V ^.^

skz,enhypen,ateez,p1 formerly @bangingchanxx

[rikibabyyy]

Masterlist!!

Stray kids

Bangchan

Intoxicated by you

Teaser

Chapter 1

Changbin

When jealousy strikes

Jisung

I loved you in silence

Ot8

The members being jealous and “trying” to hide it (texts)

How i think each member would say “i love you” without actually saying it (texts)

Ateez

Mingi

Good morning, baby

P1harmony

Keeho

Lillies in his hand

Enhypen

Jake

Show me again, sweetheart

[cupcakewon]

this hee clip omg🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤if i had nuts they would be😭😭busted all ovr😭😭😂the floor😭😭💔

credits to whoever took thisi clip 🥹

[rikibabyyy]

Show Me Again, Sweetheart

MDNI - wc : 3.2k

pairing : dom!Sim Jaehyun x fem sub!reader

warnings : smut!! , jake loves tats 😛 , lots of kissing , hickeys , neck biting/sucking , handsy/touchy jake , not proofread! , backshots , fingering , a little cum eating , unprotected sex (don’t risk it) , cream pie!! , dirty talk , teasing , multiple orgasms , biting , overstimulation(?) , slight choking.

a/n : i wrote this while i have two other unfinished fics sitting in my drafts (keep an eye out for those 😉). hopefully they’ll be finished soon as im going on holiday on tuesday so i’ll be able to write loads 🍸. as always, lmk if i made any mistakes/missed anything out & enjoy!! likes & reblogs are very much appreciated 🖤

Two weeks ago, you told your boyfriend, Sim Jake, that you were spending the afternoon with your friend at a new cafe in town, pretending to care enough about overpriced coffee and mediocre pastries to make the lie believable.

Little did he know, you were laying face-down on a tattoo bed while somebody pressed fresh ink into the skin between your shoulder blades and down the full length of your spine.

This wasn’t your first tattoo, though.

Jake knew about the delicate piece on your forearm - the one he absentmindedly traced whenever your hand rested near his. He also knew about the tiny butterfly behind your ear.

This one was different.

Bigger.

Hidden.

And entirely yours.

You kinda knew he wouldn’t approve, but you did it anyway.

Well - maybe “wouldn’t approve” is slightly dramatic.

He’d probably stare at you with that unreadable expression he wore whenever you did something impulsive, sigh under his breath, and ask why you hadn’t told him first.

Which is exactly why you didn’t.

Because if he knew you were getting another tattoo - this time stretched delicately down your spine - he would’ve insisted on coming with you.

Not that you didn’t want him to, of course, but with this one you wanted to give him a nice surprise.

You arrived at the tattoo studio, the air smelling faintly of disinfectant wipes and lavender. You smile at the lady sitting by the tattoo bed and she waves you over.

“Y/N, right? Come take a seat.” she pats the bed beside her as you approach.

You nervously explain the placement of the tattoo and what kind of design you want. You pull up Pinterest on your phone and manage to find a similar photo. The artist nods, telling you she’s able to do it.

You’re buzzing with excitement but also shaking with nervousness. You already have tattoos, but small ones. One on your forearm and the other behind your ear. Those didn’t hurt much, but you’re afraid this one might.

You take a deep breath before pulling your shirt over your head and removing your bra. You tie your hair into a messy bun and lay face down on the bed before sliding your phone out of your bag pocket.

There’s a threat of messages from Jake.

Jake: i hope you’re having fun, love

Jake: let me know if you need me to come get you

Jake: or if you need any more money

You smile at the screen and type out a fast response, just in time since the tattoo artist is now back with fresh ink, disinfectant wipes, and tissues.

She tells you to lay flat and take deep breaths. You try.

Hours later, you’re finally finished. The lady bandages up your new tattoo and gives you some tips to help keep it clean. She then lets you stand and gather your things. You pay and leave the shop.

You exhale deeply once you step out into the cool, night air. Shit. It’s already dark.

You pull out your phone and see a longer thread of messages from your boyfriend.

Jake: where are you?

Jake: are you still with your friend?

Jake: 3 missed calls

Jake: answer the phone please

Jake: i’m coming home early

You sigh and shove your phone into your back pocket.

He worries like this a lot, not always, but sometimes. It’s partly your fault for running off places and not letting him know where you’re going and how long you’ll be out.

You stop at a bus stop and check the app on your phone. 5 minutes.

Surprisingly, the bus isn’t late and it arrives 5 minutes later. You scan your card and hop on, finding a seat upstairs.

The bus ride is only around ten minutes, but as you’re driving, your phone continues to buzz in your back pocket.

You finally reach your apartment building and head inside quickly. You pull your keys out of your handbag, but when you reach the door, it’s already unlocked.

You push open the door and toe off your shoes.

“Baby?” your boyfriend calls from the living room.

His footsteps approach quickly before he appeared at the end of the hallway. His eyes scanned you head to toe. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he reaches you in three long strides and pulls you into his arms.

The sharp sting across your back made you suck in a breath. “Ow-“

Jake immediately pulled away. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” you breathe.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You just winced like a i stabbed you, baby.”

“That sounds dramatic.” you try to lighten the mood, but his serious expression doesn’t soften even a fraction.

He lifts his hands and places them on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing small circles through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Why were you out so long?”

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time.” you try shooting him a soft smile.

“Of course, you did.” He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I thought I told you to let me know if you’d be out late.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” you whisper.

He doesn’t say anything else. He just stares at you, his serious, dark eyes finally softening. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re okay.”

The two of you make your way to your bedroom after that, changing into pjs and settling into bed. You slip into bed, careful not to lay on your back because of your new tattoo.

Jake slips into bed beside you and immediately wraps his arms around your waist. You hold your breath as he pulls you closer so your back is flush against his bare chest.

His hand slides under your tank top and his fingers begin tracing gentle patterns on your stomach as the both of you fall asleep tangled up in each other.

The next morning, you wake up to hear Jake’s soft snoring behind you. You slip out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him, and pad into the kitchen, your bare feet silent on the wood.

You make your way into the kitchen and begin making breakfast for the two of you. Sausages, bacon, eggs and toast.

You grab the bread from the cupboard and shove four slices into the toaster, you pull out the bacon, eggs, and butter out of the fridge.

Then you bend down to grab the sausages from the freezer but your ass pushes back against something instead when a pair of large, familiar hands pull you backwards.

You straighten up quickly, startled, and spin around. Your boyfriend stands facing you, hands on your hips, with a smug grin creeping onto his lips. “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning.” you smile up at him.

“You making breakfast?” he nods towards the items on the counter before looking back at you.

“Yeah,” his hands grip your hips tighter. “I hope you’re hungry.”

At that, his smirk just widens. “Oh, I am.”

You gasp as he spins you around and pushes your chest flat against the counter, his hips pushing against your ass. “Jake!”

A low chuckle escapes his throat as his large hands squeeze your hips tightly. "Jake..." you repeat, but this time it comes out breathier than expected.

That's when you feel him freeze behind you. One of his hands leaves your waist and comes up to your neck to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

"What is that?" forget skipping a beat, your heart actually stops beating and restarts again faster than before.

"What's what?" you manage to say as you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

His brows are knitted, eyes dark. You feel him run a finger over the bandage peeking out the top of your tank top, his fingers feather light. "This."

"Oh..." you whisper.

"Are you hurt?" his voice left his throat harsher than intended. "What have you done, y/n?"

"It's umm..." you fumble over your words. "nothing."

"Nothing?" he scoffs, voice tightening. "that's not nothing."

You sigh and spin around to face him fully. "I wanted to wait and surprise you when it had healed."

"Healed?" his eyes widened, tone becoming accusatory. "Tell me that's not what I think it is..."

"It's a tattoo." you admit, voice no higher than a whisper.

"When did you get it?"

"Yesterday."

"Fuck, y/n." he grips your waist and spins you around again.

His fingers trace the edge of the bandage again before he pulls at it gently. You wince as the tape pulls at your skin.

"Take your shirt off." he's not asking. He's telling you.

You pause for a moment before reaching down for the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. When you lift it, Jake sees that the bandage disappears into the waistband of your shorts.

This time, he's not gentle when he begins pulling at the bandage again. He dips his finger into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down just enough to see the larger horizontal bandage on the small of your back. Shit.

The bandage is fully off now. You feel vulnerable. Is he mad? Does he like it? Does he hate it?

You spin around to face him again, only to be met with a smug smirk plastered on his lips. His eyes lift to meet yours. "Show me again, sweetheart."

You smile, a chuckle escaping your throat as you turn your back to him and move your hair out of the way so he can see the full length of the tattoo. He lift his hand and trails a single finger down the side of the permanent ink. "D- do you like it?"

"I don't know. It's... big" he sighs. "You should've let me come with you."

"I knew you'd say that." you laugh as he turns you around again with a gentle hand on your waist.

Before either of you even get chance to say anything else, his hands are on you and his lips are on yours. It’s not rushed, but it’s not gentle either. His hands slide up and down your bare sides, his thumbs brushing just below your bra. Your hands reach up to grip his shirt and pull him impossibly closer.

He groans low in his throat and it goes straight between your legs. You feel heat flushing up your neck and your panties becoming wet. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

At least he likes it.

He backs you up until your back hits the counter and you wince against his lips. “Sorry…” he whispers before diving back in, biting your bottom lip gently and soothing it with his tongue.

Then suddenly you’re being lifted onto the edge of the counter and his hands are patting your knees so he can stand between your thighs. You gladly let him and instantly wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him pressed against you.

Eventually, he pulls back from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. “Fuck…”

“You do like it, then?” you tilt your head slightly.

“Yes, I fucking like it.” he smirks down at you. His hands drop from your hips and slide down to your thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin.

“Still should’ve let me come, though.” he adds but you just roll your eyes. “Was it a guy?”

“No.” you chuckle, hands coming up to cup his cheeks.

“Good.” is the last thing he says before his lips are on yours again. His tongue pushes its way inside your mouth and tangles with yours. Your hands drop from his face and tug at the hem of his shirt.

“Off.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He reaches behind his head and pulls off his shirt in one swift motion. Your hand reaches for the back of his neck and you pull him back onto you. He groans against your mouth and reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

The straps fall down your arms and he practically rips it away from you, throwing it somewhere onto the kitchen floor.

Then you reach down for his belt but he stops you with a firm grip on your wrist. “Not yet, sweetheart. Patience.”

He lifts you off the counter, holding your body up against his with his hands on your ass. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and giggle as he carries you to the bedroom. On the way there, he buries his face in your neck and places open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbones.

He kicks your bedroom door shut behind him and lowers you onto the bed, suddenly being gentle - only because of your new tattoo - despite the hunger in his eyes.

You look up at him as he sits you down, and he just smiles devilishly at you. He drops to his knees before you and taps your leg. “Shorts off.”

You reach down and slowly, purposely, pull your shorts down your long legs. He watches the whole thing with that specific, hungry gaze he only ever gives you when he’s desperate for you.

Now you’re completely naked apart from your panties with him kneeling between your legs. His eyes remain locked onto yours as he leans down between your thighs and licks a long stripe from your entrance to your clit on your soaked panties. “You already this wet f’ me, doll?”

You nod eagerly and a needy whine escapes you. He licks again, and again, and again until you’re begging him to take off your panties.

“Jake… please, take them off.” you say, reaching down to try and do it yourself. He stops you. Again.

“What did I say earlier, sweetheart? Patience.” he growls before pushing your panties to the side and slipping his middle finger into your tight hole.

You cry out, your hand flying to tug at his hair. He adds another finger and begins moving them slowly. Not just slow, like, hardly moving at all.

He’s such a tease.

“Jake…” you breathe. “stop teasing me.”

He chuckles and looks up at you through his lashes. “You want more?”

You nod quickly.

“Ask how I like.” he demands.

You whine and wriggle beneath him, rolling your hips upwards to meet his hand. “I want you… so bad. P-please.”

He smirks, satisfied, and quickens his torturing pace. He adds a third finger and he begins pistoning them into you, curling them at just the right angle.

It doesn’t take much more before you’re whining and rolling your hips upwards, desperate for more of him.

He takes the hint and pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean. He doesn’t break eye contact as he does so.

A moan escapes you while watching him. Then he’s on you again, pushing you further up the bed so he can hover above you. He buries his face in your neck and sucks at the sensitive spot just below your ear before kissing you slowly, letting you taste yourself on him.

You didn’t even realise he was pulling your panties down until he pushes two fingers back inside of you and presses his thumb against your clit.

You arch your back off the bed and wrap your arms around his neck, keeping his lips pressed against yours.

He slides his tongue into your mouth again, wanting to taste you. All of you.

It doesn’t take much more until you’re coming on his fingers. “Ngh- Jake… I’m…”

“I know, baby,” he whispers into the crook of your neck. “let go f’ me.”

And you do. Your walls clench around his fingers and you tug harder at his hair, earning a low groan from your boyfriend.

He doesn’t stop rubbing your clit with his thumb or curling his fingers inside you until you’re basically begging him to stop.

“T-too much… ahh…” you wriggle beneath him, trying to move away from the sensitivity.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and watches as a white string of your come, connecting you to his fingers, breaks.

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck and kneels between your thighs. “Turn over.”

You flip yourself over quickly and raise your ass into the air. Just how you know he likes it.

He slaps your ass cheek hard, ripping a choked moan from your throat. Then you hear the soft clinking of his belt undoing before it falls to the ground. You look over your shoulder and see him unbuttoning his jeans. He tugs them, and his boxers, down his waist and throws them somewhere on the floor.

When he turns back to you, he trails his finger down your spine. Not directly on your tattoo, but beside it. You wince, the skin still red and sensitive.

“S’ so fucking sexy.” he whispers before tapping his leaking tip against your clit.

You clench around nothing, still needing more despite coming minutes earlier.

“Please Jake… fuck me, please. Need you so bad.” you beg.

“You need me, huh, princess?” he chuckles, the smirk audible in his voice, as he lines himself up with your dripping entrance.

He doesn’t say anything else; he just pushes into you slowly, feeling you stretch around his thick cock.

“So tight…” he groans before leaning over you, pressing his bare chest to your sore back. He digs his teeth into your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips so tight it’ll definitely leave marks, as he bottoms out and soothes the marks with his tongue.

He sets his pace, not too slow but not too fast. Not yet.

You reach underneath you, taking it upon yourself to touch yourself. The teasing is getting too much. You need more. More of his touch. More of him. You use your middle and ring finger to circle your clit, but you only manage a couple seconds before he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling it behind your back.

“You just can’t wait, can you, baby?” he chuckles before slamming into you so hard you cry out, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes.

His thrusts are aggressive and hard now as the bed rocks against the wall every time his hips slam into your ass.

Despite coming minutes before, you’re getting close to the edge again. He feels it when you clench around him and grip the bedsheets tighter. He loops his arm underneath you, his bare chest pressing against your back, and connects his fingers with your still-sensitive clit.

He doesn’t slow down, not once. If anything, his thrusts are getting harder and harder.

“J-jake… I’m close…” you manage to whine.

“Come for me.” he grunts as he releases your wrist and grips your hip even tighter than before (if that’s even possible).

You’ve become a whining, wriggling mess beneath him after you come, but he doesn’t stop. He chases his own release, reaching to wrap his hand around your neck and pull your back towards his chest.

“Gonna come inside you, yeah?” he whispers against the shell of your ear before sucking another mark onto your neck.

When he comes, he bites your neck hard and his hand tightens around your neck. When he finally stills inside of you, you can feel his cock pulsing and the thick ropes of come filling you up.

You’re both panting. Both sticky with come and sweat.

But too exhausted to even give a shit.

a/n2 : this is the longest fic i've wrote so far and i genuinley think it's a piece of art lmao but i'll let you guys be the judge of that. i tried my best and like i always say, i'll get better eventually 🖤

taglist : @binsown @testingspider @yoruse @tsumiyaa

rentry divider by : @pixopix

[rikibabyyy]

Good Morning, Baby.

MDNI

pairing : softdom!mingi x subfem!reader

warnings : this feels a little rushed sorry!! , mingi loves calling reader baby hehe , morning sex with no plot lmao , head (f receiving) , unprotected sex (don’t) , kissing , fingering , slight choking (not rlly) , biiiig dıck mingi🙏 , cum eating , pls lmk if i missed anything!

a/n : i literally haven’t wrote anything for AGES and i apologise🤭. i’ve had no motivation whatsoever and ive been so stressed with college work/assignments (my teacher pmo) but i’ll defo be trying to write more!! also, reblogs are always greatly appreciated!🩵

You wake up to find your bedroom silent and pitch black, the only light being the soft glow of the moon shining through your blinds.

You thought your sleep schedule had been getting better, but you’d started waking up in the middle of the night again. You’re not sure why.

Actually, you know the exact reason why. It’s because your boyfriend, Song Mingi, is on tour again. He’s thousands and thousands of miles away from you and the comfort of your apartment.

You rub your eyes and sit up in your bed, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You turn on the screen and see the time reads 3:47am. Below is a thread of notifications from Mingi.

He’s probably telling you to get some sleep or to eat properly - not just instant noodles.

He knows you worry and he knows you get lonely without him. That’s one of the many things you love most about your boyfriend. He notices everything.

Mingi: sleep well beautiful

Mingi: i’ll be home before you know it

Mingi: don’t worry too much

You type out a quick reply before throwing your phone onto the mattress.

Eventually, after what feels like an hour of tossing and turning, you manage to fall asleep again.

————

The next time you’re woken up, it’s by the sun illuminating your bedroom and… a wetness between your legs.

You find yourself trying to wriggle away from the sensitive pressure between your legs, but something is holding you down.

Or someone.

You blink open your sleepy eyes and look down to find your boyfriend’s head between your thighs. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you pinned down. That explains why you couldn’t move.

You arch your back off the bed and reach down, letting your fingers card through his annoyingly perfect hair.

You see the moment he realises you’re awake when he lifts his head, revealing his shiny lips and chin. “Good morning, baby.” he smirks up at you.

You can’t help but giggle as he dives back in, sucking your already-sensitive clit into his mouth. You whine in response, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips upwards.

He wastes no time pushing two fingers inside of you, pumping them slowly as he effortlessly reaches all the right spots.

“Mingi…” you moan his name, somehow already close to the edge.

He doesn’t respond. He just quickens his movements. His tongue flicks over your clit faster and his fingers push further inside of you, curling at just the right angle. Your legs tremble as you warn him you’re about to come.

“M- ahh… Mingi, I’m close…” you whimper seconds before your release coats his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze.

He releases your thighs and moves quickly, hovering over you. He buries his face in your neck and inhales deeply. “Good girl.”

“You couldn’t wait until later?” you chuckle (although you aren’t complaining) and wrap your legs around his waist.

“And miss out on waking you up in the best way possible? Absolutely not.” he groans as he begins kissing and nipping at your neck. One of his hands grips your hip tightly and the other rests beside your head, careful not to put all of his weight on you.

He leaves a trail of kisses from just below your ear all the way down to your collarbone. You didn’t even notice he had shifted his weight to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans just enough to free his hard length.

Saying Mingi is big is an understatement. He’s huge. Not just length, but girth, too. You’ll never get over how good the stretch feels when he pushes inside of you.

“Tell me you missed me, baby.” he whispers hoarsely against your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t wait for you to respond.

You open your mouth to speak but he’s already pushing inside of you. He groans against your neck and mutters something that sounds like a mix of your name and “fuck”.

You cry out embarrassingly loud and your nails dig into his shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt (which he didn’t bother to remove).

He groans again and removes his hand from your hip, bringing it up to wrap around your throat instead. He squeezes, but not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to show he’s in control. But damn you already knew that.

He bottoms out and he’s already panting into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, baby… needed you so bad.”

Then he’s moving. Thrusting deep and agonisingly slow. One hundred percent on purpose.

“Mingi…” you breathe, although you’re not even sure why.

“Use your words, love. Tell me what you want.” he smirks before lifting his head to capture your lips in a slow but hungry kiss. His fingers tighten around your neck for a moment, urging you to speak.

“More…” you manage to say.

“More?” he chuckles low in his throat. “Greedy little thing.”

He listens, though. With practiced ease, he quickens his pace and shifts ever so slightly to angle himself deeper inside of you.

When your walls begin clenching around him, you know you’re not going to last much longer. He’s kissing you when you squeeze his cock and he lets out this delicious, deep groan straight into your mouth. You swallow it, your tongue pushing into his mouth before mingling with his.

He lowers his head again and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are messy and ragged now as he gets closer to the edge.

He removes his hand from your throat and reaches between your bodies to rub fast, tight circles on your clit.

“Ahh… I’m close.” you manage to whisper.

“Let go, baby. Come for me.” he encourages, thrusting faster.

Your pussy clamp around him as you come which leaves him following seconds later. He basically collapses on top of you as his hot ropes of come fill you up. He’s a panting, groaning, sweaty mess when he lifts his head from your neck for the final time.

“Hey,” he smirks down at you. “you miss me?”

taglist : @binsown @testingspider @yoruse @tsumiyaa

lmk if you wanna be added!!

