Moe

i have more screenshots, such as the instant messages and every single one of the 29488448 asks they sent me using other accounts after i tried to warn people with a callout. Mind you, i was not aware this person was recently dealing with drama elsewhere. i have nothing to do with that.

they stole my work, lied and said it was an ai idea, then later admitted to taking my work, using ai, and lying about their age. if i have to post more screenshots, ok.

but for the most part i’m gonna move on now. take this as you will, i’ll be logging off now.

You push through the door, laptop bag sliding off your shoulder, already mentally clocking out of the first lecture before it's even started.

You’re so focused on going to your lecture that you nearly collide with someone.

Ni-ki is always recognizable through his scent most of the time, always that faint coffee smell to hide whatever he smoked on the drive over. His hand shoots out to hold something up between your faces. A small black clip. You spent 10 minutes looking for it yesterday with the little crack in the plastic from when you dropped it in your shower not so long ago.

"You left this," he says flatly.

Two days ago. You remember exactly where you left it ; on his nightstand, next to the empty can of soda and your phone that he'd moved so it wouldn't fall off the edge. He kept it in his pocket like a psychopath until now.

You take it. Your fingers brush his.

"Thanks," you say, because what else is there.

He's already stepping around you, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, heading to the opposite direction of every single one of his classes. You watch the back of his hoodie disappear around the corner.

Jess is already in your usual seats, two rows from the back, her energy drink sweating onto her notebook. She clocks your face the second you sit down.

"God, you look terrified," she says. "What happened?"

You set the clip on the desk. "Ni-ki just returned my hair clip."

Jess's eyebrows go up. She knows, not everything, but enough to figure out your state. She knows you go over there and she knows you don't talk about it.

"And how was that exchange ?"

"Normal, I guess." You pull out your laptop, even though you know you're not going to take notes. "He said 'you left this' and walked away."

"Romantic."

"Right."

She's quiet for a bit, then leans closer, lowering her voice even though no one near you is paying attention. "Okay, real question. Are you, like... keeping track? I mean, number-wise."

You frown. "Like...body counts?"

"Yeah. Like, since this whole thing started. Are you even seeing other people? Are you counting repeats? Because I've been thinking about it and I genuinely don't know what the etiquette is."

"I don't think there is an etiquette for whatever this is." You tap your fingernail against the desk. "And no, I'm not counting anything."

"You should. For records, at least." She grins, but it fades when you don't mirror it. "Fine. Do you want to count him? Like, in a way that means something?"

The professor walks in and you watch the projector screen flicker to life.

"I don't know," you say. And that's the worst part, you don't know if you want him to mean something or if you just want to stop wanting it so badly. The line between the two has been blurred for months now.

Jess sighs. "Boys are so stupid, like actually brain-dead. I swear my ex thought the clit wasn’t a real thing."

That pulls a laugh out of you, tired and a little rough. "He wasn't that bad."

"Your bar is in hell as I can see."

The lecture starts. You zone out ten minutes in, thumb moving over the crack in your hair clip. He kept it in his pocket for two days. You don't know what that means and you're probably not supposed to know.

It's fine. You'll text him tonight. He'll reply with one word or nothing at all. And you'll go over anyway. Because that's what this is.

───

Break time hits and the courtyard is a mess. You find a spot at one of the picnic tables near the old oak tree, Jess refuses to sit at because she says it gives her anxiety. You don’t mind it. It’s farther from the main walkway, which means fewer people trying to make small talk.

Jess is already inside the cafeteria buying a pastry that she kept talking about during the whole lecture, so you’re alone for a minute, scrolling on your phone without really focusing on anything. The sun is too bright and the coffee you had earlier is making your hands feel jittery. You can’t stop thinking about the way Ni-ki held out that hair clip this morning like it was nothing.

You look up because something in your peripheral shifts, and there he is. Two tables over, diagonal across the courtyard, sitting with Jay and Jungwon and another guy you don’t recognize. He’s not paying attention to whatever Jay is saying ; his elbow is propped on the table, chin resting on his knuckles, and he’s looking directly at you.

You hold eye contact because looking away first feels like losing a battle you didn't even initiate.

He tilts his head slightly, lazy but intentional, and mouths something slowly so you catch every syllable: "My place. After classes?"

Sounds like it’s a statement dressed up like one.

You nod once, enough for him to catch it.

He smiles but not a big one, it's a twitch at the corner of his mouth, making it looks like he’s amused by the whole thing, you just confirmed something he already knew. Afterwards, he turns back to his friends like nothing happened, reaching over to steal Jay’s fries without looking at you again.

Oh you hate what you just felt at that exact moment.

Jess drops into the seat across from you a moment later, biting into a croissant that’s shedding crumbs everywhere. “Okay, so I have a chem lab at 2 and then I’m free,” she says, talking around the pastry. “You wanna grab food after? There's that new Thai place that opened and I’ve been thinking about their spring rolls for days.”

You blink at her, still half-focused on the back of Ni-ki’s hoodie across the courtyard.

“Damn, the wind must be really strong today.”

“Sorry. What?”

“Thai place after classes. You in or not?”

You hesitate for a beat too long and Jess’s eyes narrow.

“Oh Lord,” she says slowly, setting down her croissant. “You’re not free, are you?”

You pick at a splinter on the table. “Not tonight.”

“Let me guess.” She leans forward. “Tall and emotionally unavailable.”

“Is that how you see him?”

“Am I wrong?”

You don’t answer, and she groans into her hands.

“You’re actually killing me,” she says. “One day, you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been in a situationship with a guy who communicates exclusively through neutral face expressions.”

“He talked to me this morning.”

“He returned your hair clip, that’s not talking. Girl, come on.”

You laugh despite yourself, kicking her foot under the table. “Just text me the menu and I’ll go with you next week.”

She sighs heavily as she picks her croissant back up. “Fine. But you owe me details. Not the weird ones, i don't want to know how he fucks. I just want to know...like his last name. I don’t even know his last name.”

You look back toward the other table. Ni-ki is laughing at something Jungwon said, head tipped back slightly, and for a second he looks younger than 21, less like the version of him that presses you against his mattress and more like the version that offered you a cigarette on a rooftop when you were both strangers.

You still don’t know his last name either.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Me neither.”

───

The last class of the day finally ends. By the time the professor dismisses you, the sun has already set down, letting the sky being painted in purple and orange shades.

You don't rush to the parking lot. Something about walking too fast feels like admitting out loud that seeing him was the only thing you were looking forward to the whole day. Which it was.

The lot is mostly empty now, most students cleared out ten minutes ago, desperate to escape. Your sneakers scrape against the concrete as you weave between rows of beat-up sedans and the occasional overcompensating truck. And you finally spot his car.

His black Camaro is parked in the far corner, the one closest to the exit, because of course he needs a quick getaway. The engine is already running ; you can tell by the faint exhaust curling from the back ; and through the windshield you can see him slouched in the driver's seat, one hand resting on the wheel.

His head is tilted down, probably at his phone, and for a second you think about turning around and walking away just to see how long it would take him to notice. But your feet keep moving because you're pathetic like that.

You pull open the passenger door and the warmth hits you immediately ; he always runs the heat even when it's not that cold outside. The leather seat creaks under you as you slide in, tossing your bag between your feet.

Ni-ki doesn't look up right away as he finishes typing something, locks his phone, and only then turns his head toward you.

"You took forever," he says.

"Class ran late."

He hums, unconvinced, but he doesn't push it. He reaches over and pulls your seatbelt across you, not because he's being sweet, but because he's watched you forget it three times now and he's tired of the car beeping.

His knuckles brush your collarbone.

He puts the car in reverse and backs out without checking his blind spot, which should terrify you but doesn't anymore. The parking lot exits onto a side street and then he's merging into traffic, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping against his thigh to some imaginary song.

You watch his profile. The way his jaw is set, the tiny scar near his eyebrow he's never explained, the way his hoodie sleeve falls just right on his wrist.

"So," you say, because sitting in total silence for the whole drive feels like something a hostage would do. "You had a good day?"

He glances at you, and there's something almost amused in his expression. "You don't care about my day."

"Maybe I do."

"You don't." He says it simply, he obviously assumes that you don't actually care about his day because you're only here for one reason. And the worst part is he's not wrong, or maybe he is wrong and you just haven't figured out how to prove it yet.

You look out the window instead. The buildings blur past, a laundromat, a bodega with a faded sign, a bus stop with one tired-looking person waiting. Just normal things.

After a minute, Ni-ki's hand leaves the wheel and lands on your thigh, resting there.

The car keeps moving.

───

His house is too big for one person. That's the same thing you think every time you walk through the front door, and tonight is no different. The entryway alone could fit your entire apartment, and the ceilings are so high you get a little neck cramp looking up at the chandelier that probably costs more than your tuition.

Ni-ki doesn't bother with the lights. He hits a switch near the door and the living room floods with warm overhead light, revealing a space that looks like something out of a magazine ; leather couches, a marble coffee table that's definitely never seen a coffee ring, floor-to-ceiling windows that face a backyard you've only seen once in the dark. Everything is clean.

He kicks off his shoes by the door and you do the same, lining your sneakers up next to his like a silent compromise between his mess and yours.

You're still shrugging off your jacket when he drops onto the massive sectional couch, sprawling across it like a cat going for a nap. His hoodie rides up slightly and you look away because looking at him in that way would feel criminal.

"So," he says, drawing the word out, and there's something in his voice that makes you pause mid-fold of your jacket. "We've done the bed. We've done the floor. We've done the kitchen counter that one time." He tilts his head against the cushion, eyes tracking you across the room. "What about the couch?"

You freeze with your jacket still in your hands.

There's a crease at the corner of his eye that gives him away. He's enjoying this ; the way your shoulders go stiff, the way you suddenly can't look at him directly. The couch is huge and leather and objectively fine, but something about the suggestion makes your face heat anyway. Maybe because it's different, maybe because it feels less like falling into bed and more like something you'd have to think about.

"Don't get shy now," he says, and his voice is lower, teasing but soft underneath. "You literally said yes before I finished asking last time."

"That was something else."

"How?"

You want to answer, but it's embarrassing. You're not shy about him, not really, not anymore. But the couch feels too exposed, too close to the windows, too close to the part of the house where someone could theoretically walk in even though no one ever does. It feels less like a decision and more like a dare.

You drape your jacket over the back of an armchair, stalling. "I'm not shy."

Ni-ki shifts, propping himself up on his elbow. His hair falls over his forehead and he looks annoyingly handsome like this, all loose limbs and lazy confidence. "Yeah? Then come here."

Three words. And your feet move before your brain catches up. He doesn't even have to beg, when he just says things like they've already happened and waits for you to catch up, knowing you will eventually.

You stop at the edge of the couch, looking down at him. He looks back up at you, and his expression softens a little.

"Or we can go upstairs," he says, and it's not a concession.

You hate how easy it is for him to make you feel seen.

You sit down on the edge of the couch, close enough that your knee touches his thigh. "The couch is fine."

His eyebrow goes up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His hand finds your waist anyway, pulling you closer until you're half-draped across his chest, and the leather creaks beneath you both. His heart is steady under your palm but yours is not.

"Liar," he murmurs against your hair.

He's right. You are shy, and a really bad liar.

The walk up to his bedroom feels longer than it should, the anticipation is buzzing under your skin. You’re practically vibrating with nervous energy as Ni-ki unlocks the massive door and pushes it open. The room is dark and spacious, lit only by the soft glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He immediately reaches for the hem of his oversized hoodie, yanking it over his head and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. The sight of his bare chest stops you in your tracks. You feel a sudden, overwhelming wave of shyness wash over you, your cheeks flushing hot as you avert your gaze, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed.

"Why are you getting shy again?" Ni-ki asks, his voice low and amused as he steps closer, invading your personal space. He tilts his head, his eyes studying your face intently. "You’re not usually like this. What’s up?"

You look up at him, your voice barely a whisper. "Can we...go soft this time?" you ask, feeling vulnerable. He pauses, a glint of confusion crossing his face, but he nods slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"Okay," he says, his voice dropping an octave lower. "I'll be soft."

He pulls you in by the waist, his hands warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension building between you. He presses you gently against the doorframe, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. His hands wander down your back, his fingers digging into your flesh, but you don't want to rush. You want to feel every inch of him, dragging this out.

You kiss him back, your tongues tangling together, a slow and deep exploration. His hands slide up your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands move to the waistband of your pants, his fingers teasing the button and zipper. You shiver as he undoes them, letting them pool around your ankles, and you step out of them, kicking them aside.

He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently, the mattress sinking beneath you. He climbs on top of you, his weight pressing you into the sheets. He kisses you again, his lips moving from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck, his tongue flicking over your sensitive skin. You arch your back, giving him more access, his hands exploring your body, mapping out every curve and dip.

He moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. He pulls them down slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He parts your legs, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasp, your hips bucking slightly as he touches you there.

He leans down and spreads your legs wider, his fingers sliding into you. He begins to finger you, his movements slow and pleasant, his fingers curling inside you, searching for that sweet spot. You moan his name, your hands gripping a pillow beside you. He adds a second finger, stretching you, his thumb rubbing against your clit. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss. He looks up at you before bringing his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them. "Sweet, huh?" he says, smiling, before moving up to kiss you again.

He positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locking onto yours. He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, filling you completely. You gasp, his eyes rolling back slightly as he stretches you. He stays there for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, the friction building between you. "Tell me if it hurts."

"It's okay." You barely could answer.

He begins to move. He watches your face, wanting to see every reaction you have to him. He kisses you deeply, the kiss matching the pace of his hips. The feeling of him filling you up is overwhelming, the sensation of being so full and stretched is intense.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, encouraging him to go faster, but he holds back, his pace steady and controlled. He wants to make this last. He focuses on the sensations, the heat between your bodies.

He pulls out slightly, then pushes back in, his eyes never leaving yours. He leans down and kisses your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan his name, the sound echoing in the room. He smiles against your skin, a small, satisfied smile, knowing he’s making you feel good.

He picks up the pace just a little, his thrusts becoming a little more urgent, but still slow. He wants to be inside you for as long as possible. The friction is delicious, sending sparks flying through your body. He kisses you again, his tongue tangling with yours, the taste of you driving him wild.

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your muscles tightening around him. You look up at him, your eyes glazed with pleasure. "Ni-ki," you breathe out, your voice breathless and ragged. "I'm going to come," you whisper.

He nods, his eyes locking onto yours, and he keeps thrusting, his pace remaining steady, but he focuses on the spot that makes you see stars. You cry out his name as you unravel, your body clamping down on him. He follows moments later, his hips bucking against yours as he releases inside you, filling you completely.

He stays inside you for a long time, the silence of the room broken only by your ragged breathing. He leans down and kisses your forehead, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. "Fuck...that was good," he says, his voice quiet and tired.

He reaches for the bedside table and pulls out a small baggie and a lighter. He packs a bowl, taking a long drag, and then offers it to you.

You take a hit, your lungs filling with the smoke, and you cough slightly. He laughs, his chest vibrating against your back. He leans over you, blowing the smoke directly on your face. He pulls back, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Come closer," he whispers, his voice husky. He blows another cloud of smoke into your mouth, sealing it with a kiss. You feel the smoke swirl in your mouth and then pass it back to him, the taste of weed and mint mixing on your tongues.

"Ayy, that was kinda cool," he says, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb.

"Was it?" you ask, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah," he says, his eyes darkening. "You should come over more often."

You just smile, content and relaxed, feeling the weight of the day melting away.

The bedroom is a mess of tangled blankets and discarded clothes by the time you both settle into the quiet evening. The floor lamp in the corner casts everything in a golden glow, just enough to see the shape of his arm resting above his head, the way his chest rises and falls.

You're on your back, staring at the ceiling, your shirt thrown somewhere near the night table.

Ni-ki hasn't moved to touch you. His hand is draped off the edge of the bed, fingers grazing the floor, and he's looking at the wall with that blank expression that could mean anything or nothing.

You don't know why you ask it and the words just fall out.

"Have you ever thought about getting a girlfriend?"

It sounds almost too casual. You keep your eyes on the ceiling so you don't have to see his reaction.

For a moment he doesn't answer. Then you feel him shift beside you, the mattress dipping slightly as he props himself up on one elbow. When you glance over, he's looking down at you with something unreadable on his face.

"What kind of question is that?" he says.

You shrug with one shoulder. "Just wondering."

He's quiet again, and you think maybe he's going to ignore it, change the subject or reach for his phone like he usually does. He exhales through his nose, almost a laugh, and runs a hand through his hair.

"There's this girl," he says, and your stomach drops. "She keeps calling me, texts me like three times a week. She wants to come over and fuck again."

You keep your face neutral. "And ?"

"And I don't really want to. She's kind of annoying, to be honest." He pauses, tilting his head like he's considering something. "But I might consider it. It kinda gets boring doing the same thing all the time."

The same thing. You. He means you.

Your jaw tenses and you look back at the ceiling because if you look at him right now, he'll see it ; the glint of something stupid. Jealousy. Over a girl you don't even know, over a guy who isn't yours and has never pretended to be.

You swallow it down. "So do it then," you say, and your voice comes out steady. "Not like we're exclusive."

"Exactly." He says it so easily.

There's a beat of silence. He shifts again, and you feel his gaze on your profile.

"What about you," he says. "You ever want a relationship? Like, one day."

The question catches you off guard. He's never asked you anything personal before. The closest he's gotten was asking if you wanted water that one time, and even that felt like an accident.

You should say yes. I mean you do want one. Just not with someone else. Maybe with him. But that's not what he's asking and you know it.

"No," you say, and the lie tastes bitter. "That's too much work."

He stares at you for a second longer before he drops back onto the mattress, arm going over his eyes. "Yeah," he says, voice muffled. "Same."

You lie there in the darkening room, his body warm next to yours but not touching, and you listen to the silence stretch.

He reaches for his phone on the floor and you reach for your shirt.

That's how it goes.

───

Friday afternoon, the sky is gray and it looks like it might rain but probably won't. You find yourself climbing the stairs to the rooftop before you've fully decided to go there. The pack of cigarettes in your pocket feels like an excuse, but it's the only one you have.

The door creaks when you push it open, and the air hits you instantly, a little damp, carrying the distant sound of traffic from the main road. You step out onto the gravel, lighter already in your hand.

Ni-ki is already there, leaning against the railing at the edge of the roof, the same spot where you first met him 8 months ago. His back is to you, shoulders hunched, a thin curl of smoke rising from between his fingers. He doesn't turn around when the door closes behind you. Either he didn't hear or he doesn't care.

For a second you think about leaving, turning around and going back down the stairs, pretending you never came up here. But your feet don't move, and neither does he, so you walk over to the opposite side of the railing and lean against it a few feet away.

You pull out a cigarette, light it and take a drag. The smoke burns on the way down.

Neither of you speaks for a long minute. The wind picks up, ruffling his hair, and he finally glances sideways at you. His eyes look tired, you already know he hasn't been sleeping at all.

"You smoke too much," he says, not even greeting you.

"So do you."

He huffs something that might be a laugh but it's hollow. He turns back to look at the skyline, the cluster of buildings and trees and the far-off blur of the highway. His jaw is tight, you could see it.

You should leave it alone. That's the agreement ; you don't do feelings, you don't do problems, you just do each other's bodies and then go home. But something about how his shoulders are set like he's holding something heavy, makes the words come out anyway.

"You okay?"

He takes a long drag, holds it and exhales. The smoke gets carried away by the wind.

"My parents," he says finally, and his voice is flat. "They want to cut me off."

You wait. He doesn't elaborate so you push. "Cut you off from what?"

"Everything." He flicks ash onto the gravel. "Money. My car. My card. All of it." A pause. "They say I've been doing bad things with it. That I'm out of control."

You can guess ; the late nights, the people he knows, the way his eyes look red sometimes when he picks you up. You've never asked before,it never felt like your place.

"So what are you going to do?" you say.

He looks at you then and there's something sharp in his expression. "What am I supposed to do? Get a job that I don't even like? Work at a café like a normal person?" He says it like the words taste bad.

You take a drag, thinking. "Maybe you could talk to them. Explain that—"

"I'm not explaining anything." His voice is harder now. "They don't listen. They never have. They just throw money at problems and then get mad when the problems don't magically disappear."

"Okay, but if they take the car, how are you going to—"

"I don't know." He cuts you off, pushing off from the railing and turning to face you fully. His cigarette is burning down between his fingers.

You take another drag. "You could...I don't know, sell some stuff? Or try to— "

"You don't get it."

His voice cuts through yours sharper than you expected. You turn to look at him. He's still facing forward, but his shoulders are tense now, his hand gripping the edge of the railing.

"I'm not saying I get it," you say carefully. "I'm just trying to help."

"Help." He says the word like an offense. "You can't help. You don't know what it's like to have everything and then have it pulled away. To have people look at you like you're just a spoiled kid who fucks up and that's all you'll ever be." His eyes are darker than usual. "You don't come from that. You don't understand."

It stings. Not because he's wrong about your background, he's not, you've never hidden that you're on scholarships and financial aid but because he's shutting you out in that particular way he does, it makes you feel like you're on the other side of a wall you can't climb.

"I'm not trying to fix it," you say, quieter now. "I just care. That's all."

He stares at you for a long second. His expression flickers, something almost vulnerable, almost soft, and then it's totally gone.

"Care," he repeats. "We're not close, Y/N. We fuck and that's it. You don't have to pretend like there's more, you know?."

He pauses. "I know what you're trying to do." His voice drops. "But you can't. You don't have parents like mine. You don't have...you live in a normal apartment and you worry about normal things. I can't just 'talk to them.' I can't just 'figure it out.' It's not the same."

Your chest tightens, you want to argue, you want to tell him about the hair clip, about the hundred small things that felt like something when you knew it didn't at all.

But you don't. Because he's right, isn't he? That's what you agreed to.

He drops his cigarette, grinds it out under his shoe, and stands. He doesn't look at you again.

You open your mouth to say something but he's already stepping back, dropping his cigarette to the gravel and grinding it out with his shoe.

"Forget it," he says. "I shouldn't have said anything."

He walks past you. The rooftop door creaks open, then shut.

You're alone.

The cigarette in your hand has burned down to the filter. You drop it, watch the last wisp of smoke rise up into the gray sky, and you don't follow him.

That's not your role and it never was.

───

The sand is hot enough to burn your feet by the time you and Jess find a spot near the water. You spread your towels out, anchor them with bags and a half empty bottle of sunscreen, and Jess immediately starts complaining about the seagulls.

"It's fine," you say, pulling your shirt over your head. "They're not gonna attack you."

"You don't know that."

You're about to respond when a volleyball smacks into the sand a few feet away from your towel. Jess jumps in surprise and you look up.

Jay is jogging toward you, already laughing, hand raised in apology. Behind him, Jake is doubled over for some reason, Jungwon is heading towards the shores, and further back, near the water, Ni-ki is standing with his hands in his shorts pockets, watching the horizon.

"Sorry," Jay says, grabbing the ball. "Jake's aim is ass today."

"Jake's aim is always ass," Jess says with a smile. She's known Jay since high school, and some habits don't fade.

Jay waves toward the others. "You guys wanna hang out? We've got a net set up. Well, Jake found a net. We're not sure where it came from though."

You glance at Jess and she shrugs.

"Yeah, okay," you say.

Walking over feels like walking into something you're not prepared for. The sand is soft, slipping under your feet with every step. Jake waves when he sees you. Jungwon is already in the water up to his knees, ignoring everyone. And Ni-ki is standing slightly apart from the group, not looking at you, which is fine because you're not looking at him either.

You haven't talked since yesterday at the rooftop, since he left you there with your cigarette burning down to nothing.

So you don't look at him and he doesn't look at you.

"We should play," Jake says, grabbing the ball from Jay. "Let’s make teams. Y/N, you're with me."

"You're gonna lose," Jess says.

"Bold talk from someone who hasn't touched a volleyball since middle school."

Jess flips him off.

The game is messy, no one really knows the rules except Jay, who keeps trying to enforce them, and Jungwon who doesn't care. You're next to Jake, which means you're laughing more than you're playing because he keeps making stupid comments every time he misses the ball.

"That was on purpose," he says after a ball flies past his head.

"Sure it was."

"I was just testing your reflexes."

You roll your eyes and serve. The ball actually goes over the net, it feels like a miracle. Ni-ki is on the other side, you realize. He misses it and watches it land in the sand next to him.

Jake whoops. "Good job Y/N."

The game ends when someone (no one knows who) decides it's over. Jess is already walking toward the water, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail. Jay follows her.

"Race you," Jake says, and he's already running before you can answer.

You run after him because you're competitive, and the water is cold when it hits your shin, colder when you fall forward trying to dodge a wave. Jake is laughing at you, so you push water at his face.

You two have a full on play fight right there in the shallows, splashing, shoving, Jake grabbing your wrist to spin you around. He's stronger than he looks, but he's also not holding that hard, so you manage to shove him back once, twice. His foot slips on a rock and he goes down, half sitting in the water, still laughing.

"Oh you're so dead," he says.

"You already are."

He lunges for your ankle and you stumble, catching yourself on his shoulder. For a second you're both just standing there, out of breath, water dripping down your faces.

Jake is still loosely holding your wrist.

"You fight dirty," he says.

"Just admit you're slow."

He laughs and lets go, wading deeper, already turning to find Jay.

You look toward the shore without meaning to. Ni-ki is standing at the edge of the water, watching the whole scene. His arms are crossed. His expression is blank.

You hold his gaze for a second but he looks away first.

Jess appears next to you, hair soaked and grinning. "Jake's gonna ask you out by the end of the summer. Watch it."

"He's not."

"Did you see the way he looked at you the whole time ?."

"It was a play fight."

Jess gives you a look. "Sure. And Ni-ki is definitely not standing over there looking like he wants to punch someone."

You glance back at the shore. Ni-ki is walking toward the towels, not toward the water. His steps are quick.

"Hey," Jay calls out. "You’re getting in or what?"

Ni-ki doesn't stop. "Got stuff to do."

"We’re at the beach. What stuff?"

He doesn't answer and grabs his shirt from his bag, shakes the sand off, and starts walking toward the parking lot.

Jake watches him go, frowning. "What's his deal?"

No one answers. Jay looks at you.

"I'm gonna go get some water," you say, because you don't know what else to say.

Jess grabs your arm before you can move. "Don't."

"What?"

"You're gonna chase after him. I can see it on your face. And he's just gonna say something shitty and you're gonna feel worse."

You pull your arm back. "I'm not going to chase after him."

"Okay."

"I'm not."

She holds her hands up. "Okay."

You stand in the water, salt drying on your skin, and watch the spot where his car was parked until the space is empty. Jess is right. You'd only feel worse, but it doesn’t matter since you already do.

───

The door to your apartment clicks shut behind you and you drop your beach bag on the floor, sand already spilling out onto the tiles. Your shoulders are pink from the sun, your hair still damp and tangled with salt, and all you want is a cold shower and an unhealthy amount of time of scrolling on your phone.

You plug your phone in first because it died somewhere between the volleyball game and the drive home. The screen lights up after a few seconds, and you blink at the notification.

13 missed calls.

All from the same number. It’s unknown.

Your first thought is spam. Your second thought is a wrong number. Your third thought, the one you don't want to acknowledge, is him.

You hesitate for a moment, thumb hovering over the call button, you press “call”.

The line rings four time before going to voicemail. A generic automated voice telling you to leave a message. You hang up without saying anything.

You're about to toss the phone onto your bed when it rings again. The same number. You answer. For a few seconds, no one speaks. There's just a slow and uneven breathing, and something in the background that sounds like a TV.

"Hello?" you say.

Still nothing, so you decide to assume that it’s him.

"I know it's you," you say. "You called me thirteen times. You can at least say something."

A pause and you hear his voice, low and slurred around the edges. "Hey."

Ni-ki.

You close your eyes and lean against your bedroom wall. "You okay?"

"Define okay."

"You're high."

"I guess so."

You can hear him exhale, long and slow, probably smoke. It’s definitely weed. His words are sticky, running into each other like he's thinking too hard about each one before it leaves his mouth.

"I didn't like it," he says suddenly. "Today. At the beach."

Your chest tightens. "Didn't like what?"

"You know what. The way you were with Jake. All close and laughing and..." He trails off, and you hear him take another drag. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I don't care. You do whatever you want."

"You just said you didn't like it."

"I said it doesn't matter."

The line goes quiet for a moment. You can picture him ; probably sprawled on that massive leather couch in his empty living room, the high ceilings and the chandelier that cost at least a kidney. One hand holding the phone, the other holding whatever he's smoking. His eyes half-closed, looking like a hot disaster.

"I really need you right now," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word.

Your heart does a flip.

"That's not fair," you say quietly.

"I’m sorry."

"You can't just call me when you're high and say stuff like that."

"I know."

Silence. The sound of the TV in the background on his end. You can hear your own breathing.

"Can you come over?" he asks, and he sounds smaller than you've ever heard him. Needy like he never lets himself be. "Please."

You could’ve say no, tell him to sleep it off and call you in the morning when he's sober and less likely to say things he'll pretend didn't happen. You have to protect yourself for once.

And here you are, already grabbing your keys.

───

The drive takes twenty minutes. His house is dark when you pull into the driveway, the only light coming from somewhere deeper inside. The front door is unlocked as it always is, and you let yourself in, kicking off your sandals by the entryway.

The living room is a mess. Everything is scattered. There’s a blanket on the floor, empty glasses on the coffee table and his hoodie draped over the arm of the couch. And there he is, slouched in the corner of the sectional, phone on the cushion beside him, a half smoked joint balanced on the edge of an ashtray.

His eyes are red and his hair is a mess. He looks up at you when you walk in and something in his expression changes. It’s relief, you might think.

"There’s no way you really came," he says like he's surprised.

"You called me thirteen times."

"Right."

You drop your bag by the door and walk over to him. The coffee table has a pitcher of water and some takeout containers from somewhere you don't recognize. You push them aside and sit on the edge of the couch, facing him.

"You're an asshole," you say.

"Yeah."

"Like, genuinely an asshole."

He's not arguing back so that's how you know he's really high.

You reach out and take the joint from the ashtray, stubbing it out even though there's still some left. He watches your hands, your fingers, the way you're sitting close enough that your knee almost touches his.

"When did you eat last?" you ask.

He blinks at you like the question requires calculus. "I don't know. Lunch?"

"It's almost ten."

"Oh."

You sigh and stand up, heading toward the kitchen. His kitchen is massive and spotless and useless because he barely uses it. You find bread, peanut butter, a banana that's not too brown. You make him a sandwich without asking if he wants one because he's not in a state to make good decisions. When you come back, he hasn't moved an inch. You hand him the plate and he stares at it for a second before taking it.

"Eat," you say.

"You're bossy when you're annoyed."

"I'm always annoyed. You just don't notice."

He takes a bite, chews and swallows. His eyes stay on you the whole time.

You sit back down, closer this time, and you watch him eat until half the sandwich is gone. You take the plate away and set it on the coffee table.

"Water," you say, pouring a glass from the pitcher. You hand it to him and he drinks. When he's done, he sets the glass down and leans his head back against the couch, eyes closed. His breathing is slower now.

"You didn't have to come, you know." he says.

"You asked me to."

"Yeah. But you didn't have to."

You look at him ; the dark circles, the dried salt on his skin from the beach he barely touched, the way his hands are trembling just slightly. He's a mess. He's always been a mess, yet he's sitting here, in this big empty house, and he called you. Amongst everyone he knew, he called you.

"Yeah, well," you say quietly. "I'm here anyway so..."

He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you. His gaze is heavy and unfocused.

"You're gonna stay?" he asks. "For a bit?"

You have to go home, because you have class tomorrow. Your hair is still damp from the ocean and you're tired and you know that staying will only make things more complicated.

"Yeah," you say. "For a bit."

He shifts on the couch, making room, and you take the hint. You sit next to him, close enough that your shoulder presses against his arm, and he doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

After a few minutes, his head drops onto your shoulder. His breathing evens out. He's not asleep, heavy and warm against you.

You stare at the dark windows, the empty room, the ghost of smoke curling from the ashtray.

This isn't going to fix anything. You know that and he knows that. But for now, he's not pushing you away, so everything feels fine.

The high wears off slowly. You notice that his breathing changes, it’s less shallow and more present. His fingers stop trembling too. His head lifts from your shoulder and he blinks at the room like he's seeing it for the first time.

He's still loose, still soft around the edges, but he's coming back to himself. You can feel it.

"You okay?" you ask.

He nods, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Yeah. Starting to feel human again."

"Good."

A silence settles between you, he turns his head, looking at you with those half-lidded eyes, and his voice is quieter when he speaks. "Did you shower yet? After the beach?"

You glance down at yourself. Your skin still has salt residue, your hair is stiff with dried seawater. "No. I came straight here."

He's quiet for a moment. "We could take a bath."

You look at him. His expression isn't teasing like usual, and it’s almost soft.

"A bath ?" you repeat.

"Uh yeah. The tub's big enough." There’s a pause. "We don't have to do anything. I just—I don't want to be alone right now."

That's the most honest thing he's said all night.

You nod. "Okay."

───

Even if you were already used to every corner of his house, you’d never get over how huge his bathroom is. Marble floors, a tub that could fit three people, candles on the counter that he never lights. He runs the water while you sit on the edge of the sink, watching him test the temperature with his wrist.

He's still in his beach clothes ; shorts, a loose t-shirt and a silver chain with a cross that he never takes off. You're in your bikini top and the oversized button-up you threw on over it.

When the tub is full, he turns off the water and looks at you. "You first."

You slide off the sink and step toward the tub, suddenly aware of how exposed you feel even though you've done much more than this with him. You take off your button-up and step out of your shorts, leaving your bikini on the floor. He does the same ; he pulls his shirt over his head, kicks off his shorts and his boxers.

The water is warm, almost too warm, and you sink into it with a sigh. The salt washes off your skin immediately, and you can feel your muscles relaxing. He gets in behind you, settling against the end of the tub, his legs on either side of yours.

For a minute, neither of you speaks. The water ripples softly. A candle flickers, he must have lit it while you weren't looking. You can feel him shifting, moving closer, and his arms come around your waist from behind. He pulls you back against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You freeze for half a second. He's never done this before. The fact of having this kind of moment with him doesn’t even feel real to you. You two have been intimate in so many ways but never like this.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, breath warm against your neck.

"Yeah," you whisper. "It's okay."

His arms tighten slightly, holding you a little closer. You lean your head back against his shoulder and close your eyes.

This is new and terrifying. This is everything you've wanted without letting yourself admit it, but you know that things like that don’t really last. So you have to accept it.

───

The water starts to cool after a while, his thumb is tracing shapes on your stomach, absent-minded.

You think about what brought you here and how he sounded so small when he said he needed you.

"Ni-ki," you say quietly.

"Mm?"

You hesitate. You don't want to ruin whatever this is. But it's been sitting in your chest since all the times you've watched him disappear into himself.

"Those friends of yours that you mentioned before," you say. "The ones who got you into this stuff."

His hand stops moving.

"I'm not trying to start a fight," you add quickly. "I’m just worrying about you. You said they owe you money…And they're always pushing you to do more."

He's quiet for a long moment.

"They're not in my life anymore," he says finally.

You turn your head slightly, trying to see his face. "What?"

"I cut them off, like, a few weeks ago." His voice is steady and clearer. "They weren't friends. They just wanted someone to pay for everything and someone to get high with. I got tired of it."

You don't know what to say. He's never told you this or anything.

"Why didn't you say something?" you ask.

He shrugs, the movement rippling the water. "Didn't seem important."

"Not important? Ni-ki, they were using you."

"I know but," He presses his cheek against your hair. "That's why I stopped answering their calls. They'll figure it out."

You turn in his arms so you're facing him, knees on either side of his hips, water sloshing against the edges of the tub. His face is inches from yours. You can see that his eyes are tired.

"And the money they owe you?" you ask.

"It's just money." He says it like it means nothing. Or maybe to him, it doesn't. "I'd rather lose that than keep pretending they gave a shit about me."

Your hands find his shoulders, thumbs brushing over his collarbones and he lets you touch him.

"You're not going to fall back into that?" you ask. "When things get hard again?"

He looks at you for a long time.

"No," he says. "You’re here anyway. Everything feels different."

Your heart cracks a little.

"You can't rely on me to fix you," you force yourself to say, because you have to say it, you've seen too many people drown trying to save someone else.

"Y/N," He cups your face with one hand, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "I'm not asking you to fix me. I…I don't want to be alone anymore. It scares me more than you think."

The water is barely warm now. Your knees are starting to ache from the position.

"Okay," you whisper.

He smiles at you softly, and you nearly thought it meant something.

"We should get out," he says. "The water's cold."

"Yeah."

He pulls the plug and grabs a towel from the rack, wrapping it around your shoulders before his own. You step out of the tub together, dripping on the marble floor.

───

7:12 AM and your phone is rattling against the wood of your nighstand like it's trying to wake the dead. You grope for it blindly, eyes half-open and your brain still somewhere in a dream you can't even remember.

Ni-ki's name on the screen.

