’t fight it. You move closer, trying to get a better look while doing your best not to stare at his veiny hands instead. In any other setting, they’d be way too much of a distraction, but knowing that this cat depends on you to evaluate her health, you divert your gaze.

“Alright… I don’t see anything... unusual, no swelling, no blood, no discharge. If she were injured, you’d usually spot it, but she’s not thrilled with me, so I won’t push it,” you chuckle, leaning back.

Having animals dislike you is unfortunately part of the job. Sometimes, it hurts your heart a little, but when you remember that it’s easy for an animal to associate the scrubs or equipment with something unpleasant and maybe even painful, it makes more sense. Briefly, you wonder if this cat has ever been to a vet or if her dislike for you stems from something else. It’s definitely normal for new mothers to have a bit of an attitude, but you’d think that would include every human in the room. Or maybe she doesn’t dislike you in particular; maybe she just really likes Jeongguk. Which... you know, fair.

Almost as if sensing that the examination is over, the black cat jumps down from Jeongguk’s lap, leaping past you to get to her babies. 

“Alright,” you say, wiping your hands on your pants before you stand up. “It’s important not to disturb them too much, but they’ll still need some supervision—especially the small one—just to make sure they continue to eat and grow. And they’ll need a better place to nest, somewhere a little warmer, softer, and less… dusty. No offense.”

Jeongguk chuckles, standing up as well and brushing some cat hairs from his hoodie. “None taken.”

“So, if you want me to, I can take them with me. We have a foster program and a few great volunteers.”

Jeongguk looks down at you, his brows furrowed in confusion this time. “I thought they were too small to be moved?”

“Yeah,” you nod, bending down to quickly gather the rest of the used equipment and put it back in the bag. “Ideally, they wouldn’t need to be. But I understand if you can’t or don't want to look after a stray cat and her kittens.”

“No, it’s… uh… It’s fine,” he says, appearing to land in a decision and sticking by it, his eyes traveling to the little bodies nestled into the white shirt. “It’s not that hard, right? Just keep an eye on them? If you think I can do it, of course. I already have a litter box.”

You blink, a little surprised. “You just happened to have a litter box?”

“No, I asked some neighbors after I called you. I figured you'd have some tips about the other stuff. Like food and such.”

Your smile grows as you watch him. He is… oddly endearing. “Yeah. Of course,” you say, your voice softening. The fewer cats and kitten taking up the very limited space at the volunteers', the better. “Okay.”

You begin drafting an email to send to him. It includes everything you've talked about plus cat food recommendations for the mother cat and a link to a cat bed that’s cheap but comfortable enough for a nursing litter. While you write, you talk him through everything again, like what to watch for, when to weigh them, and what to do if anything seems off.

He asks a few questions, making it very clear—if it wasn’t already—that he doesn’t really have any experience with animals. While he’s never appeared scared or nervous during your visit, you can tell that he’s not quite sure what to do. He moves slowly, almost a little awkwardly around the cats, but it’s more like he doesn’t want to scare them.

“You really like animals,” he points out, watching you tuck your notebook back into the bag.

You glance up at him. His tone isn’t mocking but more... curious. Still, you nod, a little self-conscious of how nerdy you can be.

“Yeah, animals are incredible. Not only because they’re such good companions—some of them at least—but, they’re so fascinating? How they function and how they’ve evolved.”

But there’s something else in his curious gaze that you finally pick up on, and it dawns on you.

“You think I’m a freak too, don’t you?” you say with a smile, pulling the stethoscope you’d forgotten to pack from around your neck and tucking it into the bag as well.

“No, no,” he shakes his head.

You lift an eyebrow. “But you know about it? My paper?”

His eyes are so dark. “Yeah…”

You look away, trying not to let it affect your professionalism. Speaking about it brings up memories you’d rather not be reminded of. “I thought you said you hadn’t been here in forever?”

It’s weird, right? If he doesn’t live here and hasn’t been around in a long time, how would he know the gossip?

“Town called a few years ago. About the electrical wiring needing to be upgraded. So I came here to fix it.”

Oh. That makes sense, you guess. A few years ago was when it first happened. That’s probably also why the yard looked different from what you remembered.

“And you heard about it?”

He smiles apologetically. “Yeah. It’s a small town, I guess.”