[nisc0]

◟♯ . / fwb!riki 𝝌 f!reader !

─── Y/N and Ni-ki have been trapped in a casual arrangement since she said yes to his half-joking offer months ago. She fell for him the first time they met on their college rooftop, but he keeps her at arm's length — close enough for convenience, far enough to never call it anything real. Now she's caught between wanting more and pretending she doesn't, while he runs hot and cold in ways that feel less like indifference and more like fear.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : college AU, angst, friends with benefits, toxic situationship, smut (mdni), porn with plot 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : fuckboy!riki, swearing, smoking, mention of weed, alcohol, kissing (a lot during sex), unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, fingering, mention of gun shooting, mention of drugs, ni-ki has a bad relationship with his parents, “when it’s good it’s really good, when it’s bad it’s really bad” type of relationship 𝐰𝐜 : 13.1k

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ── (no specific order, i recommend listening to it while reading)

♪ DIE FOR ME - Chase Atlantic ♪ Issues - Julia Michaels ♪ THINGS AND SUCH - PARTYNEXTDOOR ♪ Boyfriend- Ariana Grande ft. Social House ♪ So High - Doja Cat ♪ Right My Wrongs - Bryson Tiller ♪ Come & See Me - PARTYNEXTDOOR ft. Drake ♪ N 2 Deep - Drake ft. Future ♪ I NEED U - BTS ♪ Casual - Doja Cat ♪ Resentment - PARTYNEXTDOOR ♪ Been Like This - Doja Cat ♪ TBH - PARTYNEXTDOOR ♪ Cinderella - Mac Miller ft. Ty Dolla $ign

note : I was inspired by one of my experiences with an ex of mine lol (i was the biggest bird of the flock, and yes i was exactly acting like Y/N) y’all are going to hate me, I can feel it. Enjoyyyy :)

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

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

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

"You left this," he says flatly.

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

You take it. Your fingers brush his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And how was that exchange ?"

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

"Romantic."

"Right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod once, enough for him to catch it.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that how you see him?”

“Am I wrong?”

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

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

“He talked to me this morning.”

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

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

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

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

You still don’t know his last name either.

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You took forever," he says.

"Class ran late."

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

His knuckles brush your collarbone.

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

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

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

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

"Maybe I do."

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

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

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

The car keeps moving.

───

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze with your jacket still in your hands.

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

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

"That was something else."

"How?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyebrow goes up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

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

"Liar," he murmurs against your hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have you ever thought about getting a girlfriend?"

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

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

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

You shrug with one shoulder. "Just wondering."

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

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

You keep your face neutral. "And ?"

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

The same thing. You. He means you.

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

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

"Exactly." He says it so easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's how it goes.

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So do you."

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't get it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're alone.

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

That's not your role and it never was.

───

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

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

"You don't know that."

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

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

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

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

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

You glance at Jess and she shrugs.

"Yeah, okay," you say.

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

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

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

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

"You're gonna lose," Jess says.

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

Jess flips him off.

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

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

"Sure it was."

"I was just testing your reflexes."

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

Jake whoops. "Good job Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

"You already are."

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

Jake is still loosely holding your wrist.

"You fight dirty," he says.

"Just admit you're slow."

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

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

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

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

"He's not."

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

"It was a play fight."

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

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

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

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

"We’re at the beach. What stuff?"

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

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

No one answers. Jay looks at you.

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

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

"What?"

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

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

"Okay."

"I'm not."

She holds her hands up. "Okay."

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

───

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

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

13 missed calls.

All from the same number. It’s unknown.

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

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

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

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

"Hello?" you say.

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

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

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

Ni-ki.

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

"Define okay."

"You're high."

"I guess so."

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

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

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

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

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

"I said it doesn't matter."

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

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

Your heart does a flip.

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

"I’m sorry."

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

"I know."

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

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

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

And here you are, already grabbing your keys.

───

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

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

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

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

"You called me thirteen times."

"Right."

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

"You're an asshole," you say.

"Yeah."

"Like, genuinely an asshole."

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

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

"When did you eat last?" you ask.

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

"It's almost ten."

"Oh."

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

"Eat," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You asked me to."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?" you ask.

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

"Good."

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

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

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

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

"A bath ?" you repeat.

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

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

You nod. "Okay."

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

"Ni-ki," you say quietly.

"Mm?"

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

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

His hand stops moving.

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

He's quiet for a long moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks at you for a long time.

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

Your heart cracks a little.

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

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

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

"Okay," you whisper.

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

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

"Yeah."

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

───

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

Ni-ki's name on the screen.

You answer. "Hello?"

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

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

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

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

You push it all down. "For what?"

"Does it matter?"

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

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

He hangs up with no goodbye. Of course.

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

"New car?" you ask.

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

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

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

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

" Am I not allowed ?"

He doesn't respond to that.

You take a breath. "Ni-ki."

"What."

"Why are you so cold sometimes?"

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

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

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

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

Unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth twitches.

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

"That's not an answer."

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's not what I asked."

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

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

"Ni-ki. What are you doing?"

"Buying the dress."

"No. Ni-ki, come b─."

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

"Sir, would you like a bag?"

"Yes."

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

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

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

You blink. "You noticed that?"

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

"That doesn't even make sense."

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

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

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

You stare at him and he stares back.

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

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

You step out of the fitting room.

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

"Well?" you ask, suddenly self conscious.

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

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

"Just fine?"

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

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

"Why?"

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

Your face heats. "Shut up."

"I'm dead serious."

"Stop acting like that."

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

You narrow your eyes. "Are you jealous?"

He scoffs. "No."

"You're deflecting."

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

"He's your friend too."

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

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

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

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

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

He looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

You look away. "Never mind."

The ice cream drips onto your fingers.

"You have ice cream," he says.

"Where?"

He leans in.

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

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

"What was that for?" you manage.

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

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

"It is now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm bored," you announce.

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn't agree yet he stands up anyway.

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

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

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

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

"That's not the point."

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

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

"It's not that romantic. Trust."

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

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

"You heard it right."

"You're disgusting."

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

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

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

"I'm not even that high."

"You could be."

"You worry too much."

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

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

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

"You're gonna eat shit."

"I don't care."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

Ni-ki [10:22 AM]

going out of town for the weekend

you can fuck anyone u want

don’t wait for me.

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

Jess notices your face. "What?"

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

"That's weird," she says quietly.

"Yeah."

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

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

───

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

You call him.

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

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

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

"What message."

"The one about me fucking whoever I want."

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

"I don't want options."

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

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

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

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

"What is that supposed to mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Then what is it?"

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

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

"You really shouldn't."

"Yeah but that's not your call."

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

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

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

"A test for what?"

"To see if you'd get mad."

"Did I pass?"

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

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

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

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

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because I need to hear you say it."

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

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

Long silence. "Okay. Love you."

"Wait wha—"

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

Jake's name.

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

You answer. "Hello?"

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

Your stomach drops. "No. Why?"

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

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

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

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

"You think he's okay?"

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

"Alright. Be careful."

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

You try one more time but nothing.

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

You text him.

You [12:16 AM]

Hey

Jake said you're not back

Call me when you get this.

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

───

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When will he be back?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's totally the opposite reassuring.

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

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

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

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

"Anything?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

───

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

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

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

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

Jake glances over. "Still no word?"

You shake your head.

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

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

"Thanks," you murmur.

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

"Not really."

"I'll order something later."

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

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

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

Jay shushes him.

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

The screen cuts to a photograph.

Your hand freezes around the mug.

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

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

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

Body not recovered.

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

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

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

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

You don't know anything at all.

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

[ihaveamassivegun]

RIDE OR DIE: HEAVY ON THE DIE

pairing: serial killer!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: dark romance, comedy, thriller, angst

summary: you meet this gorgeous angel boy named hyunjin in the dead of winter. cute right? turns out he’s a serial killer who’s been quietly removing anyone who so much as glances at your ass. and you… forgive him? wholesome! dumb hoe.

warnings: non idol au, graphic violence, blood, gore, homicidal behavior/psychopathy, attempted murder, toxic relationship, possessiveness, brutal codependency, major character death, both of u lowk die, suicide, obsessive love, masochist hyunjin, sexual content(unprotected p in v don’t try at home, blood, sum freaky shi)

word count: 14k

you’re walking in the city. snow is falling. the sidewalk is a skating rink. no doubt that you’re gonna fall.

but when you do, you’re… caught??

“whoa, hey, i’ve got you.”

he catches you mid fall. totally romantic. omfg hello.

you blink up at him. snow in your eyelashes. breath knocked out of you.

he’s pretty. beautiful. it’s unfair, you’re jealous. soft face, pretty eyes, hair dark but there are little snowflakes in it. what the fuck.

okay, rewind. actually just to about a minute back, but still. you were standing there in the snow, blinking, cheeks pink, eyelashes already wet with snow. you looked… stupid cute. like aggressively cute. like a kicked puppy.

hyunjin noticed you immediately.

he was leaning against a pillar, hands in his coat pockets, watching the snow, the street empty out. he likes empty places. fewer witnesses. fewer people.

then there were you. small. shivering. doing that thing where you hug your coat tighter even though it’s clearly not enough. adorable. devastatingly. you muttered “shit” under your breath, and he almost laughed.

almost.

that’s when you slipped.

and now we’re here. he catches you around the waist, steady, like surprisingly steady. he’s done this exact motion a thousand times. just… not usually to save someone.

“you okay?” he says, soft. calm. angel voice. he could sing you a lullaby like… right now. but instead, he helps you stand back up, stabilizing you.

you nod too fast. adorable. your nose is red. your eyes are wide. he could kill for eyes like that. he has killed for less.

“yeah. yeah. i’m just… wow. ice. fuck.”

he smiles. it’s gentle. beautiful.

“yeah.” he says. “it’s bad tonight.” his hands leave your arms immediately, which is polite and also a little disappointing.

you look around, then back at him. “when will this stop?”

“not till morning.”

you sigh. a little dramatic. very cute. hyunjin notices how your breath fogs, how your hands tremble. he hates the cold. not because it’s uncomfortable, but because cold makes bodies stiff. harder to move. harder to… work with.

he clears his throat. “there’s a cafe a block away. still open. if you don’t want to freeze to death.”

you blink at him. “oh. shit. yeah. that’d be—thank you. i mean. yeah.”

“i’m hyunjin.” he says, a little quick in the realization that he should’ve told you sooner.

“y/n.” y/n🥰🥰🥰😊😊😊😊

you smile at him. aww.

you walk together through the snow. he keeps to your left, taller than you. you feel.. so lucky. you chatter nervously. about the weather. about how your hands are numb and you can’t feel your toes and this is how people die, right? like this? slipping and freezing and being found later by a guy with a shovel?

hyunjin hums sympathetically. “yeah. probably.”

the cafe is warm and dim and smells so good. you look relieved the second you step inside. you shake snow out of your hair like a dog. hyunjin watches. fascinated.

you order hot chocolate. extra whipped cream. marshmallows. cutie. he orders black coffee. he doesn’t need it. he just likes holding something hot.

you sit across from each other. knees almost touching. you bounce yours when you’re nervous. it’s unbearable. he wants to tell you to stop because it’s distracting. he doesn’t.

he listens more than he talks. he always does. listening is how he learns people. how he learns their habits. their rhythms. their weak spots.

that’s how he kills too.

he plans. he watches. he waits.

he’s patient.

with you, he doesn’t feel patient at all.

you blow on your hot chocolate and get whipped cream on your nose. he laughs before he can stop himself.

you look embarrassed. “what?”

“nothing.” he says quickly. “you just—sorry. you’re just… cute.”

you blush a lil. it’s brutal. “oh. um. thanks?”

he nods, suddenly very interested in his coffee.

what is this… pushing feeling inside of his chest? is he sick? fuck, he can’t get sick now. he has a body to bury tomorrow.

you talk about how you love snowstorms. how they make everything feel quieter. how unique they are to you.

“yeah.” he says slowly. “i like that too.”

he doesn’t really, we just made that clear, but after all there are a few positive things about it. like how snow covers footprints. how it slows people down. how it hides things.

the storm is still going on outside. you yawn, tiny. he offers his coat when you shiver again.

you hesitate. “are you sure?”

“yeah.” he says. “i’m fine.”

you put it on. it swallows you. you look ridiculous. perfect.

a police car goes past the cafe window slow. lights on.

you frown, just a little, eyebrows knitting together. “oh.” you murmur. “that’s… not great.”

hyunjin turns his head, sees the car. the officers inside. the way one of them is already on the radio.

five hours ago, he pressed a man’s face into the snow until the kicking stopped. gentle about it, even. the snow did most of the work. it always does.

he hums now. angelic. “yeah.”

you watch the car disappear into the white outside. “whatever happened, i feel sorry. for… whoever, i guess.”

“me too.” hyunjin says.

you sip your hot chocolate, then grimace. “shit. i should be home by now.”

hyunjin perks up internally. home. information. he files it away.

you continue, oblivious. “my washing machine is definitely done by now. i left it running. if i forget my clothes in there overnight they’re gonna smell horrible.”

you live alone. good to know.

“that sucks.” he says gently.

you sigh. big sigh for such a small person. “yeah. i hate being out late like this.”

he hesitates. then, carefully, “if i had my car, i’d drive you.”

you look at him, surprised. suspicious, but not unkind. cute little head tilt. lethal.

“or…” he adds quickly, smoothly. “i could call a friend. he’s nearby. he could drop you off.” (he’s talking about chan. does this have any meaning to the story? no, absolutely not. zero. i’m just saying :P)

you pause. think. he watches your face work through it. you shake your head. “that’s really nice of you. i appreciate it. but i don’t accept rides like that from strangers.”

smart girl.

he smiles, beautiful. “yeah. that’s fair.”

you relax a little. “thanks for understanding.”

god. you’re cute when you’re relieved. like a weight visibly lifts off your shoulders. he wants to put it back just to take it off again.

instead, he reaches for his phone. pauses. then slides it across the table. it’s his instagram profile.

“here.” he says. “if you want. just… so i know you got home okay.”

you blink. look at the phone. then at him. you hesitate again.

“yeah.” you say. “okay.” you type your name in, nails clicking on his expensive phone. god, that’s hot.

“please text me when you get home.” he says, too quickly. then corrects, softer “if you want.”

you smile. small. adorable. he could just eat you up. “i will.”

outside, the snow keeps falling. somewhere a body is being zipped into black plastic. hyunjin feels oddly… distant from that version of himself.

he watches you finish your drink, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like a child. whipped cream smudge again. unreal.

interest, he tells himself. this is interest. he feels interest in art. in killing. in his friends telling stories. this is the same category. obviously.

you stand, tug his coat tighter.

“thank you.” you say. “you’re an angel. seriously.”

“anytime.”

you wave. clumsy. cute. then you’re gone, swallowed by white.

hyunjin sits there long after. phone warm in his hand.

interest.

yeah.

sure.

cutie.

you make it home with your fingers numb and your face aching from the cold. you kick the door shut, kick your boots off, and immediately go to your washing machine. when done with that, you shrug out of the coat.

hyunjin’s coat.

smells good.

you pull out your phone.

you: hey. i’m home. didn’t freeze to death

you: the washing machine smells but it’s okay

the typing bubble appears immediately. he was waiting.

hyunjin: good

hyunjin: i mean good that you’re home

hyunjin: not the washing machine part

you grin at your phone. like a loser. adorable.

you: thanks again

you: seriously

you: for the coat and the company

you: you’re sweet

hyunjin is smiling at his phone. if you could see him right now, you’d think he looks beautiful. typing with gentle hands that have done terrible things.

before he could text, you text again. fuck. he should’ve been quicker.

you: i should probably give your coat back to you

hyunjin looks at the wall of his apartment. at the faint reddish stain still there from earlier.

hyunjin: you don’t have to rush

hyunjin: but i wouldn’t say no

you hesitate. chew your lip. adorable habit. you do it when you’re thinking. hyunjin will learn every one of your habits. he always does.

you: maybe we could meet? soon-ish?

hyunjin: sounds good

you meet two days later. coffee again. daylight. people everywhere. you walk in wearing a scarf that’s too big for you, tripping slightly on the threshold. pfft.

hyunjin stands when he sees you. people glance at him, that’s how beautiful he is.

you blush when he smiles at you. you hand him the coat. “here. sorry it took a bit.”

he takes it. “no worries.”

your fingers brush. electric. stupid. he has killed men without his pulse changing. now it spikes because you touched him accidentally.

you get coffee. you talk. you laugh. you ramble. you apologize for rambling. you’re adorable. he watches the way your mouth moves. the way you tilt your head. the way you listen.

that night, he kills again. slits someone’s femoral artery in an alley and waits for the blood to slow before leaving.

he kills clean when he can. quiet. he talks to them sometimes. apologizes. thanks them for cooperating. presses their eyes shut afterward. always gentle at the end.

you don’t see any of that.

you go on more dates. too many. too fast. walks. food. movies. sitting on your couch with your knees touching. you curl in on yourself when you laugh. you tuck your feet under you. you make small, pleased sounds when you’re comfortable.

he learns all those habits of yours.

he’s creepy. let’s not pretend he isn’t.

you don’t notice how his gaze lingers a beat too long on the way your lips wrap around the straw. how he catalogs it. remembers it. the exact pressure. the little hum you make when the flavor hits right. he’s building a library of you in his head. every blink. every nervous laugh. everything.

last tuesday some asshole on the sidewalk catcalled you while you were walking home. you laughed it off, rolled your eyes, kept scrolling your phone. didn’t think twice. but hyunjin was there. two blocks back. hood up. the guy never made it to the next corner. they found him slumped against a dumpster with a knife still in his throat. clean. precise. no witnesses. hyunjin washed his hands in a public fountain three streets over, then texted you goodnight with a little moon emoji. you replied with a heart. he smiled at his screen for eighteen minutes straight.

he knows your shampoo brand now. not because you told him. he went into your bathroom just to take a picture of everything in there. from your hairbrush to pads, he’s got everything on picture. he bought three bottles of the shampoo. keeps one in his shower so he can pretend the steam is you. jerks off with his eyes closed imagining things with you. cums so hard he has to brace against the wall.

yesterday he “accidentally” bumped into your coworker at the grocery store. the one who always lingers too long at your desk. asked innocent questions. got a name. an address. a routine. that night the guy had a car accident. brakes sliced clean through. he died. hyunjin watched from across the street, heart calm. he means well. you deserve better friends. better everything.

he asks about your day like he doesn’t already know every detail.

you tell him anyway. sweet. completely fucking oblivious.

he listens.

later he’ll go home and add today’s notes to the locked folder on his phone. photos he took from across the street last week. a voice memo of you humming while you walked. the receipt from the latte he bought you today. he’ll stare at it all until his eyes burn.

because you’re perfect.

and he’s going to make sure nothing ever fucks that up.

not even you.

fucked up, right?

he stands outside your apartment one night, hidden by darkness and snowfall, just there. he can’t really see into your apartment from that spot, he just likes being near.

you text him ten minutes later.

you: what are you doing

he freezes. heart slams. instincts flare. he scans windows. doors. shadows.

hyunjin: uh

hyunjin: nothing

hyunjin: why

you: idk

you: felt like texting you

he sighs.

yeah. he gets weird like this sometimes. i mean those short words he answered with. sometimes he doesn’t answer for hours. sometimes when he does answer, it’s short.

“k” “yeah” “later” or he answers perfectly normal.

and then you see him in person and he’s flawless. beautiful. calm. gentle. smiling. it fucks with you.

so this time, you say something. you’re at his place. it’s clean. obsessively so. everything has a place.

you sit on the couch, knees tucked up, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. cute. nervous. honest. “can i ask you something?”

he looks at you immediately. full attention. predatory. “of course.”

you swallow. “okay. well. sometimes you just… disappear. you don’t answer for hours. days, sometimes. and when you do, it’s short. i know you don’t owe me constant attention, i just—i don’t know. it makes me feel weird. and i don’t know if i did something or if you’re mad or if you’re just… i mean, i’m not accusing you. i just want to understand. i care about you, and when you disappear, it messes with my head.”

he doesn’t answer right away.

inside his skull, his fucked up little psycho skull, alarms go off. everything collapses.

disappear. you noticed. you noticed the gaps. the missing hours. the blood time. the him time. the part of him he carefully keeps sealed off, hidden behind that beautiful face you like to touch.

“i’m not mad.” he says. “i just… get busy.”

you nod. you don’t fully buy it, but you don’t push. because you’re kind. because you’re trying. “okay. thanks for telling me.” you stand. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. then we can keep talking, yeah?”

he nods. “yeah.”

this is his first crush. he doesn’t know that’s what it is. he doesn’t have language for it. he just knows that when you’re upset, his brain screams fix it fix it fix it and when he imagines you leaving, something… explodes in his head.

the bathroom door clicks shut.

the second you’re gone, he loses his fucking mind. his breathing goes shallow. his hands shake. he paces once. twice. thoughts stacking on top of each other, loud. too loud for his liking. you noticed. you might leave. you might be slipping away already. you might see him.

no. no. no.

bathroom. locked door. distance. time for you to think. time for you to decide he’s wrong. weird. off. a creep.

no.

he doesn’t even realize it’s a crush. if he did, maybe he’d recognize the signs. the obsession. the jealousy. the way you’ve become a constant in his head. but he’s never had this. never wanted someone like this. never been scared like this.

you turn the sink off.

the sound jolts him.

his eyes flick to the hallway closet. without hesitation, he goes and opens it.

and grabs the shotgun that he keeps in there.