You answer. "Hello?"

"You sound like shit." His voice is rough like he hasn't slept either.

"Thanks. It's fucking seven in the morning."

"Well, no shit. Get dressed, I'm picking you up in twenty."

You sit up, rubbing your face. The memories from two nights ago flicker through your mind ; the bath, his arms around you. You brush it off as soon as the reality catches you.

You push it all down. "For what?"

"Does it matter?"

You're too tired to fight back. And a part of you, the stupid part, just wants to see his face.

"Fine," you say. "Twenty minutes."

He hangs up with no goodbye. Of course.

You throw on jeans and a sweater, brush your teeth. When you hear the engine outside, low and guttural, you grab your bag and head out. It's not the black Camaro. It's a Mustang GT ; sleek, black, newer than anything you've ever sat in. He's leaning against the driver's door, arms crossed, wearing a leather jacket and that same blank expression.

"New car?" you ask.

"Yeah, got bored of the old one." He opens the passenger door for you. "Get in."

The interior smells new and fresh. You buckle up as he slides into the driver's seat and pulls away from the curb without checking his blind spot. Some things never change. The city is waking up around you, coffee shops opening, joggers on the sidewalk.

You watch his profile, observing the sharp line of his jaw and his thumbs tap against the steering wheel like he usually does everytime he drives.

"You're staring," he says without looking at you.

" Am I not allowed ?"

He doesn't respond to that.

You take a breath. "Ni-ki."

"What."

"Why are you so cold sometimes?"

The question hangs in the air between you. His fingers tighten on the steering wheel before he relaxes.

"You think I'm cold?" he asks.

"Sometimes. You disappear, you push me away and...you say things you don't mean or you don't say anything at all." You're watching his face, looking for a crack. "I just want to know why."

He stays quiet for a long moment. The car slows at a red light and he finally glances at you. His eyes are tired again, that's how you know he smoked on the drive over.

Unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth twitches.

"You're cute when you're curious," he says.

"That's not an answer."

"Well," The light turns green, he accelerates. "I'll work on it."

───

The mall is mostly empty this early. A few senior citizens walking laps around the food court, some moms with strollers, employees unlocking gates. Ni-ki walks next to you, hands in his pockets. His presence is heavy but not uncomfortable. You wander past stores without really looking until one catches your eye ; a vintage thrift shop, the expensive kind with every luxury brands where clothes are curated and priced like art pieces.

You step inside more out of curiosity than intention. The racks are organized by color, the lighting warm, and there's a section in the back with dresses probably worn by celebrities considaring their prices.

Your fingers trail over the fabric ; silk, lace, velvet. One of them catches your eyes. A black dress, slip style but not cheap. It makes you think of old Hollywood movies and rooftop parties in the 60s. The price tag is tucked inside, and when you pull it out you actually laugh.

"300 dollars," you say, turning to Ni-ki. "For a thrifted dress."

He's standing a few feet away, watching you with a neutral expression. "Do you want it?"

"I want a lot of things I can't afford."

"That's not what I asked."

You look back at the dress, running your fingers over the fabric again. "It's gorgeous. But no. It's stupid to spend that much."

He pulls the dress off the rack and walks toward the counter without saying a word.

"Ni-ki. What are you doing?"

"Buying the dress."

"No. Ni-ki, come b─."

He ignores you, pulling out his wallet. The cashier, a girl with pink hair, looks between the two of you with mild amusement.

"Sir, would you like a bag?"

"Yes."

"Ni-ki, I'm serious." You grab his arm, but he doesn't stop. "You can't just buy me things like this."

He turns to look at you, and his face is softer than you expected. "Why not?"

"Because—" You don't even exactly know why. Maybe because it's too much or because it looks like it means something. He nods toward the rack, toward a deep red dress you didn't even realize you touched earlier. "You looked at that one first," he says. "I saw you run your fingers over it before you picked up the black one."

You blink. "You noticed that?"

"You touched it for like five seconds. I have to buy it now."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Too bad then." He tells the cashier to add the red dress too. She does, wrapping both in tissue paper.

You stand there, mouth slightly open, watching him pay nearly six hundred dollars for two dresses you never asked for.

"Try them on," he says, handing you the bag. "If you don't like them, we'll return them."

You stare at him and he stares back.

"Fine," you mutter, grabbing the bag and heading toward the fitting room.

The room is small, with a full-length mirror and a velvet stool. You pull off your jeans and sweater and slide the black dress over your head. It falls perfectly, hitting just above the knee, hugging your waist, the fabric cool against your skin. You turn in the mirror, and for a second, you don't recognize yourself.

You step out of the fitting room.

Ni-ki is leaning against the wall across from the door, phone in hand. His eyes lift to you, and something shifts in his face. His jaw goes slack for just a moment.

"Well?" you ask, suddenly self conscious.

He looks at you ; up and down, slow, like he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

"You look," he starts then suddenly pauses. "It's fine."

"Just fine?"

He pushes off the wall and walks toward you, close enough that you have to tilt your head up to see his face.

"I should return it," he says, there's a teasing edge to his voice now.

"Why?"

"I don't really feel like fighting someone today."

Your face heats. "Shut up."

"I'm dead serious."

"Stop acting like that."

He almost smiles. "Keep the dress. Both of them."

───

The park is small, tucked between a residential street and a community garden. You're sitting on a bench near the pond, ice cream cones in hand ; his is chocolate, yours is strawberry. The sun is higher now, warm enough to make you take off your sweater.

He eats his ice cream in silence, staring at the water. You watch a duck paddle in circles.

"So," he says, not looking at you. "You and Jake seem close."

Your spoon pauses halfway to your mouth. "We're friends."

"Friends." He says lowly. "You were pretty cozy at the beach. I mean, sharing towels...wrestling in the water, all of that."

You narrow your eyes. "Are you jealous?"

He scoffs. "No."

"You're deflecting."

"I can't be observant ?" He casually takes a bite of his ice cream. "Just saying. He's around a lot."

"He's your friend too."

"Yeah, but he doesn't look at me the way he looks at you."

"Nothing's going on with Jake," you say finally.

He shrugs. "Doesn't matter. You do what you want."

There it is again ; that same line he always falls back on. He's always trying to make it sound normal but it comes out like a permission, you're always feeling like it's a test he's making you take.

"I don't want anything with Jake," you say. "I want—" You stop yourself.

He looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

You look away. "Never mind."

The ice cream drips onto your fingers.

"You have ice cream," he says.

"Where?"

He leans in.

His lips are cold from the chocolate, but his tongue is warm when it swipes across the corner of your mouth. You freeze, and you find him kissing you, deep and slow, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. It's not the kind of kiss you share in public, so obviously it surprises you.

When he pulls back, you're breathless. You can feel your face burning.

"What was that for?" you manage.

He shrugs, excluding the fact that his ears are pink. "You had ice cream on your mouth."

"That's not a fucking way to wipe off ice cream."

"It is now."

You stare at him and he stares back, expression carefully neutral, nethertheless you can see the cracks. His fingers are still resting on your neck and he's not pulling away.

"You're such a jerk," you whisper.

"Yeah," he says. "Might get strawberry next time."

You shove him in the chest in embarassement, which made him chuckle slightly.

All of this is not making you think about unanswered calls, the days where he decides to be insanely cold or whether he's going to push you away again. So you try to enjoy it as much as you can.

The sun has dropped behind the trees. The bench has gone from comfortable to uncomfortable about an hour ago. Your tailbone is starting to ache and you've shifted positions at least six times, each time less effective than the last.

"I'm bored," you announce.

Ni-ki glances at you from the other end of the bench, one arm stretched along the back, his ice cream cone long gone. "You're always bored."

"Come on, it's been an hour since we sat here."

He watches you with a half-lidded expression. You stand up and brush off the back of your jeans. "There's a playground over there. Let's go."

"A playground." He says flatly, unimpressed by your idea.

"Yeah. You know...swings, slides, kids stuff. Don't tell me you're too cool for swings."

He doesn't agree yet he stands up anyway.

The playground is maybe fifty meters from the bench, a small fenced area with wood chips instead of sand, a plastic slide that's seen better days, and a set of swings hanging from a metal frame. The chains squeak slightly when the wind blows.

You make a beeline for the swings, feet crunching on the wood chips, and plant yourself on the closest one. The rubber seat is cold through your jeans. You grip the chains and kick off just a little.

"Push me," you say, looking back at him.

He's standing at the edge of the wood chips, hands in his pockets, watching you like you from afar. "Push yourself, you're not a kid."

"That's not the point."

He sighs ; a theatrical and put-upon sound ; but he walks over anyway. He positions himself behind you, hands hovering near your lower back for a moment before he gives a firm shove. The swing arcs forward, the chains rattling, and you let out a small laugh. The air rushes past your face. Behind you, he pushes again, harder this time.

"You know," he says, voice carrying over the squeak of the chains, "I've seen this before. Like in a movie. A guy pushes a girl on the swing. Very romantic."

"It's not that romantic. Trust."

"Mm." There's another push. "In the movie, they usually end up doing it in the bushes after."

You kick your feet out, trying to go higher. "What ?"

"You heard it right."

"You're disgusting."

"You're the one who wanted to come here."

He pushes one more time before he steps back. The swing slows gradually, the arc shrinking until you're just swaying. He walks around and sits down on the swing beside you, the chains groaning under his weight. He's taller than you so his legs stretch out longer, boots dragging in the wood chips.

"Be careful," he says, watching you swing forward again. "You're gonna flip over the bar."

"I'm not even that high."

"You could be."

"You worry too much."

He shakes his head. "I just don't want you to stain my new car if you get yourself hurt."

You push off again, swinging higher this time, the chains straining. The wind whistles past your ears. For a second you feel like you could lift right off the seat and keep going.

"See?" you call out. "I'm fine."

"You're gonna eat shit."

"I don't care."

It's a challenge and he hears it. You see him tense from the corner of your eye. You can feel that he's off his swing, boots crunching toward you, and before you can swing back again, his hands are on your waist.

He catches you mid-arc, steadying you, slowing the momentum. His fingers press into your sides through your sweater. The swing creaks to a halt, your feet finding the wood chips, his body so close that you could feel the heat radiating through his leather jacket.

"I know you care," he says quietly. "You just pretend you don't."

You're looking up at him, your hands still on the chains and his on your waist. The sky is almost dark now and a single light on the playground flickers to life somewhere behind him.

"I don't know," you say. "Maybe I learned from the best."

His thumbs press into your waist, just slightly. Something in his face softens.

"Come on," he says, letting go and stepping back. "It's getting dark."

He doesn't wait for you, already walking toward the path, hands back in his pockets, back to his usual distance.

You watch him for a second, then push off the swing one last time, just to feel the air rush past.

He stops and looks back at you. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah," you say, hopping off the swing. "I'm coming."

───

One week after, and he disappeared again without a single text, like he always did, but this time it hurt more than usual. It would've hurt less if you haven't hang out with him like there was a title for what you were for each other. But here you are. The lecture hall is half-empty because it's Friday and no one wants to be here, including the professor. You're slouched in your seat while Jess doodles in the margin of her notebook. The guy in front of you is watching YouTube on his laptop with the brightness all the way down. No one seems to care today.

Your phone buzzes against the desk. You glance at the screen. ‘Ni-ki’

Ni-ki [10:22 AM]

going out of town for the weekend

you can fuck anyone u want

don’t wait for me.

You stare at it for a while. You don't know what to say because there's nothing to say. Why is he giving you permission for something you never asked permission for ?

Jess notices your face. "What?"

You turn the phone toward her. She reads it, and her expression shifts from curious to annoyed.

"That's weird," she says quietly.

"Yeah."

"He found another chick, maybe." She chuckled before going back to her doodles.

You lock the phone and set it face-down on the desk. The rest of the lecture drags and sit there, replaying the message in your head, trying to figure out what it actually means.

───

After class, you wait until you're outside, standing under the covered walkway where the smokers hang out. Jess lingers nearby, pretending to check her phone but definitely listening.

You call him.

It rings four times. You think he's going to ignore it, but then he picks up.

"Hey." His voice is flat, sounding like he’s distracted.

"Ni-ki." You grip your phone tighter. "What was that message?"

"What message."

"The one about me fucking whoever I want."

You hear him exhale ; he’s smoking a cigarette. "Just saying. You have options."

"I don't want options."

He's quiet for a second. "Why not?"

The question catches you off guard. You expected him to brush it off, to say it was nothing, to change the subject but not this.

"Because I don't," you say. "I'd rather not, with anyone else."

Another exhale, his voice lower now. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." You already know it's not nothing. The tone he takes when he says it ; clipped and distant, it sounds like he’s already out of the conversation.

You lean against the brick wall, watching people stream past with their coffee cups and backpacks. Jess catches your eye and you shake your head slightly.

"Ni-ki," you say, " What's happening ? You've been distant again for a whole week without texting me once, even after you said that you would work on it. Are you fucking someone else ?"

He doesn't answer right away. The silence stretches, and you can hear the faint sound of traffic wherever he is, maybe already driving out of town.

"That's not it," he says finally.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know." His voice cracks a little. "I’m—I don't know what this is…and I don't know why you keep showing up when I keep being an asshole."

You close your eyes. "Could be that I like assholes."

"You really shouldn't."

"Yeah but that's not your call."

He laughs in frustration. "See? That's the problem. You don't let me push you away. You just keep coming back and I don't know how to handle that."

Your chest aches. "So you're leaving for the weekend because you can't handle me staying?"

"I'm leaving for the weekend because my dad wants to have a conversation about my future and I need to get it over with." He pauses. "The text was...I don't know. A test."

"A test for what?"

"To see if you'd get mad."

"Did I pass?"

"You got mad. So yes." He sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in it. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to not be that guy who sends impulsive texts and pushes people away."

You slide down the wall until you're sitting on the concrete, knees pulled up to your chest. Jess sits down next to you without saying anything, her shoulder warm against yours.

"Just go see your dad," you say. "Text me when you get back."

"You're not going to fuck anyone else?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because I need to hear you say it."

You swallow. The words feel too heavy. You say them anyway.

"I don't want anyone else. Just you. Even when you're being an asshole."

Long silence. "Okay. Love you."

"Wait wha—"

He hangs up. And you sit there on the sidewalk with Jess, phone in your lap, trying to process what he just said. You know it’s going to hurt as he doesn’t want you to stay. He’s an asshole and you’re aware of it. But you can’t help but see the broken person he is, wanting to take care of him and give him everything he needs.

───

You've been staring at it for an hour now, counting the seconds between the creaks of the old building settling. The clock on your nightstand says 11:47 PM, then 11:58, then 12:03.

Sunday night. He was supposed to be back by now. He didn't say when exactly, but Thursday to Sunday felt like a window that's already closed.

You checked your phone maybe 40 times since Friday, but no messages nor calls. You're stuck on the same text thread sitting there, his last words about fucking whoever you want that you haven't responded.

Your eyes are heavy but your brain won't shut up. You turn onto your side, then onto your back, then onto your stomach. Everything is wrong.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand and you grab it before the second vibration.

Jake's name.

You don't talk to Jake often, maybe a few times in group chats. He's not the type to call you at midnight for no reason.

You answer. "Hello?"

"Hey, Y/N." His voice is different. "Sorry to call so late. You heard from Ni-ki?"

Your stomach drops. "No. Why?"

A pause on his end. You can hear him exhale. "He left Thursday, right? He said he was going to see his dad and was supposed to be back Saturday. It's Sunday now and no one's heard from him. Not me, not Jay, not even Jungwon. His phone's going straight to voicemail."

You sit up, your heart pounding. "Have you tried calling his house?"

"Yeah. No answer. I don't have the landline or whatever. I just have his cell."

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, already standing. "Okay. Let me try something."

"You think he's okay?"

"I don't know." You're pulling on a hoodie, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder. "I'll call you back."

"Alright. Be careful."

You hang up and immediately dial Ni-ki's number. It rings once, twice, three times. Then voicemail. You call again. It goes straight to voicemail this time. Not even a single ring.

You try one more time but nothing.

The clock says 12:15 now. You stare at your reflection in the dark window. Your own face looks back, pale and anxious.

You text him.

You [12:16 AM]

Hey

Jake said you're not back

Call me when you get this.

Then you lie back down, but you don't sleep.

───

It's Monday morning. You skipped your first class, you could afford to miss.

You take the bus. You don't know why you bother with the bus when he's not there to pick you up, but walking would take an hour and you don't have the patience for that

The house looks the same as always. Big and quiet. The gate is closed but not locked. You push it open and walk up the driveway, the gravel crunching under your sneakers.

You ring the doorbell. The door opens, but not by much. An older man stands there, maybe in his sixties, wearing a simple button-up shirt. You've seen him before, once, maybe twice, always in the background. The butler, you guess or the house manager, something like that.

"Can I help you?" His voice is polite but guarded.

"I'm looking for Ni-ki. His friends haven't heard from him since Thursday." You try to keep your voice steady. "Is he here?"

The butler hesitates. His eyes scan your face, probably deciding if you're worth talking to.

"Mr. Riki is not currently at the residence," he says.

"When will he be back?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

You feel frustration building in your chest. "Is he okay? Did something happen with his dad?"

The man's expression doesn't change. "I'm afraid I can't discuss the family's private matters."

"Please." Your voice cracks. "I'm not some random person. I'm his...I'm a friend. He's not answering his phone. We're all worried."

The butler looks at you in slience. He then glances over his shoulder, into the dark hallway behind him, before stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door mostly shut behind him.

"He left for his father's estate on Thursday afternoon," the man says quietly like he's not supposed to be telling you this. "There was a scheduled meeting regarding his future. Finances, education, that sort of thing." He pauses. "I have not seen him since. The family's driver returned alone on Saturday."

Your heart drops. "Alone? Where is he?"

"I don't know. I wasn't told." His voice softens slightly. "If you're a friend of his, I would suggest waiting. He tends to...disappear, when things get difficult."

That's totally the opposite reassuring.

"Can you at least tell him I came by?" you ask. "Y/N. He has my number."

The butler nods once. "I'll relay the message."

He steps back inside and closes the door. You stand on the porch for a minute, staring at the wood grain, your hands shaking. Afterwards you turn and walk back down the driveway, gravel biting through the soles of your shoes.

You call Jake on the way to the bus stop. He picks up immediately.

"Anything?" he asks.

"No. He's not there. The butler said the driver came back alone on Saturday." You swallow. "No one knows where he is."

Jake is quiet for a second. "That's not like him."

You want to say that you don't know what's like him anymore. That every time you think you understand, he does something else.

"Yeah," you say instead. "I know."

The bus pulls up. You get on, find a seat by the window, and watch the big house shrink behind you until it's just a smudge in the distance.

───

The best you could was getting to Jess's apartment. You've been sitting on her couch for twenty minutes, not really watching whatever Jake has on the TV, not really listening to Jay argue with him about something related to F1. Your phone is faced down on the coffee table. You stopped checking it an hour ago.

Jess is in the kitchen, the sound of running water and the clink of a mug against the counter. You can smell tea, something herbal.

"You good?" Jay asks from the armchair, not looking at you, because he's learned from Jess that direct eye contact when you're upset makes you clam up.

"No," you say. "But it's fine, I guess."

Jake glances over. "Still no word?"

You shake your head.

The TV is playing some local news channel. A middle-aged woman is talking about a road closure downtown. You tune it out.

Jess comes in with a tray of mugs, setting it on the coffee table. She hands you one without asking if you want it. The mug is warm against your palms.

"Thanks," you murmur.

She sits next to you. "Have you eaten?"

"Not really."

"I'll order something later."

You nod. The TV cuts to a breaking news graphic ; red and white, it seems urgent.

"We're receiving reports of a shooting in the industrial district," the anchor says, her voice steady but grave. "Details are limited, but we understand the altercation occurred around 2:00 this afternoon and involved individuals associated with drug dealing and money laundering operations in the area."

Jake whistles low. "Damn. That part of town is getting worse."

Jay shushes him.

"One person has been confirmed shot," the anchor continues. "According to sources close to the investigation, the victim is reportedly a tall male in his early twenties. He is believed to be the son of a prominent entrepreneur in the region. Authorities have not released a name pending family notification, but we have obtained a photo from witnesses who apparently recognized the victim during the scene."

The screen cuts to a photograph.

Your hand freezes around the mug.

It's him. Ni-ki. The photo is from some event ; he's in a dark jacket, looking off to the side, jaw set, eyes half-lidded.

"The victim's identity has not been officially confirmed," the anchor says as text scrolls across the bottom of the screen. "However, our sources indicate that the body has not yet been recovered from the scene. Police are continuing their investigation."

The mug slips from your fingers. It hits the coffee table and tea spills everywhere, soaking a magazine, dripping onto the carpet. You're staring at the screen, at his face, at the words scrolling past.

Body not recovered.

Jess grabs your arm. "Y/N. Y/N, breathe."

Jake is standing now, phone already in his hand, calling Jungwon. Jay is frozen, eyes wide, looking between you and the TV, still not believing what he saw. The anchor moves on to the next story and the graphic disappears. The screen fills with footage of a city council meeting.

You don't remember standing up but you're on your feet now, and the room is spinning, Jess is saying your name over and over, and all you can think is : His body hasn't been found.

Which means he could be alive, or he could be dead.

You don't know anything at all.

@kookieterry @wonderikii @rikisloverrr @icryforenhypen @hyyhwriter @nodoubtily @teddyberryy @genienha @simjakeyjake @2dolcee @heartheejake

You stand at the stove. The sizzle of vegetables in the pan fills the air, mingling with the savory aroma of garlic and spices. It’s late, the apartment pleasantly peaceful. You’ve been stirring absentmindedly, lost in the task of cooking after a long day.

The sound of the bathroom door opening reaches your ears, followed by soft footsteps padding across the floor. You’re about to turn when Jungwon’s arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you gently back against his chest. His skin is still warm and slightly damp from the shower, the clean scent of his body wash enveloping you. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling deeply as if he’s been waiting all day for this moment.

“Mmm, what’s for dinner?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky against your ear, lips brushing lightly along your temple. You smile, leaning into his embrace just a little, your free hand resting over one of his on your stomach. “You,” you joke lightly, the word slipping out with a teasing laugh as you tilt your head back toward him.

The effect is immediate.

Jungwon’s breath catches, his body tensing against yours. You feel it ; the subtle shift in his hips, the obvious hardness pressing against the curve of your ass through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. He’s always been like this with you, so responsive to even the smallest touch or the slightest suggestion. A simple joke, your body fitting so perfectly against his, and he’s already half-hard, growing firmer by the second.

“Fuck,” he whispers, a mix of embarrassment and desire thickening his voice. His arms tighten around you, one hand splaying across your abdomen as he rocks forward instinctively, seeking more contact. “You can’t just say that while I’m holding you like this.” His nose burrows deeper into your hair, and you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the heat radiating from him.

You set the spatula down, turning your head enough to catch his flushed expression from the corner of your eye. His cheeks are tinged pink, eyes half-lidded, that known vulnerability mixed with want making your own pulse quicken. Without letting go, his fingers trace clumsy patterns on your waist, dipping just under the hem of your shirt, as if fighting the urge to go further right there against the counter.

“Dinner can wait,” he adds breathlessly, his erection now fully evident, throbbing gently with each subtle movement. “Unless you really meant that part about me…”

You feel his breath hitch against your neck, his body pressed flush to yours. One of his hands slides up from your waist, cupping your breast firmly through your shirt, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens under his touch. The other hand dips lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties without a second thought. His digits find your folds, stroking gently at first before pressing in, circling your clit and then sliding one finger inside you. He works you patiently, curling his finger just right while his palm grinds against your sensitive bundle of nerves. A second finger joins the first, pumping steadily as your breaths grow sharper. “That’s it,” he murmurs hotly into your hair, squeezing your breast in time with his thrusts. Soon you’re slick and dripping around his fingers, your hips rocking back against him involuntarily.

He spreads your wetness all over your core, coating his fingers thoroughly before pulling them free. The cool air hits your heated skin while he tugs your panties down just enough. You hear the soft rustle of fabric as he frees his cock, already rock-hard and throbbing from earlier. He taps the swollen head against your entrance teasingly ; once, twice ; rubbing it up and down your slit, making you ache with impatience. Then he slips his length along your pussy, gliding through your folds to coat himself in your slickness. The wet, obscene sounds fill the kitchen as he drags his cock back and forth, teasing your clit with every pass. Finally, with a low groan, he lines himself up and thrusts deep into you in a single smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt.

A filthy, wet squelch echoes from where your bodies meet, your arousal making the slide effortless and loud. Jungwon curses under his breath, his grip tightening on your breast as he holds still for a moment, savoring the way you clench around him. “So fucking wet for me,” he whispers, starting to move ; slow, deep thrusts that make that slick sound with every push and pull, his hips snapping forward against your ass while the dinner forgotten on the stove.

You grip the edge of the counter as Jungwon’s thrusts push you forward, your upper body bending over until your chest and arms rest against the cool kitchen surface. The position arches your back perfectly for him, offering deeper access. His hand slides up to press firmly on your lower back, holding you still as he adjusts his stance behind you. With a deep groan, he buries himself as far as possible inside you, his hips flush against your ass. After that, he starts to wiggle them in small circles, grinding deep without pulling out. The motion creates a loud wet noise ; lewd squelching that are filling the silence of the room. Your slickness coats him completely, making the sounds even wetter and lustier.

He chuckles breathlessly, the sound low and teasing against your ear as he leans over you slightly. “Hear that?” he murmurs, amusement coloring his voice even as he keeps wiggling, stirring inside you. “So fucking messy…Does it embarrass you, baby? Or does it turn you on more?”

His hand stays anchored on your lower back, keeping you pinned gently but securely against the counter while he continues those teasing, grinding movements. The wet noises don’t stop ; each wiggle draws out another slick, embarrassing squelch that makes your face heat up. He’s rock-hard and throbbing deep inside, clearly enjoying how your body reacts to him.

You stay bent over the kitchen counter, upper body pressed against the cool surface, ass presented to him. Jungwon’s hand leaves your lower back for a moment, then comes down with a sharp slap on your ass, the sound cracking through the kitchen as your skin stings and flushes under his palm. He groans in satisfaction and starts thrusting again ; deep and slow, dragging his thick length almost all the way out before sinking back in to the hilt with force. Each thrust makes your body jolt forward against the counter, the squelching sounds returning louder than before. “Fuck, look at you,” he says condescendingly as he keeps that torturously slow pace. “Bent over like a slut, taking me so well. You’re so wet it’s pathetic. I wish you could see how needy you look right now.”

He slaps your ass again, lighter this time, and rubs the spot soothingly as he grinds deep. “Can’t even talk, huh? Just moaning and clenching around me like you’ve never been fucked before.” His tone turns mockingly sweet. “Poor thing’s brain all empty. So cute when you’re this fucked out.”

You try to respond, but only a broken whimper escapes your lips, your fingers gripping the counter edge tighter as another deep thrust knocks the breath out of you. Jungwon chuckles darkly, leaning over you, his chest against your back. He grabs your hip with one hand while the other stays on your lower back, holding you in place. “Use your words, baby,” he coos, slowing his thrusts even more, making sure you feel every inch. “Tell me how it feels. Come on…don’t make me ask twice.”

He punctuates the demand with another firm slap on your ass, waiting with a smug smirk as he stays buried deep inside you. When he pushes himself even deeper, pressing his hips flush against your ass until you feel him bottom out completely. He stays there, buried to the hilt, and starts stirring his hips again in circles, grinding his cock against every sensitive spot inside you. The motion makes your toes curl and pulls another broken moan from your throat. He knows exactly what he’s doing, he loves to stir your slickness with his length.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, voice low and mocking. His hand smooths over the reddened skin of your ass where he slapped you earlier. “I can feel you fluttering around me… greedy little pussy trying to pull me in even deeper.”

He keeps up the stirring, rolling his hips in lazy figure-eights that press right against that perfect spot, making your legs tremble. Then his tone shifts, still condescending but now edged with warning. “Better start using your words, baby,” he says, slowing his movements until he’s barely moving, just keeping himself buried deep and grinding teasingly. “If you don’t say something right now…I’m not letting you cum at all. I’ll keep you right on this edge, stirring your cunt until you’re crying for it, and then I’ll pull out and leave you empty. Understand?”

His fingers dig into your hip as he waits, still buried inside you, the threat hanging in the air while your body clenches desperately around him. “Go on,” he coos, slapping your ass lightly again. “Tell me how my cock feels. Use your words like a big girl.”

You’re trembling against the counter, overwhelmed by the deep grinding and the threat in his voice, when the tears finally spill over. They slip down your cheeks as soft, overwhelmed sobs escape you, your body clenching hard around his cock from the intensity of it all.

Jungwon’s breath catches. You feel his cock twitch and swell even harder inside you, thickening noticeably as your crying seems to turn him on more. “Oh? Now you’re crying?” he mocks, voice echoing in fake sympathy. His hand presses firmer on your lower back, keeping you pinned down as he suddenly starts thrusting harder ; deeper, sharper strokes that make your hips jolt against the counter with every wet slap of skin on skin.

“Big girls don’t cry, baby,” he coos viciously, punctuating each word with a rough thrust. “You’re stronger than that.” He laughs softly as he picks up the pace, fucking you with hard strokes. “Crying only makes me harder, you know that?” He leans over you, lips brushing your ear while his hips snap forward. “Poor thing can’t even handle being stuffed full. But you’re still clenching so tight…you love it, don’t you?”

Another hard thrust rocks through you as fresh tears slide down your face. Jungwon groans in pleasure, clearly enjoying every second of your overwhelmed state. “Go on, keep crying for me. Big girls don’t cry…but it looks like my needy girl does.”

Downtown is abuzz, springtime bringing out lifeforms in their fullest, humans on a leisurely stroll and vampires in their element, nightfall cast to upheave the sluggishness of day, canines bared and timeless beauty arresting. On the way to your destination, a concrete jungle of scaffolding and pets on leashes, you stop at an intersection. Cars zoom, traffic lights ticking down until they turn green again. The road, a blur of cars would usually have your attention, if not for the huge billboard plastered above the pizzeria and jazz bar just ahead. 

Pearl Bite: A bloodless white, a perfect smile. 

Your own faux canines show, tongue run beneath their point as your eyes dazzle at the advert. Specifically, the creator and model for Pearl Bite ─ your one and only boyfriend. 

College sweethearts, Sunghoon describes your romance as a sneaky attack on your behalf, nothing but his passion on his mind, only to be derailed. The brilliance of your smile, the heartiness of your laugh, your endless glow he couldn't shy away from. The next century is meant to build upon his newly-found interest in dentistry, open his own practice with amassed generational wealth and give back to his community. His initial plan only accounts for vampires, at the mercy of many cycled conversations of blood-stained fangs and how there's no vampire-equivalent for teeth-whitening. Then he meets you, unknowingly opens himself up more to the human experience, recognizes how they can differ vastly from his own, yet share so many similarities. 

You're the most selfless person he knows, a long-line of people served before you're last in line. Amongst the juggle of others' needs and aspirations, yours kind of included somewhere, he learns you're a product of everything you've ever loved and suffered from too. In the months passing too quick for his liking - still toeing the line of friendship(ish) - you bare yourself to him in the late night diner you work at. 

The one he walks you home from, drinks the shitty coffee because you've brewed it. The things vampires do for love.

In a dim corner booth, your chin perches on your folded arms, fingers drumming against a table you're yet to clean and are honestly too tired to at this point. It's been non-stop shifts packed into a never-ending semester, and whilst your job's meant to supplement your means of living, it also serves another purpose. 

"I owe my mom everything," you start, the bat of your lashes turning Sunghoon into a statue, knowing what's to come yet unsure. Uncertain how to proceed. "No matter how little we had to our name, she always made sure I was taken care of. That if one of us was happy, it was always me,"

Your nose twitches, eyes glossy with a sigh coming from trembling lips. A vague crack sounds in his chest. 

He wishes his hand had the kind of warmth you'd lean into. 

"Losing her best friend, and in a way, losing me ─ has brought her to her knees," your fingers drum, pupils shaking as you will your tears to only exist before your waterline. "I'm doing as much as I can, but there's only so much to do from across the country. I can't check in on her and the house between lectures, I can't pay for anything medical other than some lousy insurance, I can't transfer that weight to myself,"

"Because at least then, it wouldn't be her burden to bear." 

The welled emotions in your chest demand you to straighten, more space for lungs to expand and when stray tears fall, you can only exhale, elbows propped to the table to wipe them away. Your hand falls to the surface in perfect timing, searing skin meeting a cool, steady palm. You're just as still as him, the thump of your heart felt in Sunghoon's fingertips, all the way through to his ears ringing with its race. Only empathy occupies him, remnants of a life before immortality tethering you two together by more than held hands, the quiet compassion he delivers sticking with you forever. 

Time has since passed, that corner booth a bittersweet memory. In spite of long-carried pain, you and your mom see brighter days ─ graduation, your first adult job, the return of her smile. Depression has a way of mystifying the future ahead of you, the present clouded in miserable, inescapable grey clouds. To push on takes all the more effort, so things start to give ─ sleep, appetite and the wither of everything else. While she's managed to pick herself up by the aid of you and others, your mom still holds a keepsake she'd rather do without. A dimmed smile you're doing your best to help restore. But in a household where annual doctor's trips are rare, the luxury doesn't come easy. And by the time you're examining what other expenses to cut back on, Sunghoon pitches his latest project. 

Pearl Bite, for humans and vampires alike. 

Endless trials, modifications, moulds that have bitten the dust and brave participants that bring his dream into fruition. Only now, his dream accounts for not only you, but your mother. Additional modules and clinicals to fit in the study of human teeth, revitalizing the last part of a past your mother is moving forward from. And when everything's said and done, your mother instinctively cowers from the mirror before she weeps, holding onto Sunghoon with a life force as gratitude soaks into his white coat. In the corner, his eyes find you, the water-lined tears in your eyes like then, now reflecting the kind of appreciation and love he knows is priceless. 

Pearl Bite takes off, his humble practice fighting to accommodate for the onslaught of patients he tries helping. People come from far and wide, all with a story that picks at their nails and prompts reluctance when it comes time for Sunghoon's inspection. Overbites, plaque, shaven-down fangs, blood stains ─ the list goes on. However, their reluctance is all but forgotten once he commits himself to their well-being, a sigh of relief filling his mask before he hands over what feels like a magic mirror, sorrow turning into happiness. One practice isn't enough, not for endless clients, or aspiring dentists with the same aspirations. Multiple dot themselves across the country, his time split between sights he flies to (your stomach still drops whenever both your feet leave the ground). He has a line of products, an alternative solution for those he cannot meet and to no surprise, it takes off. You climb your own career ladder, finding something just as meaningful and building your life together with the man who saved yours and your mother's smile. 

His practice bustles as it always does, a mixture of clients flipping through magazines or sharing stories in the waiting room. To his assistance, you wave, your presence always welcome when your schedules align. In the hall leading to his office, your head nods at more waiting patients, smile brimmed in manner with a glance at the clock. 

It's feeding time. 

A flutter in your chest disturbs the peace you've maintained for the day's majority, current sparked as your palm meets the door handle of his office, shallowly pulled to the side only to let yourself in. No one occupies the dental unit, spotlight tucked away with the space sterilised and clean, its sleek hues of white, grey and muted baby blue burrowing comfort in your chest. Attempts to slow the rabbit Sunghoon hears, a heartbeat so attuned to he forgoes his inventory count and goes to filter back into the main room, surprise alight in his eyes as he's urged back. 

"I didn't know you were coming," his voice carries the sentiment, the half-hearted draw of his inventory's door schemed behind you. 

Innocence brims in your smile nonetheless, arms strung around him as his hands fall to your waist, steady and firm. 

"You forgot your dinner."

"Dinner?" a lone eyebrow raises, the slope of his nose in full view as his head turns to the mini fridge metres away. "I should have enough blood bags for─" 

Your nails rake through his nape hairs once and for all, stepping back before you haul yourself on the counter space he'd been working so diligently on, showcasing the dinner he's seemingly left behind.

You. 

No one would bat an eyelash at the length of your skirt, a conservative length if not for an extra long stride ─ the cross of your legs ─ where skin reveals itself, blemishing with incessant teeth marks, beard burn and a mouth pulling into a disbelieving smile as you reveal yourself to him, making sure to crane your neck enough to hint at the location of his last feed. 

"So," mischief lives in the lines of your smirk, your own canines peeking through in an ask. "Will you finish what you started?" 

With centuries spent living amongst vampires and humans, you'd think Sunghoon would have some know-how. Predict the patterns humans have made of themselves, ingrained in wired DNA passed down from generation to generation. Yet, you always seem to surprise him. Bring the disbelieving and amused laughter out his huffing chest, his proximity drawn closer as his hands staple on either side of your thighs, skirt material bunched in your lap, goosebump-riddled from the arctic temperature of his office. 

His eyes burn with a dial of lust, iris colouring into a wine hue before his pupils swallows the field whole, gaze flickered between your eyes and lips. 

