ENHABLR AWARDS

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Please, Please, Please | P.JS

criminal!jay x good girl!reader

warnings: angst, slight fluff, smut (mdni), multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral (m&f rec.), multiple orgasms, fingering, car sex, cliffside bj, white dragon, slightly toxic!jay at the beginning, possessive, crime (obvs), mentions of robbery, theft, guns, money laundering, violence, blood, overall criminal behaviour from multiple parties, tough love, confrontation, touch her and you'll die, anything else lmk!

w.c: 34k (sorry)

synopsis: synopsis: visiting your tax fraudulent dad in prison and nothing was new, except the boy being carted in to the police station in cuffs. when you follow your connection on a reckless whim, it opens you up to a world filled with crime, love, and realisations about who you are.

a/n: hi! this was heavily anticipated and i went back and forth on this for a long time regarding making it a series or keeping it a one shot. In the end, i decided to make it just one thing. i really do hope you like it, i tried to set the pace as best i could with the little wordcount blr will give me so i am praying it's okay! anyway, enjoy! as always, reblogs, comments, etc etc are all appreciated and loved <3

“Now be a good girl for me, Y/N,” your dad gushes, his eyes tired and hand placed against the glass. He looks like half the man he was before stepping into this place.

The greyness of the prison seems to leech the colour from everything around it, leaving only the stark contrasts of shadows and light, along with his navy and white uniform. The fluorescent lights inside cast a sickly pallor on your father's face, accentuating the lines of worry and regret etched into his once confident features.

He was a self-made man, once the toast of the town, known for his business acumen and seemingly Midas touch. But behind the facade of success, he had been entangled in a web of deceit. It all began with a seemingly harmless decision to bend the rules - just a little. He had justified it to himself as a necessary measure, a way to keep the business afloat during tough times. It was just a bit of creative accounting, he had thought. But what started as a small indiscretion soon snowballed into a full-blown scheme of tax evasion.

For years, he had hidden his tracks well, moving money through a labyrinth of offshore accounts, shell companies, and falsified records. His lifestyle had grown ever more lavish, the fruits of his ill-gotten gains displayed in a sprawling mansion, luxury cars, and vacations to exotic locales. Yet, the more he accumulated, the more paranoid he became, always looking over his shoulder, fearing the day when his carefully constructed house of cards would come crashing down.

And crash it did. An anonymous tip-off to HMRC triggered an investigation that swiftly unravelled the elaborate fraud. The evidence was damning – millions of pounds in unpaid tax, laundered funds, and fraudulent claims. The trial was short and sharp, the verdict inevitable. The judge's gavel fell with finality, marking the end of his freedom and the start of his journey behind bars.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you view it, he only got five years in prison which is unheard of for someone who committed such a lavish crime with lots of money involved. So far, he has served four and a bit out of five years and is set to come home in 6 months.

However, that freedom is still a while away, and the only way you can see him now is through this thick glass panel, speaking to him through a telephone. The visitation room is grim and impersonal, with rows of metal chairs bolted to the floor, and a cacophony of muffled conversations echoing off the hard surfaces. The phone is cold in your hand, a lifeline to the man who once seemed invincible.

Your dad's prison uniform hangs loosely on his frame, the drab, coarse fabric a far cry from the tailored suits he used to wear. He shifts uncomfortably on the small stool, the shackles around his wrists clinking softly with every movement. Every visit you have with your dad, it’s always the same jargon; “Be a good girl”, “Stay out of trouble”, or, “Don’t be bad like your dad.” It’s always a useless reminder because, for 20 years of your life, you have never once gotten into bother.

From a young age, you have been the epitome of a model child. You always listen to your parents, excel in school, and never once give them cause for worry. Your teachers often remarked on your diligence and kindness, always quick to help a struggling classmate or volunteer for a school project. While other kids might have dabbled in teenage rebellion, you stayed focused, driven by an internal compass that always pointed towards doing the right thing.

You are just so scared of disappointing your father.

Even at University, you stay away from parties and stay focused on keeping your head straight, making friends with people of similar character to you - if they even are still your friends. Most of them dipped on you once your father got convicted, not wishing to be associated with a criminal’s daughter, or more importantly, a girl with no money.

Little did they know that you were very much still wealthy thanks to your dad’s extra-sneaky antics.

Now, sitting across from your father in the sterile confines of the prison, you feel a pang of sorrow mixed with frustration. His reminders to stay out of trouble feel almost insulting, a stark contrast to the reality of your life. You have always been the one to shoulder responsibilities, to pick up the pieces and move forward.

Sometimes, you wish you could just do something out of character, something others would deem reckless.

“Dad, I’ve never been in trouble,” you remind him gently, trying to hide the sting of your words. “I’ve always been a good girl, remember?” To a fault, sometimes.

He sighs, the weight of his guilt evident in his tired eyes. “I know, Y/N. I just…I worry about you. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

“You don’t have to worry,” you say firmly. “I’m not you. You made it perfectly clear the path I need to be on.”

Your words sting into his chest, but his face never shows it. You’re right anyway, you have always lived up to his impossible expectations. Instead, he nods and relents, dropping the subject altogether. Just in time, too, because the guard quickly steps in to wrap up the visit.

“Time’s up,” the guard announces, his tone brisk and indifferent.

You both hesitate for a moment, savouring the last few seconds before the separation. “I love you, Dad,” you say, your voice soft but resolute.

“I love you too, Y/N. Be strong,” he replies, his hand still pressed against the glass.

With a final nod, you place the phone back on the hook and stand up, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you as you walk away. The sound of the door buzzing open and then locking behind you is a harsh reminder of the reality you both face.

Stepping out of the visiting room, a tumult of emotions surges within you - sadness, frustration, and a lingering sense of helplessness. Each step feels heavy, as if the burdens of your father's past are pressing down on your shoulders. The overhead lights in the corridor cast a stark, cold glow, reflecting off the polished linoleum floor and intensifying the sterile atmosphere of the prison. You hate it here, trying to avoid the place as much as possible, only visiting your dad maybe once every five months.

It’s not that you don’t love him but this place isn’t built for someone like you.

As you navigate the maze of hallways to head to the exit, a sudden commotion draws your attention. Two guards are escorting a man into the facility, his wrists bound behind his back with handcuffs. He walks with a defiant swagger, despite the firm grips on his arms. His black slacks and tight-fitted black polo shirt cling to his muscular frame, giving him an air of unrefined power. His hair, meticulously gelled back, now shows signs of disarray from the rough handling, with a few rebellious strands falling across his forehead.

"Fucking calm down, I'm walking with you," he growls, his voice dripping with sarcasm and defiance. The deep timbre of his words reverberates through the corridor, causing a ripple of tension among the guards and onlookers.

You pause, momentarily taken aback by the scene unfolding before you. The man's audacity and the raw edge in his voice contrast sharply with the controlled environment of the prison, sparking an unexpected intrigue. Certain prisoners cause scenes, but never have you seen it up close, only hearing about it through the words of your father.

As the guards march him up the corridor, his dark eyes lock onto yours for a brief moment. His face is strikingly beautiful - dark eyebrows framing his symmetrical face and dangerous eyes that seem to pierce right through you. He looks more like a model than a felon, and the incongruity of his appearance in this setting sends a jolt through your system.

His gaze trails down your body as he gets closer to you, slow and deliberate, igniting a rush of heat that spreads from your cheeks to your core. His eyes linger on your curves, and you notice the way he licks his lips, a predatory smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The intensity of his attention makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you in this stark, fluorescent-lit hallway.

“Hey, darlin’, how’s it going?” he asks as he passes, his tone nonchalant but menacing, the kind of menacing that makes your pulse quicken and your skin tingle.

“Move along,” one of the guards snaps, shoving him forward. But even as they push him into a room, he cranes his neck to keep you in his sight for as long as possible. His eyes burn with defiance and amusement, and he smirks, the expression filled with a dangerous charm that leaves you momentarily breathless.

The door slams shut behind him, and the spell is broken. You’re left standing in the corridor, your heart racing and your mind reeling from the unexpected encounter. The raw magnetism of his presence lingers in the air, intertwining with the myriad of emotions already churning within you.

“Ma’am, please come this way,” a guard gestures for you to step through the gated door. Numbly, you follow his direction, your mind still preoccupied with the intensity of those dark eyes.

You step through the gate, hearing the metallic clink as it locks behind you. Making your way to the front desk, you feel a strange mix of adrenaline and bewilderment coursing through you. You remove your visitor’s badge and place it on the desk, your fingers lingering on the smooth plastic for a moment.

“Who was that?” you ask, trying to sound casual, though your voice betrays a hint of the curiosity you feel.

The guard behind the desk, a burly man with a no-nonsense demeanour, looks up from his paperwork. “Park Jongseong,” he replies, his tone matter-of-fact. “He's a series regular here. It's best not to catch his attention; he eats girls like you for dinner.”

You swallow hard, the guard’s words sending a shiver down your spine. “Eats girls like me for dinner?” you repeat, more to yourself than to him, the gravity of the warning sinking in.

“Yeah,” the guard nods, his expression grim. “He’s got a reputation. Charismatic, but dangerous. You don’t want to be on his radar.”

You nod, thanking the guard before turning to leave. The encounter with Park Jongseong, brief as it was, has left a deep impression. You replay the guard’s words in your mind, a cautionary tale that echoes with the reality of the world you’ve just stepped out of.

But you’re so over listening to everyone’s advice, allowing your body to rule your head for a moment. Maybe this is your chance to break free from the shackles of your life and enter a new world of freedom.

Even if it is with someone behind bars.

_____

You sit in the visiting room, the sterile environment starkly contrasting with the elegance of your outfit. You're wearing a pastel blue Versace dress, its delicate fabric clinging to your figure in all the right places, the intricate design showcasing a blend of sophistication and subtle allure. The dress features a fitted bodice with delicate lace details, the skirt flowing gracefully to just above your knees. The soft, cool hue of the dress enhances the warmth of your skin and the high neckline adds an air of modesty.

Your heartbeat feels like a defining accessory, pounding in your chest, a constant reminder of your anticipation. Normally, visiting your father doesn’t elicit such a reaction - your heart maintains a steady rhythm, the meetings imbued with sadness and routine.

But today is different. Today, you aren't here to see your father. You're waiting for the man who shared a fleeting moment with you two weeks ago, the memory of his intense gaze still fresh in your mind.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one amplifying the tension coursing through you. Your eyes keep darting to the door, waiting for it to open and reveal the man whose presence had left such an indelible mark on you. The guards move about their routines, the clinking of keys and distant echoes of conversations creating a backdrop to your restless thoughts.

This is a bad idea, probably your most foolish one, but you had to see him just once more to truly understand the leap your heart performed when you looked at him for the first time. You have never gone against your father’s wishes of staying out of trouble, but this was an itch you couldn’t ignore, the pull towards the felon all too real.

Your emotions are a chaotic cocktail of anticipation, fear, and excitement. The adrenaline rush is almost dizzying, your heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to leave, to not get involved with someone so dangerous, but the other part - the part that felt an inexplicable connection - can’t bear the thought of walking away without understanding what it is about him that draws you in so powerfully.

You glance down at your hands, noticing how they tremble slightly. You clasp them together in your lap, trying to steady yourself. The fabric of your dress feels soft and cool against your skin, a contrast to the heat coursing through your veins. You shift in your seat, trying to calm your racing thoughts, but every small sound in the room heightens your awareness, keeping you on edge.

As each second drags on, the waiting becomes almost unbearable. Doubts creep in - what if he doesn’t remember you? What if this was all just a meaningless encounter for him? But then you recall the intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, so why wouldn’t he remember you?

You tell yourself that this is more than simply gratifying a passing curiosity; it's about understanding the electrifying connection you felt. It's about breaking free, even if only for a moment, from the bounds of your usual, routine existence.

Your father’s voice echoes in your mind, warning you about the dangers of straying from the straight and narrow path. You’ve always been the good girl, the one who follows the rules, but something about Park Jongseong makes you want to throw caution to the wind. There’s a thrilling allure in the forbidden, in stepping outside your comfort zone to explore the unknown.

When the buzzer sounds around the room, you jump slightly even though you have heard that klaxon indicating the unlocking of the door numerous times over the years. But this isn’t a polite chit-chat with your dad; this is a meeting with a man whose crimes you don't know the extent of, nor how dangerous he truly is, all because you got fanny flutters.

The prisoners filter through, each one going to their respective visitors with longing and hurried speed. Then, Jongseong waltzes in, his hands cuffed in front of him. His navy, ill-fitted trousers, paired with a tight white v-neck that showcases just enough of his chest to let your imagination run wild and non-styled hair give him a dishevelled yet irresistibly handsome appearance. His dark eyes scan the room, exuding a sense of confidence and dominance.

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs over as you try to compose yourself and stop tears from escaping down your legs. Prison boys have never done anything for you, but Jongseong is on another level of attraction.

The room feels hotter, the air thicker, as your anxiety spikes like you’re playing a brutal game of emotional volleyball and you are always on the losing side. Jongseong whispers something to the guard beside him, his voice low and smooth but indecipherable. The guard glances your way, then points directly at you, making your heart race even faster, like you’re suddenly under the spotlight of an interrogation room.

Jongseong’s eyes land on you, and a smug smile spreads across his face. There's a flicker of surprise and confusion flashing across his features, but it quickly vanishes, replaced by that same predatory gleam you remember. He strides over to you with a casual arrogance, his every movement exuding confidence.

As he reaches the booth, he throws himself into the seat opposite you, the long chain connecting his hands and feet skate along the floor. He leans back, his eyes never leaving yours, the cuffs around his wrists clinking softly with the movement. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if the rest of the room has faded away, leaving just the two of you in this charged, electric moment.

Reaching for the phone, he places it against his ear and waits for you, chewing his gum leisurely, his eyebrows raised in an expectant arch. Your body remains still, paralysed by the magnetism of his presence, his pupils like black holes, sucking you into his hold. For a few beats of your heart, you can’t move, his gaze pinning you in place with an almost hypnotic intensity.

Finally, you gather the courage to lift the receiver, your hand trembling slightly as you bring it to your ear. The action feels monumental, the weight of the phone a tangible connection between you and the enigmatic man before you. As soon as you do, Jongseong smirks, leaning his elbows casually on the ledge behind the glass panel.

“Now who are you?” he inquires, devouring your appearance with trailing glances.

“...My name is Y/N,” you reply so softly he almost doesn’t catch it coming through the receiver.

"Well, Y/N, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He drawls, his voice a low, lazy murmur tinged with amusement. His eyes gleam with a mix of curiosity and wickedness, and the leer never leaves his face.

You remain silent, the words caught in your throat as you grapple with the swirl of emotions and thoughts racing through your mind. His half grin widens and he tilts his head slightly, still chewing his gum with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Okay, let me rephrase,” he says, his tone shifting to a mockingly thoughtful one. “What is a little lamb like you, requesting to see a big bad wolf like me for? Do we know each other?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and charged, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies your reaction. You can feel the pulse of your heartbeat in your ears, a relentless drum that amplifies the tension between you. His words, laced with a blend of sarcasm and genuine intrigue, challenge you to respond and also hurt your chest a smidge. You have been thinking about this man who you saw for a maximum of 20 seconds for the past fortnight, dreaming about him and finding ways to get a visitor’s badge to see him and you probably haven’t passed his mind once.

Taking a deep breath, you find your voice, albeit shaky. “No…we don’t know one another,” you admit, suddenly realising the insanity of this whole ordeal. You begin to bite your lip and inwardly curse yourself for being so reckless.

“Then why are you here? ... Fuck, are you the lawyer they keep trying to pounce on me?” The sudden defensiveness in his words gets your attention, the sharpness of his voice creating a tremble in your legs. He is slowly putting his guard up the more he looks over your expensive outfit, drawing conclusions about you in his mind as he mistakes you for someone he would rather jab himself in the eye than see.

Quickly, your eyes widen, and you shake your hand up in defence. “No, no, no. I’m not a lawyer,” you explain, rushing the words out of your mouth to halt the wall he is placing between you. “I just-I want to get to know you.”

He pauses, the tension in his posture easing slightly, but his eyes remain wary. “Get to know me?” he repeats, his tone conveying scepticism and enlivened curiosity. “And why is that, darlin’?”

You swallow hard, your heart still racing and now paired with an uncomfortableness in your underwear as he calls you the endearing nickname, his accent filtering through your ears like your favourite song. “I don’t know,” you confess, looking down at your lap.

It’s pathetic, you know it, but you don’t know why. Well, you know you had to see him because your brain is insufferable and will not let you forget anything of the man’s existence, but that is all the reason you have come to see him, all it took for you to want to delve into his life. If you told him that, he would either see you as pathetic or easy prey.

“You don’t know?” he echoes back to you with a laugh, his body fully unguarded once again. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. It is at this moment that the penny drops as to who you are, his finger starting to wag as he leans back in the chair with an elated beam on his face.

“You were here when they carted me in.” The fact sits between you as it kisses a blush over your face in embarrassment, his realisation of your identity now suddenly making you wish that the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Did you like what you saw that much, you just had to come see it up close?”

Jongseong’s eyes glint with amusement, the smugness radiating off him like heat waves off asphalt. He leans back further, making himself comfortable, his chains clinking softly against the chair. His body language oozes confidence, the kind that borders on arrogance, and his grin stretches wide, revealing perfectly aligned teeth that contrast heavily with the dark intensity of his gaze.

“Look at you, all flustered,” he teases, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “I must’ve made quite an impression, huh?”

Your mind races, searching for an answer that feels as elusive as he is. He chuckles softly, the sound rich and full, vibrating through the phone line and into your very core. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, his tone almost gentle now. “Your eyes tell me everything I need to know.”

His self-belief is unshakable, a fortress built on years of navigating the rough waters of his life. The smugness in his manner is not just arrogance but a well-honed weapon, a way to keep people at bay while drawing them in. He knows the power he holds, and he wields it with a finesse that leaves you both disarmed and intrigued.

“Okay,” he leans forward again, his face so close to the glass panel that you wish it would disappear, allowing you to admire his features without the glare from the overhead lights as they dance annoyingly on the shield. “Let me tell you a few things about me. My name is Park Jongseong, although you already know that, don't you, darlin’?”

He pauses, his gaze lingering on you with a disconcerting intensity as you shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. How else could you have possibly arranged a visit with him? The question flashes across his face, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After all, as far as he knew, only family could visit him and fuck knows where they are. So how did you manage to worm your way in?

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. He nods knowingly before continuing. "I'm 22, been in and out of here about four times. I love romantic walks on the beach, and before you ask, it was car theft." The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and trepidation. His casual confession answers most of your unspoken questions, including the big one: why he was here. The revelation that he wasn’t in for something more sinister like murder eases some of your apprehension. Your heartbeat steadies and you feel a strange sense of relief mixed with the undeniable pull towards him.

The glass between you seems to distort, creating a shimmering mirage. Every word, every glance is charged with electricity. It's reckless, dangerous, but the allure is intoxicating. He studies you, his eyes drinking in your flushed cheeks and trembling lips. Leaning closer, he whispers into the phone, his voice a husky caress, "You're fucking beautiful. I could eat you alive."

The words are a cold reminder of the guard's chilling warning. Yet, instead of fear, you feel a thrill of defiance. Before you can stop yourself, you whisper back, "Why don't you?"

Surprised by your own boldness, you feel your face heat up even more. Jongseong’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of astonishment crossing his features before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “You’d like that, huh?” he asks cheekily, poking his tongue to his cheek.

He spots the cross hanging around your neck and shakes his head in disbelief. “Darlin’, you’re a good girl, I can tell. So why the fuck are you trying to play with me?”

His question hangs in the air, challenging you. You can feel his eyes boring into you, waiting for an answer. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the unexpected boldness that had surged through you moments ago, leaves you speechless for a second.

"I..." you begin, your voice trembling slightly. "I don't know. Maybe because for once, I want to do something reckless. Something just for me."

He chuckles a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through the phone. "Oh, so you’re saying I’m just for you? That I can give you what you crave?” His voice is dripping in seduction and you are pretty sure you’re dripping on the stool you’re uncomfortably shifting on. “You’re playing with fire, little lamb. You sure you can handle the heat?"

The challenge in his tone ignites something inside you. You nod slowly, eyes locking onto his. "I'm not afraid of being burnt." You are, in fact, scared of a little heat but the thumping of your heart and the lightness of your head right now is a feeling you want to experience again and again, and you know for certain that the only person in this world that can give you this exhilaration is the criminal in front of you.

Jongseong's eyes hold a captivating potency as he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over the glass. "We'll see about that," he murmurs, a low, dangerous promise. "But be careful what you wish for, darling. Once you step into the fire, there's no turning back." His words hang heavy in the air, a tantalising mix of threat and allure.

Just then, the harsh clang of a metal object against the door shatters the intimate atmosphere. "Visiting time's over!" a guard's voice booms through the room. A wave of disappointment washes over you, a bittersweet pang as the realisation of impending separation hits you hard. Time flew by far too fast and you felt like you didn’t even get to scratch the surface of what you wanted this meeting to be

The playful arrogance in his eyes softens, replaced by a vulnerability you hadn't expected. "Hey," he begins gently, his voice a stark contrast to his usual bravado. "I'm out in three months." The words hang suspended in the air, a promise that ignites a spark of hope within you. “Wait for me, yeah?” he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Despite the softness, there's a flicker of his usual cockiness in his gaze, as if he already knows your answer. “Come on, you know you want to. I’m worth it.”

You nod, your throat too tight to speak. The guard’s voice booms again, and you know you have to go. The brute of a man is already making his way over to Jongseong to escort him back to his cell. Jongseong stands up, still holding the phone, and smiles a mock-innocent grin at you.

“Take care, darlin’,” he says, his voice a soft caress that sends shivers down your spine. “And don’t go fucking around while I’m gone. I’d hate to have to get done for murder.” A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, a reminder of the man he is and that he has made you his own from here on out.

His words are a blend of a promise and a threat, leaving you breathless. The guard finally reaches him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. Jongseong doesn’t resist, but his eyes stay locked on yours until the last possible moment, a smirk playing on his lips.

As the guard leads him away, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - excitement, trepidation, and a strange sense of belonging. The connection between you and Jongseong is undeniable, and the anticipation of what’s to come only heightens the tension.

You hang up the phone and stand, your legs feeling unsteady. As you make your way out of the visiting room, the reality of your decision settles over you. Jongseong has already left an indelible mark on your heart. And as much as he has claimed you, you realise with a surge of confidence that you have claimed him too.

And you’ll patiently wait as long as you have to.

_____

The sun blazes overhead, its subtle heat beating down as you sit on the hood of your car outside the prison gates. Your outfit is casual yet sexy: a form-fitting red tank top with mesh detailing paired with high-waisted denim shorts that accentuate your curves, knowing Jongseong will appreciate the effort. You’ve learned a lot about him over the past three months through your almost daily phone calls. Conversations about life, likes, dislikes, and everything in between have built a connection that transcends the barriers of the prison walls.

The memories of those short but impactful conversations play through your mind as you wait. Jongseong's deep voice details his favourite songs, the foods he craves, and the gossip around the cell blocks. You remember laughing together over his stubborn insistence that dark chocolate is superior to milk and the surprising revelation that he actually does like to walk along the beach and it wasn’t just a sarcastic comment the first day you met him.

There was that one agonising week when you couldn't reach him. The anxiety had eaten at you until you finally learned he'd been thrown into the hole for an outburst with another prisoner. The story came out later: a dispute over the weight bench had escalated until Jongseong had whacked the guy over the head with a dumbbell as a result of testing his patience. It was a reminder of the world he was still entangled in, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is in prison for a crime and that you both aren’t just long-distance lovers.

Seeing him in person had been almost impossible due to the strict visiting rules regarding family members being the only ones who could visit. But you weren’t deterred. With a little persuasion and a few hundred pounds slipped to the right people, you managed one precious visit. The memory of him that day is vivid: a busted lip, a black eye, and a new tattoo of a dagger with a dragon wrapped around it. The sight had sent your pulse racing. Despite the bruises, or perhaps because of them, he had never looked hotter. You’d been tempted to break the glass and pounce on him right then and there.

Although you still have some fear about injecting him into your peaceful life, you can’t deny the happiness you feel when he calls or the flutter in your stomach when he makes a slightly lewd comment describing exactly what he is going to do to you once he gets his hands on you.

You know you’re in for a wild ride in every sense of the word.

Luckily for you, you don’t have to wait too long because, right on time, you hear the gates open with a strained creak and yet, your heartbeats are somehow louder. The door of the gates swings open with a groan, revealing Jongseong. He's wearing the same black polo and fitted black trousers you saw him in that first day, now with an added black duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The sight of him makes your heart quicken and throat close up as anxiety, both good and bad, courses through you. He looks every bit as dangerous and enticing as you remember, his stride strong and purposeful.

The closer he gets to you, the more urgent his steps become. His eyes lock onto yours with an ardour that makes your breath catch. He can’t wait to finally hold you in his arms, to feel your skin touching his. The world around you fades away, leaving only the magnetic pull between you two.

You jump down from the hood of the car, your legs slightly wobbly with excitement and nerves. Jongseong reaches you in a few long steps, chucking his duffle bag to the ground without a second thought. His hands grasp your face, fingers spreading out to cup your cheeks and jaw, his touch both firm and tender. The heat of his palms sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively lean into him, your hands finding purchase on his broad chest.

His pupils blaze with longing and something deeper, more primal. His thumbs brush over your cheekbones as he holds you in place, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence. He can’t quite believe you’re here and that he can finally know what you feel like. The air between you crackles with unspoken desire and the pent-up tension of months just out of reach.

"Fuck. Hi, darlin’," he whispers, mouth slightly open and eyes shaking. Part of him can’t fathom that you waited for him; most girls he fucks with never keep their promises to stay his, too scared to actually tag along in his life, but you did because that’s the kind of good girl you are: forever loyal and faithful.

"Hi, Jongseong," you smile softly, any fear you had now replaced with glee. The way his eyes are drinking you should scare you, the same way they did that day three months ago, but now it makes you feel wanted and desired in a way no other person has ever made you feel.

Call it the growth of character and a desperate need for the man in front of you.

Jongseong's eyes darken as he watches you wet your lips, anticipation crackling in the air between you. His gaze locks onto your mouth, and then suddenly, without giving you a moment to react, his lips crash against yours with a fervent urgency. His hands thread through your hair, fingers tangling as he tugs your head back. The motion elicits a gasp from you, and he takes full advantage, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore and conquer.

The kiss is wild, messy, and breathtaking. His tongue moves against yours with a possessive hunger, claiming every inch as if staking his territory. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mesh of his unique flavour and mint that leaves you dizzy. His lips move with a bruising intensity, sucking and biting, leaving your mouth tingling and swollen.

You moan into the kiss, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, needing something to anchor yourself as the world spins around you. The force of his kiss, the way he devours you, sends a rush of heat straight to your core, making you ache with need. Every brush of his tongue against yours, every pull and nip of his lips, fans the flames of your desire higher and higher.

Jongseong's hands slide from your hair to your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel the hard planes of his chest against your softer curves, the heat of him searing through your clothes. His touch is both rough and tender, a dichotomy that leaves you craving more.

The kiss deepens, growing more frantic and desperate. It's as if he's trying to pour three months of pent-up longing and frustration into this one moment, and you respond with equal fervour. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against you.

Never in your life have you been kissed like this. The rush and excitement tingle all over your body as his large hands dig into your skin, his fingers pressing firmly into your back, grounding you in the intensity of the moment. His tongue strokes against your own in a heated dance, each movement eliciting a new wave of desire that courses through you.

Your ex-boyfriend gave you soft pecks and gentle arm rubs, leaving you wondering if you even wanted to be with him. Those kisses were perfunctory, lacking the fire that now burns between you and Jongseong. This heated exchange, this raw, unbridled passion, makes you understand just how much you can crave a person.

Your own hands roam over his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, ignites a spark that sets your entire being ablaze. You feel like you could drown in this moment, in the intensity of his desire and the way it mirrors your own.

Jongseong breaks the kiss just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both pant heavily. His eyes are filled with a mix of lust and seduction. It makes you want to keep kissing him until your lips fall off, your mouth missing the invasion of his tongue suddenly.

As you go to lean in once again, he pulls back and shakes his head, a cocky smile plastered on his face. Your heart drops for a minute, thinking about how you might be too needy for him, too clingy. It was a constant complaint from your last boyfriend, so that insecurity bubbles up to the surface.

“No, baby,” Jongseong says, his voice low and teasing, his smile widening at your puzzled expression. “Not unless you want me to fuck you in front of the guard back there.”

Your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, embarrassment and excitement mingling to create depth to the shade. You cast a quick glance over your shoulder, spotting the guard lingering a few feet away. Jongseong twists his body to give the officer a final wave, his gesture a clear, arrogant fuck-you to both authority and the system that has confined him. His smirk is one of satisfaction, and it only makes you shiver more, feeling the raw energy that radiates off him.

As the guard’s eyes follow Jongseong’s movement with disapproval and curiosity, Jongseong finally pulls his gaze back to you. His hand moves to grab his duffle bag, lifting it with effortless ease before sliding his arm over your shoulder in a possessive, almost protective manner. The touch of his arm against your skin sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you instinctively lean into his side, savouring the closeness and warmth of his body.

“Come on,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, commanding murmur, suddenly turning slightly serious despite the small smile on his face. “We gotta stop somewhere real quick.”

_____

Stepping out of the car, Jongseong takes your hand and leads you towards a diner. The building has a certain charm despite its rundown appearance. The paint is peeling in places, and the sign flickers intermittently. Only a few patrons occupy the scattered booths inside, which is slightly strange considering it’s the middle of the day and diners like this are typically occupied by teenagers and first dates.

Which is exactly why you are so excited. This is your first real date with Jongseong, and you cannot wait to get to know him on a deeper level. Although you would say you know him pretty well, all those 15-minute-a-day calls have done wonders for learning about each other, but this isn’t time-restricted or monitored by guards; this opens up the opportunity for a pure and unfiltered conversation with him.

Peering up at him, you see his relaxed manner and smile. You will never know what it is like to be locked up, but you can imagine how draining it can be - the kiss of freedom from the air must uplift his spirit.

As you walk into the diner, the chequered floor and the nostalgic aroma of coffee and fried food fill the air. The decor is dated, with vinyl booths and Formica tables, but there's a certain cosiness to it. You expect Jongseong to lead you to a booth so you can have your long-awaited date, but instead, he guides you through the diner's main area, straight towards the kitchen.

You glance around, confused. "Where are we going?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Just some business, then you'll have me all to yourself, alright?" he replies with a wink, giving your knuckles a soft kiss before continuing forward.

You follow him, weaving through the bustling kitchen. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of food on the grill, and the chatter of the chefs create a cacophony of sounds. Jongseong nods and exchanges brief greetings with a few of the cooks, who glance at you curiously before returning to their tasks. One chef, a burly man with a white apron smeared with grease, gives Jongseong a nod of recognition and jerks his head to the door coming into view.

Finally, Jongseong pushes open a heavy metal door at the back of the kitchen, revealing a starkly different environment. The room beyond is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something more acrid. It is filled with brute-looking men, one of them is counting a stack of money with deliberate precision, his thick fingers moving with practised ease, while the others eye Jongseong and you with cold, assessing gazes.

The atmosphere is tense; you feel suffocated, if not by the smoke, then by the glares you are currently receiving. Something tells you that these men and Jongseong are not on the best of terms.

The man counting the money looks up, his eyes narrowing slightly. He has a thick, muscular build, and a scar runs down the side of his face, giving him a permanently grim expression. “Park fucking Jongseong,” he chides, placing the notes down on the table beside him. “Where the fuck did you go?”

“Aw, did you miss me, Bang?” Jongseong fake pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. “I’m touched, really.”

Standing up, Bang towers over the table, his broad shoulders casting an imposing shadow. His eyes, dark and unyielding, bore into Jongseong with a mixture of contempt and curiosity.

Jongseong, however, remains unfazed. His casual demeanour contrasts sharply with the palpable hostility in the room. He releases your hand and takes a step forward, his movements deliberate and confident. “I was in the slammer for a few, you know how it is,” he says coolly, like losing months of his life to prison bars was as casual as forgetting to pick up milk from the shop run. “I’m here for my money.”

Bang scoffs a low, guttural sound that reverberates through the room. “What fucking money? you waltz back in here like I owe you something, is that it?” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging under the strain. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Jongseong’s smile doesn’t waver. “I’ve always had nerve, Bang. And you owe me for the car that put me behind bars.” He glances back at you, his eyes softening for a moment before returning to the hardened stare of his adversary.

You stand rooted to the spot, your heart pounding in your chest. The smoky air feels even thicker now, each breath a struggle. The men shift slightly, their eyes flicking between Jongseong and Bang, anticipating the next move, like they’re awaiting instructions.

You’ve seen scenarios like this play out in movies and even then do you hate the feeling it gives in your stomach, so now watching the movie play out in real life makes you feel a little nauseous because you know this can only end badly.

Bang’s lips curl into a sneer. “You’re demanding I pay you for that piece of shit car? The one with the kicked-in engine? Mate, you’re fucking delusional. That car couldn’t have even paid your pathetic bail.”

“You asked me for that specific car, I delivered, now give me my money.” Jongseong’s calm and cocky aura suddenly shifts to a dangerous one, one you hadn’t quite prepared yourself to see. Of course, you knew this side existed; you don’t survive multiple bouts in prison without developing an edge. But witnessing it firsthand is something else entirely.

His posture changes, shoulders squared and jaw set, exuding a raw, unfiltered intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink around the two men, their confrontation a silent battle of wills. The other men at the table straighten up, sensing the shift in tension, readying themselves to pounce as soon as their boss gives a signal.

This is bad.

Placing your hand on his arm, you draw his focus to you. Your eyes gleam up at him, silently conveying worry. “Jongseong, let’s just leave it, you just got out,” you plead as your head shakes in disapproval. If there was one thing you have learned from the stories Jongseong has told you, it’s that his temper is a short fuse, and with the lock on his jaw, you know he is a few seconds away from exploding.

His eyes soften momentarily as he looks at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to rein in his anger. For a brief moment, it seems like the confrontation is over. But before you can even attempt to lead him out of the room and back to your car, Bang’s voice cuts through the air, dripping with derision. “Yeah, Park, listen to your bitch before I set my men on both of you.”

The words hang in the air, a malicious echo that sends a chill down your spine. Jongseong stops dead in his tracks, his body going rigid. You feel the shift instantly, his muscles tensing under your hand.

The calm exterior he had tried to maintain shatters. Jongseong whirls around, eyes blazing with fury. “What the fuck did you just say?” he snarls, his voice low and dangerous, a stark contrast to the calm, controlled tone he had used before.

Bang smirks, leaning back in his chair, clearly relishing the reaction he’s provoked. “You heard me. I said listen to your slutty side piece before I make sure you both can’t walk again,” he repeats, his voice dripping with contempt. “Did that hit a nerve?”

Before you can react, Jongseong lunges forward, his fist connecting with Bang’s jaw with a sickening thud. The force of the punch sends Bang sprawling to the floor, the chair skidding across the room. The men around you jump to attention, but no one makes a move to intervene, their eyes wide with shock.

“You don’t ever threaten my girl like that,” Jongseong growls, standing over Bang, who is struggling to get up. “Ever.”

You can’t deny the fuzziness in your stomach when he claims you as his girl. The simple slip of the tongue somehow drowns out his outlandish actions. Bang deserved it after all.

Bang wipes a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes blazing with a mix of pain and rage. “You’re gonna regret that, Park,” he spits out, though there's an unmistakable tremor of fear in his voice now. With a snap of his fingers, his men spring into action, advancing toward Jongseong with menacing intent.