“It’s not like I think Ariel is real. Or that dragons roam the sky or that Dracula lives in a dark castle somewhere, wearing a black cape over a white, frilly shirt,” you defend, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “I just wrote about how much we don’t actually know about the living organisms around us and how some of the 'supernatural' traits aren't really that crazy, anatomically speaking.”

“No, I get that,” he assures, sounding like he genuinely didn’t mean to upset you. “I found it very interesting.”

“So is that why you looked so surprised to see me? Because you recognized me?”

“No. Or… well, yeah. I spoke to the receptionist, and she told me a man’s name—Namjoon, I think—would come.”

“Oh.”

“But I did also vaguely recognize you, I think. From the image.”

Lifting your wrist, you glance at the watch. “I should start to head back. Lock the clinic up.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Jeongguk says, and when you meet his dark eyes again, he looks genuine. “I don’t think you’re a freak, I promise.”

“It’s alright,” you say, offering him a quick smile. “I’m not supposed to be out this long anyway. I have to get back and finish up the bill. I’ll email it to you along with the advice, is that okay?”

He nods, clearly accepting that he did in fact upset you to some degree. “Okay. Thank you for the help.”

You smile again, relaxing your shoulders and taking a deep breath. Maybe you should cut him some slack. Technically, he wasn’t even the one to bring your paper up; that was all you. And besides very, very handsome, you haven’t once thought of him as anything other than sweet.

"No problem."

The drive back to the clinic is quiet. You don’t even turn the prehistoric radio on. It doesn’t matter because your thoughts are loud enough anyway, circling back to one thing. One thing and one person.

The paper you wrote in vet school was a mistake. Not that it was bad per se—it was a perfectly science-based paper, focused on the more unusual biological traits found in the animal kingdom. 

Unfortunately, you made the grave mistake of connecting some of those traits to various mythical creatures and their ‘unbelievable’ biology. Some of your peers—predominantly men—found it absolutely ridiculous and teased you for it. The more you tried to defend yourself, the funnier they thought it was.

You’d think it at least would’ve stayed within whatever small circle vet med is, but when your small town happens to be known specifically for the vet med program, a surprisingly large chunk of the population has some connection to it. You’re lucky that not many wish to stay in town after graduating, or you would’ve been last on the list to get a job. You still remember your current boss’s inspecting eyes as she interviewed you, trying to make sure you weren’t actually batshit crazy. That was maybe five or so years ago, and you haven’t really had to think about the paper in probably at least a year. 

Until today. Again, it wasn’t Jeongguk’s fault, you don’t think he even meant for it to be brought up. It still caught you off guard, though, because even if you don’t know him, he didn’t give off the same vibe as the people who laughed at you. And now, you can’t stop thinking about him. About his build, and how the oversized clothes hung off his strong, muscular body. Or his large, veiny hands as he gently pet the mother cat. His dark eyes, sharp jaw, and strong eyebrows. Even his nose—with its straight bridge and softly rounded tip, creating such a striking, masculine profile—had a way of completely mesmerizing you.

Not only is he probably the most attractive man you’ve seen in a long time—maybe ever, but he seemed… warm. You wouldn’t expect a man like him to care for a stray cat and her newborn kittens, much less call a vet out to help, but he did.

Back at the clinic, you take a seat in front of the desktop computer, typing your notes into the chart and updating the bill. Besides the obviously tragic parts of dealing with sick and injured animals, the worst part is probably billing the owners. You need money to live just like everyone else, but you’ll always feel wrong charging worried owners to care for their family members. Even now, as you’re adding the services to… Jeon Jeongguk’s bill, you think about how the cats don’t even belong to him.

The cursor hovers over his name. Who is he? How did he come to be the owner of that house, and why own it if he’s not living there or at least visiting regularly? Why bother even fixing the electrical wiring if it’s just gonna stay empty? And just how long had it been empty?

The questions whirl in your head. Though it’s not really any of your business why he returned, maybe you could’ve at least asked him where he’s from? It would’ve been acceptable small talk, right? Could you also have asked why he felt the need to take care of the cats, even when you offered to take them off his hands, or would that have been rude? 

Realizing that you’re not getting anywhere, you bill him for a standard home visit of half an hour—even though you stayed closer to one—and for the gas just so you don’t lose money on the visit. You don’t add the same day fee or charge him for the used materials.

<previous | next>

christopher pushed the door open with his shoulder, one arm hooked under minho’s.