“fuck.” he whispers. “fuck fuck fuck.”

he’s not angry at you.

he’s terrified of losing you.

the bathroom door opens.

you step out, hands damp, swinging them lightly in the air to dry them off. you look relaxed. hopeful. cute as fuck. like you’re about to continue a healthy conversation with the man you like.

your smile is already forming.

then you look up.

the barrel aimed straight at you.

and hyunjin, standing there, beautiful and shaking and completely fucking gone.

you freeze.

gun. real. pointed at you.

“okay.” you say.

your voice comes out steady. which is insane. good job, y/n. very adult of you.

hyunjin flinches like you shouted.

“don’t—” he starts, then stops. jaw clenches. eyes blown wide. beautiful.

you raise your hands slowly. palms out. fingers still damp. you swing them once, awkwardly, because you don’t know what to do with them.

“hey.” you say. “hi. it’s me. it’s just me.”

he’s breathing too fast. you can hear it.

“why is there a gun, hyunjin?” you ask gently.

he swallows. hard.

“i just—needed it.” he says.

“for what?”

he opens his mouth. closes it. shakes his head. “you were going to leave.”

“i was going to pee.”

“after!” he snaps. then immediately softens, panicked. “not—i mean—eventually. you noticed things. you said things.”

you nod slowly. therapist mode. who the fuck let you have therapist mode. “okay but i didn’t say i was leaving.”

his grip tightens. you hear the faint click of something adjusting. your stomach drops.

“you felt weird.” he says. “you said i disappear. that means you were thinking about it.”

“thinking about what?”

“about me not being enough.” he spits. “about me being wrong.”

you inhale carefully. “hyunjin. i was thinking about communication.”

“i can’t communicate. i don’t know what to do.” he blurts. “you weren’t supposed to—this wasn’t—”

“hyunjin.” you say, firmer now. “put the gun down.”

“i can’t.”

“you know damn well you can.”

“why—why are you talking like that?” god, he’s pathetic.

“because i don’t want to die.” you snap. your voice raises just a bit.

his grip tightens. breath stutters. eyes wild. “don’t yell. don’t fucking yell at me.”

“then stop pointing a gun at me!” you shout.

there it is. raised voice. boundary. consequence.

his brain fucking shatters.

“i didn’t mean to!” he yells back. “i just—i just needed you to understand!”

“understand what?!”

“that i disappear because i’m busy! that i’m not ignoring you, i’m cleaning up! that sometimes i come see you with blood still under my nails and i have to scrub until my hands hurt because i can’t let you see it—”

“what?”

he stops.

realizes.

oh.

oh fuck.

“…hyunjin.” you say slowly. “did you just say blood?”

“i kill people.” he says flatly.

silence.

“…sorry.” he adds automatically.

you stare at him. “you—”

“kill.” he repeats. louder. “people. men. usually. sometimes women. not kids.”

“…you kill people.” you repeat.

“yes.”

“like. murder.”

“yes.”

“with the gun.”

“sometimes.”

you sigh, putting your hands behind your head in stress.

“don’t move.” he says, horrified.

“i wasn’t.” you squeak, putting your hands back in front of you. “i swear. i was just breathing.”

“okay. okay. good. keep doing that.”

this is the worst yoga class you’ve ever been to.

“and then… you come on dates with me?”

“i shower.”

that’s when you laugh. you can’t help it. it bursts out of you, loud and hysterical and completely inappropriate. “oh my god. oh my gooood. i knew something was off. i thought you were like. emotionally unavailable. or secretly married. not a fucking murderer.”

he looks offended. “i’m very emotionally available.”

“you pointed a gun at me!”

“because i panicked!”

“you panicked with a shotgun!”

“don’t!” he shouts. full panic now. raw. ugly. violent. “don’t raise your voice at me, i can’t—i can’t think when you do that—fuck—”

he backs up, then forward, then slams his shoulder into the wall. a picture frame crashes. glass everywhere.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he says wildly. “i never meant to hurt you. everyone else, fuck, they deserved it, they were loud and cruel and they didn’t—”

“stop.” you say. “stop talking.”

“i can’t.” he sobs. “you’re the only good thing and now you’re scared and i ruined it.” he did. he really did.

you two stare at each other.

“this is not how i wanted to tell you.” he whispers, beautiful tears running down his cheeks.

you drag a hand down your face. your hands are still slightly damp. you notice this stupid detail and almost cry.

…why the fuck are you worried about him? he’s shaking. ugly, uncontrolled, teeth clenching shaking. the gun wavers in his hands. and something in you decides he looks more like a terrified child than a brutal serial killer. what the fuck is wrong with you.

“hyunjin.” you say softly.

he flinches again, it’s almost like your voice physically touches him.

“can i come closer?”

why would you ask that. why.

he stares at you. pupils blown. breathing ragged.

“…slowly.” he whispers.

you take one step. the barrel follows you. then lowers. just slightly. another step.

he doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. he feels love for you, he just doesn’t know that. his brain doesn’t have a category for that. so it defaults to threat. even when you’re not one.

you reach him.

you’re close enough now to see the way his eyelashes stick together with tears. it’s heartbreakingly beautiful. i was going to say it’s a shame he’s a killer, but thinking about it… it might make him even more beautiful.

“it’s okay. i’m right here. can i?” you ask quietly, gesturing to his face.

he hesitates. then nods. the shotgun slips from his hands and clatters to the floor.

you don’t look at it. you don’t break eye contact. you step into him and cup his face.

he goes still.

your thumbs brush under his eyes. wipe tears away.

“you’re not okay.” you say gently.

he nods. his face crumples, the actual mouth frown and everything when we cry.

“i’m not excusing what you said.” you continue. mature queen behavior. “but i can see you’re not trying to hurt me right now. you’re just… fucking overwhelmed.”

his breathing slows. just a little.

you can sense how confused he is. pairing that with being a killer, your brain comes to the equation of him not being good with feelings. having none at all, even. so you say “i’m not going to leave because you have feelings. it’s simple. you’re scared.”

that’s it. that’s the trigger.

scared.

his entire body goes rigid.

in his mind, scared equals weak. weak equals prey. prey gets hunted.

you’re labeling him prey.

you’re mocking him.

you must be.

you have to be.

because the alternative, that you genuinely care, that you’re holding the face of a murderer and trying to soothe him, that makes no sense. that doesn’t compute. that’s not how the world works.

he jerks back. “don’t mock me.”

“i’m not—”

“don’t!”

okay. cool. awesome. you thought you were getting somewhere.

your instincts kick in.

the gun is three feet to your left.

he runs a hand through his hair again. pacing. back turned for half a second.

that’s all you need. you move. you scoop the shotgun up before your brain can even argue with you.

it’s heavier than you expected.

when he turns back around, you’re already holding it. pointed directly at his beautiful, shocked face.

silence. absolute silence.

his eyes widen.

“…oh.” he says faintly.

“calm the fuck down.” you say. your voice doesn’t shake. not even a little.

he stares at you.

this is new.

no one has ever done this.

no one has ever turned the equation around.

he’s used to fear. to begging. to chaos. he is not used to you. small. cute. hands still slightly damp from the bathroom. aiming a shotgun at him like you were born for this shit.

“you are not the only one who can escalate.” you continue. “and i swear to god, hyunjin, if you take one step toward me without thinking, i will pull this trigger and we will both have a really fucking bad night.”

he swallows.

you’re the fucking boss, y/n.

“okay. you’re going to use your big boy words, hyunjin.”

he blinks.

“clear your fucking head.” you continue. “man up. look at me. and tell me what you feel. now.”

“i—” he starts. nothing comes out.

you wait.

his mouth opens again. closes. his hands clench and unclench. hyunjin doesn’t feel feelings the way people are supposed to. he categorizes. he measures. he controls. emotions aren’t emotions to him, they’re something he sees on other people. you’re demanding something he doesn’t have. and pressure, especially emotional pressure, hits the same place in his head as danger.

“i don’t know. i don’t know what i feel, i don’t—why are you asking me that—”

“because i need to know what the fuck is happening.” you say. firm. shaking. brave as fuck.

“i can’t.” he yells. “i can’t do this, you’re asking the wrong thing, you’re— i don’t feel. i don’t know what you’re asking me for.”

demand + confusion = meltdown.

“don’t corner me.” he whines.

“i’m not cornering you.”

“you are. you’re making me—think.”

he grabs some stupid decorative thing off the shelf. ceramic. expensive looking. fragile. he hurls it at the wall. it explodes. ceramic shards everywhere. dust. noise.

he takes a step toward you. bad move.

your finger jerks. you don’t even mean to pull the trigger. you just want him to stop moving.

BANG.

the sound is huge. violent.

the recoil nearly knocks you on your ass.

the bullet slams into the wall behind him.

everything goes dead quiet.

you stare at the smoking hole in the wall.

he stares at you.

you stare at him.

“…holy shit.” you whisper. “i don’t know how to shoot.”

he exhales, shaky. almost hysterical. “i can see that. do you want me to teach you?”

“yeah, sure. why not.”

he steps closer. “okay.” he says casually. “first, safety. finger off the trigger unless you’re ready to fire.”

you do that. immediately.

“good.” he murmurs. “now, your stance.” he moves behind you. you can feel him. warmth. breath. his hands hover, then gently guide your arms. “relax your shoulders.” he says. “you’re tense.”

no shit.

“this part here.” he continues calmly, pointing. “that’s the—”

you freeze.

you realize what’s happening.

you turn, knee right into his crotch.

he lets out the most undignified sound you’ve ever heard. cursing so filthy it turns you on. before he can recover, you swing the gun back and crack it against his head.

he goes down.

you step back, gun raised, breathing hard.

he groans on the floor, curled slightly, stunned and wheezing, but not out. never out. you underestimated how fast he recovers. that one’s on you.

his fingers close around something sharp. ceramic. a jagged shard from the thing he smashed earlier.

you see it a half second too late.

the glass slices into the side of your lower leg.

“FUCK.” you scream, dropping hard to the floor.

your gun clatters away. useless now. fantastic. great job.

blood starts welling instantly. gushing. it hurts so much.

“shit. sorry.” hyunjin breathes.

“oh now you’re sorry?”

“i didn’t—”

“you CUT ME. with GLASS. what the fuck is wrong with you?

he scrambles backward on his hands, eyes big. “you hit me in the head with a gun!”

“AFTER YOU POINTED ONE AT ME.”

“YOU SHOT AT ME.”

“I MISSED, BITCH.”

you both freeze for half a second.

then you both move at once.

you crawl. he crawls. you kick out with your good leg. he dodges. you grab at his sleeve and miss. he grabs your ankle and you shriek.

“don’t TOUCH me.” you yell.

“stop MOVING.”

you try to scoot away. he grabs your shirt. you both roll.

somehow you end up face to face, breath ragged, both of you shaking and furious.

you shove him.

“get OFF me.” you yell.

he… actually does. crawls back a little, then looks at you with those angelic eyes.

“why?” you say finally, quieter. “why do you do this?”

“do what?”

“kill. what do you think, what? dipshit.”

he rubs his face with both hands. smears a little blood from his temple. doesn’t seem to notice. “…i don’t know how to stop.”

“what do you mean?”

he stares at the floor for a long time.

“when you asked me what i feel, my brain went blank. people say things like ‘i care’ or ‘i miss you’ and it’s like they’re speaking another language. i mimic it. i copy what works. but inside? it’s mostly empty. with you, it wasn’t empty. it was confusing. i didn’t know what to do with it. i think that’s why i got scared.”

you sit there. bleeding. shaking. listening. “…i wanted more. not like, marriage or whatever, just. more honesty. more you. i thought we were building toward something.”

“i liked you.” he says. “i still do. i think. as much as i can like anything.”

there’s a long silence. broken only by both of you breathing and the faint drip of blood onto hardwood.

“well…” you say. “this is not how i imagined you opening up.”

“…you shot at me.” he replies.

“and you look like a woman.”

he stares. horrified. “what does that even mean.”

“i don’t know.” you say. “i’m stressed.”

“that’s incredibly offensive.”

“you tried to kill me.”

“…fair.”

you both sit there.

you’re bleeding. he’s bruised. there’s broken glass and ceramic everywhere. the gun is just… there.

you look at him.

he looks at you.

“…so why don’t we do it?”

“…do what?” he asks carefully.

you gesture between the two of you. the room. the mess. the whole fucked up situation. “this. us. whatever the fuck this is.”

he watches you. his psycho brain all over the place.

“hyunjin.” you say. “i’m fine with you killing people.”

“you’re—what?”

“i mean, not like. yay murder. but i already clocked that you’re fucked up. that wasn’t the dealbreaker. i freaked out because you pointed a gun at me, not because you kill. i don’t want to be scared of the person i’m with.”

his mouth opens. closes. his eyes are glassy. “…i thought you were disgusted.” he admits quietly. “i thought you were going to leave because i was… wrong. i freaked out because i thought you weren’t fine with me.”

you scoot closer. slow. you watch him tense, then force himself not to pull away. he’s trying. badly, but trying.

your leg throbs.

“can you help me with this?” you ask, nodding at the cut.

he snaps into focus instantly. purpose. something he understands. “yeah. yeah. okay.”

soon, the cut is clean. the process was… brutally intimate, to be honest. i don’t have to write it because both of you were quiet, but… damn.

he wraps the bandage. secure. gentle. the gauze is hello kitty print because that’s all he had in the bathroom. you don’t ask why a serial killer owns hello kitty gauze.

“there.” he says softly. “it’ll heal.”

you look at him.

he looks at you.

you lean in. ugh, you’re not wise, y/n. but you kiss him anyway.

the kiss is awkward at first. hesitant. mouths barely touching. then he exhales. and it deepens. careful. hungry.

“next time we talk before the guns come out.” you murmur into his mouth.

he lets out a shaky laugh. “deal.”

kissing keeps on going. his mouth feels so good. he smells good. he’s so… unique.

“i wasn’t gonna actually shoot you.” he mumbles into your neck now. “just… scare you a little.“

“you’re so fucked up.” you whisper back, but you’re already kissing the corner of his mouth.

“mhm.” he agrees. kisses you harder. there’s blood transferring from your leg to his body.

he slowly leans you back so you’re on your back in the blood puddle. it’s warm. gross. kinda nice? you don’t have time to decide because he’s tugging your pants down your legs. underwear? who the fuck knows. probably already somewhere near his dignity when you kneed him in the balls. speaking of…

you palm him through his jeans and he hisses, whole body jerking.

“poor baby. still hurt?” you ask, way too sweet.

“like a motherfucker.” he grits out. but he’s already rocking into your hand, so clearly pain has not killed the vibe.

“should i kiss it better?”

“later.”

you start to pull his shirt over his head. it gets stuck on his ears for a second. he looks like a kitten. you cackle. he growls, finally frees himself, then dives back in to suck a bruise into the side of your throat.

you fumble with his belt. it’s one of those stupid skinny ones with the tiny buckle. fashion asshole. your fingers are slippery with blood. it takes forever.

“having performance issues?” he teases.

“shut up, killer.”

he finally gets it undone himself, one smooth yank, and shoves his jeans down just enough. then comes his underwear. he’s hard, leaking already, and you think jesus christ he’s been hard since he got hit in the head with the gun.

he holds your ass up, then he’s slowly, inch by inch, inside you and it’s… fuck. it’s a lot. he’s careful at first, mindful of the cut on your leg, the blood, the smoking hole in the wall ten feet away. but you hook your legs around him and say “harder, asshole” and whatever leash he had snaps.

he hooks your good leg over his hip. the wounded one goes on his shoulder, and he slams home in one brutal thrust.

you both yell, you because it stings because no prep no lube no protection no morality, him because apparently getting kneed in the balls earlier has after effects.

the floor is slick. every thrust makes this obscene wet slap, blood, arousal, sweat, whatever else is leaking out of both of you. your leg is still bloody. it’s dripping down your ass crack now. great.

when he shifts your legs higher, folding you basically in half, your bandaged calf ends up near his face. he pauses mid thrust, eyes flicking to the hello kitty gauze. then he leans down and presses the softest kiss right over where he cut you.

aw. you clench around him so hard he sees the light.

blood smears on his chest because it runs down your thigh, which touches him. his hands leave red prints on your hips. you’re both laughing between moans.

another thrust. your back slides through the blood puddle. it’s starting to cool. sticky. you don’t care.

when he starts to shake you remember. “pull out. when you’re close. pull out.”

he laughs, breathless. “after that kick? i’ll be lucky if i can feel my dick at all. but yeah. promise.”

he manages it though. heroic, really. pulls out at the last second with this strangled noise, hand flying down to fist himself twice before he cums messily across your stomach. ropes of it hit high enough that one almost lands on your tit. artistic.

he’s panting. collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush your bad leg. kisses your jaw, your collarbone, the underside of your chin, not caring that he got some of his own jizz on himself. then, because he’s nothing if not committed to the bit, he slides down your body, hands gentle on your thighs, and buries his face between your legs.

“what’re you—”

“gentleman.” he mumbles against your cunt. “finish the job.”

bitch u just tried to shoot me.

the tongue game is brutal tho. flat and broad and then pointed and flicking and jesus christ. he eats you like he’s starving. uses every trick he’s apparently been cataloging since the first time he smelled your shampoo. those kitten licks with actual force put into them??? out of this world.

that’s why you’re loud. embarrassingly loud. thighs squeezing his head, hands in his hair, pulling hard enough that he groans into you, hips grinding up. the bandage on your leg rubs against his back and it stings and it’s perfect.

the bullet hole in the wall watches as you cum. loud. embarrassing. back arching off the floor. he doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering, oversensitive, shoving weakly at his head.

he finally pulls back, chin shiny, looking so fucking proud of himself you wanna kiss him again. so you do. taste yourself on his tongue. taste blood. you don’t know who’s so you just deal with it.

“be my girlfriend.” he says. bold as fuck.

you blink up at him. brain still rebooting from the orgasm. “what?”

“girlfriend.” he repeats it slower, like maybe you got concussed in the fight on the floor.

you stare at him. he stares back. unblinking. earnest. fucking insane.

“yeah.” you say finally. “okay. sure. why the fuck not.”

he surges up to kiss you, deep, stupidly sweet for a serial killer, and you’re laughing into it.

he finally pulls away to kneel up to pull his pants back up. the second his ass is in the air you sit up fast and smack it. hard.

he smiles. sighs. finishes pulling his pants back up, not bothering with the belt now, then he tackles you back down to the floor.

you’re rolling now, laughing, cursing, blood everywhere. he pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other sliding down to squeeze your ass. you bite his shoulder. he groans.

he starts kissing down your body again. you’re still giggling, half drunk on hormones and blood loss probably.

“wait wait wait.” you gasp, pushing at his shoulders. “stop. i’m gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow.”

he stops. pulls back. props his chin on your hip and looks up at you. “but only because you asked nicely.” then his gaze drifts lower. between your legs. he smirks, slow and filthy. “you shaved.” an observation. proud as hell. no, it’s not creepy, he’s just letting you know that he knows that if someone shaves, then they most likely expect something to happen. he has gotten enough pussy to have a good experience with that.

you shrug. “yeah. thought maybe i’d hit tonight. figured i’d be prepared.”

“and you did hit.”

“damn right i did.” you reach down, thread your fingers through his hair, tug him back up so you’re face to face again.

he kisses you again. softer this time. little fast kisses at the end of the big kiss.

“gonna take such good care of you.” he murmurs against your lips. “no more guns. unless you want ‘em.”

“we’ll see.”

he shifts down carefully, picks up your discarded panties from where they ended up halfway across the room. black lace. cute little bow. he slides them back up your legs slow, gentle.

then he notices you wince when you try to bend your knee.

“cut’s hurting?” he asks, instantly serious.

“yeah.” you admit. “stings like a bitch now that the adrenaline’s gone.”

he nods once. “okay. let’s go check it.”

you end up on the edge of the bathroom counter. in your shirt, panties, socks, watching hyunjin peel the hello kitty gauze off. it looks horrible but at least not actively bleeding anymore.

he hisses through his teeth. “fuck. i really got you good.”

“don’t say that.” you say immediately.

he huffs. “well, i’m not gonna lie to you.” not anymore.

he reaches for the cabinet. antiseptic.

no. absolutely fucking not.

“no.” you say, scooting back instinctively.

he pauses. looks up at you. blinks. “…yes.”

you plant your hands on the counter. “i’m serious. i’ll pass out. or scream. or throw up. or all three.”

“you’re not getting an infection.” he replies calmly, unscrewing the cap.

you try to slide away.

he firmly grabs your thigh. “don’t.”

you whine. actually whine. humiliating. “please don’t.”

he exhales slowly. “i know it hurts. i know. but i need to clean it.”