Jongseong steps back, his stance shifting into a defensive posture, muscles coiled and ready. “Darlin’, go wait in the car, I’ll be out in a minute,” he murmurs, his gaze locked onto the advancing men. His arm is outstretched to shield you, the veins in his forearm prominent as he tenses.

You hesitate, torn between the urge to stay by his side and the instinct to protect him despite his obvious capability. “But-”

“Be a good girl,” Jongseong’s voice is firm yet gentle, laced with a protective urgency. He meets your gaze with a stern but concerned look that brooks no argument. With a heavy heart and a lump in your throat, you nod reluctantly, stepping back into the kitchen.

Your eyes remain glued to him, a mix of fear and helplessness tightening in your chest. The seconds tick by slowly, each moment feeling like an eternity as Jongseong prepares to face off against men far larger and more intimidating than any security guard or gym bro you’ve ever encountered.

The room’s atmosphere thickens with tension as the men close in on Jongseong. One of them, a burly figure with arms like tree trunks, grabs hold of Jongseong, his grip like iron. Jongseong struggles against the man’s hold, his muscles straining as he fights to break free.

Another of Bang’s men seizes the opportunity, delivering a brutal punch to Jongseong’s midsection. The impact sends a sharp gasp through the air, and you watch in horror as Jongseong’s body lurches from the blow. His face contorts in pain, but he doesn’t give in, still trying to break free from the grip holding him back.

From your vantage point, you can only watch in helpless horror as the fight unfolds. Jongseong’s strength and skill are evident, but the overwhelming numbers and sheer size of his opponents make it daunting. Each punch landed on him seems to resonate with a bone-deep impact, and the grunts and shouts of the men create a chaotic symphony of violence.

The sight of Jongseong, usually so composed and confident, struggling against the odds is almost too much to bear. You want to rush in, to do something, anything to help, but the kitchen's doorway feels like an insurmountable barrier. Your heart races, your breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps as you watch the scene unfold.

Jongseong’s eyes meet yours briefly, a flicker of reassurance in their stormy depths even as he endures another punishing blow. The look he gives you is a silent promise that he will get through this, that he’s fighting not just for himself, but for both of you. He will be damned if any of these men thought for a second that it was acceptable to threaten you or lay a finger on your precious body - especially not since he has just found out how beautifully soft your skin feels on his fingertips, or how perfectly your lips mesh with his own.

With a strained grunt, Jongseong uses his legs to kick out at his assailants, creating a brief moment of respite. His body, still taut from the impacts, is hunched and battered, but his spirit remains unyielding. He turns to face you, his voice a mix of anger and desperation cutting through the cacophony. “Y/N, get the fuck out of here!” he yells, his command urgent and fierce.

Nodding frantically, you stumble back, your breath hitching as you watch Jongseong throw a sharp, decisive punch at the man who had been holding him back. The impact sends the man staggering, giving Jongseong a brief but crucial reprieve. The fight rages on around him, but for a moment, his focus is entirely on you.

You retreat through the kitchen, your mind spinning with fear and helplessness. Your only thought is to get to safety, to ensure Jongseong’s instructions are followed. You burst through the back door and into the parking lot, the air cold against your flushed skin despite the sun still blaring.

Once outside, you hurry to the car, your mind racing. The dim light of the diner’s parking lot does little to ease the anxiety curling in your stomach. You can’t help but worry about Jongseong - about what’s happening inside and whether he’ll come out unscathed.

You lean against the car, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you glance anxiously towards the diner. The minutes stretch on interminably, amplifying the knot of worry in your stomach. The tense stillness seems almost unbearable, and just as the fear of the worst begins to grip you, you see Jongseong’s figure finally emerge through the door.

He strides towards you, each step purposeful but burdened. His face is a canvas of bruises and blood, his eyebrow bleeding in a thin streak that trails down his cheek. The sight of him, battered and raw, sends a shiver of dread through you. You can barely hold back the tears as you rush forward.

“Oh my god, Jongseong-” The words tumble out, laced with a mix of relief and anguish, but they are abruptly cut off as Jongseong’s lips crash onto yours. His kiss is fierce and demanding, a raw burst of emotion that takes you completely by surprise.

His hands are strong and desperate as they frame your face, his touch scorching against your skin. The kiss is so hungry, so primal, that it eclipses the first kiss you shared, which is hard to believe if you weren’t the one on the receiving end. The intensity of it is overwhelming, the force of his need evident in every movement. He pulls you closer, his lips moving with an urgent, almost frantic rhythm.

As he deepens the kiss, his hand trails down from your face to his own throat, his fingers gripping the base of his neck. The gesture is both intimate and possessive, reminding you that he called you his girl and fought on behalf of you. The thoughts add another layer of desire from your end, the protectiveness he already has over you despite only knowing you for a hot minute makes your skin tingle with glee.

Every sensation is amplified - the rough texture of his lips against yours, the heated pulse of his touch, and the faint tremor of excitement in his frame. You can taste the salt of his sweat and the faint metallic tang of blood from his cuts mingling with the warmth of his breath. His other hand moves to your lower back, pulling you tighter against him, his body pressing firmly into yours.

Jongseong had forgotten how much of a thrill he got from fighting, the way seeing the blood splatter - from both his rival and himself - made him feel alive. It had been too long since he had a good kick like this, the prison scraps he would be part of were nothing like this, too weak and pathetic. This is the kind of adrenaline he wanted, one when he didn’t know if he would make it out alive. But he knew he had to, for your sake.

The image of you flashed in his mind as he was pummelling into the men and Bang. The thought of dragging you into this dangerous world gnaws at him, but it’s a burden he’s willing to bear. He can’t imagine asking you to walk away, even though he knows he’s pulling you into a dangerous world with wicked consequences.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath heavy and laboured. The heat in his gaze is unmistakable, an intense blend of desire and desperation. Blood smears across your cheek where his fingers had been, the sight and scent adding something raw to the moment. He never wants to see you hurt, but the blood smudged on your skin makes his blood run thinner with lust.

He gets horny when he is riled up like this, that much is evident by the way he is suddenly pushing you against the car and pressing his growing erection into your lower abdomen. The cold metal of the car against your back is a stark contrast to the heat of his body, a jarring reminder of the reality you're in, yet it only heightens the sensations coursing through you.

Jongseong's lips return to yours, more aggressive and demanding as he tries to consume you entirely. His hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, fingers digging into your skin with a need that borders on feral. The bruises on his knuckles brush against your flesh, a rough reminder of the fight he's just endured for you. His touch is searing, leaving trails of fire in its wake.

A low, guttural groan escapes him as he grinds his hips into yours, the friction sparking a desperate ache deep within you. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could fuse your bodies together.

His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, a plea and a promise all at once. Jongseong responds with a growl, his lips trailing down your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that claim you as his. His hands roam lower, gripping your thighs and lifting you slightly, pressing you harder against the car.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he whispers into your mouth with promise. He means this both figuratively and physically. He is going to lead you down a dark path, and he can’t say he’s even the slightest bit sorry about it.

Without warning, he swings the backseat door open and tosses you in, his strength overwhelming. You barely have time to catch your breath before he's on top of you, the weight of his body pressing you into the seat, his hands moving with a desperate urgency. His lips find yours again, a hungry, demanding kiss that leaves you gasping.

The confined space of the car adds an extra layer of intensity, the heat between you palpable. Jongseong's hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes, his fingers digging into your skin with a need that borders on feral. He breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "I need to taste you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a thrill of anticipation that leaves you trembling. He moves down your body, his lips and hands leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The car's interior feels too small, too hot, as he shifts between your legs, his eyes dark with desire as he looks up at you.

“You okay with this?” he asks, seeking consent. Your body language is enough to tell him that you want this probably as much as he does, but the thing is, he doesn’t know how much of a good girl you are. If no one else got to touch you like this, he would be ecstatic, but it also means you could want to take your time.

There is a flash in his eyes that makes your core pulse and has you nodding without thinking. “Yeah, I want this,” you whisper out, though it sounds like you’re bellowing the words through a megaphone, the desperation in your voice making sure of that.

Kissing along your stomach as his hands undo your shorts, his lips dipping lower as he pulls them off of you. “Has anyone had you before?” The tone of his voice is gritty and hoarse, swallowing his jealousy at even the thought.

Just because he would be fine with it, doesn’t mean he can’t wish to curse any man that had the audacity to think they are worthy of being with you.

Swallowing the forming saliva in your mouth, his dangerous glare into your eyes tells you that perhaps you should lie and say no, that you haven’t had past lovers. But if he caught you lying, you think the repercussions might be worse than whatever will come if you tell him the truth.

“Yes, one.”

“How many times did he have you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“How many times did he put his disgusting, unworthy mouth on you?”

Oh.

You physically shrivel up, feeling small under his intense stare and gripping hands. You can’t actually recall how many times your ex boyfriend went down on you but it can't be more than four times, claiming he didn’t see the point in it when he could just fuck you. Safe to say the sex you had with him was lacklustre.

“Not many,” you manage to whisper, feeling the heat of shame and anger rise in you. The memories of the past, the way you were neglected, seem to pale in comparison to the intensity Jongseong is offering you now. “Three times? Maybe four?”

“Well, which is it? Three or four?” he insists. His fingers dip into the band of your underwear, teasing your skin with a ghosting touch.

“Why? Does it matter?” This was absolutely the wrong follow-up question to ask because Jongseong’s eyes turn black, jaw setting into the same locked position it did earlier.

“So I know how many times I need to make you cum to wash him out of your system,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your underwear, the touch searing and electric against your skin. He pulls them down, tossing them aside with a careless flick of his wrist, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze is almost too much to bear, a raw hunger that leaves you breathless.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart with a possessiveness that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. The heat between your legs is unbearable, the need for his touch almost painful. His breath is hot against your skin as he trails kisses down your inner thigh, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Jongseong’s lips hover just above your centre, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive parts, making you shiver with need. The anticipation is excruciating, every nerve ending screaming for his touch.

“Tell me, how many?” he murmurs, holding back from diving in which is just as painful as it is for you.

“I really…I really don’t remember,” you reply honestly. No matter the number of times your ex-boyfriend was between your legs, he never made you cum anyway so that might have everything to do with the memory lapse.

Something tells you that you will remember exactly how many times Jongseong gets between your legs.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with determination. "Okay, I’ll make it five, just to be sure," he says, his voice rough with need. When his tongue finally makes contact, it’s like an electric shock, pleasure shooting through you in waves.

He works you over with a skill and intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and swirl designed to draw out your pleasure. He knows exactly where to touch, how to lick, to drive you wild. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he devours you, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You arch against him, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could never get enough. His low, satisfied growls vibrate against you, adding another layer of sensation that leaves you trembling.

"Jongseong, please," you gasp, your voice shaky and filled with need. The world narrows down to the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his hands, and the waves of pleasure crashing over you. You can feel yourself spiralling towards the edge, every touch pushing you closer and closer.

Jongseong has a tongue and mouth simply made for eating pussy, and he is showing you just how someone should be licking and slurping at your sensitive area. Not even two minutes have passed and you can already feel the pressure of your orgasm building; a new record for you. Not even when you manage to find some alone time can you make yourself cum this quickly.

His mouth is relentless, tongue flicking and swirling with a precision that has you seeing stars. He alternates between gentle laps and firm, insistent strokes, each movement designed to push you higher and higher. His lips seal around your clit, sucking and releasing in a rhythm that leaves you gasping. The heat of his mouth, the roughness of his tongue, and the sheer determination in his every move send you spiralling towards ecstasy.

When the first orgasm hits, it’s like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Jongseong holds you through it, his mouth never leaving you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re left trembling. His hands grip your hips, anchoring you to the car seat as you ride out the waves of sensation.

But he doesn’t stop. His fingers find their way inside you, curling and stroking with a skill that has you begging for breath. He adds a second finger, then a third, stretching and filling you, making you deliciously overwhelmed. His tongue continues its assault on your clit, harshly flickering in tandem with the movements of his fingers.

“Jongseong, I-” you gasp, trying to form words through the haze of pleasure.

“I know, darlin’,” he growls, his voice vibrating against your skin. “I can feel you. Don’t hold back.”

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot with unerring precision, each stroke sending shivers up your spine. His tongue dances around your clit, alternating between gentle flicks and firm, insistent licks that have you teetering on the edge. The second orgasm comes even faster, your body hypersensitive from the first. It crashes over you, leaving you gasping and moaning his name. Jongseong’s mouth is relentless, his tongue and fingers never stopping, never giving you a moment to catch your breath. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge and then pull you back, prolonging the pleasure until you’re a quivering mess beneath him.

His determination is relentless. He pushes you through the third orgasm with the same intensity, his touch never faltering. He adds another layer to the sensation, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue and fingers continue their work. Each orgasm leaves you more breathless, more spent, until you’re a quakinh mess beneath him, gripping at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from euphoria.

“I need you to scream my name,” he murmurs against your folds, his voice dark and commanding. “I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.”

It is only at that moment you remember that Jongseong is eating you out in a diner car park where anyone can look in the window and see your lewd actions, never mind hear them.

But that doesn’t stop you obeying him.

The thrust of his fingers quickens as your juices begin to fly around in your car and drip down your leather seats, your essence acting like holy water as you bless the car with your backseat serenade. Your hand grips the silver cross around your neck as you curse the Lord's name in vain, the only thing you can worship right now is a criminal’s touch.

“Jjongie,” you mewl out, losing yourself to your lust and heat, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He smirks as you create a nickname in the midst of the pleasure, loving the way it sounds falling from your tongue.

He will only ever let you call him that.

The fourth orgasm builds slowly, the pleasure mounting with every touch, every stroke. Jongseong’s fingers hit that perfect spot over and over again. His tongue dances across your clit as he makes his tongue rigid, each flick sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. You can feel the pressure building, the heat coiling in your belly, until it finally explodes, leaving you shuddering and gasping for breath.

“Jjongie, please,” you beg, your voice hoarse and broken. “I can’t take anymore.”

“Yes, you can,” he insists, his voice rough with desire. “You’re gonna give me one more. Just one more, darlin’.”

He keeps going, his mouth and fingers working together in a symphony of pleasure. The fifth orgasm is the most intense yet, your body extremely susceptible and on edge from the previous ones. He adds a fourth finger, stretching you wide, probably even wider than your ex’s cock ever did, his tongue working your clit with a precision that has you seeing venus. He uses his tongue apply pressure in ways that have you feeling every single nerve ending come alive. The pleasure builds and builds until it finally crashes over you, leaving you a quivering, trembling mess beneath him for the nth time.

When he finally pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with multiple layers of your arousal, he looks at you with a fierce, possessive pride. "There," he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "Now you’re mine. Only mine."

He climbs up your body, his mouth finding yours in a searing kiss that tastes of you. The connection between you is electric, something beautiful. You fight the tiredness as you plaster a smile of happiness and contentment across your face, and he kisses all over your cheeks and lips, creating a line of adoration. His kisses are softer now, each one a tender promise.

As the initial rush of passion subsides, you finally take in the full extent of his injuries. His face is a canvas of bruises and cuts, each mark a testament to the fight he endured. Your fingers move gently, tracing the path of the blood streak on his eyebrow, smoothing over the swollen skin with care. The sight of him beaten like this makes your heart ache.

"Promise me you won't keep doing this?" you ask, your voice tinged with worry and desperation as you wipe the mixture of your slick and saliva from his mouth. Your eyes search his, pleading for an answer, a reassurance that he won’t put himself in harm's way again.

Instead of a verbal response, Jongseong leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss. This one is soft, tender, and lingering. It speaks of unspoken promises and the turbulent emotions between you. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

Although you take the kiss as a sealed promise, you should know better than to trust a criminal.

_____

Walking out of your campus building, you see an unfamiliar car paired with a very familiar man waiting on the sidewalk. Jongseong leans against the sleek monochrome vehicle. He looks as confident and imposing as ever, with his hair gelled in his typical style and a fitted black T-shirt that shows off his tattoos, earning some judgmental glances from your peers.

You wave off your friends, a wide smile spreading across your face. Skipping down the stairs with glee, you bound towards him, unable to contain your excitement. The moment Jongseong spots your figure approaching, the hard stare and scowl he portrays vanish, replaced by an expression of equal joy to yours.

In the past month, you and Jongseong have grown incredibly close. Despite his semi-cold exterior and rough edges, there's a softer side to him that only you get to see. He's protective and loyal, his tough shell cracking open whenever you're around. The little things he does - like texting you as soon as he wakes up, remembering your favourite bands name, plus all the members, or listening to you read him excerpts from the book you divulge in while he works out - reveal a tenderness he rarely shows to anyone else.

Jongseong opens his arms, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist as he catches you effortlessly. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, grounding himself in your presence. The onlookers judge, whispering among themselves, but neither of you cares. Being with each other is all that matters.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes.

He grins, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his face. "Couldn't stay away from my darlin’ too long, could I?" he murmurs, his voice a blend of affection and mischief. "Thought I'd surprise you."

You chuckle, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Well, paint me shocked."

Setting you down gently, he keeps his arms wrapped around your waist, not wanting to let you go just yet. “I thought we could drive out for a bit, I need to visit my bank for a…slight withdrawal,” he explains.

You nod, eyes twinkling. It doesn't matter what the errand is; any time spent with Jongseong feels like an adventure. Over the past month, you've done everything together: hitting the gym, shopping for your dorm kitchen, and running around to the post office to send some letters. Even mundane trips to the bank like this seem exciting when he's by your side.

As you both get into the front seats, you can't help but ask the million-dollar question, "Where did you get this car?"

Jongseong's life outside has been anything but easy; his criminal record makes it difficult for him to secure a steady job. Despite this, he's always trying, often because you push him to stay on the right path. You appreciate his efforts, knowing how much he resists resorting to his old ways. At least, as far as you know.

"Just a banger from one of my mates," he replies nonchalantly, as he starts the engine. "Nothing compared to yours."

"I think it suits you," you say, glancing around the shabby interior. The car is a patchwork of bumps and scratches, with a dashboard that's seen better days and seats that are well-worn and torn in places.

"Because it's battered and dented?" he quips, a teasing note in his voice.

"No," you respond, playfully hitting him on the arm. "Because it has a certain charm about it, if you look past the scrapes and cuts."

A shy, almost boyish grin settles upon Jongseong’s face, very much out of character for him. Considering you’re admitting to seeing past his rugged appearance and guarded heart, even through the guise of the car, he can’t help but appreciate the compliment. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel as he pulls out onto the road.

You settle back into your seat, watching the world pass by outside the window. The car rattles slightly, but it feels like an extension of Jongseong himself - rough around the edges, but with a hidden depth that you can't help but admire.

The journey takes you away from the hustle and bustle of the campus, the road stretching out for miles ahead. The landscape transforms into a picturesque scene painted with warm, golden hues. Sunlight bathes the rolling fields in a soft glow, casting long shadows that dance across the green grass. Farm animals graze contentedly within the sweeping wind, their movements leisurely and peaceful. The serene beauty of the countryside envelops you, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts that often plague your mind.

As the scenery blurs by, you unlock your phone and realise you've been so caught up in sight-seeing that you hadn’t noticed how much time had passed. A slight furrow forms on your brow as you glance at the clock, wondering why on earth you are still driving.

"Your bank branch is really far away, Jongseong," you observe, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

"Yeah," he replies, placing a hand on your exposed leg, his touch warm and reassuring. "I guess it is, huh?"

His tone carries a weird, knowing look on his face, something that makes you sceptical but also intrigued. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes, one that you’ve come to recognise. It’s the look he gets when he’s planning something unexpected. Despite the small sliver of doubt in your mind, you decide not to question him further, choosing trust over anything else.

The road ahead twists and turns, each bend revealing more of the idyllic countryside. Birds soar in the sky, their songs adding a melodic backdrop to your journey. You find yourself relaxing into the seat, the comfort of Jongseong’s presence and the captivating landscape blending together into a perfect moment of tranquillity.

That moment is about to be severely interrupted.

Jongseong takes a sharp turn off the main road, driving down a narrow, gravelly path that leads to a run-down building in the middle of nowhere. The structure of the bank is weary and neglected, its facade chipped and the white stones which make up its exterior are now yellow with a mixture of smoke and years of tear. The windows are grimy, and the door doesn’t shut over as the hinges hold the doors askew. Weeds sprout through the cracks in the pavement, and the entire place exudes a sense of forgotten utility. You wonder who on earth decides to keep money here.

Jongseong pulls the car to a stop and gets out, jogging around to open the door for you. He helps you out with a gentle grip on your hand, his touch a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings.

You notice the tension in his shoulders, his usually composed exterior seems frayed, much like the edges of the black duffle bag he retrieves from the backseat. The bag, reminiscent of the one he had when coming out of prison, is empty save for something weighing it down slightly.

"What's that for?" you inquire, pointing to the duffle that is trapped in his tight grip.

"I'm just going to get a lot of money, that's all," he replies, smiling so innocently that it looks almost devious.

Why wouldn't he just keep it all his money in the bank in the first place? Places don't even usually take cash these days. You internally start to question, unable to suppress the growing unease. He is acting strange and suddenly, your gut isn’t feeling so happy.

Jongseong extends his hand, fingers stretched for you to interlock with his. His grip is firm, reassuring yet compelling. They are so big compared to yours that they practically swallow yours whole. As he starts to walk away, you can’t help but notice he isn’t locking the car. You know no one is around, but considering he used to steal cars for a living, you think he would know the dangers of leaving it out in the open like this.

Regardless of your apprehension, you follow him, the gravel crunching under your feet as you approach the run-down bank. Jongseong’s pace quickens, his body language a mix of urgency and confidence.

As you step inside, the air is stale, carrying the scent of mildew and old paper. The interior is dimly lit, dust particles dancing in the beams of sunlight. Surprisingly, there are people scattered in the foyer: an older couple who have to be in their late sixties and a man who exudes zero confidence, his pale complexion and silver-rimmed glasses, paired with his shrivelled frame.

The worst thing the man does is look at you for a second longer than Jongseong would like. Cracking his neck, Jongseong pulls you closer to him as he stares the man down, giving him a warning shot. Quickly, there are no eyes on you.

Jongseong is always like this, silently threatening any man who even dares to glance at you. One time, you were at the supermarket, innocently buying a bottle of wine and some Sensations chilli and lime crisps, when the clerk had the audacity to speak to you - it was just to ask if you needed help, that was too many words according to Jongseong. He had given the clerk a harsh look, his jaw clenched tightly as he pulled you closer, ensuring the man understood his silent message. The poor guy had paled, quickly ringing up your items without another word.

You glance around the run-down bank, taking in the cracked tiles and peeling wallpaper. The entire place feels like it’s on the verge of collapse. As you watch Jongseong, you notice him checking the duffle bag a few times, his eyes scanning the room with a sharp intensity. Something about his demeanour makes your stomach twist with unease.

"Jongseong, what are we actually doing here?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing anxiety.

"Darlin', I'm getting money, why else would we be here?" he laughs as if you’ve asked the dumbest question he has ever heard. His tone is light, but his eyes remain hard, focused.

You bite your lip, glancing around the room once more. The older couple is speaking softly to each other, their attention nowhere near you. The timid man with glasses is fiddling with his phone, his hands trembling slightly. Despite the seemingly mundane scene, your gut is yelling at you that something is terribly wrong and you think you know what it is.

"How are you getting the money?" you ask, the words catching in your throat. You’re scared to even pose the question due to the answer you might receive.

Jongseong doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances at you, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he turns his attention back to the bag. The silence stretches uncomfortably, and you can feel the tension in the air growing thicker.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the realisation dawning on you. “Jongseong, please, tell me we’re not here to-”

“Next,” the woman calls in front of you, breaking your chain of thought.

Jongseong gently unravels your intertwined hands and steps forward to the desk. The woman behind the counter looks up with a bored and disinterested expression, her fingers tapping impatiently on the worn-out surface.

“What can I help you with today?” she asks, her tone flat and mechanical.

Jongseong smiles brightly, tilting his head slightly as he leans closer. “I need you to put all the money in the bag,” he says, his voice smooth and sweet.

The woman furrows her brow in confusion, her mouth opening to question him, but the words die in her throat as Jongseong smoothly pulls a gun from the duffle bag and presses it to her forehead. His smile never falters, remaining charming and innocent, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

You feel your stomach drop, a cold wave of fear washing over you. Your hands tremble, and your breath catches in your throat. The world around you seems to blur, the edges of your vision darkening as panic sets in. You can hardly believe what’s happening. This isn’t the Jongseong you know, the one who holds you gently and kisses you tenderly. This is a side of him you’ve never seen, a side that terrifies you.

“Jongseong,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the rushing blood in your ears.

He doesn’t look at you, his focus entirely on the woman in front of him. With a calm and steady hand, he clicks the safety off the gun. “10s and 20s in the bag, love. Quickly.”

The woman’s eyes widen in fear, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she begins to gather the bills. The crisp rustling of paper fills the charged silence, punctuated only by the faint hum of the bank’s outdated air conditioning. Her movements are jerky and hurried, every action underscored by the mounting tension in the room. Her terrified gaze flits nervously between Jongseong and the duffle bag, reflecting the same panic you feel surging within you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice another bank worker, a woman in her late forties with a spiky haircut fit to rival Shirley Carter from Eastenders, sliding her hand toward the hidden panic button beneath the desk. Jongseong’s sharp eyes catch the movement instantly. With a swift, fluid motion, he pivots the gun’s direction, the barrel now pointed at the second worker. “Don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice cutting through the air like a razor blade.

The woman’s face drains of colour, her eyes widening in terror as she freezes mid-reach. Her fingers twitch nervously, the hand hovering inches from the button. You can see the palpable fear in her expression as her face goes slack, slowly withdrawing her hand to ensure her own safety, not daring to provoke Jongseong’s ire.

Turning back to you for a moment, Jongseong makes eye contact with you, winking in joy as if you are equally having as much fun as he is.

And the funny thing is, he can see it inside of you. Behind that fear, is a flash of thrill that even you haven’t registered. It’s something he can identify because it is the exact same look he has in his orbs when he does something that spikes his adrenaline. This is exactly why you came to him that day and the exact reason he has kept you by his side.

You’re cut from the same cloth, even if sewn to different clothes.

As the woman finishes stuffing the bills into the bag, her hands moving with a frantic speed, Jongseong maintains his disarming smile, but the menace in his eyes betrays his calm demeanour. The bag grows heavy with the weight of the cash, the rustling paper now almost rhythmic, a morbid symphony underscoring the gravity of the situation.

When the woman finally slides the bulging duffle bag across the counter, her face pale and stricken, Jongseong’s fingers close around the handle with a sense of finality. He casts one last wary glance around the bank, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a reassuring nod that feels more like a promise of survival than comfort.

“Thanks for the service, sweetheart. Really, it has been class. I’ll write you a good Yelp review, for sure,” Jongseong's voice drips with arrogance and sarcasm, an unsettling calm underlying his criminal actions. He turns to you, his eyes intense yet strangely affectionate. “Let’s go, darlin’.”

With the duffle bag in hand, he leads you towards the exit, his grip on your wrist firm yet unyielding. Your legs feel like lead as you follow him, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty space. You glance back at the bank workers, their faces a portrait of fear and confusion, and you can't shake the crushing sense of guilt that weighs on your heart. Yet, there is a strange feeling of exhilaration that beats in your chest, a rush you’ve never felt before.

The two of you step back into the bleak daylight, and Jongseong’s car waits in the same spot. Now leaving it unlocked makes sense; you need to make a quick getaway. He opens the door for you with an almost gentlemanly gesture, though his eyes are still sharp, scanning the surroundings.

You both jump into the car, the doors slamming shut simultaneously. Jongseong hits the gas, the car lurching forward with a screech of tires. The engine roars to life as he maneuvers onto the road, the world outside blurring into a frenetic swirl of colours and shapes. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, adrenaline flooding your system. It's the closest to an existential crisis you’ve ever come, the reality of what just happened clashing violently with the surreal rush of it all.

Jongseong wears a shit-eating grin, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous glee as he speeds down the highway. He runs a hand through his hair, the strands falling back into place messily. Suddenly, he slams his palm on the steering wheel a few times in sheer excitement, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “We fucking did it!” he exclaims, his voice filled with disbelief and triumph.

You look at him like he’s crazy, his entire being now radiating joy despite just committing a felony big enough to land him back in jail. Your mind races, a whirlwind of fear, excitement, and bewilderment. How could he be so thrilled, so elated, after what just happened? The exhilaration from moments ago is rapidly giving way to a gnawing anxiety, the reality of your actions sinking in.

"Pull over," you finally manage to say, your voice barely steady.

"What?" Jongseong's grin falters for a moment, confusion clouding his features.

"Pull over," you repeat, more forcefully this time.

"Do you want to get caught?" he snaps, acutely aware that the police have probably been alerted by now. His eyes dart to the rearview mirror, scanning for any signs of pursuit.

“I want to know what the fuck you think you’re doing.”

Jongseong’s jaw tightens, and any joy that was flowing through his body has now evaporated, escaping through the heavy exhale from his nostrils. His hands grip the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white, the tendons in his arms standing out starkly. The atmosphere inside the car grows heavy, thick with tension and unspoken words.

You realise instantly that you’ve crossed a line, the severity of your words sinking in as his anger radiates off him like a palpable force. The air between you crackles with electricity, the adrenaline of the heist replaced by a chilling fear of the unknown. You’re not scared of Jongseong, not really, but of the intensity of his reaction and what he might be thinking.

He hard shoulders the car to the edge of a cliff, the tires screeching as he brings the vehicle to an abrupt stop. The scenery outside is almost picturesque, the cliff overlooking a vast expanse of ocean, waves crashing against the rocks below. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows, but the serene beauty of the landscape does nothing to alleviate the suffocating tension within the car.

Jongseong's cold glare freezes you in place, his eyes dark and unyielding. "Repeat that last sentence," he demands, his voice low and menacing.

"I...I," you stammer, too overcome with slight fear to form a coherent response. It’s not Jongseong himself that scares you, but the raw intensity of his emotions and the unpredictability of the situation.

"Did you just swear at me?" he asks, his tone sharp enough to cut through the thick silence. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the flicker of hurt beneath the anger.

The fear of what he’s thinking, the consequences of your words, paralyses you. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. The reality of the situation crashes over you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“I... I didn’t mean to-”

“Get out of the car. Now.” His voice is a low, dangerous growl, leaving no room for argument.

You scramble to comply, fumbling with the door handle. Your fingers tremble as you push the door open, the heavy metal creaking in protest. As you step out, the uneven ground beneath your feet adds to your growing sense of disorientation. The wind whips through your hair and the cliff's edge looms just a few feet away, adding to your sense of vulnerability.

Is he going to leave you here? The thought is a panicked whisper in your mind, the idea of being abandoned on this desolate cliffside sending a fresh wave of fear coursing through you. But he wouldn’t do that, he is too infatuated by you to abandon you.

So you’re quaking in trepidation and adrenaline for what he has planned.

Jongseong steps out of the car with a deliberate calm, the door slamming shut behind him with a resonating thud. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, the earlier anger now replaced by something cold and calculating.

“On your knees,” he commands, his voice hard and unyielding.

You hesitate for a moment, confusion and anxiety warring within you. The words seem surreal, echoing in your mind as you try to process what’s happening. But then the steel in his eyes brooks no argument, and you realise you have no choice but to do as you’re told.

Slowly, you lower yourself to the ground, the rough gravel biting into your knees. The indignity of the position, combined with the terror of being so close to the cliff, leaves you feeling utterly exposed. You glance up at Jongseong, searching for a hint of what’s to come, but his face is a mask of icy determination.

Noticing the tremble in your lips, a soft, almost tender expression flickers across his features. He reaches down, his hand cradling one side of your face gently. “Shhh, darlin’. I’m just going to wash those dirty words out of your mouth,” he murmurs, his voice deceptively soothing.

Your heart pounds harder, anticipation and fear twisting into a knot in your stomach. You watch, wide-eyed, as he undoes his belt with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink echoing in the stillness. He pulls down the zipper, his movements controlled and precise, never breaking eye contact with you. It is only now that you know what he means by washing the dirty words out of your mouth.

Jongseong takes out his cock, thick and long, a sight you can’t quite get used to, no matter how many times you see it. Your fingers grip tightly at your skirt as you endure the rough gravel digging into your knees. Despite the discomfort, your focus is entirely on his eight-inch length, its pink tip throbbing with desire, mirroring your pulsing clit.

Seeing the light of excitement in your eyes, Jongseong smiles wickedly. What he saw back at the bank, that flicker of wanting rush and spontaneity is instilled deep within you, and what perfect way to get it out of you than making you suck his cock on the edge of a nth-drop-foot cliff.

He taps the head of his cock against your lips, his expression a blend of mock innocence and raw hunger. “You know I don’t like doing this, Y/N," he says, his tone dripping with false remorse. Jongseong doesn’t care about you swearing at him, not really; he’s just looking for an excuse to ease the horniness swimming through his blood and to bring out the real you that's hiding in the shadows.

“Unless...you want to be bad?” He tilts his head, his gaze feigning curiosity because he already knows the answer. “I saw it in your eyes, darlin’. That blood rush because you know you’re doing something bad.”

You shift slightly on your knees, licking your lips, your eyes fixated on his member. The desire to take him in your mouth is overwhelming. The fear, guilt, dread, excitement, and power mix into a heady cocktail - it creates something inside you that you have long sought after. Your life that has been so built up in the foundation of being perfect for your father is draining and mundane, which is why you were drawn so irresistibly to him. He can give you everything you crave, even through unorthodox situations like this.

Jongseong teases you, swiping his tip along your lips. As you open your mouth in eager anticipation, he pulls away just out of reach, a smirk playing on his lips as you lift your ass from your heels, chasing it like a dog with a bone before you yield.

He starts pumping his cock slowly, his eyes locked onto yours. “You can be as bad as you like, baby,” he leans down slightly, his voice a low, seductive growl. “As long as you're a good girl for me, okay?”

“Yes, Jjongie,” you nod quickly, desperate for your mouth to be filled. The anticipation, mixed with the danger of the cliff and the fear of being caught, makes your pussy ache and your heart race.

With a sudden, forceful motion, Jongseong grabs the back of your head, pulling you closer. "Open wide," he commands, his voice firm yet filled with desire. You comply, your mouth opening eagerly as he thrusts himself deep, filling you completely. He groans in pleasure as he begins to fuck your mouth with rough, passionate thrusts.

His hand rests on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he sets a deliberate pace. You hollow your cheeks, sucking him in, your tongue swirling around his length, paying extra attention to his tip when it hits the edge of your lips. The heat and weight of him on your tongue send shivers down your spine, and you moan around him, the sound vibrating through his dick.

“Take it all, darlin’,” he murmurs, his grip tightening as he pushes deeper, your gag reflex kicking in. Tears spring to your eyes, but the mixture of pain and pleasure only fuels your desire. You moan around him, the vibrations making him groan louder.

Jongseong’s pace quickens, his long length hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You struggle to breathe, but the sensation of being used, of surrendering completely to his control, sends waves of heat through your body. Despite the intensity, you crave more; you can’t get enough. Every thrust, every moment of control he exerts over you, only deepens your need. You love this, even though you probably shouldn’t.

Because you have always been so compliant to him, never pushing his buttons, every time he has ever touched you has always been rough but with an overwhelming cast of softness, scared to push you too far considering your limited sexual experiences. But right now, it is pure lust and dominance taking over his body. This is your chance to show you can take it, soft or hard, as long as it’s Jongseong.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he pants, his eyes dark with lust. “So good at taking your punishment.” You nod as best as you can, his cock still buried in the back of your throat as you try your best to widen it, accommodating his girth the best you can.

His praise spurs you on, and you bob your head faster, your hand coming up to stroke the base of his cock in time with your movements. Jongseong’s breath hitches, his hands gripping your roots for support. The veins on his arms bulge with the intensity of his grip, his knuckles white.