“i’m up on five minutes,” christopher panted, already half-turned toward the hallway. “please, patch him up. minho, don’t misbehave.”

you looked up from the supply cart, partially ignoring christopher’ words. you knew exactly who you were the second christopher said his name.

the smell hit you first. antiseptic, sweat, the copper edge of blood. you turned your head slightly to minho, scanning his face, looking for any serious injury. his eyebrow was split, blood tracking down his temple in a thin line. a bruise was already blooming along his sharp jaw.

christopher didn’t wait for an answer. he didn’t have time, not even if he wanted to keep an eye on both of you. he sighed, shoved minho forward until his back met the wall. he was still kinda dizzy after the punch he receive on the ring, even if it was a friendly round.

after giving you a quick glance and a supportive nod, christopher disappeared down the hallway.

minho stayed where he was left, weight on one leg, breathing heavy through his nose. his tank top clung to his chest, dark patches spreading under the arms. he was watching you with that look he only gave you when no one else was around. half challenge, half invitation.

like a cat deciding whether you were worth trusting or just another toy worth batting around.

you grabbed gloves and a sterile packet. when you looked over your shoulder, his sharp, sparking eyes were already on you.

“please, minho, sit down,” you said quietly, nodding toward the exam table. 

but he didn’t move right away. just looked at you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. then he snorted and dropped onto the metal table. the paper crinkled under his weight. 

you stepped between his knees. the grin that pulled at his mouth was small but unmistakable. your eyes went to the small cut above his eyebrow. it was clean, but deep enough to need pressure. you tore the packet open, soaked the gauze on antiseptic, and pressed gently. 

minho hissed through his teeth, face tightening. “s-shit…”

“hold still. it’s almost over,” you murmured, keeping your voice even.

his hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening. his brows stayed furrowed, but a small smile still sat on his lips. 

“hard to when you’re this close,” he said, teasingly. his voice was low, still rough from the round. “you’re driving me crazy.”

you didn’t answer. you tried to ignore the way his proximity was already fucking with your head, your pulse skipping every time his breath hit your neck. you knew he was just teasing. always teasing. but something inside you still wanted him to mean it. 

you wiped the blood away in slow strokes, watching the cut, making sure it stayed clean. his skin burned under your fingers. your hands shook a little when the gauze brushed near his plump lips. 

“chris trusts you with everything,” minho continued. “his shoulder, his hands, every little problem. but he still left like he thought i’d do something to you without asking.”

“he doesn’t think that, don’t be silly,” you said, reaching for more antiseptic. “besides, you know i can handle you perfectly fine.”

he laughed once, short. his eyes followed you as you moved, slow and deliberate. the cut on his cheekbone needed attention too. 

the antiseptic stung, burning like hell. his thigh flexed against your hip when you dabbed, making you jerk, surprised. your eyes snapped to his, worried.

“fuck, that fucking hurts” he muttered, biting his lower lip, one eye squeezed shut. 

“we’re almost done with this part,” you whispered, trying to calm him down.

you leaned in closer to check the edges, checking that everything was in order. his breath hit your cheek now, feeling warm but steady. the distance between you almost inexistent. he didn’t lean back anyways, enjoying every inch of it. 

“been thinking about this,” he murmured, voice raw. you shuddered, feeling your knees going weak. “you touching me so careful,” he leaned closer, his nose brushing your cheek. “so close i could pin you under me right now.”

you straightened fast, face burning, heartbeat pounding in your ears. your hand landed on his chest without thinking. his muscles shifted under your palm, his breathing already heavier. 

“minho, you’re talking nonsense,” you stated, examining his face with amusement. “stop fucking around. now.”

his grin widened, that cocky, irritating thing that always made your stomach flip. you wondered if it was normal to get this turned on just from the way he looked at you. 

he caught your wrist before you could step away. it wasn’t hard, he didn’t want to put pressure on you. he was pressing just enough to keep you there.

“make me,” he whispered, the words slow on his tongue. the corner of his mouth lifted when he felt your pulse jump under his fingers. 

you pulled your hand free but didn’t walk away. if anything, you leaned in a little more, already missing the heat of him. your head was spinning. was he just being an asshole, or did he actually want this as much as you did? 

his hand found your hip, thumb pressing under the waistband of your scrubs. his eyes were half-lidded, fixed on your mouth. 