"This is risky," he notes, nosing along your jaw. The instinct to give your neck away wears him down more than you'll know. "Anyone could come in and see us. Hear us," 

He deserts the raised skin trail he's created from slight grazes alone, satisfaction on his lips as he creates space to marvel at the mess you're boiling down to. 

"But that's what gets you off, right?" his fangs show, his grin too amused and cocky to shield them, his head tilted to only emphasis his point. "Just can't keep your pretty moans to yourself." 

Air fills your lungs through a nasal inhale, chest slumping with a gulp audible to your own ears. You'd waltzed in here first, you can't lose control just yet. 

You bring yourself closer to the counter's edge, skirt riding up further to expose hints of lace, knowing it'll do nothing but torment him. Taunt him as his canine and lower teeth toy with an inner piece of his check, restraint tested.

"Come on, you haven't fed in days," he's standing straighter, hands off the counter. He's close enough though, the perfect distance for your leg to hook at his lower back and draw him in, your hand waiting before his length eventually throbs in your palm, your grin a work of sin as you peer up at him with dark magic eyes. "I know you're hungry." 

Control is commanded, and to some extent, Sunghoon submits. Lets you carry out your charade, allows the concept of power to exist in your frame of mind. However, deep down, you both know. Undeterred, Sunghoon lets you palm his growing erection, smirking like it doesn't turn him on. Like he doesn't give your hand one grind, starved for friction. 

His hand raises to outline the shell of your ear with his fingertip, pleased with the shiver erupting down your spine. 

"Funny how blood and sex are so intertwined," he leads, voice husky as his eyes fall to yours again, standing their ground. "For you, especially."

It's meant to be a call out. In some measure, you suffer from its consequences, prickly skin and heated cheeks. However, you've been with Sunghoon long enough to quit playing shy. You plan to spend eternity with him too, it's only natural you reward him with your honesty.

"It's another layer of intimacy," the sweetness of your words juxtapose your actions, palm firm against his shaft as your thumb glides over his tip in sweet, torturous motions, smile stretching at the waver of his breath. You cock your head, a call for attention. "Wouldn't you agree?"

He's close like this now, shuffled to you in a tighter circle of your hooked legs, the column of his throat licked. The grain of stubble against your tongue hums your pleasure into his skin, his own mirrored sound coming when your teeth nibble on the teased skin.

"Hmph," he groans, losing focus. Losing to you. "I do, but my mind can't help but wonder," 

Further words peaks your interest, Sunghoon's hand settling across your neck, face further away as he handles you for his viewing pleasure. His other set of knuckles push his glasses up his nose bridge, chin lifted as he looks at you through low eyes, the quiet but hard thump of your pulse meeting the pad of his thumb.

"If it's the euphoric high you're starved for," Sunghoon's thumb moves over the tender skin, thump gaining traction as you attempt withstanding his complete read of you. "Or maybe it's the slight pain," 

Through the time you've known Sunghoon, you've only ever known him to be humble. No matter what feat he reaches, trait or skill he posses and displays, he'll pretend as if it's not his own. Won't gloat, won't brag ─ except for times like these. 

When he's got you right where he wants, his fangs pinpoint on your skin between the fan of his thumb, your heartbeat the equivalent of being chased. 

You hear his smirk first before you see it, space created again as his eyes cannot be without your sight for too long. 

"Which one is it?"

The hand that'd been palming him arrests the counter's edge, knuckles burning white in an act of self-restraint. Control you're being frayed to abandon, a harsh run of your tongue on the back of your teeth as your other leg hooks behind him, nowhere to hide as your hip roll to meet his, a grind you see chipping away at him.

Pressure adds to the grasp on your neck ─ a test to you too. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." 

Again, that almost incredulous yet amused chuckle meets your ears, this time more mocking as Sunghoon's tongue pokes his inner cheek, his eyes bleeding over with an intensity you've only been anticipating.

"I'll find out either way," one corner of his lip lifts, small but all-knowing. "Spread your legs." 

The last thing you'll do is indulge him, even if your body aches for him in the worst way ─ bone deep, lust sinking in your body like an anchor. You're already pressed against him, the friction of few layers a blessing in disguise for someone as insatiable as you are. This, you can do with. The same can't be said for Sunghoon, who in the questioning look he gives you, your smile extends ─ a slice of heaven and a lot of hell. 

"What's with the attitude?" he chuckles, one last squeeze against the sides of your neck to make you squeak. The departures paves the way for his impatience, enough strength to pry your crossed ankles apart. "Didn't you want this all along? Treated the way you are in my office because you couldn't wait?"

You can't compete against an immortal, his strength bending your body to his will, thighs braced against the arctic counter top. Spread to his liking. 

"Ah, that's why," it's the second time in such little time you've heard him smirk, a more evil moon crescent shape to his eyes as he marvels between your legs. Specifically, the wetness that's soaked through the flimsy fabric. "It's okay, I want you just as much." 

A gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead, because your ego has its' moments, bruising like a peach. You could huff, turn away from the supposed affection he gives you, but he's quicker. A peck to the tip of your nose and happiness in the light chuckle he does afterwards. 

Then, when you're looking at him again, albeit reluctantly, he smiles regardless. Cups your cheeks, holding you as if porcelain and kisses you. Soft and pillowy, lingering to savour the simple press of flesh, a slow and sweet swirl back into desire. Melting in his cold grasp, you move in patterns known to each other, the audacity to start pulling away breathing a snicker between your lips, his smile against your lips after he's chased them, your own introduced moments later. 

He picks you apart in the most delicate way, undoing you with adoring kisses and assured hands, consuming you with every breath he steals, hands of desperation hinging themselves against his arms. Sunghoon kisses you as if it's your last, with deeper meaning coming from the lifetimes he's lived, your bottom lip between his teeth as he tugs gently. 

A move applicable to everyone. Doing its worst to you. 

While other teeth tease, his fangs threaten, a harsher skim against the flesh your breath hitches at, a swipe of his tongue meant to soothe, only to fuel the fire burning in you. 

While his hands no longer cradle your face, he kisses you without fault. Pouring affection into the tender overlap of lips, the only thing you manage to do is lift your hips as his hands tug your panties down your legs, tucked away in his back pocket as a souvenir. If you weren't so dazed, you'd make fun of him, like when you'd felt his cock kick when you'd started kissing, the venture of your tongue making him sigh a stuttered breath. 

Smacked lips and laboured breaths no longer only occupy the office/closet space, abundance of slick lapped up on the span of two fingers, the most piled on Sunghoon's fingertips as they tease your entrance, thumb doing slow circles against your clit. 

Fingers carding through his hair, your breath stutters in his mouth. Whines and huffed whimpers bleed into his kiss-stained lips as his fingers push in with no resistance, welcomed as your walls conform to their shape. He stretches you with the scissors of his fingers, the stretch simmering with a touch of discomfort, grinding down to blooming pleasure as you yield, his fingers 'curl pushed into the spot making you see stars. 

"Think I'll give your thighs a break," Sunghoon whispers, your tongue dipped into the curve of his lips. "All those hickeys and beard burn can't be good for you ─ too much friction," 

"N-not enough," you wail, running feverishly hot and without any care, bucking your hips helplessly. "Want ─ more." 

"I've made you such a greedy thing, haven't I?" he murmurs, humming at all the sounds you reward him with ─ vulnerable moans, sloppy kisses you try giving but it's no use. You're gone, in too deep to realise the moment you'd walked into his office, your fate had been sealed. 

Other points deserve attention, is Sunghoon's thought process as he leaves your lips with one last slow kiss, saliva strung between your quivering lips before he peppers his way down your chin, up the curve of your jaw and stops right below your earlobe. You know where he'll go next and it sends a buzz through your every cell, makes you tremble and shake. And before your brain can catch up to the signs, Sunghoon knows too.

Hears the chaos of your heart, the disarray of your pulse and plays along.

"Haven't even got to your neck and you're leaking all over my fingers," he muses, a peck smacked onto the dipped skin before his teeth catch onto the fleshy part, a fang punctured close to where your lone piercing is. An automatic response is relayed by your body. "Squeezing my fingers for all their worth, huh?"

Lolled to the side, a partial part in purpose but the other because your head's swarmed in haziness, twice its weight from Sunghoon consuming you, his non-beating heart having the decency to not prolong your long-awaited ask. He descends, inches but makes his way with the tread of his teeth down your neck column. 

"What happened to that little attitude of yours, sweet girl?" he asks, the squelch and twitch of your body unearthing a rarity in condescending nature. "Did I fingerfuck it out of you, hm? You wanna be my good girl now?"

You nod hard enough to feel the jumble of your brain, cut up into pieces and free-floating in your zero-gravity headspace. 

"You know nods won't do," he's there. The exact spot he feeds from, and it's maddening. The release of adrenaline, the rabbit chase your heart does, nails scraping into marble. 

He noses along the mark, a momentary pause noting how gone he is for you too, intoxicated at the mere scent of your blood before everything crumbles, his willpower the only thing standing as he pries away, looking you in your eyes as he says, 

"Let me hear you say it, princess." 

"I'll─I'll be good," the words slosh in your mouth, lips pressed to muffle your desperate squeaks. "I just─just let me come please?" 

"I'm no animal," dark laughter licks up your spine, stuck in its slouch as Sunghoon's rhythm picks up, fingertips knocking deepest in you, your jaw pried open in silent surprise. "I couldn't deprive you if I tried." 

"Come on, sweet girl," he comes closer, fresh linen scent engulfing you as a kiss lays upon your temple. "The quicker you let go, the faster you get my cock." 

The quicker he'll feed. 

The mere thought is almost like magic, contracting your walls in an impossible squeeze as the coil in your stomach sizzles at the tips of your toes, shooting up to burst through every avenue ─ every pore ─ of your body. Detonating right in the palm of his hand, he kisses your wails away until they subside, fingers working you until you're twitchy and overly sensitive, glossy eyed yet itching to unbutton his slacks. 

"Impatience will get you hurt," is his later comment, letting you mess with the buckle of his belt, metallic clashes resonating through the room. Dripping more slick onto his office counter. "So rushed when you'll struggle taking me."

The last notch of his zipper sounds louder than the rest, your head snapped in his direction. "Now, that you can't mock me for," 

Your eyes drop down to the heavy bulge imprinting through his briefs and slacks, hoping his eyes follow along. 

"I take your literal monster cock like a champ, thank you." 

"Give or take." 

You kiss your teeth, knowing better but still cursing at him in your head.

"Whatever," your eyes roll, pushing enough of his waistband down to get your hand around his cock. Barely, but it's not of the essence. What is is the need his tip heats with, generous precome beaded in his slit your thumbs runs over. A hiss releases in spite of his efforts, met with the cockiness of your grin. "You're the one who needs me here," 

"Blood bags only taste so good," you drawl, pulling him out to get a better handle of his length. Head ducked to dribble spit on his skin as makeshift lube, enveloped by your palm in a mixture with precome as your hand comes up and twists up his veined shaft. Now it's his turn for braced hands on the counter's edge, his grip strong enough to snap the marble in two. The thought ignites lightning in your stomach. 

Your mouth gets the chance for payback ─ hovering over the shell of his pointed one, a lapsed breath released in the anticipation of your words. The slow, tight jerk of your hand. "And none can get you off, so…" 

A huff of defeat ─ still humoured ─ sounds past your shoulder, Sunghoon's back muscles flexing through the white coat ruffling as he pushes off the table, hair slicked back back as his fingers run through dark strands, his pale features accented with a pretty rosy tint. 

Lips swollen with kisses. Skin glittering in the low light.

"You're annoying," his hands swats away yours, his focal point you as your figure reflects in the honey sweet hue of his eyes. "I love you." 

"Love you t─ah!"

Sunghoon had knocked your knees further apart, lined himself with your entrance and now, starts to slide his length in. Ever since your last orgasm, you'd hinged on his counter for the moment his cock would stretch you out, but even if your eyes blindly followed his shifts, you'd got lost in his confession. The sheer honesty and sincerity brimming in his eyes as he said so, his last words to you before you reconnect again as one. 

A frantic hand jumps to secure yourself on one plane of his shoulder, a sharp inhale sucking in all frigid air of his office into your shaken lungs, the bitten back moan he lets slip flooding the glide of his length, inches sparingly used. Yet the thought of being split open remains alive and well. 

"You're good, you can take it." 

It's one of his sentences that doesn't reek of condescension, the kind of sugary encouragement you can't help but want to do your best for, relying on your practiced methods of breathing and trying to relax. Except to accommodate to his size, you're gripping and adjusting, depleting his ability to be gentle with you. In the adjustments you make, one sentence lurks in the misty halls of his mind as he only gives as much as you can take, a hand and grazed-thumb on your hip to ground you. 

"What I'd do to stuff your hole full of me right now…"

Luckily, he doesn't have to do anything. Living up to your words, the inches continue to disappear, the sorest sight for his centuries-vision filled eyes, shoulders coming down in relief with a mouth ajar. Your hand's over the lower half of your stomach, not exposed by your shirt, but Sunghoon knows. 

You feel him there. 

"Remind me," he huffs, stalling for your adjustment, the stretch as delicious as it is a dance around torture. "You take what like a champ?"

Sunghoon gets a kick out of it, this you already know. Somehow, it still makes your jaw tick, the weight cramped in you, making friends with your lower stomach is colossal, enough for an eye twitch and a sharp head turn in his direction.

"Your cock," every word spoken has a letter with a centre part, the disapproving head shake you do continued as your hips shift, leaking tip grinding up into the spongy spot you keen at. "Now move, before I fuck you." 

Sunghoon's sorely mistaken. Painfully hard, yet he still continues ─ cat and mouse game too good to give up. 

"All bark, no bite," he muses, eyes in false moon crescent, hips pulling back to offload the fill of your entrance. "Leave that to the real vampire, huh?" 

Of course he'd leave you with that. Provide you some relief before he eases back into you again, grin shit-eating but eyes attentive, making sure this is pleasurable for you, to which it becomes. Accommodation is never easy, no matter how frequently you fuck, but he makes every grit of your teeth worth it. Falls into slow deep breaths you unknowingly follow and unwind with, moves his cock in and out at any pace you're comfortable with kisses you through it all, praises seared into the skin his lips meet.

A tempo builds, meek whimpers whispered into the hollow of his neck now barely contained moans. Your arms form a loose circle around his shoulders, the groans and whines he saves for your ears swirling a sickening pit of lust in your stomach.

"If only─hmph," you struggle, nails pressing into the fabric of his coat. "You put your mouth to better, fuck ─ use."

Past your ear, his laugh is bright. "You're bewitched,"

The smack of his pelvis against the back of your thighs teases your own teeth into his shoulder, whimpers releasing instead. 

"Are my fangs all I'm good for?"

Turns out, you have your own timing. Comedic timing, it seems, because when you pry from him, mourning the loss of his cool skin, your eyes peer down between your legs. At the cock he uses with you as priority, a simmered sensation you unwind to, wetness drenching his length as the faint bulge of his tip makes itself known. 

"You're good for other things too."

"Unbelievable," you hear your partner laugh, light and breathy because he's so fine-tuned to the human experience, large hands setting themselves up firm against your hips. "Now, if you will, let me do for what I'm good for."

Like you've always known him to be, he prides himself on his craft, making good of his word as he starts pistoning into you, the grind of his pelvis notching against your clit to make you squeal, his shoulders fastened to as the back of your thighs echo with your indecency. You're choking on moans, trying to keep noise to a minimal, but how can you when your vampire boyfriend knows you best? Knows what angle generates current in your body, what pace has you doubling over, holding him because the building pleasure is too immense for how contained your body feels? Knows when to flip the switch with you, the grounding presence you need or the kind that presses you into the ground. 

"My perfect girl," he murmurs, a soothing hand cascading down the back of your head. "I'll never get over how good you feel." 

He isn't the former for long, sheep's skin shed when your eyes start glossing over, legs hooked round his waist with your toes curled, tears of ecstasy saturating his coat's shoulder. How can he when you're basically offering yourself to him, enough distance created for your hands to support you from behind, neck craned for his taking. 

"Is this what you're into?" he asks, the outline of his body unfair under layers of clothing as his cock stuffs you full. "Do you fantasize about being feed on because you feed off the pleasure and pain?" 

You could consider his question, answer truthfully wherever it lies. However, you're a bit preoccupied. The one or two things he's good for working against you, reducing you to a worthless pile of mush, the same matter made of your brain, melted and spilling out your ears, hearing stifled. 

"Answer me." 

Your throat works, suddenly so dry with a swallow for saliva to quench some thirst, vision fuzzy as you fight off the impending doom. 

Not now, not yet. 

"Yes," you respond. "I'm into it because─" 

He notches himself with a particular force, one you do a withered whimper at, pupils shaking as they blow over your iris' ring. 

"Because it's with you," your hand's on his jaw, holding him firm as you add on. "I have a you fetish." 

"Fuck," there's a hitch in Sunghoon's thrusts, a slight hiccup when he disintegrates at your words, head hung only to come back up with the brightest smile on his face. The one you could spend eternity looking at. "You're such a tease." 

"A pretty, sloppy, needy─" emphasis in his stupidly seductive tone matches with the brute of his thrusts, concentrated and attuned to what'll make you break. "─tease." 

Against your forehead, his own falls, a kiss shared as his low body temperature attempts to dial back yours, the coil in your stomach too hot for you to function.

"Good thing you're close because I am too," he nods, one last kiss before he asks. "Do I have the honours?"

It's one of the easiest yes' you'll utter. 

"Always." 

What you could compare the initial seconds of Sunghoon feeding from you to is a piercing. The clamminess of your palms, an escalated heart rate even if you'd mentally prepared for the moment and eyes incapable of focusing. To gain it back, your only function boils down to managing your breaths as anticipation itches beneath your skin.

Then, it happens. 

A momentary flicker of pain, sharpened enamel piercing through skin and sinking, nestling where no vitals are endangered. It's minor, so minor it's forgotten the second after it's felt, the burst of euphoria incomprehensible. Words fail to explain the phenomenon, amounting to a standard you're on a constant chase for, bewitched as Sunghoon so lovingly puts it, him just the same ─ if not worse off ─ as he shamelessly moans at the taste, the vague waft of blood's metallic scent replaced with the blanket of his linen scent. 

Blood and sex are so intertwined, mentioned previously by Sunghoon. And while he'd said this in response to you, the words ring truest for him, a broken moan vibrating into your skin as his hips start rutting, erratic as he surges towards his orgasm. His priority forever and always, he wedges his hand between your bodies, your clit played with to bring you to a similar pace, something like come coating your walls as you squeeze his cock one last time, a cry from your lips before you come undone. 

Eventually, he relents, having had his fill with a pry he holds your body up for, still dazed from the aphrodisiac-like remedy in his venom to seal your skin together. When the world stops moving in separate circles, you catch sight of his fangs, coated in the rich crimson of your blood, only having the energy for a lazy smile before he sorts you two out. An eventual knock echoes at his door, Sunghoon spitting the last of Pearl Bite toothpaste out his mouth, fangs like brand new as you two feign normalcy. 

Like he hadn't fed from you, or how his vampire-equivalent to come isn't leaking between your crossed thighs. 

Just another day at Sunghoon's practice. 

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Heeseung is the sun around which the entire campus orbits.

He’s the captain of the basketball team, the big star whose name echoes through the packed arena during every game. With his lean yet athletic build, dark hair that falls over his sweaty forehead after a match, and that lazy half-smile that screams trouble while charming every girl in sight, he moves like he’s always being watched — and he is. Every head turns when he walks by, the crowd in the hallways parting like the sea for him and his teammates. He loves the attention.

Everyone knows the stories about Heeseung. He doesn’t do relationships — he rotates. A new girl every week, sometimes every day if he’s in the mood. They’re often seen leaving his apartment late at night, or early in the morning if he feels like letting them stay over, hair messy and wearing his team jacket like a trophy.

He usually doesn't appear with them in public, but it doesn't take long for the chosen girl to start gossiping in the hallways about how she's being fucked by him. That doesn’t last long though, because once the thrill fades he ignores them completely, never answering their messages once the weekend is over. "Let’s just have fun," he says, and the girls always agree, secretly believing they’ll be the one to change him.

You’ve been watching him from afar for months, studying the way he laughs too loudly at parties with his arm around whatever girl he’s with at the moment, the way his hand rests on her lower back as he guides her through the crowd, and how his eyes scan the room like he’s already searching for the next target while the current one is still pressed against him. It should disgust you — the casual way he uses people, the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind without remorse. But it doesn’t disgust you. It feeds you.

Deep down, in that secret place where you allow yourself to be completely honest, you want to be one of them. Not just another weekly girl — you want to be the one who breaks the pattern, the one so unforgettable, so incredible in bed and out of it, that Heeseung, the campus player, finally chooses you for good.

The problem is you have no idea how to make that happen.

You’re a virgin, completely untouched. The closest you’ve ever gotten to intimacy was an awkward, too-long hug with your best friend Jake after a tough week of exams. Approaching Heeseung as you are now — inexperienced, nervous, and clumsy — would never work.

"He likes confident girls, experienced ones who know how to dominate and be dominated in equal measure, because he doesn’t waste time teaching the basics. He expects you to already know how to please him." That’s what you heard from one of his teammates.

So after watching him leave the court with yet another girl on his arm, you make a decision.

You’re going to practice.

You’re going to transform yourself into the perfect girl for him — experienced enough to impress him, confident enough to stand out, and irresistible enough that when he finally notices you, he won’t be able to let you go.

────────

You stand outside Jake’s dorm room long enough for your legs to start aching. Your best friend’s room has always been your safe haven — the perfect spot for late-night study sessions, movie marathons, and listening to him ramble excitedly about sci-fi. Jake is kind, a bit nerdy in the best way possible, like a golden retriever with brown hair, a sweet smile, and glasses.

With a deep breath, you knock on the door.

Jake opens it almost immediately and breaks into a wide smile the moment he sees you. "Hey, what took you so long? Come in— wait, are you okay? You look tense."

You step inside and sit on the edge of his bed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Jake drops into his desk chair and pulls it closer so he’s facing you directly, his knees almost brushing against yours. "Jake… I need to talk to you about something kind of crazy, embarrassing, and probably really stupid."

He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling behind his glasses. "You know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?"

You tell him everything — how you’ve been watching Heeseung for months, how every time you see him with someone new, something deep in your chest twists, not exactly with jealousy, but with desire. You share the rumors you’ve heard about how he likes girls who know what they’re doing, girls who can match his intensity. Finally, you admit that you want to be the one he chooses — not just for a week, not for a fling, but for good.

"But I’m a virgin, Jake," you whisper, your cheeks burning. "I’ve never even… I don’t know what I’m doing. So if I tried to approach him like this, he’d probably laugh."

Jake’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.

"So I’ve decided… I’m going to practice. I’m going to get experience so that when I finally have my chance with Heeseung, I’ll be good enough that he won’t want anyone else."

Silence stretches between you as Jake stares at you for a long moment. He pushes his glasses up, his expression soft — not mocking, not disgusted. Just… Jake. "Wow. That’s… a lot. Heeseung, huh? I mean, I get it, but you’re really willing to do all that for him?"

Biting your lip, you nod. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And… I was hoping you’d help me with the first part."

Your voice drops until it’s almost inaudible. "I want you to be my first. I want to lose my virginity with you. You’re my best friend and I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle, you won’t laugh at me or tell anyone. Please, Jake?"

His cheeks flush pink and for a second it looks like he might say no. "You… you want me to what? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say."

He lets out a nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and something he’s always kept hidden. "I’ve never thought about you like that before or… okay, maybe I have, a little. But you’re serious? This is all for Heeseung?"

"Yes, but right now it’s about learning with someone safe, someone who cares. And that someone is you."

Jake stays quiet for a moment while he thinks, then reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Okay… if we’re really going to do this, I want it to be right for you. Not just jumping in headfirst." His thumb keeps tracing slow, soft circles on the back of your hand. "You’ve never done any of this before, right? Not even… by yourself?"

You swallow hard, staring at your intertwined fingers, and admit softly, "No… I mean, I tried rubbing against my pillow once and it felt good, I think? But I got scared and stopped. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jake. That’s why I need you to help me learn."

Jake nods, adjusting his glasses — a nervous habit — with flushed cheeks, but his voice stays as gentle and patient as always. "That makes sense. But before anyone else touches you, you should get to know your own body first. What feels good, what you like. It’ll make everything easier later… for him and for you."

He hesitates for a second, then adds with a small reassuring smile, "Do you trust me enough to try this now? With me here?"

Your heart races with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Yes, I trust you. Just… tell me what to do, please."

Jake stands up slowly and sits beside you on the bed. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek. "Start by getting comfortable. Lie back, and maybe take off your sweater if you want to and feel okay with it."

You do as he says, pulling off your sweater and setting it aside so you’re left in just your tank top and jeans. "Good," he murmurs. "Now touch yourself under your clothes first, over your stomach, along your thighs… feel how your body reacts."

You slide your hand beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. Your fingers graze the soft skin of your belly, then move higher, gently caressing one of your breasts. It feels strange doing this while he watches, but his gaze isn’t hungry or demanding — it’s warm and encouraging, like he’s looking at something precious. When your fingertips brush your nipple, a small sigh escapes you.

"Right there. That’s good. Circle slowly and squeeze just a little."

As he speaks, his own hand drifts down to the front of his sweatpants and then he starts touching himself gently over the fabric, not even trying to hide it. Knowing he’s getting hard just from watching you makes your breath hitch.

Following his instruction, you circle and lightly pinch your nipple, feeling a warm sensation build low in your belly. "Jake, it feels so good…"

"Tell me," he encourages, his hand moving in slow strokes that match the rhythm of your breathing. "Does it make you wet between your legs?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Keep going, slide your other hand into your jeans and touch yourself over your panties if you’re not ready for more yet."

With your free hand you obey, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping inside. The fabric of your panties is already damp when you press your fingers against yourself and rub lightly, drawing a soft whimper from your throat.

Both of your breathing grows heavier with every second. Jake pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself, stroking slowly while he watches every movement of your fingers.

"Fuck, that’s beautiful," he breathes, the words slipping out like he can’t hold them back. "Rub your clit. Find the spot that feels best."

You circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, rolling your hips when you finally discover the perfect way to touch yourself. Jake’s eyes stay locked on your hand while his own speeds up, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every stroke.

"Inside your panties now," his voice still gentle but strained. "Feel how wet you are. Explore your body, learn what it likes so you can show someone exactly what you need."

You push your panties aside and slide a finger along your slick folds. "Slide a finger inside, babe," he says and when you do, a moan escapes your lips — it’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Jake groans with the sight, his hand moving faster on himself.

"Add another finger and curl them a little. Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, babe." His praise makes you bolder, so you start pumping your fingers slowly, rubbing your clit with your thumb at the same time, while your free hand keeps playing with your breast, pinching harder as the pleasure rises.

"You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re breathing. Let it happen. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you." His words push you over the edge.

Moaning Jake’s name, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, your body tenses and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you. Waves of heat pulse around your fingers, deeper and stronger than you ever imagined.

"Fuck, don’t do this to me." His hand strokes faster until he groans and comes too, spilling over his fingers with a shaky breath.

For a moment, the room falls quiet except for your shared breathing. Jake leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his glasses tilting slightly. "Hey… you still with me? How are you feeling after that? Overwhelmed?"

You shake your head and let out a small giggle. "I’m good. Really good, actually." Reaching up, you gently fix his glasses and whisper, "Thank you for being so patient with me, Jake. I know this is probably weird for you too."

He smiles, and it makes you smile back naturally. "It’s not weird. At least not with you. Honestly, seeing you like that… it was beautiful. You’re beautiful." He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, giving you time to calm down while his hand rests on your hip and his thumb draws slow circles on your skin. "If you want to keep going, I’m right here."

You bite your lip, the mix of nerves and curiosity warms your body all over again. This is supposed to be practice — each new sensation is another skill you’re learning — but right now, with him, it feels like something more.

"I want more," you admit, cheeks burning. "Can you… use your mouth on me? I’ve heard it feels really good, but I don’t know what to expect."

Jake’s eyes widen for half a second. "Yeah, I’d love to do that for you." He moves carefully on the bed, helping you adjust the pillows behind your head so you’re comfortable. "Just relax and tell me what feels good, okay? If anything is too much or not enough, say so. Promise?"

"Promise." You extend your pinky toward him and he does the same, linking them together to seal the promise.

He starts with soft kisses on the inside of your knee, then higher up your thigh. Every touch of his lips sends shivers across your skin. "Your legs are already shaking," he murmurs with a low chuckle against your thigh. "That’s so cute."

When his mouth finally reaches your center, it’s feather-light at first — just his lips brushing against your folds — but it’s enough to make you draw in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tightly.

Then his warm tongue drags upward in one long, torturous lick from your entrance all the way to your clit. The feeling is wet, hot, and incredibly intimate, the texture of his tongue adds a new layer of friction that makes your hips jerk involuntarily.

"My God, Jake…" The words slip out before you can stop them.

"Good?" he asks, pulling back just enough for you to see his glistening lips as he looks up at you.

"Yes… really good. Do that again, please."

With more confidence this time, he explores every inch of you — licking along your folds, circling your clit, then moving down to taste your entrance. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you only heighten the arousal building in your belly.

Jake hums in satisfaction as he finds the rhythm you like best, reading it from your moans. "You taste incredible… so hot and wet."

You reach down and thread your fingers through his soft hair. "Right there, when you suck on my clit, it feels so good."

He listens immediately, sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and applying gentle suction while his tongue flicks against it, making the pleasure intensify, stronger than before.

The smooth glide of his tongue, the occasional careful graze of his teeth, and the way he alternates between lavishing attention on your clit and licking down to dip inside you make heat spread through your core — it radiates outward until even your fingertips feel warm. You grow even wetter, and Jake groans in appreciation, licking up every drop like he can’t get enough.

"Jake, I think I’m getting close again," you gasp, your voice breaking into a loud moan as he sucks harder on your clit. Your hips move against his face instinctively, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he doubles down with his tongue. This orgasm builds differently — deeper, more overwhelming — and when it crashes over you, it hits with a full-body shudder.

You cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure pulse through your center. Jake keeps licking you through it all, drawing out every tremor until you’re panting and oversensitive.

He finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes shine behind his glasses, and a proud little smile plays on his lips. "You okay? That looked like it felt really good."

You laugh breathlessly. "It was incredible… I didn’t know I could feel so sensitive down there."

Jake chuckles softly. "Good. That’s kind of the point of all this practice, right? Learning what you like." His hand slides over your body again, stopping just above your mound as his fingers trace lazy patterns across your skin. "Are you sure you want me to take your virginity? Your body’s already experienced so much tonight. Maybe you need a break."

You shake your head, caressing his face. "I don’t need a break. I just want to feel your cock inside me, please."

One of his hands drifts lower until his fingers reach your wet entrance, circling it slowly. "I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax and breathe out for me."

You do as he says, and he slowly presses two fingers inside you.

His longer fingers create a different sensation. The stretch borders on discomfort at first, making your walls clench tightly around the intrusion. "Ah— it’s tight," you whisper, gripping his shoulder. "It burns a little."

Jake freezes immediately. "Want me to stop? We can wait."

"No! Keep going. I want to get used to it."

He nods and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well… so warm and snug around my fingers. What if I curl them just a little?" He demonstrates, stroking your inner walls gently until he brushes against a spongy spot that sends sparks shooting up your spine.

"Oh!" Your eyes widen. "Right there… my God, that feels so good."

"I found your g-spot," he says, clearly proud of himself. He keeps the movements shallow and slow, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb draws gentle circles over your clit. The initial burning fades, turning into something hotter, slicker, and far more pleasurable.

"Add another one, Jake," you say after a few minutes, voice breathless. "I think I can take it."

Jake carefully slides a third finger in, the pressure increases and your walls flutter as they adjust to the stretch. Every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, while his thumb on your clit keeps the arousal building higher.

"Talk to me, babe," he says, eyes fixed on your face. "How does it feel now? Too much?"

"It’s full… stretching me," you moan, your hips starting to move in time with his hand. "But it’s turning into something really good. Faster on my clit— yes, like that. God, Jake, your fingers are so deep."

He picks up the pace a little, thrusting more firmly and creating an overwhelming sensation in the best way possible. The pleasure keeps intensifying until your breathing comes in short gasps and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. "I’m getting close again. Please don’t stop."

Jake leans down to kiss your stomach, murmuring encouragement. "Come on, come on my fingers. Let go for me, babe."

You moan loudly, back arching as the orgasm hits you harder than the ones before. A deep wave crashes through you, making your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. Jake keeps pumping slowly and carefully until the spasms ease, then gently pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. "Your taste is addictive."

Smiling you reach up to brush a messy strand of hair from his forehead. "Jake… I want to go all the way. I want to feel you inside me, please."

Jake’s breath catches, then he sits up properly and reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.

"You actually have these," you say with a light teasing note in your voice.

He looks at you with a shy smile as he opens the packet and rolls the condom down his length. "Hey, Heeseung isn’t the only one on campus who has sex, you know? A guy can be prepared even if he’s not out at every party." Jake hovers over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, leaning closer and gazing at your lips.

"Can I?" When you nod, he captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss filled with desire. His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, and then trail softly down the side of your neck, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. He takes his time, giving attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and fingers. Only when both of you are breathing heavier does he settle between your legs and position himself.

"Breathe with me, okay? Slow and easy." You nod, inhaling as he begins to push inside.

The initial pressure is intense — a wide, stretching fullness that makes your breath hitch. Your walls stretch around his thickness in an overwhelming way and your body tenses as he sinks into you inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. "Oh my God…"

Jake stops immediately. "Hey, hey… look at me," he says, his voice full of concern. He kisses you softly on the lips, then your nose and forehead. "Is it too much? We can wait. I hate the idea of hurting you, even for a second."

You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ease the discomfort. "It’s a lot… really full and there’s some burning, but I want this."

To distract you from the stretch and help your body relax around him, he kisses you again. It works — the pain slowly turns into pressure, and then into something hotter and more intimate. "Okay, you can move a little more now."

Jake slides forward inch by inch until he’s fully inside you — every part of him is wrapped tightly in your heat, making you feel so connected, so completely filled, with a pleasant throbbing where your bodies meet.

"God… you feel incredible," he breathes, staying still for a moment while buried deep inside you. He covers you with more kisses. "So warm and tight around me. Tell me how you feel, babe."

"Full," you sigh. "So deep… it’s starting to feel really good."

Smiling against your skin, he begins rocking his hips in small, gentle movements. Each shallow thrust glides along your inner walls, brushing that sensitive spot and sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body. Jake keeps his eyes on yours, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. "More kisses," you whisper softly, and he gives them freely — deep, passionate kisses that match the slow rhythm of his hips. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers beside your head as he sinks a little deeper and a little firmer. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm wave spreading from your center outward.

"You’re doing so well," he praises between kisses, his voice full of affection. "Look at you… my best friend, letting me do this. You feel perfect, so hot and slick around my cock." His free hand caresses your breast through your tank top, his thumb brushing your nipple in time with his movements, pulling more moans from you.

"Faster… just a little," you ask, voice breaking. "I want to feel more."

Jake obeys, finding a slow but steady rhythm that lets every thrust fill you completely, the head of his cock brushing that sweet spot over and over again. "Does this feel good for you too?" you ask between moans, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it.

"God, yes," he groans. "You’re squeezing me so tight, but right now it’s all about you. I want you to come like this if you can."

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts, learning the rhythm and experimenting with how it feels to clench around him. Jake’s glasses are completely fogged up and slipping down his nose, he pauses just long enough to take them off and set them aside, then kisses you deeply as he resumes his movements.

"I’m getting there," you moan against his mouth. "Please don’t stop, Jake."

"I’ve got you." He shifts slightly, sliding one hand between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your clit. The extra stimulation pushes you right over the edge. Your walls flutter and clench hard around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan loudly, nails digging into his back while your body pulses around him.

Jake keeps thrusting softly through your climax, murmuring praises. "That’s it… so good. You’re incredible." Only when you start to come down does he let himself go. His hips snap a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes with a low, shaky groan, filling the condom.

For a long moment afterward, he stays inside you while both of you catch your breath. Then he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and cleans you both with a warm cloth from the bathroom. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and full of concern. "No pain? I tried to be as gentle as possible."

You snuggle into the sheets, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and a deep sense of satisfaction. "I’m perfect. A little sore, but in a good way. You made my first time really special, Jake. You’re the best friend I could ask for."

The next morning, you wake up in his bed. The ache between your legs reminds you of everything — the careful way he touched you, the gentle thrusts, the tender kisses. It had all been perfect for your first time.

But as you slip out of bed carefully so you don’t wake him, a realization settles in your mind. It wasn’t enough. Not for what you really want.

Heeseung isn’t gentle. From the rumors, girls get pinned against walls, left breathless and marked. He likes control, intensity, rough hands. Jake would never give you that, even if you begged. He’s your best friend who worries about every little sound you make. He would never push your limits the way you suspect Heeseung would.

You also need to practice that side — the rougher kind of sex that leaves you deliciously sore, the kind that teaches you how to take and give back. You can’t show up to Heeseung soft and inexperienced if you want to stand out, if you want him to crave you for more than one night.