“need is a strong word.”

“beloved.” he says softly, and fuck you for how that nickname works on you. “look at me.”

you do. bad idea. his face is open. beautiful. he means this. it fucks with your head.

“okay.” he says quietly. “hold onto me.” he steps closer, pressing you against his chest. one arm around your back “i’m going to do it now.” he warns.

“wait—”

he pours.

you scream. there’s no dignity left in you. you clutch him, face buried against his shoulder. he doesn’t stop though.

“I know.” he murmurs, voice calm, not caring about that you probably just shattered his eardrums. “i know. you’re doing so good. just a little longer.”

you’re crying now. shaking. fingers digging into him. it hurts so bad your vision goes spotty.

and he feels… good. he feels powerful. needed. trusted. you’re clinging to him, sobbing into his shoulder, letting him hurt you even though he already hurt you once. his heart is pounding. his breath uneven. this, this is a sensation he doesn’t have a word for. it lights something up in his brain that has always been dark.

he finishes. finally. quickly bandages it again, hands gentle now. “okay.” he whispers. “it’s done.”

you don’t let go. your forehead is pressed to his collarbone. you’re still sniffing.

“you’re okay.” he says softly, holding you. “i’ve got you.”

“you’re kind of an asshole.”

“yeah. i know.”

god, he never wants this to stop.

and it doesn’t stop. you’re his girlfriend now, remember?

your leg heals slow after this. not infected, thanks hyunjin, but tender.

stairs? his arm is already there.

curbs? hand hovering at your waist, ready to catch you if you lean into him.

uneven pavement? “arm.” he murmurs.

and you take his arm. every time.

then there’s the feelings problem (or lack thereof) you notice that he still doesn’t feel like you do. you’ll say “i missed you” and he’ll pause just a second too long before answering. not because he doesn’t care, because he’s translating. what does that mean? what is the appropriate response? what does missing feel like in the body?

sometimes he mirrors you. sometimes he gets it wrong.

you learn not to take that personally.

though there are nights you cry quietly in the bathroom because you want him to ache for you the way you ache for him. because you want to be wanted without having to explain the instructions first.

but then he knocks on the door, opening it a bit, checking in.

“are you sad?” he asks.

you nod.

he sits on the floor with you.

he may not feel automatically, but when he chooses to care, he wants to. he finds that right. it’s sincere when he cares, and he cares about you. and suddenly you don’t mind what you just cried about.

he just… observes you. when you text him “miss u” he replies with a photo he took of you sleeping last week (you don’t ask when or how he got in)

but what makes this work, is that he never lies to you again. not about disappearing. not about why he’s off. not about the fact that he is what he is.

in return, you don’t try to fix him. you don’t say “therapy would help” or “have you tried journaling” because that would get you murdered in spirit if not in body.

instead, you set rules. no disappearing without warning. if he’s thinking bout weird shit, if he’s upset, he says so. if you say stop, he stops. if you’re scared, it matters.

he writes them down. not metaphorically. literally. in a small, neat notebook. his handwriting is brutally attractive.

he respects your boundaries. he tells you when he’s going to disappear. when he comes back, he showers first. always. long and thorough. sometimes he stands in the doorway afterward, towel around his waist, hair damp, looking… wrong. too quiet.

those are the nights you don’t ask questions. you just open your arms. he steps into them every time.

you learn the signs of when he’s dangerous to the world and when he’s dangerous to himself. they’re different. to the world, calm. focused. distant. to himself, restless. tense. touch starved.

you handle the second one.

the first one… you live with.

sometimes he watches you sleep and thinks about how fragile you are. how easily he could ruin this.

and sometimes you watch him wash dishes, sleeves rolled up, humming softly, and think about how strange it is to love someone who contains that much violence and that much care in the same body.

his art is where you really see it. he draws obsessively. sketches. charcoal. ink. sometimes paint. the same hands that do terrible things are capable of absurd tenderness on paper.

his work is intense. not violent, exactly, just exposed.

something is deep in him. it’s just buried under this constant… static in his heart. his art is where they leak out.

there are setbacks. days he goes cold. distant. locked inside himself. you learn the signs, shorter sentences. less eye contact. restlessness in his hands.

you call it out gently now. “you’re disappearing.” you say.

“i am.”

that honesty is new. hard, but a win. you learn quick that pushing him to “talk about it” makes him shut down harder. so you don’t. you just crawl into his lap and kiss his neck until he comes back to you.

sometimes he leaves. but now he tells you where he’s going. when he’ll be back. sometimes he doesn’t come home clean, and you don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

that’s a choice you make.

and slowly, so slowly you almost miss it, he starts to feel more. not all at once. but he gets jealous one day and doesn’t understand why. gets anxious when you’re quiet. feels something sharp and unpleasant when you’re hurt and realizes, with genuine shock, oh. that’s mine.

that’s attachment.

that’s feeling.

he’s affectionate in bursts. sudden. intense. will pin you against the fridge at 3am and make out like the world’s ending then walk away to make tea like nothing happened.

sex is easy, because you two kind of started with that. sex does make dealing with this easier tho.

he still starts gentle because your leg’s fucked up for weeks. but when you’re finally cleared for “full activity” (his words, doctor just said “take it easy”), that’s when the freak shit ramps up.

it’s always his pain he craves. needs. he begs you to hurt him during sex. not playfully. seriously. gross serious.

first time it happens you’re riding him slow on the couch. your leg’s still tender so you’re careful.

he grabs your hand, guides it to his throat. “harder.” he whispers.

you squeeze. his eyes roll back. cock twitches inside you.

“more.”

wtf sure. you press until his face goes red, veins popping, beautiful even like that.

he cums so hard he blacks out for a second. wakes up gasping, smiling ear to ear.

you experiment. because why the fuck not. bite his throat, not just the side of his neck but throat. he cums untouched the first time you do it. just shudders and spills between you with this little whimper that shouldn’t be as pretty as it is. after that it’s game on.

he begs for your teeth on his nipples. your hand around his throat. slaps to his face that leave pink handprints on that porcelain skin. he likes the sting. the humiliation of it.

you call him pathetic once mid thrust and he cums so hard his vision blacks out for a second. you have to hold him through the aftershocks while he shakes and murmurs thank you thank you thank you against your collarbone.

he never asks you to take pain. not once. if you even flinch wrong he freezes. switches to soft kisses and slow rolls of his hips, apologizing with his dick. the gun’s unloaded and locked away. he learned. or maybe he just decided your skin is too perfect to mark again unless you ask. (you haven’t. yet.)

but for him? anything goes.

knife stuff. not on you. on him. he drags the blade across his own chest while you’re bouncing on his dick. shallow cuts. he smears it on your tits. licks it off. “look what you make me do.” he murmurs.

you tie his wrists once with one of your scarves. pink. cute. he could rip it in half if he wanted. he doesn’t. just lies there spread out and gorgeous, cock leaking against his stomach, pupils blown, begging you to hurt him more. you scratch down his chest. red lines come out. he watches them form with this shining look. then begs for your mouth on them. you oblige. he sobs when your tongue drags over them. cums again just from that.

aftercare is where the “no feelings” thing gets… hard to believe. he turns into this clingy, quiet thing. curls into you. lets you clean the bite marks with gentle dabs of antiseptic. kisses your palms after you wash your hands.

sometimes he just wants to be used. lies there passive and pretty while you ride him until he’s crying from overstimulation. sometimes he pins you down and fucks you lovingly.

one night after he’s come across your tits again (his favorite canvas apparently) and licked you clean like a gentleman(freak), he looks up at you with those big soft eyes and says, quiet: “i think this is what happy feels like.”

“yeah?” you card fingers through his sweaty hair. “congrats on discovering an emotion, babe.”

he smiles. small. beautiful.

and he’s there for you. in life. once you went to a job interview, which you were excited about. like stupid excited. when you got home, you were pacing around the apartment, talking with your hands, doing that little bounce.

you were good. you knew you were good.

and then the email comes.

you didn’t get the job.

hyunjin notices it on your face immediately. “you didn’t get it.” he says.

you shake your head. “no.”

he comes closer, slow, unsure because he doesn’t know how to comfort someone.

“i thought i did really well.” you say. quieter now. “i thought i was… good.”

“you are good.” he says.

you scoff weakly. “you’re biased.”

he frowns. “i’m very objective. you prepared. you practiced. you were excited. those are not things people do when they’re bad at something.”

you look at him. surprised.

he shrugs. “i read. a lot.”

you hug him.

then your roommate is moving. sudden. no real explanation. just lots of “it’s complicated” and “i need a change” and “it’s not about you, i swear.”

you’re panicking. you tell hyunjin that night. sitting on his couch, knees drawn up, fingers twisting together.

“so i guess i need to find a new place.” you say.

he looks at you like the answer is obvious.

“you could stay here.” he says.

you laugh. “that’s… not how that works.”

“why not?”

because it’s intense. because he’s complicated. because moving in with a man who once pointed a gun at you feels weird.

you don’t say any of that. “it’s a lot.” you say instead. “and i don’t want to rush.”

he nods. accepts it. but you see the way something tightens in his jaw. disappointment, maybe. or fear.

but you end up moving in anyway. you stay over sometimes as usual, one night turns into two. two turns into a week. your bag stays by the door. then your toothbrush appears in the cup next to his.

hyunjin wants it. really, really wants it.

“you don’t have to go back tonight.”

“your stuff would fit better here.”

“it’s better when you’re around.”

which, honestly, is terrifying coming from a man like him, but also… kind of devastatingly sweet.

when you finally say, “i think i’m just gonna bring the rest of my things over.” he goes very still.

“…okay.” he says. too calm. suspiciously calm.

then, ten minutes later, you catch him reorganizing an entire bookshelf to “make space for you.” which is his version of screaming with joy.

living with him is an experience. first of all, he is a neat freak. not in a cute, wipe the counter way. in a labels inside drawers, everything aligned way. his place has always looked like nobody actually lives there.

and then you arrive. your sweaters end up draped over chairs. your mugs migrate to random surfaces. you leave books face down, half read. your shoes do not line up perfectly and it makes his eye twitch.

but he never asks you to stop. instead, he adjusts.

you find him folding your clothes once and freeze. “you don’t have to do that.”

he looks up, confused. “i want to.”

he likes it. he likes your presence disrupting the system. likes seeing evidence that someone else exists here. likes your hair ties on the sink, your handwriting on sticky notes, your laugh echoing down the hallway while you’re talking to your friends on the phone.

sleeping next to him is another thing entirely. he doesn’t move much. stays perfectly still unless you move first. then he adjusts around you.

sometimes you wake up and find him awake, staring at the ceiling.

“can’t sleep?” you ask.

“just thinking.” he says.

about what, he doesn’t say. but you know.

he starts feeling things out of order. irritation when you’re sad. relief when you’re safe. something unpleasant when you talk about leaving the city for a week to go somewhere with your friends.

one night, he admits it. “when i imagine you not here, it feels… wrong.”

you smile softly. “that’s missing someone.”

he frowns. “i don’t like it.”

“no one does.”

that’s comforting. you’re good at comforting.

one day it’s raining. hyunjin’s in the alley behind that bar you like. hood up. knife already warm from his pocket.

the target is some drunk prick who bumped into you last friday. shoulder checked you hard enough your drink spilled. you laughed it off. hyunjin didn’t laugh, but that has no effect on you because you didn’t know he was there. watching out for you. and he memorized the guy’s face. jacket. laugh. the way he leered when you bent to pick up your phone.

now the guy’s pissing against the brick wall.

hyunjin thinks of you the whole time. how you’d look right now, probably curled on his couch in his oversized sweater that you like so much, scrolling tiktok. wonders if you’re hungry. pasta tonight? that creamy one you like. or maybe takeout. chinese. extra egg rolls because you steal his.

his knife slides in under the guy’s ribs. the guy shouts, hands flapping useless. hyunjin twists once. pulls. blood mixes with rainwater.

guy slumps. dies around for a bit. hyunjin wipes the blade on his coat sleeve. steps back. no rush. calm, like always.

except tonight there’s a flicker. tiny. annoying. he pictures your face when he gets home. you’ll smell the rain on him. ask if he’s okay. touch his cheek while checking for fever. you’ll never know this blood is for you.

and when your therapist cancels an appointment later, then another, then disappears entirely, you text hyunjin immediately.

you: hey

you: can u come home

he responds instantly.

hyunjin: always

you tell him how these things lately have been fucking you up. and about the therapist. he listens. eyes on you the whole time.

“you can talk to me.” he says when you trail off. “anytime.”

you hesitate. “i don’t want to… replace my therapist with you.”

he considers that. nods. “good. i shouldn’t be a replacement.”

you look at him. the angel face. the careful posture. the depth you keep discovering in the least obvious places.

“you help.” you admit.

he exhales. relieved. “i want to.”

a month later, hyunjin goes after a construction worker who catcalled you outside a cafe. loud. “nice tits, sweetheart.” you flipped him off and kept walking.

now it’s 1am in an empty parking garage. the guy’s fumbling with his truck keys. hyunjin comes up behind him quiet. plastic zip tie around the throat before the man even turns. pulls tight.

the man gurgles. claws at the tie. hyunjin thinks about that morning. you in his kitchen wearing nothing but his t shirt. hair a mess. making pancakes badly. you burned the first batch and blamed the pan. he ate them anyway. kissed the flour off your cheek while you complained about the smoke alarm. he remembers how you tasted like the pancakes. how you climbed into his lap at the table.

the guy stops moving. body slumps between two cars. hyunjin steps over it. thinks maybe he’ll make pancakes tomorrow. better ones.

next kill. apartment building. target’s the delivery guy who lingered too long at your door back when you two weren’t dating yet. knocked twice. smiled too wide when you answered in shorts. hyunjin was in the stairwell. heard it all.

now the guy’s in the basement laundry room. folding clothes. alone.

hyunjin steps in. door clicks shut.

this one he strangles. hands around the throat. personal. the guy thrashes. face purple.

hyunjin’s beautiful face is blank except for the eyes, soft, almost sad.

he thinks about your leg scar. the one he gave you. how it’s fading to pink now. how you trace it sometimes when you’re distracted. he wants to kiss it again. lick the raised line until you squirm.

the guy stops moving. hyunjin lets go. body slumps into the laundry basket. ridiculous.

next is some ex of yours from years ago. hyunjin found him on facebook. messaged you last month trying to “catch up.” you showed hyunjin and didn’t text back.

now the guy’s jogging at dusk. trail through the woods. hyunjin waits there. tackles him from the side. pins him face down in the dirt. knee on the spine. hand over the mouth. knife slides in between the little bones of the spine. paralyzing.

then he works. slow cuts. just enough pain to make the man understand that he’s going to die.

hyunjin’s mind drifts again. to last night. you asleep on his chest. breathing soft against his collarbone. felt so good.

maybe this is what people mean when they say love.

hyunjin finishes the guy. one last cut. throat. quick. merciful. almost.

he sits back on his heels. blood on his jeans. looks at the sky through the branches. it’s purple. sunset. you’d like the color.

he wipes his hands on leaves. stands. walks back to the car.

on the drive home he thinks about that the kills used to be empty. satisfying. now they feel… secondary. the real thing is waiting at home in his clothes. looking up when he walks in and smiling like he didn’t just end four lives this month.

he parks. sits in the dark for a minute. hands still tacky with drying blood.

he thinks maybe he’s in love.

he gets out. locks the car. heads upstairs.

you’re on the couch when he opens the door. hair up. legs tucked under you. bowl of blueberries in your lap.

“you’re late.” you say. grinning. “i saved you some.”

he looks at you. and for the first time in his life something inside him doesn’t feel hollow.

it feels full.

he crosses the room. kisses you slow. tastes the blueberry on you.

“sorry.” he murmurs against your mouth. “got held up.”

you laugh. pull him down beside you.

“s’okay. you’re here now.”

yeah.

he is.

you feed him a blueberry.

this is better than any kill.

this is everything.

even when you leave a mess at home. because you do that.

and as i said, hyunjin needs the cleanness.

you leave one (1) coffee mug on the counter? his eye twitches so hard you think he’s having a stroke. you drop a single crumb from your toast? he freezes mid sentence, stares at it before getting the vacuum. you kick off your shoes anywhere next to the door? he just… exhales. long. slow. then he picks them up, places them down neatly, and mutters “there we go”

you start doing it on purpose because the way he freaks out internally is hilarious. pathetic. hot, kinda, knowing that your ragebait was successful.

so you “accidentally” spill a single drop of orange juice on the pristine white countertop. he sees it. inhales sharp through his nose. doesn’t say shit. just grabs the microfiber cloth (he has seven) and wipes it in perfect circles until the spot is gone and the counter is shinier than before.

you watch him do it with this tiny smirk.

he notices. his ears go pink.

“you’re doing this on purpose.” he says. no anger at you. just… despair at the universe.

“maybe.” you say. lick the rest of the juice off your finger slow. his pupils dilate. pathetic.

another time, you eat chips in bed. just one bag. leave three crumbs on the sheet. he comes in to change for work, sees them, and his whole body locks up. cleans it. you lie there watching, legs spread just enough to be distracting, eating another chip loud.

he finishes remaking the bed. smooths it obsessively. then stands there breathing hard.

you crawl over, pat the spot next to you. “come here, neat freak.”

he does. because he’s pathetic for you.

you push him down. straddle his hips. grind just enough to feel how hard he is already.

“you hate mess so much.” you murmur. “but look at me. i’m a mess. crumbs on my tits. juice stain on my shirt.”

he whimpers. “stop.”

“no.” you lean down. kiss him messy. get chip dust on his perfect lips. he licks it off.

sometimes it ends in sex like this, you torturing him lovingly.

you make him watch while you “accidentally” knock over his perfectly aligned stack of books on the nightstand. pages splay. bookmark falls out. he makes this noise, half sob, half moan. you pin his wrists above his head. “look at the mess.” you say. “look what i did.”

he stares at it. chest heaving. cock throbbing against your thigh. “fix it.” he begs. “please.”

“after.”

you ride him slow while the books stay fucked up. every thrust makes his eyes flick to the disaster. he whines. actually whines. “it’s wrong. it’s all wrong.”

“yeah.” you breathe. “and you’re hard as fuck because of it.”

he cums embarrassingly fast. shaking. you don’t let him up. keep him there. pinned. messy. until he’s soft and oversensitive and still staring at the chaos.

only then do you let him go. he scrambles. pulls his underwear up. fixes the books in thirty seconds flat.

you watch from the bed, laughing. he crawls back. kisses your faded scar from calf to ankle. (that’s about how big it is)

sometimes the rage ends in him on his knees. you make him clean you up. tongue only. after he’s already came on your stomach. he licks every drop. precise. thorough. while you card fingers through his hair and say “good boy. make it spotless.”

he does. then he bandages any tiny mark he left on himself during (because he always hurts himself a little, nails in his palms, teeth in his lip, whatnot)

then he vacuums. because crumbs.

you lie there post orgasm, watching your tall, beautiful, neat freak boyfriend vacuum around you. you grin. throw a pillow at him. it lands crooked.

his eye twitches again.

you laugh so hard you almost cry.

he sighs. picks it up. fluffs it. places it at 45 degrees. perfect.

or another time he’s on his knees scrubbing a nonexistent spot on the floor (you may have flicked a pea there earlier just to watch him get like this) and you’re horny and evil.

you slide up behind him. reach around. palm his dick through his sweats. he freezes. sponge still in hand. dripping.

“what are you—”

you squeeze. slow. “keep cleaning.”

he tries. god he tries. scrubs in furious little circles while you stroke him. he’s rock hard in seconds. whimpering. “the floor… it’s still… fuck—”

you yank his sweats down just enough. wrap your hand around him. jerk slow and mean.

he drops the sponge. catches himself on his palms. head hanging. breathing ragged.

“don’t stop.” you whisper. “you’re so close to getting that spot.”

he groans. pathetic. beautiful. tries to grab the sponge again. hand shaking. you rake your nails down his lower back. just lightly, the way we humans like it so much. that tickling one. he bucks. almost collapses forward. catches the edge of the coffee table. knuckles white.

“fuck—please—”

you speed up. twist at the head. he’s leaking all over your fingers. trying to thrust into your hand while simultaneously reaching for the fucking sponge like his life depends on it.