“tell me to stop and i will,” he said, leaning closer. “just say it.”

but you didn’t. you couldn’t. you wanted this as badly as he seemed to. 

his palm slid higher, under the hem of your top, skin on skin. you were going insane. you were touch-starved or maybe just reacting to him. you couldn’t care less which one. 

“tell me,” he repeated, voice lower, hungrier.

his other hand hooked into your belt loop and pulled you in until your thigh pressed between his. your lower abdomen tightened when you felt how hard he already was, the outline obvious through the thin fabric of his shorts. 

“minho-” you whimpered, eyes wide when his fingers dug into your skin before wandering on your back.

“shh. be quiet,” he tugged you forward until you were straddling one of his thighs, feet still touching the floor. “need you to reach for that bandage behind me.”

you blinked slowly, brained fogged. you don’t understand what he was planning. without thinking, you stretched over his shoulder, looking for what he asked you for. your tits brushed his face unintentionally, making you jerk embarrassed.

minho turned his head and mouthed at the skin above your collar, teeth scraping, tongue dragging. he didn’t let you pull back. instead he rolled his thigh up once, slow, the muscle flexing under you. 

the seam of your scrubs dragged against your clit through your soaked panties. a high, broken moan slipped out, followed by a string of whimpers. 

“there it is,” he said against your throat, smiling like he’d won something. “been waiting to hear that.”

you tried to shift off but he caught your hips with both hands and held you there. your head was getting foggy. he guided you into another slow grind, longer this time. the friction was dull and frustrating, exactly enough to make your breath catch. you could feel how wet you already were, fabric clinging, soaked.

“minho, someone could-”

“the door’s locked. chris is busy for another twenty minutes at least,” he said, almost too fast, then caught your mouth in a hard, needy kiss. 

he dragged you forward again, harder. your clit caught the ridge of muscle and you jerked. your hands clenched on his shoulders. moans and whines kept spilling out. 

“f-fuck,” you whimpered, lips parted. “feels so good…”

“that’s it, darling,” his voice low and rough in your ear. “ride it. please yourself with me.”

and you did. small movements at first, testing. then faster, clumsier as he encouraged you. the table creaked under the erratic movement. his hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs digging in, controlling the angle. 

every roll of your hips sent heat up your spine, your panties panties clung, soaked through, the fabric rasping over your swollen clit with every pass. minho’s breath hit the shell of your ear, low and amused. 

“look at you,” he murmured, his fingers wound into your hair and tugged, just enough to tip your head back. “little nurse getting off on my thigh like she’s been thinking about it for weeks.”

a broken sound slipped out before you could bite it down. minho’s thumb caught your lower lip, pulling it free, dragging slowly across the wet skin. 

“don’t hide it from me. i want every sound”

your mouth chased his again, clumsy, teeth clicking, tongues sliding. he bit your lip hard enough to sting and soothed it with a slow lick. the pressure between your legs coiled tighter, sharper.

his hand slid under your waistband, under the ruined cotton, and found you dripping. two fingers stroked through your folds without pushing in, just gliding over the mess you’d made.

“fuck,” he breathed, laughing softly. “this wet already?”

your hips jerked, rhythm faltering. he stopped immediately, palm cupping your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“don’t stop because i’m touching you. keep going. be a good girl.”

and you really tried, but the combination of his thigh and his fingers made your thighs shake wild. he circled your clit over and over again. he kept the pressure steady, deliberate, watching every twitch of your face, every time your eyes rolled. 

without warning he pushed two fingers inside, thick and sudden. your moan tore out loud enough to echo off the metal cabinets. your forehead dropped to his. the stretch burned sweet. 

“holy shit, minho- you are- please, i need you to-” you moaned, head above the sky. your voice was shaky, numb.

“i know, i know,” his voice was soothing, calm.

he curled his fingers, found the spot that made your vision spark, and fucked you in short, brutal thrusts while you ground down on his thigh. the wet sound of it filled the room, obscene, constant. every forward roll pressed his palm against your clit again.

“ah! yes, yes- just right there, min- fuck!”

you were close too fast. minho felt the first flutter around his fingers and pulled them out. you whined, high and broken, hips chasing nothing. he snorted, pressed a quick kiss to your swollen mouth.