So you leave Jake a note on his desk. "Thank you for last night. Let’s talk soon," and head back to your dorm with a new determination.

────────

That weekend, the hockey team is throwing a big party at their off-campus house — an event that always draws a different crowd from the basketball scene. There’s no explosive feud between the teams, just a quiet rivalry and enough tension that basketball players rarely show up at hockey parties and vice versa. It’s perfect. No chance of running into Heeseung or his circle, and you need that space to level up without any complications.

You take extra time getting ready because you want to be noticed. You choose a short black dress that hugs your curves, the hem riding high on your thighs. It’s simple but dangerous — low neckline, thin straps, the kind of outfit that makes you feel powerful when you look in the mirror. You add a bit more makeup than usual, nothing too dramatic, and slip into heels that make your legs look longer.

The hockey house is already packed when you arrive. Hockey players in their varsity jackets, girls in tight dresses, and red solo cups everywhere. You grab a drink and wander through the crowd, heart racing with anticipation.

That’s when you see him.

Sunghoon, the captain of the hockey team, is standing near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter like he owns the place — and he does. He has a cold, almost untouchable aura that makes people shiver when he walks by. His teammates laugh around him, but he only offers a slight, distant smile, like he’s above it all.

Your eyes meet across the room and he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels down your body, taking in the dress you chose so carefully, before returning to your face. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — not warm like Jake’s, but something sharper, more predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t look away either. After all, that’s exactly why you came.

He pushes off the counter and makes his way through the crowd toward you. The suffocating tension hits you the second he stops right in front of you, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. "You don’t usually come to our parties," he says, his voice low as he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s already halfway to solving. "Or are you from the basketball crowd, doll?"

You take a sip of your drink to steady yourself. "Maybe I was waiting for the right night… Plus, hockey parties have a certain reputation."

A faint smile tugs at his lips as he steps a little closer, invading your space enough to make your pulse race. "Reputation for what, exactly?" He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne — something fresh and expensive that makes your head spin.

You shrug, trying to look calm. "Good music, strong drinks… You’re Sunghoon, right? The captain of the team. I’ve heard a lot about you." The words come out bolder than you expected, but they hit something in him and his gaze darkens.

He raises a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, making his impressively attractive biceps stand out. "I hope they’re good things."

You smile slightly. "Depends on who you ask. Some say you’re intense. Others say you’re… hard to keep up with."

Sunghoon studies you like he’s deciding something. The air between you grows heavier, and you can feel the pull — the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, before sliding back up. "And what do you think? Do you think you could keep up?"

The question makes your breath hitch. "I think it depends," you reply, taking a small step closer, letting the tension build until it feels almost unbearable. "Are you offering to find out?"

He leans in even closer, his lips hovering near your ear so only you can hear him, his warm breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. "Careful. Talking like that might get you more than you bargained for."

You turn your head just enough that your cheeks nearly touch. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for."

His hand settles on your lower back, firm and guiding, pulling you subtly closer. "Come upstairs with me," he says, his voice steady as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. "There’s a room up there. Quieter. We can… talk more."

This is it — the next step.

You nod, letting him guide you through the crowd toward the stairs with his hand still resting on your back as you climb the steps.

The door clicks softly shut behind you, and the room instantly feels much quieter than the chaos downstairs, lit only by the soft glow coming through the open window. Sunghoon leans back against the door without saying a word, simply watching you with a playful smile on his lips.

"So," he begins softly, pushing away from the door and walking toward you, "you showed up at a hockey party dressed like that, with your eyes on the captain. You’re either really brave or really curious. Which one is it?"

"Maybe both."

Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’ve been moving backward. "Bold. I like that, I don’t waste time with girls who don’t know what they want." He towers over you, his presence intense and dominant.

You swallow hard. "I know exactly what I want tonight. Someone who won’t hold back."

He leans in closer, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing firmly enough for you to feel his strength. "Careful what you wish for… You look like the type who melts easily, and I think I’d really enjoy finding out."

His gaze drops to your mouth, then returns to your eyes, dark and hungry. Without another word, his lips crash against yours in a deep, overwhelming kiss right from the first second. Sunghoon doesn’t take it slow like Jake — he claims your mouth completely, his tongue sliding against yours with raw intensity while his free hand moves up to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly the way he wants.

You try to match the intensity of his kiss, but it’s overwhelming — he devours every sigh and gasp that escapes you. When he finally pulls back enough for you to breathe, his eyes are darker, his lips slightly swollen. "Not bad," he murmurs, voice rough. "But you can do better, doll."

Before you can respond, he kisses you again, slower this time, pressing his body against yours so you can feel the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. Your stomach tightens with a mix of nerves and excitement.

"Come here." He takes your hand and guides you away from the wall toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls you close until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as you settle against him.

He pulls you into another deep kiss while one hand slides up your body and the other grips your thigh. You rock lightly in his lap, feeling him grow even harder beneath you, and he lets out a low groan into your mouth. "You’re so fucking hot. I want to see what else that pretty mouth can do." His fingers trace your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Get on your knees for me. Show me what that mouth is capable of."

Your heart stutters because his words hit you hard — part excitement, part panic. On your knees. Sucking him. You’ve never given a blowjob before.

You slide slowly off Sunghoon’s lap and drop to your knees, your hands shaking as you reach for the button of his jeans and try to pull down the zipper. Reality crashes over you: you’re on your knees for the hockey team captain, about to give him head with zero experience.

His eyes narrow the moment he notices the tremor in your hands and the hesitation in your movements. A low, cruel, mocking laugh escapes him. "Wait." He reaches down, gripping your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You’ve never done this before, have you?"

Biting your lip, you shake your head. "No… I’ve never done it."

Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t soften with pity. Instead, it sharpens with something darker — satisfaction mixed with pure control. He releases your chin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you like you’re a player who needs to learn the drill.

"Good, I like honesty. So you’re going to listen carefully. I’m not in the mood for guessing games tonight. You want to learn? I’ll teach you, and you follow my instructions. Got it, dol?"

You swallow hard and nod again.

"Words," he commands, cold and firm. "Use your words when I ask you something."

"Yes," you repeat, your voice steadier this time. "I understand."

He gives a small nod of approval. "Good girl. Now unzip me."

You obey, slowly pulling the zipper down. Sunghoon lifts his hips slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers low enough to free his cock. It springs out, hard and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum.

His hand rests on the back of your neck, not pushing, but guiding. "Look up at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t just stare at it like you’re lost. Wrap your hand around the base and feel the weight."

Your fingers are still trembling as you obey, curling them around his thick length. He feels incredibly warm and heavy in your palm, the skin smooth over steel. You give an experimental squeeze, watching his reaction.

"Yes, just like that," he praises coolly, like he’s directing a teammate on the ice. "Now stroke up and down. Keep a firm grip. That’s it— good. Don’t be shy."

You pump your hand firmly, finding a rhythm that makes Sunghoon’s breathing grow a little deeper, but he keeps complete control, his eyes locked on you the entire time. "Spit on it, get it nice and wet. Good girls make it sloppy."

You gather saliva and let it drip onto the head, using your hand to spread it all over his length. The wet sounds that follow make your face burn even hotter, but the way his cock twitches in your grip sends a shiver through you.

His fingers twist into your hair with enough force for you to feel it, then he pulls you closer to his throbbing length. "Now use your mouth. Start with the head, wrap your lips around it, no teeth. Suck gently while you swirl your tongue."

Your heart races as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting a man’s cock for the first time — slightly salty, but surprisingly good. Your tongue moves in slow, hesitant circles, trying to find the rhythm you think will feel best for him.

"Eyes up," he orders sharply. "Look at me while you do it. That’s good, but take me deeper now. Relax your throat, don’t force it. Move your head slowly and keep stroking the part you can’t reach."

You open wider and take him deeper. It feels strange at first — the stretch of your jaw, the way he fills your mouth, the occasional gag when you go too far, causing tears to gather at the corners of your eyes.

"Relax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Faster with your tongue on the underside. Use your hand in sync with your mouth."

You follow every instruction carefully, the clear commands making it easier despite your inexperience. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds as your mouth works on him — licking, sucking, and your hand sliding smoothly along his cock. Sunghoon’s thighs tense under your free hand, and his voice grows a little rougher, though still tightly controlled. "Hollow your cheeks more when you pull back. Take me deeper whenever you can, I want to feel the back of your throat."

Pushing yourself, you take him deeper until your nose brushes his stomach, triggering a light gag. You try to hold it, but end up sliding back up, gasping for air. A thick string of saliva connects his cock to your mouth, and his grip tightens in your hair, the slight sting only heightening the moment.

"Not bad for your first time. Now focus on the head again. Suck harder while you move faster. Yeah— just like that. You’re gonna make me come if you keep going."

You throw yourself into it completely, determined to get better so you can do this perfectly for Heeseung one day. Your hand and mouth work together, faster and sloppier now, until Sunghoon’s breathing turns heavier and his abs tighten visibly.

"Fuck— keep your eyes on me," he growls, his voice dropping lower. "I’m close. When I come, you swallow. Every drop. Understand, doll?"

You murmur something unintelligible around him, the vibration drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. His hand guides you with a little more firmness now as his hips begin to rock, meeting your mouth with each movement. His dominance is intoxicating — no endless questions, no overthinking, just clear and commanding direction that pushes you exactly where he wants you.

With one last deep thrust into your mouth and a low groan, he comes. Hot spurts hit the back of your throat as you swallow desperately, trying not to gag while you take everything he gives you, your hand still gently stroking him through it.

Sunghoon holds you there for a few more seconds before finally releasing your hair and letting you pull back. You release his cock with a wet pop, your lips swollen and glistening. He looks down at you with that same cool satisfaction, his thumb brushing a stray string of saliva from your chin. "Clean every inch with your tongue."

You nod and obey, licking him carefully with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue until he’s completely clean.

"Good," he says, his voice satisfied. "Now come here."

He pulls you up from your knees and back onto his lap, guiding you into a deep kiss that’s slower and less aggressive than the one against the wall, yet still possessive. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting himself on you, letting out a soft groan against your lips.

"You did well for your first time," he praises quietly as he pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. "A little messy, but eager. I like that. You look even better with that flushed face after sucking me off, doll."

The praise sends a warm flutter through your stomach, and before you can respond, Sunghoon moves, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "You’ve never sucked a cock before… so I’m going to ask. Are you a virgin?"

You shake your head quickly. "No, I’m not."

A flash of relief crosses his face, quickly replaced by a darker, almost predatory smile. "Good. That’s actually perfect. It means I don’t have to be gentle with you." His hand glides along your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart. "I hate holding back."

Two of his long fingers press against your entrance, finding you already soaked from everything that’s happened. He pushes your panties aside and slides them inside you in one smooth motion. His fingers are noticeably longer than Jake’s, reaching places that instantly make your breath hitch.

"Fuck, you’re so tight. You sure you’re not a virgin, doll? Because you’re squeezing me like one." He starts moving right away, no slow buildup, no endless questions about how you feel, just his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm — faster and deeper — while his thumb rubs firm circles over your clit.

You gasp, arching your back off the bed as his long fingers reach so deep that they stroke that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. "Sunghoon—" you moan, clutching his shoulders.

"Eyes on me." His free hand pins your wrists above your head while the other moves faster, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. He watches every reaction on your face, adjusting the intensity until you’re writhing beneath him. "You’re already soaking my hand, doll. Come on, let me feel you come around my fingers."

He adds a third finger, pushing deeper and curling harder against that spot while his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. The combination is overwhelming — fast, deep strokes that tighten the pleasure in your core until your thighs start trembling around his hand.

"I… oh God…" Your words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with every wave, but Sunghoon doesn’t slow down, he keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, hypersensitive and completely spent.

Only then does he pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips for a quick taste while he looks down at you with dark satisfaction. "You taste so good, doll."

Without wasting another second, he shoves the rest of his pants and boxers down and climbs fully on top of you. "Arms up." You lift them without hesitation and he pulls your dress off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. Your bra follows immediately, exposing your breasts to the cool air. In the same motion, he squeezes one firmly, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, then leans down to suck it, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

"These are perfect," he murmurs against your skin before moving to the other. His free hand yanks your panties down your legs in one swift pull, leaving you completely naked beneath him. Sunghoon sits back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming over your bare body with cool appreciation. "Perfect. You’re perfect, doll."

He positions himself between your spread thighs, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance. Only then do you realize there’s no condom. This is going to be the first time you feel someone raw. "Wait, Sunghoon…"

"I’m clean," he says dryly, reading your hesitation perfectly. "We’re good." He doesn’t say anything else, simply pushing forward and sinking the thick head of his cock into you with one precise thrust.

With no latex barrier, you feel every inch of him — hot, hard, and completely bare. The stretch is more intense than it was with Jake, deeper and fuller in a way that makes your walls flutter and clench tightly around him. A low moan escapes you as he sinks even deeper, filling you completely until his hips press flush against yours.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Sunghoon groans, closing his eyes for a brief second before locking his gaze on your face again. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, starting to move with long, deep strokes that brush every sensitive spot inside you while he watches your every reaction, every gasp, fucking you with firm control.

You grab onto his arms, your nails digging crescent moons into his skin. "Sunghoon… it’s so deep like this." Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs.

He kisses you hard again, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward faster, growing more intense. The pleasure feels stronger than your first time because there’s nothing between you, but after a few minutes, Sunghoon suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and whimpering.

"On your knees. Face down, ass up," he orders. "I need to go deeper. I want to watch this ass bounce while I fuck you stupid."

You get on all fours, feeling incredibly exposed with your ass up and back arched. The vulnerability of this new position you’ve never tried before sends a fresh wave of nerves through you. Sunghoon kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks slightly as he lines himself up again.

He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The new angle lets him go incredibly deeper, the head of his cock pressing against spots you didn’t even know existed. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. "Oh my God, it’s so much deeper like this."

Sunghoon groans in satisfaction. "That’s exactly what I wanted." His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts fucking you with more intensity. His thrusts are relentless, hips snapping forward with a force that makes your entire body shake.

One hand slides up your back and fists in your hair, pulling your head back sharply and arching you even more. "Fuck, look at you taking it so well like this."

His other hand comes down hard on your ass, a firm slap that makes the flesh jiggle and sting deliciously, drawing a loud moan from you. He spanks the other cheek, then again, alternating while he keeps pounding into you.

Without a condom, you feel every vein, every ridge, the way his cock stretches and fills you completely with every powerful thrust. "This ass looks even better when it’s moving for me," he says, landing another harder slap. Your arms tremble, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter in your core. "You’re clenching so fucking hard. You like it rough like this, don’t you?"

"Yes," you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, please."

He obeys without hesitation, fucking you with punishing force that makes the bed creak beneath you and his balls slap against you with every deep stroke. "Touch yourself, rub your clit while I fuck you."

You slide a hand between your legs, circling your swollen clit. Another sharp slap lands on your ass, the sting spreading hot across your skin and making you clench hard around him. "Fuck, do that again, doll." He delivers one more firm spank, then squeezes the reddened flesh possessively. "You’re dripping all over my cock, soaking the sheets like a good girl."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm, the sharp tugs on your hair, the stinging slaps, and the overwhelming depth of this position, push you straight over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard, your walls pulsing and contracting tightly around his bare cock as waves of pleasure crash through you. You moan loudly into the mattress, your whole body shaking.

Sunghoon doesn’t slow down at all — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. "I’m gonna come," he growls. After a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and groans as he fills you with hot pulses of cum, spilling deep inside you for the first time. The sensation is new and overwhelming — warm, wet, and so intimately raw that it makes your mind spin.

Sunghoon collapses beside you on the bed and pulls you against his chest, lazily stroking your back. "You should come to our parties more often. Those basketball idiots don’t deserve someone like you at their parties."

────────

Not everything is about the plan. After all, you are still in college — assignments pile up and deadlines approach without caring about your personal obsessions. When the professor pairs you with Jay for the next project, you don’t think much of it, you just need to finish the work as quickly as possible so you can get back to your plan.

The second-floor library was strangely quiet that night. Most students have already left, and the few who remain are buried in their books. You and Jay sit at a secluded table in a corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves that give you a sense of privacy.

Jay sits across from you, looking effortlessly attractive in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms. You’ve been discussing the project for nearly an hour, but the conversation slowly drifts away from the assignment and becomes more personal.

"You always seem so put-together," you say with a small smile. "Even during finals week. How do you do it?"

Jay chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. "Coffee. A lot of coffee… You’ve been glowing lately. There’s a new confidence in class. It looks good on you."

Your cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you. I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone lately."

"I noticed and it’s honestly really attractive." The compliment is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Jay’s voice drops lower as he continues. "You know, it’s easy to talk to you… and easy to look at, too."

You laugh, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. "You’re not bad yourself. Always so polite and charming... It’s kind of dangerous."

His smile widens, and then he reaches across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against yours. The touch is gentle but sends a spark through you, making the library feel even quieter now, like the rest of the world has disappeared and only the two of you remain behind the shelves.

Before you can overthink it, Jay leans forward over the table. "Come here."

You meet him halfway, and the kiss starts soft and sweet at first — a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens as he tilts his head. Jay kisses with care and skill, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other rests on the table for balance. It feels good, warm, and surprisingly right.

When he finally pulls back, breathing a little faster, he whispers. "No one’s around… Come sit with me."

He gently pulls you around the table and onto his lap. Your legs part over his thighs, the skirt riding up as he settles you against him and wraps one arm securely around your waist.

"Jay," a nervous laugh escapes you as you glance at the shelves surrounding you. "We’re in the library… Someone could walk by any second."

"It’s okay," his hand traces slow circles on your lower back while the other rests on your thigh. "Look around, it’s almost empty, and the shelves block most of the view." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. "We’ll be quiet. I just want to be close to you for a little while… if you’re okay with it."

Sitting on his lap like this in a public place feels incredibly bold, but Jay’s gentle confidence makes your hesitation melt away. "It’s okay," he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. "Just relax. It’s just us right now."

You kiss him back, and it doesn’t take long for your hips to start moving almost on their own, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction feels good even through your clothes — a slow, delicious rhythm that builds heat between your legs. Jay lets out a low hum of approval against your mouth, his hand squeezing your thigh encouragingly.

"That’s good… really good." His hips continue moving in deliberate circles, letting you feel him hardening beneath you — the thick outline pressing right against your core.

The kiss deepens as he traces your lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, and you open for him. "Yeah… keep doing that." One of his hands slides up to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb, while the other guides your hips, helping you find a rhythm that feels even better. "You’re driving me crazy doing this… it feels so good."

Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his gaze is dark with desire but still incredibly gentle. "Do you want to do this here?" he asks, thumb caressing your hip. "We don’t have to… but if you’re comfortable, I need you right now."

You quickly glance around — there’s still no one nearby. "Yes." The certainty in your voice surprises even you. "I want to."

He pulls you into another kiss, deep and reassuring, before reaching between your bodies to push his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out — long and incredibly thick, the head flushed red and already glistening. It’s bigger than you expected, heavy, with prominent veins.

Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness. "Jay… you’re really big. I don’t know if I can take all of that."

He cups your face with both hands, noticing your nerves. "Hey… look at me. We don’t have to rush anything, and if it’s too much, we stop, I promise." A soft, caring expression takes over as thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. "We’ll go really slow… I’ll make sure it feels good for you."

You nod, biting your lower lip. "Okay. I trust you."

One hand stays on your waist while the other guides his thick cock, rubbing the head against your soaked panties, teasing your entrance through the fabric. "Move your panties to the side for me."

With trembling hands, you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull it aside. The cool air hits your wet folds, making you shiver. Jay helps by tugging your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. Only then does he position himself at your entrance — the blunt head of his cock brushing against your slick pussy. "When you’re ready."

You take a deep breath and start sinking down, the stretch is immediate and intense — almost too much. His thickness slowly pushes your walls apart as you lower yourself, inch by inch. A soft moan escapes your lips from the burning sensation and the way he fills you so completely. It’s deeper than anything you’ve felt before, his huge size presses against every sensitive spot inside you.

Jay groans, tilting his head back for a moment. "Fuck… you’re so tight. Take it slow, angel. You’re doing so well."

You pause halfway, breathing deeply to ease the burning feeling. It’s almost uncomfortable, but the raw heat of him, bare and deep, sends sparks of pleasure through the stretch. Determined, you continue lowering yourself until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your walls fluttering as they try to adjust to his enormous length.

For a few seconds, you stay still, adjusting to the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside you. Jay’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as his lips brush your temple. "You’re perfect, angel. Taking me so well... Tell me when you want to move."

You start experimenting, at first moving simply — rising and sinking as you’ve seen in porn videos. The motion drags him along your walls, creating delicious friction, but it feels a little awkward. It feels good for him, his groans make that clear, but it isn’t quite hitting the right spots for you.

"This is incredible," he says honestly. "But I want you to feel good too. You don’t have to just go up and down. Grind on me… roll your hips in circles, and when you bounce, use your whole body. Let me guide you, angel."

He gently guides you with his hands on your hips, and you follow, shifting from simple up and down movements to a smooth, rolling grind. The change is instant — his thick cock now rubs perfectly against your front wall, pressing hard into that sensitive spot with every circle of your hips, making a sharp moan escape you. "Yes, just like that. Feel how deep I am when you roll your hips? Now try bouncing while you do that."

You combine the movements — lifting and dropping while rolling your hips on the way down. Each bounce takes him incredibly deep, his cockhead dragging against places that make your toes curl. The stretch remains intense because he’s almost too big, creating a delicious burn.

Jay groans louder, and one hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck as he kisses you again. "Yes… fuck, you’re riding me so well. Look at you, angel." His other hand stays on your hip, guiding you to bounce harder.

The praise makes you bolder. You brace your hands on his shoulders for balance and start bouncing faster, moving up and down while grinding. Jay is so big that you can feel his cock reaching deep into your stomach, creating a profound pressure that makes your head spin.

Your newfound confidence makes him throb inside you as Jay starts thrusting up to meet you, the added force sending waves of pleasure through your core. "Deeper… like this," you moan.

Jay’s hands roam all over your body — squeezing your ass, caressing your breasts over your shirt, pulling you down for more kisses. He doesn’t take full control, letting you lead while offering guidance and praise. "That’s it… move just like that. You’re getting so wet for me. You look so beautiful riding my cock."

The pleasure builds quickly, a deep, spreading heat that consumes your entire body. You lean forward, changing the angle, and cry out when you hit an even more sensitive spot. Jay groans, holding you tighter. "Right there? Good girl. Keep going, take what you need."

You moan loudly, burying your face in his neck as the orgasm crashes through you violently. Your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock, pulsing and milking him while you keep bouncing, pushing him over the edge right after. He groans, thrusting his hips up against you as he cums deep inside, filling you with hot, thick pulses of cum.

Once you both come down, Jay lifts your chin and kisses you again, his tongue moves lazily against yours, savoring the moment. You kiss him back, feeling his cock still twitching softly inside you.

"You were incredible, angel," he whispers between kisses, smiling against your lips. "So beautiful riding me like that."

Jay’s hands run gently down your back, his gaze dropping to your chest. "Can I see more of you?"

You nod, and he doesn’t waste a single second, pulls your blouse up just enough to free your breasts. The cool air of the library makes your nipples harden instantly. "Perfect,” you sigh softly as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

He sucks harder, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud with a careful bite that makes you moan and clench around his cock, which is still buried deep inside you. Switching to the other breast, he gives it the same attention — kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. You roll your hips slowly in his lap, savoring the way his cock twitches inside you every time he sucks harder.

"You’re so sensitive here," he murmurs against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses between your breasts. "I could spend hours doing this."

You let out a soft, needy sound, holding his head closer to your chest as he continues marking you with his mouth — sucking hard enough to leave hickeys that will remind you of this moment later. He’s getting hard again inside you, growing thicker and longer, pressing against your sensitive walls.

"Fuck, you’re making me hard again. The way you squeeze around me while I suck on these… you’re driving me crazy." Suddenly, Jay’s arms tighten around you and, in one swift movement, he stands up.

"Jay—!" you gasp, clutching his shoulders.

"I’ve got you," he says carefully, sitting you on the edge of the table with his cock still buried deep inside you. "I need to move for a bit. Okay, angel? Tell me if it’s too much."

Before you can respond, he starts fucking you at his own pace — deep, powerful thrusts that make your body shake on the table. The angle is perfect, making his thick cock drags along every inch of your walls with each stroke.

You try to stay quiet, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and moans far too loud for the silent library keep escaping. "Ah— Jay!"

He quickly covers your mouth with his hand while continuing to thrust firmly. "Shh, angel." His hips snap forward a little harder, testing your silence. "You have to stay quiet… someone might hear."

Even with his palm muffling your sounds, the deep thrusts still pull muffled but audible moans from you. Jay glances around nervously, unsure what to do because stopping isn’t an option, so he makes a quick decision. He pulls his cock out, reaches for your panties, which was pulled to the side this whole time, tugs the wet fabric free and then he pushes it between your lips.

"I’m sorry," he whispers immediately as he slides back inside you with a deep thrust. "I hate doing this… but I don’t want us to get caught, okay?"

You nod slightly, eyes watering from the intensity, but the gag works — your next moan comes out completely muffled. "You’re being so good for me, so wet and tight." Jay returns to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while he continues fucking you senseless.

His pace quickens, hips snapping harder against yours as he tries to keep control. The risk of getting caught and the feeling of you around him push him closer to the edge. "Cum for me. I’m close too… let go, angel."

You scream into the gag, your body shaking in his arms as you cum hard, and the sensation of your walls pulsing around him sends Jay over the edge right after. He buries himself as deep as possible and cums inside you with hot, intense pulses.

Still buried inside you, he strokes your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible… so responsive and beautiful."

A shy smile tugs at your lips. "You were incredible too."

He runs his thumb across your flushed cheek. "I’d love to do this again someday… if you want. Maybe somewhere more private next time, so I can take my time with you."

Biting your lower lip, you nod. "I’d like that. A lot, actually."

That night, back in your dorm, you realize something: during those hours with Jay, you didn’t think about Heeseung even once because you were completely lost in the moment — in his gentle touches, his warm voice, and the way he made you feel so good.

────────

The basketball team has just won a home game. The crowd is still roaring and the players are celebrating in the middle of the court. Sitting in the stands, you spot Ni-ki — Heeseung’s close friend and teammate. He’s younger than the others but carries himself with an easy, playful confidence.

When the court finally quiets down and the players start heading toward the locker rooms, you walk calmly through the internal hallways of the building, following the path that leads to the locker room area. To avoid being seen by Heeseung, you hide behind a pillar. From there, you have a perfect view of anyone leaving the locker room, while people passing through the hallway are unlikely to notice you.

A few minutes pass before the door opens. A group of players steps out, talking loudly, and Heeseung is right in the middle of them. You press yourself tighter against the pillar, holding your breath as he walks by, laughing at some joke.

More athletes leave after that until the hallway falls completely silent. Knowing most people have already gone and the risk of seeing Heeseung has passed, you finally step out of your hiding spot and walk to a brighter, more visible part of the corridor, right near the door.

When Ni-ki comes out, his eyes land on you almost immediately. He slows his steps, tilting his head with clear interest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No way. You actually waited? Most girls chase after the captain." He stops right in front of you, looking you up and down without even trying to hide it. "Damn, you look dangerous."

You feel a flutter in your stomach but smile back at him. "I thought the guy who kept stealing the ball and grinning like he owned the court deserved some attention tonight."

Ni-ki laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. "You’re bold, huh? I like that." He steps a little closer, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "So what’s your deal? Are you a basketball fan or did you just come here to make my day way more interesting?"

There’s a seductive tease in his voice — arrogant but fun. He clearly likes what he sees and isn’t shy about showing it. "Because if you’re here for me, you should probably tell me your name before I start calling you ‘mine’ in front of the whole team."

If you play this right, he might casually mention you to the team later, and Heeseung would hear your name and maybe get curious. But if you mess up and come across as too eager or awkward, Ni-ki could joke about it in the locker room and ruin everything before you even get close. Still, you trust yourself. "It’s y/n."

"y/n," he repeats, like he’s savoring the sound. "Nice. It suits you. So, y/n… do you always wait outside the locker rooms after games looking this good, or did I just get lucky today?"

"Only when the player on the court is showing off like he’s trying to impress someone."

Ni-ki moves even closer. "Ah, so you were really watching me? Careful, I might get too cocky." He tilts his head, his eyes tracing your face before dropping to your lips. "Or maybe that’s exactly what you want. To make me arrogant enough to do something about the pretty girl who showed up just for me."

His gaze continues sliding down from your lips, appreciating the way your top hugs your body. Suddenly, Ni-ki glances around, checking if anyone is nearby. The hallway is empty. Without warning, he grabs your hand with a grin. "Come with me for a second."

He pulls you into the locker room, but not near the entrance. He keeps guiding you deeper inside, past a small entryway and around the corner of the main area, where he presses your body against the wall. The tension that has been building finally snaps. Cupping your face with one hand, he kisses you with raw hunger — his lips moving against yours with confidence as his tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, a cocky little smirk on his face. "Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined."

He presses you harder against the wall and slides one thigh between your legs, creating just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. "You’re so fucking addictive." His hands slip under your top, warm palms gliding over your skin and sending shivers through you.

Suddenly, Ni-ki drops to his knees in front of you, looking up with an even more mischievous smile. "I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you waiting outside." His hands move quickly, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down along with your panties. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.

Ni-ki presses his mouth against your pussy like he’s starving for it — voracious and rough. His tongue licks long, wet stripes from your entrance up to your clit before swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God — Ni-ki…" you moan, one hand flying to his messy hair.

He moans against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "You taste so good." His tongue dives inside you, licking and savoring every inch like he can’t get enough. Messy and eager, his lips suck on your folds before focusing back on your clit with small, hungry sucks and licks.

He eats you out like he wants to memorize every taste, every reaction — switching between long, slow licks that make your toes curl and faster movements that force you to bite your lip to stay quiet.

"Ni-ki… that feels so good." He looks up at you while his mouth works, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart for him.

Ni-ki murmurs in response and doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue moves fast. "Ni-ki… fuck, right there," you gasp, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair as your hips start grinding against his face.

He slides two fingers inside you while his tongue keeps working your clit, curling them instantly against that perfect spot.

Your breathing turns ragged, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. "I… I’m gonna—" you try to warn him, voice breaking, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sucks harder on your clit and pumps his fingers faster.

Your whole body locks up for a second before a violent tremor runs through you. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as your clit pulses wildly against his tongue.

Ni-ki groans proudly against you, licking you through every wave, addicted to the way you fall apart. He keeps going until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he finally pull back, lips glossy and swollen. "Shit, you come so beautifully."

He rises to his feet with a satisfied smirk and pulls you into another kiss so you can taste yourself on his tongue, his hands grip your waist, pressing your body against his. "You’re so sweet. I could eat you every day, all day long."

You open your mouth to respond, but the metallic click of the main door handle cuts through the air.

You both freeze and footsteps echo on the tiled floor, accompanied by a familiar voice humming something.

It’s Jungwon — another teammate, the point guard.

"Shit." Ni-ki quickly grabs your hand and pulls you toward the shower area with its open stalls and curtains. Yanking one curtain aside, he guides you inside, and presses your back against the cold tiled wall.

The footsteps grow louder, closer. "Hey, is anyone still in here?" Jungwon’s voice sounds casual, like he heard something and decided to check.

Ni-ki presses a finger to your lips, leaning in so close that his warm breath brushes your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispers, almost inaudible.

Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but Ni-ki doesn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, the risk seems to excite him even more. Jungwon’s footsteps get closer, and right at that exact moment, Ni-ki pushes two fingers inside you without any warning. Your eyes widen and a sharp gasp almost escapes before you bite down hard on your lip.

He curls his fingers instantly, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with ease, a small mischievous smirk on his face as he watches your reaction. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, while his thumb presses firmly against your swollen clit.

Trembling violently, you bury your face in his neck, desperately trying to muffle the moans threatening to spill out. "Shhh," Ni-ki whispers right against your ear, but his fingers don’t stop — deep, curling thrusts that make your knees buckle. "You’re squeezing me so tight. Does almost getting caught turn you on?"

You nod frantically and bite down on his shoulder through his shirt to stay quiet as Jungwon moves just a few meters away. Ni-ki’s thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster, making your thighs shake and your walls flutter uncontrollably around him as you fight to stay silent. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.

Jungwon’s voice echoes again, closer this time. "I heard noises coming from here. Who the hell is in here?"

Noticing Jungwon getting closer, Ni-ki curls his fingers harder, rubbing your sweet spot relentlessly while his thumb works your clit in fast, precise circles. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a silent scream against his neck as pleasure peaks. Your pussy clenches violently around his fingers, dripping as waves of spasms run through you.

Finally, Jungwon’s footsteps retreat. The door opens and closes again. The second it does, Ni-ki pulls his fingers out and kisses you hard, swallowing the broken moan that finally escapes you.

Without breaking the kiss, he tugs down his basketball shorts and boxers in one quick motion, freeing his hard, thick, flushed cock. It’s already leaking at the tip from how turned on he is after eating you out and fingering you.

You reach for him without thinking — and without really knowing what you’re doing — wrapping your hand around his length and stroking slowly at first. You feel the heat and the way he pulses hot against your palm as your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the precum. "You’re so hard… I can feel how much you want this."

"Yeah? Then let me have you." He quickly helps you pull your jeans and panties all the way down your legs, kicking them aside before pressing you against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. One hand grips your thigh as he lines himself up and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, burying his cock deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch makes you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming fullness after everything that’s already happened.

He fucks you against the wall with firm, deep thrusts, his hips snapping forward while he holds you in place. "Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you harder, each movement pressing you against the tiles. "So wet and tight."

"Ni-ki… you’re so deep," your voice trembles with pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Don’t stop… it feels so good."

He keeps going like that for a while, fucking you firmly against the wall with his hands gripping your ass. But soon the position isn’t enough for him, with a low grunt, he suddenly lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you let out a muffled cry as he starts bouncing you on his cock, thrusting up with hungry movements that make your breasts bounce inside your top.

"Yes, like that… it feels so good," you moan while he fucks you in the air, your back pressed against the wall for leverage as he holds you like you’re weightless. The sensation is intense, every thrust hits so deep it makes your head spin and your toes curl.

"Open your mouth." He brings two fingers to your lips. "Suck them for me. I want to feel that pretty mouth while I fuck you."

You part your lips obediently and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them eagerly while he keeps thrusting into you. His cock twitches at the feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers, the taste of you still lingers on them from earlier, making you moan around them.

"That’s it," he says, eyes locked on your face as he watches you suck his fingers while bouncing you on his cock. "You look so fucking hot like this. Keep sucking just like that."

You do exactly that, swirling your tongue and sucking harder as he drives deep inside you, clearly losing himself in how good it feels.

You pull off his fingers with a wet pop and gasp, "Ni-ki… I’m so close again. I’m gonna come."

With a mischievous smirk, he pushes his fingers back into your mouth, moving them in time with his cock as he fucks you harder against the wall. "Then come for me again. I want to feel you squeezing my cock while you suck my fingers."

The dirty words combined with his relentless pace finally push you over the edge. You moan loudly around his fingers as your legs tighten around his waist. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you, making your entire body shake in his arms.

Ni-ki groans at the feeling of you coming and his thrusts turn erratic. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard inside you, pulsing with hot spurts while holding you firmly against the wall.

After a moment, he finally lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor again, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, he stays nestled inside your heat, kissing you slowly and almost lazily, like he isn’t ready to end the moment yet. "Fuck… that was incredible. And honestly? That was the best post-game sex I’ve ever had. No joke. I’m gonna be thinking about this pussy for days."

You let out a soft giggle, cheeks burning. "Really? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly after this."

Surprisingly gentle, he laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek before finally pulling out slowly. Both of you hiss at the loss. "That’s actually great. Means you’ll be thinking about me too. When can we do this again? After the next game, or maybe after every practice?"

────────

​The basketball team had crushed their biggest rival that night, and the victory party at the massive off-campus house is going to be loud, chaotic, and packed with people. This is the moment you’ve been carefully preparing for with every practice session and every new experience. Tonight is the night.

You choose a bold black dress that clings to your body like a second skin, short enough to show off your legs and thighs, with a neckline that reveals just enough to be daring. Your hair is styled exactly the way you like it, and your makeup is flawless, enhancing your features in a way that makes you feel powerful. When you look in the mirror, you look like someone who belongs in Heeseung’s world.

When you arrive at the party, the music is already pulsing through the walls, bodies are moving everywhere, and the air smells like alcohol and sweat. Your eyes scan the room until they find him.

Heeseung is sitting on the large couch in the main room like he owns the place — which he basically does. Two girls are practically draped over him. One is half in his lap, her hand resting possessively on his chest, while he has one arm casually around the other girl, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder as he talks to his teammates.

Spotting Ni-ki nearby, chatting with some of the other players, you walk toward him with confident steps because you aren’t going straight to Heeseung. No — you’re going to make him come to you. Ni-ki’s eyes light up with immediate recognition and interest.