His breathing becomes erratic, and you feel his cock twitching, a clear sign he's nearing climax. His eyes close momentarily, his brow furrowing, then lock onto yours again, filled with raw desire.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he groans, his hips thrusting in sync with your movements. “I’m so close.”

His thrusts become more urgent, more forceful. You can sense the muscles in his abdomen tensing with each movement, a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten. His jaw clenches, his breathing ragged. You are lost in the moment, your body reacting instinctively, wanting to please him, to draw out his release. The sensation of his cock filling your throat, the taste, the feel - it’s intoxicating, leaving you craving more with every second.

Suddenly, he tightens his grip on your scalp, pulling you down hard onto his cock, burying himself so deep that his bell is well past your tonsils, almost hitting your voice box. The force and intrusion makes you gag, and he holds you there, deep in your oesophagus. Your eyes water, and you feel his cock pulsing as he reaches his peak.

With a guttural moan, Jongseong shudders violently, emptying himself deep within you. The hot torrent of his seed floods your throat with a sudden intensity that makes you gag, the unexpected force sending spurts through your nose. The sensation is both startling and overwhelming, the heat and discomfort mingling in a strange thrill. Your nostrils burn slightly, each breath catching the faint, musky scent of his cum, and you feel the final thick, warm fluid trickling down your throat and seeping from your nose.

Jongseong's grip on you is unyielding, his body taut with pleasure, eyes squeezed shut in an expression of raw ecstasy. His cock pulses and twitches as he drains himself completely, the final spurts leaving him trembling. Slowly, he loosens his hold, withdrawing from your mouth with a slick, wet sound, his length coated in a mixture of saliva and cum.

You gasp for air, your lungs burning as you draw in ragged breaths. The remnants of his release cling to your lips and drip from your nose, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. The myriad sensations leave you dizzy and lightheaded, but there’s an undeniable satisfaction in the aftermath of such a powerful, primal exchange. Your chest heaves as you recover, each breath a challenge, and despite the intensity, you can’t help but feel a deep, insatiable hunger for more.

Jongseong tucks his cock away before looking down at you, the white dripping down your nose, chin and onto your chest. The sight makes him tremble, an aftershock of pure adoration for the messy girl before him. "You are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs, crouching down to wipe the seed from your face. Your lazy smile spreads across your lips, a blend of bliss and contentment washing over you. The intensity of the experience leaves you feeling floaty and disoriented, but there’s an underlying sense of satisfaction and connection that warms you from within.

"Just don't swear at me again, okay, pretty? You gotta trust me," he continues, opening your mouth with his thumb and sticking his fingers in, making you clean them up. The taste of his cum lingers as you obediently suck his fingers clean, your eyes overcast with a mixture of bliss and unfamiliarity. You nod, feeling a bit contrite.

"I'm sorry. It won’t happen again, I was just...surprised. You should have told me what we were doing." You can’t help but feel a twinge of regret. It would have been nice to have a heads-up that you were committing your first crime, even if you were just an accomplice.

Jongseong sighs, understanding your point of view. He helps you stand, his hands steadying you as your legs feel like jelly. He brushes the gravel from your knees, his fingers lingering slightly as he ogles at the indents and scrapes, oddly admiring the view. There's a gentleness in his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of moments before.

"You would never have agreed to come with me if I did tell you. I wanted you to see and feel the rush of it all," he explains, his voice filled with conviction. He leans in, kissing your lips gently, the softness of his kiss a vastly different feeling from the burning in your throat and nose. "You did, didn’t you? You understand it now."

The memory of the heist flashes vividly in your mind, the exhilarating chaos of it all. Standing side by side with Jongseong as he robbed the bank was like stepping into another world, one where every second was charged with a thrilling sense of danger and excitement. The cold metal of the gun in his hand, the authoritative bark of his commands, and the wide-eyed fear in the faces of the bank staff and customers - it was a symphony of sensations that left your heart pounding in your chest in the best possible way.

You pause, the truth sinking in. "I...I do," you admit, knowing there’s no point in denying it. The rush, the adrenaline, it’s undeniable. But the risk, the fear of losing him, it lingers in your mind. "But there are other ways to get that same rush, ones that don't risk me losing you."

For the first time, Jongseong's heart feels like it's punching his rib cage. He can’t believe the depth of your concern, the intensity of your feelings for him. "I know, but I'm not going anywhere," he promises, his voice filled with sincerity. You give him a sceptical look, worry etched into your features. "I'll be careful. You're my good luck charm, and you're never leaving my side. So, what is there to worry about?"

Jongseong's arms wrap around you, bringing you closer. His warmth envelops you, providing a soothing presence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. You cuddle into his hug, a smile pulling to the middle of your cheeks. His steady, robust heartbeat is a calming contrast to your own. The lingering taste of him, the scent of sweat and musk, it’s all becoming music to your senses.

He can't believe he has found someone so perfect for him. Someone to ground him and see his potential, even through everything. Maybe there is a part of him that wants to tone it down a little, because the fear of losing you too is something his heart doesn't want to bear thinking about.

Although the rush and excitement of breaking the law pumps the blood through his body, even just laying his eyes upon you has the same desired effect. Perhaps you could be his new rush. Jongseong had never considered another way to get his kicks because this is all he has known for so long, the window you're opening up in his mind lets him peep into what could be, rather than what he knows.

Sirens blare softly in the distance, almost acting as a backing track to your loving waltz. But you know you can’t stay standing here for long, very few roads to turn and navigate if they caught up to you. Looking up at him, you smile, oddly calm despite the circumstances around you. “Let’s go. We can book a motel.”

“Good shout. I don’t think I can wait to fuck you.”

You look puzzled, brow furrowing as you process his words. "Do you not hear the police? I mean we need to keep low."

Jongseong laughs, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. His hand traces your waist, fingers pressing gently into your skin. "Oh, I know," he says, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and desire. "But I also meant what I said."

_____

The smell of chlorine fills the air, a sharp, clean scent that immediately evokes memories of summer afternoons spent poolside. Beneath the tang of chemicals lies the faintest hint of dampness, the kind that clings to cool tiles and wets the soles of your feet. The ambient humidity wraps around you like a warm blanket, the moisture hanging heavy in the air as you take careful steps forward, your senses heightened by the darkness that surrounds you.

A blindfold is secured over your eyes, its fabric soft against your skin, blocking out the world and leaving you in a realm of anticipation. Jongseong's hands are firm yet gentle on your arms, guiding you carefully, his touch reassuring as he leads you to the unknown. His fingers occasionally rub soothing circles on your arms, grounding you, while his lips brush tenderly against your shoulder, planting a kiss that sends a shiver of warmth through your body.

"Just a bit further," he murmurs, his voice a low, comforting rumble in your ear. The sound of it makes you smile, your heart swelling with affection, but the mystery of what lies ahead keeps a slight edge of nervousness tingling in your veins.

“Jjongie,” you giggle, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in your chest. “What’s the surprise?”

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. “If I tell you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

You laugh, but there’s a faint tremor of unease beneath your amusement. “I don’t like your surprises...” you say, trying to keep your tone light, but there’s a flicker of real concern in your voice.

Your mind drifts back to the last time Jongseong had surprised you. What was supposed to be a simple drive had turned into something much more exhilarating - and terrifying. He’d taken you on a late-night drag race, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as he floored the gas pedal. You’d ended up in his lap, your lips wrapped around him as he tried to navigate the twisting roads. The memory of him nearly crashing into a lamppost as he swerved around a corner, the car jerking violently while you were mid-act, flashes vividly in your mind. It had been thrilling, dangerous, and unforgettable, but it had also left you with a newfound wariness of his surprises.

Jongseong suddenly stops, halting your thoughts along with your steps. He releases his grip on your arms and takes a moment, his eyes scanning over the scene before him. You can sense the slight shift in his demeanour, the way his breath catches ever so slightly, as if he’s nervous, though he’s doing his best to hide it.

“Okay, are you ready?” he asks, his voice taking on a more serious tone, as if the moment ahead holds weight.

“It depends on what for,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as the tension in your chest tightens.

“Yes or no answer, darlin’,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the anticipation builds. It crawls over your skin like tiny insects, a sensation that makes you think of the creepy-crawly trials from I’m a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here. The unknown feels like it’s pressing down on you, making your heart race in your chest but in an excited, throwing-up way, not in an anxiety-inducing throwing-up way.

“Yeah...I’m ready,” you finally breathe out, your voice laced with a mix of courage and curiosity.

With that, Jongseong reaches up and slowly removes the blindfold. The world beyond the darkness gradually comes into focus as your eyes adjust to the light. You blink a few times, your vision sharpening, and then the scene before you fully reveals itself.

You find yourself standing at the edge of a beautifully lit gymnasium pool. The water is calm, its surface reflecting the soft glow of the lights that line the ceiling and walls. The pool stretches out before you, the deep blue water inviting and serene. The entire space is transformed, the usual harshness of a gymnasium replaced by an almost magical ambience. The soft glow of string lights hangs above, casting a warm, golden hue that dances across the water’s surface. Candles flicker gently along the edges, their flames steady despite the humidity, adding a touch of romance to the already enchanting atmosphere.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the sight before you. “Jjongie...” you whisper, your voice thick with a mixture of awe and emotion. A smile begins to creep across your face, slow but unstoppable, and you feel a sting in your eyes as tears threaten to spill over.

“It’s nice, right?” Jongseong asks, his voice soft, filled with an affectionate warmth as he watches your reaction.

“Nice?” you echo, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s beautiful. When did you do all of this?”

“A few hours ago, while you were getting ready,” he admits with a shy smile, rubbing the back of his neck as if the effort was no big deal, though you can tell he’s pleased with himself. It actually took him well over three hours to sort everything out, and an hour of that was simply to untangle the lights he had managed to wrap himself up in.

You look at him, the adoration you feel for him filling every corner of your being. The surprise, the thoughtfulness of it all, is overwhelming in the best possible way. It’s not just about the setting he’s created, but the care and effort he’s put into making this moment special for you.

As you step further into the softly lit gymnasium, your eyes catch sight of a blanket spread out near the edge of the pool, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights. The setup is simple yet thoughtful: a wicker basket sits in the centre, along with two plates, some cutlery, and an assortment of your favourite snacks. You can't help but smile as you notice a small bag of Percy Pig sweets peeking out from the basket, their bright, cartoonish faces bringing a touch of humour to the romantic setting.

Jongseong follows your gaze, a proud grin spreading across his face when he sees you've noticed the details. “See, I got all your favourites, even those ugly pigs,” he teases, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tries to keep a straight face.

You turn to him, feigning offence. “Excuse me? Percy Pig deserves respect.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he laughs, rolling his eyes playfully. “Now, sit down before I eat them all myself.”

You both settle down on the blanket, the fabric soft beneath you as Jongseong reaches for the basket. He pulls out a bottle of cheap wine and a pair of plastic glasses he bumped from Tesco, it’s not really stealing, just an accidental 'forgot to scan it' - along with the basket, some plates, and the fairy lights that encompass the space. He did pay for the wine though, that much he can pour guilt-free.

“This is really nice, Jonseong. But how did you manage to rent out the pool after hours?”

He takes a sip of his wine, a nonchalant shrug accompanying his response. “I know a guy.”

You narrow your eyes at him, scepticism evident in your expression, but you don’t press further. “Why did you choose this place? You know, picnics are usually in parks, not next to chlorine-filled water.”

Jongseong chuckles, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “Well, duh. I know I’ve spent most of my life in prison, but I do know basic picnic etiquette.” He rolls his eyes dramatically before continuing, “I just wanted to do something different. Trying to create an original experience, you know? Besides, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly fancy restaurant material.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, appreciating his honesty. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the stillness only broken by the gentle lapping of the water and the hum of the old but functioning AC. The ambience is peaceful, the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the pool’s surface, creating a serene atmosphere that makes you feel completely at ease.

But there’s a question that has lingered in the back of your mind for some time now, one you’ve never dared to ask. You hesitate, the words sitting heavy on your tongue, unsure if now is the right moment to bring it up. Eventually, curiosity wins out, and you break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

Jongseong looks at you, his expression softening. “Anything, darlin’. You know that.”

You’ve always respected his privacy, never prying into his past because, in your mind, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the person he is now, the man who’s made you feel more cherished than anyone else ever has. But he’s mentioned his past in passing, little snippets here and there, and now feels like as good a time as any to learn more.

“When did you first go to prison?” you ask, your voice tentative, almost unsure.

His reaction is immediate, his eyes widening for a split second before he quickly downs the rest of his wine, using the alcohol as Dutch courage. Jongseong usually isn’t nervous about discussing his past, knowing that the judgement and resentment from others can’t change the path he’s driven down. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t want you to see him in a different light, doesn’t want his past mistakes to taint the way you look at him now.

You see the turmoil flickering across his face, and you quickly reach out, grabbing his hand to offer comfort. “It’s okay,” you say gently, squeezing his hand. “You don’t have to tell me...it was stupid of me to ask.”

He shakes his head, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself. “No, it’s not stupid. You deserve to know.” He pauses, his voice quieter when he finally speaks. “I was 16. They charged me with domestic assault.”

You feel your body tense up at his words, recoiling slightly, but before you can pull away. Though your brain doesn’t want to jump to that conclusion, it’s the first thing your mind flickers in front of your eyes.

Jongseong squeezes your hand tightly, his eyes earnest and pleading as he sees you leap to conclusions that make him feel sick. “Oh God, no, not like that, baby,” he quickly clarifies. “I would kill myself before I ever laid a hand on my partner. I couldn’t even fathom the idea.”

Relief washes over you, your muscles relaxing as you search his eyes for the truth. “Then who?”

He looks away for a moment, his jaw clenching as he struggles to find the right words. “My dad,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. “He was fucking awful, and I just snapped one day after school. The neighbours called the police, and they carted me off. Next thing you know, I’m serving two months in juvie.”

You feel a surge of anger on his behalf, your heart aching at the thought of what he must have gone through. “He deserved it, though, right?” you ask, needing to hear it from him.

“Fuck yeah, he did,” Jongseong replies, his voice seething with barely contained rage. “Fucking prick was a good for nothing low life and let him know it. After that, it was just a downhill spiral. Selling, stealing, fighting... it’s hard to get out of that life once you’re in it.”

The rawness of his words hangs heavy in the air, the weight of his past pressing down on both of you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the memories of a life he’s tried so hard to leave behind. You want to say something, anything, to make it better, but words feel inadequate. Instead, you simply hold his hand tighter, letting him know that you’re here for him, that you’re not going anywhere.

As Jongseong finishes recounting his story, you listen intently, the gravity of his words settling over you. The conversation has taken a turn for the deeply personal, exposing vulnerabilities you had only glimpsed before. His past is a labyrinth of mistakes and regrets, mirroring the tangled web that ensnares people once they slip into a life of crime. It reminds you of your father’s own downward spiral, how once he got entangled in embezzling money, every effort to escape only seemed to complicate matters further. It’s a relentless cycle, each attempt to break free only making the situation worse.

But as you gaze at Jongseong, with his defiant eyes and mischievous grin, you see a boy who, despite his reckless choices, has a core of goodness. The crimes he’s committed are not born from malice but from a life he was thrust into, a life he has never known how to escape. Maybe, just maybe, you can offer him a different path, one that leads to a better future.

“I think there’s a better life out there for you,” you say softly, your voice trembling with sincerity.

Jongseong meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that catches you off guard. He stares at you for a moment, his mind churning and eyes twinkling with realisation. “I think there is.”

A gentle smile begins to spread across your face. Despite the adrenaline-fueled adventures and the excitement of petty crimes you’ve shared with him, you’ve come to realise how much Jongseong means to you. The thrill has been exhilarating, but now it’s time to give back, to help him find the life he deserves. The life that’s not defined by theft and deceit but by something more meaningful.

“I got you something,” he says, breaking the silence with a hint of mischief in his tone.

Curiosity piques as you ask, “What is it?”

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, his voice light but carrying a touch of seriousness.

You comply, and the sounds of him rummaging through the picnic basket fill your ears. The rustling of items and the faint clink of metal create a suspenseful atmosphere. There’s a brief pause, and you hear him take a slow, steady breath. The anticipation is palpable, crawling up your spine like a swarm of butterflies, each flap of their wings a reminder of the momentous occasion unfolding.

“Okay, open.”

You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to the dim glow of the fairy lights that flicker around you. Jongseong holds out a tiny white box, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope. Your heart skips a beat as you take the box from him, the weight of it feeling surprisingly significant.

“Jongseong...” you whisper, a mixture of shock and affection in your voice.

“Open it,” he urges, his eyes locked onto yours with a fervent intensity.

With trembling hands, you lift the lid of the box. Inside, nestled in a bed of soft cotton, are two simple yet elegant rings. The sight of them takes your breath away, the understated beauty of the rings striking a chord deep within you.

“What is-”

“Now, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jongseong interrupts, a playful glint in his eye. “I’m not proposing or anything. I love you, but I’m not letting you marry an unemployed loser who’s couch-hopping between friends’ flats. This is just to remind everyone that you’re mine.”

Your eyes widen, the significance of his words settling over you like a warm embrace. “Y-you love me?”

Jongseong looks at you as though your question is absurd. “Wasn’t it obvious? I’m literally obsessed with you.” He takes one of the rings and carefully slides it onto your finger. “I didn’t think I had to make a big song and dance about it when I show you how much I love you every day.”

The simple act of placing the ring on your finger speaks volumes. It’s not just a gesture; it’s a declaration of his feelings, one that surpasses words. Jongseong has never experienced love before, has no frame of reference, but if all those tacky magazines in the prison recreational room were correct, this is what love is supposed to feel like. It’s raw, sincere, and unfiltered.

It’s willing to become a better person for them.

“I love you too,” you say softly, the words flowing from your heart with a new depth. It’s the first time you’ve uttered those words to someone who wasn’t family, and the weight of the phrase carries a profound significance now. It’s not just about affection; it’s about a deep, abiding connection.

Jongseong’s laughter fills the air, a rich, throaty sound that resonates with joy. You tilt your head, puzzled by his sudden amusement. “What?”

“Well, duh!” he says, his tone a mix of mock arrogance and genuine affection. “You get googly-eyed every time you look at me. Even when I was getting carted off to prison, you were practically gushing over me - probably in more places than just your chest.” His gaze drops to your skirt, a cheeky smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh my God, shut up!” you exclaim, playfully shoving him. But as you do, his balance falters, and he tumbles backward into the pool with a splash. The cold water surges around him, and you burst into laughter at the sight of his surprised, spluttering face.

Before you can fully enjoy the moment, Jongseong’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the pool with him. The shock of the cold water envelops you, the fabric of your dress clinging uncomfortably to your skin.

“Jongseong!” you cry out, trying to push him away as you sputter and splash him. “This is Prada!” You gesture to your drenched dress, the expensive fabric now ruined.

“And this” he retorts with a grin, pinching the soggy fabric of his non-designer t-shirt, “is from the lost and found box.” He gives you a sheepish smile, but when he sees your unamused expression, he quickly adds, “Okay, okay, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“It’s ￡700!” you protest, though there’s a playful undertone in your voice.

“Then I’ll steal you a new one,” he quips, his tone light but earnest.

You fix him with a serious look, though your lips twitch with a suppressed smile. “If you want me to keep this ring on,” you say, holding your hand out of the water to display the glinting band, “then you need to promise me you’ll stop stealing, and fighting, and anything else that could get you locked up.” Your voice grows more serious with each word. “I can’t lose you.”

Jongseong’s expression softens as he takes your hand in his, pressing a tender kiss to the ring before placing your hand over his heart. “Scout’s honour. For you, I’ll be on the straight and narrow. I solemnly swear that I, Park Jongseong, will never commit another crime.” His tone is light-hearted, but the sincerity in his eyes assures you that this promise is different from the ones he made before.

Just as you’re about to respond, a booming voice interrupts. “Hey! What are you two doing here?”

You both turn to see a security guard marching toward you, his face a mix of irritation and confusion. Jongseong glances at you with a sheepish grin, water dripping from his hair. “Well...starting now, I’ll commit no crimes.”

“Huh-” Before you can fully comprehend the situation, Jongseong is already dragging you out of the pool, his hand gripping yours tightly as you both scramble to your feet. You catch sight of the security guard sprinting toward you, his expression growing more determined.

“I thought you said your friend helped you out?” you huff as you run alongside him.

“Yeah, my friend called Lockpick,” Jongseong replies with a grin that reaches his eyes, bending down to pick his ring up. “Now come on, let’s get out of here.”

Despite the chaos, you find yourself mirroring his bright smile. Maybe you’ll let him commit some crimes after all - just as long as you’re along for the ride.

_____

The reflection in the mirror feels like a portal to the past, a glimpse into a version of yourself you thought you’d left behind. The long, opulent gown drapes elegantly over your frame, its intricate embroidery catching the light in a way that’s both nostalgic and unfamiliar. The diamond earrings - a gift from your father on your 16th birthday - sparkle with a cold brilliance, a stark reminder of the expectations that have always weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your hair is styled in a sleek, elegant updo, every strand meticulously in place, as if you were once again the picture-perfect daughter in his carefully curated world.

It’s been months since you last had to dress like this, stepping into a role that now feels more like a distant memory than a reality. But tonight is different. Tonight is a special occasion. It’s the night of your father’s grand welcome-back party, a lavish affair meant to reintroduce him to the world of business after years behind bars. This event is more than just a celebration; it’s a calculated move to solidify his reputation as a formidable figure in the corporate world, a moneyed tyrant who, against all odds, has maintained his iron grip on power.

Despite the scandals that would have buried anyone else, your father’s influence remains unshaken. His business partners and corporate clients still stand by his side, drawn by the promise of wealth and the unspoken agreements that bind them together. Perhaps it’s the money he’s skillfully laundered for them over the years or the secrets he’s kept buried deep, that have ensured their loyalty. The room will be filled with men in tailored suits, their faces masked with polite smiles, but beneath the surface, a web of silent transactions and mutual dependencies will be at play.

You love your father, you really do, but big soirees like this have never been your thing. Attending them always felt like a chore rather than a time of relaxation and merriment. Maybe it was because of the prestige and pressure it was being your father’s daughter, or maybe it was the constant polite smile and meaningless interactions with people you didn’t know that weighed down the atmosphere.

Either way, you had to show up for your father, just as you are now. He would be so disappointed if you missed this and you can’t bear the thought. So you will put up with the uncomfortable attire for at least a night.

The good news is, one man will be by your side the entire night, a thought that washes over you like a wave of relief. Jongseong's presence brings you an immense sense of ease, though the prospect of him meeting your father for the first time still stirs a flutter of anxiety in your chest. It has to happen eventually, and what better setting than a crowded party where distractions abound?

Jongseong isn’t a people person and he avoids interaction unless absolutely necessary. The only person he ever makes an exception for is you, which is why he agreed to accompany you tonight despite his discomfort. You know how much this evening will demand of him - being surrounded by a crowd so different from him, full of people who thrive on small talk and business banter. But he would do anything for you, simply because he loves you. And you know that no combination of words could ever fully express your gratitude for that.

As you twirl a strand of hair into place, you steal a glance at the ring on your finger, smiling at the symbolic silver. It puts some comfort into your chest even as you mentally brace yourself for whatever the night will bring. You step out of the bathroom and your eyes immediately find Jongseong. He stands in front of the free-standing mirror in your dorm room, struggling with his tie, wrapping it around and around, only to fumble with the knot.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, drawing Jongseong's attention. His head snaps up, and the frustration in his eyes melts away, replaced by a look of pure awe. His gaze softens, shimmering with admiration as he takes you in. It never seems to matter whether you're dressed in sweatpants or a £5,000 gown - Jongseong always looks at you as if you are the only person in the world.

To him, you are. The only one who truly matters, anyway.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles, his hands dropping from the black silk tie as he stands there, completely mesmerised. He takes in how the dress hugs your waist, how your hair frames your face perfectly, and he suddenly feels unworthy to even be in your presence. “You look so beautiful, darlin’. You make diamonds look dull.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you dip your head slightly, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. Slowly, you walk over to him, smiling softly. “Thank you, Jjongie. You look really handsome,” you reply, your voice earnest and full of affection. And it’s true - he looks like something out of a wet dream, the kind you've had more times than you’d ever admit. The way his fitted black trousers accentuate his frame, the crisp white shirt that contrasts so beautifully against his tanned skin, and the fresh undercut that highlights the angles of his face - all of it makes you want to forget about the party entirely and lose yourself in him.

As you reach him, you gently take the tie he was struggling with earlier and start to tie it, your fingers deftly creating a Windsor knot that could rival any royal affair. You’ve done this countless times for your father, and the thought crosses your mind of how he might be feeling as he dons a suit for the first time in five years.

Jongseong tilts his head back slightly as you loop the end of the tie through, fidgeting like a restless child. “Hold still,” you chide him with a playful roll of your eyes, amused by his toddler-like impatience.

“I fucking hate ties,” he grumbles, trying his best not to squirm as you pull the knot tight. Jongseong has never been one for formalwear; he despises suits with a passion. The only times he’s ever worn one have been for court dates and funerals, events that always seem to bring trouble in their wake. To him, the tie feels less like an accessory and more like a silk noose.

You sigh softly, nodding in understanding. “I know, baby, but please, just bear with it. Tonight is important.” Your voice is gentle, and you shoot him an apologetic glance as you finish adjusting the tie, making sure it’s perfectly in place.

Jongseong knows how much this evening means to you. He’s also noticed the subtle changes in you ever since your father regained his freedom. He’s not blind to the way you’ve become a little more reserved, a little more cautious. He wonders if it’s just the anxiety of tonight or if it’s the looming reality that your father will soon learn about your relationship with him, along with his not-so-angelic extracurricular activities. Either way, Jongseong has been extra vigilant, more protective of you than ever.

You pin the tie bar in place, stepping back to admire your handiwork with a smile. “There, not so bad, huh?”

“I feel like a circus attraction,” he mutters, resisting the urge to loosen the knot and unbutton the collar. Formalwear has never been his style, and tonight feels like he’s being paraded in front of an audience he wants nothing to do with.

You place your hands on his chest, rubbing small circles to ease the tension you can feel building beneath your palms. “I would come to see you perform every day,” you joke lightly, rising on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, making you wish they were attached to yours every second of the day.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Jongseong’s mouth as his hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer. He deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips, the sensation causing your carefully applied Charlotte Tilbury Pillow Talk lipstick to smudge and transfer onto him. The kiss grows more intense, erasing all thoughts of the party, the people, and even the daunting meeting with your father. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and nothing else matters.

But it can’t last forever, as much as you wish it could. In an ideal world, Jongseong would rip the overpriced dress off your body, and the two of you wouldn’t leave your dorm room for days. Yet, reality pulls you back, and with it, the obligations of the night. You reluctantly pull away, feeling the weight of the evening settling back into place.

Jongseong instinctively tries to follow your lips, but you step back, offering him a remorseful smile. “C’mon. We need to head downstairs. Sunghoon should be arriving to pick us up in a couple of minutes.”

At the mention of another man’s name, your boyfriend’s ears perk up, and his eyebrows knit together in suspicion. “Sunghoon?” He practically spits the name out, his jaw tightening visibly. There’s an edge to his voice, one you recognise all too well.

You roll your eyes playfully, familiar with Jongseong’s lack of enthusiasm when another man is in the same room as you. “Babe, he’s just the driver for my parents. They insisted he pick us up,” you explain, your tone gentle but firm, hoping to diffuse his growing irritation.

Jongseong’s gaze softens a fraction, though a trace of his protectiveness lingers. “I could drive us,” he offers, his voice low, the implication clear. He wants to be the one to look after you, not someone he doesn’t know.

Exhaling loudly, you shake your head and cross your arms. “If you drive us, you won’t be able to drink. Now imagine being in a room full of upper-class businessmen and not one ounce of Jack Daniels in your system?”

That gives Jongseong food for thought as he stands in silence, weighing up the pros and cons of an alcohol-free night next to pretentious laughter and fake compliments. He shivers at the thought, his body visibly shaking at the idea of sobriety.

The look on his face causes you to laugh and nod your head. “Exactly. Now come on.”

Your boyfriend loosens his tie slightly, prioritising his comfort over meeting your father’s strict expectations. The simple gesture sends a ripple of unease through you, as if the crooked tie is a symbol of everything that could go wrong tonight. You wouldn’t say you’re normally an uptight person, but moments like these set your nerves on edge, making every little detail feel like it carries immense weight.

As you pick up your handbag, you pause at the front door, bracing yourself for the conversation you know you need to have. Your heart races, fearing how Jongseong might react. “Jongseong?”

“Yeah, darlin’?” he replies, his voice softening as he senses your hesitation.

You swallow, choosing your words carefully. “Please don’t…embarrass me tonight.”

The words hang in the air, and you immediately regret how they sound. Jongseong’s expression shifts, confusion flickering across his face as he narrows his eyes. For as long as he has been yours, he’s never known you to be embarrassed by him. “When have I eve-”

“Maybe not embarrass, but…” you interrupt, realising your words came out harsher than you intended. “Just don’t be so overprotective or try to hunt down any man that looks at me or breathes next to me. I love you so much for it, but not tonight, okay? This is a big deal for my dad, and I need you two to get along.”

You see the surprise in his eyes as he processes your request. Despite your concerns, you can’t help but adore his possessive nature - the way he scowls and asserts his claim over you in front of anyone he sees as a threat. The way he reacted to Sunghoon’s name even sent a thrill through you, though you knew tonight wasn’t the time for that. You need him to dial it back, and surprisingly, he doesn’t push back.

Instead, Jongseong simply takes the Prada bag from your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours. There’s a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a sign that he understands your embarrassment isn’t about him but about the high expectations your father holds.

“We’ll get along just fine, darlin’. We already have so much in common. We can swap prison stories,” he jokes, but the humour is lost on you. Your gaze hardens, stern enough that it could turn anyone to stone, and he immediately raises the hand holding your bag in mock defence.

“Okay, okay. I’ll behave,” he promises, his tone shifting to a more sincere one. “But if anyone speaks out of line about you, I’m knocking them into next Thursday.”

You sigh, the tension easing slightly as you nod in agreement. “Thank you,” you murmur, leaning in to peck his cheek in gratitude. The small gesture of affection helps to soothe the lingering anxiety, and as you walk him out the door, your heart feels a little lighter.

_____

As expected, when you arrive, the scene before you looks like something straight out of Jay Gatsby’s wildest fantasies. The sprawling 13-bedroom mansion, once your childhood home, has been transformed into a shimmering spectacle of wealth. Guests are crowded around the grand entrance, their laughter and chatter spilling out onto the manicured lawn. The estate is alive with the hum of a party that promises decadence at every turn, a stark reminder of the world your father has clawed his way back into.

Despite the legal battles and the assets stripped from him, your father had been too cunning for the law. He’d anticipated the fallout, shielding the most valuable pieces of his empire under your mother’s name. The house, the cars, even some of the art that adorns the walls - they all remained untouched, legally out of reach.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the evening settle over you as you step out of the car. Jongseong is by your side in an instant, his presence a steady anchor amidst the swirl of luxury and status. His hand intertwines with yours, a silent promise that he’s with you every step of the way. Although he might be uncomfortable, his main priority is ensuring your happiness throughout the night.

As you both approach the entrance, the grandeur of the night unfolds around you. The glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the marbled floors, and the air is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and cigars. The crowd parts slightly as you and Jongseong make your way inside, their eyes flicking toward you, assessing, judging, some with curiosity, others with veiled envy.

Jongseong’s grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, a small but reassuring gesture. You glance up at him, catching the faintest smirk on his lips as he surveys the scene. He’s out of his element here, but you can tell he’s already sizing up the room, assessing who’s who and what role they might play tonight. There’s an edge to him that you can’t help but feel guilty for, placing him in an environment that you know won’t accept him.

Even though his tattoos are covered and his criminal status is concealed behind the expensive suit you bought him, these people sniff out those who aren’t like them, making it known by the judgement on their faces.

Gazing around, Jongseong quickly understands why you’ve been so anxious about tonight. The reality of this world is even worse than anything he could have imagined. The opulence, the haughty faces, the way the guests carry themselves with an air of superiority - it’s suffocating. How you were raised among these people and managed to emerge with your spirit intact is beyond him, but it makes one thing abundantly clear.

“Now I know why you came begging me for a change of pace,” he whispers in your ear, his eyes never leaving the snobbish guests who seem to be measuring each other up as much as they are the room itself.

You twist your head to look at him, a curious expression on your face. “I did not beg,” you correct him, recalling your first encounter differently than he does, the memory bringing a smile to your lips.

Jongseong shrugs, a playful grin spreading across his face as he swings your bag lightly by his side. “Well, you certainly were begging the day I got out. What was it you said to me in the car?” he teases, eyes sparkling with mischief as your cheeks start to heat up at the memory. “That’s it! It was ‘Please, Jongseong, I can’t take it-’”

Your hand shoots up to cover his mouth, your eyes widening in playful horror, though a laugh escapes your lips before you can stifle it, making your attempt at scolding him lose some of its edge. “Stop it! This is what I meant by behaving,” you warn, though your tone is more amused than stern.

Jongseong chuckles against your palm, his eyes softening as he leans in to kiss it gently before lowering it from his lips. “Actually, you said not to get possessive,” he counters, still grinning. “You should have been more specific.”

You shake your head, trying to suppress your own smile as you meet his flirty and playful gaze. He has a way of easing your nerves even in the most tense situation.

As you share a quiet laugh with Jongseong, the warmth of the moment is interrupted by the sudden approach of a familiar figure from your past. A woman with perfectly styled blonde hair and a designer dress that practically screams old money makes her way toward you, her smile wide and fake, the kind that never quite reaches the eyes. You recognize her immediately - Emily, a girl you once called a friend before your father’s fall from grace. Her presence alone is enough to make your stomach turn, knowing the kind of person she truly is.

“Y/N! Oh my God, it’s been forever!” Emily exclaims, her voice dripping with an over-the-top enthusiasm that you know is completely fabricated. She flings her arms around you in a hug that’s more for show than anything else, the scent of her expensive perfume cloying as it invades your senses.

You force a smile, stepping back slightly as you extricate yourself from her embrace. “Emily, it’s...good to see you,” you reply, keeping your tone polite but guarded. The last thing you want is to give her any ammunition, especially not tonight.

It’s not just Jongseong that has to behave.

“I was just telling everyone how much I missed you,” she gushes, her tone oozing false sincerity as she waves her hand around, drawing attention to her perfect manicure. “I mean, it’s just been so sad without you around. How have you been? And your father - what a comeback, right?”

The mention of your father sends a pang of irritation through you, but you maintain your composure, nodding politely. “Yes, it’s been a challenging time, but he is getting through it.”

Emily doesn’t miss a beat, already shifting her focus as her eyes flicker over to Jongseong. Her smile widens, eyes sparkling with interest as she takes in his tall, imposing figure. “And who is this?” she asks, her tone dropping into something far more flirtatious. Without waiting for an introduction, she steps closer to him, batting her eyelashes in a way that’s almost comical. “You must be new around here. I’m Emily,” she purrs, her hand reaching out to lightly touch his arm.

Jongseong’s expression shifts instantly, his easygoing demeanor turning icy cold. He doesn’t flinch, but the look in his eyes makes it clear that her touch is entirely unwelcome. He slowly peels her hand off his arm, his disgust barely concealed. “Jongseong,” he says curtly, his voice devoid of any warmth or interest.

Emily’s confidence wavers, but she recovers quickly, trying to brush off his reaction as if it were nothing. “Well, Jongseong, if you ever need someone to show you around, I’d be happy to-”

“Not interested,” Jongseong cuts her off, his tone sharp enough to slice through her facade. He shifts slightly, positioning himself closer to you, making it clear that he’s not here to entertain her or anyone else.