“not yet,” he mumbled, his voice raw. he lifted you, set you on the edge of the table between his spread knees. “keep your knees there and come here.”

you climbed up, obedient, knees already aching against cold metal. minho shoved his shorts down just far enough. his cock sprang free, flushed dark, tip glistening. he wrapped a hand around the base and gave one lazy stroke, eyes locked on yours.

“open your mouth,” he demanded, voice firm.

you pressed your thighs together, mouth watering. the second your lips parted he guided himself in, slow at first, then deeper when his hand settled at the back of your head. he didn’t force. he just held you there, thumb stroking behind your ear while you worked him with your tongue, licking from base to tip, hollowing your cheeks, taking him until your throat fluttered around the head.

“fuck, that’s good- so tight, so warm…” he muttered, his head falling back against the wall. “been thinking about your mouth for weeks.”

your cunt clenched around nothing. he pushed you deeper until you gagged, tears pricking. you bobbed faster, sloppy, spit running down his shaft. every time he felt too close he tugged you off, breathing hard, cock twitching against your tongue.

he seem to love to fuck your face, your eyes staying as long as you could on his before rolling them back.

he pulled you off completely, panting loudly. his chest was going up and down wildly, his hair sticking to his forehead. you could see his lips parted, his tongue licking them slowly.

“turn around,” he whined, trying to sound as firm as he could.

you barely started moving before he dragged you back into his lap, your back to his chest this time. one hand spread your thighs wide while the other shoved three fingers back inside you without preamble. you cried out, back arching, hands scrabbling for the table edge. he fucked you steady and deep, curling on every thrust, his other hand rubbing tight circles over your clit.

“come on”, he panted against your neck, teeth scraping. “want to feel you lose it.”

he was panting and groaning in your ear, spreading kisses on your shoulder and neck, sucking hard enough to leave some more marks there.

he really wanted everyone to know you were with someone, even if they didn’t know it was him.

“m-minho- oh fuck, you… mmmh- s’too much, i can’t take more- so close…” your voice was a mess, unable to talk coherently.

minho snorted, making his moves faster. “come for me. want to see your face while you come.”

he fucked you steady and deep. he wasn’t going to let you catch any break. he needed you long enough to let you go away just like that.

“min! m’gonna-” you shouted, too gone to think about where you were.

you came with a broken shout, thighs shaking so hard the table rattled. minho didn’t stop until you were twitching and whimpering, oversensitive. only then did he pull his fingers free. you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, slow, deliberate. licking them as if it was a treat. your cheeks lighten up, unable to look away.

“tastes as sweet as you look”, he murmured, licking his lips. “now, be a good girl for me and let me fuck you.”

you nodded, frantic. he lifted you just enough to line up and pulled you down onto his cock in one smooth motion. the stretch was deeper than his fingers, thicker. he bottomed out and held you there, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. you could feel his warm breath against your neck, hearing him hiss when you took him fully.

“move, darling. wanna watch you bouncing on it,” he said, smugly. that cocky tone never leaving his voice.

but you couldn’t wait any more. 

you started slow, getting used to the thickness, then faster, riding him hard enough that the table legs scraped the floor. skin slapped wetly, sweat slid down your spine. minho kept one hand between your legs, rubbing your clit even though you were still sensitive, the other gripping your tits, feeling them bounce. his eyes stayed fixed on where you took him, lips parted, breathing ragged. 

his face shrink, feeling his own orgasm coming. his hands gripped your waist again, making your moves faster, erratic. your moans never stopped, getting louder and louder with each thrust. both of you were a sweaty, wet mess.

“g-gonna come,” he said against your shoulder, panting. “need to come inside you, please… fuck, you’re milking me good.”

“y-yes! do it, min. need you to cum inside me… oh, god-”

you nodded fast, taking his lips with yours in an urgent kiss. his tongue wandered on your mouth, his teeth clenched on your lower lip when he felt that hot wave hit him.

he finished hard, a bigger amount of what you expected. you could feel him throbbing inside you, his shaky hands caressing your body. his broken sounds being muffled against your bare skin. you could feel how you started leaking, his cum dripping between you.

and neither of you moved for a long moment. even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stand on your own feet right now. and minho didn’t look any better, his face hidden on your back while his breath sounded erratic, ragged.

you could hear him laugh once, quietly, before pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. no words needed, his hands tugging you on a warm, soft hug.

the door was still locked. outside, the sound of another round starting filtered through the walls.

but here, inside, minho’s fingers traced slow circles on your skin like he had nowhere else to be.