"I can’t believe you’re here," he says with a grin as he pulls you into a side hug that lasts a second longer than necessary. "You look dangerous tonight. Come here, I want you to meet some of the guys."

You laugh softly and stay close to him, letting him introduce you to some of his teammates, including Jungwon. Your cheeks heat up as you remember that moment in the locker room, and when you glance to the side, Heeseung is watching — the girls are still around him, but his eyes are locked on you, following every move you make.

Ni-ki leans in and whispers in your ear, "You know, I still can’t stop thinking about that day in the locker room. Jungwon almost catching us… My fingers buried so deep inside you while you tried so hard not to moan. I’ve been replaying that shit all week."

Your face flushes instantly and the memory makes your thighs press together in a rush of heat. "Ni-ki…" you whisper back, half embarrassed and half turned on, "you can’t just say that here."

You’re too focused on Ni-ki to notice Heeseung pushing the girl off his lap, standing up, and walking over with his usual confidence. He stops right in front of you, his gaze shifting between you and Ni-ki, who is still grinning widely.

"What’s so funny over here?" Heeseung asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You two look like you’re sharing secrets."

You freeze for a second before answering quickly, a little too fast. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Come on. Nothing stays hidden from the captain, especially when my teammate is standing here grinning like an idiot and you’re looking all flustered." He steps closer, his full attention now on you. "Gonna tell me what got you so worked up, pretty?"

Ni-ki’s playful smile fades, replaced by something closer to jealousy as he watches the captain focus entirely on you. "We're just messing around. It's fun talking to y/n, that's all."

Heeseung looks you up and down slowly, taking in the way the dress hugs every curve of your body. "Want a drink? I can’t have you standing here empty-handed."

"Yeah… I’d like that."

Ni-ki’s jaw tightens as he glances between the two of you, clearly not happy about being sidelined, but he knows better than to push it with Heeseung. "Catch you later, y/n," he says, giving you one last look filled with a mix of jealousy and desire before disappearing into the crowd.

Now it’s just you and Heeseung.

He guides you toward the kitchen, his hand lightly brushing your lower back. “So… y/n,” he says, savoring your name like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. "You show up at my party looking like sin, talking to my boy while wearing this little dress that makes everyone wonder what you’re hiding underneath." A mischievous smile curves his lips as his eyes flick to your mouth for a moment. "You gonna let me find out, or are you just here to tease?"

You feel yourself getting wet just from the way he’s looking at you — that hungry stare and confident tone making your panties stick to you. "Talking about what I’m hiding under this dress already? We just got to the kitchen… but yeah, I might let you discover it." Your voice comes out bold because you refuse to sound nervous now, after waiting so long for this moment.

Deep down, all you can think about is how badly you want him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless.

Heeseung’s smile deepens, a flash of satisfaction crossing his face. He glances around to make sure no one is paying too much attention, then leans in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "There’s an empty room upstairs. Third door on the left, go up in a few minutes. I’ll follow right after so no one notices."

He pulls back, sliding his hand slowly along your waist before disappearing into the crowd. You wait a few minutes, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves, but it barely helps — the ache between your legs only grows with every passing second. After exactly five minutes, you head up the stairs and find the third door already slightly ajar. You step inside with shaky, anticipatory breaths.

Moments later, Heeseung appears. He closes the door firmly behind him and locks it.

The second the lock clicks, he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, intense kiss. He bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, then does it again harder just to hear you whimper.

His hands slide down to grip your ass firmly under the dress, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants.

"Fuck, this ass feels even better than it looks in that dress," he growls against your mouth, squeezing harder and spreading your cheeks. The kiss deepens, his tongue dominating yours while he continues kneading and groping your ass like he can’t get enough.

Heeseung’s mischievous smirk returns when he hears you moan into the kiss. He doesn’t break it as he walks you backward toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pushes you down and climbs on top of you.

A string of saliva connects his lips to yours when he pulls back to strip your dress off in one quick motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of your body.

"Look at you… such a pretty little slut, all dressed up for who? For me?" His hands make quick work of unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before he drags your panties down your legs and throws them away too, leaving you completely naked and exposed for him.

With a firm hand, Heeseung spreads your legs wide, getting a perfect view of your glistening, dripping pussy. "Already so wet for me, but it’s not enough." Suddenly he leans down and spits directly on your pussy, the warm string of saliva hitting your clit and dripping down your folds. The sight makes his rock-hard cock twitch inside his pants so he does it again, spitting a second time, then spreads it with two fingers, rubbing the wetness all over. "Gonna get this pussy nice and sloppy for me."

You moan loudly at the filthy feeling of his saliva sliding through your folds — hips jerk while your pussy clenches around nothing.

Heeseung drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke that makes you gasp. When you do, he laughs against you — the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.

"You taste so fucking good," he says before diving back in. He eats you out messily, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping down to push inside you, savoring every drop of your arousal mixed with his spit.

Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly as the overwhelming sensation hits you. "Heeseung, that feels incredible…"

He keeps going, licking deeper inside you while his nose brushes against your clit, but suddenly he pulls back, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. Without warning, he brings his hand down in a sharp, wet slap against your soaked pussy, the sting mixed with pleasure makes you cry out loudly. "Holy fuck, Heeseung."

"You like that too?" He slaps your pussy again, harder this time, hitting your folds and swollen clit. "Such a dirty girl, getting even wetter when I slap this pretty pussy."

"Yes— God, yes," you moan, thighs trembling. "It burns, but it feels so good at the same time."

That encourages him to give you another slap and right after, he buries his face between your legs again, sucking hard on your clit while two thick fingers push inside you. He fingers you mercilessly, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over as his tongue works your clit. "Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking my fingers like a good little slut for me."

He spits on your clit again, spreading the saliva with his tongue before adding a third finger, stretching you deliciously while pumping them faster and harder. All you can do is moan, your thighs shaking violently around his head. "Heeseung, I’m getting close… please don’t stop."

He obeys, alternating between long licks, hard sucks on your clit, deep thrusts of his fingers, and firm slaps that make your pussy burn and throb. "I’m gonna come," you moan, arching your back off the bed.

"Then come for me." Your entire body tenses, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as spasms rip through you. You come hard with a loud cry, thighs trembling violently around his head. But Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing out your pleasure until you’re oversensitive and whimpering.

When he finally pulls back with glossy lips and chin, he kisses you again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. "Get on your knees for me," he commands against your lips. "I want that pretty mouth around my cock."

It’s time to put into practice what Sunghoon taught you about sucking dick.

With a confident little smile, you gently push him so he lies on his back. Once he does, you position yourself between his legs and reach for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. He lifts his hips to help as you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up thick, hard, and leaking precum, making your mouth water at the sight.

You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, lean in, and press a soft kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, drawing a shaky breath from Heeseung. "That’s it… suck me like a good girl."

Feeling confident, you take him into your mouth and slowly suck on the head, swirling your tongue around it while savoring the precum there. Then you take him deeper, bobbing your head as your hand strokes what doesn’t fit, your movements growing smoother as you find the right rhythm. "Fuck… your mouth feels so good."

His praise encourages you to take him even deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. A wet choking sound escapes as your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you stay there for a moment, breathing through your nose the way Sunghoon taught you, before sliding back up and sinking down again.

Heeseung grabs your hair and tightens his grip as a needy groan escapes his throat. "Shit, that’s… ahh—"

You keep going, moving your head faster and sucking harder while your hand twists around the base, making his thighs tense and another desperate moan slip out.

It’s hard to believe that Heeseung, the guy everyone on campus talks about, the one with a reputation for being experienced and dominant, is moaning and whimpering under your mouth. It’s unexpected, but not in a bad way, especially because your pussy clenches around nothing every time he makes those sounds.

You pull back a little, sucking on the head while stroking him faster with your hand, which draws another broken moan from him. "Yes— fuck, yes, baby."

Wanting to pull even more reactions from him, you take him deep into your mouth again, gagging softly around his length as your head moves faster. Saliva drips down his entire shaft and onto your hand, making everything slick and messy.

Heeseung’s moans grow louder, breathier, and more frequent. "Fuck, I… I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop… I’m so close, baby."

You moan around him and suck harder until his thighs start to tremble. "Fuck… fuck—!" His voice cracks as the orgasm finally hits him.

His cock pulses hot and hard on your tongue, releasing thick jets of cum into your mouth. You try to swallow as much as you can, continuing to suck him through every last spasm and moan.

When you finally pull off his cock with a wet pop, Heeseung moves fast. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you — the whimpering guy from moments ago is gone. Now his eyes are filled with raw hunger.

"I’m not done with you yet." With a firm hand, he spreads your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. "Now I’m going to fuck you properly."

You blink at him, confused and surprised by the sudden shift because seconds ago he was moaning and almost begging under your mouth, and now he’s trying to act like the dominant guy everyone talks about.

He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds, coating himself with your arousal. Without warning, he thrusts into you hard in one brutal stroke, stretching you around his thick length.

The sudden fullness makes you cry out loudly, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my God — Heeseung!" The stretch feels so good, especially while you’re still sensitive from coming earlier.

He fucks you hard and deep from the very first thrust, his hips slamming against yours with relentless strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, this pussy is so wet and greedy," he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss while one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. He holds it for a few seconds before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air. "Look at you, sucking my cock like a good little slut. You love being used like this, don’t you?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, your voice breaking under the pressure of his hand. "You’re so deep inside me. It feels so good, Heeseung."

He chokes you again, a little harder this time, and the mix of pleasure and lack of air makes your head spin deliciously.

Heeseung pushes your legs back toward your chest, folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper. The new angle makes his cock hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, causing your eyes to roll back.

When he finally releases your throat, you gasp desperately for air, moaning loudly as he keeps hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Please… harder. I can take it."

Heeseung lets out a needy groan at your words, his hips stuttering for half a second before he gives you exactly what you asked for. He fucks you harder, rougher, driving his cock into you with punishing depth. The sound of skin slapping against skin grows louder and wetter as he pounds into you, pressing your body into the mattress.

Just as your next orgasm starts to build, he suddenly slows down, keeping his cock buried deep inside you but barely moving. "Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so, slut."

You whine desperately, trying to lift your hips for more friction. "Please, Heeseung… I need to come. I’m so close already. Don’t stop— I’ve been so good."

He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he starts thrusting with slow, teasing rolls of his hips. "Beg better than that, baby. I want to hear how badly you need it."

You’re a complete mess underneath him, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in your eyes. "Please… I’ll be so good for you. Just let me come on your cock, please. I need it so bad— I can’t take this teasing anymore."

Heeseung groans, but the sound turns into a needy moan as your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder again, his hand returning to your throat. But he isn’t done teasing you yet, so he edges you two more times — bringing you right to the brink with deep, brutal thrusts only to slow down and leave you whimpering and empty.

On the third time, you’re crying and babbling nonstop. "Heeseung… please, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts so good… I need to come. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come on your cock."

"Fuck… you look so pretty when you beg," he groans, his voice rough with his own need to come. He thrusts into you with brutal force, tightening his hand around your throat again while his hips move relentlessly. "Come then. Come all over my cock like the desperate slut you are. Let me feel you."

Your entire body seizes underneath him. Your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you, screaming his name.

Heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as your pussy milks him. "Fuck, that’s it. Good girl… you’re squeezing me so tight." A few more brutal, deep thrusts and he buries himself as deep as possible, coming hard inside you with thick, hot pulses.

Lying under him with your heart racing and breath coming in short, heavy bursts, his cock still buried deep inside you, your mind keeps returning to the sounds he made minutes ago — those desperate, broken moans and whimpers when you had him in your mouth.

Something about hearing him lose control like that makes heat pool low in your belly. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gather your courage, place a hand on his chest, and push him gently but firmly. "My turn to break you now. I want to hear you moaning under me." You say as you swing your leg over his waist, straddling him.

Heeseung’s breath hitches as his cock, already hardening again beneath you, shows just how much he likes the shift in power. "Baby… fuck," he gasps, his hands reaching for your hips.

"Don’t touch unless I say so." You slap his hands away, then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, stroking him slowly and teasingly while rubbing the head up and down your cum-soaked pussy. "Look at you. The captain of the basketball team. Everyone on campus thinks you’re this untouchable stud who ruins girls and never gets ruined."

You sink down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your ass meets his thighs — the stretch making both of you moan. You stay completely still, clenching around him just to watch him squirm, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. Then you start moving your hips slowly, rubbing your clit against his pelvis. "Ahh— fuck… please don’t tease me."

You begin riding his cock properly, using everything you learned — deep movements, tight squeezes, and powerful bounces that make your ass slap against his thighs and your clit grind deliciously against his pelvis.

"Fuck, baby," he hisses, his hands flying to your hips, but you grab his wrists and push them away. You lean down so your breasts brush against his chest and his cock hits even deeper. "Don’t touch. Just take this pussy like a good boy. Got it, captain?"

Heeseung’s cock twitches hard inside you at your words, and a low, surprised moan escapes his throat. "Shit… yes," he groans, clearly turned on by the way you dominate him. "Use me, baby. Fuck me."

So this was the real Heeseung? A whimpering mess when someone takes control. All that arrogance on the court, all those girls throwing themselves at him, and here he is — moaning and shaking underneath you like he can’t handle how good your pussy feels around him.

You watch every reaction closely, mesmerized by the way his lips part, his breath coming in short, needy gasps every time you bounce and grind on him, and the broken moans slipping from his throat when you clench hard around his cock.

'God, he really is a whimperer,' you think, amazed by the sight as you bite your lip and ride him harder. "All that reputation and you’re crying because a girl is riding you. That’s kind of pathetic… but so fucking hot."

Heeseung lets out another broken moan, his hands desperately gripping the sheets since you won’t let him touch you. "Fuck— you’re killing me. Your pussy feels too good, I can’t… ah— slow down a little, please."

You laugh softly and keep riding him mercilessly, clenching around his cock rhythmically, rolling your hips in tight, dirty circles while bouncing faster and faster, making sure he feels every movement. "You’re going to take this like a good boy, captain."

Heeseung moans louder, letting his head fall back against the pillow as his body trembles beneath you. "Shit, you’re so mean. Please don’t stop. Your pussy is squeezing me so tight— fuck, I’m losing my mind."

You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs so he has the perfect view of his cock disappearing into your dripping pussy. "Look how deep you are," you moan, rolling your ass on him in small, obscene movements. "You like watching me use your cock like this, don’t you? Such a big, strong captain… and now you’re moaning under me."

The pleasure and the delicious sight of the untouchable Heeseung moaning and whimpering push you toward your own orgasm. "I’m gonna come," you gasp, leaning down to kiss him messily while still bouncing on his cock. "And you’re going to come with me, crybaby."

Heeseung moans loudly, the nickname making his cock twitch hard inside you. "Fuck… I’m coming!" His hips buck up to meet your bounces as thick jets of cum spill deep inside you once again.

You follow right behind him, your orgasm crashing over you as you keep riding him through both of your peaks, milking every last drop from his cock.

"Don’t tell anyone about this," he begs breathlessly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That I’m… like this. Please. This is our secret, okay? Just between us."

────────

Jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, you clench around his cock and roll your hips in those filthy, perfected movements. His broken moans fill the room as you bounce faster, grinding harder against him. Suddenly, your phone starts ringing on the nightstand, Ni-ki’s name lighting up the screen.

You slow your movements, reaching over to answer the call while still sitting on Jake’s cock. "Hey," you sigh, slightly breathless.

Jake groans, his hips twitching desperately. "Babe… please don’t stop," his voice is full of need. "I was so close… keep going, please."

You cover his mouth with your hand to silence him to continue the call. Ni-ki sounds frustrated on the other end. "You free right now? We lost tonight and I’m pissed. Come to my dorm… I need that pretty pussy to help me forget this shit game."

"I can come over soon," you say, trying to keep your voice steady while rolling your hips on Jake. "Give me a bit."

"Good. Don’t take too long. I really need to fuck you," Ni-ki says before hanging up.

You drop the phone and start riding Jake again. "Sorry about that. Now be a good boy and come for me.

Later that night, you’re on all fours in Ni-ki’s dorm as he fucks you hard from behind. His hips slam against your ass with deep, aggressive thrusts.

In the middle of a particularly rough stroke, he suddenly asks, "I saw you leaving the hockey rink the other day. What the hell were you doing there?"

You moan and push back to meet his thrusts. "None of your business."

Ni-ki’s hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud smack. The sharp sting makes you clench around his cock and moan louder. He slaps you again, even harder. "Wrong answer."

"Again," you moan, arching your back. "I like it."

Ni-ki laughs darkly and keeps spanking you repeatedly while fucking you harder, his palm leaving red marks on your ass as he pounds into you until both of you come hard.

The next afternoon, you’re on your knees in Jay’s dorm with his huge cock stretching your mouth as you suck him. Jay has one hand gently stroking your hair, looking down at you with proud eyes.

"You’re doing so well. Taking me so deep like this… you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, angel."

You relax your throat, taking him as deep as you can, sucking harder, using every technique you’ve learned. Jay groans, his fingers sliding gently through your hair.

"Fuck… you’re incredible. Such a good girl for me. Keep going, you’re making me feel so good."

He keeps praising you the whole time, soft and sincere, until he finally comes down your throat with a soft, shaky groan, lovingly stroking your cheek as you swallow everything.

When you leave Jay’s room, still a little flushed and disheveled, you run straight into Sunghoon in the hallway. He looks at you, then at Jay’s door behind you, and his expression darkens instantly.

"What the fuck were you doing in there?"

You don’t answer, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let you. Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his own dorm, slamming the door behind you. He fucks you hard and jealous, bending you over the desk, taking you from behind with brutal, possessive thrusts.

"You’ve been fucking everyone lately, haven’t you?" he growls, driving deep and angry. "Greedy little slut."

You moan loudly, loving the jealous tone in his voice.

During the rough thrusts, your phone starts vibrating on the desk — it’s Heeseung sending message after message.

Heeseung:

I can’t stop thinking about that night with you.

Come over.

Baby, answer me.

I know you’re getting these.

Don’t play games with me.

Stop fucking ignoring me.

Sunghoon notices the constant buzzing, picks up the phone, uses your face to unlock it, and opens the chat. With a dark, possessive smile, he takes a photo of your flushed, teary-eyed, moaning face while he fucks you hard from behind and sends it to Heeseung with the caption: "She’s busy."

He tosses the phone aside and fucks you even harder after that.

────────

You finally understand why Heeseung never wants to be tied to just one person. Having options is liberating. Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung — each one offers something different: different rhythms, different kinds of pleasure, different versions of yourself. You don’t have to choose just one because you can have them all. Now you understand Heeseung’s lifestyle — it’s freeing.

And you realize you want that freedom too.

Thank you for reading! and a special thanks to everyone who asked to be tagged <3

At the root of anyone's envy of you, is the easy-going nature you possess. 

Nothing in life seems to deter you. No tears wept over spilt milk, no conversation or adventure too outlandish for the flow you coast on. It's the kind of blasé attitude that makes hardship foreign to you, because even if inconveniences arises, is it not a happy detour to your final destination? A moment for pause, to think, remember the smell of roses despite the figurative collapse of life coming down around you ─ and like everything in life, you don't go through it ─ everything bends to your will, sea parting because that's what life's like when water runs off your back. Life's better that way ─ less complicated, more fun, somehow always finding yourself in situations that earn all the gasps and laughter at the flock of people surrounding you, starved for the stories you tell and whatever way they can possibly weave themselves into new ones.

It's a phenomenon ─ never through your own admission ─ that entices men, suitors hard pressed to be interesting enough to warrant the stray of your life. Sometimes, you indulge, because the mundane is inevitable, but like the rest of your stories, they're in the past, your heart fully present and drenched in the colours of raw emotion, but built with the capacity to move on. It's how you've found yourself at your latest chapter, navigating what should be a serious third-year at university, only for it to be some off-hand detail in the grand scheme of things. Dancing on bar tables, dressing triple your age during pub golf, travelling oceans away on a course trip, celebrating victory wins hoisted up by teammates and ultimately kissed on the pitch, by your adoring and doting boyfriend, Jake.

He has every bit of your heart, swooping in with his charming smile and sun-kissed skin from the vacation you'd met on. All you assume it to be is a summer romance, a whirlwind week where you ride on the back of his moped bike, arms circled around his waist with the coastal winds wisping through your hair. His feather-light giggles float past your ears, manoeuvring through the streets of the obscure European beach town you'd travelled to on a whim. Summer's clutches would not leave you, nagging, and as the due date for the academic year draws nearer, you decide to write another chapter. One more paragraph to close out the summer and it's your best chapter yet. Catching shellfish, cooking them over a fire made on a one-man island, immersing with locals who quickly adopt you as their own, free-floating in the ocean with the little time you spend on land spent exploring. Enriching yourself in the beauty life had to offer beyond the drone of normalcy, and Jake's there for it all. Captivated by you, as you are him and when your last night together comes, some part of you really can't let it go. Wondering if this heartbreak may crack the rose-tinted lens you see the world in, echoing over the plane's roaring engine as you clutch the necklace he'd wielded for you, a singular J etched into a heart that's fully his.

And to your surprise (as if life taught you the concept), the heartache doesn't last long. Not when Jake shows up on your university campus, parting the grump grey clouds plagued by your uni town, but being the sunshine beaming down on you two as you embrace, held in his arms as he twirls you around, giggles free-falling from your fallen lips.

Not a thought is spared, sticking together like glue because that's the thing about whims, you're constantly on one. Doing this, doing that. With someone, then another. Your friends enjoy it for what it's worth, enjoying the fresh flowers he adorns your uni house in and the handiwork he does your maintenance man can't be bothered with, but they know. Know like everything else, this won't last. But Jake sticks, weathers the autumn he comes in and nestles into the winter you creep into, your fingers interlaced as you marvel at the city carnival, somehow finding his way around rigged games and winning the biggest plushie your eyes dazzle from.

It's straight out-of-a-movie, perfect in every way. You're not together like how vacation-you were, building towards ambition as you live your own lives, and it's…freeing. The thing about men before him is that even the securest of them had a knack for insecurity. Feeling small in the grandness of your existence. They couldn't handle anything being more fulfilling than them, they had to be the most interesting thing about you and that, you couldn't stand, serving as a canvas for their own painting. You are your own person with Jake, painting the strokes to your own story while he does nothing but admire yours, a kiss to your cheek before he gets to his own, choosing his own set of colours instead of borrowing your own. You work together, in ways that are conventional and some that…aren't.

Perhaps you're too-free of two souls, no limit to the flight of your wings that situations where someone else would recoil, actually open up earnest dialogue between you two. You're not sure who breaches the topic first ─ you or Jake, but you're in the situation you are in now because of it. So stupidly in love with each other, but still able to fuck other people.

It's a civil agreement. It happens, but isn't discussed at length with each other. There are so many things to try, so many people to meet, why be bound by the ties of monogamy? Sex is something you're nearly matched in, no shortage of kinks explored, but when something new creeps in, when the other is too tired for another rendezvous, isn't it convenient to have an outlet? No sad jerk-off or groan at your battery-drained toy, but another human. Another person you have your moment of relief with, vanishing in the morning where Jake wakes you up with bed in breakfast, looking at you with the same overflowing love in his eyes like he did last.

Initially, you're surprised by your newfound liberty, looking over your shoulder as you scroll through dating apps you'd sworn off, Jake folding over your back and swiping as if he'd be meeting the men. To no surprise, no one draws your attention and even on night outs, those who approach you don't get anywhere beyond a gentle rejection squeeze on the shoulder. It doesn't necessarily worry you, more so opens up an avenue for unconventionality, meeting someone in the waking hours of your crawling campus. 

Jungwon is one of them. 

He's one of the students below you in the tutoring program you'd randomly got roped into. How could you pass up the opportunity to extend a helping hand? Especially when your professor begged with clasped hands, looking at you like you're his sole saviour. It jam-packs your schedule, but you prefer it that way. Less time to ponder, to lose yourself in rumination because you aren't immune to it either. Point is, you take on his request and offer sparse sessions to the two students you're delegated with. One another second year girl whose transition into uni is wobbly at best, but bettered by your assurance. And the other, Jungwon.

In the library is where you first see him, your head lifting at the call of your name. When you're due to confirm it, the answer dies on your tongue. He is strikingly beautiful, an intricate mix of features contrasting between cute and handsome. It hits you like a ton of bricks, nothing but the flutter of your lashes echoing on the talking library floor, background nothing but that in his presence. He smiles like he's caught you, but there's no cockiness to it. If your eyes aren't deceiving you, there's a flicker of reciprocity in it, but it's quickly shut down. No matter how lawless you may seem, your purpose is to tutor him, not to flirt.

So, that's what you do. Flash him a friendly smile, known to charm, and extend your hand, eclipsed in his larger one. You pretend you don't feel the jolt of electricity at the mere touch and immediately crack open your previous notes, the first bit of your session utilized to gauge the basis of his knowledge and build from there. You leave the session rushing off to football practice, promising him the better grade he's searching for and leave feeling accomplished, willing the back of your mind not to draw forwards. You tell Jake about it, the tutoring session that is, over the burger bowl he's invited you to try out. You don't really tell him other things related to Jungwon ─ how your hands sparked to the touch, that from time to time, your attention would stray to the obscene stretch of his shoulders or the sneaky spread of his smile. No, you just mention offhandedly that he's handsome and Jake nods, all good-natured, but ends up laughing into his lettuce, knowing better.

Knowing you.

To be loved is to be seen, and while you'd always thought of the sentiment as reassuring, it now feels like unnecessary exposure. Like you'd been caught with your hand in a cookie jar and while the shame shouldn't come with it, it does. Because like Jake, Jungwon charges you with something similar. Current beneath your fingertips, the extra thump to your heart that bruises your chest and keeps your eyes pried when you really should be sleeping. Not because you're capable of falling in love with him too, but because even the slight question of its possibility poses an issue. Ruins the mirage of what life's been like with Jake because even if you're able to fuck people, there's perimeters for it. Suggestions, Jake had corrected you. While repeat lovers aren't frowned upon, they need to be discussed. Put under a lens for inspection because if they're someone you keep running back to, the foundation of your relationship has no choice but to be called into question.

Why are we together? Where do we not click? Do we need to make it work or are they the one for you? To what extent are they the one for you?

So many question posed, messing with the harmony you love. The constant you've come to crave, so you firm it. Push any possibilities to the furthest points of your expansive mind and run on auto-pilot, teaching Jungwon until he knows better, keeping things friendly until things run their course, his steady good grades no longer requiring your services.

Unfortunately, like you've known him to be, he's lovely about your last meet-up, gifting you the biggest pack of your favourite chocolate ─ the one you'd been snacking on during your sessions ─ and a bouquet of flowers, modest but meaningful because they'd been the same you'd picked up on your walk to the library one time.

"It's the least I could do. Your time has nothing on these," he says, admiring the clutch you do to your chest of all the goodies. Then his eyes find yours, like they always do, sparkling in their earnest way. Except there's a hint of darkness behind them, a doom you know you'll be subjected to.

He steps closer, the grey of his sweatshirt stretched across his chest, glasses balancing on his nose. His hair is a bit shorter, and you loved his long hair, but now you might love his shorter hair more, a bit dishevelled in a stupidly handsome way. And he's there, a hair-length away from you, his fresh linen scent consuming you with the flutter-shut of your eyes, only pried open when you feel him move.

Jungwon ducks, lowering his head to meet you at eye-level, tone like gravel as he's close enough for your lips to graze if you'll allow it, your lashes weaved together.

"And if you need any of my services," he smirks, the sound etched into your memory. "You know where to find me."

This all happens in a library. A public one, full of said to be concentrating students who mindlessly yap the hours away, laying witness to your knee buckle, willed by a mechanical smile and the close proximity of a nearby table.

He leaves and when he's out of sight, you're not even graceful enough to collapse into a pulled-out chair, a pool of melted limbs on the carpeted floor you can only pray has been cleaned.

Jungwon knows you're with Jake. You haven't shared that part of your relationship, but he knows enough by your Instagram posts where everyone portrays themselves to be happier than they really are. It should make you think different of him, less, because sex is on the table for him despite you being very committed to your partner. You don't know if that makes him sick or somehow captivating, as if he hasn't reduced you to the mess you are, face buried in a bunch of flowers you'll dry so they'll last longer.

You're weak. So fucking weak because whatever high and mighty standards you may have held yourself to now come crashing down on you, leaving you no choice but to yield.

To listen to the voice at the back of your head, even though you know better.

A time is set, one you do share with Jake almost like an admission of guilt.

He won't have it.

"Hey," he calls sweetly, finger nudging your chin upwards. In your vision, he lays himself at its centre, kind eyes offered to you. He's never nothing but understanding, seen in the words he speaks. "This is meant to be a good thing. Your tutoring sessions are over with, so there's nothing holding you back,"

"Frowning doesn't suit you," he jokes, smiling in the face of your own. "Don't think about it too much. Have your cake and eat it too."

thank you for reading! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated.ᐟ ᰔ

GENERAL/ALL WORKS TAGLIST  ⨾ @ahnoote ノ@angelhyuka ノ @hwrtoni ノ @kookiesnkim ノ@kssniki ノ@user-0703

“third time in a row. our culprit can officially be declared a serial killer.”

you looked up from the body, turning your attention towards chief kang. he was already looking at you. “wouldn’t you agree?”

you glanced back towards the body. same relaxed posture, one hand over his eyes, legs carelessly posed—it almost looked like he was still alive, just peacefully sleeping. but his skin was turning ashy, limbs rigid. and the rose.

god, the rose.

you had no idea what could possibly be it’s significance—if it at all had one. the victims always seemed to ‘hold’ a rose with one hand on their chest. the roses always had no thorns, the petals always fresh when the body was first found. perhaps, it was just the killer’s way of showing that it was indeed his work, but you begged to differ. it had to be more than just a claim, there is always more to the story than such simple explanations.

snapping back to reality, you realized that you hadn’t answered your superior yet. “yes sir, i do.”

the chief let out a hum, looking back at the body. the town was small enough for everyone to know everyone, so it wouldn’t be hard to dig up every piece of information on the victims. at the end of the day, every serial killer had a pattern. this rose lover should also have one.

“detective lee,” the chief suddenly said, turning his attention towards your co-worker and friend. “did you investigate florist kim?”

heeseung was quick to respond. “yes sir, we completed the investigation yesterday itself. please accept my apologies for not informing you earlier.”

the chief waved his hand dismissively. “not a big deal. now tell me what you figured out.”

heeseung pulled out a bunch of pictures from the file in his hands. he pointed to the first picture. “this,” he said. “is a picture of the rose on the victim’s body. they always have the exact same type of rose.” he flipped the pictures to show the roses on the other victims too.

“and this,” he said, flipping the pictures to show fresh roses inside a greenhouse. “is a picture of the roses florist kim sells. he said he only sold red roses, since black ones cannot grow around our area. i asked around to confirm, and he was indeed telling the truth.”

he chief let out a dissatisfied hum. “yet another dead end. the killer could be right among us and we wouldn’t know because we don’t have a single clue.”

you let out a small sigh. there weren’t too many people who could possibly classify as suspects in this town, yet catching the killer or even getting a lead on him seemed practically impossible. “i can deploy some people to ask around, try to find any kind of a common link for me sketch a face. detective sim can use his computer skills to dig up information on all victims and possible suspects. detective lee can stay around the crime sites to find out any fingerprints or tiny pieces of evidence the rest of us might have missed.”

the chief nodded. “sounds good.” he patted your shoulder, as he started making his way back to the car. “this is exactly why you’re one of my favorites. you know when to lead, and exactly how to lead, along with how to correctly deploy resources.” 

you only lowered your head at his words. you were well aware that his favoritism was unprofessional. but you, jake, and heeseung were truly the best detectives in the entire town. everyone in town relied on the three of you whenever any major crime happened, the chief being no exception.

he looked around at all three of you. “if you three can successfully find our killer, i will personally fund a vacation for each of you.”

the three of you glanced at each other. a vacation? now that was thrilling. “of course sir. we will give our best regardless.”

the chief gave one last proud smile, before climbing into his car. being the chief’s only direct subordinates meant most of the work load was on you three. especially since the three of you had extra talents.

you for example, had your love for art, which caused you to become the forensic artist of your town, despite there not being an official post for such a job. jake was exceptionally good with electronic devices, especially computers. heeseung had a keen eye for details, which caused him to easily find things which others may have missed. tiny details, which would turn out to actually be crucial details.

you nodded to jake and heeseung, before going into your own car. your subordinates followed quickly, getting in with you. you sighed, massaging your head. your assistant buckled his seatbelt, getting ready to drive. “where should we go, ma’am?”

you didn’t respond, lifting your head up and looking at the files in front of you. you picked them up, flipping through them. each murder was so cleverly conducted, not a single scratch on any of their bodies. the cause of death was unknown, the autopsy on the first body still being conducted. apparently the result would be known by tomorrow. but until then, there was absolutely no clue.

“take us to the first victim’s neighborhood. maybe we will find some answers there.”

vines surrounded you everywhere, the thorns prickling you continually. black roses adorned the vines beautifully, the scene equivalent to an ancient graveyard, the calmness of the place unsettlingly serene.

you forced your feet to forge ahead, despite the prickles. it was only then that you realized a terrifying fact—there was blood everywhere, drenching everything. the smell suddenly changed, from the sweet subtle smell of roses to the metallic smell of blood and rot.

your feet trudged ahead, almost on autopilot. the smell made you nauseous and lightheaded, but it was as if someone was maneuvering you like a puppet, forcing you to walk ahead despite yourself.

eventually, a gazebo came into view. it was white as snow, the rose vines wrapping around it. the blood dripped down from the vines, the droplets flowing down the pillars of the gazebo. but the most peculiar thing about the whole ordeal was the man standing in the middle of the gazebo.

you walked faster, desperate for answers. once you reached the gazebo, you hesitated. you looked at the unfamiliar man in front of you, really looked at him. his clothes were soaked in blood too. his back was turned to you, leaning on a pillar with his shoulder. he was looking down judging by the way his head was tilted downwards.

swallowing down your nervousness, you took a step forward. immediately, you slipped. before you could fall or even scream, a hand was around your waist, steadying you. a shocked gasp left you, followed by your labored breathing.

the unknown man was looking down at you, his lips curling up into a smirk that screamed menace. he helped you stand properly, before removing his hand from your waist. the loss of contact left a strange feeling in you, as if missing his warmth.

he looked you up and down, the look in his eyes becoming more and more unsettling by the minute. when he locked his gaze with yours again, it felt like you were hypnotized, with how he was pulling you in.

he raised one hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from in front of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. you suddenly snapped back into reality, taking a step back. “don’t touch me–”

you gasped, waking up with a start. you blinked several times, eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the darkness. what was that?

you remembered your dream vividly, not a single detail amiss. how was that even possible? moreover, who was that man?

you shook your head. it was just a dream, why were you letting it bother you? besides, it was probably the stress of the case that was causing you to lose sleep, resulting in such weird dreams. that was it.

right?

“so," the chief took a sip of his tea. “did any of you find anything?" 

you sighed, looking down at your files. heeseung was massaging his temples. jake was the first to speak up.

“there isn't any common pattern as such, but all three victims had some kind of dirt on them." jake passed a bunch of files to the chief. “the first victim, yoon victoria, daughter of the chaebol yoon haneul, has a reputation for using money to get away with anything and everything." 

the chief raised a brow. “anything and everything, you say?" he flipped through the files jake had placed in front of him. “please, do elaborate." 

“maids and servants in general were always dismissed unfairly from her estate according to many, some even claiming that she had bribed many to keep their mouths shut about what went on inside there.”

by now, heeseung had stopped massaging his temples, and you stopped glaring at your files as if they might magically provide you with a clue. both of you were intently staring at jake as he spoke.