“the table.” he gasps. “there’s… a smudge—”

you laugh. cruel. hot. “then clean it, baby.”

he grabs the cloth that he bought along with the sponge. swipes at the invisible smudge one handed while you jerk him faster. his hips jerk erratic. he’s moaning, soft, pretty. “gonna—shit—gonna—”

you dig your nails into his ass. pull him back against you. “not yet. finish the table first.”

he sobs. actual tears. swipes the cloth again. misses completely. cums anyway. hard. ropes of it hitting the floor he just fucking scrubbed.

he collapses onto his elbows. shaking.

you lean over him. kiss the back of his neck. pat his ass. “look at that. you made a mess again.”

god, he loves this.

later he’ll clean the cum off the floor with the same focus he uses on everything else. you’ll watch from the couch. eating something. throwing little crumbs from it on purpose.

he’ll glare at you. never at you really, just at the mess.

but you like him this way, after all.

and when you’re standing in the quiet apartment, alone for once, and you see it. your mess. the mug you forgot. the sweater slung wrong. the drawer that never quite shuts.

and for the first time, instead of thinking he’ll fix it, you think, maybe i can.

it won’t be perfect. it won’t be his perfect. but it’ll be an attempt. and god, attempts matter to him.

so you pick things up. align them the way you think he would. you hesitate before putting something down, adjust it, adjust it again. you laugh under your breath because wow, is this what it’s like inside his head? exhausting. genuinely exhausting.

you’re mid clean when you open a drawer you don’t usually touch. it’s one of his drawers. inside are neatly stacked papers.

you lift the top stack to slide something underneath, and you see… a photo of your therapist?

you freeze.

her face. printed. on a paper of files. session notes. intake forms. dates. nothing extra.

the address is neatly highlighted.

your stomach drops.

you don’t flip through more. you don’t dig. you don’t confirm the worst thing your instincts are telling you.

because you already know him.

and you already know what this probably means.

your hands are shaking when you put the papers back exactly as you found them. exactly. same alignment. same stack. same order.

you close the drawer.

and you act normal.

he comes home later. he kisses you hello. he notices the place almost immediately.

“you cleaned.” he says. there’s something in his tone. surprise. appreciation. something close to pride, maybe.

“i tried.” you say lightly. “don’t look too hard.”

he does look. of course he does. but he doesn’t correct it. doesn’t move anything back.

“it’s good.” he says. “thank you.”

he suggests a shower. you go with him. the water is warm. his touch is gentle. would be the dream boyfriend if he wasn’t a… killer. yeah. but you got over that by now. this is actually pretty fucked up from you too, but if you want him like this, then you want him like this. that’s it.

in bed, he pulls you close. presses his face into your hair.

“you did good today.” he murmurs.

you almost laugh. you almost cry. you lie awake for a while after he falls asleep, staring at the ceiling, listening to his breathing.

your mind keeps circling back to that paper. that highlighted address. your therapist who vanished without explanation.

the next day, you go to the address highlighted in that paper.

a man answers the door. you ask about your therapist.

“she’s dead.” he says. he’s repeated it too many times. “who are you?”

your stomach drops through the floor.

you stammer. apologize. say you were her client. you trail off, because what the fuck do you say after that.

he sighs. rubs his face. opens the door wider anyway. “come in.” he says.

you sit at their table. her table. he pours coffee he clearly hasn’t tasted in weeks.

“it was violent.” he says. “police say it was… targeted.”

targeted.

you leave twenty minutes later. thank him. apologize again. your hands are numb.

outside, you stand on the sidewalk and stare at nothing.

okay.

so.

she’s dead.

time to move on.

you call your friend. the one who moved away.

she answers on the second ring, breathless. “hey, are you okay?”

“i need to ask you something.” you say. “and i need you to not lie to me. please.”

pause.

“did someone tell you to leave me.” you ask. “and not tell me why.”

silence.

then a sharp inhale.

“…yes.”

your heart sinks, but there’s also this horrible clarity. the world snapping into focus.

“what happened?” you ask gently.

she tells you everything. about a random number. a calm voice. the details they knew. her parents’ address. her sister’s school. how they told her exactly what to do and exactly what not to say.

when she finishes, her voice is shaking. “i’m so sorry. i was scared.”

“i know.” you say immediately. “it’s okay. i get you.”

she sobs. you let her. tell her it’s okay. tell her she did the right thing. because she did. because anyone would have.

after you hang up, you sit in your car and just… think.

therapist: dead.

friend: threatened.

job interview: mysteriously rejected despite doing well.

you don’t have proof of that. but you have pattern recognition.

you go home instead.

he’s there. folding laundry. your laundry.

“hey.” he says, smiling when he sees you. “i was thinking we could—”

you look at him. the angel face. the hands. the man who hates crumbs but fucked you in a puddle of blood.

you smile back.

“sounds good.” you say.

everything hyunjin did, he did because he needs you dependent on him. he wants a world where choosing him isn’t even a question because there are no competing variables left.

he doesn’t want you torn between him and a job, him and a therapist, him and a roommate, him and a future that might not include him.

he wants him to be the constant.

the safest option.

the only option.

that’s love, to hyunjin.

or at least the closest approximation his brain can produce.

yes, he killed your therapist. and yes, he threatened your friend. and dare i say cherry on top, he absolutely blackmailed the company that you wanted the job at so much. a job would mean coworkers. ambition. confidence. financial independence. a life that didn’t revolve around coming home to him. so he made a few calls. dug up some dirt. applied pressure. the rejection email wasn’t random. it was meant to be. and he felt relief when it came.

because hyunjin is a fucking genius.

so people just… drift away from you. opportunities evaporate. paths close.

and hyunjin is there every time, arms open.

of course you lean on him.

that was the point.

he doesn’t believe he’s doing anything wrong. that’s important. in his mind, he’s protecting you from stress, instability, disappointment, abandonment. he’s reducing harm. optimizing outcomes. making sure you don’t have to choose between him and anything else, because choices hurt you.

he’s seen you hurt.

that’s intolerable to him.

it’s intimate. every decision is for you. your habits. your fears. your soft spots.

and he removes anything that might compete with his role in your life.

once, back when you didn’t suspect that he did this yet, you were sad. just sad. nothing new had gone wrong. that was almost worse. just… job rejection, your friend gone, your therapist mysteriously unavailable, the quiet sense that the world was shrinking around you and you couldn’t tell why.

so when he came home, you hugged him. buried your face in his chest. and then you sobbed. ugly, shaking, hiccuping sobs. really letting it all out.

“i’m sorry.” you choked. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me. everything just keeps going wrong and i thought i was doing everything right and…” you started crying completely.

you were so fucking adorable it hurt him.

hyunjin didn’t say much. words aren’t his strength in moments like this. instead he pulled you closer, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other at your lower back. he rocked you slowly while you clung to him, fingers digging into him.

“it’s okay.” he murmured. “i’ve got you.”

he kept swaying. side to side. back and forth.

your sobs slowly turned into shaky breaths. your body loosened against his. you went pliant, trusting, exhausted.

hyunjin felt something click into place.

this was better than anything he’d ever known.

better than the clarity of killing. better than violence. better than the cold, perfect focus he used to chase like a drug.

holding you while you fell apart in his arms made him feel. the world finally made sense.

you needed him.

you needed him so much.

he rocked you and felt powerful. felt essential. irreplaceable.

he realized, very clearly, that he had never actually enjoyed life before.

not food. not sex. not art. not even killing, not really. those were just mechanisms. stimuli. ways to feel something.

this was different.

he pressed his cheek to your hair and breathed you in, eyes half lidded, mind already working, already adjusting the world around one terrifying conclusion, that this feeling, he couldn’t give it up. and if the world kept hurting you, if people kept disappointing you, if anything tried to pull you away from him, he would remove it.

because you crying in his arms wasn’t just something he tolerated.

it was something he loved.

and hyunjin is a sick fuck like that.

now it’s a stupidly nice day. sun is coming in through the kitchen window, warm on the counter. weekend.

hyunjin is cleaning the shotgun. standing between your legs because that’s just where he ended up, his hips between yours. he’s focused, head slightly bowed, sleeves rolled, looking adorable tbh.

you’re sitting there swinging one foot lazily, hands on his shoulders. you’ve held him like this a thousand times.

and god, you just can’t keep your fucking mouth shut.

“hey.” you say.

he hums.

you swallow. “i talked to her.”

“who?”

you tilt your head, studying his face. “my friend. the one who moved.”

“okay.”

you feel your heartbeat in your throat now. “she told me why she left.”

his jaw tightens. once. there we go. a reaction.

you lean forward slightly. “she said someone threatened her. told her to move. told her not to tell me.”

silence. the gun is reassembled piece by piece. click. click.

you inhale. look straight into his eyes when he finally lifts his head.

“was it you?”

the air changes.

hyunjin swallows.

you feel it through your hands, through the way his shoulders rise and fall.

“…yes.” he says.

“…why?”

his hands come to your hips. “she was an exit.” he says calmly.

“a what?”

“an option.” he clarifies. “if things went wrong. if you got scared. you could go to her.”

“that’s my friend, hyunjin. what are you even talking about?”

he looks genuinely confused by your anger. not offended. just… trying to understand. “you were hurting.” he says. “she couldn’t help you the way i could.”

“so you threatened her? do you hear yourself?”

“yes.”

you shove lightly at his shoulder. he doesn’t move. doesn’t let go of your hips either.

“you don’t get to decide who’s in my life.” you say. louder now. “you don’t get to scare people because you’re… because you’re scared.”

“i wasn’t scared.” he says. then pauses. corrects himself. “…i was.” it’s brutal development, the fact that now he can admit he’s scared.

“fucking hell.”

“i don’t want to lose you.” he says. “and people kept putting themselves between us.”

“she wasn’t between us.” you say, bringing your hands up now to gently hold his neck. not choke, just your palms on either side of his neck. “she was beside me.”

he shakes his head. “that’s still too close.”

you stare at him. “i choose you. or i don’t. you don’t rig the game.”

his breathing is heavier now. psycho brain firing, you can tell. logic tangling with attachment.

“i wasn’t trying to control you.” he says, sounding defensive. his little brain doesn’t know how to deal with this.

his hands stay on your hips. yours stay on his neck. it’s intimate, close enough to feel every shift, every breath. just as intimate as it was fucking in a puddle of blood.

“i need you to tell me.” you say, softer now. “are you going to keep doing this?”

he hesitates.

that’s the real answer.

“…i don’t want to.” he says carefully. “but my instincts are… aggressive.”

lies. he wants to.

“no shit.” you mutter.

“you’re being dramatic.” he says lightly.

you stare at him. “oh my god.”

“i’m serious.” he continues, tone almost amused. “no one got hurt in that situation.”

“you threatened her family.”

“and she’s alive.” he says, shrugging a shoulder. “see?”

you shove his chest harder this time. he stumbles back half a step but doesn’t let go of your hips until the last second.

“you keep saying you’re protecting me, but you’re just deciding things for me. you’re deciding who stays, who leaves, who dies. like my fucking therapist, hyunjin.”

the words hang there.

heavy.

he freezes.

and that’s it.

that’s your answer.

you slide off the counter slowly, feet hitting the floor. “that was you.”

“okay.” he says lightly, too lightly. “let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“don’t.”

“i’m serious.” he continues, calm, almost playful. “you’re upset. you’re connecting dots emotionally.”

“you froze.” you shoot back. “you fucking froze. that’s for a reason, baby. i know you.”

he smiles thinly. “people freeze for lots of reasons.”

“oh my god.” you mutter. “you’re unbearable.”

he steps closer, hands open. “listen. even if, hypothetically, i was involved, it wouldn’t be as simple as you’re imagining.”

“no, don’t… tell me like that.”

“i’m telling you why it made sense.”

“it didn’t make sense. it made you feel safer.”

“yes.”

you shake your head, backing away. “no. i can’t, i need space. i’m leaving.”

you turn toward the hallway.

you barely take two steps.

click.

your blood goes cold.

you stop.

slowly, you turn around.

he’s standing where you left him, shotgun raised, barrel pointed right at your chest.

his face is calm. too calm. voice level. “you’re not going.”

“…put that down.” you whisper, heart picking up.

“no.” he replies gently. “you’re emotional. you’ll say things you don’t mean.”

“you’re pointing a gun at me.” you say. “again.”

he sighs, almost fondly. “and you’re still standing there. see? you trust me.”

“that’s not trust.” you say. “that’s shock.”

he tilts his head. “same outcome.”

you feel sick. furious. terrified.

“hey.” he says. “breathe.”

you are not breathing. your hands are shaking. everything feels loud and wrong and holy shit he’s pointing a gun at me.

“put it the fuck down, hyunjin.”

“you’re safe.” he says gently, smiling a little, beautiful. “i would never hurt you.”

“you already did. you killed my therapist. you threatened my friend. you’re holding a gun to me.”

“i’m talking.” he says mildly. “listen.”

“we’re done.” you say. “i’m breaking up with you. this is over. you’re fucking insane.”

that… that snaps something. inside him. you see it in the way his eyes go distant for half a second.

“no.” he says.

he takes a step closer.

the barrel lifts.

presses under your chin.

you freeze. your breath stutters.

he tilts the gun just enough to make you look at him.

“we were going to be married.” he says softly. “you know that, right?”

“get that away from me.”

“you and me. i’d cry at the altar. not even try to hide it. people would think it’s sweet.”

you stare at him. say nothing.

“then the house.” he continues. “not too big. three bedrooms. one for us. two for the kids we’d make right away because you’d want to start early. you’d be showing by christmas. i’d build the crib myself. sand every edge so it’s safe. paint it whatever color you pick. blue or pink or yellow. doesn’t matter. i’d do it perfect.”

you shake your head, tears running. “stop.”

“you’d be a good mother. i know you would. i’d keep them safe. i’d keep all of you safe.” he says. his face is getting more red, beautiful lips plumping up. he’s crying too. “you’d read to them every night. i’d listen from the doorway. pretend i’m not obsessed with how good you are at it. we’d fight about stupid shit. dishes. laundry. you’d leave crumbs again and i’d lose my mind.”

his grip on the gun is shaking.

“you’d hate how neat i’d be.” he adds, lips shaking as he cries. “they’d be messy. you’d defend them. i’d pretend to be annoyed.”

you’re sobbing now. silent, panicked.

“you’d plant flowers. mess up the rows on purpose just to watch me fix them. we’d fuck in every room. slow in the kitchen at dawn. hard against the hallway wall after a fight. gentle in the bedroom with the lights off so i could feel every inch of you without seeing how perfect you are. i’d go down on you every morning. you’d ride me on the couch while the kids napped. we’d be quiet. careful. laughing into each other’s mouths.”

this isn’t a fantasy. it’s a plan.

“summers at the lake. you in that red bikini. me pretending not to stare. winters with hot chocolate and your cold feet on my legs. anniversaries where i take you back to that coffee shop. same table. same hot chocolate. i’d get down on one knee again just to hear you say yes twice.”

he’s shaking now. whole body. barrel presses harder into your skin.

“you’d grow old first. women do. i’d hate it. but we’d grow old together. you’d get gray streaks and still look like the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen. i’d still trace your scar from that first night. kiss it every anniversary. we’d die close. maybe in the same week. i’d go first. so i wouldn’t have to live without you.”

silence. his sobs hitching.

you look up at him. “don’t cry, hyunjin. this is your fault. you did this.”

“that’s not why i’m crying.”

he closes his eyes. tight. he can’t bear to see what comes next.

his finger tightens on the trigger.

the shot is deafening.

your body slumps. blood sprays. hot. everywhere.

he flinches. but the neat freak doesn’t reach for a cloth. he just drops the gun. lets it clatter. kneels. gathers what’s left of you into his arms.

he curls around you on the floor. wrapped tight. face tucked into the ruined curve of your neck. under what used to be your jaw. blood soaks his shirt. his hair. the rug he spent three hours shampooing last week. he doesn’t care. for once the mess doesn’t register. the only thing that matters is you. still warm. still smelling like you.

he cries into what’s left of you. deep, ugly sobs that shake his whole body. he never had feelings before, and now he’s crying, blood soaking through his shirt, into his skin, sticking his hair to his forehead in sticky strands. he’s already swimming in it. doesn’t matter. the neat freak is gone. there’s no cloth, no bleach, no circles to make it right. just red. everywhere. pooling under you both. he doesn’t care.

he loved you so much.

his face stays buried. breathing you in one last time even though all he gets is iron and gunpowder and the faint ghost of your shampoo, still the same one he used to buy for himself.

he loved you so much.

after a while, minutes, hours, who fucking knows, he lifts his head. slow. eyes swollen. lashes clumped with tears and blood. he looks around. the apartment he kept so perfect. now a slaughterhouse. the rug ruined. walls spattered. the coffee table knocked sideways. your blood on the couch you used to curl up on together.

he loved you so much.

his gaze lands on the shotgun. still warm. lying a foot away like it’s waiting. innocent almost.

he loved you so much.

he sits up. careful. gentle. god, he can’t scare you now. he slides one arm under your shoulders. the other under your knees. lifts what’s left of you into his lap. cradles you against his chest. your head, more like what’s left of it, lolls against his shoulder. he doesn’t fix it. just holds. rocks a little. the way he used to when you fell asleep on him during movies.

he loved you so much.

he reaches. fingers brush the the shotgun. he pulls it closer. slow. no rush. no panic.

he loved you so much.

he hugs your ruined body tighter to himself. one arm wrapped around your waist. the other maneuvering the barrel. he presses it under his own chin. the same spot he held it to yours. mirrors it.

his thumb finds the trigger. steady. no shake now.

he loved you so much.

then the second shot cracks the quiet. into flesh and love that never got to be anything else. his body jerks once. slumps back with yours. arms still locked around you. shotgun clatters sideways. blood mixes. his with yours. indistinguishable now.

the apartment goes still. blood keeps spreading. on every inch he once kept so clean.

two bodies tangled on the floor. his arms still around you. yours limp at your sides.

holding each other even after everything.

he loved you so much.

and this is the end of the two of you.

together.

close.

bloody.

dead.

the apartment stays quiet after that, except for the drip of blood from surfaces it splattered onto.

drip.

drip.

because he loved you so much.

tags: @fics-lovebot @nougatjade @itsraininghyunebuckets @simpqueen2025 @alondra6011 @jaykaavfxcq @soldantae @angelbbygrl @lovelyzghostss @lisastay1 @btch8008s @elizaliza159 @fairyprincesslvr21 @carrotcakeesblog @flamegirl @lixwrld @franaby @bee-gremlin @gardeniashellfire @nevermoreraven1 @sapphirewaves @twilightavenue @pinkdollyy1 @akindaflora @eclips-moon @danielle143 @rayraymylove @niku0704 @herondale-lightworm @btch8008s @elqk @liightlizard @spearbuunn @lttlekomori @importantphantomjellyfish @honeyyyy21 @g1ul1a-s @skzruby @v3n7s @omghidokyeom @luvvvivi @jeonginsfavglazer @cafemirka @minniebitesfr @ariaaleelynn @emmalabo

[moonxiiey]

HIS SMILE 🥹❤️‍🩹

EVAN 🤤😍

[pineapple-burgah]

seunglix language

I have to believe this is a regular occurrence

skz editors I love you

(from the new racha log)

[saturn-files]

西村 力; 엔하이픈 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

✦ memes & bf!riki texts

— non idol!bf!riki x fem!reader; fluff; established relationship; some swearing, kms jokes, suggestive

💭 replying to shit messages your boyfriend sends you with memes ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

↺ reblog for flowers!

،‌،‌ 🌷 more under cut | masterlist

azalea´s notes: hihi i loved these memes too much to let them rot in my camera roll so enjoy!! as always reblogs are much appreciated!! i´ll probably turn this into another series… if you want… (pls say yes) (i'd also open a taglist)

✦ ˖ ࣪ until we meet again.

[bimbobarbie4life]

Bodybetter - Nishimura Riki

Pt. 1: Your Lips Lie

(idk if anyone knows that song by blackbear, but it used to be my SHIT in middle school...i def shouldn't have been listening to it & singing it regularly, but who cares~~)

@bestboileeknow & @bangingchanxx who asked for pt2. enjoy my luvs

~~Even if your brother's room is just a short walk away and you've made it clear that you can't stand Ni-ki, you still leave your door unlocked when the house winds down. There's no point in denying Ni-ki when your body's gonna tell on you every time.~~

wc: 1.8k

content: masturbation, vaginal fingering, LOTS of overstimulation, vaginal penetration, no protection (wrap ur willy), manhandling, ass slapping, squirting, sorta rough Ni-ki, HE'S A FREAK I TELL YOU

You heard the floorboards creak minutes after the tv turned off in the living room. Normally, this is when you would assume the whole house was asleep. You would hear your brother shut his door and naturally guess that Ni-ki was knocked out on the couch.

You assumed as much, but you knew better than that now. You knew Ni-ki was awake. You knew he heard you all those times you were up late at night, touching yourself. You knew he could hear you right now.

Pajamas askew and blanket pushed to the bottom of the bed, you lie there, legs open with your fingers applying pressure to your clit. The pressure made your breath stutter, but you kept all other sounds at bay.

Hours you locked yourself away in your room after you heard Ni-ki was coming over. Not because you were embarrassed about what you did and worried your brother would find out, but because you knew you wouldn’t have been able to hold yourself back if he sent even one teasing glance in your direction. You had to have some sense of dignity or else he would never let you live it down. And yet, your door sat unlocked for the last two hours, waiting for your brother to head off to bed, and for Ni-ki to find his way to your room.

You saw him before you heard him. That annoying Cheshire grin as he closed the door behind him and stood up against your wall.

“Gonna be honest,” he says, licking his lips, “I thought you were gonna lock me out.”