Emily's smile falters at Jongseong’s blunt dismissal, but she’s not one to back down so easily. She adjusts her posture, regaining some of her poise as she leans in closer, clearly determined to salvage the situation. “Oh, of course,” she says with a laugh that sounds more forced than genuine. “But you know, sometimes it helps to have a fresh perspective. Someone who knows how these events work, who can help you navigate the crowd.” She casts a glance at you, her eyes flickering with something that resembles pity before she looks back at Jongseong, her flirtatious tone back in full force. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to get lost in all this chaos, right?”

Jongseong doesn’t even dignify her with a glance this time, his patience visibly wearing thin. He can feel the subtle shift in your posture, the way your hand tightens around his, signalling your growing irritation. The last thing he wants is for this interaction to ruin your night - or worse, to make you feel anything less than the incredible person you are.

He sighs softly, more to himself than anyone else, before turning his full attention to Emily, his expression hardening. “Listen,” he begins, his voice low and steely, “I don’t need anyone to navigate this place, least of all someone who doesn’t know when to back off.” He steps even closer to you, his arm slipping around your waist possessively, pulling you snugly against his side. “I’m here with my girl. She’s all the perspective I need, and she’s the only one I’m interested in listening to.”

Emily’s bravado crumbles further, her forced smile now barely holding together as she realises she’s completely outmatched. The icy edge in Jongseong’s voice leaves no room for misunderstanding - her presence is neither wanted nor tolerated. She tries to laugh it off again, but it comes out as more of a strained chuckle. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude,” she mutters, clearly flustered, as she takes a small step back.

Jongseong doesn’t let up, his gaze still fixed on her, making sure she fully understands. “You did,” he replies bluntly, “but you can fix that by walking away.”

You watch the exchange, feeling a mix of relief and admiration for the way Jongseong handled it. He didn’t just brush Emily off - he shut her down in a way that left no room for further attempts. You can’t help the smug smile that is etching onto your face.

Emily finally seems to get the message. With one last awkward smile, she turns on her heel and hurries off into the crowd, her confidence shattered. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, the tension in your body slowly easing as she disappears from sight.

Jongseong looks down at you, his expression softening instantly as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “You okay?” he asks gently, his tone a stark contrast to the icy one he’d used just moments ago.

“Yeah. Let’s go get a drink.”

“Music to my fucking ears,” he laughs, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before letting you lead the way to the kitchen. The hum of the party surrounds you, but all you can focus on is the comfort of his presence.

As you walk, Jongseong asks, “Why did she even come up to you? Didn’t you say they all turned on you once they found out what your dad had done?”

You nod, casting a glance at the sea of faces that once belonged to people you called friends. Now, they wave at you as if the last five years of cold shoulders and whispered gossip had never happened. “Yeah, but back then, they didn’t know my dad had managed to keep a massive chunk of his money. While he might not be a billionaire anymore, he’s still a millionaire - and that matters more to them than a prison sentence.”

Jongseong raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of incredulity and disgust. “So they would’ve stuck around if you’d just shown them your bank account?”

“Pretty much,” you sigh. “But Dad warned me not to flaunt the money he’d managed to save, just in case HMRC came snooping again. So when they thought our family lost everything, they ditched me without a second thought.”

You pause as the reality of it all sinks in, the bitterness of that betrayal still fresh. The socialite life was all you had known - luxury, parties, and a circle of 'friends' who thrived on status. But when your family needed support the most, they scattered like leaves in the wind, leaving you to navigate the fallout alone.

“Darlin’,” he begins, his voice low and soothing as his thumb traces slow circles over your waist, pulling you closer to his side. “You’re worth more than any thick-wallet prick in here,” he assures you, his tone filled with a sincerity that makes your heart swell. And you know he means it. If you were anything like the sea of people flooding your childhood home, he would never have given you a second glance.

But Jongseong saw the real you. From the moment his eyes locked onto yours in that cold, sterile visiting room, he knew there was something deeper inside of you - a spark, a fire that refused to be dimmed by circumstance. It’s why he held you so close then, why he slipped that ring onto your finger with unwavering certainty, and why he’s fallen so madly in love with you. To him, you are the closest thing to perfection, a rare and beautiful soul in a world obsessed with superficiality.

Despite the designer clothes that drape your frame, Jongseong sees beyond the surface. He sees your heart - pure, honest, and untainted by the judgmental ways of those around you. He knows you crave something more, a life that pulses with thrill and adrenaline, and he’s vowed to give you just that until his last breath.

Reaching the bar tucked away in the back of the kitchen, Jongseong picks up two champagne glasses and hands you one. He watches the bubbles rise rapidly, a sign of the high quality, and it sparks a question in his mind.

“Can I ask something?” he begins, his tone careful.

“Sure,” you reply, your gaze still lingering on the crowd outside.

“I know your dad still has money, but how is he allowed to keep making it if he stole millions? Surely that puts him on some sort of corporate blacklist?”

Before you can respond, a deep, familiar voice cuts through the air, stopping you cold. “Well, actually, son, no one can stop you from making money other than yourself.”

Your eyes widen as you whirl around to face him. Your father stands before you, looking nothing like the man you last saw behind bars. He’s put together, polished, every bit the powerful businessman he once was. His suit is immaculate, tailored to perfection, and his cufflinks gleam, catching the light and silently broadcasting his wealth.

The transformation is startling. Gone is the weary, defeated figure you remember. In his place stands a man who looks like he’s never missed a day in the office, as though the years of scandal and incarceration were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His presence is commanding, and it’s clear that the fall from grace hasn’t stripped him of his confidence - if anything, it’s sharpened it.

Jongseong’s grip on your waist tightens subtly, a silent show of support as your father’s eyes sweep over the two of you. The tension in the room thickens, and you feel yourself shrinking under the weight of his gaze. The confidence you’ve worked so hard to build falters, replaced by a shyness and timidity that Jongseong hasn’t seen in you for a long time. It’s as if you’ve reverted to the woman you were when he first met you - uncertain, reserved, and desperate for approval.

This isn’t the version of you that Jongseong knows and loves. You’ve grown so much since then - becoming strong, confident, and unafraid to live life on your own terms. You’ve finally broken free from the need to be a good girl for your father, embracing the freedom that comes with living for yourself. But that was easier when your dad wasn’t standing right in front of you, his mere presence pulling you back into the shadows of your past.

Jongseong feels a pang of frustration as he watches you retreat into yourself. Everything he’s done - every word, every action - has been for your sake, to help you see your full potential. Even the blowjob he made you give as punishment on the cliff a few months ago was meant to ignite the spark inside you, no matter how harsh or cruel it might have seemed at the time. Because when you love someone, you want to see them thrive, to become the best version of themselves.

But as he watches your father’s influence pull you back, he realises that this whole life - the expectations, the wealth, the need for validation - holds you back from that. Your father is the anchor chaining you to a life you’ve outgrown, and Jongseong knows that as long as he’s around, you’ll never truly be free to be the person you’re meant to be. And that’s what hurts him the most - seeing the woman he loves, who’s fought so hard to break free, being dragged back into the very world she’s been subconsciously trying to escape.

“Who’s your friend?” your father asks, his tone dismissive as he deliberately reduces Jongseong’s role in your life to that of a mere acquaintance. He doesn’t even spare him a glance, focusing instead on you with a look that makes your heart race with anxiety.

“Dad, this is Park Jongseong. He’s my boyfriend, actually,” you reply, but your voice grows quieter with each word, betraying the confidence that usually defines you.

It feels like being hit with a brick as you watch your father’s mean stare shift to Jongseong, sizing him up, looking for flaws, for any reason to disapprove. The tension is suffocating, and you can’t help but feel the weight of your dad’s judgement pressing down on you.

Your father’s eyes narrow slightly, and after a moment of uncomfortable silence, he asks, “How did you two meet?”

You hesitate, suddenly realising that the truth might not be the best option. You should have thought of something more palatable, maybe something like Tinder or Hinge - anything but the truth. Your mind scrambles for a safer answer, but before you can stutter out a response, Jongseong steps in, his hand tightening on your hip as he smiles confidently.

“Prison, actually,” he says, his voice smooth and unbothered.

Your father’s expression barely changes, but the atmosphere in the room grows even heavier. “Oh? And what were you in for?” he asks, his tone as sharp as ever.

Jongseong meets your father’s gaze evenly, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Now, sir, you know that’s the number one rule of prison - don’t ask a man his crime.”

Your father’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, you know mine and you seem to want to dig your nose further into my business. It’s only fair I know yours, considering you’re chasing my daughter.”

Jongseong almost laughs at the word ‘chasing’ as if he hadn’t had you wrapped around his finger from the moment your eyes first met. “Let’s just say my conviction only landed me a few months and not five years.”

You nudge Jongseong’s side sharply, panic flaring in your chest. This isn’t what you wanted. You wanted them to get along, for your father to see the man you love the way you do. But instead, it feels like they’re circling each other, sizing each other up like adversaries in a game where you’re the prize. The tension between them is thick, and you can feel the clash of their personalities reverberating through the air.

Even with the sharpness of Jongseong’s words, your father doesn’t flinch. Instead, he recovers with the kind of ruthless calm that only years of power and manipulation can teach. He steps closer, eyes narrowing as they lock onto Jongseong with cold precision.

“Is that so?” your father begins, voice low and dripping with disdain. “I’ve always believed a man’s past speaks volumes about his future. What exactly does yours say?”

Jongseong doesn’t back down, his grip on your waist firm, almost possessive. “It says I learn, I adapt, and I move forward.”

Your father’s eyes harden, his lip curling into a sneer. “Adapting is for the weak. Real men don’t make mistakes in the first place.”

Jongseong’s smile is icy, his eyes flashing with barely restrained anger. “Is that what you told yourself when you ended up behind bars? Or is that just the lie you’ve convinced everyone else to believe?”

The words hit like a punch, and for a split second, something dark and dangerous flickers in your father’s eyes. But he quickly masks it with a cruel smirk. “I’d watch who you’re speaking to, kid.”

“Oh, I am,” Jongseong replies, his voice steady but laced with venom. He leans in slightly, his gaze unwavering as he adds, “I’m just not a fan of the view, if I’m being honest.”

Your father’s wicked grin tightens, the facade of civility cracking just enough to reveal the simmering rage beneath. He steps back, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Jongseong’s defiance. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? But cleverness won’t get you far in my world. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

Jongseong doesn’t flinch, his expression hard as steel. “I’m not in your world. And I don’t want to be.”

For a moment, the tension between them is palpable, a silent battle of wills that electrifies the air around you. Your father’s gaze flicks to you, his eyes cold and calculating, as if weighing his next move. Then, just as quickly, he turns on his heel, dismissing you both with a scoff.

The confrontation leaves you seething, a turbulent mix of anger and frustration churning inside you. You turn to Jongseong, your eyes alight with fury, the fire of your indignation barely restrained. “I told you this was important to me! Why would you speak to him like that?” Your voice is sharp, quivering with raw, unfiltered emotion that has been simmering beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Jongseong meets your gaze with a hardened expression, frustration and determination reflected in his eyes. “Because, unlike you, Y/N, I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not in front of your dad.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, your eyes widening in disbelief. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, your heart hammering against your ribs, the blood pounding in your ears.

Jongseong steps closer, his voice dropping to a lower, more deliberate tone, yet the weight of his words lands heavily. “Look at yourself. The moment you heard his voice, you shrank. You’re biting your lip like you did when we first met - nervous, unsure. I’m not exactly close with my own family, but I’d say you shouldn’t regress to a scared little girl just because your dad is around.”

His words strike a nerve, a pang of guilt mingling with your anger. The urge to defend yourself rises within you, but the sting of his observations cuts too deep, slicing through your defences. The bitter truth of it, undeniable as it is, leaves you reeling. The moment your father entered the room, all the strength and confidence you’ve painstakingly built crumbled, leaving you feeling vulnerable, like the uncertain girl you once were.

You open your mouth to retort, but no words come. Instead, a flood of frustration and hurt surges through you, overwhelming your capacity to respond. Your hand shakes as you grab your drink, the glass cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the burning turmoil inside. Without a second thought, you down it in one long, desperate gulp, the sharp burn of alcohol barely registering as you push past Jongseong.

Your footsteps are heavy and determined, as you weave through the crowd, making your way out of the extravagant party and up the stairs to find some solace. You hear Jongseong call after you, but you don’t turn back. His brutally honest words, coupled with your father’s oppressive presence, have left you feeling raw and exposed, your every nerve frayed.

You push open the door to your old bedroom, the wood groaning in protest as you force your way inside. The room is a ghost of your past, a time capsule of your childhood preserved in pale pink walls and delicate lace curtains. The bed, still dressed in floral sheets that once seemed so perfect, now feels foreign - too innocent. The room should have felt comforting, like a sanctuary. Instead, it feels like a cage, trapping you in a version of yourself you no longer recognise.

Jongseong is right behind you, his presence filling the doorway as he refuses to let you retreat into silence. “Don’t walk away from me, Y/N,” he says, his voice low but firm, tinged with a desperation you rarely hear from him. “This isn’t how we do things.” He will always make sure that any argument that arises between you is figured out then and there, knowing how unresolved issues lead to cracks in any relationship, and he refuses to let your father be the hole in your boat.

You whirl around to face him, anger and hurt warring within you. “Well, sorry if being called a scared little girl by my boyfriend makes me not want to speak to him,” you snap, the words dripping with sarcasm and bitterness. The accusation still stings, a wound that refuses to heal.

Jongseong steps further into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His expression is stern, but there’s a flicker of pain in his eyes, a crack in his resolve that you can’t ignore. “Then fight me on it,” he challenges, his voice rising with frustration. “But you can’t, can you? Because you know it’s true.”

You shake your head, the denial is quick and sharp. “It’s not, Jongseong. You just wouldn’t get it.”

His laugh is bitter, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. “Why? Because I’m not upper class and drinking my weight in champagne that costs more than your college tuition?” His words are laced with an edge, a defensive wall thrown up to protect himself from the hurt he feels.

You recoil, the accusation striking a chord you hadn’t expected. “You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then what do you mean?” he presses, his gaze unwavering. “You love me for who I am, right? Because class doesn’t matter to you, and you see me for who I am?”

“Exactly,” you reply, the word strong and meaningful. It’s the truth - you do see him, all of him, you saw him as more than his prison uniform, you saw him as more than the scum society makes him out to be, you see him as your equal, not someone below you.

Jongseong takes a step closer, his voice softening as he reaches out to you. “That’s exactly my point. I see you for everything you are, past the good girl and quiet mouse, because you’re more than that. You’re confident, powerful, your mind is so fucking strong, baby. So why on earth are you turning into someone who’s scared to even breathe too loud as soon as he steps in front of you?”

His words pierce through your defences, and you feel a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. “Because, Jongseong, he would be so fucking disappointed in me,” you confess, the admission tumbling out before you can stop it. The weight of your father’s expectations, of the life he’s tried to mould you into, hangs heavy over you. “He told me my entire life to stay out of trouble, to be a good girl, keep my nose clean, and just get through life. If he finds out I-”

You falter, the words catching in your throat. You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, to admit the truth that’s been festering inside you for so long.

Jongseong doesn’t let you hide from it. “You what? Actually found someone who makes you happy and lets you breathe?” His voice is intense, but there’s an underlying gentleness to it, a plea for you to see what he sees. “Y/N, he’s trapping you, and you can’t even fucking see it. That first day you came to see me in prison, you told me you wanted to do something for you, something reckless. You want out of this life, Y/N, and he’s gonna drag you by the feet back into it. He might have gotten out of prison but he’s trapping you in one.”

His words cut through the fog of fear and doubt that’s been clouding your mind, the truth of them undeniable. The life your father envisioned for you - a life of safety, of predictability - has always felt like a gilded cage, something that kept you comfortable, but never truly alive. The past few months with Jongseong have been a whirlwind, a taste of something real, something that makes you feel like you’re actually living instead of just existing. And yet, here you are, retreating back into old patterns.

Jongseong takes another step closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. “I’m sorry but I’m not going to watch the love of my life lose herself, all to please a hypocritical prick.”

The tears that have been threatening to fall finally spill over, and you close your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. He’s right. You hate the mundane, prissy life you’ve been living, the one that your father insists is the only right path for you. The past few months with Jongseong have been the most precious, the most real, moments of your life. But even as you were getting ready for tonight, you could feel yourself slipping back into those old, timid ways, the ones your father would approve of.

You open your eyes, meeting Jongseong’s gaze, and for the first time, you allow yourself to truly acknowledge the truth. The life your father wants for you isn’t the one you want for yourself. And as terrifying as that realisation is, it’s also liberating.

Your voice trembles as you finally speak, the weight of everything crashing down on you. "I’m sorry, Jongseong," you murmur, your words carrying a multitude of apologies: sorry for lashing out, sorry for dragging him to this party, sorry for trying to hide who he is from everyone downstairs who didn’t even deserve to know him, sorry for all of it.

But before you can continue, Jongseong cuts you off, his voice firm but tender. “Don’t you dare fucking apologise, darlin’.” He pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly that it feels like he’s trying to shield you from the world itself. His embrace is warm, strong, grounding - everything you need right now. “I just want you to be happy. It might come off as mean but if I have to thump it into your head by showing some tough love I will.”

His words are more than just a declaration; they’re a vow. A promise that he will protect your happiness at all costs, even if it means standing against your father or anyone else who threatens it. You can feel the fierce determination in the way he holds you, as if he’s ready to take on the entire world if that’s what it takes to keep you safe, to keep you smiling.

You look up at him, your eyes searching his, and what you see there makes your heart swell. He’s not just saying these things - he means them, every single word. “I am happy,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of conviction. The truth of it warms you from the inside out because you know that your happiness isn’t tied to the gilded expectations of your father or the superficial approval of those downstairs. It’s here, in Jongseong’s arms, in the life you’re building together.

His eyes soften at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he leans down. The moment hangs in the air, thick with unspoken emotion, and then his lips meet yours in a kiss that is tender, yet filled with all the passion and love that’s been bubbling beneath the surface. The world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you, anchored in this shared moment of understanding and connection.

The kiss deepens, a slow, deliberate melding of lips that speaks of everything words cannot. His hand finds the clasp that is holding your hair neatly and unhooks it from your strands, his fingers threading through your hair as he draws you even closer, erasing the space between you. There’s a fervent intensity in the way he kisses you, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his love, his frustration, his devotion into this single moment. You respond in kind, your hands sliding up his chest to clutch at his shirt, needing to feel the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips.

Your heart races, matching the rhythm of his as you lose yourself in the kiss, in him. The heat between you rises, a slow burn that spreads through your body, making you dizzy with the intensity of it. Every brush of his lips against yours, every breath you share, feels electric, sending shivers down your spine.

When you finally break apart, it’s only because you both need air, but even then, he doesn’t pull away. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he exhales shakily. Your eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze, and what you see there makes your breath hitch - a raw, unguarded love that leaves you feeling vulnerable yet more cherished than ever.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion, as if the kiss has stripped away all his defences. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N.”

You smile widely, joy and harmony finally flowing through your body for the first time tonight. The tension that had gripped you earlier is melting away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest and settles deep in your bones. In this moment, with Jongseong’s love laid bare before you, everything else seems to fade into insignificance. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in this shared vulnerability, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly free.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly as you take in the man standing before you - the man who has seen you at your weakest, yet loves you with a fierceness that makes your heart swell. Considering how you started as a good girl, falling into the dangerous allure of a criminal, you can’t deny how far you’ve come. The path you’ve chosen has been anything but easy, but standing here now, it feels like it’s all been worth it.

Without another word, you lean in and capture his lips in another kiss, this one more deliberate, more purposeful. It’s as if you’re reaffirming the connection you share, grounding yourself in the reality of his presence. Your hands slide up to cradle his face, your thumbs gently brushing over his cheekbones as you pour every ounce of your love and desire into the kiss.

Jongseong responds immediately, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, as if he’s afraid to let go. The kiss deepens, the heat between you growing as your bodies press together, the boundaries between you blurring until all you can feel is him - his warmth, his strength, his unwavering love.

As the kiss intensifies, you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “Does doing anything for me include having sex with me on my childhood bed?”

The playful challenge in your voice brings a mischievous glint to his eyes. Jongseong smirks, his fingers tenderly wiping away the semi-dried tears on your cheeks, as if washing away the remnants of your earlier sadness. His touch is so gentle, so reverent, that it makes your heart ache with affection.

“Well,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone as he smirks down at you, “I did say anything.” There’s a teasing edge to his words, but you can see the heat in his eyes, the desire that matches your own.

He steps back slightly, his hands moving to the knot of his tie. With a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to loosen it, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of him, his dark hair slightly tousled from your earlier embrace, the way his fingers work the tie free with a practised ease, sends a thrill through you. It’s as if the act of loosening the tie is symbolic, a shedding of the constraints that have held you both back tonight.

As the tie finally slips free, Jongseong lets it fall to the floor, his smirk widening into a full, knowing smile. His gaze is filled with undeniable heat as he reaches for you again, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper against your ear.

“More than sure,” you breathe, your hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as you pull him toward the bed. The thought of being with him here, in this room filled with memories of your past, feels like a reclamation of everything you’ve fought to become.

Jongseong follows your lead, his hands never leaving your body as you guide him toward the bed. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, you sink down onto it, pulling him with you. The look in his eyes, a mix of affection, desire, and something deeper, something primal, makes your pulse quicken.

He hovers over you for a moment, his hands braced on either side of your head as he looks down at you. The air between you is charged, electric, as if every breath, every touch is heightened by the intimacy of the moment. “You’re so beautiful,’” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, and then his lips are on yours again, claiming you with a fierce, possessive hunger.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, and you begin to work them free, your movements impatient, driven by the need to feel his skin against yours. He lets out a low growl of approval as you push the fabric aside, your hands sliding over the smooth planes of his chest, tracing the contours of his body and tattoos as if memorising every line, every dip.

Jongseong’s breath hitches when your hands dip lower, and he meets your gaze with a look that is equal parts love and raw, unfiltered desire. “You really want this, darlin’?” he asks, his voice rough as his fingers brush against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Because you might not be walking straight down those fancy stairs of yours after this.”

You nod, your eyes locked onto his as you answer, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I want you. I need you.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine, Jongseong leans down to capture your lips in another searing kiss. His hands begin to work on the fastenings of your dress with a sense of urgency, his touch both gentle and insistent. He slowly unzips the back of the dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pushes the fabric down.

As the dress falls, it reveals your bare chest, and the sudden chill of the air causes your nipples to harden instantly. Jongseong’s eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight, his breath coming faster as he revels in the moment. His hands, now free of the dress, move to gently cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp softly.

Jongseong’s hands continue to explore your body, his touch electrifying as it moves from your breasts down to your waist. He pauses for a moment, eyes locked with yours, his breath heavy with desire. With a deliberate slowness that makes your pulse race, he hikes up the skirt of your dress, the fabric bunching around your hips as his hands trace the length of your thighs. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your skin tingling everywhere he touches.

As his fingers brush against the lace of your underwear, a soft gasp escapes your lips, the heat between your bodies intensifying. Jongseong’s eyes flicker with a primal hunger, but there’s still a tenderness in the way he touches you, a silent promise that he’s going to take care of you, to give you exactly what you need.

In response, your hands move with equal urgency, fingers trembling slightly as you reach for the button on his trousers. You can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tighten under your touch, the barely restrained power that lies just beneath the surface. The button comes undone with a quiet pop, and you begin to slide the zipper down, the sound barely audible over the heavy breathing that fills the room.

Jongseong lets out a low groan as you push his slacks down his hips, your hands brushing against his hardness through the thin fabric of his boxers. The sensation sends a jolt of desire through you, making you more impatient to feel him against you, inside you. You could start a new religion for his cock alone.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a newfound urgency. As his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, he teases you, drawing out the moment until you’re practically trembling with need. His touch is both gentle and demanding, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You arch into him, your hips pressing closer as he slowly slides your panties down, his hands skimming over your skin in a way that leaves you breathless. Jongseong’s mouth leaves yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“I want them to hear you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, a promise of what's to come.

“Jongseong-” your voice falters, cut off by the way his fingers dip between your thighs, tracing a slow, agonising path along your slick heat. The sound of your own gasp fills the room, and you can feel the tension winding tighter within you, ready to snap at any moment.

He smirks against your skin, a dark satisfaction in the way your body responds to his every touch, every word. "I need to hear you beg for it," he whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he pushes his fingers deeper, coaxing more desperate sounds from your lips.

Your hands find his hair, tugging him closer as you grind against his hand, needing more, needing everything. "Please, Jongseong...I need you," you manage to gasp out, the words barely coherent as pleasure overtakes your senses.

He pauses, his breath hot against your ear as he lets out a low chuckle. "I know you can do better than that, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice laced with a teasing challenge. His fingers press deeper, curling just right, as he waits for you to give him exactly what he wants.

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You moan, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of his touch. Your fingers dig into his scalp as you writhe against his hand, the building pressure almost unbearable.

"Please," you gasp, your voice trembling with need, "I need you so badly, Jongseong. I'll do anything...just, please."

His smirk widens, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he feels the intensity of your plea. "That's more like it," he growls, his voice deep and full of raw desire. He continues to work his fingers in and out of you, his rhythm slow and deliberate, keeping you on the edge.

"You’re doing so well," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear as his lips brush against your skin. "But I want to hear you scream my name, baby. Let me hear how much you want me."

Your chest heaves with each breath, and the pressure inside you becomes almost too much to handle. You nod frantically, your voice a desperate plea as you finally give in, letting out a loud, passionate cry that fills the room. Jongseong’s eyes light up with approval, his fingers and lips moving with even more intensity, pushing you towards the edge with an insistent rhythm.

With a low growl of approval, Jongseong finally sheds the last of his clothes, his eyes locking onto yours with a hungry intensity. He positions himself at your entrance, and the first thrust is a slow, deliberate invasion that fills you completely. A moan escapes your lips, resonating through the room and mingling with the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you.

He holds himself still for a moment, savouring the way you clench around him, feeling every shiver that ripples through your body. His eyes roam over your flushed skin, admiring the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. “You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “So tight around me.”

Gradually, he begins to move, each thrust steady and deep, pushing you further into the realms of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you to match his rhythm. “That’s it,” Jongseong growls. “Feel every inch of me, darlin’. It belongs to you anyway.”

His words ignite a new fire within you, and your body responds with a frenzied energy. You feel every ridge, every curve of him, each thrust driving you wild with desire. “Jongseong,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, “more…”

His pace quickens, becoming urgent and insistent, the pleasure building to a nearly unbearable crescendo. The room is filled with the heady mix of your moans and the rhythmic sound of flesh meeting flesh, each noise echoing off the walls and creating a chorus of raw, primal passion.

With a sudden shift, Jongseong pulls back slightly, his hands guiding you to a new position. He flips you onto your side, his movements smooth and fast, a mixture of desire and intent in his eyes. You roll over and get a surge of anticipation as Jongseong positions himself behind you, allowing him to enter and hit you deeper than before, giving you that ‘more’ you so desperately craved.

Jongseong’s thrusts are now angled upward, hitting a spot that makes you gasp with each push. The sensation is overwhelming, a blend of deep, rhythmic pressure and the intimacy of your shared movements.

“Is this what you needed?” Jongseong asks breathlessly, his voice filled with a rough, almost primal edge as he adjusts his rhythm to match the new position. “Tell me how it feels.”

Your answer comes out as a moan, your words mingling with the sounds of your combined pleasure. “Yes, Jongseong,” you manage to gasp, “It’s so deep, so perfect.”

As he continues to thrust into you, Jongseong’s lips find your neck, his kisses soft and heated against your skin. He trails his mouth up and down your neck, each touch sending shivers down your spine. His breath is warm and tantalising, his kisses growing more insistent as he marks you with his mouth.

You can feel his tongue flicking against your skin, each kiss more urgent than the last. His teeth graze gently, then with a bit more pressure, leaving a trail of kisses and marks that grow darker with each pass. “You’re mine,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice a deep, possessive growl. “I want everyone to know.”

The sensation of his lips and teeth against your neck only heightens the pleasure you're already experiencing. Each mark is a vivid reminder of the passion that drives you both, a tangible sign of the intensity and connection you share. “Jongseong,” you gasp, feeling the combination of his thrusts and the trail of kisses that map your neck. “Please, don’t stop.”

But you mean it in every sense - don't stop fucking you, as though every thrust and every shuddering release is a lifeline. Don’t stop loving you, as though the depth of his affection and the way he holds you close is your greatest comfort. Don’t stop pushing you to be who you are, to embrace every part of yourself, to feel alive in his arms and in his gaze. You want him to keep driving you to discover and explore every hidden part of yourself, to keep challenging and encouraging you in ways you never imagined.

He responds with a low, approving growl, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed fervour. “I won’t,” he promises, his voice rough with desire and a depth of emotion that goes beyond the physical. “Never.”

As he continues to thrust into you, his movements become more intense, more urgent, as if he’s trying to convey his promise with every powerful push. The room seems to pulse with the rhythm of your shared passion, the sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls. Jongseong’s grip on your hips tightens, his touch both possessive and protective as he guides you through the waves of ecstasy.

“Feel every part of me,” he murmurs, his voice a blend of tenderness and raw need. “I’m right here, with you, always.”

The intensity of his thrusts pushes you closer to the edge, each movement sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body. His kisses become more fervent, each one a reminder of his love and his commitment. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, a steady, reassuring presence that matches the rhythm of his thrusts.

“You’re everything to me,” Jongseong says, his voice breaking slightly with the force of his emotions. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you ride the waves of pleasure he’s giving you. His words, combined with the sensation of him inside you and the way his lips leave their marks on your neck, create a powerful cocktail of intimacy and desire. “I don’t,” you manage to breathe out, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and gratitude. “I never will.”

With a final, deep thrust, Jongseong brings you both to the peak of your shared climax. Your body convulses in waves of pure, unadulterated bliss, each shudder and moan a testament to the intensity of your connection. Jongseong’s release follows closely, his groans mingling with yours as he holds you tightly, his kisses now soft and tender against your neck.

As the initial rush of pleasure begins to subside, your muscles gradually unwind, each tremor giving way to a lingering afterglow. The room is filled with the soft symphony of your synchronized breathing, the steady rise and fall of your chests in perfect harmony. Jongseong’s kisses on your neck become gentle, almost reverent, as he trails a tender path of affection across your skin.

You feel his body relax against yours, his warmth enveloping you in a cocoon of intimacy. He pulls your face to his, capturing your lips in a deep, tender kiss that steals away the breath you had only just regained. Lost in the peacefulness of him, you savour the slow, lingering connection, each touch and caress a silent expression of his affection.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Jongseong murmurs against your lips, his voice low and inviting, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod, a contented smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s do it,” you reply, your voice filled with unwavering resolve, knowing that the moment you step out of this place you once called home, you’ll never look back. He grins, playfully nudging your nose with his, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and mischief. “If Emily even looks at you again when we go down there, I might just rip her eyes out.” Jongseong is sexy all of the time but he is even sexier with a post-sex glow, so you know there are going to be some eyes on him, a pair of them just better not be hers.

Jongseong’s laughter fills the room, a deep, resonant sound that carries a note of both joy and possessiveness. He rests his head on your shoulder, planting light, affectionate kisses. “And to think, I was the one who was supposed to keep my cool and not get possessive,” he teases, his voice light and full of warmth.

“You’re not the only possessive one in this relationship, you know?” you reply with a soft smile, a hint of playfulness in your tone. “I just don’t show it as much.”

He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening as he shifts slightly, still buried to the hilt inside you. “I think you should show it more often,” he suggests, his voice low and laced with a delicious hint of provocation. “I’d let you put a collar on me and walk me like a dog if you asked.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you giggle, your laughter mingling with his as the intimate moment stretches between you, the connection deepening with every shared breath.

Eventually, you both begin to move, your limbs heavy with the lingering remnants of passion. The atmosphere shifts as you get dressed, pulling on your clothes with deliberate slowness, savouring the last few moments of solitude before reentering the world outside this room. The extravagant party downstairs beckons, the muffled sounds of music and laughter a distant hum, reminding you of the life you’re about to leave behind.

As you descend the grand staircase, the chandelier above casts a golden glow, illuminating the room filled with elegantly dressed guests, all of whom are focused on your father as he prepares to make a speech. The moment his eyes land on you and Jongseong, he falters, his gaze narrowing as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. His jaw tightens, and though he says nothing, the tension in the room shifts, a subtle ripple that everyone seems to sense. He knows exactly what you’ve been doing.

At the bottom of the stairs, you pause, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your mind. The opulence of this life, the weight of the expectations you’ve carried for so long, all press down on you. For a brief moment, doubt gnaws at the edges of your resolve.

Sensing your hesitation, Jongseong wraps his arms around you from behind, his presence grounding you in the here and now. He presses a tender kiss to your neck, soothing the marks he left there, his lips warm and reassuring against your skin. He keeps direct eye contact with your father, an unspoken challenge in his gaze, before turning his attention back to you.

“Let’s go, darlin’.”

And that’s all the encouragement you need to leave everyone in this room behind, everyone but the man holding you close, promising to love you forever.

_____

You sit across from each other in a worn red booth, the familiarity of the setting wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The walls are adorned with faded photographs and vintage memorabilia, a tribute to a simpler time that feels worlds away from the chaos that often surrounds your lives. The table between you is cluttered with half-eaten plates of food - greasy fries, a burger with a bite taken out of it, and a tall milkshake slowly melting in its glass. It’s a scene of domesticity, of normalcy

“I’m sorry, but not even anything in prison was that disgusting,” he quips, his eyebrows raised in exaggerated horror.

You can’t help but laugh at his theatrics, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. The way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world who matters, even with your food combination choices, makes your heart swell with affection. “Come on, just try it! I promise you’ll love it,” you urge, holding out a fry that you have dipped in your milkshake, your eyes sparkling with playful challenge.

Jongseong hesitates for a moment, then leans forward and takes a tentative bite. His expression shifts from scepticism to genuine surprise as the sweet and salty combination hits his taste buds. His eyes widen, and he breaks into a grin. “See?” you say, triumphantly, as he reaches for more fries, dipping them into the ice cream and stealing them from your plate.

“Get your own, oh my God!” you protest, swatting his hand away with a laugh, though there’s no real annoyance in your voice. It’s moments like these - small, stolen snippets of happiness - that make everything else worth it. The world outside might be chaotic, but here, in this little diner, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other.

But the illusion of safety is fragile. As you’re caught up in the moment, a subtle shift in the atmosphere catches Jongseong’s attention. A police car pulls up outside, its lights off but the engine still running. You barely notice it, too wrapped up in your banter, but Jongseong stiffens, his senses on high alert. His gaze follows the officers as they exit the car with a sense of purpose, their strides firm and unyielding as they approach the entrance.

You feel a prickle of unease, a small knot forming in your stomach as you notice Jongseong’s change in demeanour. His playful smile fades, replaced by a mask of cool detachment, his eyes darkening with the familiar wariness that never quite leaves him. The joy that lit up his face moments ago vanishes, leaving behind the hardened edges of a man who’s been on the run for far too long.

The officers push through the diner’s doors, their presence commanding immediate attention. They don’t bother with the usual pretence of surveying the room; their eyes are locked on your table from the moment they step inside. Your heart races as they approach, each step closer fueling your growing sense of dread.

“Park Jongseong?” one of the officers asks, his tone clipped and authoritative, as they come to a stop in front of your booth.

Jongseong doesn’t flinch. “Who’s asking?” he replies, his voice steady, laced with a defiant edge. He’s been here before, too many times to count, but it never gets any easier. The threat of losing his freedom, of being torn away from you, is always looming, always just one misstep away.

The officer’s gaze sharpens, not missing a beat. “You’re under arrest for theft. Anything you do or say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

Your heart skips a beat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Your mind reels back to the bank job you both pulled off, the thrill of it now tainted by the cold reality closing in around you. Jongseong remains unfazed on the surface, but you can see the flicker of realization in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly.