"but some people had still anonymously placed reports of the woman's bad temperament, which had allegedly resulted in the murder of a maid servant in her service. records say that the maid servant had apparently let her kid play with victoria’s, something the chaebol’s daughter was not too happy about. she had apparently flipped out, and when the maid defended herself, victoria had thrown a knife lying near her. safe to say, the knife hit its target, killing the maid instantly.”

he paused to take a breath. “the maid’s child was apparently thrown out and sent somewhere unknown, while her own kid was traumatized while seeing the scene. apparently the kid was watching from the top of the stairs, and fainted upon seeing what her mother did, causing her to and fall from the top of the stairs, dying shortly after.”

a sharp pain pierced through your temples, right as heeseung spoke. “that’s… darker than expected.”

jake let out a hum. “it was really hard to find this out. there were all in old files in the locker room, and very old and unpopular articles on the internet. found out through the—oh, i almost forgot. she used to live in a city where all this happened, but after this incident she had shifted here. apparently she never really got over the loss of her child, causing her to grow mad over the years.”

massaging your temple, you let out a hum in agreement. victoria was well known for being insane, people always mostly avoiding her. once you bumped into her in the market by mistake, and before you could even apologize, she had grabbed your arms tightly. the look in her eyes were wild, as she called a name you didn’t remember now. it took like three people to come and make her finally part from you.

the chief leaned back on his chair. “interesting… what about the other two?”

jake rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “didn’t get to find out anything about them yet, victoria alone took up a lot of time.”

the chief nodded. “no worries, this alone was a lot of help. thank you for your service, detective sim.”

jake bowed in politeness. chief kang now turned to you and heeseung. “what about you two? any updates on your sides?”

you shook your head. “not a single person in the entire neighborhood noticed anything amiss. not even a hooded figure, or someone at a place they are not supposed to be, nothing out of the ordinary.”

heeseung spoke next. “i searched up the entire site, and even more. i even had my team dig up a lot of areas, but nothing. not a single thing amiss, or anything out of place. its as if any kind of admissible evidence was taken by the killer, or we are missing something very obviously hidden.”

the chief nodded. “i believe you’re right. the autopsy on victoria must be over by now, so we will know the cause of death pretty soon.”

right on que, one of your subordinates burst into the room, files in hand. “chief!” he quickly placed the files down in front of him. “these are the autopsy results.”

the chief nodded to him. “thank you, officer park. you may take your leave now. and in future, please make sure to knock first.”

officer park bowed, embarrassed, before quickly leaving. the chief flipped through the pages, his brows furrowing.

unable to contain your curiosity, you asked, “what is it chief?”

the chief looked puzzled, as he continued to read the same page over and over again. “it says the victim died of undiagnosed diabetes? there were no signs of any kind of external or internal injuries otherwise.”

the three of you looked at each other, dumbfounded. that was… unexpected to say the very least. “but—that can’t be right.” heeseung spoke up. “it’s obviously a murder, the position of their bodies, and the black rose in their hands… it just doesn’t make sense.”

the chief hummed, putting the files back on his desk. “nothing really makes sense. no forced entry, no signs of struggle, no signs that indicate actual murder. all except the weird position of their bodies and the rose.”

the chief sighed, before looking back at the three of you. “continue with the case. something is very amiss, and we need to get to the bottom of this. keep going with the investigation. all three of you have done a brilliant job till now, so don’t stop yet.”

you and heeseung looked at each other. both of you had done absolutely nothing, jake was the one that did anything at all. but praise was praise, and who were you both to not accept it?

you got up from your seat. “i’ll continue asking around in the second victim’s neighborhood then. see if i get any clues.”

heeseung got up as well. “i’ll go there as well. maybe there’s some kind of evidence we missed out in there.”

jake gave a two finger salute. “i’ll go dig up stuff about the other two victims.”

the chief nodded in appreciation. “very good. please do carry on.”

that same garden. the same prickly vines. same black roses. all of course, drenched in blood. and in the middle of it all, the gazebo. hauntingly beautiful, drenched in crimson. same man standing in the middle of it, staring at you with a look that caused goosebumps to rise all over you.

he offered you his hand. you looked at him in the eyes. should you really trust him? nevertheless, you placed your own hand in his outstretched one, letting him pull you inside the gazebo.

as you stood face to face with him, your curiosity and anxiety, both grew in equal measure. “who are you?”

raising a brow, he smirked. he raised his hand, caressing your cheek. you flinched, but still let him do it. his touch felt strangely comforting, yet your guard remained up. after all, you still had no idea who the hell this guy was.

the look in his eyes had taken over a more melancholic edge, which left you confused. what even were you supposed to make of it? not only was this strange man covered in blood, he wasn’t speaking. and he kept finding ways to touch you. normally that would have rang alarm bells in your head, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. and you were curious as hell.

“why won’t you speak?” your brows furrowed, as you looked at him. his smirk only widened. he tilted his head, leaning close to your ear. you thought he was going to whisper something, but you were proved wrong quickly, as he bit your ear.

you gasped, trying to move away, but he held onto your waist tightly. soothing the bite with his tongue, he kissed the area. he trailed his kisses down to the bottom of your neck, making your breath hitch. he sucked on that spot, rubbing his tongue over the spot so deliciously, that it had you tilting your head from the pleasure.

a moan accidentally slipped out of you. encouraged, he sucked harder and harder, until he was satisfied. when he pulled his head back, your neck sported a bright red spot, blooming rapidly. satisfied with his work, he finally pulled away.

you snapped back to your senses, stepping away from him. his hands were in his pockets, as he stared at you with his signature smirk. you took another step backward, your hand covering the fast forming hickey on your neck. your head hit the pillar in the process, causing you to gasp.

you gasped, your eyes snapping open. your breathing was labored, as you stared at the ceiling. another dream? of the same man? what was going on? worst of all, you still remembered the dream vividly. the events had your face burning. what the hell was wrong with you?

having a weird feeling, you shot up from the bed, quickly going to your vanity table. you switched on the small light beside it. to your utter horror, there was a hickey forming on your neck. you hadn’t been with anyone recently, hell you hadn’t been with anyone in quite a long time. so how–?

surely, the dream was simply a dream? you couldn’t possibly have gotten the hickey because of… that dream, right? after all, it wasn’t real.

right?

“any news?” the chief asked, as soon as he sat down.

heeseung looked at you. you shrugged, catching his gaze. he too shook his head. once again, the two of you had nothing.

jake spoke up. “well… i did find something unexpected about our second victim.”

chief kang sat up straight. “unexpected, you say?”

jake let out a hum. “yeah. kim seil, the con artist. he used to be victoria’s secret lover back in the day.”

“holy shit…” heeseung’s voice rang out, before he quickly slapped his own palm over his mouth, immediately apologizing for the profanity. but the information was almost incredulous—not that you didn’t trust jake, his ability to dig up information was amazing—so his reaction was completely valid.

jake continued. “before victoria allegedly committed the murder, she used to have an affair with our second victim.”

“huh,” you scoffed. “so the victims do have a pattern.”

he went on. “when victoria gave birth, her husband was suspicious of whether the kid was really his or not. he had been suspicious for the entire duration of her pregnancy, since apparently the timing of her getting pregnant and the two of them sleeping together, did not match up. after the kid was born, he did a paternity test, the result showing that he was in fact, not the father.”

heeseung leaned on his palms. “the tea just keeps getting better and better.”

jake gave him a side eye, before continuing. “upon learning the news, the husband divorced victoria. the actual father, was seil. once victoria got divorced, she actively sought his company, although their affair remained an affair, never growing into something more serious.”

taking a deep breath, he continued. “he visited their kid often, and was quite a present father. when the alleged murder happened, he helped victoria, but ultimately left her, since his kid died under her protection. even so, he shifted to the same town as her, since he felt bad about her mental state.”

you leaned back on your chair. “and then he died. right after her.”

the chief looked at the three of you. “i suppose the three of you have deduced who our main suspect is? if, of course, all the alleged information is in fact true.”

you let out a hum. “the maid’s kid. but–” you looked at jake. “how come all the information is alleged?”

jake shrugged. “it’s all recorded as servant gossip. and all the complaints were by servants too. nothing is proven. so yes, it is all alleged.”

the chief opened a file placed in front of him. “the autopsy report is here. the cause of death is the exact same. undiagnosed diabetes.”

you rubbed your temples, sighing. you suddenly felt very aware of the hickey on your neck, which you spent almost twenty minutes in the morning trying to conceal. not only was there a mystery to solve out there in reality, but also in your dreams. curse your terrible living quarters for your terrible sleep which induced such mind boggling dreams. ones that left marks physically outside of the dream.

once again, you were back in the garden. the gazebo was right in front of you as well. this time, the strange man was looking straight at you.

“i was waiting for you,” he said, pushing himself off the pillar. his voice was beautiful. it had this raspy edge to it that made your knees weak.

you raised a brow. “you finally spoke,”

he only smirked, offering you his hand. “well… you kept me waiting, so i grew impatient. which is why i broke my pattern.”

you tilted your head. warily, you took his hand, letting him pull your inside the gazebo. he was yet again too close to you. but this time, before he could touch you, you stopped him. “don’t.”

his hand froze midway. he raised a brow. “what’s the matter?”

you shook your head. “just… don’t. don’t touch me.”

he clenched his jaw, but stepped back. although reluctantly so. you spoke again. “will you please tell me who you are? it is frustrating to experience these… weird dreams over and over again, whenever i sleep, without knowing anything at all as to what is going on. or even who i keep encountering.”

the man chuckled. “is that so?”

you frowned at his rhetorical question, while he only continued to stare at you with amusement. after a few beats of silence, he spoke, “jungwon.”

you blinked. “jungwon?”

he nodded. “that’s my name.”

furrowing your brows, you tilted your head in confusion. “do you live in our town?”

he shrugged. “something like that.”

your frown became bigger. “what is that supposed to mean?”

he only smirked in response. “find that out yourself, detective.”

his words unintentionally caused your cheeks to flush. ignoring your bodily reactions, you instead focused on his clothes. “why are you always soaked in blood? and in this weird garden?”

his smirk grew wider. “curiosity killed the cat, detective. we should leave some of the mystery for our next meetings.”

you were quick to respond. “but satisfaction brought it back. please, everything is so frustrating and blurry and just out of reach—please answer some of my questions.”

jungwon only shook his head. “i’m afraid this is the best i can do for now. till our next meeting, ___”

you woke up with a gasp, panting as you stared at the ceiling. “jungwon…” you whispered into the night, the name tasting familiar. it rolled off on your tongue perfectly, which made you wonder if you knew him. was he someone from your town? how come you couldn’t remember him?

but right now, you had more important matters to focus on. the rose loving killer’s case, for example.

jake dropped a bunch of files in front of him. “third victim, chae unjeong. a.k.a victoria’s ex husband.”

you looked at heeseung. at this point, neither of you were surprised. the murders were obviously connected, so it made sense that the ex husband was also a victim.

jake continued. “after the divorce, victoria had pleaded her case to unjeong a lot, but with no result. but one of the things victoria told unjeong to guilt trip him into staying was ‘stay for the sake of the child’. even though it ultimately didn’t work, he still probably felt guilty, since the poor child had nothing to do with the whole thing, and was only the product of the affair. so it wouldn’t be fair for it to suffer the consequences. thus, he often sent money in the form of child support for it. obviously, victoria didn’t use the money for those purposes, but that wasn’t in unjeong’s knowledge.”

the chief muttered under his breath, “what a kind hearted man…”

jake nodded, before continuing. “there wasn’t much else in the reports, other than the fact that when the alleged murder happened, he helped victoria as well. but the death of the kid had taken a toll on him too, which is why he shifted to this town.”

the chief hummed, flipping through the file in front of him. “his death was apparently caused by the same thing. undiagnosed diabetes. this killer has to be the most impressive killer across history, except for the fact that he deliberately made it obvious that he murdered his victims. despite the autopsy reports showing otherwise.”

heeseung let out a hum. “i think i will go to each crime site again, and search for evidence in a wider radius. it feels simply impossible that all sorts of evidence is erased from every single crime site.”

you shrugged. “suit yourself. i spent six hours or more each time i went to question entire neighborhoods. i’m more than certain i left out no one, so there is nothing more i can do from my side.”

heeseung got up from his chair. “in that case, i’ll leave alone.” he looked at chief kang. “i hope it’s okay that i’m not taking my team with me either.”

the chief shrugged. “you’re a grown man, with years of experience as a detective. it’s your decision. do what you feel is best.”

heeseung bowed, before stepping out. in the silence that followed, a nagging question that filled your mind ever since the first time you had those weird dreams, surfaced again. usually, you always pushed the question to the back of your mind because of how ridiculous it sounded, but then again, the cause of death for each victim was also pretty ridiculous. so you allowed yourself to ask the question.

was jungwon the killer?

it was already starting to get dark when heeseung arrived at victoria’s house. weeds had already started growing, and a certain smell had started settling down on the entire property. nevertheless, he still trudged ahead.

he had already checked her entire house—twice at that—which wasn’t too hard because of how tiny it was. it wasn’t even a house, more so a cottage. surprising choice, given that she was a chaebol’s daughter. but perhaps losing her own child had driven her to this state.

he went around the property again. the cottage was almost fully empty. there wasn’t much of a point to search it all over again, since even if there really was any kind of evidence left, the killer would definitely have visited again to remove it. they always do.

still, he looked around. there was a pungent smell coming from her bedroom. it had been a week since victoria’s death, so the smell was pretty justified. covering his mouth with a handkerchief, he looked through her dresser, and closet. it was all emptied out, the police having taken everything the day they came to first find her dead in her own bedroom. it was to find any kind of clue as to the cause of her death. unfortunately, as is already known, they were unsuccessful.

but heeseung was obviously not one to give up. not this quickly. he was persistent, and persistence was key when it came to solving such cases. so he overturned the mattress, before ultimately lifting the whole thing up and throwing it on the ground. thankfully he was wearing gloves, because the mattress had holes in it, which were obviously a result of rats chewing through the fabric.

it was a box bed, a fact that he already knew of, given, you know, the fact that he already searched the entire property multiple times. he opened the cover, the inside that was previously filled with sheets and other random objects, was now empty. the police had already confiscated everything.

still, he shone the flashlight inside the box. and thank god he did, because he saw this weird discolored part at the bottom, which was obviously not something he had noticed before. frowning, he pushed down on it, causing it to immediately give away. surprised, he stared at the now square shaped hole in the box.

realizing it was a false bottom, heeseung put his hand inside. his hand immediately came in contact with some sort of paper. groping around, he pulled out a stack of papers. shining the flashlight on them, he realized with a start that they were letters. dozens of them, all stacked at the bottom of the bed.

lifting one off the stack, he quickly realized that the letters were all unsent ones, written by victoria to her child. the first letter he picked up, was just victoria expressing her longing for her child, yearning to see her baby again.

reading through the letters, they all had the same content, victoria’s desperation to see her child again. it was quite sad, really, but she had killed some innocent child’s mother, so he couldn’t bring himself to feel quite sorry for her.

stuffing the letters in his pocket, he explored the rest of the house again. but unlike the bed, nothing else in the house seemed to hide any more secrets. disappointed, he headed out to the backyard. it was already dark now, but he wanted to go home without any regrets.

shining the flashlight on the fence, he explored the entire area. until a part of the fence seemed slightly lose. curious, he held the flashlight with his teeth, before pushing on the fence. he had noticed the hinge long back, but it had seemed locked each time he came to inspect it before. but this time it was different. with a bit more effort, he finally managed to pry it apart.

the fence opened to the woods. looking at the isolated house, there was a big chance that the murderer had come in through the fence. or well, it was just a possibility. he decided to explore a bit, just in case.

he walked quite a distance, before stepping on something uncomfortable. bending down, he shone his flashlight. it was a bunch of dead leaves, but he was certain it felt like something else. digging through the leaves, he came across a used syringe.

he slowly stood up, inspecting the syringe. there seemed to be some kind of residual liquid inside it. but before he could inspect it fully, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head, making him drop the syringe. clutching his head, he dropped to his knees, groaning from the pain, before eventually blacking out.

when you entered your house, it was completely silent. just like it usually was. except this time, the silence felt… wrong. you were a detective, and years of doing your job had made you more wary of approaching danger. and this time, it was no different.

you looked around cautiously. nothing seemed amiss. still, you walked around with extra caution, hand on your gun, just in case. but even after searching your entire home, there was nothing out of the ordinary. yet, the weird feeling did not go away.

the reason for it soon became apparent, when you reached your bedroom. opening the door, you froze in place. sitting on your bed like he belonged there, was none other than the man from your dreams. jungwon.

your throat dried up. all instincts screamed at you to take your gun out and aim at him, but an unknown fear was gripping you so tightly that moving at all felt impossible.

jungwon on the other hand, was having the time of his life watching you. he tilted his head back with a smirk, enjoying the way an experienced police officer like you was so terrified at the mere sight of him, despite him never having done anything to you.

he patted the space beside him. “won’t you come sit?”

forcing yourself to breathe, you managed to ask, “what the hell are you doing inside my house?”

jungwon chuckled, getting up. “that’s not a very nice way to talk to your guest, is it?”

your hand instinctively reached for your gun, but jungwon was faster. within seconds your hands were pinned to the door, jungwon’s face hovering dangerously close to your own.

“i wouldn’t try that if i were you.” he muttered, eyes unabashedly dropping to your lips. with how fast your heart was beating from the proximity, you almost caved in, before remembering your profession. and the fact that this was an intruder, a complete stranger—what he was trying to do was wrong and unlawful on so many levels.

but jungwon seemed to be able to predict your every move. he suddenly twisted your body, pushing your face towards the door. your back was flush to his chest, as he pinned both your hands over your head with one hand, taking your gun out using the other. lifting the side of your perfectly ironed shirt with the gun, he teased your bare skin with it, running the gun back and forth on your waist.

“don’t even try, sweetheart. if i wanted to kill you, i wouldn’t need a gun. and trust me when i say you’re no match for me.”

you were scared, terrified even. this wasn’t a predicament you ever thought you would find yourself in. i mean, come on, you’re trained for these situations. you know self defence. so why is it so hard to do anything to defend yourself against a guy you know only from your dreams? more so, why was he so goddamn strong?

jungwon put his face into the crook of you neck, taking in a deep inhale. god, you smelled just the way he remembered. he couldn’t help but lick a stripe up your neck, ignoring your gasp of horror. he lightly bit and sucked all over the area, trying to leave marks.

you sighed, the pleasure starting to overwhelm your rational brain. which was pretty dumb on your part, but after being touch starved for so long, you were… really sensitive. so you tilted your head, giving him more access. right on que, he sucked harder, pressing himself further into you. he threw the gun to the side, instead pushing his hand inside your shirt, opting to grope you without any obstacles.

he pushed his hand up, inside your bra, squeezing the soft flesh of your boobs. pulling his hand out, he unhooked your bra, before going right back to groping your tits. this time, without resistance. he pinched your perked up nipples, drawing whines out of you. you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to muffle any further sounds.

jungwon rolled your nipples in between his fingers, before flicking them. the way he was playing with them made them even more sensitive than before, your whines growing louder, gradually more unrestrained. slick started seeping out of your pussy, dampening your panties. you rubbed your legs trying to relieve the tension.

jungwon noticed. of course he did, he noticed everything about you. he knew everything about you. every. single. goddamn. thing. what put you off, what got you going, everything. so, when your whines started turning shaky, he smirked. he stopped groping your chest, opting to fiddle with your pants instead.

he popped the button open, pulling down your zipper along with it. pushing his hand inside your soaked panties, he was immediately met with your slick coated folds. he lightly ran one finger lightly across your folds, collecting your slick. you let out a muffled whimper at the feeling, clenching around nothing.

jungwon casually rubbed light circles around your clit, stimulating you further, trying to make your whines louder. he flicked your clit upwards, pinching it. he opted to rubbing it harshly, your broken gasps and whines for him to stop not deterring him in the slightest. in fact, it only encouraged him to continue abusing your clit further.

besides, he knew you didn’t actually want him to stop. he had spied on enough of your solo sessions to know what you liked, what you did not, and what actually made you cum. so he continued to rub your clit harshly with his thumb, inserting two fingers inside your drooling hole.

your whines grew louder, as you squeezed down on his fingers, hard. jungwon paid no heed, instead focusing on thrusting shallowly on your upper wall, listening to your broken moans in satisfaction. the added stimulation was making your head spin, your knees growing weaker by the minute.

you could feel jungwon’s rock hard boner pressing insistently against your ass, while he continued to abuse your pussy. it was all starting to become too much, too good, your brain growing hazy from the intense pleasure, when suddenly that nagging question came back to your mind–

is jungwon the killer you’re looking for?

the thought successfully brought you back to reality. with all your strength, you threw a kick at jungwon, as best as you could while being pushed face first into a door with your hands held captive, and your pussy being abused incessantly. you aimed the kick towards his balls, but missed—obviously—hitting his shin instead.

jungwon hissed at the pain. instead of flinching and letting you go like you had hoped, he dragged you towards your bed, taking his hand—now coated with your fluids—out of your dripping cunt. he pushed you head first into the pillow, practically sneering, “such an ungrateful brat.”

he opened your nightstand, taking your spare handcuffs out—how the fuck did he know they were there?—and used them to cuff your hands together. you didn’t know why you weren’t able to fight back at all, it was as if some unknown force was dulling your senses. it was frustrating, highly so. what was the point in being one of the best officers on the force if you couldn’t stop some random guy from forcing himself onto you?

jungwon pushed your ass up, forcing you to bend your knees. he was done being nice, since you were so insistent on being uncooperative. he forced your pants down, purposely letting them fall only to your knees instead of pulling them down all the way. restricting your movements even further this way.

he pushed your shirt and bra up to pool near your neck, uncaring if it affected your already dulled senses. it was what he wanted anyways. he slapped your bare ass cheek, squeezing the flesh in his palm. you bit your lip, muffling a sob, your face burning hot from the humiliation and self loathing. how could you possibly be wet in such a scenario? why was your body such a traitor?

his eyes were dark, as he stared at your fluttering hole. your slick kept dripping out, wetting the sheets, because of how worked up you were. dipping his thumb into your soaked folds, he lightly massaged your lips, adding to your humiliation. you whined, squirming. jungwon slapped your ass in warning again, to make you lie still.

getting impatient, he fiddled with his zipper, pulling his pants down just enough to pull his throbbing cock out. feeling his bare tip rub against your sensitive folds had you flinching, a fresh batch of tears gathering in your waterline. you felt useless, so fucking useless. were you really that weak? was it really that hard to fight back?

jungwon didn’t know about the self loathing thoughts he was causing you to have, nor would he have cared if he got to know about them. all he cared about was how good it felt just to rub against you, skin to skin, your slick making it too easy for him.

it wasn’t even your fault that you couldn’t do anything to protest, really. jungwon just knew all your weaknesses already. there wasn’t anything you could do to stop him. except for enjoying what he was giving you, of course.

the way he kept grinding on your bare cunt sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure up your spine, the overstimulation getting to you. your brain was going into overdrive, somehow starting to register only the pleasure. more slick poured out of you, coating his dick in a sheen of your arousal, much to his delight.

but jungwon had waited too long for this. he couldn’t wait any longer. he slowly pushed his bulbous tip inside you, his cock dragging across your walls so very deliciously. you couldn’t help but moan at the intrusion, your body completely at his mercy.

when he finally bottomed out in you, it felt like heaven to him. and unfortunately for you, you felt the same way. being touch starved for so long, it felt a bit too good to be so filled up. jungwon knew just how you felt, and fortunately for you, he intended to make it feel good. so that you never ever thought of any other cock filling you up ever again.

pulling out almost all the way, he pushed right back in, making you splutter, somehow feeling more full than you were before. his grip on your hip was tight, tight enough to bruise. pulling out slightly again, he set an almost brutal pace, one that left you dizzy from how good it felt.

he was hitting all the right spots, something your previous hookups had never managed to do. it felt good, almost too good to be true. you didn’t even realize you were moaning, until jungwon squeezed on your neck, lightly choking you. his other hand was gripping your waist tightly, which was the only thing holding you up. your legs were shaking from his intensity, shaking under his unrelenting thrusts.

suddenly, he stopped. he let go of your neck, pulling you up by your waist, making you sit up on your knees. the new angle allowed him to go even deeper, hitting your g-spot continuously. the feeling had you blabbering nonsense, half sobbing, half moaning. he used his other hand to rub circles on your clit, stimulating you even further.

sparks of pleasure shot up your spine, making you cry out from the intense pleasure. the knot in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, making you wish you weren’t handcuffed, desperately needing to hold on to something. jungwon continued to rub and pinch your bundle of nerves, making you feel like you were on fire.

the coil in your stomach finally snapped. your pussy clamped around his length like a vice, almost pushing him out. your orgasm hit you hard, washing over you like a tsunami, making your eyes roll from the feeling. jungwon’s own orgasm got triggered, as he snapped his hips up into yours one last time, balls slapping against your clit.

he shot ropes and ropes of warm cum inside you, holding your spasming body against his. your walls kept squeezing around him, milking him for every last drop. once he was done, he slowly pulled out his flaccid cock, watching the mixture of his and your cum drip down onto the bed.

carefully laying you down, he took out the tissues from the drawer in the nightstand,—again, how did he know they were there?—using them to wipe both of you clean. he unlocked the handcuffs, lightly massaging your sore wrists. your eyes were closed, as you were on the verge of unconsciousness. right as you were about to fully pass out, he said one last thing.

“don’t worry princess, i’ll be back soon.”

“i’m glad you guys are here, despite it being so early.” the chief spoke, as he walked ahead of you. you glanced at jake, who looked just as confused as you were.

“has another body been found?” you asked, already knowing the answer. what other possible reason could there be to get called upon so early, if not for the appearance of more dead bodies?

“i’m afraid so. apparently someone was taking a walk in the woods and discovered the body. he immediately called us, and upon a little questioning, it was found that the description of the body matched the rest of the victims.”

you nodded, even though the chief couldn’t see you. jake spoke up. “where is heeseung? isn’t he coming.”

chief shrugged. “i called him, but it went straight to voice mail. shot him a text but i was left on delivered. perhaps he is still asleep.”

you frowned. that was very unlikely of heeseung. he was a very light sleeper, even someone’s slightly loud breathing could wake him up. you knew because early in your careers the two of you had hooked up a couple of times, and you woke him up quite often in the night, every time you shifted to your side. it was part of why you both didn’t make it into an arrangement, along with the fact that he started dating someone.

“we are almost there.” the chief announced, as you neared a house. you raised a brow. that was victoria’s house.

the chief pushed through the gates, going inside the property. he walked around the house, the two of you, and your subordinates closely following. behind the house, a part of the fence was agape, the fence gate being wide open.

all of you went through it one by one, going into the woods. after walking for a good ten minutes, the chief stopped dead in his tracks. confused, you peaked from behind him. the sight that greeted you had your blood freezing.

there, lying on the ground, skin starting to turn ashy, legs straightened, hands carefully posed, while holding a black rose to his chest, lay heeseung.

you stared at him for what felt like several minutes, before realizing your hands were shaking. suddenly becoming hyper aware of your surroundings, you looked at jake. he didn’t seem to be taking the news too well either, his eyes way wider than you have ever seen.

as you looked back at heeseung’s corpse, you felt bile rising to your throat. all the times you guys laughed together, called each other lame, drank together—every single memory that you had of him, rushed through your mind like a movie fast forwarded.

unable to control yourself any longer, you moved to the side, running towards some random tree, before retching. you felt someone hold your hair up, but you couldn’t care less. you puked pure bile, your throat stinging. once you were done, you choked on your sobs.

getting up, you turned around to see jake, his own eyes filled with tears. he offered you a bottle of water, ignoring which, you hugged him tightly, sobbing into his jacket. he hugged you back just as tightly, his own tears wetting your shirt.

the chief cleared his throat. his voice cracked, as he spoke. “please escort him with dignity.”

the people who brought the stretcher carefully lifted heeseung’s body, taking him inside the ambulance. you watched the ambulance leave with teary eyes, before you started crying again.

outside the autopsy room, you and jake paced impatiently, waiting for news. the two of you had insisted on the autopsy to be done sooner than normal, determined more than ever to crack down the case. the killer had crossed a line by killing of a dear friend, he had to pay.

the doors to the room creaked open, both of you snapping your necks towards the source of the noise simultaneously. the guy wordlessly handled a file to you, shaking his head.

your shoulders sagged, but you weren’t ready to give up. opening the file, you scanned the pages, jake peering past your shoulder. the same ‘undiagnosed diabetes’ stared up at the two of you, along with something that stirred hope within the two of you.

mild concussion of the back of the head.

bingo. a small clue. minuscule, really, but a clue nonetheless. but then the hope quickly diminished. “heeseung went to victoria’s house to find any clues he missed out. the killer probably got to him there.” you spoke in a hollow voice.

jake hummed. “but… isn’t it odd?”

you frowned, looking at him. “what is?”

jake shook his head. “i mean, every murder happened while the victim was asleep. heeseung was killed out in the open, near one of the crime sites. doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

you blinked, looking back at the file. “it does… it certainly does.”

jake continued. “what if… what if he isn’t part of any pattern? what if he was killed because he found something? some sort of clue that would link the killer’s identity to the murders?”

the realization dawned on you. “sim jaeyun, you’re a fucking genius.”

he blushed. “i only meant it as a possibility. a mere speculation.” he said humbly.

you shook your head. “nope. you’re right. you’re absolutely correct. there isn’t another possible explanation to this, which makes it the truth, not just a speculation.”

jake scratched the back of his head. “well… what do we do then?”

you raised a brow. “isn’t it obvious? we do what we do best. i sketch and you dig up information.”

“look ma’am, i need you to think harder. this person is a serial killer, it is important we catch him quickly. so please try to remember.”

the woman looked genuinely sorry. “i’m really sorry dear, but i can’t remember anyone or anything out of the ordinary that i can remember from the past few days. i’m sorry i couldn’t be of much help.”

you sighed in disappointment. “that’s alright ma’am, i’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

you and your team left the house, going to the car. your assistant spoke. “ma’am, we have already covered all the houses. would you like to get going?”

you sighed, wanting to cry. you didn’t want to give up so soon, but there really didn’t seem to be much of a choice. “i suppose so…”

just then, a voice shouted from somewhere in the distance. “miss, wait!”

you looked towards the source. a boy in his teens was running towards you. almost tripping on his feet, he finally stood in front of you, panting heavily. you looked at him with concern. “are you alright?”

he nodded quickly, before taking in a deep breath. “i saw a stranger last night near… that lamppost. i know everyone in town, so i’m quite positive this person is not from here.”

your eyes widened, as you quickly spoke to double check. “you sure?”

he boy nodded. “i’m positive.”

your adrenaline had spiked. “can you describe him?”

the boy squinted his eyes. “uh… i can try?”

“good.” you said, immediately signaling your assistant to grab your sketchbook and pencil. “start describing.”

“well… the light was flickering, so i only saw him for like two seconds, before he was gone, but uh… he had pale skin? and black hair. his face was soft, i guess. not too rugged or anything. his eyes were kind of big, almost almond shaped? and he had a straight nose, full lips, and a pretty sharp jawline. oh, and he was handsome. like, i’m not gay or anything, but damn that man was attractive.”

as he spoke, your hand moved, quickly. as you drew, you added your own details, something which made you quickly realize that you knew this person. with increasing dread, you continued drawing, a full face quickly forming.

once you were done, you showed the drawing to the teen. “is this the guy?”

his eyes widened. “holy shit, yes! damn, you’re good. like—really good.”

you gave him a dry smile, before looking back at your sketch book. the hauntingly real face of jungwon stared right back at you.

chief was quiet, as he stared down at his cup of coffee, absent mindedly stirring it. your throat felt restricted, as you stared at heeseung’s empty seat. disgust rose to your throat in the form of bile, upon realizing that jungwon must have visited you after killing heeseung.

jake cleared his throat. “uhm… I looked through all of heeseung's records. it's completely clean. nothing in there outside of the information we already know. orphaned at a young age, studied hard, got a scholarship—then ditched it to join the police academy.”

chief sighed softly. “thank you jake." 

jake didn't reply, sitting down. noticing how tense you were, he reached out, putting his hand on your knee. rubbing gentle circles on it.

you looked at him, giving him a half smile to thank him. you had to look away quickly, not wanting him to see your tears.

“we must be close to figuring out who the killer is. must have been why he chose to kill off one of our best officers." the chief spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

you sniffled, muffling a small sob. wordlessly, you took out your sketch book, sliding it over to him. he looked up at you, before flipping through it, stopping at jungwon’s face. he frowned, before his eyes widened. "is this–?”

you didn't trust yourself to speak, so you nodded. the chief gave you a look that showed he was genuinely impressed. “good job, officer ___, good job.”

you only bowed your head lightly. you didn't know if the picture of jungwon at all made things better, or if it only complicated things more.

the chief took one last look at the sketch book, before passing it back to you. “i assume you will send me and everyone else on the force a picture of this?" 

you nodded.

the chief let out a hum. “in that case, you both can leave now. today's work is done. go home and take some rest. you both need it. and–” he looked at the two of you. "don't let today's loss deter you both from our goal. this killer is trying to discourage us from finding him. don't let him succeed.”

you felt a fresh batch of tears forming in your eyes at his words. so you kept silent. jake nodded. "i’ll try to find more information about all of our victims." 

the chief nodded. he looked at you. “you needn't do anything else, officer ___. finding the face of our killer is good enough. please go home and rest.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. standing up, you bowed. "i’ll take my leave now.”

the chief nodded again. "off with you two then.”

jake’s apartment was messy, fitting in with the computer science nerd stereotype. his desk was cluttered, everything astray. yet for him, nothing was out of place. in fact, he knew exactly where everything was, despite the mess.

carefully navigating through his organized mess, jake picked up some files he had brought home. they contained all the information he had gathered about the first three victims, and some more. he began flipping through the pages, wanting to find out anything else that might be relevant. anything important that he might have missed.

thing is, there were at least a dozen files in total. he hadn’t even gone through all of them yet, but still found quite a lot of useful information. although it was clearly not enough, since now they had in their hands the face of the killer, someone none of them recognized. which meant that this person didn’t belong to their town.

which made the questions arise: if according to previous clues, the killer is the child of a dead maid looking to avenge his mother, how come he is a face no one recognizes? how come he is in town, but hasn’t been spotted even once? other than when one eye witness accidentally spotted him?

questions, so many of them. yet their answers remained unknown. flipping through one of the files at the bottom of the stack, a hand recorded conversation caught his attention.

“i’m telling you right now officer, these new people in town are monsters, monsters i say!”

“that’s a serious accusation, sir. are you sure you’re not simply mistaken? news of your alzheimer’s has spread throughout the entire town, you know.”

“officer, you have to believe me! they killed a child! and hid away another! i heard them talking about it the other day! you must arrest them at once—who knows what else they are capable of?”

“mr. choi, i’m sure you’re mistaken. please go home and rest. make sure to take your medicine on time—i’ve heard you’re being quite stubborn while taking it?”

“fine, don’t believe me. but when these monsters do something worse, don’t tell me i didn’t warn you!”

given the date and time in the file, it wasn’t hard to estimate that the so-called ‘monsters’ mentioned in the file were the first three victims. especially since the fate of the two children mentioned there matched perfectly with the information he already found out.

he sighed, putting the files away. opening up his computer, he went back to the old articles about victoria. said articles were written by very small and unknown journalists, which was why they weren’t too popular—and consequently, very hard to find. scrolling through them, he quickly started becoming bored. they were all the same, nothing that he hadn’t already found out.

right as he was about to give up, a link to another article was provided in one of the comments under an article he had already read three times. clicking on the link, he was taken to a different tab, a different article on display.

this one apparently contained highly classified information, based on a conversation a reporter had with a servant of victoria, one who requested anonymity. skimming through it, a particular part caught his attention.

“—according to our source, victoria’s own child hadn’t actually died, and was in fact alive in the hospital. as the saying goes, walls have ears, our source having eavesdropped on victoria’s phone calls, figuring out exactly what happened to the kid. apparently her child fell into a coma, and was likely to forget everything upon waking up, as a trauma response. following which, victoria had secretly sent away her child to some other place to protect it from any future possible threats. meanwhile, the child of the maid she murdered, was sent away to an abusive foster home, presumably to die, since she didn’t want to get her hands dirty a second time. our source also mentioned that victoria had indeed succeeded in doing so, since she had delightedly shared the news of the child’s passing to her lover. our source also mentioned that–”

jake blanked out. the maid’s child was… dead? victoria’s own child was alive? what. the. fuck? that just made the case a shit ton more complicated than it already was.

looking back at his screen, he was about to scroll further, when suddenly a sharp pain struck the back of his head, accompanied with the dull sound of heavy metal colliding with something hard—in this case, his head.

he clutched the back of his head, his vision swimming. with difficulty, he tried turning around, only to be hit again. this time, he successfully passed out.

you had been staring at the ceiling for at least a couple of hours now. upon reaching home, you had immediately collapsed on the couch, staring up at the ceiling numbly. to think that heeseung was just… gone? it was too much to process, even after the autopsy had already been conducted.

your eyes burned, but you didn’t even have the energy to cry. to think that jungwon had probably killed heeseung before coming to your house and defiling you—and for you to have enjoyed it to a certain extent—it made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

speaking of which, your entire body felt itchy, dirty, disgusting—despite you having already showered in the morning. but maybe another shower was just what you needed, to get rid of his disgusting touch from your skin.

getting up, you headed to the bathroom. your clothes were drenched in sweat from the entire day’s activities, stripping them away and welcoming the cold air on your skin felt like heaven already.

turning up the water temperature, you let the tub fill half way, before stepping in. you instantly felt relieved, the tension leaving your muscles. picking up a bath bomb you had gotten earlier during the year on your birthday, you dropped it in the water, causing it to immediately explode, flooding the water. the smell was exceptionally relaxing, making you sigh and close your eyes, relaxing yourself further.

but you couldn’t relax for too long, since the sound of the door to the bathroom opening interrupted your calm. you sat up in horror, drawing your knees up to your chest.

it was jungwon.

he strolled in like he was taking a walk at the park, looking down at you with a smirk. “why do you look so surprised, pretty? i told you i was gonna come back.”

your hands shook from where they were shielding your chest. you stared up at him with terrified eyes. “why are you…?”

he raised a brow. “why am i here? i already told you, i was going to come back.”

you couldn’t breathe. now that you knew that he had killed heeseung, you felt a lot more terrified of him than before. “are you going to kill me as well?”

jungwon looked at you like you had grown a pair of horns atop your head. “kill you? god, no. of course not. why would i kill you?”

that reassured you. a little bit. “then…?”

he smirked, starting to pop open the buttons on his dress shirt one-by-one. “isn’t it obvious, beautiful?”

your eyes widened, as you quickly looked at your pants, which had your gun attached to the belt. if you were quick, you could reach it. but of course, jungwon wouldn’t let you do that.