Pumping your fingers in and out, you ignore him for a few moments. He watches you raptly, his attention fully focused on where your fingers are disappearing to when you push them in. Ni-ki purses his lips when you don’t answer and walks a little closer.

“You just gonna make me watch?”

Close enough to touch you, he wraps his hand around your ankle and rips you down to the edge of the bed. He then leans down into your space and moves his hand to press your inner thigh to the mattress.

“I know you’re a perverted little watcher, but I’m more of a hands-on type of guy,” which he proves to be true the next second when his fingers join yours in your cunt the next second, ripping a startled gasp out of you as he fits two in.

You suppress a groan at the tight fit, your eyebrows scrunching together and your lips parting in a long O.

“Don’t be too shocked,” he smirks while pressing his palm down over your fingers, forcing yours to dig in with his, “You took more than this last time.” Holding your thigh down, he moves his hand faster.

You twist and turn under his heavy touch, trying your damndest to stay quiet. It’s a difficult task with four fingers stretching you out, digging inside of your cunt, and dragging you close to coming faster than you were ready for. Your other hand fists the sheets in an attempt to keep it together.

Not even 50 feet away, your brother is sleeping in his room, unaware that his little sister is getting fingerfucked by his best friend. There’s more of a struggle on your part than there is for Ni-ki. He doesn’t care for much else besides guiding your fingers with his. He locks in when your cunt grows wetter and releases your thigh to spam his hand over your click.

“Oh fuck,” you moan loudly before you can catch yourself, “Ni-ki stop.”

You let go of the sheets to push his hand away from your clit, but he stops everything altogether. Even though he’s still knuckles-deep in your cunt, now, he’s not moving at all. Part of you is annoyed he took your words so literally, while another part is glad for the reprieve.

Ni-ki raises a brow, “You done?” He observes the rise and fall of your chest, then you shake your head. You were far from done, but Ni-ki wasn’t taking it easy on you either.

“Don’t fucking do that,” you hiss at him when you finally find your words.

“Do what?” he asks, jutting his lip out with a coy expression.

“You know what.” You glare at him, hoping to cement your point, but it’s obvious he’s being dense on purpose. All the while, you can feel him beginning to slip another digit in, his face giving nothing away as your core clenches.

“I can’t fuck you if you’re too tight,” he says, holding your gaze, until you finally look away, no longer able to present a strong front when he’s got three fingers matching up against your two.

“That’s- that’s not what I’m talking about,” you stammer while he speeds his hand up again, your squelching more prevalent now. You whimper, trying to finish what you were saying, but finding it difficult as he stares you directly in the eyes while he defiles your poor cunt. “You’re gonna wake him.”

Ni-ki shrugs and returns his other hand to your clit. “Bite a pillow or something.”

You can hardly handle the rapid pace he sets between filling up your core and abusing your clit. Even after grabbing his wrist, he doesn’t move his hand this time. He just continues while watching your reactions closely. He watches you squirm around, gripping the sheets as if dragging the comforter closer will make him ease up.

Broken, guttural sounds bracket your lips and muffle into the cloth, reaching Ni-ki’s ears but likely not spanning past the door.

“Look at that,” he says, a wide grin breaking out on his face. Underneath his hands, your body is contorting trying to run from the onslaught of pleasure. Liquid splashes from your cunt, and he slips his hands away to watch it drench your bed. Holding your legs open, he gets a front row view to your twitching cunt.

You almost scream if not for the bedding you’re ripping your teeth into.

“You squirt this much with all the guys you mess with?” He looks entertained. Meanwhile, you can’t even remember what day it is.

“Fuck you,” you fire back, kicking your leg out weakly, but he catches it and props it up on his shoulder.

Ni-ki chuckles and slips down his pants. “Yeah, I assumed not.” He slots his cock up your slippery folds, watching your shudder from the sensitivity before pushing the tip in, and then slipping it back out. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

You stare down at where his cock is resting against your cunt. “I’m gonna cut your dick off one day,” you reply, staring up at the ceiling.

“You won’t,” he says, nudging your clit and then pulling back a fraction. You release a breathy moan before reaching down to stroke what you can reach. He lets you touch him, your hand gripping the top of his cock. It’s coated in your juices, making the slide in your palm exponentially sweet.

Ni-ki breaks the silence again when you release him, “You been thinking about me, huh?”

You let out an incredulous noise, “You wish.”

“Don’t lie,” he says, finally rolling inside once you grind your hips down. “You can’t get anybody to fuck you like this so you’re always touching yourself when I’m here.”

You moan as he pushes your leg to your chest, effectively sinking in all the way. Answering anything he says is the last thing on your mind right now. It’s not like he would believe you anyway.

“Jesus, stop fucking talking,” you grunt out when his ruts his cock into you.

Gripping your thigh, he presses it down and uses it as leverage to snap his hips and fuck you deep into your wet mess. “Why are you so mad all the time,” he huffs through your tight clenching, “Fuck- It takes a lot to fuck the attitude out of you, or is it just me?”

With your leg over his shoulder, the angle feels like he’s farther inside than the last time. He’s practically kissing your fucking cervix right now. If this was anyone but him, you might give him some grace, but since it’s him, you can’t let him get a big head, even if you do feel like he’s the best fuck you’ve ever had. Eyes rolling back, you tuck your lip between your teeth and turn your head away.

Ni-ki is obviously determined to break your walls down though, considering he’s ramming his hips forward and pushing his weight into every thrust. The pleasurable sounds he punches out of you are far from your control.

He keeps going, even when he feels you coming around him. You buck against him and press your face into the covers. He’s not too far behind, eventually coming deep inside of you only a few thrusts later. It almost has you clawing to hold him close, the feeling of his cum pumping inside your walls. You shiver a little, warmth trickling through your system until he pulls out.

Finished, you expect him to grab his things and exit your room. Overlystimulated, you need some time to yourself. Maybe twenty minutes or so to play with yourself in the shower while you fingered his cum out of you. However, you were way off in thinking he would be leaving anytime soon. 

Grabbing your legs, Ni-ki flips you over onto your stomach and pulls you to stand with your front half bent over the mattress. Then, he’s fucking his previous release back inside of you, the resounding squelch more audible with the added lubricant.

The bedframe shakes as he rocks it with every push into your dripping cunt. Ni-ki’s said it before, and he’ll say it again. You really can’t lie when it comes to him. Even when you were cursing him to the moon and back your cunt was fluttering. You were kissing his cock with your pussy. You were drawing him in and drooling all over, begging for him to fuck you more.

Leaning over your back, Ni-ki presses his lips close to your ear. His low grunts are drifting right into your ear with every punctuated thrust. No amount of self control could keep you from clenching around him.

“How many times do you think I can make you come before you tell me you love me?”

A loud laugh reaches the air first, but a moan isn’t too far behind it when he slaps your ass and drives hips forward. “In your dreams,” you reply and then clamp your lips shut before any other contradicting sounds can tumble.

Ni-ki hears your words, but he registers the pull between your legs. He stares at the space between your bodies that disappears every second or so. He watches the glistening wetness mixed with his cum glaze his cock and your folds. He takes it all in, and he makes the final decision because he knows you’ll never say it without enough incentive.

Bringing his hand down hard enough for the sound to echo across the room, he shudders at the sudden clench and says, “Don’t worry. Your brother’s asleep. I think I have enough time to change your mind.”

[lac4ygal]

BEST FUCK OF YOUR LIFE — y.jw

.ᐟ.ᐟPairing: Jungwon x Female Reader

.ᐟ.ᐟGenre: Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Fluff

.ᐟ.ᐟWord Count: ~27.4k

.ᐟ.ᐟSummary: After a drunken bet leads to the best sex of your life, you and Jungwon agree to keep things casual. But when feelings get involved and a new guy enters the picture, everything gets complicated.

.ᐟ.ᐟContent warnings: explicit sexual content (MDNI), oral sex both giving and receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, use of a vibrator, 69 position, penetrative sex, multiple positions, dirty talk, praise kink, light possessiveness and jealousy kink, dominance and control play, overstimulation, semi-public sex, car sex, shower sex, hickeys, alcohol consumption, cigarette smoking, weed use, mutual jealousy, emotional avoidance, brief emotional breakdown, using someone as a rebound, kissing someone while emotionally involved with another, sneaking around, strong language, possessive language, mild angst, happy ending

.ᐟ.ᐟSong: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

.ᐟ.ᐟAuthors note: hey loves!!, this fic has been living in my head rent free for way too long so i finally just said we’re doing this. please check the content warnings before reading because there is a LOT going on here. two idiots with walls up, terrible at feelings, great at everything else — that’s the whole story honestly. the smut is meant to show emotional progression so if you read closely you’ll notice how they change with each other as feelings develop. daniel was never a villain, just bad timing, please be nice to him 😭 if you made it to the end thank you from the bottom of my heart 💓. comments, likes, feedback and reblogs keep me writing so don’t be a silent reader i am begging, ps. yes the title is intentional. enjoy lovelies 🥰 my masterlist

The apartment reeks of weed, cheap beer, and too many people crammed into too small a space. It’s Jake’s place tonight, which means Maya’s been here since noon helping him “clean” (read: shove everything into closets).

You’re sprawled on the couch between Liv and Reina, a half-empty White Claw sweating in your hand, already feeling the pleasant buzz of your third drink settling into your bones. “I’m just saying,” you announce, louder than necessary, “men are fucking useless.”

“No, I’m serious!” You gesture wildly, nearly sloshing your drink. “Like, is it really that fucking hard to find the clit? Is basic anatomy that complicated?”

“Here we go,” Jay groans again from the floor, leaning back against Sunghoon’s legs. They’re playing some racing game on mute while everyone else talks over them. Reina cackles. “Who are we talking about?”

“That guy from Delta Sig I went home with last weekend.” You take a long drink. “Forty-five minutes of the most mediocre dick of my life and he had the audacity to ask if I came.”

“Did you fake it?” Liv asks, already knowing the answer.

“Fuck no. I told him the truth and he got all butthurt about it.” You roll your eyes. “Like sorry bro, maybe develop some skills.”

“Brutal,” Sunoo says, grinning as he passes the joint to Niki.

“Honest,” you correct. “I don’t have time to protect egos. If you can’t make me cum, I’m not gonna lie about it.”

Across the room, Jungwon is watching you with this amused smirk, one eyebrow raised. He’s been quiet most of the night, nursing the same beer, legs spread wide in that infuriatingly confident way guys sit when they know they look good. And he does look good—black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, hair falling into his eyes just right. “What?” you challenge, catching his stare.

“Nothing.” But his smirk deepens. “Just sounds like you’ve been picking the wrong guys.”

“Oh please.” You lean forward. “Like you’d be any different.”

Something shifts in his expression. His eyes darken, and he tilts his head slightly, studying you. “Want me to prove it?”

The room doesn’t exactly go quiet, but you feel like it does. Your stomach does this weird flip. “Prove what?” You keep your voice steady even though your heart is suddenly racing.

“That you’ve been fucking the wrong guys.” He says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. But there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at you.

Reina makes a choking sound beside you. Someone—maybe Heeseung—mutters “oh shit” under their breath. You should laugh it off. Make a joke. Change the subject. But you’re drunk enough to be bold and curious enough to wonder if he’s all talk. “You’re that confident?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” No hesitation. “I am.”

The challenge hangs in the air between you. You’re aware of everyone watching, waiting to see what you’ll do. Maya’s eyes are wide. Jay looks like he’s trying to figure out if he should intervene. “Okay.” You stand up, and Jungwon’s smirk falters for just a second—like he didn’t expect you to actually take him up on it. “Prove it.”

You start walking toward the hallway that leads to Jake’s bedroom, and after a beat, you hear Jungwon follow.

“Are they really—” someone starts.

“Yup,” Reina says, and she sounds absolutely delighted.

Jake’s bedroom is dark and quiet, muffled music and laughter filtering through the door. You flip on the lamp, suddenly aware that you’re alone with Jungwon and you just agreed to let him— “You don’t have to,” he says, and when you turn, he’s standing close but not crowding you. “If you were just calling my bluff.”

“Were you bluffing?”

“No.”

The word sends heat straight through you. You step closer, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “Then stop talking and do it.”

For a second he just looks at you, and then his hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “You sure?”

“Jungwon.” You grab his shirt. “I swear to god, if you’re going to do it, then—” He kisses you. Not rough, not tentative—just sure. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and honestly? The confidence is already working for you. His lips are soft and he tastes like beer and something minty, and when his tongue slides against yours, you make a sound you’ll probably be embarrassed about later.

But he groans in response, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fall onto it and he follows, hovering over you, one hand planted by your head while the other slides under your shirt. “This okay?” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Yes, fuck—yes.”

His hand skims up your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your bralette, and you arch into the touch. He’s taking his time, kissing along your jaw, down your neck, finding that spot behind your ear that makes you gasp. “Sensitive here?” he asks, sounding pleased.

“Shut up.”

He laughs, low and warm against your skin. “You’re mouthy.”

“You have no idea.”

“Guess I’ll find out.” He sits back and pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, and—okay. Okay. You knew he was lean but you didn’t know he looked like that without clothes. He catches you staring and smirks. “See something you like?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late.” But his hands are gentle as he reaches for the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to nod before pulling it off. Your bralette follows, and then his mouth is on your breast and coherent thought gets significantly harder.

He’s good at this. The guy knows what he’s doing with his tongue, circling your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm. His hand works your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching until you’re panting. “Jungwon—”

“Hmm?” He switches sides, giving your other breast the same attention, and you thread your fingers through his hair and tug.

“Stop teasing.”

“I’m not teasing.” He looks up at you through his lashes, and the sight of him between your breasts does something to you. “I’m being thorough.” His hand trails down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans. “Can I?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

He unbuttons them slowly—too slowly—and slides them down your legs along with your underwear. You’re completely naked and he’s still half-dressed, and something about that makes you feel exposed in a way that’s not entirely uncomfortable. Jungwon sits back on his heels, just looking at you, and you fight the urge to cover yourself. “Stop staring.”

“Can’t help it.” His hands slide up your thighs, pushing them apart. “You’re so fucking pretty.” The praise makes your face heat. You’re not used to guys taking their time like this, looking at you like you’re something worth savoring.

“Let me know if anything doesn’t feel good,” he says, and then his mouth is on your inner thigh, kissing and biting a path upward until his breath is ghosting over where you need him most.

The first touch of his tongue is light—experimental. He licks a broad stripe up your center and you gasp, hips jerking. His hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he does it again, more pressure this time. “Fuck,” you breathe.

He hums against you, and the vibration makes your toes curl. Then he finds your clit with the tip of his tongue, circling it slowly, and—oh. Oh.

You’ve had guys go down on you before. Most of them acted like it was a chore, something to rush through to get to the “main event.” But Jungwon is eating you out like he has all the time in the world, like he’s enjoying it as much as you are.

He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, reading your body’s reactions—when you moan, when your hips buck, when your thighs start to tremble. And when he slides one finger inside you, crooking it just right while his tongue works your clit, you actually see stars. “Holy shit,” you gasp, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping the sheets.

He adds a second finger, stretching you, and the combination of his mouth and his fingers pumping into you is almost too much. You’re making sounds you’ve never made before, completely uninhibited, and he’s groaning against you like getting you off is getting him off. “Jungwon, I’m—fuck, I’m close—”

He doesn’t change what he’s doing. Doesn’t speed up or switch techniques like so many guys do right when you’re on the edge. He just keeps that same perfect rhythm, fingers curling inside you, tongue circling your clit, and you come harder than you ever have with another person. Your whole body goes taut, thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure crash over you. He works you through it, only lightening his touch when you start to squirm from sensitivity.

When you can finally breathe again, you look down to find him watching you with the most self-satisfied expression you’ve ever seen. “You were saying?” he asks, and you want to be annoyed but you’re too blissed out to care.

“Okay,” you admit. “Point proven.”

He crawls up your body, kissing you deep, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. His erection presses against your thigh through his sweatpants, and you reach down to palm him through the fabric. He groans into your mouth. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” You push at his shoulders until he rolls onto his back, and then you’re straddling him, grinding down against his clothed cock. “Unless you’re done proving yourself?”

His hands grip your hips, helping you rock against him. “Fuck no.” You lean down to kiss him while your hand slips into his sweatpants, wrapping around him. He’s hard and thick, and when you stroke him, his hips jerk up into your hand.

“Condom?” you murmur against his lips.

“Wallet. Back pocket.” You climb off long enough for him to shove his sweatpants and boxers down, and—yeah, okay, the confidence makes sense. You grab his wallet from his discarded pants, finding the condom and tearing it open while he strokes himself lazily, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Let me,” he says, taking it from you and rolling it on. Then his hands are on your waist, lifting you, positioning you over him. “Go slow. Take what you need.”

You sink down onto him inch by inch, and the stretch is perfect. He fills you completely, and when you’re fully seated, you both groan. “Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes, hands flexing on your hips.

You start to move, rolling your hips, finding a rhythm. His hands guide you but he lets you control the pace, watching where you’re joined with an expression that’s almost reverent. “Touch yourself,” he says, voice rough. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”

The words send a fresh wave of arousal through you. You brace one hand on his chest and bring the other between your legs, fingers finding your clit. You’re still sensitive from before, and it doesn’t take much—just a few circles while he thrusts up into you, hitting that perfect spot inside. “That’s it,” he encourages, sitting up to mouth at your neck, one hand gripping your ass to help you move. “You’re so fucking hot like this. Taking what you need.”

You’re close again, impossibly, and when he bites down on your shoulder at the same moment his cock hits deep, you shatter. Your orgasm rips through you and you feel him follow seconds later, groaning your name against your skin as he pulses inside you. You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. His hand comes up to stroke your back, gentle and grounding.

“So,” he says after a minute, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Still think I’m no different?”

You lift your head to glare at him, but there’s no heat in it. “Okay, fine. You were right.”

“Say it louder, I don’t think they heard you outside.”

You smack his chest and he laughs, catching your wrist and pressing a kiss to your palm. The gesture is surprisingly tender for what just happened. “Holy shit,” you say, the reality of the situation finally catching up. “We just fucked in Jake’s bed.”

“Yeah, we should probably…” He gestures vaguely. You climb off him carefully, and he deals with the condom while you hunt for your clothes in the dim light. There’s something surreal about getting dressed in comfortable silence after what just happened. Like you’ve done this before, even though you haven’t.

When you’re both decent, you catch sight of yourself in Jake’s mirror. Your hair is a mess, lips swollen, and there’s a hickey blooming on your collarbone. “Shit.” You touch it gingerly.

Jungwon comes up behind you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

“It’s fine.” You try to fluff your hair into something less “I just got thoroughly fucked.” “Everyone’s gonna know, though.”

“They already know.” He grins. “We weren’t exactly quiet.”

Your face heats. He’s right—you definitely weren’t quiet. “Oh god.”

“Hey.” He turns you around, hands on your shoulders. “You good? This isn’t… weird?”

You consider it. By all accounts, it should be weird. You just fucked one of your friends on a drunken bet. But looking at him now, his hair messy from your hands, expression open and a little concerned, it doesn’t feel weird. “I’m good,” you say honestly. “You?”

“I’m great.” His smile is genuine. “That was—”

“Really good,” you finish.

“Yeah.” You stand there for a beat too long, and then you clear your throat. “We should probably get back before they send a search party.”

“Right. Yeah.” He opens the door and you walk out first, down the hallway back to the living room where the entire group is absolutely not pretending they weren’t waiting for you. The silence when you walk in is deafening.

“So,” Reina says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Scale of one to ten?”

“Reina!” Maya looks mortified.

You just laugh and drop back onto the couch. “Solid eleven.” The room erupts. Jay throws a pillow at you. Sunghoon looks like he wishes he could disappear. Heeseung and Jake are cackling. Liv just gives you a knowing look and passes you a fresh drink. Jungwon sits down across from you, and when your eyes meet, he smirks. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back.

Yeah, you think, taking a long drink. This is either the best or worst decision you’ve ever made.

It’s after three AM when the party finally winds down. People are crashed on various surfaces—Niki and Sunoo sharing the big armchair, Heeseung sprawled on the floor, Jay and Sunghoon having claimed the other couch. Maya and Jake disappeared into his room about an hour ago. You’re pretty sober now, sitting on the balcony with Liv and Reina, sharing a cigarette and watching the campus lights below.

“So,” Liv says, passing you the cigarette. “You gonna talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“You fucked Jungwon.” Reina isn’t one for subtlety. You nod.

“And?”

You take a drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs before exhaling slowly. “And it was really good.”

“We gathered that from the sounds,” Reina says, grinning when you flip her off. “But like… are you gonna do it again?”

“I don’t know. Probably not?” Even as you say it, you’re not sure you believe it. “It was just a drunk thing.”

“A drunk thing where you came so hard we heard you through the door,” Liv points out. Your face heats. “Oh my god.”

“I’m just saying.” She shrugs. “That kind of chemistry doesn’t come around often. And you’re both single. Why not?”

“Because he’s part of the group,” you say, voicing the concern that’s been nagging at you since you got dressed. “If things got messy…”

“Things don’t have to get messy,” Reina says. “People have casual sex all the time.”