“Yeah? And what exactly did I steal?” Jongseong challenges, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he stands up, squaring his shoulders, ready for the confrontation. He never liked the police for obvious reasons, but what makes it worse is when they hound him like this when he has done nothing wrong.

The bank you robbed months ago would have already sent him to prison if they knew it was him, and any of the other petty crimes don’t require four policemen and a van.

The officer doesn’t back down, keeping his tone calm but firm. “Mr. L/N has reported his diamond cufflinks missing, and when we searched your place, we found them.”

Your boyfriend lets out a harsh laugh, the sound bitter and incredulous. “Yeah? First of all, you can’t search my home because I don’t have one. Second of all, you need a warrant for that, don’t you?” But even as he speaks, you can see the gears turning in his mind. If your father is behind this, as it now seems, the situation is far worse than he’d anticipated.

Your dad is far more powerful than you could ever imagine. That time in prison only gave him more contacts than enemies, and with Jongseong just another fish in a pond, they will happily throw him back to the sea with the right amount of persuasion.

Before Jongseong can react, the officer pulls out a pair of handcuffs, snapping them around his wrists with practised ease. He struggles, but it’s no use, the cuffs hold firm, and the officers aren’t about to let him go.

“Jongseong!” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice as you rush to him, placing yourself between him and the officers. Your hands cradle his face, trying to keep him grounded, to keep him from doing something reckless. His eyes soften as he looks down at you, trying to offer a reassuring smile, but you can see the worry etched into his features.

“It’s okay, darlin’. They’ve got nothing on me,” he says, his voice gentle, but you both know the truth: if your father is pulling the strings, there’s no telling how deep this goes. He’s trying to comfort you, to make you believe that everything will be fine, but there’s a part of him that’s not so sure.

“But-” you start, only to be silenced by the press of his lips against yours. The kiss is soft at first, a promise of return, but it quickly turns desperate, as if he’s trying to memorise the feel of you, to hold onto this moment in case it’s the last. It’s a kiss that tells you everything you need to know - he’s scared, and so are you.

You can’t lose him.

The officers pull him away, and you watch helplessly as Jongseong is dragged out of the diner and shoved into the back of the police car. His face, once full of life and laughter, is now clouded with that deadpan stare. You run out after him helplessly and fear for what will come coursing your veins.

Through the window, he mouths the words, “I love you,” and you nod, tears blurring your vision as you choke out the response, “I love you too.”

As the police car drives away, taking him with it, the world around you seems to crumble, leaving you standing alone in the diner’s driveway. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, snapping you out of your daze. You pull it out, and your heart sinks when you see the message from your father: “Come home, princess. Be a good girl.”

The words ignite a fire in you, a seething anger that burns hotter with every passing second. You clench your fists, your eyes falling on the ring Jongseong gave you - the promise of a future together, a future you’re determined to fight for. You made a vow to him, to wait for him no matter what, to stand by his side through thick and thin. But before you can keep that promise, there’s one last obstacle you need to overcome.

Your father.

_____

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silcry

1 year ago

Wait I have a neck too so does that mean that milana likes me aswell 😍😍

︲还是你〢 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔

╱ ❛ 𝖶𝖧𝖠𝖳 𝖨𝖲 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝖳𝖮 𝖬𝖤? … 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖠𝖭𝖲𝖶𝖤𝖱

𝖨𝖲 𝖠𝖫𝖶𝖠𝖸𝖲 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ❜ ╲

˚　　 ★₊˚﹟💐' 　,　　　　　.

﹙ context. SET DURiNG ‘ORANGE BLOOD’ ERA ; SEE MiLA iN ‘ORANGE BLOOD’ TRAiLER﹚

' ˚. ✦ ˑ ִֶ ┆ now playing … ❝ 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 ❞

━━ 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗑 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˚ . ┃ SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGED. Mila would dare say that the boys were one such thing — and so was she. Not in the sense that they were stagnant, but in the sense that their hearts were steady in their passion, their kindness, and their unfaltering love. One year, two years, three years going on to four… And after all this time, they were still them.

So it was no surprise that Mila could accurately predict their reaction to her role in the trailer for their new comeback.

The board meeting for ‘Orange Blood’ was one that Mila looked forward to as much as she did any meeting discussing the future of the group. Though their schedules were busy with their upcoming Fate Tour, there was no denying the anticipation of releasing new songs, and the relief of knowing they were still very much in the race. (She considered herself fortunate that they weren’t one of the mistreated artists she’d often heard of, whose comebacks ranged around once a year — if at all.)

The concept was an unexpectedly bright and hopeful one compared to ‘Dark Blood’. Or perhaps, ‘nostalgic’ was the better word — yes, indeed, nostalgia was a perfect word for the concept. And all members of Enhypen were pleased with the proposed title track, B-sides (including Mila and Kiara’s subunit song, ‘Sweet Juice’), and overall aesthetic of the new album. It seemed as if it would be a carefree and fun era free of the drama of its predecessor.

Except, of course, that wasn’t exactly the case.

When the time came for the discussion of the concept trailer, the air of nostalgia surrounding ‘Orange Blood’ instead became replaced by déjà vu.

“Mila has a special part to play,” the director of the concept trailer said. “If you remember from the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer, she was the only one of you nine who survived everything.”

“Right!” Sunoo exclaimed excitedly. “It was one of the things all the Engenes kept making theories about.”

Mila smiled. Amidst all the drama of her jealousy for Sunghoon, Jay and the boys’ interactions with Park Jiwon, she didn’t give much attention to her own role as she should have. But it was still a very intriguing point in the concept trailer for all who watched it.

The director nodded. “That goes to say that means she won’t be with the rest of you for the majority of the trailer.”

A wave of surprise washed over the Enhypen members. Their eyes widened collectively, giving the impression of nine bewildered children who had just learnt Santa wasn’t real.

“And before you ask— yes, she’s still going to be in the trailer. She’ll just have different scenes from everyone else.” Mila smiled when the tension in the others’ shoulders relaxed. She knew they would be the first to jump to her defence if, for some reason, she was excluded.

“After being separated, their paths are obviously going different ways. While Mila is still unaware, you boys and Kiara will be reincarnated as humans…”

The director began to explain the first part of the trailer, which consisted of the boys being taken out of the ocean by Jiwon, followed by the next couple of scenes. Mila became sceptical at one particular scene involving Sunoo’s neck being bitten, but figured it wouldn’t be anything new — after all, Jay had his neck bitten in the trailer for ‘Dark Blood’. (She didn’t want to admit she was a little bothered by it… though she would ignore that feeling for now.)

Then it came to the part where Mila would make her appearance.

“Now, after all this, we finally see what Mila has been up to this entire time. And since she no longer has her friends with her, she is living a pretty lonely life.”

The others made noises of sympathy.

“…But then she finds a handsome young man who falls in love with her, and they live happily with each other as a seemingly loving couple—”

The sound of Kiara choking on her water echoed through the now silent room.

“What’s wrong?” The director asked cluelessly as he observed the group’s reactions. He blinked when he received no response. “Was it something I said?”

Kiara was alternating between laughing, struggling to swallow her water, and shaking her head in denial. Mila supposed it was good that at least one of them seemed amused by the situation — because the other eight of them were certainly not.

Sunghoon — who had been lost in his own daydream the whole time as he stared at a random spot on the table in front of him — suddenly snapped his head towards the director, eyebrows raised and eyes wide as if he had heard something incredibly offensive.

Sunoo’s jaw dropped in a slacked ‘oh’, while he side-eyed Mila beside him, and then slowly looked back towards the director, looking a lot like he did in his iconic reaction towards Seon in the first episode of I-Land.

Jungwon, whose eyes looked devoid of all life, said, “No… Not at all. Please — do go on.”

If his words could convince anyone that he was fine, they would have to be both blind and deaf— because anyone could hear the soulless conviction he spoke with, or the obviously forced smile on his face.

Mila glanced at him before smiling at the director and drawing his attention to her. “So, I’m guessing my scenes will be with the actor then?”

The director cleared his throat. “Well, like I was saying — Mila, you’re looking for love to fill the gap left behind by seeing the others die, and you decide to court this young man as a way of moving on. So your scenes together will be pretty romantic.”

Mila blinked. “I see…”

That was probably the last thing the boys wanted to hear. And honestly, she didn’t feel too comfortable with the idea of acting romantically with another male, even if it was for work. It was awkward to try and replicate the chemistry of two lovers with someone that wasn’t the boys — let alone someone she hadn’t met.

Heeseung had visibly tensed, before rolling his shoulders to avoid seeming too affected. However, the way he pursed his lips and sat forward in his seat gave him away.

Jake’s eyebrows raised as he licked the inside of his cheek, fidgeting nervously by cracking his knuckles while he declined back in his chair. He didn’t take his eyes, instead staring at the sheet of paper in front of him.

Jay hadn’t said or done anything of note, but the set in his jaw and the subtle flex of his hand ok the table served as enough of a sign.

At that moment, Mila felt a hand on her knee, and looked beside her to see Riki with a carefully stoic expression. The only sign that he was bothered was the gentle squeeze he gave her.

Mila discretely reached out under the table to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

Looking for a way to comfort them, she asked, “But we won’t be overly touchy, will we? I mean — we won’t be kissing or anything.”

The director laughed, as if Mila had told him a funny joke. “Of course not! We’d never ask you to do such a thing.”

The boys took this as a good sign, and the air around them immediately became more relaxed. Mila smiled. She thought that would be the end of it until the director continued.

“You’ll just be very close to each other, instead — oh, and you might have to bite his neck.”

Mila, the boys, Kiara, and the manager who had just bought in coffee for the nine of them fell quiet. No one said a word as the director beamed innocently. They were too stunned to speak.

“I’M SURE IT WON’T BE THAT BAD.”

Mila didn’t know who she was trying to convince, but it didn’t seem like it worked on any of the boys — or herself, for that matter. As soon as they had gotten back to the dorms from the meeting, the boys were spread across the living room with silly expressions. (Kiara had, as usual, disappeared to visit the TXT dorms as soon as she could.)

“It will be just like you and Jiwon in the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer,” Mila said, “It’s all professional.”

“But you still got jealous,” Sunoo pointed out.

Mila scrunched her nose. “You really had to bring that back up…”

Heeseung laughed and pinched her cheek. “Don’t mind us, we’re just jealous that you get to act all romantic with someone else. But at the end of the day, we know it’s part of our job. We’ll be okay.”

Jake laughed. “This kinda feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

There was a silent agreement among everyone. Some things really didn’t change…

“Anyway, it doesn’t really make sense for us to mope about it when nothing has happened yet,” Jungwon claimed. “I don’t know about you, but I just wanna appreciate now first.” With that, the leader stood up and held his arms out towards Mila. “Come here.”

Mila giggled and launched herself into his arms. The younger immediately wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head, inhaling her scent. He closed his eyes and the other members chuckled around them.

“Hey, don’t forget me!” Jake said, before adding himself to the hug.

The others followed soon after, crowding around together in the middle of the living room.

“To be honest, I think I’d rather not be there to watch you film,” Jay said quietly. The first day of Mila’s filming happened to be the last day of filming for the boys, so they would all be on set with her when she would be filming with the actor. “I don’t think I’d be able to control my emotions…”

Mila hummed. “I get it. You can’t help it. But at the end of the day, I’m always only yours.” She smiled slyly. “And if you ever feel like reminding, you can always try and sneak a kiss on set.”

“Ayyyyy,” the boys chorused.

Sunghoon chuckled and patted the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”

“You mean ‘our’ girl, right?” Sunoo asked with a raised eyebrow. Everyone laughed, causing Sunoo to smile. With a smug expression, he said, “Well, just for the record— I’m the only one here who gets to film a scene with Mimi. And we get to hug.”

“That’s not fair!” Riki whined. “Why do you only get to film a scene with her?”

Sunoo shrugged sassily. “I guess we’re just destined to be together.”

“Then what about the rest of us?” Jay asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You tell me,” Sunoo said. “I was her first boyfriend and her first kiss, you know. You guys were just add-ons to our relationship.”

“What are you saying?!” Riki exclaimed. “I was the closest to her during I-Land. All of you tried to vote her out of I-Land in the first elimination.”

“I didn’t!” Sunghoon protested with a raised hand. “I liked her better than all of you.”

“Yeah, well, me and Mila were like—!” (Jake crossed his index and middle finger.) “—THIS!”

Heeseung crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I was her first love. So technically, I beat all of you.”

“Are you sure you want to bring THAT up, Hyung?” Jungwon asked the older male with a glint in his eyes. “You know how that went down…”

The others gasped in shock at the young leader’s bold attack. Mila laughed, watching the way Sunoo dramatically put both hands over his mouth with wide eyes.

As bickering started to ensue between the members, Mila shook her head in fond exasperation. She didn’t say anything as they made shots at each other, instead choosing to enjoy watching their bonding moment.

There was something beautiful about these little moments they shared together. The moments that — while fleeting, and easily faded from memory — showed just how well they melded together. How much they belonged.

And she wished more than anything that they would be just as they always had. That this thing they had would never change.

Mila smiled as she rested her chin on her hand. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Later on that night, Kiara — who had been asked for lyrical input for one of the side tracks of the album — had thought to ask Mila for some ideas. She would be one of the few people who knew just how profound the younger female’s thoughts could be, even on the smallest of topics.

“What do you think about the saying, ‘Some things never change?” Kiara had asked.

“I think even though humans change, there are some things they are so connected to that they can’t do things any differently,” Mila said to her.

Ironically enough, Mila’s sentiment was the exact antithesis of the ephemerality romanticised in ‘Orange Blood’. There was no guessing what Mila could be thinking — she always managed to surprise people with her unpredictability. But it was for that reason that Kiara admired her mind so much.

“For example, you and Yeonjunnie-oppa love each other a lot, right? And whether it’s today or tomorrow, if there’s ever a time where you’re not together, you’ll still miss each other. No matter how many times you do it, it doesn’t hurt any less. And as long as you guys love each other, nothing will change, because your reactions and emotions come from the same place each and every time — in this case, your feelings for each other.”

Kiara blinked. She stared for a few seconds before she broke out of her awed state and started nodding.

“Okay… Damn.” She lowered her head as she stared at the paper in front of her, on which she had scribbled notes onto for inspiration. “I like that… I like that a lot.”

Mila beamed. “Is that enough to help you out? Or do you want some more to go off?”

Kiara looked at the younger female with a glint in her eye. Mila tilted her head in confusion, as Kiara smiled — the type one would give their student when they accomplished something significant in their studies.

“How about this?” Kiara asked. “I think you have a better grasp of this than me — so what about you write down lyrics for this that you can pitch to the PD? I don’t think I resonate with this song as much as you do, so it’s for the best. And I feel like you have a lot of good ideas for it.”

Mila furrowed her eyebrows. “But I’ve never written lyrics before… And what if he doesn’t like them?” Mila shook her head. “It would be better if you wrote them.”

Kiara kissed her teeth. “Yah. Aren’t you the one who always says to Engenes that there’s no harm in trying? If you don’t have anything, that’s fine. I’ll just hand in something. But if you do, then why not share it? I’m just saying, it’s not like you to throw away a chance before trying.”

Mila couldn’t deny the logic of Kiara’s words. She would be a hypocrite if she didn’t the didn’t do as she always said — and that wasn’t a standard she wanted to hold herself to. She nodded.

“Fine,” she said with a determined smile. “I’ll give it a try… Just don’t expect too much, okay?“

Kiara laughed. “Okay, okay.”

As she stared at the computer in front of Kiara, where the demo of the track was playing, Mila found her eyes settling on the title, letting it ingrain itself into her brain like a tattoo.

‘Still Monster’, huh?

IT WAS LATE IN THE NIGHT.

Mila found herself at the kitchen table, eating a snack as she scribbled mindlessly on the notepad in front of her. She had her AirPods in, repeatedly playing the demo of ‘Still Monster’ as she wrote whatever came to mind. It had been a day since she was given the task of writing some lyrics for ‘Still Monster’, and ideas flooded her brain like a river — the struggle, however, was finding a way to express them all.

“Noona?” Mila looked up from her notepad for the first time in the past few minutes to see Riki standing there, half-asleep as he rubbed at his eyes sleepily. “What are you doing?”

Mila smiled, internally cooing at how adorable he looked. “I’m just writing something…”

Riki tilted his head curiously. He slowly padded his way over to the table and pulled out a seat next to Mila. Mila watched as he rested his head on her shoulder, while groggily reading the contents of Mila’s notepad.

“‘Still Monster’? That’s one of our tracks, isn’t it?” Riki asked.

Mila hummed. She hadn’t told the boys about it yet because she didn’t want to disappoint them if the pitching didn’t go well, so she decided to keep it to herself until she received good feedback.

But Riki had always been someone she let her guard down with. It was one of the reasons she called him her ‘Peter Pan’: if she was Wendy, he was the one around whom she could always be carefree. As much as they bickered, as much as they fought, as long as it was him, she knew she didn’t have to fear being judged.

“I’m writing some lyrics for it.” She sighed. “But as you can see it’s not really going anywhere at the moment.”

There was a few seconds of silence, before Riki suddenly shot up in his seat. “You’re writing a song?!” he asked, his eyes wide with awe. “That’s amazing!”

Mila laughed as she brushed his hair away from his face. “Thank you… But like I said, it’s not really going anywhere at the moment. I have ideas — I just don’t know how to put them into words.”

Riki tilted his head. “Why not? You’re usually good at talking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mila narrowed her eyes playfully. “Are you saying I’m too talkative?”

Riki shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s not that… I just mean, you always know what to say.” Riki lowered his head, once again resting it on Mila’s shoulder. The strands of his hair tickled her neck, causing her to giggle when he nuzzled his cheek against her. “Remember during I-Land, when I was feeling down after I kept losing battles?”

Mila hummed and nodded. Those days weren’t ones he often reminisced on, but she knew they stuck with them even today — because how could it not? All of them, in some way, were affected by the wreck that was I-Land. Even if they didn’t show it. And for Mila and Riki — who had left everything behind to move to a foreign country where nothing was guaranteed — that trauma only increased twofold.

When the two of them were in Ground, losing chance after chance to go back into I-Land, they had finally reached their breaking point. And by the time the last test of Part One had begun to air, they had to do everything in their power to make sure they would be debuting.

“Do you remember what you said to me when I told you I didn’t think I was good enough?” Riki let out a small chuckle. His hand made its way to Mila’s, his fingers intertwining with hers like two pieces of a puzzle. “You said that people who always see ways to improve will never stop getting better. So, I was good enough — but part of me knew I was meant to be so much more.”

Mila let a smile break through. “That was such a long time ago… You still remember that?”

Riki nodded. “Of course,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I was so close to giving up, but as soon as you said that I realised I didn’t want to stop there.” He sighed as he breathed in Mila’s comforting scent. “You always said the right thing to make me feel better when I was sad… It didn’t matter if your Korean was still kinda bad—”

“Yah!” Mila let out a strangled laugh in her surprise, slapping Riki’s shoulder indignantly.

Riki laughed, before catching Mila’s hand in his own and placing a soft kiss on the back of it as an apology. “I’m just saying — it’s the message that I remember the most, not the words.”

Mila blinked. “That… actually makes a lot of sense.” She looked down at Riki with feigned shock. “When did you become so smart?”

Riki scoffed. “You didn’t even know how to order anything other than jjajangmyeon from restaurants until I taught you — and you’ve been living in Korea for longer than I have.”

Mila gasped. But before Mila could say anything, Riki looked up at her through his lashes. His eyes were like pools of pure water, containing nothing but clear international and sincerity. Mila faltered, watching the way his eyes held hers, the space between them both too far and too close for her heart to handle.

“Just write whatever comes to you. If it’s from you, there’s no way it won’t be beautiful.”

Mila smiled. And without another second wasted, she pressed her lips to his.

That night, the lyrics came as effortlessly to her as breathing. And at the centre of it all was them — the ones who, like the stars in the night sky, brought the light into her otherwise pitch black night.

“These lyrics are really good!” The producer praised as he looked over the final draft that Mila presented to them. “We’ll change some of it to fit the vampire concept — but otherwise it’s perfect.” The producer smiled. “I didn’t know you were this good at writing lyrics.”

Mila smiled. “Thank you… But I had help.”

I owe Riki some bunggeoppang.

The producer shook his head with a chuckle. “Regardless, this is a very good result. If you keep up the good work, you could even be doing songwriting on the side. Good work.”

Mila smiled sheepishly at the praise.

“We’ll make sure to add your name to the credits. After some tweaking, it should be ready for the boys to record the vocals.”

Mila nodded. Since it was a subunit song for the boys — the same way Mila and Kiara had their own subunit — she unfortunately wouldn’t be able to be able to sing it herself. But somehow, Mila didn’t mind it so much. After all, there was something about the boys singing a song that she wrote for them that made her feel giddy inside. The fact that she also asked Riki to keep quiet (in case the feedback wasn’t good) also meant it would be a surprise to them.

She hummed as she left the producer’s office, looking like a giddy high school girl as she walked through the halls, greeting staff with a smile.

Mila couldn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction when they found out. Maybe she would even play a little prank on them, and wait until after everything to reveal the secret…

Mila giggled mischeviously. She was just full of good ideas, wasn’t she?

THE FIRST DAY OF MILA’S FILMING FINALLY CAME, and it couldn’t have been any sooner. The past few days, she had to watch the boys leave without her to go filming, and she had become the personification of a drowned puppy as a result.

Enhypen had already finished recording the singles for the album and the choreography, so the next step was to film the concept trailer. Since she was the only one who didn’t have a role in the first few days of filming, she would stay behind for them — something which she obviously didn’t take well to. The whole time while the boys were preparing to leave, she would follow them around the house with a cloud of gloom hovering over her head.

“Has anyone seen my charger?” Jay asked, while searching through his things.

Mila pouted from behind him and raised a finger to point to the door. “It’s in the living room, on the coffee table.”

“Ah— thanks, Angel.” Jay patted her on the head and left the room to find his charger. Mila sighed and trailed behind him, tugging on the ends of her (or rather, Sunghoon’s) shirt. When Jay found his charger, he packed it in his bag and put his hands on his hips. “Okay, that’s all for me. I’m done now.”

“Same here!” Jake replied as he slung his bag over his shoulder and placed a cap on his head.

Mila continued to sulk silently as the boys announced their readiness one by one. And when they got ready to leave the dorm, she stood at the door, giving each of them a hug before they walked out.

“See you later,” she said sadly as she wrapped her arms around Sunoo’s waist. “Love you…”

Sunoo laughed as he returned her hug, the sound like chiming bells with its gentle tone. He gently stroked the back of her head while pressing his lips to her forehead. And with a caress of her cheek, he pulled away while smiling, eyes dripping with honey.

“Love you too, Byeol-ah. Don’t miss us too much, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“That’s right.” Jungwon latched onto Mila’s waist in a side hug. He rested his cheek against her shoulder and closed his eyes as Mila reached up to pay his head. “We’ll bring snacks with us.”

Mila nodded weakly, sparing a small smile. “Okay…”

Heeseung pressed a firm kiss against her cheek, making a slight smacking noise as he parted. “Love you saurrrr much.”

With that, Mila burst out into laughter.

The other boys gave her sweet goodbye kisses as they walked out the door, before eventually Mila was left alone. And the only thing she could say was sigh and trudge her way to her bed, where she would lie down scrolling through social media to see Engenes’ reactions to her new red hair.

And that process continued until today, the final day of the boys’ and Kiara’s filming, before Mila would film her parts, along with her scene with Sunoo. Since they were relatively simple scenes, they would be able to finish in one day. (According to the director, that was.)

They look like they’re having fun…

Mila smiled as she watched Kiara and the boys running through the field of flowers. Since all the scenes with Sooha were already shot, Park Jiwon wasn’t on the set today, so Mila didn’t get the chance to greet her.

Mila wouldn’t admit that she still thought a lot about the potential bite scene between Jiwon and Sunoo after reading over the script so many times. But in the end, the girl had proven to be very hardworking and talented. It was hard not to like her.

That’s too bad, Mila thought. Maybe next time.

With that Mila smiled and continued to get ready with the help of her staff.

Mila had just finished changing into her dress — a long, white number with spaghetti straps — when she ran into the assistant director, who was standing with someone she had never met before. He was tall and handsome, as well as rather young (he didn’t look much older than herself), and was standing before a makeup artist who seemed to be placing finishing touches on his face.

Mila immediately connected the dots and realised that he was, in fact, the actor she would be partnered with for the trailer.

“Ah, Mila!” The assistant director smiled when he took note of Mila standing there. Mila bowed as he ushered her to come closer. “Just the girl I was looking for! Come here for a second!”

Mila hiked up her skirt and made her way over. By now, the actor finished having his makeup done and made eye contact with Mila when he turned around. The two subconsciously bowed their heads in greeting, while the assistant director smiled and nodded in approval.

“You wanted to see me?” Mila asked.

The assistant said, “That’s right. I wanted to introduce you.” He gestured to the younger man beside him. “This is Park Hajoon, he’s been a model and actor under Hybe for the past two years. He’ll be your partner for today. Hajoon, you know Mila already. Greet your senior.”

Hajoon bowed to show respect before smiling widely. “Nice to meet you, Sunbaenim. I’ve been a big fan of yours since I-Land. I’m looking forward to today.”

Mila flashed a friendly smile. “Oh, really? Nice to meet you too; I’m lucky to have such a dedicated fan. Let’s work hard together, okay?”

Hajoon beamed enthusiastically, his eyes lit up in clear admiration. Mila lowered her head, avoiding looking into his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel bashful — every time she met a fan who looked at her with the same respect that Hajoon did, she never really knew how to react.

The assistant director chuckled and pat the younger male on the shoulder. “Well, since you’re familiar now, why don’t you two start discussing your scene together while the others wrap up their final scene?”

Mila nodded. “Okay, sounds good to me.” She turned to Hajoon with a smile and gestured to the tent not far away. “Shall we?”

“Yes, Sunbaenim!” he responded passionately.

Mila laughed. If he kept up the energy for the entirety of the shoot, he would be able to rival Mila for the title of the set moodmaker. And she couldn’t have that, could she?

“Let’s go!” Mila exclaimed equally as enthusiastically.

With that, the two laughed and walked away. They arrived at the tent, where the staff had already set chairs out for Mila and the rest of the group to rest in when the others were done with their shoot. But Mila and Hajoon would be leaving as soon as they were finished to head towards a cottage not far from where they currently had their equipment set up.

“How much experience do you have with acting?” Mila asked as she read through the script.

“I’ve had small roles in web dramas before,” he replied.

Mila ‘ooh’ed. “That’s impressive.” Hajoon lowered his head and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “In that case, we should be done in under three takes, right?”

Mila said it as a joke. She definitely wasn’t expecting Hajoon to suddenly get all fired up, eyes burning with determination as he held up a fist. “Respectfully, Sunbaenim — but I believe we can do it one!”

Mila’s eyes widened. He really was a bold one, wasn’t he? But that wasn’t a bad thing — not at all. She admired that sort of confidence more than anything. So, at that moment she knew she had gotten lucky with her partner.

“I like it! Okay, let’s aim for one take then!” she said with a smile. Mila then put the script on the table between them and pointed to an outlined scene, where Hajoon would be standing over Mila as she awoke from a nightmare. “For this scene here, I was thinking….”

And just like that, the two became absorbed in their work.

“IS THAT THE GUY?”

The remaining members of Enhypen had just finished filming their final scene together for the trailer and were heading back to the tent while the staff prepared the equipment for moving. They had originally been in high springs, considering they finally finished — but some certain members were immediately cast into a bitter mood as they spotted Mila waiting for them under the tent with an unfamiliar male.

The two of them were peering over paper together, their heads almost touching as they conversed with each other, unaware of the eyes on them.

Sunghoon was the first to propose who the unknown male was. Immediately, the others followed with dejected realisation that he was in fact the man who would be filming very romantic scenes with their girlfriend.

Jungwon pouted as he continued to walk towards them. “Come on,” he said to the others. “We should greet him.”

Regardless of their own feelings, the man hadn’t done anything wrong, so there was no reason to host any animosity toward him. Not to mention, when the positions were switched during the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer, Mila was also expected to be polite with Jiwon, even knowing that the latter would be biting Jay’s neck and very nearly sharing a kiss with Sunghoon.

“Now I know why Mila was so bitter about the ‘Dark Blood’ trailer,” Jake said as he watched Mila and her partner look at each other.

The latter lifted a hand as if to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Logically, Jake already knew it was to practise a scene in the script. But it still irked him nonetheless when he watched the unnamed actor tenderly stroke Mila’s hair, the way he often did.

Jay clenched his jaw. “He’s barely done anything, and I already feel defensive.”

“Why don’t you guys smile a little?” Kiara said with an amused smile. “You can’t scare the poor boy away.”

“Why not?” Heeseung immediately replied. With his doe eyes, one would think he was genuinely asking — though his co-members knew better.

Kiara rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You guys…”

At that moment, as if sensing them approaching, Mila looked up from the script she was sharing with her partner. The boys could practically picture bunny ears standing to attention on the top of her head. Her eyes brightened in recognition and a wide smile crossed her face as she waved enthusiastically.

The boys immediately fixed smiles on their faces, not wanting to worry Mila with their feelings when she was preparing for work. They joined both her and her partner under the tent, causing them both to stand to their feet.

“Congrats on finishing!” Mila applauded the boys with genuine pride. “I was watching you before — you did good. I think the shots will come out nicely.”

The boys become visibly lightened at the praise.

Heeseung reached out and patted Mila’s head, smiling softly at her. “Thank you,” he cooed, eyes full of adoration as Mila giggled under his touch.

The mood completely broke when Sunoo looked at the male beside Mila and said, “I don’t think we’ve met properly.”

Taking the cue, the male actor bowed formally towards the members with a smile. As soon as he straightened his back, he introduced himself confidently. “My name is Park Hajoon. I’m a model and actor under Hybe. It’s nice to meet you all.”

Jungwon was the first to greet him back. “Nice to meet you.”

The other followed suit, leaving Mila to smile brightly on the side. So far, she would say they were doing very well in putting aside their personal feelings — it looked like they didn’t have to worry about much at all. She cleared her throat as she gestured to the script.

“We were just practising for our scene together,” she announced. “Hajoon here thinks we can get it done in one take.”

“That’s good,” Sunghoon immediately responded. By his logic, one take meant that they would be done as soon as possible, meaning that he, Mila, and the other members would be free to go back to the dorms sooner. Hopefully he would be able to steal Mila for some cuddles before the others got to her…

“How’s it going so far?” Jay asked. “Anything you’re struggling with?”

Instead of Mila, Hajoon was the one who replied.

“Not at all,” he said happily. “Mila-sunbaenim is really good at acting, so we already have a good idea of what we’re supposed to be doing.” Hajoon held a thumbs up as he smiled at Mila. “She’s really awesome.”

Sunoo eyed Hajoon suspiciously. He could pinpoint admiration when he saw it, and from the way this Hajoon person looked at Mila, the youngest knew for a fact that he held a lot of it for Mila — and dare he say, perhaps a little more than that…

Mila noticed this and explained, “Hajoon here has been a fan of mine since I-Land. Isn’t that great?”

“Ah, really?” Kiara asked with wide eyes. “Wah, how cute! You must be really happy to be working beside someone you’ve been a fan of for so long, right?” Kiara’s eyes had a hint of sly calculation when Hajoon nodded enthusiastically. She then asked, “What do you think? Is she prettier in person?”

Jake and Jay, who were standing next to Kiara, immediately threw a glare towards the older female, who grinned smugly. The others had their attention pointed towards the male in question, who had suddenly turned redder than a tomato under the sudden scrutiny of everyone.

Mila’s eyes widened as Hajoon dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Eung… She’s really beautiful.”

Kiara laughed light-heartedly and patted the flustered Hajoon on the shoulder. “Well, you’re lucky to be able to act as her boyfriend for one day. Make sure to cherish it while it lasts.”

“Ah— o-okay,” Hajoon stuttered out, turning even redder than before. And this of course, did not go unnoticed.

Kiara hummed, pleased by his reaction. With that, the elder female sauntered off towards her seat, escaping the inevitable fallout that would follow her controversial statement. As soon as she was gone, Hajoon found himself under the scrutiny of seven males who eyed him as if they were predators and he was a rival who appeared randomly in the wilderness.

He supposed he expected this. After all, having followed Mila’s journey for so long, he also got to know her members fairly well. And anyone who knew Enhypen knew that to get to the Princess, they would have to get past her seven knights first.

“So…” Heeseung crossed his arms over his chest. “You must be really happy that you get to act as Mila’s lover, right?”

Before Hajoon could reply, Mila rolled her eyes and gently tugged in Heeseung’s arms to uncross them. “Oppa, stop. You’re intimidating him. People might think you’re having a power-trip over your juniors!”

For good measure, Mila added a pout and used her eyes to plead at him. And just like always, Heeseung’s resolve immediately faltered.

“Okay, okay…” Heeseung turned to Hajoon. The latter immediately noticed that the light in Heeseung’s eyes from when he was looking upon Mila immediately flickered out as soon as they landed on him. Nonetheless, the elder offered a civil smile. “Sorry about that. I’m not trying to scare you.”

“That’s right.” Jungwon immediately followed up the elder’s statement with his own excuses. “The older members just worry a lot — don’t mind them.”

Despite the reassuring words he spoke, the smile on his face didn’t quite reach them.

Hajoon nodded and cleared his throat. “No, it’s okay! I already know that you’re quite protective — but don’t worry, I don’t plan on taking advantage of my role in the trailer today to satisfy my own selfishness. I admire Mila-sunbaenim a lot, but I respect her enough to maintain a professional boundary. I’m here to do my job and nothing more.”

Jay would be the first to admit he was pretty impressed with the actor’s initiative. He was sceptical at first of his obvious infatuation with Mila (call it a man’s intuition), but he did feel a little better seeing his conviction.

The rest of the boys — though some more begrudging than the others — would agree: Even if they were still very much jealous, they could tell the actor was sincere and had a pure soul. There was no reason to dislike him. They slowly started to lose some tension in their bodies.

“Okay, now that we got that cleared up, do you mind giving me and Hajoon some peace and quiet?”

Mila crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow, challenging the boys to keep them any longer from doing their job. The boys, being wise, immediately heeded the silent warning in her voice, which was perhaps the most polite form of ‘Play nice’ that they would get from her if they didn’t act right away.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Mila sighed as the boys scurried away. Shaking her head, she immediately gestured for Hajoon to take a seat. “Sorry about them, they can be a bit much.”

Hajoon shook his head. “No, it’s fine. If anything, I find it sweet that they openly show how much they care about you.”

Mila failed to hold back a smile as she replayed the boys’ reactions to Hajoon’s admiration for her. Even if she didn’t admit it, she did feel a bit giddy seeing them act so protective of her — even if she had to scold them a bit for being too intimidating.

“You know — you’re not wrong there…”

NOT TO BE OVERLY DRAMATIC, but Jungwon felt as if he was kicked in the stomach.

The staff had moved all the equipment to the cottage set for Mila and Hajoon’s scene together, with the cameramen and director being inside to film while the other Enhypen members and staff remained camped outside with monitoring screens. The scene between Mila and Hajoon was only a couple of seconds long, and so wasn’t prolonged agony by any means — but it didn’t make it any less painful to watch.

Jay, Jake and Sunghoon were smart enough not to watch it at all — however the others found themselves huddled around the monitoring screen, eyes fixated on the scene playing out before them.

Jungwon pouted as Hajoon caressed Mila’s face tenderly, the same way he would when they were in the privacy of their homes. (It was at times like this when he wished they didn’t have to hide their relationship from the public eye — so that he could unapologetically show off just how much he loved her.) Mila looked up at Hajoon with glassy eyes, letting him wipe freshly fallen tears from her face with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

At that moment, Heeseung wordlessly turned around and left, leaving the three youngest members alone in front of the scene. Jungwon bit his lip as Hajoon leaned down, his face impossibly close to Mila’s. Riki scoffed, before turning away and following after the eldest of the group. And just like that, only Sunoo and Jungwon remained.