“that wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, princess.” he said, making you snap your gaze back to him. his smirk never left, as he turned to look at the gun.

to your astonishment, and utter horror, it began floating, before flying across the bathroom, to the furthest corner. if you tried getting it now, jungwon would easily stop you. but the question remained: how the fuck did he make the gun levitate?

“wha—how?!”

jungwon chuckled. “there’s so many things you don’t know, ___”

he had already taken off all his clothes, going and sitting inside the bathtub with you. he leaned back casually, staring at you with a look that told you precisely all you needed to know—he had the upper hand over you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

he gestured to you with his hand. "come here princess."

you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. you drew your knees in closer, locking them in place with your hands around them.

his expression changed. "don't test my patience ___. come here while i'm still being nice."

you gulped, shaking your head again.

his expression hardened further. "i won't repeat myself again. come. here."

swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook your head again.

he sighed, giving you an almost disappointed look. "i didn't want to do this, really. but you leave me no choice."

you frowned, wondering what he was referring to. but he didn't let you wonder too much, as he flicked his wrist. with a gasp, you suddenly landed on his lap, your hands clumsily landing on his shoulders, aware of how your very bare lower halves were rubbing against each other.

you tried getting up, getting away from him, but his grip on your waist was tight. too tight. how the fuck was he so strong?

"don't bother trying princess. save your energy for later."

you let out a shuddering breath, helpless tears slipping down your face. "why are you doing this to me? what have i done to you?"

jungwon didn't answer. leaning forward, he licked a stripe up your cheek, the salty, yet invigorating taste of your defeat invading his taste buds. sometimes he felt sorry for you. truly, he did. you, as naive as you were, you had no idea about the truth. the truth which so very often threatened to rear its ugly head, threatening to ruin everything in a single slip up—the truth that everyone worked so hard to bury beneath the surface, with layers of nothing but blankets woven with lies. so yes, he felt sorry for you at times. but then he reminded himself why he started all of this in the first place.

but deep down, a part of him questioned it all: was it still revenge, or had it bent into something completely different?

you see, he hates you. hates you for something you were never actually a part of. any of… what had happened—but he still blamed you. how come you get to escape the aftermath of everything, but he doesn't? why was he the only one that had to suffer the consequences of something he never did? whereas you, another witness of the same goddamn crime gets to escape it all? why the discrimination?

was it simply because you were not as old as he was? was it because you couldn't comprehend what had actually happened? he tried, really did, to find reasons to excuse you. to let you off the hook. but perhaps there was more to it than he allowed himself to admit. more to the faux 'hate' he claimed to have in his heart for you. afterall, the strongest emotions to exist are often confused for one another.

but this was no time to contemplate such trivial things. right now, watching you fight your own body to try (and fail) to not fall apart in his hands was a lot more important. especially by making you initiate it yourself.

he pulled you closer to him, hugging your body to his, as he sucked at the spot under your jaw. one hand remained on your waist, the other further up your back. the position was intimate—it almost felt like the two of you were simply lovers getting carried away while bathing together—if it wasn't for your weak attempts at trying to push him away.

jungwon wanted to scoff at you. you weren't fooling anybody, if your pathetic attempts at muffling your moans were anything to go by. god, you were so easy. perhaps this was another reason he did what he was doing.

he pushed you further into him, letting go of your neck to kiss you instead. he wasn't being aggressive like you initially thought he would be. no, he was taking his time with you, kissing you slowly, sensually. almost like it was all consensual.

but god, with the way he made you feel, you might as well lean into it.

you didn't know when the water in the tub drained, but suddenly the pressure was off your lower halves. as you broke the kiss to breathe, you noticed the bottom unplugged. which meant the slipperiness where your cunt rubbed against his cock was because you were wet.

you wanted to blame it on jungwon. on your body for betraying you. for making you feel instead of grieving for your friend that was murdered. for making you enjoy being violated by the same guy that killed heeseung. anything to feel less guilty for doing what you were.

you didn't want to grind on him, you just… couldn't help yourself. he was making you feel like your entire body was on fire, electric shocks running up your spine every time he touched you. it was exhilarating. even if the voice in the back of your head screamed at you for betraying every one by letting yourself go.

but that was the thing, wasn't it? why shouldn't you be selfish for once? the entire circumstances were strange—the way you knew him, the things you knew he was capable of doing—all of it was strange. but none of it changed how real he made you feel.

so you allowed yourself to tilt your head back. to moan, to feel—because it might just be the last time you ever did.

jungwon grinded up into you, both feeling and seeing your initial hesitance melt away in real time, giving space for your real feelings to shine through. he had you right where he wanted, and he couldn't be more smug about it all.

holding your hips with both hands, he guided your movements, the sounds of your slick and your moans gradually taking over the entire space. if anything, it made his cock harder, twitching against your slick folds. god he wished he could just shove himself into you right fucking now—but that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it? he needed you to do it yourself. given how desperate you were getting, he was pretty sure you were getting way to close to doing so yourself.

true to his prediction, you let out the most pathetic whine he had ever had the pleasure of hearing from you, as you rocked your hips even more desperately over his. "please…"

jesus fucking christ. you really were desperate. "please what, angel?"

you let out another whine. "please—h-hah—fuck me?"

god, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, weren't you? "should i?"

you whimpered, your cunt practically throbbing from the lack of attention. you needed him to be inside you, or you were sure you would combust right there. so you lifted yourself up slightly, reaching one of your hands down to grab his twitching cock, clumsily lining him up to your folds, before sitting down, shoving him deep inside you. the 'splat' sound of your thighs slapping together echoing through the room.

the two of you let out collective moans, both of you a throbbing mess. you clenched, and unclenched around him, the wonderful feeling of finally being able to feel something so real while ignoring your conscience was… an experience to say the least. pressing your lips to his again, your hands found purchase on his shoulders. lifting yourself up, you dropped down again, his cock dragging across your gummy walls at the best possible angle.

jungwon gripped your waist—not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to guide your movements. he silently encouraged you to go faster, by bouncing you harder on top of him. your arousal dripped, and dripped, past his balls, wetting his thighs. the constant sound of your ass slapping against his balls filled the space, along with your your muffled moans.

you broke the kiss when your lungs started burning. jungwon focused on your neck instead, determined to fill the entire expanse with his marks. he trailed kisses across your jaw, sucking hickeys there too. his hickeys spread down to your collarbones, as his hands came up to grope your tits. sometimes his actions got a little too intense, causing you to clench down hard on him, which in turn caused him to twitch, small spurts of cum spilling into you. he wasn't embarrassed in the slightest, especially since it seemed to turn you on impossibly more.

your bouncing would slow down at times, but never coming to a full stop. sometimes you grinded onto him instead if it really became too much. but fuck, it was all too good to stop.

but all good things eventually come to an end. you were starting to feel overstimulated, your legs becoming sore as well, despite not being nearly close. fortunately for you, jungwon seemed to notice.

using one hand to support your waist, he used to other to rub light circles around your clit. when your moans started turning into whines, he pinched your engorged nub, before flicking on the sensitive bud. your nerve ending were already on fire, but he then started rubbing on it harshly, causing your moans to practically into screams.

you could feel your orgasm approaching steadily, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. when you felt it right on the tip of your tongue, jungwon started to shallowly thrust up into you. your orgasm crashed down on you like never before, your eyes rolling back till only the whites were visible. the gush of liquid pushed his cock out, but he pushed right back in, his own orgasm approaching quickly.

holding you in place, he pistoned his hips into you at an almost brutal pace, before making you sit flush on top of his cock, as he shot out ropes of warm cum straight into your cunt. your walls fluttered around him, your body slumping on his. you felt tired, so, so tired.

jungwon patted your head. it was ironic, how soft he was being with you, despite telling himself that this was all to punish you. since when had punishments felt almost like an act of love?

"sleep." he said, in this almost echoing voice. immediately, you were knocked out. he held your body close to his, staring down at the top of your head. he should kill you. it would be the right thing to do. you couldn't even defend yourself in this state. so what was stopping him?

was it his conscience? bullshit, he didn't have one. so why was he doing the opposite of what he originally planned?

he decided he didn't want to keep cuddling you like a lover while contemplating all this. so, he did what he thought was the best thing to do as of now. clean you up, put you to bed, and leave. silently. without leaving any traces of him ever being there in the first place. after all, leaving without a trace was something he excelled at.

anxiety gripped your heart like a vice, as you glared at jake's empty seat.

"officer ___, please, take a seat."

you shook your head. "where is jake? is he running late?"

chief kang didn't say anything, opting to stare at his lap.

you grew more and more frantic by the second. "he is running late, right? right?"

chief looked at you with sad eyes. "please, sit down." his voice was gentle, barely above a whisper.

you dropped to your seat with a thud, vision growing blurry. "no…"

chief sighed softly. "his landlord called us upon finding his limp body on his desk. the killer didn't bother with his usual theatrics this time, leaving the rose beside his head instead of laying him down like the other victims. there are visible injuries on his head as well. the autopsy has almost been finished by now."

your hands were shaky. "why wasn't i informed earlier?"

chief kang gave you an apologetic gaze. "you are already under a lot of pressure, i didn't want to add to it."

you looked at him with indignation, despite the tears running down your face. "i'm part of the force too! jake and heeseung were more than just my coworkers, they were my friends! i should have been the first person to be informed of this!"

chief nodded. "i understand dear, but please trust me when i say i did this out of good will. you have already done a lot, and i didn't want to work you up further."

you shook your head. "you don't understand, i–" a sudden thought struck you. you knew the killer. you have met him. despite the circumstances being strange, you should let the chief know, right? because… what if the next target is you? even if he said he wouldn't kill you? after all, why should you trust a killer, who also liked to play with you? both physically and psychologically?

so you did what you thought was best. "i… i know the killer. i have met him."

the chief's eyes widened in disbelief. "what?"

you shrank into your seat. "you don't believe me…"

the chief shook his head. "no no, of course i believe you. i was just surprised."

you took in a deep breath. "well—what i'm about to say now, that is something you may not believe. but i need you to understand that everything i will say is the truth and the truth only. i swear i will not lie or leave out any details whatsoever."

the chief nodded, giving you the green light to continue. swallowing the lump in your throat, you started speaking. you told him everything—every single dream, the full details of what happened, how the hickey manifested onto your neck outside of the dream, how he came to your house twice and forced himself onto you, how he literally levitated a gun and even you—every single detail.

when you finally finished, the chief was… shocked, to say the very least. "so statistically speaking… there is a chance that you're next."

you nodded. chief kang massaged his temples. "there is something we can do…" he looked at you with a very serious look in his eyes. "but you must be very discreet about it, understand?"

it was a lot later than usual when you finally reached your house. the silence in your house was nothing out of the ordinary, yet you felt a chill up your spine.

reaching your bedroom, you hesitated. your gut told you to run, run as far away as possible. but you ignored it, opening the door anyways.

as expected, jungwon was sitting on the bed. he was staring intently at a page in your sketchbook—presumably his own picture. he looked up at you, signature smirk back on his face. "you're late."

you swallowed the lump in your throat. "work." was all you said, your voice hollow.

he tilted his head. "are you unhappy about something?"

you stared at him, unblinking. "you killed two of my dear friends."

his smirk widened, but he didn't answer. looking back down at your sketchbook, he commented. "you're awfully talented. it's like staring at a mirror."

you clenched your fist, but forced yourself to remain calm. "what exactly is it that you want?"

jungwon looked up at you in surprise. "what do i want? why, i thought i had made it quite obvious from the very beginning?"

you frowned. sensing your confusion, jungwon offered. "you. it is you that i want. was it not obvious?"

you scoffed in surprise. "what?"

he let out a hum, getting up. he came and stood in front of you, hands behind his back. "why is it so hard to believe, princess?"

you shook your head, finding him ridiculous. "tormenting me through weird dreams, killing my friends, forcing yourself onto me multiple times—you did it all because you want me? what kind of a fucked up logic is that?"

he smirked again. "believe it or not, that's your choice. you asked me a question, and i merely answered it."

you glared at him. "in that case, i suppose you won't mind answering some more questions?"

he raised a brow. "shoot and find out."

so you began. "the first three victims—did you kill them because of revenge?"

"mhm."

"why? are you the son of the maid who victoria killed?"

jungwon scoffed. "my mother was no maid. she and victoria were childhood friends, and she went to visit her the day she died."

you frowned. so that meant some of the information you had was inaccurate. "how exactly did she die?"

he tilted his head. "i thought you already knew that victoria killed her. stabbed her with a knife."

you slowly nodded. "and you were there to witness it."

he nodded, so you continued. "why exactly did she kill her?"

his smirk returned. "you have noticed me doing things that seem… unusual, yes?"

you raised a brow. "you mean appearing in my dreams and levitating objects? then yes, i have."

his smirk widened. "my mother, in simple terms, was a witch. her abilities were something i inherited. victoria fought with my mother, because she was the only person who knew of her abilities. she threatened to reveal it to the public, if my mother didn't teach her how she did what she did."

"obviously she couldn't do so, since those powers could only be inherited. victoria, being a temperamental bitch, stabbed my mother over it. because victoria was a dear friend of hers, she couldn't defend herself, and the knife had struck a vital area, so she quickly stopped breathing. the servants had an inaccurate version of the whole ordeal since my mother created an illusion for them. she couldn't risk everyone finding out about her powers. but obviously the illusion didn't work on me, since that time my mind was pure. pure souls cannot be fooled by illusions."

you frowned. "what happened to you after all of it?"

he scoffed lightly. "they put me in an abusive foster house and paid them to kill me. but i killed them first, and mimicked their voices over the phone and told them that i was the one that died. fuckin' dumbasses believed it."

you blinked slowly, trying to wrap your head around it all. "how did you kill them? was it also using your… powers?"

he smirked. "only to an extent. i used a syringe to pump a few doses of insulin under their tongues. that's why they seemed to die of undiagnosed diabetes."

"what about the roses? what did they signify?"

he tilted his head, leaning down slightly. staring dead into your eyes, he spoke. "why, they symbolized you of course."

you blinked several times, staring at him in shock. "me?"

he raised a brow. "of course, rosie. they symbolize you."

you shook your head. "rosie?"

he stared at you, the look in his eyes causing your heart to practically thump out of your chest. "that's your name. don't you remember?"

you shook your head, stepping back. "what the fuck are you talking about right now?"

he took a step forward, towards you. "don't you remember? you were there when my mother was killed."

your eyes widened. "what?"

he took another step towards you. "she was killed by your mother, after all."

it was as if the entire world stopped. the air was knocked out of you, a dull ringing began in your ears. long back, when you bumped into victoria in the market, she had grabbed you and called you rosie.

rosie! oh my darling rose, i missed you…

an image flashed in front of your eyes. a colorful bedroom, a beautiful woman—your mom—sitting in front of you, gazing at you with the fondest smile, as she fed you neatly sliced and peeled apples. "say aaaah…"

the scene changed. your mother—victoria—arguing with a man. "look at her, she is just a baby! she doesn't deserve this! won't you come back for her sake?"

the scene changed. a different man, your father—seil—teaching you how to make paper airplanes. "and then you throw it into the wind, like that—good job!"

the scene changed again. your mother arguing with another woman. a boy few years older than you stood beside you, watching the scene beside you from the top of the stairs. suddenly, victoria charged at the unfamiliar woman with a knife, stabbing her.

blood splattered onto the floor. the shocked faces of both your mother and the woman imprinted into your brain, as your vision swam. as you fell, the boy looked at you in panic, trying to catch you, but failed. your head hit the ground, and you rolled down the stairs.

you snapped back to reality. jungwon was looming over you with a smirk. he glanced down at your necklace. "is that enough information for your backup, or do they need more?"

the chief looked at the rest of the officers sitting in the car, listening to everything from the tiny mic they had installed in your necklace. "now!"

the entire force burst out of the cars which were parked right outside your house, bursting into your house. the chief screamed into his loud speaker. "you have been surrounded from all sides! do not try to run, or harm ms. ___, as it will only earn you a graver sentence."

there was silence from the microphone on your necklace. having a bad feeling about it, the chief hastily burst into your room, the rest of the force following him.

it was empty. not a single trace of anyone being there. no open windows either. ordering the force to search the entire house, he went towards the bed. your sketchbook lay there, pages flipping due to the wind from the fan.

picking it up, he flipped through them himself. he expected the last sketch to be of jungwon, but he was wrong. squinting, he stared at the last sketch. it was of you, a terrified expression on your face. a small rose was drawn next to your face. on the bottom, a small message was inscribed.

'the beauty of some roses never fade, even after death.'

˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥 ⁀જ⁀➴ film starting……..

The chaotic bursts of neon light from the monitors washes over the room, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls of Heeseung’s room.

The room smells of expensive cologne, ozone from the humming PC, carrying the faint and sterile scent of rosewater and gentle soap in the air. 

You are seated on Heeseung’s lap, straddling his hips, knees around them, on his chair, facing him in a position that the friction of your thighs against his jogger’s can’t be ignored.

Heeseung is fully concentrating on his game for now. 

His eyes are sharp, darting to every move in the game, playing it very carefully though you are quite a distraction to him. 

The headset he has on is filled with sounds of  explosions and gunshots, and he  pushes one piece of the headset aside so he can hear you.

You hold a small glass jar aloe vera gel, the product cool and smooth between your fingertips.

You’ve been massaging it on his face for the past ten minutes or maybe you just use it as an excuse to stay on his lap longer. 

But then still, you don’t care about the game he was playing, you just wanted to end the ‘washing face with whatever soap is there in the shower’ routine for him, so he can get good and fresh skin.

“Stop moving idiot” you murmur, voice soft but firm and commanding him a little because he keeps on moving.

You can feel the heat radiating from him as you blend the cream on his face in small upwards circles.

His jaw is clenched, trying his best not to feel you and your stupid tactics as a distraction, which you are sitting innocently on his lap like you don't understand what’s wrong in doing this.

“I’m in an important fight, Y/N” he grunts, though there’s no real anger behind his voice.

“If I lose this round, I’m gonna blame you and your so-called skincare routine” he adds, mocking lightly.

“Uhh, my skincare routine is obviously way better than whatever you do in the stupid shower,” you retort, sliding your fingers on his temple now.

“No soap is gonna clean your face like my skincare does, your skin feel shit, and it’s screaming for help, so think of this as an upgrade for your face”

He lets out a laugh, his eyes fixed towards the screen. “Sure,” he says as if it’s nothing, “My skin has a mouth and it’s screaming”. 

You roll your eyes at that, moving a little back so you can look at him even though he doesn’t.

“Just because it doesn’t have a loud, cocky mouth like you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” you shoot back. 

“And for your kind information,” you continue, leaning closer to his face again, to spread the gel on his face, “You’re skin is so dehydrated, maybe it looks fine, but it really isn’t, so be grateful”

“I should be— What? grateful? Why? And what? I have a cocky mouth?” he splutters, turning towards you showing an exaggerated, horrified expression which was totally just acting.

"First place, I don’t even care about my skin, Second, you should be grateful that I’m letting you do this while I’m literally in the middle of a serious fight, Third—”

“Hey, dont move!,” you interrupt, pushing back his face towards the screen.

“I can’t do it properly, if you keep moving” you add and he becomes quiet and goes back to playing his game very seriously.

You slowly get even more closer to his face. 

For real, you’ve done this almost a hundred times before, sitting on his lap touching his face and all stuff, but today something in the air feels different.

For the first time the closeness doesn’t feel normal.

It feels dangerous, surreal and maybe something new.

Every time he breathes near you, every time his chest brushes against yours, you feel your pulse raise. 

You try to ignore it, focusing your attention back to what you are doing, but it only makes it worse, because now, you’re actually looking at him. 

The sharp line of his nose, the long lashes that fall against his skin, the bambi-like looking eyes, and then your gaze drops down— unintentionally. 

You blink, realizing you are staring at him, you shake your head slightly to clear it, pushing those sudden, distracting thoughts away as quickly as they come. 

You don't want to be caught by him, which will only make it more embarrassing.

You quickly turn back to your work— properly this time. 

So, you shift your weight, moving closer to him, trying to adjust the position so reaching the bridge of his nose would be easier.

As you move, your thighs slide against his joggers, hips very slightly against each other, the friction sending a sudden spark through your body, but you push it away. 

It was just a small moment for you, which you just want to ignore, but it sent a shudder through Heeseung’s body which you didn’t know.

“Fuck—” Heeseung groans, throwing his head back against the chair, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, suddenly gripping your hip with one hand so tightly as you freeze at the pressure.

“Don’t—Don’t fucking do that, I’m trying my best to concentrate, baby” he forces out softly, the words tight as he grits his teeth.

You don’t understand what happened.

One second, you’re applying the gel on his face, moving closer to reach his nose—and the next, he throws his head against the chair and it’s pissing you since you already told him to not move.

“I said to not move, Heeseung!!  And seriously, it’s not my mistake that you can’t concentrate on your game” you say, a hint of irritation slipping through your voice.

You don’t understand what is wrong or what is his problem, even though it was quite obvious you couldn’t figure it out, so you just get back to working on his face. 

You shift your weight again, trying to adjust your position to get a better angle on his face, slightly moving left. 

This movement causes your leggings to unintentionally rub your thigh against his growing hardness.

“Baby, fuck—“ he rasps, as his other hand also leaves keyboard to grab the other side of your hip and holds you so tightly with both of the hands that you were sure it will leave few bruises by tomorrow. 

His head abruptly falls on your shoulder as the room fills with the loud harsh blares from the monitor which indicates he lost the game but you didn’t know it.

“Heeseung what the—” before you could even scold him, you gasp from him pulling you down, pressing you against him in a way that you can feel his big bulge on your core. 

“Heeseung….” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Don’t—fucking don’t,” he starts, speaking as his head is still on your shoulder, you hear it in his voice, how he is trying his all best to control himself. 

“Don’t tell me stop when all I was doing was sitting here….trying my all best to control myself, while here you are sitting on my fucking lap, moving how ever you want……. God! Y/N you’ve been killing me here, I can’t stop anymore—”

He stops talking, lifting his head from your shoulder before capturing your lips in a searing, aching, desperate kiss, hands moving from your hips to your waist, gripping it so tightly it knocks the air out of your lungs.

He kisses you rough, like gentleness isn’t even an option right now, like he’s done holding back, done pretending this doesn’t mean anything as the gel smears on your face from his face.

All the years of your friendship, when he did his best to hold back, but now he’s done.

For a second you forget how to breathe, the intensity, the desperation and the desire from his mouth against yours, knocking the thoughts out of your brain.

You don’t even process the fact that HE, HE, your best friend is kissing you right now. Never in a million years did you think this out of all would happen—a lie you had a lot of sex dreams with him cuz he was too hot, and……..never mind.

You are still trying to process this when the grip on your waist tightens to pull you out of your thoughts.

The jar slips from your hand, shattering into pieces, and gel spreads everywhere on the floor, but you don’t even notice it. 

You melt against him, your hand slowly moving from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers curling tightly in the hair as you pull him closer and kiss him back with the same desire, desperation and intensity.

He lets out a low deep growl, something filled with satisfaction like he knew you would kiss him without holding back.

It vibrates through your whole body, slowly heat starts coiling up in your lower belly more than what you felt a while ago.

You start feeling needy and want him more than you ever did.

But then he pulls back, forehead against yours, his breath hot, and his lips swollen from the hard rough kiss.

“Tell me to stop—” he whispers against your mouth in a low hoarse, octave voice which sends a shiver through your body.

You shake your head instantly before he can even finish.

“No,” you whisper, the word barely leaving your throat. “Don’t. Please don’t ” 

You roll your hips against his voluntarily. 

You need more.

You need the friction to not be a tease and start being the truth. The reality.

“Fuck—“ Heeseung hisses the moment he hears the deny and feels the roll of your hips directly against his bulge.

This time you’ve done it on purpose, you need more and you are clearly showing it.

He roughly grabs your jaw,tilting your head back, and crashing his lips on to yours again.

This time it’s all tongue and teeth, he doesn’t ask for permission, he claims it like it’s his.

You gasp into the kiss, this was more aggressive and desperate han before.

He takes his chance to enter his tongue into your mouth when you gasp.

His tongue plunges into your mouth, taking in your whispers and every inch of your mouth, he doesn’t waste a single single second.

His palm is hot.

He moves his hand from your waist to your hips as they slowly slip under your long hoodie or probably his which you wear all the time.

His hands move on your lower back, pulling you closer that there isn’t a millimetre also left between you both.

He breaks the kiss to move lower, his lips dragging along your jaw, sucking gently, before moving down to the column of your throat.

You tilt your head back without thinking, giving him more, your fingers going to his shoulders to hold tightly as his kisses grow firmer, more lingering.

“Hee….mm….Hee…” your breath stutters, his name coming from your mouth like a chant, unsteady whispers, which you can’t hold back anymore. 

His hand moves down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before delivering a spank.

His palm against your ass made you leave out a loud gasp, your back arching slightly.

He doesn’t pull away, he soothes it down slowly, in a way it makes your toe curl. 

The literal sensation sends sparks right over to your core, making you clench a round nothing.

He starts placing open mouthed kisses near your collarbone and neck, his breath hot and damp, leaving the warmth of his mouth behind.

He moves below your ear, instantly financing your sweet spot and nips your skin lightly.

You let out a sharp cry, breathing unsteadily.

The moment you let it out, he leans in again, nipping it harder than before, sucking a dark, purple mark, visibly claiming you.

He follows down to your collarbone, nipping wherever he finds your sweet spots to let out those sweet little sounds that feel like music to his ears.

You don’t stop, you keep whimpering his name, gasping when his tongue darts out to lick gently after nipping on your sweet spots.

You are drenched. 

Your panties are suffocatingly tight because of the silk clinging to your folds as you leak for him.

You need him.

You need to feel full.

You were sure it is making it hard to even take in air properly just because of his hot kisses on your body.

One of his hands tugs the hem of your hoodie, asking you permission if he was allowed to remove it while he was still busy marking you up.

“Yes! Please—remove it” you please, your voice cracking a little bit.

He doesn’t even take a second to tug it off, the moment you accept it, in one fluid motion he pulls it off you.

For a second he freezes.

You aren’t wearing a bra, the cool air hitting your bare skin, making your nipples harden and maybe you weren’t even sure if it was air or his gaze all over your body making you turn again and again and again…..

You aren’t wearing anything else except the black lace of your panties peeking out of your tiny shorts you wore.

“Fuck baby—” he growls, his eye’s darkening, pupils expanding until his hazel is almost entirely black.

He looks at you like you’re both sin and miracle given to him at once.

“This is what you have been gatekeeping from me, huh?” he asks, his hands moving to cup the underside of your breast, lifting them up slightly, as his thumb slightly grazes over the peck.

 You whimper, throwing your head back at that little touch surge of pleasure shoots to your core.

“This tiny waist,” his hands moving to the mid section, squeezing the softness there, devouring your body with his eyes.

“These wide, beautiful hips,” his finger moving on the waistband, pulling the elastic tight.

He bends a little, pressing a hot, lingering kiss right above the fabric of your panties, his lips grazing the skin of your hip.

The sensation sends a jolt through your body, sending shivers as your legs shake.

“Including the ass you’ve been teasing me with for years,” he said his voice filled with lust and love, and then he looks at you, how you look wrecked just for his touch.

He spanks you again, harder and more firm this time.

You cry out, a sound filled with shock, pleasure and pain, but please wins it all for now.

You thought he would probably soothe it again but no, it was paining harder but he made no movement to touch or soothe it, just casually leans back on to the chair.

He just lets it linger there, making it a reminder for you.

To remind you, who you actually belong to though he hasn’t fucked the shit out you yet.

Now his gaze isn’t on your face, it moves lower.

Your neck. No

Your collarbone. No

Your Shoulders. No

Just shamelessly, directly looking at your breasts with a hungry gaze, something you wanted to see all along.

“And finally……these beautiful, big boobs” he whispers.

He bends down, his lips hovering right over your breast, his hot breath teasing your nipples.

And then he pecks it…..to just tease you more.

The moment his hot breath was on your nipple.

Just his hot breath. 

Hot.

Breath.

You found yourself getting hungrier for him, you didn’t want him to tease you, you needed him, right then and there.

He knew it, he knew how you felt, how you are breathing, how you need him, but won’t give you what you want right now.

“Hee please—” you grind on him again but he holds back your hips making you stop, before you please again or tell him how badly you need him.

Then he starts sucking it, like he can’t hold back anymore, like this was the last thing left on the earth, maybe even like he was thirsty for them.

He wants to tease you, but couldn't hold himself back from you either, that grinding, those pleas from your mouth, made him rethink his decision from teasing you.

You could hear his sucking sounds, wet and vulgar, because of the wetness of his saliva spreading on to your nipples.

Your back arches, your hands instinctively find his hair, gripping it tightly.

He groans at the tight pull of his hair, making him harder underneath.

He sucks on your nipples, tongue circling around the peck, and tugging it slightly before sucking it again, doing the same thing over and over again, while his other hand finds your breast, squeezing, kneading it and rolling your nipple in between his fingers.

You moan, loud, honest, no stopping.

The pleasure was too good.

Your hips start bucking instantly against his bulge again, rolling your hips harder than before, grinding more.

He notices it as he pulls back from sucking with a wet plop.

“Eager now baby?” He teases, his voice dropping low.

You nod, hips moving harder, searching for friction.

For a second he thought to let you do something at least for yourself or not stopping you like he was before but no, straight away his hands move to your hips stopping you right when you thought it was getting better.

Then he bends down and moves to the other breast without a word to you, giving it the same attention as before, while his other hand was on the breast which was wet from his saliva, but still playing with it, satisfying you with his hand.

It was good, undeniably you like you, but the fact that your pussy was throbbing to be filled was not ignorable. 

You didn't want to wait. 

“Hee….please…please..I need you so bad—ahh” you let out a sharp cry as he bites down your nipples, his hands lowering, across your thighs and rids your shorts from your legs without asking you.

“Needy baby?” He asks as he pulls back, like knew nothing.

“Hee—ahhh” you moan when his fingers touch the wetness of your pussy just through the lace black panties.

“So wet for me baby” he coos as he feels the moisture soaking through the lace.

He finally strips them away also, leaving you bare on his lap, pressing against him.

The contact is sharp, as now you are directly pressing against the rough fabric over his bulge.

He finds his way to your clit, pressing on the swollen bud right away, rubbing it in circles with no patience, but with punishing pressure that makes your vision blur.

Your mouth opens, letting out sharp breaths, eyes shut, finally getting whatever you’ve been longing for, you instinctively bite down on your lips as choked sobs and moans come out of your throat.

“No baby, don’t bite your lip, don’t stop, moan for me, darling” he says softly, before pushing 2 fingers into your soaking warmth at once.

You scream from the sudden push, it wasn’t warned, it was too sudden.

He starts pushing deeper into your spongy walls, as your walls clench around his fingers, he groans in your neck, his fingers curling in spots making you moan and vision blur from the pleasure.

“Fuck baby, thats it, take my fingers like a good girl” he finally adds the third finger, stretching you apart as you wail, and then heeseung leans to kiss you again, tongue entering your mouth directly, taking in all your sounds while pumping his fingers in and out, while his thumb presses and circles on your bud.

He moves faster, pulling away from the kiss, gripping your hips tightly while pumping his fingers faster, your hands move to his shoulders tightening as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, while whimpering and gasping, leaving out breathy huffs.

As you feel your orgasm building, tightening low in your belly, just the tension in your thighs becomes unbearable.

“Hee— I’m—” before could even finish your sentence, he pulled out his fingers, just only the pad of his thumb pressing over your swollen clit, trapping the pleasure before it could explode.

Your eyes open wide, blown in shock as a moan of frustration screeches from your throat at the literal loss of his fingers inside.

“Hee, why–” you gasp, hips bucking instinctively towards his hand wanting more.

“Mmm” he just hums, looking down at your pussy while circling your clit, rubbing it in small circles but never quite providing the friction you need to tip over the edge.

“Hee, please!” you whine, trying to grind his hand, but he holds your hip tight enough to not let you move, he is still looking at your pussy, but then finally looks up.

Eyes dark with lust, his smoldering gaze at you making you pause for a second before he says “please, what?” in a low octave, his voice sounding husky.

“I-I need to come,” you wail, grinding on his bulge over his rough fabric making you want more, in fact you’ve never felt this needy.

Him edging you just made it worse, you couldn't take the teasing now, you need him and you won't stop asking for it.

“please hee please I need you, I want you so badly. I can’t take it anymore!!” you beg. 

He chuckles, a dark, hungry sound.

He doesn't put his fingers back in you or do anything you asked for.

Instead, he starts to kiss you, deep, demanding kisses that taste of mint and desperation.

The intensity of the kiss swallows you while leaving you breathless and your hands move to his head, running your hands through his long, lustrous black hair.

His tongue slides against yours, sucking and swirling desperately while sliding down his joggers and boxer to pull his cock out.

He pulls away from the kiss, pulling your head back away from his.

You look down into his hands and the moment you saw it, you were starstuck.

He is big.

Not big like you think, very big in a way you weren't sure if you could even take him.

It was shocking.

You knew this was coming, when you guys crossed your lines today but god he is just so big.

His cock is big, fucking standing straight, curling a little but still so so straight in way you never stood in your whole life, wow, it is hot and swollen, throbbing as the tip is in a beautifully pink color, glistening with precum as he held the shaft in his hand.

You are staring at it shamelessly, because who wouldn't look at something so beautiful and gorgeous. 

“Like what you see baby?” he asks, when he caught you staring at his cock.

You snap out of your thoughts, raising your head up, eyes locking on to his eyes, as your cheeks burn from embarrassment.

“Want it inside you baby?” he questions as he feels your arousal just by looking at you face.

You nod slightly and that's what it takes before he jerks it on your pussy once, slapping his cock against it a few times, spreading his precum all over.

An unfiltered screech comes out of your throat, showing how needy you are when he slaps the tip on your pussy.

You move a little, rubbing it a little on his cock, whimpering a little.

“You want it so bad right? You’ll get it baby” he doesn't wait another second.

 He grips your waist and heaves you upward and then slams you down on to his cock.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders as you scream into the crook of his neck when he buries himself, all the way to the hilt inside you in one fluid, powerful motion.

The fullness is overwhelming, a blunt pressure that hits your cervix and sends ripples of pleasure radiating through your entire lower body. 

The sensation is overwhelming, the feeling of being completely filled, the stretch of your pussy, the sudden, intense heat of him deep within your pussy.

You feel your internal muscles spasm around him, clamping down tight, clenching it so tight which makes Heeseung leave a raw guttural growl out feeling you all around him.

His cock twitches inside you, showing how badly he needed this.

“Baby–fuck, so tight…you feel so good baby” he says, his hands sliding down to your ass gripping. 

You stay still for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the only sound the heavy thrum of the PC fans and your synchronized gasping.

The gaming chair creaks as you begin to move, tentatively at first, lifting your hips a few inches and then sliding back down.

You only lift an inch before slamming back down, the impact making the gaming chair rock precariously. 

The feeling of him filling inside you was so so good, that you didn't care about anyone hearing your moans, as your moans echo all through the room. 

Your grip on his shoulder tightens as the pleasure of him being inside you, stretching you apart with his cock was the best feeling you ever felt.

The squelching and wet sounds of your pussy moving on his cock, taking him all the way down to his shaft, then moving back halfway, and falling back down, with your moans and Heeseung’s groans fill you the room.

The sounds are lewd, obscene or even pornographic, it didn't feel real.

You riding your best friend's cock feels like a dreaming true. 

You slowly find your rhythm, more confident, more desperate.

Your mouth falls agape, moaning loudly every time you ride him, head falls back as the tip hits that spot that makes you see stars, your breasts bounce with every downward thrust, your hardened nipples scrape against his shirt every time.

“Yes, just like that baby” he groans as his head hits the chair, while he grips your ass and starts lifting you higher so he can move deeper. 

You are desperate now, the need for release overriding everything.

The friction against your clit is intense, a searing heat that builds with every slide.

You lean forward, your hair falling over your face, your mouth finding his again.

The kiss is sloppy, desperate, the sound of your tongues clashing mixing with the wet slaps of your bodies. 

Tentatively, Heeseung also starts moving his hips up, thrusting upward slowly, testing the waters to see how it would be.

And fuck it, it was so so so good.

“Ahh” you moan as the tip of his cock hits deeper in your pussy, as your walls clench around him in pleasure.