“Not with their friends.”

“Sure they do.” Liv stubs out the cigarette. “Look, I’m not saying marry the guy. But if you both enjoyed it and you’re both adults… I don’t see the problem.”

You don’t have a good argument for that, mainly because you’re still thinking about his hands on your body, his mouth between your legs, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. “I’ll think about it,” you say finally.

Your phone buzzes at 4:17 AM. You’re in your own bed now, having gotten an Uber home with Liv and Reina. You should be asleep but you keep replaying the night in your head.

jungwon: you up? i can’t sleep

You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back. you: same

jungwon: kept thinking about earlier

Your heart rate picks up. you: yeah?

jungwon: that okay?

you: yeah. me too

There’s a long pause where you watch the three dots appear and disappear several times.

jungwon: look, if tonight was just a one time thing, that’s cool. but if you ever wanted to do it again with no strings. you said it yourself. good sex is hard to find

You bite your lip, thumb hovering over the keyboard. This is probably a bad idea. You should say thanks but no thanks, keep things simple.

you: no strings?

jungwon: none. just two friends helping each other out

you: friends who fuck

jungwon: exactly

you: you’re sure this won’t make things weird with the group?

jungwon: only if we let it

You think about what Liv said. About chemistry and being adults and not overthinking things. you: okay

jungwon: yeah?

you: yeah. but we need rules

jungwon: rules work

you: we can talk about it tomorrow. when we’re sober

jungwon: sounds good. for the record though

you: ?

jungwon: you taste amazing

Your face goes hot and you let out an embarrassing sound even though you’re alone in your room. you: go to SLEEP jungwon

jungwon: sweet dreams 😏

You toss your phone aside and press your face into your pillow, smiling like an idiot. This is definitely a bad idea. But god, you kind of can’t wait to make it worse.

You meet Jungwon at a coffee shop off campus, neutral territory where you’re less likely to run into anyone from the group. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and you both have a gap between classes. He’s already there when you arrive, sitting in a corner booth with two iced americanos, and when he sees you, he slides one across the table. “Wasn’t sure how you take it,” he says.

“Black’s fine.” You sit down across from him, suddenly feeling weirdly nervous. Which is stupid—you’ve literally had his dick inside you. A coffee meetup shouldn’t be the awkward part. But he seems to sense it because he grins. “This is weird, right?”

“So weird,” you admit, and you both laugh, and just like that the tension breaks.

“Okay.” He leans back, fingers drumming on his cup. “Rules.”

“Rules,” you agree. “First one: no one can know.”

“Agreed. Jay and Sunghoon would lose their minds.”

“Jay would literally try to fight you.” You take a sip of coffee. “And Maya would never let me hear the end of it.”

“So we’re careful. No disappearing together at group things unless we have a good excuse.”

“And we stagger leaving,” you add. “Like, if you leave a party, I wait at least twenty minutes before I go.”

“Smart.” He nods. “What about texting?”

“Keep it normal in the group chat. If we’re gonna hook up, we text privately.”

“Works for me.” He studies you for a moment. “What about other people?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Other people?”

“Like, are we exclusive? Or can we still hook up with other people?”

It’s a fair question, even if something in your chest tightens at the thought of him with someone else. Which is stupid. This is purely physical. “We can do whatever we want,” you say carefully. “But if either of us starts hooking up with someone else regularly, we should probably end this. Easier that way.”

“Makes sense.” He seems to hesitate. “And if one of us catches feelings?”

“Then we stop immediately.” You meet his eyes. “That’s the most important rule. This only works if we’re both on the same page.”

“Agreed.” He holds out his hand across the table. “So we have a deal?”

You shake his hand, trying to ignore how warm his palm is against yours. “Deal.”

“Cool.” He doesn’t let go right away. “So… your place or mine?”

Heat pools in your stomach. “Eager?”

“You’re the one who wore that skirt.”

You glance down at your denim mini skirt, then back up at him with a smirk. “I have class in two hours.”

“That’s plenty of time.”

His apartment is closer, a small one-bedroom he shares with Heeseung who’s conveniently at class until five. The second the door closes behind you, his mouth is on yours, backing you against the wall. “Been thinking about this since Saturday,” he murmurs against your lips, hands sliding under your skirt to grip your ass.

“It’s only been three days.”

“Three days too long.” He picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his room. It’s surprisingly clean—bed made, clothes put away, posters of various bands on the walls.

He lays you on the bed and steps back, pulling his shirt over his head. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch, admiring the view. “Like what you see?” he asks, echoing your words from the other night.

“You already know I do.”

He grins and climbs over you, settling between your legs. “Want to try something?”

“Like what?”

“You’ll see.” His hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt up around your waist. “Trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, and you mean it.

He hooks his fingers in your underwear and drags them down slowly, and you’re already wet just from the anticipation. He spreads your legs wider, thumb brushing over your clit almost teasingly before he slides two fingers inside you. “Fuck,” you gasp, hips rolling against his hand.

“Still sensitive from last time?” He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them just right.

“A little.”

He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your moan as he works you open. When he adds a third finger, the stretch makes your toes curl. He finger-fucks you until you’re panting, right on the edge, and then he stops. You make a sound of protest and he laughs. “Patience.” He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a small vibrator.

Your eyes widen. “You just have that?”

“Ex left it here.” He turns it on, and the low buzz fills the room. “Never thought I’d use it, but…”

He presses it against your clit and you nearly jackknife off the bed. The sensation is intense, overwhelming, especially when he slides his fingers back inside you at the same time. “Oh fuck—Jungwon—”

“That good?” He sounds smug, but you can’t even be annoyed because he’s right. It’s so good you can barely breathe.

He works you with the vibrator and his fingers, watching your face intently, adjusting based on your reactions. When you’re close, thighs shaking, he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth through your shirt.

You come with a cry, back arching, and he doesn’t stop until you’re pushing his hand away from oversensitivity. “Holy shit,” you pant.

He turns off the vibrator and sets it aside, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Good?”

“You know it was.”

“Want to keep going?” Instead of answering, you sit up and push him onto his back, straddling him. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans, and you grind down against him, making him groan.

“Your turn,” you say, working his belt open. You take your time getting him naked, kissing down his chest and stomach, enjoying the way his muscles jump under your lips. When you finally get his jeans and boxers off, his cock springs free, already leaking. You wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly, and he hisses through his teeth.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you cut him off, and then you take him in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand flying to your hair. Not pushing, just holding on as you work him with your tongue. You take him as deep as you can, hollowing your cheeks, and the sounds he makes are incredibly satisfying.

You pull off with a wet pop. “You gonna tell me what you like?”

“That,” he says breathlessly. “I like that.”

“Be specific.” You lick up the underside of his cock. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Fuck—okay, um, tighter grip, and—yeah, just like that.” His hips buck when you comply. “And twist your hand a little when you—oh god—“

You find a rhythm that has him falling apart, alternating between your mouth and your hand, and when you cup his balls gently, he swears. “I’m close,” he warns, tugging your hair. “If you don’t want to—”

You double down, taking him deeper, and he comes with a groan, spilling down your throat. You swallow and work him through it until he’s shaking. When you pull off and wipe your mouth, he’s staring at you like you’re some kind of miracle. “You’re really good at that,” he says, voice wrecked.

“Right back at you.” You climb up to lie beside him. “This is gonna be fun.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pulling you closer. “It really is.”

The first group hangout after your arrangement starts is at someone’s house party on Thursday. One of the senior volleyball guys is throwing it, and the place is packed by the time you arrive with Liv and Reina.

You spot the guys in the backyard—Jay and Sunghoon playing beer pong against Jake and Heeseung, Sunoo and Niki smoking by the fence. And Jungwon leaning against the porch railing, red cup in hand, talking to some girl you vaguely recognize from Psychology. Something ugly twists in your chest before you can stop it.

“Don’t,” Liv says quietly.

“Don’t what?”

“You know what.” She steers you toward the drinks table. “Remember the rules.” Right. The rules. You can both do whatever you want. It doesn’t matter that the girl is touching his arm, laughing at something he said. It doesn’t matter at all. You pour yourself a strong drink and down half of it.

“There you are!” Maya appears, already tipsy, Jake trailing behind her. “We’ve been here for like an hour, where were you?”

“Reina took forever getting ready,” Liv says, throwing her under the bus.

“Excuse me, this face is a work of art.” Reina gestures at her makeup. “It takes time.”

You tune them out, eyes drifting back to Jungwon. The girl is still there, but now he’s looking at you. When your eyes meet, he says something to her and starts walking over. “Hey,” he says when he reaches your group, giving everyone a casual nod before his eyes land on you. “You just get here?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” His cup is empty. “I’m gonna grab another drink. Want to come?”

It’s a normal question. The kind of thing he might have asked before. But Maya and Reina exchange a look, and you want to die. “Sure.”

You follow him to the drinks table, hyperaware of the space between you. “That girl,” you say as he pours vodka into his cup. “From Psychology?”

“Mina. Yeah.” He adds red bull, not looking at you. “She was asking about the midterm.”

“Right.”

“You jealous?” He’s smirking now, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“No.”

“Liar.” He leans in slightly. “You look really good, by the way.”

You’re wearing low-waisted jeans and a cropped black tank top, simple but effective. “Thanks.”

“Having fun yet?”

“I just got here.”

“Want to have more fun later?” The suggestion in his voice is clear.

“Maybe.” You take a sip of your drink. “If you play your cards right.”

“Challenge accepted.”

Two hours later, you’re drunk and high and dancing in the crowded living room with Reina and some people from your Communications class. The music is too loud, bodies pressed too close, and you’re sweaty and happy and not thinking about anything.

Until hands settle on your waist from behind. You know it’s Jungwon before you even turn around—you’re getting familiar with his touch. He’s behind you, moving with you, and it takes everything in you not to lean back against him. “Thought you were playing beer pong,” you say over your shoulder.

“Got boring.” His breath is warm against your ear. “This is better.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. People will notice. But the room is dark and crowded, and everyone’s drunk, and his body feels so good against yours. You let yourself grind back against him, just a little, and his grip on your waist tightens.

“You’re trouble,” he murmurs.

“You started it.”

One of his hands slides lower, fingers playing with the belt loop of your jeans, not quite dipping under but close enough to make you ache. “Your place or mine?” he asks.

“Mine. Liv’s staying at her girlfriend’s.”

“Meet you there in twenty?”

“Make it fifteen.”

He shows up in twelve minutes. The second you open your apartment door, he’s on you, walking you backward until you hit the wall. His mouth is hot and demanding, tasting like weed and whatever he was drinking, and you can’t get enough. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he groans, hands everywhere at once.

“You were talking to that girl for like twenty minutes.”

He pulls back to look at you, grinning. “You were jealous.”

“Shut up.”

“You were.” He kisses down your neck. “That’s cute.”

“I wasn’t—” You lose your train of thought when he bites down on your pulse point.

“Whatever you say.” His hands slide under your shirt, pushing it up. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes.”

Your shirt and bra hit the floor, and then his mouth is on your breast and you stop caring about anything else. He takes his time, sucking marks into your skin that you’ll have to cover tomorrow, and when he drops to his knees in front of you, your brain short-circuits. “These too?” He’s already unbuttoning your jeans.

“Please.” He gets you naked efficiently, and then he’s lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, face level with your pussy.

“Hold on to something,” he advises, and then his tongue is on you. You grip his hair with one hand, the other braced against the wall, as he devours you. He’s not gentle about it—licking and sucking and fucking you with his tongue until your leg is shaking and you’re barely staying upright.

“Jungwon—fuck—I’m gonna fall—”

He stands up, and before you can process it, he’s lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you to your bedroom, laying you out on the bed.

“Better?” he asks.

“Much.”

He strips quickly and you admire the view—he’s fully hard, cock jutting up against his stomach. When he settles between your legs again, you expect him to reach for a condom, but instead he slides down your body. “Want to try something else,” he says, kissing your inner thigh.

“Yeah?”

“Can I go down on you while you suck me?”

Heat floods through you. “Like 69?”

“Yeah.” He looks almost nervous. “If you want.”

“Okay.” He repositions so he’s on his back, and you straddle his face, leaning forward to take his cock in your hand. The angle is different like this, and when his tongue finds your clit, you gasp.

“Fuck—sorry—” You’re distracted, and you force yourself to focus, wrapping your lips around him.

It’s intense, trying to concentrate on getting him off while he’s making you feel so good. Every time you take him deeper, he groans against your pussy, and the vibration makes you moan around him.

You’re dripping on his face, riding his tongue, and his hands grip your ass, pulling you down harder. The obscene wet sounds fill the room, and you’re so turned on you can barely see straight.

When he slides two fingers inside you while sucking your clit, you come with his cock still in your mouth, and he follows seconds later, groaning your name. You collapse beside him, both of you breathing hard. “Holy shit,” you say eventually.

“Good?”

“So good.” You turn your head to look at him. “You’re full of ideas.”

“I like making you come.” He says it so casually, like it’s a fact. “Want to see how many times I can do it.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“If you want it to be.”

You glance at the clock—it’s barely midnight. “How many orgasms are we talking?”

“How many can you handle?”

“More than you’d think.”

His smile is wicked. “Let’s find out.”

Forty minutes and two more orgasms later (one from his fingers, one from actually fucking), you’re a boneless mess in your sheets and Jungwon looks unreasonably smug. “I think I won,” he says.

“You didn’t—I made you come too—”

“Twice. You came four times.”

“It’s not a competition.”

“Everything’s a competition.” But he’s smiling, tracing lazy patterns on your hip. “You okay? Not too much?”

“I’m great.” And you are—exhausted and satisfied and floating. “You’re really good at this.”

“So are you.” He kisses your shoulder. “We work well together.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “We do.” Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it and find a string of messages in the group chat. maya: where did everyone gooooo

reina: i saw y/n leave and jungwon left like right after 👀

jay: oh god not this again

sunghoon: can we NOT

heeseung: let them live lmao

reina: i’m just SAYING

liv: leave them alone

You show Jungwon the messages and he laughs. “We’re not subtle,” he says.

“Not even a little bit.”

“Does it bother you?”

You think about it. The teasing is annoying, but it’s not like you’re ashamed. “No. Does it bother you?”

“Nah.” He stretches, all long limbs and satisfied energy. “Let them speculate. As long as we don’t confirm anything, we’re good.”

“Agreed.” You type out a response. you: i left because i was tired. stop being weird

reina: SURE

you: i hate you

reina: love you too babe 😘

You toss your phone aside and curl into Jungwon’s side. He wraps an arm around you automatically, and it feels dangerously comfortable. “Should you go?” you ask. “It’s late.”

“Do you want me to?”

You should say yes. Letting him stay feels too intimate, too couple-y. But you’re tired and warm and he’s already half-asleep. “You can stay if you want.”

“Okay.” He’s already drifting off.

You lie awake a little longer, listening to his breathing even out, trying not to think about how right this feels. It’s just sex, you remind yourself. Really good sex with someone you trust. That’s all. You almost believe it.

Friday afternoon you have Intro to Film Studies, and you’re running late because you definitely overslept after Jungwon didn’t leave until 6 AM. You slide into your usual seat next to this guy Marcus from your dorm building just as the professor starts. “Rough night?” Marcus whispers, grinning.

“Something like that.” You’re trying to focus on the lecture about French New Wave cinema when your phone buzzes.

jungwon: you left your underwear in my car

You freeze. you: WHAT

jungwon: black lace ones. very nice btw

you: how did they end up in your car???

jungwon: you really don’t remember?

And then you do remember. Wednesday night, he picked you up after your late class, you made out in his car in the parking garage, things escalated, and apparently you forgot to put all your clothes back on.

you: oh my god

jungwon: don’t worry, heeseung didn’t see them

jungwon: i hid them before he got in

you: this is a nightmare

jungwon: or it’s funny

you: WHERE ARE THEY NOW

jungwon: my pocket

you: JUNGWON

jungwon: what? they’re safe

you: you’re insane

jungwon: you like it

You bite your lip to keep from smiling, hyperaware that you’re in the middle of class. you: i’m in class

jungwon: so am i. keeps things interesting

you: i hate you

jungwon: you definitely don’t. not after the sounds you were making wednesday night

Your face goes hot. you: STOP

jungwon: come over after class?

you: can’t. studying with maya

jungwon: tomorrow?

you: there’s that party at the phi delt house

jungwon: sunday then

you: sunday works

jungwon: it’s a date

you: it’s not a date

jungwon: right. forgot. just two friends fucking

you: exactly

jungwon: can’t wait 😉

You shove your phone in your bag and try to concentrate on the lecture, but it’s useless. You’re too busy thinking about Sunday, about his hands and his mouth and the way he says your name when he comes. This is getting dangerous. But you can’t seem to stop.

The party Saturday night is massive—Phi Delt always goes hard. You show up with your girls, already tipsy from pregaming, and immediately lose track of everyone in the crowd. You’re in the kitchen mixing a drink when someone bumps into you, sloshing vodka on your hand. “Shit, sorry—oh hey!”

You turn to find Mina, the girl from Jungwon’s Psych class. Up close she’s even prettier—long dark hair, perfect skin, bright smile. “No worries,” you say, wiping your hand on your jeans.

“You’re friends with Jungwon, right?” she asks. “I’ve seen you guys together.”

Something in your chest tightens. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“He’s so sweet.” She’s making herself a drink, completely oblivious to your internal crisis. “We’ve been studying together for Psych. He’s really smart.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Are you guys like… together? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

The question catches you off guard. “Oh—no, we’re just friends.”

“Cool!” She seems genuinely relieved. “I was thinking about asking him out. Do you think he’d be into that?”

You should say yes. Or say you don’t know. You should definitely not feel like you want to throw your drink in her face, because you have no claim on Jungwon. That’s the whole point. “You should ask him,” you say, forcing a smile.

“I think I will!” She bounces off, and you’re left standing there feeling weird and hollow.

You down your drink and make another one, stronger this time. “Easy there,” a voice says, and you turn to find Jay watching you with concern. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re drinking like you’re not fine.”

“I’m just trying to have fun, Jay. Is that allowed?”

He holds up his hands. “Okay, okay. Just checking.”

You feel bad immediately. “Sorry. I’m just… it’s been a week.”

“Want to talk about it?” You shake your head no. “Does this have anything to do with Jungwon?”

Your head snaps up. “Why would it?”

“Come on.” Jay gives you a look. “I’m not stupid. Neither is Sunghoon. We know something’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Right. And you guys just happened to leave that party within five minutes of each other for completely unrelated reasons.”You don’t say anything. “Look,” Jay says, his voice gentler. “I don’t care what you guys do. You’re both adults. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I’m not going to get hurt. It’s just casual.”

“Is it?”

Before you can answer, Jungwon appears in the doorway, Mina trailing behind him. When he sees you, something flickers across his face. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

Mina touches his arm. “I’m gonna go find my friends, but text me about that study session?”

“Sure,” he says, and she leaves.

You feel Jay watching both of you. “I’m gonna go find Sunghoon,” he says pointedly. “You two… talk. Or whatever.”

When he’s gone, Jungwon moves closer. “You okay?”

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem tense.”

“I’m not tense.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t look convinced. “You want to get out of here?”

“I just got here.”

“So?”

“So people will notice.”

“Let them notice.” His hand brushes yours, brief but deliberate. “Come on. Please?”

You shouldn’t. You should stay at the party, hang out with your friends, stop making everything about him. “Fine,” you say. “But you leave first.”

You end up at his place again. Heeseung is gone for the weekend, so you have the apartment to yourselves. The second the door closes, he’s kissing you, and it feels different somehow. More desperate. Like he’s trying to prove something. “What was that about?” you ask when you break for air.

“What was what about?”

“With Mina.”

“Nothing. She wants to study together.”

“She wants to do more than study.”

He pulls back slightly, looking at you. “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“You are.” He sounds pleased.

“I’m not—we have rules, Jungwon. You can do whatever you want.”

“So can you.” His jaw tightens. “Didn’t stop me from wanting to punch Marcus when I saw him sitting next to you in the library yesterday.”

“You saw that?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re just study partners.”

“I know.” He kisses you again, softer this time. “This is stupid, right? We shouldn’t be jealous.”

“Right.”

“Because it’s just casual.”

“Exactly.” You’re both quiet for a moment.

“For the record,” he says finally, “I’m not interested in Mina. Or anyone else.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “This—what we have—it works. I don’t want to fuck it up by bringing other people into it.”

Relief washes over you. “Yeah. Same.”

“So… exclusive, then? Just while this is happening?”

“Just while this is happening,” you agree.

“Good.” He kisses you again, and this time when you end up in his bed, it feels different. Slower. More intentional.

He takes his time undressing you, kissing every inch of skin he exposes. When he finally settles between your legs, he looks up at you. “Tell me what you want,” he says.

“You.”

“Be specific.”

“I want—” You’re breathless already and he hasn’t even touched you yet. “I want your mouth.”

“Where?”

“You know where.”

“Say it.” His breath ghosts over your inner thigh.

“My pussy,” you say, face heating. “I want your mouth on my pussy.”