Hajoon’s eyes flickered down to Mila’s lips. Almost reflexively, Jungwon’s hand clenched into a fist. He didn’t even know why he was still standing there — and yet he couldn’t look away, either, even as Mila’s lips slowly drifted towards the crook of Hajoon’s neck.

“CUT!”

The sound of the director’s voice couldn’t have been anything but intervention from the universe — otherwise how could he have known to stop the scene as soon as Jungwon had reached his limit?

“They have pretty good chemistry…”

Jungwon turned to Sunoo in confusion. When he did, he was surprised to see the expression on his face — nothing like the ray of sunshine that fans knew him to be, but one that resembled the sly fox hidden beneath his sweet smiles. Sharp eyes, and a cool expression, complete with a sharp twist of his lips.

Jungwon blinked, but didn’t get to say anything as Sunoo walked away. This hyung…

Jungwon shook his head and turned to the cottage, where he could just make out Mila and Hajoon bowing to the staff through the window. He immediately ran towards the currently empty gazebo, awaiting the moment when Mila would walk out. And as soon as she appeared, he threw himself onto her, pulling her into a hidden corner from prying eyes and clinging onto her like she would disappear if he didn’t.

“Oh— Wonie?” Mila laughed as soon as she realised who had unexpectedly jumped on her, a fond smile breaking out onto her face as she reciprocated the younger male’s hug. “What’s this all of a sudden?”

Jungwon didn’t respond, instead opting to bury his face deeper into her hair. He was too embarrassed to admit he was feeling this jealous over something meaningless, so he could only stay silent and hope Mila didn’t think of him as too clingy when he did.

Mila hummed. “Are you feeling jealous, by any chance?”

Jungwon felt his face heat up at being caught so quickly. But then again, Mila had always been the perceptive type. He gave a nod, causing Mila to giggle softly. Her fingers made their way to the top of Jungwon’s head, threading their way through his soft hair and filling Jungwon’s being with comfort.

“It’s okay to feel that way, Wonie,” she said gently. “When it’s just the two of us, you don’t have to be pressured to feel like a leader, remember? You don’t need to hide how you feel.”

“I know that, but…” Jungwon’s hands travelled down Mila’s sides before they settled around her waist. Jungwon frowned as he pulled away, before eating his forehead against Mila. “Can I have a kiss, please?”

Mila’s eyes widened. “A kiss?”

Jungwon hummed. “You said if I needed reminding that you were still mine, I could steal kisses from you on set… There’s no one here — so it should be fine, right?”

Mila blinked. “It’s fine…”

“Then kiss me,” Jungwon whispered, his eyes glassy and vulnerable as they stared into hers. Mila swallowed nervously as they travelled downwards, landing on her parted lips. Jungwon’s hands tightened their grip on her, his broad shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. “I think I’ll go crazy if you don’t…”

Mila didn’t have to be told twice. As if possessed by his command, she pulled him down by the neck, so that his lips would find hers. The moment they met was like the collision of stars, forming something far brighter, far hotter than what they were on their own, consuming all others around them until there was nothing but the two of them left.

Milan’s hands wandered to Jungwon’s shoulders, smoothing down the length of them with trembling touch. She let out a stuttering breath when his lips parted from hers, taking in a gulp of fresh air — only to come crashing back towards hers once more. This time, more fiercely than before. His hands tightened their grip on their waist for a final time, before he parted for the final time, painting softly for air.

Jungwon let the final tendrils of the flame within him simmer down so that only ashes of his bitterness remained, completely doused by the sweetness of Mila’s mouth. Her face was flushed as she gazed up at him, eyes glazed over, as if lost in a trance — and Jungwon didn’t know if that was her own feelings, or if he was just looking at the reflection of his own eyes. For even if he couldn’t see his own face at that moment, he knew he had fallen far deeper than she had.

“‘How dare you, baby? My heart craves you…” Mila’s eyes widened as Jungwon began to softly sing all-too familiar words, his smooth and sultry voice sending a rush of electricity through her veins. “Even though I’m still a monster…”

“That’s…”

Jungwon chuckled softly. “It’s from one of our songs. ‘Still Monster.’ I don’t know why I thought of it all of a sudden… For some reason it just reminded me of you.”

Mila’s inhaled sharply, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. “Sing more for me,” she whispered. “What else about it reminds you of me?”

Jungwon began to smirk, an all-too familiar glint in the depths of his Cheshire eyes. His hand wonders down the beck of her neck, fingers brushing gently against her pulse. And with a voice all too alluring, he began to sing.

“‘The purity of her neck makes me crazy,’” he began, “‘Throws me into a desire I cannot cope with…”

Just like that, Mila’s lips collided with his once more.

IT WAS TIME FOR MILA AND SUNOO TO FILM THE FINAL SCENE OF THE CONCEPT TRAILER. The moment which Sunoo had been anxiously anticipating — and admittedly, so was Mila.

She hadn’t gotten to see the others after her small rendezvous with Jungwon, and had to go straight into filming again before the sun went down. By now, she had finished filming the opening part of their scene, where Mila was running towards the remains of the burning house, and was now standing there, awaiting the next scene — where Mila would sense Sunoo standing behind her and run up to him to hug him.

As the two waited for the camera crew to get ready for filming, they stood side by side, chatting carefreely.

“You did a good job filming with Hajoon earlier,” Sunoo suddenly said, with a petty undertone in his voice. “It was reallyyyyy believable.”

Mila scoffed. “Yah, are you being petty right now?”

Sunoo raised his eyebrows. “No. Why would I? It’s not like I had to watch you act so lovingly with some other man and make it look so real. I have no reason to be petty.”

Mila huffed and turned her head away, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. “I’m not the one who had some woman’s lips on my neck,” she muttered.

She didn’t want to think about it too much, but she knew that the scene between Jiwon and Sunoo would likely bother her when she eventually watched it. But she already had a dash of bitterness about it after hearing Kiara’s account of the scene, which supposedly was very intense. So Mila figured why not get the pettiness out of her before then. After all, Sunoo was the one who started it.

“What was that?” Sunoo asked.

“Nothing,” Mila replied.

Before anyone could say anything, the director suddenly called for everyone to get into positions. Mila turned away and walked to her starting position, leaving Sunoo to narrow his eyes at her from behind.

He had heard exactly what Mila had said — he just didn’t know it was that big of a deal for her. After all, it was nowhere near the level of what Jay and Sunghoon had with Jiwon in the previous concept trailer. But then again, Mila had always been somewhat possessive in her own way — even if she didn’t admit it.

Sunoo let out a small chuckle as he watched her stamp her way to her spot. Even if she was acting a little bratty, he still found her cute. And what sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t comfort her?

Better yet: What sort of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t upstage the performance between Mila and Hajoon with his own? After all, he couldn’t have anyone thinking a random male was a better fit for Mila than him, could he? His pride as a man wouldn’t let that happen. He formulated his own plan in his head and gave himself a satisfied smile when he decided what to do.

Not long after, the director finally signalled for the filming to begin.

Mila turned around to face Sunoo and had a shocked expression on her face. Sunoo internally admired her acting as her shock morphed into unadulterated joy, a wide smile breaking out on her face as he held out a bouquet of flowers. The familiar chime of Mila’s laughter flooded Sunoo’s ears as she ran towards him, before throwing herself into his arms.

The next part came as naturally as it could have. One could say, Mila and Sunoo didn’t need a script for it. Sunoo lowered his head to bury his nose into her hair. His hand with the bouquet wrapped around her waist while the other found its way to the back of her head.

That was supposed to be it. But of course, it wasn’t. Sunoo’s lips brushed against the shell of Mila’s ear, causing the girl’s figure to freeze in his arms.

Wait, Mila thought. This isn’t part of the script.

Mila stood there frozen as she felt Sunoo’s lips travel down to her earlobe, and then further until it found itself on the bare skin of Mila’s neck. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as his plush lips sneakily found the most sensitive part of her neck — a spot he was very familiar with. Her pulse quickened, and her face started to feel when she suddenly felt his lips part, as if ready to kiss the spot then and there.

The other members, who were watching from the monitor screen a distance away, were immediately taken aback when Sunoo looked at the camera with a sharp glare. He looked like a fox warning anyone who came close to stay away from both him and the woman in his arms — challenging and possessive.

The staff could only watch in awe at the electricity in the air. The tension between the two young people whose seemingly unidentified embrace became something more possessive — more carnal. And at that moment they accepted that, as expected, the chemistry between members of the same group was unmatched…

“AAAAND CUT!” The director yelled.

Mila barely heard his voice, or the following praises that he yelled at Mila and Sunoo, claiming that they were ‘perfect’ together. Instead, she could only shakily part from the hug between her and Sunoo, before searching his face for some sign of what had happened.

She didn’t know what she expected. But it wasn’t for Sunoo to unshaded as she smirked casually at her.

“Still jealous of Jiwon?” he asked teasingly.

Mila swallowed and shook her head. Every time she saw Sunoo like this — so assertive and, dare she say, masculine — she was never able to form words. Just his presence alone made her speechless. “N-no…”

After all, Jiwon wasn’t the woman who felt Sunoo’s lips on her neck in front of so many spectators. She would be foolish to still hold any jealousy towards

the female after that bold display on Sunoo’s end.

“Man, this is so not fair!” Jake complained as he watched the pair stare into each other’s eyes, unplaced by the amount of people around them.

“I want to film a scene with Mila,” Sunghoon said sulkily.

“Next time we choose a concept we should ask about the concept trailers first,” Riki added. “Why does only Sunoo-hyung get to film with her?”

“YAH!” Jay yelled. His voice was loud enough that it carried to where Sunoo and Mila were standing together, causing them to break apart in surprise. “The shoot is over — stop hugging each other already!”

Sunoo and Mila shared a look. Their laughter was so loud the others could hear it perfectly, despite the distance between them.

THAT NIGHT, the members of Enhypen congratulated themselves on a job well done.

They still had a few more things to do for their comeback, but at the very least, they had made it through the concept trailer… Even if it was just barely. They (minus Kiara) had gathered in the living room to both enjoy each other’s company and to rid themselves of the bitterness from today’s shoot. Namely, their jealousy towards Mila and Hajoon’s scenes together.

“I’m so glad that’s over with,” Jake said. “I don’t ever want to see that kind of thing again. Never again, man.”

Mila laughed. “It wasn’t THAT bad.”

“‘Wasn’t THAT bad?’” Sunghoon raised his eyebrows. “The two of you looked like you would have kissed if the director didn’t say ‘cut’.”

Mila tilted her head. “I thought you didn’t watch me while filming?”

“He wasn’t,” Heeseung replied. “But later on, he asked the cameraman if he could watch the scene again, because he wanted to see how bad it was. His logic was that if he didn’t see it in real time, he could control his emotions better — but he still got jealous.”

“You’re one to talk, hyung.” Sunoo crossed his legs on the couch. “You’re the one who scared Hajoon the most.”

The other boys immediately nodded in agreement, convicting the eldest member for his actions.

“But you know… I was kind of embarrassed today,” Jay admitted. “Even though I know it doesn’t mean anything, I still get jealous over it.” Jay sighed. “I wish I had better control over my feelings… Then things would be easier for all of us.”

A thick silence fell over the eight of them. None of them knew what to say, but it was clear that Jay wasn’t alone in his feelings. If Mila was honest, she herself had thought similar things before. And it was because of that she was able to find the words to comfort him.

“Me too,” she said. All eyes turned to her. “We’re only human, so it’s natural that we can’t control how we feel…” She smiled. “That’s why I wrote those lyrics.”

The boys became puzzled. Only Riki — who was there with her though the whole process — knew what she was talking about and smiled conspiratorially. He had been wondering when she was going to tell the others about her contribution. It seemed that she was saving it for this moment.

In truth, Mila had a feeling the boys would react this way. That they would struggle to come to terms with the fact that, for some reason, they were reliving the same memories over and over again. And so, she thought that perhaps this would give them comfort in some way.

“‘It’s as if nothing happened, you look at me with shadowless eyes…’” The boys’ (with the exception of Riki) eyes widened as Mila sang the opening lyrics to ‘Still Monster’. Realisation slowly sank in as she continued to sing, “‘I’m the one who’s been forgive countless times, but I’m still a monster…””

Mila laughed at the shocked expressions on their faces. She shared a smile with Riki before ending her serenade there.

“Obviously the lyrics are a bit more dramatic to suit the concept… but the meaning is practically the same,” she said.

“You wrote that?” Jake asked in awe. “For us?”

“Angel, why didn’t you say anything?” Jay added with a wide smile, amazement and pride all to clear on his features. “That’s amazing!”

Mila smiled sheepishly as the boys began to shower her with praises.

“I didn’t know you could write lyrics… Good job,” Sunghoon said as he patted Mila’s hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Heeseung smiled. “We all are.” He then hummed as he remembers the lyrics to the song, now seeing each line in a new light. “So that’s what they meant… If I knew it then, I probably would have given a better performance.”

Mila laughed. “I doubt you could have done better than you already did. But anyway— those lyrics were basically my feelings about you guys… I mess up a lot, and sometimes I let my emotions get the better of me. But each time you help me become better. And by the end of it, I know that you’re the only ones I’d want to be with.”

“‘What is love to me? Teaching love…’”

Sunoo began part of the chorus, immediately followed by the others who joined in.

“‘In the end, the answer is always, only you.’”

Mila laughed as realisation spread over their faces. “So? What do you think?” she asked. “Do you know what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Awwww, Baby…” Jake sprung into Mila and pulled her into his chest, smothering her with love. “I’m not jealous anymore! I’m just really happy…”

Heeseung giggled like a giddy lovesick teenager. “I’ve never had someone write a song about me.”

“Me too!” Sunoo was beaming so widely, his eyes became descents.

“You did so good, Angel,” Jay praised. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Riki gave Mila a smug look that said, ‘Told you so.’ Mila laughed and shook her head, causing both Riki and Jungwon (who was next to him) to smile at her with all the fondness and adoration that a man could afford their lover.

Sunghoon, who was still in awe, was zoned out, staring blankly at a distant spot in the wall. After a few seconds, Jay lightly nudged his shoulder, completely breaking his trance.

“Yah, are you still there?” Jay asked.

“Huh?” Sunghoon shook his head. “Uh, yeah… I’m just still in shock. It’s hard to believe you wrote it for us… I’m touched. I think I might cry.”

Everyone laughed. Jay roughly pat Sunghoon on the back, and the previous tension in the air became infinitely lightened. After the revelation of Mila’s hidden talents, the boys — curious about hr work — continued to barrage her with questions, while simultaneously praising her to the heavens and back.

But one question in particular had Mila incapable of responding coherently.

“Wait a minute…” Jungwon tilted his head. “Does that mean you also wrote that line?”

Mila hummed. “Which one?”

Jungwon smirked. “You know… The one I sang to you before: ‘The purity of your neck—’”

“Ah!” Mila suddenly shot in from her seat was standing completely still as seven curious eyes turned to her. “No— you see— the thing is… they had to adjust the lyrics a bit to fit the vampire concept! So they… Well… Uh…”

“Ayyyyy,” Sunghoon teased. “Don’t tell me…”

“Wait so you have a thing for our necks?” Jake asked with a tilted head.

“NO!” Mila shouted.

Sunoo raised his eyebrow. “But then what about the lyrics, then?”

“You know, now that I think about it…” Jay pretended to be in deep thought, stroking his chin like a sage would his beard. “She does seem to like neck kisses a lot—“

Mila’s face almost exploded from how hot it was. “SHUT UP AND LET ME EXPLAIN!”

The room was filled with laughter as the busy observed Mila’s flustered state. And really — what else did she expect from them? Of course they had to tease her right after giving her so many compliments….

Indeed, some things never changed.

TAGLiST !

@lanamoonroh @3amstarlight @nikitopia @one16core @onlyuyu @xinikons @clar-iii @shinrjj @nee-issaire @elizalabs3 @lol6sposts @cyberpunksunwoo @woonkies @alaezasmystery235 @haechansbbg @wonsctz @euniceruiz11 @curly-fr13s

DiA READERS

ahhh it’s so good to be back 😭 sorry for the wait guys but finally a full length chapter for you guys after my very long break🤭 (a very long chapter too— almost 10k wowza 🤯) i figured that we had so many hyung like focused fics that the maknae line should have time to shine - which is why this one focused a lot on their interactions with mila 😌 the ending was a bit meh bc i ran out of brain juice so sorry about that — but hopefully you enjoyed it nonetheless!! 🫶🫶🫶

but thank you guys for all your patience though the break and for being sl understanding! love you guys sm you’re the best readers na author could ask for and my break just made me appreciate you all the more MWAH MWAH MWAH 🩷🩷🩷

P.S. obv mila didn’t actually write still monster and credit goes to the actually writer, but let’s pretend 😆 also! for the anonnie who made this request for manly sunoo - hope this satisfied the requirements! 🫶

197 notes View Post

silcry

1 year ago

Fetish III

🩶 Summary: *Read Part I first* Alternate ending to Fetish I, where Sunghoon and his pregnant girlfriend may or may not work things out.

🩶 A/N: *sigh* I was not gonna write this. Even though a LOT of people kept asking and wanted to know what would happen after the baby was born. I just wasn't inspired ig 🤷🏾‍♀️. But @srae-22 gave me ✨️ideas✨️, and I didn't even want the ideas, but she made me have them anyway🙄. So we can all thank her for this. Without further ado, please lmk what you think of "Fetish III"...or "Fetish 1.5...?" Idk.

🩶 Warnings: NSFW, smut, pregnancy, angst, an insane amount of crying, daddy!Sunghoon, dilf!sunghoon,petnames ie;doll, baby, pretty etc, pussydrunkhoon!,breeding k!nk, switch!sunghoon, switch!reader, smacking?, dirty talk, oral (f. receiving),degradation k!nk, humiliation k!nk, dacryphilia, squirting

🩶 Word Count: North of 8.5k

Sunghoon's tired, red eyes met the florescent green numbers on his clock for seemingly the millionth time tonight.

3:56 AM

He turned to gaze out of his frosted glass window, watching tiny flakes of snow accumulate on the pane. Sleep was a luxury. A luxury that he couldn't afford, apparently. Not with the way the guilt and pain were eating away at him. It was easier to deal with during the day. When he could keep himself busy and occupied working and hanging out with his friends. But over time, Sunghoon had come to loathe the nights. When he'd be left alone in his quiet, empty room with what-ifs running rampant through his brain.

I miss my baby...

The thought felt foreign in his brain. How could he miss someone that he had never even been given the chance to meet? Nevertheless, there was a hole in his heart and a void in his life that only his baby could fill.

My baby.

He still couldn't really believe it. Somewhere out there was a tiny piece of him, only about a month old if his math was correct. The only tidbit of information that he'd been given was her date of birth and her name.

Her. My little girl.

He choked on a sob at the thought, eyes welling with regret and shame as he thought back to that night.

"Then go."

He knew she wouldn't. Couldn't. Calling her bluff seemed like a smart idea at first. After all, they both knew how desperate she was for him. He didn't think he could lose, but as she stood up and began gathering her clothes, his hands began to shake. Could it be that he had finally pushed her just a bit too far?

"It's late, darling." She frustratedly tugged her sweatpants on, hopping on one foot as she jammed her socks on as well. "And raining. You're terrible at driving in the rain." Why was it so hard for him to ask her to stay?

"Like you care," She scoffed to herself.

She decided to forgo the bra, yanking his her hoodie over her head and storming out the room without as much as a goodbye. She was doing everything in her power to convince herself that this was it. That she didn't need him anymore. He tugged on his briefs and followed behind at a lazy pace, resting his forearms over the railing as he watched her from the top of the staircase.

He watched as she yanked his door open, heart pounding, as he anticipated her next move. She stood, seemingly frozen for what felt like an eternity. A depraved smile spread across his face as she slowly shut the door, unable to even cross the threshold. Her head thudded softly against the door as her frame shook from quiet sobs.

Just as he was preparing to descend the stairs, she lifted her head, wiped her tears, and opened the door once more. He paused in his tracks, waiting. Watching. And without sparing him another glance, she left. He stood in awe for a few second until his brain switched back on. Barefoot and mostly naked, he ran out into the rain after her, calling out for her to stop. But she didn't stop, in fact she didn't slow down at all, easing her car out of his driveway and out of his life.

Sunghoon shuddered at the painful memory. What had he expected? He treated her like shit. Of course she'd want better for her...for their daughter. She had been a month and a half pregnant then, and determined to do her utmost to protect her baby from any and everything. Including her own father.

The second month of her pregnancy, Sunghoon tried to give her space. He had downloaded an app on his phone that told him information about the different stages his baby was going through as she grew in her mommy's tummy. At two months pregnant, his baby was about an inch long according to the app. He could hardly read another word of it because of the way he'd tear up everytime he even opened the app. But he refused to lose hope.

The third month of her pregnancy, Sunghoon felt like he was suffering through withdrawal. He had never gone this long without talking to her, without sleeping with her, without holding her. Call him selfish, but Sunghoon was missing her wet heat more and more everyday, to the point where he could hardly focus on his work. The app said his baby was the size of a plum. After reading that, Sunghoon had developed a strong aversion to eating plums as much as he liked them.

The fourth month of her pregnancy Sunghoon was desperate. He called her every. Single. Day. Morning, noon, and night. Left voice messages, texts, emails, DM's, everything. She ignored them all. He had found out the hard way that she had the locks changed in her apartment when he attempted to see her and his key no longer triggered the gear. The app said his baby was now the size of an avocado, with working ears and eyes.

The fifth month of her pregnancy, Sunghoon was lonely. The app told him that his baby was now roughly the size of a banana and that the gender could be revealed. He left her voicemails begging her to please, please just let him know whether she'd be having his son or daughter. A stranger texted back to let him know that he had the wrong number. That she had changed her number. To get further away from him.

In the sixth month of her pregnancy, Sunghoon wanted to prove that he could help raise the baby. The app said the baby was the size of an ear of corn now. Despite knowing that she officially wanted nothing else to do with him, he showered her in expensive gifts for the baby. Designer clothes that were way too pricy and flashy for an infant who'd surely not care about the brand name. Cribs that were custom-made and hand crafted of African mahogany. Mobiles that played lullaby versions of his songs. Every single gift was wordlessly sent back to him in the mail, with no return address in sight. While it did piss him off, he didn't let it deter him. Instead, he set up the spare bedroom as a nursery, determined that his baby would get to use all of the things he had bought.

The seventh month of her pregnancy, Sunghoon cried every single day. The app said his baby was the size of an eggplant and now had the ability to dream. He wished desperately that he hadn't been so cruel. That he had treated her with the love and respect she deserved from the beginning because now he was suffering for it, and he couldn't remember anything ever hurting this bad.

The eight month of her pregnancy struck Sughoon with a longing so deep he could feel it in the core of his bones. The app told him that his baby was the size of a squash and was definitely kicking by now. He wanted to feel those kicks, the tiny flutters of little feet thumping against his palm as he massaged mommy's tummy and aided in her nesting. He wanted to spend hours putting together complicated and intricate baby furniture while baby and mommy sat in a rocking chair watching him contently. He wanted to hold mommy close and listen to her cute little pregnant snoring whilst she got as much rest as possible while she still could.

The nineth month of her pregnancy, Sunghoon lost so much weight. He couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. He could hardly breathe in anticipation of the birth of his first child. He sat by his phone constantly, waiting to hear it ring. He couldn't even run to the bathroom or grab a drink from the kitchen without bringing his phone along with him. His friends were so good to him, crashing at his place and keeping him as distracted at they possibly could. The app told him his baby could probably recognize voices and certain songs.

At thirty nine weeks, she birthed his baby. It was four-fifteen in the morning when he received a single text from an unknown number.

Kimora Raè Park

12/23/23

8 lbs 7 oz

Right below the text message was a picture. The love of his life cradling a chubby pink bundle, with a head full of thick dark locks. Two tiny balled up fist with ten little fingers (Sunghoon counted). And a little mole on her face, resting prettily beneath her left eye. Just like his.

The cry that escaped his lungs must have been what woke his friends. They came bursting through his room, bleary-eyed and confused, only to find him hunched over his phone and shaking with sobs. By the time they had gently pried the phone from his grip, they had already put two and two together.

"Did she have the baby!? Is everything alright!?"

He could hardly pull himself together enough to nod.

"S-she had th-the baby." He stuttered shakily.

"Well? What'd she have, hyung? A boy or girl? Did she send pictures?" Niki inquired impatiently.

"A g-girl. You guys, I have a da-daughter!" He cried, feeling such a confusingly mixed set of emotions. They crowded around his phone to see the photo, each of them cooing about how beautiful she was.

"Her n-name...." Sunghoon paused to gather himself. "Her name is Kimora Raè Park. She gave her my family name." His voice cracked as he couldn't hold back his tears from flowing again.

"She did? That's great! Maybe now that she's had the baby, she'll be more open to talking to you?"

That turned out to be wishful thinking at best. Because a month and a half later, Sunghoon was laying in his bed, watching the snowflakes grace his window, still longing to meet his daughter. He listened to the faint sounds of the guys gaming echoing through his house. Even with his best friends practically moving in with him, he still felt so alone. Sunghoon was so sick of crying and feeling helpless. He decided right then and there that he was going to go and meet his daughter, and he wouldn't be returning home until he did so.

He threw his covers back, his pale feet tiptoeing at the feeling of cold hardwoods floors. He ignored it, trudging down the stairs and into the kitchen to grab his keys. The jingling alerted Jake and Jay, momentarily stopping their bickering as they turned their attention to Sunghoon.

They watched as Sunghoon stomped his feet into the closest pair of sneakers and quickly snagged the nearest hoodie he could find.

"Uhhhh...where ya goin', buddy?" Sunghoon hardly even looked in Jake's direction as he answered.

"I'm going to see my baby girl."

"What?! It's like four in the morning, though? Wait, she said you could come over!?"

"Nope." Sunghoon swung the front door closed behind him, taking big strides to his car.

He hardly remembered the ride to her apartment, but he was so excited that he didn't even care. He stood outside her door for the first time in months, feeling queasy, and nauseated and terrified. He knocked thrice, firm but not too loud as it was still quite early.

"Coming!" He heard her muffled tinkerbell voice on the other side, the sound filling his ears and making him feel like his thirst for her had been quenched just a little. He could tell she wasn't expecting him, her wide eyes taking in his frame before she tried to shut the door in his face. He caught it instinctively, peering down into her soul as he held it open.

"Hi." He mumbled sheepishly.

"What are you doing here?! Do you know what time it is?!"

"It's time for me to see my baby."

"Sunghoon. What the fuck? You can't just show up at my door at four-thirty in the morning and demand to see the baby. You need to-"

"It's been a month and a half since she was born! It's way past time I get to see her. You didn't let me come to any appointments, let me see any ultrasound pictures, you didn't even tell me if we were having a boy or girl! I know... I know how you feel about me. About my dependability. But..." The sight of his tired eyes welling was painful for her to see.

"But she's my baby too." His voice cracked. "And it's not fair for you to keep me from being a part of her life. I'm begging you. To put aside the way you feel about me... and let me see my baby." He could see her debating internally.

"I've a-already missed so much. Please." He begged.

Before she could reply, he heard a tiny cry from somewhere in her apartment. He gasped aloud at the sound, his eyes meeting hers again.

"I-is, is that...?" She nodded wordlessly, looking torn between slamming the door in his face and letting him in. Sunghoon was ready to get on his knees and beg at this point. She sighed deeply, shaking her head to herself.

"Come in."

Just two little words. But they had already changed Sunghoon's entire life.

He stepped in, removing his shoes and hoodie at the door.

"Go and wash your hands."

He quickly did as told, hoping she didn't notice how badly his hands were shaking. He sat anxiously on her couch, watching as she disappeared into a small room. He listened to her coo and hum to the baby, the air evaporating from his lungs as she returned with a small, pink bundle. She sat beside him on the couch, turning the baby to face him. Sunghoon could only see her pretty little face for about five seconds before he was once again crumbling in a heap of tears. He hung his head low, hands covering his face, embarrassed at the low sobs erupting from his chest. He was surprised at the feeling of her fingers stroking soothingly through his hair.

"Shhh. It's ok," She whispered. "It's okay, Hoon." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and did his best to stop crying so he could see his baby.

She was perfect.

He could see himself in many of her tiny features, little ears that looked like his, eyes that were shaped like his, and her tiny mole. And he could also see so much of her mommy, her lips, and cute button nose. She was the perfect blend of the two of them.

Sunghoon had never believed in love at first sight until now.

He could have sat there staring at her for the rest of his life. Watching the way her little fists twitched in her sleep. He reached out to run a finger over her chubby cheek, melting at how soft she felt. The gesture caused her to stir awake, big almond eyes settling on him. She stared at him. And he stared back feeling like he was in a trance almost.

"I've been dreaming of this moment since the night you left me." He let slip. She didn't say anything in return, watching as he gently unwound her tiny fist to wrap around his pinky finger.

"She's so pretty." He whispered, more to himself than to her.

"We... we call her Kimmy. That's her nickname." It suited her somehow. His Kimmy.

"Kimmy," He repeated, his eyes never once leaving her face. "And you gave her my last name?" He hoped she'd just ignore the wavering in his tone.

"Of course I did. You're her daddy." His eyes shot up to look at her in awe.

"You have....you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you." She tried to shrug it off, but now her eyes were starting to tear up too.

"Do you want to hold her?"

"Can I?" She placed the baby in his arms, showing him how to support her neck comfortably. She couldn't put into words the way she felt looking at the sight before her. She could see Sunghoon falling in love.

"Here. Keep an eye on her while I run to the bathroom." He nodded absent-mindedly, fixing the pink monogrammed hat on Kimmy's head.

Before he could say anything, she was practically running out of the room to lock herself in the bathroom. She turned the tap on and covered her mouth to muffle the sob that escaped her. Guilty. That's how she felt. The image of a lovestruck Sunghoon cradling his baby for the first time would be burned in her brain forever. The look in his eye, the soft touch he held her with, told her everything. He'd be a good daddy. She had let her hurt feelings push him away and keep him from seeing a piece of him that was just as much his as it was hers. She had treated him so unfairly, so cruel, just as he had done to her. But worse. Because not only was she keeping him from seeing his baby, but she was keeping her baby from having her daddy. She did her best to gather herself, making sure she looked presentable before returning to her living room. She stood in the doorway, watching as Sunghoon quietly murmured to the baby. He was cradling her against his chest, bringing her chubby hand to his lips to kiss. She felt almost like she was intruding as she listened.

"Hi, my pretty baby. Hi, beautiful. I'm your Daddy, and I love you so, so much. I'm so sorry I'm just now meeting you. I promise you, I've thought of you every single day, every hour, every minute since the second your mommy told me about you. Daddy's going to do his very best to take care of you, okay? I'll never, ever leave you again. No matter what. Daddy loves you, baby." He didn't even notice she was watching him until he heard her quietly clear her throat.

"Can I take her hat off?" She nodded, watching as he removed her little hat, fingers stroking over her silky curls.

"She's perfect." He murmured. "Absolutely perfect. How could she have come from us, from me?" She snapped a picture of them whilst he was distracted, smiling at the sight she hadn't even permitted herself to imagine for the past year. He watched his baby's face scrunch for a second before she started to cry.

"She's probably hungry." Sunghoon hated to hand her back the baby. He expected her to go and feed the baby in the nursery, but was completely caught off guard by her tugging the front of her tank top down and feeding her right in front of him.

"Nothing you haven't seen before." She stated. But the sight in front of him, of her nursing his baby certainly was a sight he had never seen. Nevertheless, he was grateful she felt comfortable enough to do so in front of him. He watched intently, listening to his baby's content suckling as she ate. She didn't feed for very long, growing full in a matter of minutes.

"Do you want to burp her?" Sunghoon felt like he was in a dream. He held her up to his shoulder, gently patting her back until he heard a tiny burp. Followed by warmth running down his back.

"Oops. She threw up." He felt her gently wipe his back with a cloth. "I still have some of your t-shirts if you want to change."

"You do?" He asked. She hummed in confirmation.

"I wore your t-shirts my entire pregnancy. They were like a safety blanket for me. My hormones were all over the place. I cried for three months straight when they stopped smelling like you." She admitted sheepishly. Sunghoon could feel his heart doing parkour in his chest.

"Oh. R-really?"

"Yes. I missed you so much. You were the only pregnancy craving that I denied myself." She figured she might as well spill.

"I missed you too. Every day since you left, I've missed you. I'm sorry I was such an ass-" His eyes darted down to his now sleeping daughter. "Such a jerk to you. I don't know what was wrong with me. Why I treated you the way that I did. I'm sure it's difficult to believe, but I really did... I do love you. And I promise I've matured so much this past year."

"I can see that, Hoon."

"Then maybe we can give this another shot? To be a family?"

"Let's just start with you being a part of our lives. I don't want to rush into a relationship right now. My hormones are still totally out of whack, and I really just want to focus on being a mom for now. I'm not saying no. Just... maybe not yet." He was both disappointed and delighted at her answer.

"Ok."

For the next few months, Sunghoon proved himself to be more than reliable. As the baby grew older, they grew closer. It was impossible for her to deny their mutual attraction, their magnetism. Sunghoon had indeed matured. Gone was the immature boy that strung her along for his own selfish game. Replacing him was a man, who took his job off taking care of both her and his baby seriously. Since reentering her life, Sunghoon had made it clear that he planned to take care of both her and the baby physically, financial, and emotionally. He hadn't allowed her to pay for as much as a single diaper since that day he showed up on her doorstep.

Sunghoon was happy to say that he now got to see his baby on an almost daily basis. He was present for every doctor's appointment, listening attentively to every words the pediatrician said and soothing his crying baby after a round of shots. He was willing to change even the gnarliest diapers, not even flinching when it got messy. And he was great at bath time, maybe even better than Mommy was, gently washing and detangling her mess of curls. And he hadn't complained about any of it even once. Whether or not Sunghoon realized it, she (and everyone else for that matter) could clearly see that Sunghoon was born to be a dad. He never stopped telling her how grateful he was to her for making him a daddy. She honestly felt so much relief. Although she was only alone for about a month, taking care of a baby all alone had been hard. With Sunghoon, things were so much easier.

In fact, all of the boys had stepped up and integrated themselves into Kimmy's life in some way. Heeseung and Jungwon could often be found singing to or feeding her. Jay liked to buy her outfits that he thought were cute, and Sunoo had taken to dressing her up and styling her curls in cute but messy pigtails and buns. Jake and Niki were obsessed with her soothing baby scent and could often be seen either cuddling (sniffing) her in their arms or passed out on the couch with her. She was eternally grateful and proud of the village of people helping raise her daughter.

"Sunghoon, where's the bottle warmer?" She asked as she passed him the fussy five month old.

"I think we left it back at your apartment." This part, however, was frustrating. Because of the constant back and forth between his place and hers, she was constantly forgetting things.

"You know..." He started, and she already knew where this was going.

"Don't start, Sunghoon."

"If you'd just move in with me, then all of Kimmy's stuff would be in one place." She huffed irritably.

"Come onnnnn. It's been what, four months since you said we could be a part of each other's lives. And they've been the best four months of my entire life. There's only two things that could make my life any better right now. And one of them is if you and Kimmy finally move in with me."

"And the other?" She asked dryly.

"If you'd marry me. But I don't think you're quite ready for that conversation yet." He was making her heart palpitate, and judging by the grin on his face, he was enjoying it.

"Shut up." She covered her face in embarrassment.

"No," He laughed. "You know I love you, Mommy. I just want to be with you and Kimmy." Sunghoon had taken a liking to calling her either Mama or Mommy and having her call him Daddy. It made him feel like they were a real family. And he also found it to be hot as FUCK, but he didn't think she needed to know that.