You scream into his mouth, it is so intense, your pussy takes him all the way on to his shaft.

You keep riding him until you feel that low tingling feeling in your lower stomach.

You are about to come, you needed it any minute now.

You are moving faster, breath uneven, shamelessly moaning so loudly, you are sure your neighbours could hear it but you couldn't care less.

“Ngh heee” you wail, you dont know if its pain or pleasure or all together but it was good and stretching you apart and finally you are about to come.

“Hee–hee i-m im coming!!” you choke out, the orgasm is about to come as he moves his hips faster, thrusting harder.

“Yes baby, yes, come for me, come on my cock baby” he says, holding your hips, gripping it so hard, it could leave red marks on it and speeding up the movements, slamming you down onto his cock, taking control.

“Ahh–mm yess, yess im coming!!” you throw your head back, a loud, uncontrolled cry escaping your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

Heeseung doesnt stop, he fucks you through it, chasing his orgasm. 

“Hee—” you scream so loudly, it was too much, you are overstimulating, you coat his cok, milking it all the way.

“I-i cant..too much–”

“Yess, you can, you can for me baby” his movements becoming faster, more erratic. He's grunting now, the sounds guttural and raw.

He lifts you slightly and then slams you down, the leather of the chair creaking loudly under the strain.

The sound of your pussy engulfing him is a wet, rhythmic squelch, the air being pushed out of your orifice in small, needy puffs. 

“Im-im coming baby” he moves faster again and again.

“Im gonna fill you up, you’re gonna take me like a good girl and fill you up right?” he says as he looks at you and captures your lips into kiss again.

You feel him tense, his entire body turning to stone beneath you.

With one final, deep thrust that feels like it reaches your very soul, he lets out a loud, guttural roar, his entire body tensing.

He gives one final, massive thrust, burying himself as deep as possible as you feel the hot, pulsing jets of his cum hitting your cervix, filling you up, the liquid warmth spreading through your internals.

“Fuck–take it baby” 

You moan as he fills you up, while he grunts and finally comes undone inside you which felt so so so good.

As the intensity fades, he doesn't move.

He keeps you pressed against him, his heart hammering against your ribs.

You can feel his cock slowly softening inside you, though he remains deep within. A small amount of semen and lubricant leaks from the junction of your bodies, dripping onto the black leather of the chair with a soft patter. 

“That was–soo good” you whisper to him.

He smiles, that goddamn smile that melts you right away, probably even your bones.

He pushes a wet hair stand behind your hair as he finally speaks.

“Very good. Are you happy?” he asks and that genuinely made you feel happy that he was asking your opinion. 

You nod, you look wrecked so did he, both of you breathing heavily, faces flushed.

“Are you ok?” he asks you sweetly after showing his dark side which you loved and so did you like that gentleness in his which made your heart filp and beat faster.

You blush as you nod and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Dont hide baby” he pulls you back cupping your face. 

“Mm” you whine sweetly.

He kisses your forehead gently.

"So," he says, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. "I think I lost that match."

You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"Worth it?"

"The best loss of my life," he whispers, kissing your temple. 

Heeseug twitches inside you, making you whimper.

“You’re still inside me hee” you say to him as it hurts a little but don't bother but it's still sticky and messy altogether. 

But then he shrugs it off as if it's nothing, you frown and ask him “what?” and try to pull away.

He doesn't let you, he slams you back down as you scream and squeal from shock.

“Hee–” then while you are still inside him, he abruptly stands up, while still holding you tightly around your waist and still inside you.

“Ready for round 2 baby?” he asks as you widen your eyes in shock while his cock gets stiff all the way till his shaft again.

“Hee~” he crashes his lips on to yours slamming you onto the wall and starts moving inside you.

˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥 ⁀જ⁀➴ film ending.......

taglist- @prettygirlthings-world @strawberrywonnie @heeqluv @isagistar @hoonieslove

You hear him before you see him—always the same: the hurried shuffle of too-big shoes, the frantic slam of a shoulder against the swinging glass door, and the apologetic murmur of “Morning” that barely beats out the time clock.

You don’t even look up from your monitor. “It’s 9:47.”

Sunghoon wheezes into his cubicle—which, of course, is right next to yours. His tie is crooked, his glasses fogged, and his hair’s got a single, infuriatingly perfect curl bouncing on his forehead like it was placed there by angels. 

“Yeah,” He huffs. “Sorry. There was traffic.”

There’s always traffic in Metropolis. But that excuse is wearing thin, especially when he is the only one in the building who acts like he has to physically leap over it. 

You finally glance up, deadpan. “You know who else got stuck in traffic today? Me. Chaewon. The kid from copy who literally rides a unicycle to work. We all still made it to work on time.”

He runs a hand through his hair and smiles sheepishly, like that’s supposed to mean something. And somehow, it always does—with everyone else. Chaewon laughs it off. Riki yells, but only half-heartedly. Even Jake calls him “Jeolla” like it’s an inside joke and not an indictment of his hometown and somehow his incompetence. 

But you?

You are not charmed.

You’re Gotham born and bred. You’ve filed stories from under police tape, from fire escapes, from alleys where the blood was still wet. You didn’t claw your way out of that city just to share a byline with a man who treats deadlines like vague suggestions and shows up to work looking like he just wrestled a tornado.

Again!

“You’ve been late every day this week, Park,” You mutter, turning back to your monitor. “If you’re aiming for a record, congrats. You’re winning.”

He’s quiet for a beat. You think you’ve shut him up, finally. But then—“I’ve never really been good at winning things,” He says softly, almost like he’s talking to himself. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he says it, not pathetic. Just… strange. Like maybe he means something bigger. You almost ask. 

Almost.

Instead, you scoff and shake your head. “Try winning a Pulitzer. Might help your case.”

He grins again, that irritating, dimpled grin, and unpacks his bag like he didn’t walk in almost an hour later. You hate that he’s always late. You hate that nobody seems to care. You hate that he never has a good excuse, but still somehow gets away with it.

And most of all?

You hate that you’re starting to care enough to notice.

2 ── You hate his "aw shucks" act.

If Park Sunghoon’s lateness is a thorn in your side, then his personality is the knife twisting next to it. 

Not that it’s a bad personality, exactly. That’s the problem. On paper, he’s the perfect coworker—polite, humble, well-liked by every living soul in the building. He holds elevators. He offers to do coffee runs even when it’s pouring. He once helped Heeseung from Archives fix the jammed printer with nothing but a safety pin and a hopeful smile.

People adore him. They smile when he walks into the room. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Trust him. 

You do not.

Because you’ve been watching. You’ve been taking mental notes since week two. That “aw shucks, I’m just a small-town guy from Jeolla” routine is too well rehearsed. No one is that gentle and that oblivious. No one stammers through meetings and then turns in a perfect copy by the end of the day. No one is that clumsy—spilling coffee, tripping over wires—and yet somehow always lands on their feet.

You didn’t come from Gotham to fall for the world’s oldest trick.

So when he chuckles nervously after Chaewon slaps him on the back for landing a quote from the Steel Syndicate leader—a quote you had been chasing for a week—you grit your teeth and mutter:

“Oh, give me a break!”

Sunghoon turns to you, blinking. “Sorry?”

You don’t bother to fake it. “You play the ‘golly gee’ routine, but you’re sharper than you act. And frankly, it’s annoying.”

His brows knit behind his glasses. “I’m not acting.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Right. You just accidentally out-interviewed me and walked away with the best lead we’ve had all quarter.”

He laughs, scratching the back of his neck, all bashful. “I really wasn't trying to one-up you. I just—I guess he liked me?”

You scoff. “Of course he did,” You mumble. “Everyone does. Must be the charm of your down-home, butter-wouldn’t-melt-bullshit!”

“I’m from Jeolla, not Nebraska,” He says, like that explains everything.

You lean forward across your desk, voice low. “I’ve met people from Jeolla. They don’t act like they’ve never heard someone curse before.”

Sunghoon shrinks back slightly, like your words sting, but there’s a twitch of something else in his eyes—like he’s fighting a smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse,” He offers gently.

You narrow your eyes. “I save it for when I’m alone. Or keep it in my head. Like right now, for example. Internally? It’s a full symphony of four-letter words.”

He snorts, an actual snort, then claps a hand over his mouth like he’s embarrassed by it. That’s when you realize something terrifying. He’s not pretending to be harmless.

He is harmless.

And that somehow makes it worse.

Because no one is harmless in this job. Not in journalism. Not in Metropolis. Especially not if they’re good at it. And Sunghoon? Despite the dopey smile, the apologies, the way he trips over every desk in the bullpen. Sunghoon is very good at it.

You hate that his small town bullshit works. You hate that it makes people underestimate him. You hate that it almost worked on you. But the worst part? You’re starting to realize it’s not an act. It’s who he is.

And that makes you want to scream.

3 ── You hate how he somehow always gets the exclusive.

There’s something sacred about how the word exclusive in a newsroom. It’s the holy grail—the thing that earns you front pages, corner offices, Pulitzers. You’ve chased exclusives down back alleys, stayed on hold for eons, bribed a coffee-stained secretary with two croissants and a MetroCard just to get one measly quote from a crooked city councilman

But somehow, Park Sunghoon just gets them.

Every. Fucking. Time.

He never brags. That would at least make him bearable. He just shows up—late, of course—shrugs off his coat, and drops a crisp interview transcript on Riki’s desk like he tripped over it on the sidewalk.

It’s infuriating.

You first noticed it during the Union Square train derailment. Superman was spotted hauling survivors out of the wreckage. No reporters got near him. Police kept everyone back. Even Chaewon couldn’t get close. And she's Chaewon!

But the next morning?

There it was: Superman Speaks on Metropolis Disaster by Park Sunghoon.

You stared at the byline like it had personally offended you. Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you read the quote—exclusive, lengthy, insightful. Too insightful.

“He said that?” You asked Sunghoon across the bullpen.

Sunghoon blinked. “Uh, yeah. He flew by while I was walking back from a source.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what, he just… pulled you into the sky for a heart-to-heart?”

Sunghoon smiled, bashful. “We’ve talked a few times.”

You nearly choked on your burnt coffee.

A few times?

Since then, it’s been quote after quote. Superman says this. Superman warns that. Every piece is conveniently labeled “as told to Park Sunghoon.” You’ve pitched a dozen stories with solid leads, real impact, and Riki still passes them over in favor of Sunghoon’s Superman exclusives.

You’ve tried to ask how he does it. Casually. Aggressively. Once while both of you were on a stakeout at a warehouse near Suicide Slums, you even offered him your last protein bar if he’d just tell you how the hell he keeps finding Superman.

Sunghoon just smiled. That soft, maddeningly patient smile, and said, “I think he trusts me.”

Trusts him.

Like Superman sits around rating journalists on a Yelp scale.

You stare across the bullpen now, watching Sunghoon quietly type something into his terminal. He looks like a librarian. One of those sleepy, gentle ones who offer you a tissue when you cry reading To Kill a Mockingbird. 

And yet somehow, he gets the hero in blue to spill his guts.

You hate it.

You hate that it makes you question your own work. You hate that you keep looking for the cracks in his story, the thing that explains how he’s doing this. You’ve doubled-checked timestamps. Scrubbed security footage. Asked sources. Nothing adds up. 

No one sees Sunghoon talking to Superman.

And yet Sunghoon knows things. Small details. Direct quotes. Reassurances Superman has never given anyone else.

You lean back in your chair and stare at the ceiling. Either Park Sunghoon is the luckiest man in Metropolis… or he’s hiding something.

And you don’t believe in luck.

4 ── You hate that he doesn't talk shit.

Newsrooms run on gossip.

That’s just a fact.

You don’t survive in this field—not in this city—without learning to weaponise information. It’s part of the culture. You swap barbs while the coffee brews, trade snark over late-night edits, hurl critiques and conspiracies like dodgeballs. Everyone does it. It keeps you sane. Keeps you sharp.

Except Sunghoon.

Sunghoon doesn’t talk shit.

At first, you assumed it was a tactic. A kind of passive power play, let everyone else tear each other down while he keeps his hands clean and his halo polished. You even waited for him to crack. Made space for it.

Chaewon stormed past your desks muttering, “If I have to rewrite one more of Franklin’s clickbait trash, I swear to God—” and you turned to Sunghoon, ready.

Nothing.

He just said, “Franklin’s trying to juggle two kids and night school. He’s doing the best he can.”

You blinked. “That’s your take? Really?”

Sunghoon smiled, easy. “Well, it’s not like yelling about it helps.”

You stared at him for a full beat, then scoffed. “Wow. How do you make ‘reasonable’ sound so smug?”

He laughed. Not mocking. Not defensive. Just… amused.

It keeps happening.

Gina in Copy fakes sick twice in one week to go see her boyfriend in Coast City. Nobody buys it. You expect Sunghoon to at least comment. Something gentle, like “Must be nice to have a love life” but he just covers her calls without being asked.

When Jungwon blows a quote in a city council interview, you hear three people mutter about it near the break room. Sunghoon hears too. You watch his eyes flick in that direction, but he doesn’t engage. He just brings Jungwon a coffee the next morning with no explanation.

You don’t get it.

You’ve worked with assholes and saints and everything in between. But there’s always a crack. A vent. A gripe. A single “Jesus Christ, can you believe this guy?” at happy hour.

Sunghoon? He smiles, he listens. He takes the fall for other people's mistakes, and never once asks for anything in return.

It’s not that he’s quiet. He barks. He just doesn’t bite. 

You should hate it. Actually, no, you do hate it.

Because it makes you feel mean. Makes you feel like every time you roll your eyes or mutter something under your breath, you’re the one slinging mud at a guy who just… doesn’t throw it back.

He’s not better than you. That’s what you tell yourself. He’s not better. He’s just boring. But that’s not true, is it?

Because when Carol’s mom lands in the hospital, he’s the one who quietly organizes a grocery drop-off.

When Riki has a meltdown over a typo in the Sunday headline, Sunghoon doesn’t flinch. He just calmly fixes it. Compliments the new intern’s formatting, and reminds Riki to breathe.

When you come in one morning with three hours of sleep and that coil, pre-caffeine snarl already at your lips, he places a black coffee on your desk without saying a word.

You hate how it makes your chest tighten.

You hate that he makes kindness look easy—not loud or performative or fake, just… part of him.

You hate that you’re starting to notice how often his eyes go soft when someone’s having a bad day.

You hate how your shoulders drop just a little when he walks in.

You hate how, for all the ways he frustrates you, he never gives you a real reason to hate him back.

You tap your pen against your notebook and glances at him—across the bullpen, bent over his desk, tie askew, glasses sliding down, that same stupid curl on his forehead. He’s reading something, mouth twitching like he might laugh, and you watch him longer than you mean to.

You shake yourself.

No.

This is just a strategy. Observation. Knowing your competition. It’s not softness. It’s not a crush. It’s not a slow-burn, late-blooming kind of fondness, the kind that sneaks up on you when you’re too tired to fight it.

It’s not.

You just hate that he doesn’t talk shit. That’s all.

5 ── You hate how he remembers everything you say.

You’re not the type of person who expects people to remember things.

You’ve had too many conversations die halfway through a sentence. Too many men nod politely, only to ask you the same question a week later like they never heard your answer the first time. You’ve learned to file your words under ‘for now’—disposable, temporary, forgettable.

Park Sunghoon doesn’t see it that way.

You noticed it during your first lunch break, maybe two weeks in. You’d been ranting—venting, truly—about how every salad in Metropolis comes pre-drenching in some sort of smug artisanal vinaigrette. You weren’t even talking to him. Just muttering to yourself while stabbing a piece of limp kale in the breakroom.

The next day, he passed you a plain turkey sandwich from the deli on 6th and said, “They don’t just dressing unless you ask. Though you might like it.”

You blinked at him

“You remembered that?” You asked, caught off guard.

Sunghoon shrugged with a smile. “You seemed passionate.”

You were half convinced it was a fluke. But it wasn’t.

Because the pattern kept happening.

You mentioned once—once—that your favorite weather is when it rains but the sun’s still out. A week later, during one of those golden, misty drizzles, he caught up to you on the steps and said, “Looks like your kind of day, huh?”

You told him offhandedly that your least favorite movie trope is the girl tripping while running. Three nights later, you passed each other in the hallways after working late, and he asked if you’d seen the new action flick in theaters. “No tripping heroines, I promise.”

You said that once your dad used to call you ‘kid’ and that no one’s used the word since.

He’s never called you that. But you catch him hesitating once. Mid-sentence. Like it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it.

You don’t know how to feel about that.

Because you never asked him to remember. You never wanted him to.

You’ve known people who remember birthdays because Facebook reminds them. Or likes and dislikes so they can use them later. But Sunghoon? He never uses it. He just stores it. Quietly. Thoughtfully. Like your words matter. Like they’re puzzle pieces he’s collecting, not to solve you, but to understand you.

And maybe that’s what bothers you most.

Because no one’s ever tried to understand you.

Not really.

Gotham trained you to guard your secrets with blood. To keep your walls high, your smile sarcastic, your stories brief and impersonal. But Sunghoon listens like he’s trying to paint a picture of you in his head, one brushstroke at a time.

And you despise it.

You hate that it makes you feel seen. 

You hate that it makes you feel real.

You hate that it makes you wonder how much you’ve remembered about him.

You glance at his desk. Same stupid Superman bobblehead he swore he didn’t buy himself. Same chipped I Heart Korea mug. Same pair of extra reading glasses tucked into the drawer, just in case.

You remember that he doesn’t like spicy food. That he uses semicolons like they’re going out of style. That he hums the theme from Star Wars when he’s writing something he’s proud of.

You remember way too much.

So maybe you don’t hate that he remembers everything you say. Maybe you hate that you’ve started doing it too.

6 ── You hate that he looks at you like he sees you.

There’s a kind of look people give you when they think they know who you are.

Back in Gotham, it was always the same—calculating, wary, sometimes impressed. You were the youngest on the crime desk, the loudest in the pitch room, the one with the sharpest elbows and the thinnest armor. People look at you like a problem to solve or a rival to beat.

But that’s not how Sunghoon looks at you. He looks at you like you’re someone. Not a headline. Not a byline. Not the girl from Gotham with a chip on her shoulder and a pen like a scalpel.

Just you.

And it drives you batshit crazy.

Because it’s not just in meetings, when you sneak up and catch his gaze across the table—it’s in the little moments. When you’re half-asleep at your desk and he walks by with a fresh coffee. When you’re biting your tongue in an argument and he gives you a look like he already knows what you want to say. When you laugh—really laugh—and you see him watching like it’s a rare event he doesn’t want to interrupt.

It’s too much. Too soft. Too honest. You don’t want to be known like that. Not by him. Not by anyone.

But he keeps doing it. Like it’s effortless. Like seeing you, the real you, the messy and angry and guarded parts is just what happens when he looks at someone.

And you hate that you notice it. And you hate that some small, quiet part of you never wants him to stop.

7 ── You hate how nervous he makes you feel.

You’re not nervous around people.

You’ve been yelled at by corrupt mayors. Cornered by gang members for writing the wrong names in the right story. You’ve told a Gotham crime boss to spell his name correctly if he wants to be quoted. You know how to stand your ground, spine straight, heart steady.

But Sunghoon makes you so nervous that you might shit your pants.

Not in the usual nervous way—not in the way bad people do. He doesn’t threaten or belittle or hover too close. No, Sunghoon stands a respectful distance away and still somehow manages to get under your skin. He fidgets when you talk. He laughs at your sarcasm. He listens like he’s memorizing you on purpose. 

And lately… you’ve been messing things up.

You dropped your pen the other day. Three times. In one meeting.

You forgot what you were saying mid-sentence when he looked at you—just looked at you—like the whole room had gone quiet except for you.

You called him Sunghoon and it came out soft, almost breathless, and it startled you. Like your mouth knew something your brain just hadn’t caught up with yet.

When you brushed against him near the elevator, shoulder to shoulder, your pulse stuttered. Not fear. Not irritation. Something else. Then it hit you.

You like him.

God, you like him.

You like his stupid glasses and his kind eyes and the way he always holds the door for people even when they don't say thank you. You like the way he scribbles notes in the margins of his reporter’s notebook and the way he lights up when someone says the words human interest. You like that he takes his job seriously without ever acting like he’s the smartest man in the room.

You like that he’s good. You trust him. And that might scare you more than anything else on this planet.

You hate that he makes you nervous, because it means your guard is down. And you never let your guard down. Especially not for someone like him. Especially not when he might possibly, slightly, maybe, feel the same way.

Because if he does.. if he does… you’re not sure what happens now.

8 ── You hate that he's Superman.

You almost died today.

Not in the dramatic, flashing-lights-before-your-eyes kind of way. More like sudden and sharp. One second, you were walking past LexCorp Tower with a coffee in hand. The next, the sky cracked open with a sound like the earth tearing apart, and something enormous. A ship? A drone? It spiraled out of control and straight into the street.

You didn’t scream. Not at first. Your body froze instead, the kind of instinct that Gotham should’ve removed. Get big, get loud. Scare the monster away from you.

But flight or fight invited a friend to the party. Fawn. And she told you not to move a muscle. To get small. Get still. And pray to Jesus of Nazareth that the monster passes.

It didn’t.

It was coming right for you.

And then, just like every headline you’d ever written about him, Superman was there.

He was a blur at first. Then red. Then blue. Then everything stopped. The drone crumpled against the pavement thirty feet away, a crater the size of a bus sinking into the asphalt. Wind whipped around you, debris in your hair, your coffee exploded on the ground. And in the center of it all, standing perfectly fine like the chaos had bent around him on purpose—

Him. 

Superman.

He turned to you, eyes impossibly soft for someone who could tear steel apart with his bare hands. “Are you hurt?”

You nodded dumbly. Maybe you shook your head. You don’t remember. Your voice wasn’t working.

He gave you a smile, the kind that should’ve made you feel safe. It did. But it also unsettled something deep in your chest. Almost like recognition.

He took off again in a gust of air and cape and godlike power, and you stood there shaking, your hands empty.

That night, you sat cross-legged on your couch with the local news running in the background, half-heartedly typing notes for tomorrow’s article. You watched grainy footage of Superman returning a flaming car to the street like it was a paper toy. You watched people cheering, waving, chanting his name.

You knew he was a hero. You knew he’d saved countless lives. But seeing him up close? Feeling the air shift around him, the sheer weight of him?

It rattled you.

And yet, what kept circling in your brain wasn’t just the blur of the cape or the force of the landing. It was his eyes.

The way he looked at you.

Like he knew you. Like he saw you.

And then your fingers stopped moving.

Because you’d seen that look before.

Early this week. At the Daily Planet. In the elevator, when you’d complained about the vending machine eating your dollar. 

Sunghoon had looked at you like that.

You stared at the paused frame on your screen. Superman mid-turn, mid-expression.

You grabbed your phone, opened the gallery. A photo Jungwon had taken at Chaewon’s birthday last month. Sunghoon, standing beside you with that same crooked smile. Same jawline. Same posture.

Your heart sank.

No.

You looked again. 

You zoomed in.

And all at once, every thing—every late arrival, every exclusive quote, every ‘You okay?’ after a tremor, every ‘How did he know?’—every moment fell into place like puzzle pieces you’d been too close to see. 

Park Sunghoon is Superman.

You sat there frozen, blinking at the screen as a sick kind of heat spread through your chest. You hate that he’s Superman.

Not because he’s dangerous. Not because he lied—though God, he did.

You hate it because you were just starting to fall for Sunghoon. Sweet, awkward, late-to-everything Sunghoon. Now you’re not sure where Sunghoon ends and Superman begins.

And worst of all? You’re not sure which one of them you’re in love with.

9 ── You hate how he touches you.

You told yourself it was for the story.

That inviting Sunghoon over to your apartment—late, after deadline, with a six-pack in the fridge and the lights dimmed just enough to feel casual—was a journalistic strategy. You even made a notepad with scribbled questions, highlighted sources in your phone, and pulled up three articles from the Planet’s archive as “references.”

But deep down, you knew exactly what you were doing.

Sunghoon knocked once. Polite. Timid. He always knocked like he didn’t want to disturb you, even when he had to enter the bullpen three minutes before a press conference with ink on his tie. You opened the door and didn’t let yourself look too long at the way his glasses slid down his nose or how the sleeves of his white button-down were rolled to his forearms.

He stepped in, soft-voiced as ever. “You said you needed help with something?”

“An article,” You said, breezy. “About Superman.”

And God, you said his name like a test.

Sunghoon blinked. Just once. Just barely. But you caught it.

You offered him a beer. You talked. You took notes on nothing. And he sat there—not relaxed, exactly, but trying to act like he was. He always had this charming nervousness to him. But now that you knew—knew—it wasn’t nerves. It was restraint. It was a man constantly folding himself into something smaller to pass unnoticed.

You kept waiting for him to lie.

He didn’t.

So you forced his hand.

You said it like it didn’t cost you anything: “You’re Superman.”

Silence. Stillness. The longest pause you’d ever heard.

He didn’t deny it.

He didn’t laugh it off.

He just looked at you.

And it was like the air in the room shifted. Something cracked open between you. Not hostile. Not afraid. Just honest.

“You’ve known?” He asked quietly.

“I figured it out after the LexCorp thing. The way you looked at me.”

He closed his eyes. Like he was trying to protect you from something—or maybe protect himself from what he already knew was coming next.

“I never meant to lie,” He said. “Not to you.”

“But you did,” You replied. “Every day.”

And you should’ve been furious. You should’ve thrown him out. Written the article. Exposed everything. But you didn’t.

Because all you could think about was the way he looked at you in the cratered street. The way he always hovered a second longer when your hands brushed. The way he saw you—really saw you—even before you ever knew who he was.

And the way he touched you now, when he reached across the table to cover your hand with his own—gentle, grounding, warm.

You hated it.

You hated the way the contact burned up your arm and across your chest like he’d set your blood alight. You hated how steady it felt, how calm, how wanted. You hated the way it made you lean in, just slightly, like gravity was tugging you toward him.

“You’re mad,” He said.

“I should be.”

He swallowed. “Are you?”

You looked at him—really looked—and saw all of it. The weight of two lives. The softness behind the cape. The man who brought you coffee when you were hungover. The man who pulled a collapsing building off a school bus.

Park Sunghoon. Superman. Both. All.

And you hated that he made you feel like this. Hated the way his fingers curled around yours like he’d been waiting to do it for months. Hated that your heart was pounding so loud you were afraid he could hear it.

You stood.

He stood too.

You should’ve said something. Pulled back. Cut it off.

But when he stepped forward, eyes locked on yours—when he hesitated, like he needed your permission—and when you didn’t stop him—

His mouth met yours, and the world dropped out.

You hated the way it made you forget every single reason you were supposed to hate him. Hated the way his hands were patient, reverent, like he was memorizing the shape of you. Hated the way you melted into him like you’d done this a thousand times in another life.

You hated the sound you made when he pressed you gently against the wall. Hated the tremble in your breath when his lips found the spot just beneath your jaw. Hated how badly you wanted him—and not just the cape. Not just the secret.

Him.

Sunghoon.

You pulled him closer.

And in that moment, you didn’t hate anything at all.

You didn’t mean for it to go this far. You meant to confront him. To unearth the truth. To hold him accountable. 

But now his hands are at your waist—warm, grounding, familiar—and he’s kissing you like he’s spent decades thinking about it. Like he’s imagined it in quiet mornings between bylines and burning buildings. Like it’s the one indulgence he never allowed himself to have.

Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt. “Tell me to stop,” He breathes against your skin. You don’t. Because you’ve wanted this. Hated how much you’ve wanted this.

Not just tonight. Not just since he walked through your apartment door with that bashful smile and that stupid, careful politeness like he didn’t have a goddamn clue you were about to wreck both of your lives.

No, you’ve wanted this since the second week at the Planet. And you’ve finally got it.

You fist his shirt and push him back against the wall, chest heaving, and when he looks at you with wide eyes and his lips parted, looking so vulnerable in a way that makes your throat ache, something inside of you snaps.

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

His breath stutters. “I didn’t want to—”

You cut him off with your mouth.

And that’s all it takes.

The kiss is desperate. Messy. Teeth knocking, breath uneven. His hands roam over you like he’s been starving for it, like he’s been dreaming about this for years. One palm slides up your back, the other fists in your hair, and you moan against his lips before biting down, just enough to make him groan.

You push him toward the bedroom.

He lets you.

You straddle him the second he hits the bed, pressing your hips down until you feel him twitching beneath his slacks, already hard, already straining. You grind slowly, deliberately, and his head drops back with a strangled sound.

You kiss him again, slower this time. Meaner. Like a punishment. Like retribution for every late arrival, every Superman scoop, every time he looked at you like you hung the fucking moon.

When you break away, you lean down, your mouth brushing his ear. “I hate you.”

His breath catches. His grip on your hips tightens.

“I hate how soft you pretend to be. I had that stupid fucking ‘golly gee’ act like you’re not hiding the most dangerous secret in the world. I hate you.”

“God,” He breathes, almost broken. “Say it again.”

“I hate you, Sunghoon.”

And then his hands are everywhere.

He rolls you over, yanking your shirt off so fast the fabric nearly rips. His mouth crashed to your neck, trailing heat down your collarbone, between your breasts, across your ribs. When he pulls back to look at you, there’s something primal in his gaze. Starved. Worshipful.

“Tell me where you want me,” He rasps.

You lean up on your elbows. “You’re Superman. Figure it out.”

His growl vibrates through your chest before he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed, dragging your pants down your thighs. He doesn’t stop to tease. Doesn’t play coy.

His mouth is on you in seconds.

Hot. Wet. Perfect.

You cry out, hips jerking, but his hands grip your thighs and hold you down, unmovable. His tongue flicks in tight, devastating circles, and then he flattens it. Slow and deliberate, until your eyes roll back in your head.

“Fuck—Sunghoon—”

He moans against you, like the sound of his name falling from your lips is the only thing he’s ever wanted.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. “I hate this. I hate how good you are at this.”

He groans again, deeper, louder. You feel him rutting slightly against the mattress like he’s getting off just from tasting you. The thought makes you whine. It’s almost unfair how good he is at this. Like he’s memorized you.

He finds your clit again, circles it with obscene precision, and you arch off the mattress with a sharp gasp.

“You’re close,” He whispers against you. “I can feel it.”

“I’m going to kill you,” You pant.

“I’ll die happy.”

Your orgasm hits like a wave crashing through you, hot and heavy and blinding, You cry out, sharp and breathless, thighs trembling around his head. Sunghoon doesn’t stop. He licks you through it, soft and reverent. Like he wants to savor every second.

You look down at him, wrecked and panting. “I still hate you,” You manage.

He grins, a real one this time, crooked and infuriatingly gorgeous. “Good,” he says. “Then you’ll hate this even more.”

And just like that, he’s crawling back up your body, slotting himself between your legs, the head of his clothes cock nudging against your soaked entrance.

And he’s still hard. Rock fucking hard.

You blink. “Jesus Christ.”

He pulls his pants and boxers down as his smile widens. “Not quite.”

You punch his arm. He laughs, but the sound dies quickly when he lines himself up and pushes in, slow and smooth, inch by inch. You both groan. You clench around him instinctively, and his jaw locks.

“You feel—fuck. Better than I dreamed.”

“You dreamed about this?”

He leans in, kisses you hard. “Every night.”

You’re still trembling from the first wave when Sunghoon pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide like he;s been holding back an entire storm.

You arch up into his hands, desperate and aching. His lips descend again. This time with hungry insistence, sucking bruises into your skin—neck, collarbone—a map of possession in deep, dark purples. You try to catch your breath but he pins your arms above your head with one hand, the other trailing fire down your ribs, across your stomach.

“Don’t move,” he commands, voice trembling like it’s torture holding himself back.

His mouth covers yours again, hot and insistent, teeth grazing your bottom lip as his fingers move faster inside you. He kisses and sucks at your neck, marking you like he’s carving your name into his skin. 

You shiver, heart pounding as he works your shirt off you, fingertips trailing across your ribs once more. He’s relentless, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re gasping, trembling under the weight of his touch. You’re still sensitive from the last orgasm he coaxed out of you, be he’s not done. Not even close.

His hands tremble as he touches you. The way he looks at you now—wide eyes, desperate, like he’s about to break—makes something wild flare inside you.

He’s not the untouchable hero tonight. He’s yours. And you own every inch of him.

You kiss him hard, biting his lower lip as you maneuver the both of you until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. His skin is impossibly warm under your touch, slick with heat and desire.

Sunghoon’s breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly. He presses himself against you, hands tangled in your hair, holding you close like he’s afraid to let go.

You take control, guiding him down until he’s lying back, breathless and vulnerable. You straddle him, sliding your heat against his ache. His hands cup your hips, trembling, and he whimpers softly as you begin to move.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice thick with need. “So good… God, you’re so good…”

His eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open, exposing raw, desperate pleasure. He’s never been like this, the strong and invincible Superman, not when it comes to you.

He whines when you shift, when you grind, when you tease that sensitive spot that makes him arch into you, hips jerking uncontrollably. Then you sink down onto him.

“Please, don’t stop,” He begs, voice breathy and broken. 

Your hands slide over his chest, feeling the rapid thumb of his heart beneath your palms. He’s lost, undone, and it’s yours to keep. You ride him slowly, building, driving him higher, feeling every shiver and gasp as his pleasure months.

He whimpers your name over and over, voice cracked and raw. “More.” He begs, fingers clutching your hips tighter. You give it to him.

Faster now. Harder. The room fills with the sound of skin sliding, ragged breaths, and his desperate, needy whimpers. When he comes, it’s shuddering and loud—hips bucking wildly, mouth open in a ragged cry. 

You collapse against him, breathless, hearts pounding together in a thunderous rhythm. He pulls you close, lips brushing your hair, whispering your name like a prayer. And you hate that you don’t want this to end.

10 ── You hate that you love him.

You told yourself it wasn’t possible.

Not with Park Sunghoon—Mr. Always-Late, Mr. Aw‑Shucks, Mr. Exclusive‑Scoop Superman. The man who made you roll your eyes before you even opened his email. The man who kept secrets that could’ve rewritten your career. The man you once swore you'd never let in.

And now you’re waking up tangled in his arms, back pressed against his chest, his breath warm against your neck. He’s asleep—still shirtless, still soft beneath the weighted duvet like he’s the one who needs comfort, not the other way around. Your mind whips through all the reasons you shouldn’t feel this calm. This safe. This full.

You hate him.

You hate how he made you laugh at that stupid coffee joke you said while complaining about the crime desk. You hate how he trails kisses along your eyelids when you’re half-awake just to check if you're really real. You hate that he’s Superman—because knowing he could see the world in one blink, yet he chooses to stay here, beside you… it almost hurts.

You roll over carefully and catch his gaze.

He blinks. “Morning.” His voice is rough, like he’s just been dragged out of a dream you wish you were in too.

You raise an eyebrow. “Morning? You know you’re not even supposed to exist before 8, right?”

He grins softly, stretching, then wraps an arm around you again. “I got a day off,” He says. “Superman’s on vacation.”

Your lips twitch. “Vacation. That’s rich.”

He chuckles into your shoulder. “So you don’t mind.”

You scoot back enough to face him. “I mind that you’re gorgeous at 7 a.m. and I can't even hate you for it.”

He quirks his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, it’s fine.” You tap the bridge of his nose with a finger. “Let the world survive without Superman for one day. Let me hate you slightly less.”

He laughs, and it’s the softest thing in the room. Your chest tightens. You’ve hated him for a lot of things—his lateness, his lies, his speed-of-light heroism—but none of it compares to the strange ache of joy when he smiles at you this way.

“We should get breakfast,” He says, voice low like he’s testing gravity. “I know this place downtown that has killer cinnamon rolls.”

You sit up. Hair messy, pajamas rumpled. You cross your arms. “I hate cinnamon rolls.”

He scowls in mock horror. “No real human hates cinnamon rolls.” Then softer: “Fine. We’ll go anywhere you like.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ve lived decades off burnt coffee and reuse foam. I don’t crave anything sweet.”

He’s thoughtful for just a beat. “Okay. Black coffee and stale bagels it is.”

A grin tugs at your lips. It’s so utterly him to tease. So… effortless. You're flooded with old habits—cynicism, sarcasm—and they feel braver than you thought.

But then his thumb brushes gently over your hand. And underneath the banter you suddenly realize how loud your heart is.

You clear your throat. “But seriously—I still hate you.” You lie.

He stills beside you. A small smile covers his face.Heartbeat thunders under his palm. “You know,” he says quietly, voice cracking just a little, “I hate how worried I get when you pull investigative duty alone.”

Your gut clenches. “You’ll fly here if anything happens.”

He nods. “In five seconds.”

You stare at him. Really stare. This is not Superman breathing next to you—this is Sunghoon. Vulnerable. Human. Loving.

In that moment, all the hate evaporates.

“We’re a mess,” You laugh softly, looking away.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Best mess I’ve ever been in.”

He kisses your temple lightly. Tender. Long. Enough that you’ve lost count of everything you should hate about him.

And you hate that this moment isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning.

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