"I love you too, Daddy." It had been over a year since he had heard her utter such words. She looked away shyly, startling at the feeling of him gently gripping her chin and turning her head to kiss her. The feel, the taste, of her lips against his was nothing short of bliss.

A dull ache resonated in the pit of his stomach, his dick becoming increasingly stiff in his pants.

"Say it again." He whispered against her lips.

"I love you, Daddy." This time, he could feel his dick twitching in response. It had been so long since she had felt his touch, his kiss, his big dick bullying its way into her guts. The thought was making her head feel foggy.

"I think it's time for Kimmy to have a nap. So that Mommy and Daddy can have some alone time, hmm?" She nodded back, watching as he rocked the baby gently.

"Go to sleep, Kimora Raè. Daddy's been waiting a loooong time for this." She heard him mutter.

Sunghoon's heart ached at the sight of her long, thick lashes fluttering shut over her chocolate colored eyes. He stood, bouncing her gently as he walked to the nursery, hoping with everything in him that she'd stay asleep for at least an hour or two. He laid her down in her crib, cracking the door to her nursery before returning to his spot on the couch.

"Come here, Mommy." She was straddling his lap before he could even finish his sentence.

"Daddy's missed you so much." He groaned at the feeling of her weight settling atop the steel rod in his sweatpants.

"I've missed you too. I was so lonely without you, Sunghoon." The way she was peering into his eyes was making him feel hot and nervous, like it was their first time all over again.

"I was too. So lonely....And finding someone else to fill that void wasn't even an option. I hoped that you'd eventually forgive me so that we could be together again." His voice became airy at the feeling of her lips caressing his jaw. His head rolled back, resting against the couch as she covered his neck and jaw in kisses.

"Of course replacing me wasn't an option. We go through our ups and downs, but at the end of the day... we belong together." She buried her fingers in his hair before planting a deep kiss on his lips. He could feel her desperation in the kiss, her longing for him, her love.

He finally felt whole again.

His arms snaked around her waist, holding her close and fiddling with hem of the t-shirt she had stolen from his closet this morning. He didn't ask, simply tugging the garment up and over her head, pleasantly surprised to see that she was braless underneath and she didn't fight him on it. He could, however, feel her beginning to shrink back a bit, her arms wrapping protectively around her breasts and stomach. She was kind of panicking internally at the thought of him seeing the extra bit of weight around her stomach. The faint stretch marks that pregnancy had left on her skin.

"What's wrong?" He mumbled against her lips.

"I- nothing. It's just.... it's been so long since we've done this. And I don't know, my body has changed a bit since having Kimmy and I'm nervous that you might not find me as attract-"

"Cut that shit out. I'm more attracted to you right now than I've ever been. And any changes that your body has gone through to give me my perfect baby, I love. I promise." He unwrapped her hands from around herseld, replacing them with his own and gripping her in a tight hug.

"In fact," She felt him grip two handfuls of her ass, giving a rough squeeze. "I really like the tiger stripes." He winked, and it gave her the confidence boost she needed.

And Sunghoon wasn't lying. She had always been sexy to him, but seeing the way her pretty body had changed was making his briefs feel entirely too tight for the erection straining within them. The way her breast had grown, swollen and heavy from nursing his baby. Her hips, just a bit fuller than he remembered, making her hourglass shape seem even more defined. The cutest bit of pudge around her tummy, perfect for him to grip while stuffing her stomach full of his dick. And the stretch marks, something Sunghoon had always been secretly aroused by, decorating her skin faintly was enough to drive him wild. All of these changes to her body were his doing because he had gotten her pregnant. He felt a bead of precum oozing out of him at the thought.

Sunghoon approved of these changes, to say the least.

"You're too fucking pretty. So sexy. I dunno, baby. Might not last too long this first time." He grunted, fiddling with the waistband of her lacy boyshorts as she peppered his jawline in kisses.

"It's ok. I won't last very long, either."

"You never do." He smirked.

"Shut up."

"It's the truth. You always cum so fucking fast for me. Because I know exactly how to touch you, don't I? And eat you....fuck you.... which do you want to feel first, Mama?"

"Eat me, Daddy?"

He kissed her sensually, and she felt like she was being seduced by him for the first time all over again. He left a trail of passionate kisses down her neck, taking his time to lick and suck hickeys into every sensitive spot that he could remember she had. She shivered at the feeling of his rough hands groping her tits, his kisses trailing across her heaving chest, a gasp escaping her at the feeling of his sharp canines nipping at her.

"Sunghoon! You have to be g-gentle. I'm nursing so they're so sensitive." She moaned as his nips turned to gentle kisses, his groping into sweet carresses.

"Sorry, Mama. Got a bit too excited. I'll be gentler." He tugged his own shirt off and picked her up easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to his bedroom. He layed her down onto his silk sheets, mentally applauding himself for tidying up earlier in the week. He flicked the light on, groaning aloud as he palmed his thick erection in arousal. He jumped right back in where he left off, unable to stop himself from leaving wet trails of his saliva in the valley between her breast as he slowly made his descent down her abdomen. He stopped to press kisses to her tummy, imagining to himself how pretty she must have looked when she was pregnant.

"Daddy," She breathed anxiously. "You're making me feel nervous. Can we t-turn the light back out?"

"Why? I want to see you, baby. I already told you. I- fuck..." He swore at the wet patch soaking through her panties. "...I don't care what you say, I love how fucking pretty your body is." He left wet kisses all over her stomach as he toyed with her panties.

"Shit. Look how wet you are for me. What a good fucking girl, you are." He grinned wolfishly.

All self conscious thoughts left her head as he leaned in and kissed the wet spot, a clear string of her arousal sticking to his lips. He made a show of licking her juices from his lips before his slender fingers were curving into the waistband of her panties. His mouth watered as her thighs spread wide open for him, practically serving him her dripping cunt on a silver platter.

"I've been fantasizing... dreaming about this pussy for so fucking long, baby. Please. Don't ever make me wait this long to have you ever again."

"I won't, Daddy." She moaned impatiently.

"Good."

Sunghoon had to mentally compose himself. He wanted to ravage her, to push her knees into her chest and fucking eat. Without giving her time to think or breathe or move. But he also wanted to savor the moment. He had worked hard to get back into her good graces and now he was finally receiving his reward.

He settled for placing gentle, teasing kisses all over her smooth mound grinning as she got wetter and wetter until her entire little cunt was a sloppy wet mess. His hair was wild from her shaky fingers tugging at it, plump pink lips glossy from her arousal.

"Sunghoon? Please, Daddy?" She whimpered.

"What is it, Mama? Tell Daddy what you want."

"No more teasing." She whined, watching him rub his sticky lips together.

"Shhh. We've got to be quiet, babylove." She nodded, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Your juicy cunt feels so good against my lips. So wet and slippery. I can feel your little clit throbbing for me, Mama. Want me to kiss it?" Her entire body jerked in sensitivity to his lips grazing her quivering bud ever so gently after teasing her for so long.

"Suck on it?" As soon as he suckled against her bud, his hand shot up to cover the cries he knew would pour out from her mouth. Her warm, thick thighs muffled the sound of her moaning and thrashing against his sheets, her cunt spasming in orgasmic waves. He couldn't help but moan around her bud, watching as the added vibration made her eyes roll back into her head. He could feel her juices dripping down his chin and neck, anticipation filling his veins as the scent of her arousal wafted up his nose. She lay shaking in pleasure as Sunghoon pulled off of her clit with a pop.

"I told you you wouldn't last long." The sight of his dripping face pulled into a smug yet innocent smile made her stomach flutter.

"Fuck.....you." She giggled breathlessly.

"It's not your fault, Mama. I'm an animal when it comes to eating this pretty pussy. You didn't stand a chance." She laced her fingers with his, pulling him until he was hovering over her. She kissed him shamelessly, enjoying the taste of her cunt on his tongue.

He shivered as her cold hands lovingly caressed his sides, trailing down to tug at the drawstring holding his sweatpants up. He let her pull the knot loose, fingers pushing both his sweats and briefs down until she couldn't reach any further. He took over, discarding the clothes haphazardly and settling back between her legs. A desperate groan escaped his throat as his cock settled in between her folds, his hips thrusting instinctively. He ground his length against her slit slowly, face buried in her neck as he grunted in pleasure.

"Fuuuuck, yessssss," He hissed.

"We'll see who's having trouble lasting." She grinned evilly at the sight of his eyes going unfocused and glassy, his jaw going slack as he pushed his twitching tip into her core.

Sunghoon was already pussy drunk. He moaned like an absolute slut as she took every inch of him into her warm, wet pussy. His mind seemed to only have tunnel vision, his sight slightly blurring at the edges as his hips settled against hers. She felt an awesome sense of power at the sheen of sweat now coating his body, the shivers wracking his larger frame.

He only made it worse better for himself when he took her legs and brought them to rest over his shoulders. He rested there inside of her for a moment, before giving a tiny experimental thrust. His head immediately rolled back onto his shoulders and his hips seemed to take over entirely on their own, a fast sloppy pace igniting a burning pleasure in his stomach.

Seeing how sensitive and pussy drunk he was was making her so horny, her walls clenching around his thrusting cock as she moaned.

"Fuck." He groaned. "You've gotta stop clenching around me like that, Doll, or I'm gonna cum so fucking fast."

"I can't help it. I love when you get all desperate and pussy drunk." She teased.

"I'm not p-pussy drunk, ooooh." He moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head, drooling a bit as she clenched even harder around him.

"You're not, Daddy?"

Sunghoon was so gone he couldn't even answer her.

"Good! Fuck! So good. Pussy is so fucking good." She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or not, but the way he was whining was making her cream in excitement all over his length. His gaze lazily trailed down her body, stopping to rest between her legs, enchanted by the sight of his hard dick pistoning in and out of her tight kitty.

And with the way he was balling her up, she was almost worried about him seeing the little rolls of her stomach until she felt him take a firm hold of said rolls and use them as leverage to fuck into her even harder. Sunghoon, on the other hand, had never felt such a strong physical reaction to her body. He loved the extra bit of weight on her. He was fucking her with stars and hearts in his eyes, still in disbelief at how all of these changes in her body came from taking his dick.

"Shiiiiiit. So fucking good, Mama. Love you so fucking much." The thick, frosty glaze encapsulating his dick was making him salivate.

"So fucking wet for me. Tight little pussy is creaming my dick so good." He mumbled to himself. She tugged at his hair until his eyes met hers, biting her lip at the faraway look in his dark irises.

"Mhmm, dick feels soooo good. Love you too, Daddy." His breathing deepened, body going tense.

"Oh f-fuck! Oh fuck! Not gonna last, b-baby. Need to fucking cum." He whimpered.

"Already? My pathetic, pussy drunk baby." She felt his dick harshly twitch within her as he grew more and more sensitive.

"P-promise I'll take care of you. But I need... I...fuck! Please? I need....Mama?" He struggled, stumbling over his sentence as his brain fogged over.

And shit, he might've been embarrassed if it didn't feel so fucking good.

"What a waste of perfectly good dick."

His balls tightened in anticipation, knowing what was going to happen next. She was going to degrade and humiliate him, and it was going to send him flying headfirst into an orgasm that'd surely leave him breathless and exhausted.

"Whats the point of having such a perfect cock if you can't even last ten minutes without cumming like the touch starved whore you are, Sunghoon?"

"Fuck."

"Pathetic. Open your mouth." He opened wide, moaning desperately as she spit into his mouth.

"Now swallow it like a good boy." Sunghoon was starting to get lightheaded, his eyes once again fluttering shut in bliss as she roughly wrapped her fingers around his neck.

"Look at you. Such a pretty slut for me, Sunghoon. Aren't you?"

"Mmmm." He keened.

"Say it."

"I'm- I......." He trailed off. Sunghoon's neck whipped to the side, every hair on his body standing at attention from her smacking him. She gripped his jaw roughly.

"I don't care how close you are to cumming, or how good my pussy fucking feels. If I ask you a question, you answer me. Don't make me ask again."

"I'm a p-pretty slut for y-you." He mewled as the heat burning in the pit of his stomach reached new and unexplored temperatures.

"Yes, you are. Now cum for me, my pretty slut."

Sunghoon felt that heat spread to every orifice in his body, his toes curling, body going rigid as he tiptoed dangerously close to cumming. He dared to let his eyes drop once more between her legs, the visual of their fucking shoving him over the edge. His eyes rolled, seeing stars, as he tried to suppress the wail that slipped past his throat. He could feel his dick lurch angrily within her, aggresively spewing his leak against her cervix. Sunghoon found that the pleasure was so intense that he could no longer continue his harsh thrusts, so sensitive that all he could do was ride out his high buried deep inside of her. He whimpered and whined into her ear, moaning, begging, swearing as he filled the empty space in her womb with more of his nut than she had the capacity to hold. It dripped out around him onto his expensive silk sheets as he shivered through his aftershocks. He collapsed weakly on top of her, gasping as she wiggled her legs down off of his shoulders to rest against his mattress once again. He gripped her roughly to stop her wiggling, rolling his eyes as it made her giggle.

"You ok, Hoonie?"

"Fuck you." Her giggle turned into a full on laugh as he repeated her response from earlier.

"Drives me fucking wild when you degrade me like that. Shit. That felt so fucking good. I literally haven't had a real orgasm since the last time we were together. Unless you count the occasional wet dream." He panted, face buried in her shoulders.

"Really? You haven't even touched yourself?"

"I wanted to at first, but I'd never end up finishing because it never felt as good as when you touched me. Eventually, I just stopped trying." He snuggled into her embrace comfortably.

"Did you touch yourself, Mama?"

"Just about everyday."

"What?!" He gasped, sitting up so he could look at her in shock.

"My pregnancy hormones were insane. I craved your dick like a fiend the whole nine months."

"I might actually cry. I can't believe I missed out on that." He pouted.

"If it makes you feel any better..." He felt an instantaneous twitch in his dick as she kissed a sensitive spot on his neck. "...I don't think that particular craving will ever be fully satisfied. I think I'll always crave you. Always."

"Yeah?" She didn't miss the way his tone had dropped a few octaves.

"Yeah. I love you, Hoon."

"I love you more, babydoll." He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in what was supposed to be a chaste kiss. But the way she was rolling her hips into his reminded him that he still had unfinished business to take care of. So he kept kissing her, his tongue slowly tangling with hers until he started to harden again within her heat.

"Are you hard again already?" She mumbled.

"It's been like a year and a half since we last had sex. I'm pent up." He grunted, melting at the feeling of her lips turning up in a smile against his.

She didn't say anything else, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight as he began to move. He pinned her sweaty frame to the bed with deep, slow thrusts, the sound of juicy wet slaps filling his bedroom. He gripped her legs, pushing her knees into her chest in a mating press. He could tell she liked it by the way she tightened and fluttered around his length, a long drawn out moan escaping her.

"Feel good, Mama?" She nodded quickly, squeaking as he landed a sharp smack to her ass.

"I don't care how close you are to cumming or how good my dick feels. If I ask you a question, you fucking answer me." He teased.

"You're such a fu-fucking asshole." She'd never get tired of that cocky smirk on his face as he leaned over her on his fists. With him leaning over her now, his angle changed and he was now rutting directly into her g-spot causing her to see stars.

"Daddy! Fuck! Just like that, keep fucking me just like that, Daddy, yes!" Her pleasure filled squeals were like an aphrodisiac to Sunghoon. He picked up his pace, slamming into her spot repeatedly, feeling it swell in preparation for orgasm.

"Close, so close!" Her voice cracked as she attempted to close her legs, nearly hyperventilating as he started to suck hickeys into her neck.

"Baby?" Sunghoon groaned.

"Yes! Fuck, yes, Daddy?"

"Let's get married." He grinned into the crook of her neck, feeling the cusp of her orgasm approaching.

"Sunghooooon." She moaned, back arching, pleading to be closer to him as the thought of being his wife made her gush.

"Yeah? You like the thought of that, huh, Princess? Want me to buy you a ring, make you my pretty little wife, hmm? Maybe even give our baby a little sibling-" A startled moan cut him off as her pussy began to strangle his dick.

"Oh? Does that turn you on? You want me to breed you? Put another one of my babies in your tummy?"

"Yes! Please!" She squealed.

"Fuck, I want it to, Mama. Wanna plant my seed in this fertile little pussy and make a baby. Will you let me, doll? Let me get you pregnant again?"

She was unable to answer him as her orgasm washed over her like a wave. Sunghoon felt a wet, warm stream splash against his groin as she squirted. He kept fucking into her, bringing his thumb down to rub slow, firm circles onto her swollen, quivering clit, an arrogant laugh bubbling up from within him as she squirted again for him.

"Who's pathetic now?" He asked landing a quick smack to her still streaming cunt.

"Your dick hungry little pussy is squirting at the thought of taking my cum, but I'm pathetic? And you're still cumming, baby. I can feel your nasty little cunt squeezing around me again. I bet you want to feel me cum inside you again, slut. Like the good little cum dump you are."

He was manipulating her body to keep cumming for him. Again and again until he was satisfied. The idea of being at his mercy, of him having total control over her made her cum a fourth time, tears streaming down her face as she convulsed in orgasmic euphoria.

"Aww, are you crying? My poor girl. Dick is that good, huh baby?" He grunted.

"Those pretty tears... are gonna make me put a baby inside of you." Her birth control didn't stand a chance at this point. When she sobbed out a concupiscent, "Daddy!" Sunghoon followed her right over the edge and into his second orgasm.

His second orgasm was pure carnal rapture. Erotic, intense, libidinous, hot. It started once again as an ache in the pit of his stomach. Turning into a burning fire, the flames licking at every nerve ending in his body, a pleasure so raw that he could do nothing to suppress his cries of satisfaction. He felt like he was dying, she was killing him with the gift of a pussy so perfect he could feel the tears welling in his own eyes. He bit out a harsh swear, hips stuttering as she milked him dry, pussy swallowing and sucking and stroking every last drop of his spend out of him. He gasped and hiccuped and cried out loud enough to wake his entire block, not caring if the entire world heard how good her pussy was making him feel. He came down from his high very slowly, whimpering at the residual waves of pleasure, eyes resting shut as he listened to her ragged breathing.

"You ok, Mama?"

"I'm amazing. You ok, Daddy?" She sighed, dreamily.

"Yes." Actually, for the first time in a year and a half, Sunghoon was more than ok. He pulled out slowly, overstimulating the both of them despite his efforts. He watched contently as she stretched out, practically purring like a cat. Just as he was about to cuddle up to her soft, warm body he heard the baby cry.

"Kimmy's up," He yawned. He pulled his briefs back on before tossing her a t-shirt.

"I'll get her, my love."

She lay in deep thought, listening as he washed his hands before disappearing into the nursery. She heard him soothingly shushing Kimmy, and judging by how long it was taking him to return she assumed changing her as well. It didn't take him long to reappear, handing her the baby and resting his head on her shoulder as he watched Kimmy latch on and start feeding. He twirled her ebony curls around his finger, occasionally stroking her soft chipmunk cheek.

"Sunghoon?"

"Yes, darling?"

"I thought about what you said earlier. And I think it's a good idea... I mean I think we should. I want to."

"You mean what I said about you and Kimmy moving in?" He asked excitedly.

"That's great, baby! I'm so, so happy to hear that. I promise you, you won't regret it, Doll. This is an actual dream come true for me."

"I know I won't regret it. I want that to, but that's not what I was referring to."

"Then what...?" Sunghoon didn't dare let himself imagine she was saying what he thought she might've been saying.

"Let's get married." She stated with the softest, surest smile on her face.

Fin.

A/N: For the ones who had unanswered questions after reading part I of this series, I hope this quenched your curiosity, and was a satisfying read! I'm curious to know your thoughts so please don't hesitate to send me an ask or comment 🫶🏾

LAST UPDATED: 12.22.24

⨯ est wordcount: 20k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 5.4k ⨯ est release date: tbd ⨯ taglist: ask to be on my perma tag list!

playlist ⨯ recommended song: last night i read your diary - gürl She's got me down on my knees I beg, I beg, I, I beg, I beg, please! I want it more than I need And I need it like I need to breathe Like I'm losing my- Choke.

PREVIEW (3.1k):

no warnings apply to the preview, it's just the first couple of thousand words for this fic. aka, the intro and the set up for what will inevitably happen later:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have ever imagined.

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than your own mother was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when she passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going.

It’s the fact that it was a mutual break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people.

Do things without you clinging to him all the time.

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so.

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror.

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is– you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls mean close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now.

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own and you had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face.

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with that after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now though. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words were his way of coping, his way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head when he calls you.

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice.

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it…strange too. Like he’s concerned.

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.”

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life.

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for.

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need.

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number.

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead.

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.”

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. But, you have Heeseung, do you not? You’ve been fine for the most part until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college.

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and getting through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time.

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days.

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course.

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.”

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges.

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak.

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest.

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated.

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes.

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed.

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.”

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he feels happy about it.

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?”

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value.

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.”

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now.

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester.

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay.

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.”

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm.

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone anymore.

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm.

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up.

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college.

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…”

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top.

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t come home in over a year, but I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles.

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes back.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away.

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.”

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does.

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame.

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew it may have been a mistake.

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo. But looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent?

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father.

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention.

Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood.

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. remember that I write within my own triggers, not yours. That being said! Please do show lots of love if this is a fic you're interested in reading! If you want to be tagged, I have a permanent tag list, there are not any separate tag lists for individual fics so keep that in mind. ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

1K notes View Post

silcry

1 year ago

►DANCING WITH THE DEVIL #002 [Sunghoon.]

Part 1 of this can be found here ‣ #001

Abstract: As you had foreseen, Sunghoon and you were back to being strangers. While it was all you had initially wished for, the suddenness and extremity of it was gnawing you from inside as it made you feel as if the past few months had been nothing —that you, too, were in fact nothing. All the while, cases around town continued to rise and in tandem, your recurring night terrors intensified, increasingly blurring the lines between dreams, memories and reality. In the midst of it all, you realised that happenings around town and around you did not add up. The more you dig however, the more you realised how close real danger had always been. How deeply entangled you actually were in the whole web with Sunghoon seemingly being connected to. But is he merely connected to it or has he been the one spinning the web intricately all these while? ‣ [ do check out Part 1 first ]

Genre: vampire!sunghoon | horror | thriller | fantasy | romance // wc: ~10.8k

Warnings: blood; violence; injuries; slight suggestiveness (forced); mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation; toxicity; trauma.

i : back to square one

To say that the past few months had been a whirlwind would be an understatement. With the amount of unprecedented things happening around you and to you, it all felt kind of like a fever dream. It didn’t help that since you’ve submitted your assignment, Park Sunghoon, the campus heartthrob who somehow couldn’t leave you alone even for a second last semester, has suddenly gone cold on you. Let alone just simply greeting you, he had never even casted you a single glance since the last day you guys worked together. In fact, you could be right in front of him or beside him and his eyes and attention would just always be on anyone and anywhere but you. While you had foreseen this, even being the one to have told him that the assignment was the only thing binding you two together, the way it all shifted just overnight made it impossible to quell the distaste you feel within — that you were used. That all those months, labouring over the assignment, sharing jokes and stories, were nothing — that you were nothing.

And just like that, you guys were strangers again.

“Are you sure nothing happened that night?” Sunoo elbowed you, bringing you back to reality. Deja vu, you thought, remembering how Sunoo had asked a similar question just months ago when Sunghoon started pestering you. You were going to answer him but got immediately distracted by whatever he was shooting daggers at. You followed his gaze, regretting it almost immediately, as you saw that it was at Sunghoon and his little clique who were walking from the opposite direction. As usual, while the rest of the clique were being rowdy and playful with one another, Sunghoon, at the back, stayed unperturbed, hands in his pockets, eyes straight ahead — always looking so disengaged and aloof. You don’t even have to worry about him catching you staring because he wouldn’t. It is literally as if you had turned invisible since your last day together.

"What a prick," Sunoo scoffed, somehow feeling victimised on behalf of you as Sunghoon just passed you by without as much as a glance, “Something must have happened to have turned him so cold all of a sudden y/n — I mean he can’t just shift like that overnight. Did you not remember the way he stared at you before this so-called Cold War happen? it was disgustingly dripping with attraction and obsession, you’d have to be blind to miss it. Seriously, tell me the truth, did you guys fight or disagree or—”

“Sunoo, first things first. He was never obsessed with me. You were the one making that assumption. While we did work well together, at best we were just groupmates — not even friends probably. So it makes sense for it all to just revert to square one now that the assignment is over,” you sighed exasperatedly as you pressed the button of the elevator in front of you, “and for the umpteenth time Sunoo, no, nothing happened.”

At least that’s what I think, you thought to yourself as you reminisced about that night you last worked with Sunghoon together. You remembered working until dawn with him. You remembered leaning back against his sofa. You remembered him staring. You remembered packing up. Then you remembered waking up in your own bed, apparently having chronically overslept. You couldn’t exactly remember how you got home though, to be honest. You remembered snippets of it — city lights, sound of cars passing by, the sound of the door, certain warmth and pressure — but it was all a blur. When you woke up, you felt so lightheaded and groggy with your body aching and sore in some places. Then there was this unexplained level of hunger which made you dawn a whole 16” box of pizza to yourself that day — it was as if you had been fasting for days.

The ache eventually subsided and your appetite eventually returned to normal but now and then, you'd get dizzy spells. To make matters weirder, when you went for blood donation not long after, the Nurse deemed you ineligible as a donor as your Haemoglobin count was abnormally low — a drop that was quite alarming given how you have never had such histories and considering how you have not donated nor lost massive amounts of blood recently. It was all very weird but in the absence of any rational explanations, you attempted to make sense of it all by attributing it to how bad your sleeping and dietary habits have become weeks following up to the deadline as you only fuelled yourself daily with 2-hours of sleep and an inordinate amount of coffee.

Then of course there was Park Sunghoon, who went from suddenly having perfect attendance during the last semester to suddenly missing most of his classes this semester. During the few times when you do see him on campus grounds, his attention would always be on anywhere and anyone but you. It eventually got pretty obvious to you that with the assignment submitted, whatever you two had, if it was even worth labelling as friendship, must have ended with it.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Sunoo snapped his fingers, bringing you back to reality, as he continued pressing the elevator button to keep the door open.

“Right sorry, I was just—"

“Spacing out?” he cut you mid-sentence, "you have been spacing out a little bit too much lately, do you know that?"

"This semester's schedule is pretty crazy, I'm probably still trying to acclimatise to it," you lied, plastering a smile when Sunoo suddenly took out a yellow file from his bag, beckoning you to take it. It has the word 'CONFIDENTIAL' stamped across the cover. Absentmindedly, you flipped it open, almost cussing out loudly as grisly shots of dead bodies greeted you, “Sunoo, what the f-” you glared at him beside you, shutting the file close almost immediately when the elevator door opened to the 7th floor of the library.

“Right sorry, should've warned you beforehand —” Sunoo smiled sheepishly, "they’re some shots of the latest victims of our town’s serial killings — hey, stop glaring at me, I didn’t steal them from somewhere — I just, you know happen to beat the police to it—”

“Happened to be?” you stressed, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Fine,” Sunoo grunted, “that genius Ni-Ki somehow managed to intercept the police radio station so we receive all these reports at the same time as the police and well, lucky for us, since they are massively incompetent in responding in a timely manner, we got the privilege of seeing the body and the place first before they do. We’re not that stupid though — of course we kept our distance. Otherwise, we’d be mistaken as suspects instead.”

“You look and sound inappropriately ecstatic about something so grim,” you grumbled, finally opening the file again, grimacing at the grisly shots, “Aren’t you two being too serious about this? I mean, the press and the police are already on it, why meddle further? I get the curiousity but isn't this too much effort and risk?"

“Well, I happen to be serious about getting that scholarship to New York and this, oh boy, this piece, would just throw everyone else's applications down the drain," Sunoo enthused, "and well as for Ni-Ki, that boy loves danger and adventure, he wouldn’t even care about the risks.”

You shook your head dismissively as you flipped through the pages, “but didn’t you say the bodies were drained of blood last time? These are all pretty bloodied. Do you think they might have been done by a different perpetrator?“

Sunoo stopped pacing around and hurried over, peeking over your shoulders, "oh yeah, I almost forgot about that report-"

“Or they could be the same killer actually, just changing up his tactics to throw the police off the trails...” you suggested, seeing Sunoo’s forehead scrunching in deep thoughts as he pored over the idea. You continued, “or a badly-done copycat killing—”

“Oh shit,” Sunoo gasped, snatching the pictures from you, “You are so smart, I didn’t even — I should make a proper timeline, connecting coroner's reports and pictures, maybe—”

“Don’t get too excited though. I’m no criminal profiler, I could be completely off— hey!” you yelped, rubbing your cheek in disgust as Sunoo had just absentmindedly planted a kiss on your cheek.

“Sunoo, stop that! people will get the wrong idea—” you grumbled, trailing off as you looked around the library cautiously. You stopped short when you noticed how, in the midst of people being busy in their own world, someone just across the floor, by the railings overlooking the atrium, was staring right at you. Hands against the railings with gaze so intense, unflinching and unnerving, it was Park Sunghoon. You realised that this had been the first time he had given you any slightest attention since you guys had submitted your work. You scoffed then, remembering all the times he could've been cordial to you before but instead chose to act as if you never existed. You broke the eye contact, walking away towards the side of the floor which would have been out of his field of vision, thinking to yourself, "well, two can play the game."

ii : nightly terrors

It was just supposed to be a quick power nap — one to quench your exhaustion and also to kill time as you wait for Sunoo to finish transcribing his interviews. As your mind flitted through a series of vivid hypnogogic hallucinations however, it all gradually warp into a familiar foreboding scene: a long dark hallway — eerily quiet and hauntingly cold, both ends of which just seemingly leading to a dark abyss. Every time you see this exact scene materialising in your dreams, you were hit with a wave of familiarity — as if you’ve seen the place, as if you’ve been in it. But never could you dwell longer on it because within seconds, you’d always find yourself sprinting towards the darkness, fumbling clumsily to open the door that apparently lay at the end of it, only for it to be slammed close the moment you succeed.

You would then feel yourself harshly spun around, your back slammed against the door. You swallowed thickly as the dark figure loom closer before you, knowing full well what would happen next and bracing yourself for the fate. It was after all the same nightmare that has been plaguing you on most nights since a few weeks ago. Despite the recurrence however, the feeling of terror and dread never subsided — striking you anew each time as you helplessly and passively relive each one of them. You realised however, something was different this time.

For starters, you realised you could feel: the pain on your back, the fabric of the man's sleeves under your grasp, his sharp nails digging onto the skin of your arm — you could feel them all. Then, as you furl and unfurl your fingers as you willed, you were hit by the realisation that unlike in the previous nightmares where you had no control over your body, this time, you were awake — you were lucid.

You wasted no time then, attempting to spin the nightmare around this time. Staring back up boldly at the figure in front of you, you grabbed a fistful of his collar, pulling his face closer to you, "you... I know you don't I?”. You weren’t exactly sure why you said that to him but as the moonlight that had streamed through a nearby window casted a slight glow on the lower part of his face, you realised that that man might really be someone you were familiar with — the paleness, the angular jaw, the plump rosy lips — you had seen it before. Suddenly the smirk on his face widened into a toothy grin, his tongue making a quick swipe across his teeth — the canines of which were abnormally elongated and sharp, they looked almost like fangs.

The next thing you knew he had dipped his head onto the crook of your neck, paralysing you with the vividness of it all: his lips ghosting over your bare neck, his tongue gliding over a particular spot, followed by, you winced, a prick of pain at the exact same spot. Suddenly, the ability to feel felt more like a curse, as you feel him sucking on your neck. While you already expected the move, it had always been painless and sensationless — so with the ability to feel taking the vividness of the dream to new heights, you found real panic and terror rising within you. You lifted your hand and as expected, blood had trickled down your arm but you didn’t expect that it had been dripping down onto the ground, pooling by your feet. You gasped, feeling truly aghast and terrified for your life. You begin thrashing wildly against him, hitting, pushing and screaming for him to get off of you, but alas he was stronger and with every effort and strength you take, the weaker you grew.

You feel yourself slowly giving up when you started hearing someone calling your name faintly, "y/n... y/n!"

The voice grew louder and with each calls, you feel increasingly disconnected from your body with the scene before you slowly getting hazy and blurry.

“Y/N!”

You suddenly jolted awake, gasping and disoriented as the scene moments ago crumbled into something else. Instead of the faceless tall man from moments ago, you found yourself being held by Sunoo. His brows were furrowed in a mixture of worry and fear, his hands tightly grabbing onto your wrists as if trying to restrain you, “Y/N! Are you alright???!”

“I- uh” you croaked as you looked around the room, trying to acclimatised to the environment and confirm that this is indeed the reality, not whatever bloody terror you had just witnessed earlier.

“You were screaming and I tried to wake you up but instead you just thrashed around, almost hitting me and I just had to hold you down like this—" he rambled as he loosened his grip and held your face up, as if to further confirm if you were okay. You mustered a weak smile as you started to calm down a little bit, “I’m sorry. It was a nightmare. I’m fine… it’s just — just a nightmare.”

You lied. You did not feel fine at all and it was not just a nightmare — not when it had been plaguing you almost every night since weeks ago, never ceasing to strike so much dread and terror despite the repetitions. You realised that they had gotten increasingly more detailed and vivid as of late — often revealing something new each time but never had you been awake and lucid in it as you just had. It all felt so real — as if it had been a memory that you unlocked, replayed and relived — rather than just some a trickery of the mind once one falls asleep.

“But, I’ve never seen you so—"

“Hey, it’s just a nightmare… I'm okay, really...” you reassured him, though it kind of felt as if you were trying to reassure yourself too, "I'll just get myself some water. Go continue with your work Sunoo..."

You got up, groggily making your way to the pantry near the big board. As you were dawning a glass of water, your eyes darted cautiously across the clippings of the serial killer news on Sunoo’s cork board, wondering if all the morbidity you have exposed yourself to almost on the daily had wormed themselves deep inside your brain that they end up seeping into your dreams as well. Probably the only plausible explanation, you reasoned with yourself when your eyes keep on zeroing in onto the odd marks on the neck of the victims. In the midst of all the cuts and gashes, some of the bodies featured odd puncture wounds: some double, some single. Like a snakebite or something.

Subconsciously, your finger had travelled up to your neck, grazing a spot where a cut had mysteriously appeared just a few weeks ago. You realised just then that it was around the same spot where that man in your dream had punctured, or rather, bitten into. You winced at the memory, still somehow able to feel the pain despite the fact that it had happened in a dream.

The first time you noticed the cut was the day after the assignment deadline as you were rushing to get ready after having overslept. When you first saw it, it was still red — indicating that it was likely not even 1-2 days old — and about 8 cm long. You remembered being weirded out as you could not remember nor imagined how you could ever accidentally hurt yourself on such a spot, in a such a way. On the elbow or on the knee? sure. But on the crook of your neck? debatable. The more you assessed the cut in the following days however, the more you noticed something odd about it. The cut somehow slightly curved outwards at two points, as if it had run over another wound. Eventually you got busier and forgot about the cut altogether.

Tonight however, you found yourself thinking about the cut again, which by now had fully healed fading closer to the colour of your skin, as you looked at each of the pictures before you, trying to scrutinise the injuries on their neck. Suddenly Sunoo snatched the pictures off the board, “alright, no more dead bodies for you y/n. It was my fault — I didn't even consider how you feel. Perhaps its been too much for you and —”

But you weren't listening anymore. You just watched silently, your mind on overdrive, your finger still rubbing the scar on your neck. “Wait,” you finally said something, grabbing Sunoo’s hand to stop him, “do you have clearer pictures… of the neck perhaps?”

“Well, Ni-Ki is developing the rest so there should be some—" Sunoo mumbled when the door opened.

“Ni-Ki!” you called out, as he emerged out of the photo studio, asking if he has any other pictures. He nodded excitedly as he handed you the bundle of pictures. You grabbed a few clearer ones, trying to confirm your allegations.

“Guys… what if…-“ you mumbled, “I mean, I dont know for sure, these pictures aren't the clearest but... if you look at the neck, some of them have what looked like puncture wounds — some had like two punctures, just like a snakebite, though some only had one. But,” you continued, pushing some of the pictures forward, “wherever there’s only one, there is always another cut either above or under and look over here, wherever there's none, the necks are mostly covered by frenzied slash wounds—” you swallowed thickly, reminded of your own scar, the possible wound underneath, and the dream, "I mean it could just be nothing... but I can't help but think that what if, what if, the haphazard wounds over the neck is meant to mask the puncture wounds?”

"Okay," Ni-ki scrunched his brows as he considered the possibilities, "but why though?"

"Beats me," you shrugged, sinking onto a nearby stool, "it's just the few common denominators that seem to stick to me. Maybe it's the real weapon? Not sure what kind of tool would have inflicted those kind of wounds though—"

"No you're actually right," Sunoo nodded, rubbing his chin as he pored over all the reports of past serial killings that he had read and researched on, "with that kind of mark, it might have been easier for the police to track the killer through the weapon so maybe his game plan was actually to cover it up hence why most of the bodies have slash wounds haphazardly inflicted around their neck. And then perhaps due to timing, carelessness or just pure laziness, he would end up slashing less than usual, making the puncture mark visible on some of the bodies."

"Do you think it could be a syringe or something? maybe to poison or incapacitate them beforehand," Ni-ki wondered aloud, "or I don't know a modified bat with nails at the end—"

"Wait, since y/n mentioned that it kind of looked like a snakebite... what if it isn't a weapon?" Sunoo gasped, gesticulating wildly, "what if it's actually a snake? like maybe the killer, being sick enough in the head, unleashed a snake on the victims first to torture them or something before —"

"What are the odds of a snake biting someone at the same exact spot though?" Ni-ki raised his brows.

"You're right," Sunoo pondered, "unless they put a bait on that exact spot — wait, what if..." he gulped, lowering his voice to a whisper, "vampires?"

"Get out of here Kim Sunoo," Ni-Ki scoffed, shaking his head dismissively.

What Sunoo said definitely sounded sillier but somehow instead of shooting the idea down immediately, like you would have, the scene from your recurring nightmare flashed across your mind, sending shivers down your spine: the abnormally long canines; the bite on your neck; and the blood dripping. You furrow your brows, trying to quell feeling of dread rising within as you touched the scar on your neck, while your eyes travelled from one pictures to the other, looking at the puncture marks on their necks.

"Vampires are stuff of fables but," you murmured, "there might be some relevancy there. What if it's a fetish or a quirk? maybe he's obsessed with vampire lores or maybe is psychologically ill and believe that he is one — either way, what I'm trying to say is that maybe he's trying to mimic it. But," you sighed, frustrated with your own train of thoughts and deduction, "why cover it then? if you're obsessed with the thought that you are a vampire or something, wouldn't you want to leave it as it is? rather than cover it?"

Sunoo and Ni-Ki nodded in agreement, debating it further, but you weren't listening to any of it anymore as your mind became increasingly preoccupied with more questions — all of which were now directing towards yourself: the cut, the dream, the maniac from before.

"— let's stake at the harbour next," you hear Ni-Ki said and Sunoo agreeing almost immediately. Without missing a beat and without any further thought, you interrupted, "I want in."

“Really?” Sunoo’s face lit up momentarily before suddenly schooling his expressions, “- wait no, you’ve already brushed with a potential serial killer like two months ago. I am not going to put your life in danger.”

“Sunoo, you know how I feel about unsolicited paternalism,” you grumbled, arms folding, “like you said last time, I’m smart — I would be a great asset to you both. Like just now.”

“You’re in,” Ni-Ki pushed Sunoo aside and extended his hands to you, “if we are serious about this, we need her intelligence. I mean even both of our brains can’t analyse and observe the pictures with such insight even though we have been on this case for months.”

You grinned triumphantly, taking in Ni-Ki’s hands proudly before sticking your tongue out at Sunoo. Sunoo opened his mouth to protest but closed it immediately, finding himself wrought in a mental dilemma. He groaned, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine. But you must stick to us whenever we go to the field okay? Must. I know you always go off alone and slip away but not this time.”

“Geez, okay mum,” you mocked, before offering your hand to him, beckoning him to shake it.

You weren't exactly certain what you wanted to gain from this, if not just further troubles. But something about the case and whatever has happened around you seemed to have a link. It might just be something psychological — maybe the fear from the serial killings has insidiously seeped into your mind, making you dream and hallucinate to the point of connecting dots that weren't there in the first place. Still, sitting around and letting yourself be haunted by your own nightmares and news headlines wouldn't do any good, you thought. If anything, at least by tagging along with them, you can either confirm or dispel whatever nagging presumptions you had about whatever has happened around you and to you.

Little did you know just how messy the whole thing was. How true the saying 'ignorance is bliss' is.

iii : confronting the elephant in the room

When results for the last semester was finally released one fine afternoon, all eyes were on you. After all, the assignment that you and Sunghoon had laboriously worked on for Macroeconomics was awarded the only ‘A’ in the module — in fact, the only A awarded ever under the module after like two years.

“Well, that’s what happens when you ask two of the brightest in the faculty to work together,” Sunoo elbowed you, smiling sheepishly as you stared agape at the screen, still in disbelief at the grades displayed on your dashboard.

The joy was however short-lived as you were called to the Professor’s room not soon after. Apparently he was so impressed by the paper, he had invited you and Sunghoon to co-author a paper with him for an upcoming annual conference. As Sunghoon did not show up to his office, the professor had instead asked you to pass the message to him — the task of which you wished you could have outsourced given how Sunghoon does not seem so keen to engage with you anymore. And you, too, weren't exactly ecstatic to engage with him again either.

Hence why you were fiddling nervously with your pen the next morning in lecture as your eyes darted back and forth from Sunghoon, who was seated at the other end of the lecture theatre, to the brochure about the upcoming conference in your hand — your mind set ablaze with dilemma. You really did not want to talk to him again that you even considered turning down the professor’s offer altogether — but that would be irrational, you thought. It was after all an opportunity like no other that could embellish your resumé further, making you more attractive to prospective employers. Then alternatively, you had also considered to just not pass on the message and tell the professor that you haven't seen him or something. But you thought that would be selfish of you. After all, it was a joint paper so he deserves the credit and opportunity as much as you do. Hence, setting your ego aside, you decided to run after him after the lecture ended.

You didn’t really have any expectations. At worse, you pictured him scoffing and saying “no thanks”. But well, he exceeded your expectations in the worse way possible. The moment you caught up to him, he did not even bother to act friendly or civil. There were no ‘hi’, no smile — nothing, just an expression of disinterest if not, annoyance, as he took his EarPods off. You begun explaining about the Professor's offer and the upcoming paper as you handed the brochure to him, though the lack of interest which was apparent on his face, and the lack of response were making you feel increasingly unnerved and embarrassed. As if that wasn't enough, he further made you feel worse as he interrupted mid-way, handing the brochure back, “and? am I supposed to be happy for you? or interested in this? what?”

“Uh—" you were rendered speechless for a moment, “I mean, the professor is inviting us to both co-author a paper together again. It was after all our work. You deserve the credit as much as-"

“I couldn’t care less,” he exhaled sharply, “about this or about you taking the credit. Do whatever you want. I’ve done my job as your partner last time.”

You swallowed thickly, his words searing more than you expected, “Well, that’s fine then. I was just passing the message on.”

“Anything else?” he asked with an eyebrow raised, looking as if you had just wasted his time. You never felt so much anger and embarrassment both at the same time. “Okay then,” he shrugged, taking your lack of responses as a 'no' and walking past you.

You scoffed. You weren’t really confrontational as a person but the way this all spun was really bothering you more than you wanted to admit — like a nagging sensation at the back of your neck. The way he acted was almost as if you had done something wrong. But what? You thought to yourself. Suddenly Sunoo’s question and your memory lapse rang in your mind.

“Wait-" you called out, “Did something happen that night?”

You can see him heaving a huge sigh before turning around to answer you, “Unless you mistook or misunderstood something, nothing happened. We finished our work and you went home alone. I didn’t bother sending you. That’s it. You didn’t expect-”

“I don’t. I just-“

“Look, this happens all the time,” Sunghoon said icily, biting his lower lip in annoyance as he took a few steps towards you, “I show any slight attention and people just mistake it as interest, expecting it to bloom into something,” the corner of his lips lifted into a conceited grin, “don’t tell me the Great Wall is buckling too? Let me spell it out to you then —“

“Park Sunghoon,” you cut him off, the anger starting to rise within, “let me spell it out to you because you seem to be blind with narcissism and conceit. I have my suspicions about you from the very start — that you were attempting to toy me around, for whatever reasons. I guess it must have failed since you are mistaking any slight cordiality from me now for attraction when I am just passing on the message and being nice to you for old time's sake. Get off your high horse.”

With that you turned on your heel and walked away, the anger growing with every step you took, the crumpled paper in your grasp being the only evidence of it. That being said, you couldn't help but shake the feeling of familiarity of it all — the way your words rolled so effortlessly out your mouth made it feel as if you had spoken something similar before. But that’s impossible, you thought, no one would have riled you up so much to the point where you had to deliver such a scathing remark.

Most importantly, even if someone had, you should have remembered it.

iv: entanglement

It was not supposed to drag on this long and this deep, Sunghoon thought to himself as he watched you over from their hangout room on the 5th floor of the North Wing. You were sitting by the fountain, rambling animatedly to your ‘guard dog’, making big gestures in between coffee sips while occasionally doubling-over in a fit of laughter with him. Sunghoon hated how he knew exactly what coffee you had ordered and how he could hear your laughter clearly in his mind as if he was right there next to you.

Despite the crowds forming and dispersing around you, his eyes have not left you for even a fraction of a second and if looks could kill, you'd have long been dead. Most frustrating of all to him was how with every smile you flashed, he could feel his heart raced and throbbed — though he wasn’t certain if it had been due to attraction or annoyance because both had indeed been what he had been feeling towards you as of late.

Sunghoon has always been at the top of things. That is, until you came along and become a prominent part of his daily life since the start of the project. While he may have orchestrated the whole thing to turn the way it did: for you to become partners with him; for him to save you; for you to spend inordinate amount of time alone with him; and so on — you were unexpectedly like a force of nature, somehow managing to hold on your own and throw everything into disarray. It always left him feeling so confused, vexed and intrigued — conflicting emotions of which he hadn't felt in a long time — always making him torn over his next moves as he could never know if he wanted you or if he wanted to end you.

He exhaled sharply as he turned around, leaning against the large stained windows and recounting the events from that night. He didn't really plan on biting you that night but everything was indeed unfolding perfectly: you were alone with him, in his own house, with your guards down. For someone like you, who to him, has been unnecessarily a handful to deal with compared to his other victims — this was perfect as he could just quickly and cleanly sink his fangs into you and then have your body disposed somewhere. That was how simple he pictured it to be when he first set sights on you, visions red with contempt. But little did he know, in spending too much time trying to orchestrate everything perfectly from the beginning just to get back at you in the worst way possible, he was getting caught in the intricate web that he himself had spun for you.

And that night, things definitely went awry. Or rather, I went awry, he corrected himself as he threw his head back against the stained windows, suddenly reminded of the way his lips locked with yours in a drunken stupor.

The thing about Park Sunghoon is that he does not kiss — not initiating it, at least. After all, the guy love mind games and power. He relishes in the way people get so easily enchanted and manipulated by him, eventually buckling into submission without him having to lift a finger, begging for him no matter the cost. It was such a pathetic yet satisfying sight, he always thought, the way they beg for him not realising that they were basically begging for their death. Besides, as he always told Jay and Jake, both of whom never tire from indulging in such carnal pleasures, he was getting too old to be beating around the bush so he’d just cut the bullshit and go straight for the neck. As if you’re any older than us, Jake would mock.

That is not to say he would reject it completely though. His being aren’t completely deprived of carnal desires so when someone does initiate it, he wouldn't protest nor reject it, letting himself just enjoy it, treating it like an appetiser before the main course. Though again, unlike Jay and Jake, he wouldn’t drag it on.

That is, until you happened. You were supposed to be just another pawn — something to fuel his desire for mind games and power. Instead however, you were able to hold on your own, engaging him so effortlessly in a field that he had always trounced in, keeping him on edge and making him wanting more. He found himself obsessed with you and he sought to entrap you further in his games but little did he know that in digging a trench so deep for you to fall into, he himself might end up getting stuck in it. He can now see just how far he had miscalculated his steps and underestimated you, for when the opportunity to get back at you, like he always wanted, materialised that night, he did the stupidest thing he could have ever done — he went for your lips.

The moment his lips enveloped yours, he completely lost all sense and rationality. Like on a drunken stupor, he was so intoxicated by the softness of your lips, the warmth emanating from your body, and the way you struggled against him — it was sickly electrifying and intoxicating and as if karma was getting back at him, he remembered feeling how he was the one getting lulled this time. Then there was the smell and taste of your blood on your lips that sent him delirious but somehow, instead of triggering his predatory feeding mode, it fuelled his hunger for something else.

He remembered then hungrily pressing his lips onto yours, his hands roaming up your body, making you gasp, providing him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, as he slipped his tongue in. He remembered how the harder you protested and rejected him, the more it riled him up, finding himself trailing sloppy kisses down your neck — something he’d hardly have to nor want to do to another human. As he grabbed a fistful of your shirt, tugging it just slightly just off your shoulder, he could feel the desire to sink his fangs into you morphing into something different: it was no longer just to simply satisfy his thirst and get back at you — he wanted to mark you; to own you. That was probably why he was able to stop himself from depriving you completely off of your life source that night despite how much you had riled him — because it wasn’t just hunger alone.

He could feel his throat now constricting and his gums tingling — an indication of the hunger rising within and his canines extending into its full length — as the memory reawaken his thirst for your blood, for your lips, for you in its entirety. “Fuck,” he cussed breathily, burying his face in his palm, suddenly seeing red again. He hated the hold you seemingly have on him. He had been all over the place the past few weeks trying to prove otherwise: meeting other girls; drinking other blood; and most importantly, avoiding and being an arse towards you. He was afterall, no slave to emotions nor desires — he could overcome this easily, he thought to himself. Yet, here he was, tormented from just mere memories of you. Oh, he wanted you so bad.

“You have got to nip this in the bud,” he suddenly remembered Heeseung cautioning him one night, “otherwise, it will grow into an Achilles Heel Sunghoon.”

He turned back around, dizzy, as he propped his hand against the window, letting his head rest against it as his eyes, which were growing luminescent by the second, zeroed in on you. "I shouldn't have let you live..." Sunghoon breathed, feeling the gravity of Heeseung's words.

v: minefield

With cases rising and no leads, your campus had started to impose a curfew, threatening punishments for those found to be out and about in campus grounds beyond 8 PM. Though you found the newly-imposed curfew ridiculous, given how there had been no cases in campus, you still abide it nevertheless. Except for tonight that is, as you had left your iPad at Sunoo’s club room. Since it had all the important notes from today’s lecture for an upcoming pop quiz, you decided to risk it — breaking into the South Wing and quickly retrieving it before the Student Union members, who would’ve usually be out patrolling by then, could catch you.

Having quickly retrieved your iPad, your were just about to climb out the window which you had used earlier when you heard a bloodcurdling scream from the upper floors, followed by what sounded like furnitures getting knocked over. For any normal person, that should have been the queue to run off. But then again, you had always been an outlier with a sense of curiousity and fearlessness that is bound to get you into trouble one day — at least that was what Sunoo had always said about you.

“Screw it,” you muttered to yourself, walking away from the window towards the staircase. As you climbed up, you can start to hear the cacophony of noises more clearly: scuffles; furnitures dragged; and some sort whimper or cry. Then it all stopped and suddenly, all the courage left you. In the dark and stillness of the night, all you could hear was your quickening heartbeat and all you could see was either empty corridors with your own reflection on the windows.

You backed away, feeling deeply unsettled by the sudden stillness when suddenly, before you could descend down the stairs to go back, you felt yourself getting yanked back by a bony arm that has wrapped itself around your neck, putting you on a chokehold. You thrashed wildly, clawing on the person's arm, as your croaked, "le-let me go-go. I will scre-scream. There are people down the-there—"

You could hear the person scoff, seeing through your lie easily. You feel the person's other hand coming up to your head, stroking your hair tauntingly, while whispering menacingly close to your ears, “dead people can’t scream though.”

The next thing you knew, you had been pushed down the stairs, tumbling down several flights of stairs, twisting your hand in the process and hitting your head a few times against either the cold ground or the foot of the railing, before coming to a stop by the next landing. You groaned in pain as the back of your head hit the hard cement. Despite the pain, you forced yourself to sit up, panicking as the figure walked down the stairs at a glacial pace. Silhouetted, you can see that the person was a lanky man, with rather wide, yet bony shoulders. Terror-stricken, you were ready to take off again but to your horror, you couldn't feel your legs. You looked back up, horrified, when the man's lower face got momentarily illuminated as he passed by a window, his thin lips curving into a wry, malevolant grin, his tongue then making a quick slow swipe over his bloodied lips. You were immediately reminded of your nightmare.

You mustered every bit of strength left to back away, powering through the pain through gritted teeth but it was futile as he soon loomed over your body. Grabbing a fistful of your collar, he dragged you towards the end of the landing, letting you hover over the next flight of stairs, giving you a slight swing before letting go. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

It never came.

You felt nothing and saw nothing for a prolonged period of time, before it all suddenly warp into a convoluted mess of dreams, nightmares and bad memories — like an acid trip — then abruptly ending when your eyes flew open.

Still in an almost fight and flight state from both the experience and the dream, you immediately sat bolt upright — panicking as you looked around the room, thinking you were still at the mercy of the murderous man. Instead of the darkness however, the room you were in was so brightly-lit and brightly-painted. Instead of the cold hard tile underneath you, you were sitting on a soft white bed. Instead of a murderous man holding you by the collar, Lee Heeseung, the Student Union President, was the one next to you, eyes lit up in relief as he exclaimed, “Finally! You’re awake!”

You stared at him blankly, confused. Is this a dream, you ruminated, was last night a dream?. After all, the Student Union President, who is also part of Sunghoon’s clique, would be the last person you would ever expect to be by your bedside.

“Where am I- why are y-" you stuttered, trying to fight through the pain that you felt all over. Heeseung quickly reached over, gently grasping both of your shoulders to prevent you from toppling over, “careful, you took a really hard tumble—"

Instinctively, you recoiled away from his touch, still traumatised over whatever you had experienced earlier.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to - you just, you look like you were about to faint...”

You swallowed thickly, still eyeing him in suspicion, “what... what happened?”

“Well, we were patrolling and found you passed out cold at the base of the stairs,” he answered, his gaze remaining soft as if trying to reassure you that he meant no harm and that you are safe now, “brought you here immediately. Thankfully, the doctor said you suffered no major injuries, just a lot of bruises, a twisted wrist, and a small cut by the side of your head. You might have knocked it against the railing or something. But fortunately, they’re just some superficial cuts. Not sure how lon-“

“the girl —" you interjected as the memories from just now, or last night, or whenever the incident actually was, came rushing through, “what about the girl?”

Heeseung stared blankly at you, “what girl? you were alone.”

“No I wasn’t,” you replied adamantly, “there— there should have been someone else-"

"There were no one else, we-"

"No, there was a girl somewhere in the building. She- she screamed! I heard it!" you protested, "I followed the voice and then suddenly," you croaked, losing your voice, "suddenly there was this man and he-" you swallowed thickly, struggling, as your head begin to spin, "he pushed- he pushed me!"

"y/n, but there-"

"No listen, he pushed me!" you insisted, looking up at Heeseung, almost pleading, "I didn't tumble down. I was pushed. He- ouch-"

“Hey hey, take it easy,” Heeseung quickly rose up, looking worried as he beckoned you to lay back. You shook your head, insistent, "there should be someone else. Maybe he ran way and— and maybe he took her with him. Did you guys ev- "

"Look y/n, you did hit your head so maybe-"

“Are you seriously suggesting that my mind is playing tricks on me?” you scoffed, your tone more aggressive than you had intended, “just because I hit my head?”

"Look y/n, the fact is that we found you alone. I promise you, we scoured the whole building, the compound, the adjacent wings and even the nearby woods — no one was out there except for the ones patrolling and you," Heeseung sighed, rubbing his forehead before exhaling sharply, looking stern, "and frankly, no one should. It was curfew hours. You, of all people, should know the implication of it."

You opened your mouth, wanting to protest further but immediately stopped yourself as you now belatedly realised just how much trouble you are possibly in for being out during curfew hours. You sank back onto your propped pillows behind you, defeated.

"y/n... just rest up for now okay? I will keep you posted in case I uncovered anything that might relate to your sightings last night," Heeseung gave you a tight-lipped smile as he drew the cubicle curtains around your bed to lend you some privacy though he stopped short before closing it completely.

"y/n," he called out softly. When you looked up, the warm gaze and smile had disappeared as he cautioned, "I would advise you to not tell anyone about last night unless you want to get in trouble for loitering around during curfew hours. I covered for you last night saying that your body was freezing when I found you which meant you must have passed out before curfew hours. I can assure you however no one else, especially the staffs, would be as lenient if they knew the truth. Not even if you tell them about what you had allegedly see or hear, because without any physical evidence, it just sounds like excuses.”

With that he excused himself, leaving you alone, dejected and defeated, questioning your own memory, "what the hell is going on with me?"

vi: the lifesaver

Its been a few weeks and still, there had been no new updates about that night. No woman, no man, no body — just you, your memories and some fading bruises, which you’ve been diligently covering with turtlenecks and long sleeves. As days passed, the memory melded perfectly with your recurring nightmares, leaving you questioning your own memory and mind — all the while, the feeling of looming terror felt as if it was increasingly gnawing you from within, haunting you. Hence, you’ve sought solace in overworking yourself, staying cooped up in the library, head buried in books — all so you can distract yourself.

Tonight however, your body was paying the price for having been overworking the past few days, pulling you into a deep sleep when you had only intended the nap to last for 15 minutes. You awoke, panic-stricken, seeing the floor you were on completely desolated. You quickly packed up, your mind on overdrive thinking of what excuses to give the guard or library staff when you pass them by in the lobby.

“Oh you’re awake?”

You screamed, backing against your table and knocking some books off the edge. It's been weeks, but you were still skittish from your last incident. Fortunately, it wasn't yet another maniac. You recognised the vest he was wearing — it was the one that the library guards always wore. You immediately apologised, “Sorry, really - I thought-"

“No, no,” the man quickly rushed over, bending down to help you pick your books up, “I should be the one apologising since I was the one who startled you.”

“No, I’m the one here during curfew hours...“ you sighed, bending down to also pick the books up when it suddenly dawned on you who the man was, “Yang Jungwon?”

His eyes lit up as he nodded excitedly, “for a second there I thought you had completely forgotten about me. Wouldn’t blame you though, I was gone for a long time.”

“Of course I remember you!” you assured him, “It’s just that… your hair. It’s black now. The red hair was pretty much your signature, wasn't it? it earned you that nickname 'The Flaming Tiger the Taekwando Club', right?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, “yeah, I dyed it back to black. Kind of preferring to keep a low profile now.”

“Well, I mean, with all the medals you’ve raked especially after you have gotten out of the hospital, I’m pretty sure you don't need the red hair to make yourself memorable in the Taekwando scene any more,” you concurred, “You’re really amazing you know that? Kicking back stronger after like a 3-week hospitalisation — how is that even possible? And now you're like part-timing as a guard here too.”

"Well, I've been having a hard time sleeping at night so part-timing during graveyard hours actually keeps me sane —anyway enough about me," Jungwon diverted, leaning against your table, "I heard so much about you as well. Heard you got straight A's last semester and is now co-authoring a paper with one of the University's highly-cited professor — come on now, your achievements are more worth praising then mine."

"Oh please stop being humble. Also the A was for a joint assignment so it's not really—" you trailed off, "shoot — they're coming," you gasped, hurriedly packing up as you saw two Student Union members in the compound, making their way towards the library, "well, it was nice catching up with you Jungwon but it's curfew hours and I've got to run. Can you do me a favour and pretend you didn't see me? Thanks!"

“No wait,” he suddenly called out ,grabbing your wrist and stopping you in your tracks, "you’ll get caught if you head that way. Come with me, I know a better way.”

You took the offer almost immediately — trusting Jungwon, who then led you skilfully through a maze of corridors and stairs, explaining how there is a secret passage in the basement — a tunnel — which leads you straight out to the backstreet, "so not only could you evade the 'Cerberus Knock-Offs' of campus, aka the Student Patrols, but if they find you, they can't really do anything since you're technically 'outside' of the campus grounds."

"Wow, it's like THE Yang Jungwon has gone rouge — where did the old uptight and stickler Jungwon go?" you remarked sarcastically as he pushed the heavy door, revealing a brightly-lit yet eerie-looking tunnel.

"Gone with the old shell," Jungwon quipped as he turned around, beckoning you to follow him. You hesitantly did, cautiously looking around the narrow passageway — feeling increasingly unnerved by the stillness, remoteness and desolation of it all, "why does the university need a tunnel any way? I mean, have you heard of how certain sanatoriums would wheel bodies discretely through tunnels back then? what if the same is happening here?"

"Why would the university be wheeling bodies though?" Jungwon gave you a quick glance before tinkering with the locks of the door at the end of the tunnel.

"I'm not saying it's the university," you clarified, suddenly reminded of your incident and the lack of evidence, "but what if the serial killer that's on the loose in town right now made it to campus — these passageways would just help him finish half the job don't you think?"

"You've always been so smart and sharp," Jungwon muttered as he rose up, his body turned towards you as he placed his hand on the crash bar of the door, his eyes narrowing, "but you should be careful with the accusations though, the staffs here are incredibly sensitive to it, fearing that such rumours would incite panic and paranoia, potentially jeopardising the university's reputation."

"But I'm not accusing," you retorted, "I actually he-" you stopped short, reminded of Heeseung's warning.

"Just saying y/n, you don't want to fly too close to the sun for you will get burnt," Jungwon cautioned as he pushed the crash bar with his elbow, his eyes still on you. Your brows knit in confusion at his cryptic words which you couldn't discern whether is a warning to you, or an advice. You can also see now, underneath the harsh lighting of the tunnel, how it wasn't just the hair that made him look and feel different. Particularly, he was skinnier and paler than you last remembered which, together with his sharp feline eyes and arched brows, made him look more intimidating. Feeling the weight of his gaze, you cleared you throat, breaking the eye contact, "I-uh should probably leave now."

"I've ordered a cab for you by the way," he beamed as you slipped outside, "it should be by the bend."

"You shouldn't have- but thanks Jungwon, I owe you twice tonight," you waved at him, "stay safe."

"you should be careful and stay safe too y/n," he replied back, waving at you.

Though thankful for his help, throughout your journey back home, you couldn't help but feel like Jungwon was hiding something.

vii: an ultimatum

“Hey Sunoo, did you remember that one case—" you stopped mid-sentence as you looked up from your phone, realising belatedly that the figure you saw from your periphery vision as you entered the Press Society Club Room was not Sunoo. You knew who it was almost instantaneously though even when he had his back against you: the tall stature; broad shoulders; thick black hair; dark get-up and of course, the air of arrogance. It was none other than Park Sunghoon.

As if hearing his name just being said aloud in your mind, he turned around, lips already curved into a conceited grin as he gestured towards Sunoo's board, “you guys have some interesting collage right here.”

“You have no business being here,” you said curtly.

Scoffing, he cocked his head in the direction of the photo studio, “nope, but he does.”

Just then, Heeseung emerged out of the studio, carrying a bunch of pictures. Trailing closely behind him, was Sunoo, fuming, “give them back! they are ours!"

“Not anymore," Heeseung sighed, handing the pictures to Sunghoon instead, who clicked his tongue tauntingly as he look through the pictures, “listen, I'm actually doing you guys a favour here. If anyone else finds out about these morbid collections, you and Ni-Ki could become suspects immediately. Trust me, in the absence of any convincing leads — they'd lap it up. Even if they don’t, you guys will still get into trouble, for intercepting and for potentially tempering the scene.”

“But they never went close to the scene!” you quickly defended.

“And who can vouch for that?” Sunghoon derided, looking amused.

"This could put the university's reputation in jeopardy so I am putting a stop to it," Heeseung said adamantly.

“If you really care about the campus and its people, you’d know how important our work and progress is,” Sunoo snapped.

“Look, just because you are able to take a bunch of grotesque pictures and connect them with strings against a map on a board doesn’t mean you guys are making any important discovery,” Sunghoon scoffed, looking down condescendingly at Sunoo, "Just stick to Cluedo, kids."

“What the fuck is your problem,” Sunoo exploded, grabbing Sunghoon by the collar, looking as if he was ready to throw punches. Sunoo had always been the personafication of sunshine and peace but right then you can see how riled up he was from the way he glowered at Sunghoon, the way his fist clenched hard and the way his voice dropped a few octaves lower. He seemed almost like a different person. You couldn't help but quickly rush over, grabbing his arm, fearing that he would really let emotions get the best of him, "Sunoo, don't—"

"Aww," Sunghoon mocked, straightening up the crumpled lapel of his blazer, before turning to you, "you should've let him punch me. It might relieve his anger."

"I'm not stupid to let him get easily framed like that. Not by the likes of you," you snapped back. Sunghoon scoffed, chuckling, "I know you're not. But your blockhead of a friend definitely is. Not so bad for a guard dog though — at least he isn't all bark and no bite. Shame that he has never been around to run to your aid when you need it the most."

Your brows knit in confusion at his words, somehow picking up something in the way he said it.

"Sunghoon, cut it out," Heeseung said authoritatively as he grabbed the main door open before turning his attention back to you and Sunoo, "I'll send someone to confiscate everything as discreetly as possible and turn a blind eye to this just this once but if I found out that you guys are meddling in this case again, or even loitering during curfew hours for whatever reason — I'll report you guys straight to the dean. This applies to you too, y/n — I've already let you go once, remember that."

With that, they excused themselves, and as soon as the door closed, Sunoo sunk onto a nearby couch. While he covered his face with his arm, you could tell he angry and dejected he was — his chest heaving in anger, ears red, "this is fucking unfair," he croaked.

You couldn't help but feel some sort of guilt in the matter. The suddenness of it all and the way Sunghoon seemed to specifically rile him felt rather personal. As if it was done simply out of spite to you not for whatever noble reason that Heeseung just sprouted. "I'll be back, okay?" you assured Sunoo before you ran out the door, frantically looking around to find Sunghoon. Thankfully he hadn't gone far, just by the bend of the corridor,

"Park Sunghoon!" you called out, marching towards him. Again, as if expecting you, he already had that distasteful smirk on his face.

“Look, if you have a problem with me, then you should take it out on me not on the people around me,” you argued, seething, “Sunoo doesn’t deserve this. He worked hard on it.”

“Didn’t we tell you that it was for the best?” he repeated flamboyantly, his grin getting wider with every step he took towards you, “the efforts you guys are putting in are useless anyway and even if, say, you guys somehow solved it — you think the authorities will believe you guys? if anything, you guys will get into trouble for potentially disrupting their work and the scene. Even if you guys actually don't temper around, they will make it seem as if you guys did just to discredit you guys. Because come on, otherwise, they'd become the punching bag of town: authorities beaten by a bunch of campus kids."

“Cut that bullshit Sunghoon, I'm pretty sure you'd rather see us scapegoated and humiliated," you retorted, "What exactly do you want from stopping this?"

"Do you..." he drawled, taking slow steps towards you, biting his lips to suppress the grin that was blooming on his lips, " really want to know what I want?". You opened your mouth, ready to protest, but find yourself frozen as he brought his hand up to your neck, his cold fingers grazing the spot where your scar was. Your brows knit in confusion at his sudden touch — the familiarity of which was threatening to evoke something in your mind. It felt like those moments when you stopped short in doing whatever you were doing because a sensation reminded you of certain memory or a dream. You could feel your mind going on overdrive as it raked through you mind palace for a specific memory but failing, making you feel more disgruntled at the mystery of it all. As if noticing the effect he had on you internally, the corner of his lips tip up, forming a devilish grin, "you left your scarf didn't you? well, since your scar is healing pretty fast, I doubt you'd need it anymore—"

Alarmed at how he noticed the scar which you had so diligently covered all these while, you snapped out of it, shoving his hand away, "how did- mind your own business Sunghoon."

"you should be the one minding your own business y/n," he muttered icily, the smile faltering as he took steps closer towards you, his gaze darkening, "stop knocking on death's door, you're not invincible, just lucky. With your predisposition towards danger however, you're going to run out of them soon."

"What's it to you?" you remarked sarcastically, "thought we're strangers."

He bit lower lips as if restraining the smirk that was blooming on his lips, "you'd wish we were."

The next thing you knew, Sunghoon’s gaze darkened and almost instantaneously, you could feel your heart sink, as if knowing exactly what would follow. Within split seconds, he had cupped your face, his thumb caressing your lips, eyes boring into yours, the intensity searing. “Sunghoon, what are yo-“ you protested, palming his chest, trying to push him off, but it all somehow evoked a strong feeling of familiarity, just like earlier. Except, it had gotten too intense that you find yourself immobilised. All of a sudden, your vision went haywire, fading back and forth between reality and fragments of yourself in a similar setting – it was as if your hallucinations or nightmares were being superimposed into reality. The Sunghoon before you kept on fading into someone else — someone you couldn't properly identify as that man pressed his lips onto yours, devouring it with so much ferocity and hunger, that you find yourself struggling for air. When you were finally able to wedge a space in between, to your horror, it was Sunghoon all along. His tongue making a quick swipe over his lipstick-stained lips, eyes glazed with lust. Within split seconds, he was dipping his head closer to yours again, seeking to reattach his lips to yours. "No- get off!" you protested, blindly hitting him. When he caught your hands in his, the whole scene revert to normal, to the Sunghoon that was caressing your lips at the campus corridor.

You stared at him in a mix of horror and disbelief, disoriented and dizzy. Feeling your self-awareness and will back, you quickly shoved him away. "What was-" you panted, stammering, "that? what was that? what did you do?"

"What was what?" he smirked, backing away at a glacial pace, "I didn't even do anything. You're the one who froze up on me." Just like that, he just turned around and walked away, leaving you rooted on spot, still at loss. It all felt so vivid just now — like remembering a dream or a nightmare but instead of it simply being confined in your mind, it was superimposed into reality, taking over visually and emotionally, rendering you completely struck and helpless.

"y/n!"

You suddenly feel yourself wheeled around, it was Sunoo, looking concerned, "why aren't you responding? I was getting worried since you were gone for too lo-" he paused, noticing how pale you've became, your hands trembling, "hey, are you okay? did he do something to you?"

"Sunoo..." you muttered weakly, forlorn, "I think... I think something is wrong with me."

► Part 003

A/N: Hello everyone! thank you for reading hehe. In case the ending stumps you, fret not, there is a continuation to this. It was getting longer and I thought it would more coherent for it to be ended right here, the rest saved for the next part. That would also be more efficient for me too because as someone who is too perfectionist to a fault, the proofreading bit is taking almost as much effort and time as the initial drafting. Apologies if there are any incoherence and errors. English is after all not my first language. With that said, I hope you like this one as much as the 1st part and hope you'll still stick around for part #003 of Dancing with the Devil — I can assure you that there would be more revelations and more things developing there ;)

Taglist: @axartia | @my5colors | @elinushka-ka ((sorry if I missed out anyone!))