“Good girl.” The praise makes you clench around nothing, and then his tongue is on you and you forget how to think. He’s devastatingly thorough, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit, sliding his fingers inside you when you start to squirm. You’re panting, desperate, right on the edge when he stops.

“Jungwon—”

“Want you to come on my cock,” he says, reaching for a condom. He rolls it on and slides into you in one smooth thrust, and you both groan. The angle is perfect, hitting deep, and when he starts to move, you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes against your neck. “So wet for me.”

“Don’t stop—”

“Not stopping.” His hand slides between your bodies to rub your clit. “Want to feel you come.”

It doesn’t take long. The combination of his cock and his fingers pushes you over the edge, and you come with a cry, clenching around him. He follows right after, burying his face in your neck as he pulses inside you. You stay like that for a while, catching your breath, his weight comfortable on top of you.

“You’re staying tonight, right?” he asks eventually.

“Yeah,” you say, and you don’t even pretend to think about it. “I’m staying.”

He rolls off you to deal with the condom, and when he comes back, he pulls you against his chest. You let yourself relax into him, listening to his heartbeat slow. This is definitely more than just casual. But neither of you says it out loud.

Three months in, and you’ve gotten good at this. Really good. You and Jungwon have the routine down to an art form. You don’t leave parties together anymore—one of you leaves, the other waits at least half an hour. You vary whose place you go to. You keep your hands to yourselves during group hangouts, no lingering touches or loaded looks. In the group chat, you bicker and joke like you always have.

To everyone else, the initial excitement has worn off. Whatever was happening between you two seems to have fizzled out. Even Reina has stopped making comments. Which is perfect, because it means no one notices that you’re fucking almost every other day.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon in mid-October, and you’re sprawled across various surfaces in Jay and Sunghoon’s apartment. Maya and Jake are tangled together on the loveseat, Liv is rolling a joint at the coffee table, Reina is painting her nails on the floor. The guys are scattered around—Jay and Sunghoon playing FIFA, Heeseung scrolling his phone, Sunoo showing Niki something on his laptop. And Jungwon is sitting across from you in the armchair, looking completely relaxed, like he wasn’t buried inside you this morning before your 9 AM class.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” Reina announces. “Can we order food?”

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Sunghoon says, not looking away from the TV.

“Your point?”

Everyone starts debating what to order, and you catch Jungwon’s eye across the room. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you know exactly what he’s thinking about. This morning, you pinned against his shower wall, water streaming over both of you, his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet even though Heeseung wasn’t home. You bite your lip and look away before you start smiling like an idiot.

“Earth to Y/N,” Niki says, waving a hand in front of your face. “You alive in there?”

“What? Yeah, sorry.”

“I was asking about that guy you were telling me about.” He grins. “The one from a few weeks ago?”

Your brain stalls. “What guy?”

“You know, when we went to get coffee last week. You were telling me about hooking up with someone and how he was like, insanely good?”

Oh shit. You do vaguely remember that conversation—you and Niki had gotten coffee between classes, and he’d been asking about your dating life, and you’d maybe been too honest about how good the sex had been lately. You’d kept it vague, hadn’t mentioned names, but still. The room has gotten quiet, everyone paying attention now. “Oh,” you say, very aware of Jungwon’s eyes on you. “That was… nothing. Just some guy.”

“Some guy who’s apparently the best fuck you’ve ever had,” Niki says, looking way too entertained. “Those were your exact words.”

“Niki—”

“What? I’m just saying, that’s high praise coming from you.”

Reina sits up straighter. “Wait, hold on. You’ve been holding out on us? Who is this mystery man?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Best fuck of your life sounds like a big deal,” Liv points out, though she’s trying not to smile. She’s the only one who knows the truth, and she’s clearly enjoying watching you squirm.

“Are you still seeing him?” Maya asks.

“It’s casual.”

“Is it that guy from your Econ class?” Reina guesses. “The tall one with the man bun?”

“No.”

“The bartender from that club we went to?”

“No.”

“Give us something,” Sunoo pleads dramatically. “We need details.”

You absolutely cannot look at Jungwon. “There are no details. It’s just… casual hookups. Nothing serious.”

“But the sex is good?” Reina presses.

“Yeah,” you admit, because denying it now would be weird. “The sex is really good.”

“How good are we talking?” Heeseung asks. “Like, good good, or like, mind-blowing life-changing good?”

Your face is burning. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”

“Oh my god, it’s mind-blowing life-changing good,” Reina says gleefully. “Look at her face!”

“I hate all of you.”

“What makes it so good?” Maya asks, genuinely curious. “Like, what’s he doing that’s so different?”

“Maya!”

“What? I’m trying to learn here!”

You risk a glance at Jungwon. He’s very still, expression carefully neutral, but there’s something in his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused or something else entirely. “He just—” You struggle for words that won’t give anything away. “He pays attention, I guess? Like, he actually cares about getting me off. And he’s… confident. Knows what he’s doing.”

“Size?” Reina asks bluntly.

“Oh my god, Reina!”

“What? It’s a relevant question!”

“I’m not answering that.”

“So it’s good,” she concludes. “Noted.”

“Can we please order food now?” you beg.

Jay takes pity on you. “Yeah, let’s vote. Pizza or Thai?”

The conversation mercifully moves on, and you finally let yourself breathe. But when you glance at Jungwon again, he’s looking at his phone, jaw tight. Shit.

The group ends up ordering pizza, and by the time it arrives, you’ve almost forgotten about the awkward conversation. Almost. You’re halfway through your second slice when your phone buzzes: jungwon: can you come help me with something in the car?

You frown at the message. You all walked here, no one drove. you: what?

jungwon: just come outside for a sec

You make an excuse about needing air and head downstairs. Jungwon is waiting by the building entrance, hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Really?” He looks at you. “Best fuck of your life?”

Oh. “You’re mad about that?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You sound mad.”

“I’m not—” He runs a hand through his hair. “I just don’t love the idea of you telling Niki about us.”

“I didn’t tell him about us. I kept it vague. He doesn’t know it’s you.”

“But you were talking about me. About our sex life.”

“Is that not allowed?” You cross your arms. “We’re not together, Jungwon. I can talk to my friends.”

“I know that.” His jaw ticks. “I just—forget it.”

“No, what? Say what you’re thinking.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Did you mean it? What you said up there?”

“About what?”

“About it being the best you’ve had.”

Your stomach flips. “I… yeah. I meant it.”

His expression softens slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You step closer. “Why, did you doubt it?”

“No, I just…” He trails off, looking almost embarrassed. “I liked hearing it, I guess. Even if I wasn’t supposed to be the one hearing it.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You like it,” he says, echoing your texts from months ago.

“Maybe.” You glance back at the building. “We should go back up before someone notices.”

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. “Come over tonight?”

“Jungwon, we just saw each other this morning.”

“So?”

“So we’re supposed to be keeping this low-key.”

“I am keeping it low-key. No one suspects anything anymore.” He tugs you closer. “Please? I want to try something.”

“You always want to try something.”

“And you always like it.” He’s smirking now. “Come on. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You shouldn’t. You’re supposed to be at the library studying for your midterm tomorrow. But the way he’s looking at you makes your resolve crumble. “Fine. But I can’t stay over. I really do need to study.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

You show up at his apartment at eleven, after spending three hours actually studying with Maya. Heeseung is home this time, playing video games in the living room. “Hey,” he says when you walk in. “Jungwon’s in his room.”

“Cool, thanks.” You’ve been here enough times now that it’s not weird anymore. Heeseung barely looks up when you head down the hall and knock on Jungwon’s door.

“Come in.” He’s at his desk, laptop open, but he closes it when he sees you. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You drop your bag by the door. “What did you want to try?”

“Impatient.”

“I have a midterm at 8 AM. Get to the point.”

He stands and crosses to you, and there’s something different about his energy tonight. More intense. “I want you to tell me exactly what you want.”

“I always tell you what you want.”

“No,” he says. “You tell me when I ask. I want you to take control. Tell me exactly what to do.”

Heat pools in your stomach. “You want me to… boss you around?”

“Yeah.” His hands settle on your hips. “Think you can do that?”

“I—” You’re flustered now. You’re used to him being in charge, confident and directing everything. The idea of flipping that dynamic is…

“You don’t have to,” he says quickly. “If you’re not into it—”

“I’m into it,” you cut him off. “Just… give me a second.” He waits, patient, and you take a breath. You can do this. You’ve been sleeping together for three months. You know what he likes, what makes him fall apart.

“Okay,” you say, and your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “Take off your shirt.” He complies immediately, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.

“Jeans too.” He unbuttons them, pushes them down with his boxers, and kicks them away. He’s already half-hard, and the sight makes your mouth water.

“Lie down on the bed.” He does, and you take a moment to just look at him. He’s gorgeous like this—all lean muscle and smooth skin, cock thickening against his stomach, watching you with dark eyes.

“Touch yourself,” you say. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, and you watch, mesmerized.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“You.” His voice is rough. “Always you.”

“What about me?”

“The way you taste. The sounds you make when you come. How good you feel wrapped around my cock.”

You’re definitely wet now. You start stripping, taking your time, and his eyes track every movement. “You’re so fucking hot,” he breathes.

When you’re naked, you climb onto the bed and straddle his thighs, just out of reach. “Stop touching yourself.” He does, hand falling to his side, and you lean down to kiss him. It’s slow and deep, and when you pull back, his pupils are blown. “I want your mouth,” you say.

“Where?”

“You know where.”

“Say it.” His breath ghosts over your inner thigh.

“My pussy,” you say, face heating. “I want your mouth on my pussy.”

“Good girl.” The praise makes you clench around nothing, and then his tongue is on you and you forget how to think.

You’re straddling his face, thighs bracketing his head. The position makes you feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time. “Eat me out,” you order. “Don’t stop until I come.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His tongue finds your clit immediately, and you gasp, gripping his hair for balance. He’s good at this—you’ve known that since the very first time—but something about being in control makes it even better. “Just like that,” you pant, rolling your hips against his face. “Fuck, your tongue feels so good.”

He groans against you, hands gripping your ass, pulling you down harder. You ride his face shamelessly, chasing your pleasure, and when he slides two fingers inside you, crooking them just right while his tongue works your clit, you actually see stars. “Holy shit,” you gasp, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping the sheets.

He adds a second finger, stretching you, and the combination of his mouth and his fingers pumping into you is almost too much. You’re making sounds you’ve never made before, completely uninhibited, and he’s groaning against you like getting you off is getting him off. “Jungwon, I’m—fuck, I’m close—”

He doesn’t change what he’s doing. Doesn’t speed up or switch techniques like so many guys do right when you’re on the edge. He just keeps that same perfect rhythm, fingers curling inside you, tongue circling your clit, and you come harder than you ever have with another person. Your whole body goes taut, thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure crash over you. He works you through it, only lightening his touch when you start to squirm from sensitivity.

You’re still trembling when you climb off him, and his face is wet, lips swollen. He looks incredibly pleased with himself. “Good?” he asks.

“So good.” You kiss him, tasting yourself. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

“No?”

“No.” You wrap your hand around his cock, and he hisses. “I want to ride you. But you don’t get to touch me.”

“What?”

“Hands behind your head.” He complies, lacing his fingers behind his head, biceps flexing. You grab a condom from his nightstand and roll it on, and then you’re sinking down onto him, both of you groaning at the sensation.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel amazing.”

“No touching,” you remind him when his hands twitch.

“This is torture.”

“This is fun.” You start to move, rolling your hips, finding the angle that makes you both moan. “Watch me.”

He does, eyes glued to where you’re joined, then traveling up to your bouncing breasts, your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Tell me what you want,” you say.

“Want to touch you. Want to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress.”

“Not yet.” You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs, changing the angle. “Oh fuck—right there—”

“Yeah?” His voice is strained. “That feel good?”

“So good—” You’re close again, which should be impossible but apparently Jungwon has ruined you for anyone else. “I’m gonna come again—”

“Let me see.” His hands are fisted in his hair, knuckles white from the effort of not touching you. “Want to see you fall apart on my cock.” The words push you over the edge. You come with a cry, clenching around him, and he groans.

“Can I touch you now?” he begs. “Please—”

“Yes—”

His hands are on you immediately, gripping your hips, and he thrusts up into you hard. You’re oversensitive and it’s almost too much, but then he’s sitting up, wrapping his arms around you, and kissing you desperately. “You’re incredible,” he pants against your mouth. “Fucking incredible—”

He comes with his face buried in your neck, and you hold him through it, both of you slick with sweat. When you both catch your breath, he flops back onto the bed, bringing you with him. “That was—” he starts.

“Yeah.”

“We should do that again.”

“Definitely.” You glance at the clock and groan. “Shit, I really need to go study.”

“Stay,” he says. “Just for a little bit.”

“Jungwon—”

“Please? We can study together. I have a midterm tomorrow too.”

You should say no. Should go back to your apartment and study alone like you planned. But his arms are around you and you’re comfortable and warm, and maybe staying for an hour won’t hurt. “Fine,” you say. “One hour.” You stay for three.

A week later, you’re at another party—this one at someone’s house off campus. It’s someone’s birthday, you’re not sure whose, but the music is good and the drinks are strong and you’re having fun. You’re in the kitchen with Liv and some people from your Communications class when you see Jungwon walk in with Heeseung and Jake. He spots you immediately, and you quickly look away. You’ve been good about not staring at each other at parties. Good about acting normal.

But then some girl approaches him—blonde, pretty, wearing a crop top that shows off her abs—and you watch as she touches his arm, leans in close to say something in his ear. Your stomach twists.

“You okay?” Liv asks quietly.

“Fine.”

“You’re glaring.”

“I’m not glaring.”

“You’re definitely glaring.” She follows your gaze. “It’s just some random girl. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know that.”

But when the girl laughs at something Jungwon says, her hand still on his arm, you feel something ugly rise in your chest. This is stupid. You have no claim on him. You’re not together. He can talk to whoever he wants. You turn away and pour yourself another drink.

“Want to go dance?” Liv suggests.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You spend the next hour on the makeshift dance floor, deliberately not looking for Jungwon, deliberately not caring where he is or who he’s talking to.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

You’re getting another drink when you feel someone behind you. “Having fun?” Jungwon’s voice in your ear makes you shiver.

“Yeah. You?”

“It’s alright.” He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat. “Want to get out of here?”

“Busy tonight.”

“Busy with what?”

“Just… busy.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“You tell me.”

You turn to face him. “That girl you were talking to. She was pretty.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Liar.” He steps closer. “For the record, she asked for directions. That’s it.”

“I don’t care.”

“You clearly do.” His hand brushes yours. “Come over. Let me prove I only want you.”

You should say no. Should make him work for it. But the look in his eyes makes your resolve crumble. “Fine,” you say. “But you’re leaving first this time.”

By the time you get to his apartment, you’re both frantic. You barely make it inside before you’re tearing at each other’s clothes, kissing desperately. “You drive me crazy,” he mutters against your lips, walking you backward toward his room. “Watching you dance with those guys—”

“I wasn’t dancing with anyone specifically—”

“Didn’t matter. Wanted to punch all of them anyway.” He gets you naked and on his bed, and then he’s between your legs, and this time there’s an edge to it. Like he’s claiming you, proving something. He eats you out until you’re crying, overstimulated and desperate, and then he flips you over.

“On your knees,” he orders, and you comply, ass in the air. He slides into you from behind and you both groan. The angle is deep, almost too much, and when he starts to move, you can barely breathe.

“You feel so good,” he pants, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “So fucking perfect.”

“Harder—”

He complies, fucking into you relentlessly, and you fist the sheets, moaning into the pillow. “No one else gets to have you like this,” he growls, and the possessiveness in his voice shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. “Just me. Right?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—just you—”

One of his hands slides around to rub your clit and you come with a scream, clenching around him. He follows right after, collapsing on top of you.

When you can both move again, he pulls out carefully and you both clean up in silence. There’s something heavy in the air, something unsaid. “Stay,” he says when you start to get dressed.

“I can’t keep staying over, Jungwon. People will notice—”

“I don’t care anymore.” He catches your wrist. “Stay.”

You look at him—really look at him. His hair is a mess, lips swollen from kissing, and he’s looking at you like you’re something precious. This is getting too real. Too intense. You’re supposed to be keeping things casual, but nothing about the way you feel when you’re with him is casual anymore. “Okay,” you say quietly. “I’ll stay.”

He pulls you back into bed, and you curl into his side, listening to his heartbeat slow. “Y/N?” he says after a while.

“Yeah?”

“This thing with us…” He trails off.

Your heart pounds. “What about it?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

But you’re both thinking the same thing. This stopped being casual a long time ago. Neither of you is ready to admit it yet.

November hits campus like a cold slap. The trees are bare, everyone’s walking around in puffer jackets and beanies, and the semester is hitting that point where everyone’s exhausted and stressed and living on coffee and spite.

You’re in Advanced Marketing on a Thursday morning, half-asleep and trying to absorb information about consumer behavior models, when Professor Chen makes an announcement. “Before we start, I want to introduce a new student joining us. This is Daniel Choi—he’s transferring from NYU. Daniel, why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”

You glance up and—oh. Daniel is tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair styled back, and an easy smile. He’s wearing a navy sweater that probably costs more than your textbooks, and when he speaks, his voice is warm and confident. “Hey everyone. I’m a junior, majoring in Marketing and Communications. Just moved here from New York, so still figuring out the campus. Looking forward to getting to know you all.”

“Wonderful,” Professor Chen says. “Why don’t you take that seat next to Y/N? Y/N, raise your hand?”

You do, reluctantly, and Daniel makes his way over, sliding into the seat beside you. “Hey,” he says, smile widening. “Thanks for letting me sit here.”

“It’s not really my seat to give, but sure.”

He laughs. “Fair point. I’m Daniel.”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Then Professor Chen launches into the lecture, and you try to focus, but you’re aware of Daniel beside you—the way he takes notes on his laptop, occasionally glancing over at your notebook like he’s comparing, the expensive cologne that’s subtle but noticeable.

When class ends, he turns to you. “Hey, I know this is random, but do you think you could help me out? I’m completely lost on where anything is on this campus.”

“There are maps—”

“I know, but they’re confusing as hell.” He gives you a slightly sheepish look. “And Professor Chen mentioned you’re a great student. I could use someone to show me around, maybe fill me in on what I’ve missed in class so far?”

You should say no. You’re busy. You have your own classes and your friends and your… whatever Jungwon is. But Daniel seems nice, and it’s just showing someone around campus. “Sure,” you find yourself saying. “I have a break after this. I can give you a quick tour.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” His smile is genuinely grateful. “Can I at least buy you coffee?”

You spend the next hour showing Daniel around campus—the library, the student center, the various academic buildings, the good food spots versus the ones to avoid. He’s easy to talk to, asking questions about classes and professors, and he’s funny in a dry, clever way that makes you laugh.

“So NYU to here,” you say as you walk past the quad. “That’s a big change.”

“Yeah.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “My dad got relocated for work, and the family moved. Figured I’d come with them rather than stay in New York alone. Plus, cheaper tuition as an in-state student.”

“That’s fair. How are you liking it so far?”

“Campus is nice. People seem cool.” He glances at you. “Present company especially.” It’s flirty but not obnoxiously so, and you feel your face warm slightly.

“Wait until you experience your first real winter here,” you say, deflecting. “Then we’ll see if you still think it’s nice.”

“I’m from New York. I can handle cold.”

“This is different. This is Midwest cold. The kind that hurts your face.”

He laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You show him a few more buildings, and by the time you’re done, your break is almost over. “This was really helpful,” Daniel says. “Seriously, thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Can I get your number? In case I have questions about class or campus stuff?” It’s innocent enough. Just a new student wanting help navigating. You give him your number. “Thanks.” He saves it in his phone. “I’ll see you next class?”

“Yeah, see you.” You watch him walk away, and you’re surprised to find yourself smiling a little.

You don’t think much about Daniel over the next few days. You’re busy with midterms and work and your friends. And Jungwon. Especially Jungwon.

You’ve been spending even more time together lately—studying at his place, grabbing food between classes, and obviously still hooking up regularly. It’s gotten to the point where you have a toothbrush at his apartment and he has spare clothes at yours. It should worry you how domestic it’s becoming. It doesn’t.

You’re at his place on Saturday night, both of you on his bed with your laptops, supposedly working on separate assignments but really just procrastinating together. “I’m so sick of this essay,” you groan, flopping backward.

“How much do you have left?”

“Like, three pages.”

“That’s not bad.”

“It’s three pages I don’t want to write.” You roll over to look at him. “Entertain me.”

“I’m busy.”

“No you’re not. You’ve been on the same paragraph for twenty minutes.”

He closes his laptop with a sigh. “Fine. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Something that isn’t homework.”

He shifts closer, hand sliding up your thigh. “I can think of something.”

“We literally had sex an hour ago.”

“So?”

You laugh and push his hand away. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only with you.” He’s smiling but there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest tight.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it and see a text from an unknown number.

unknown: hey! it’s daniel from marketing class. hope this isn’t weird but i had a question about the assignment due next week?

You smile and save his contact. you: not weird at all! what’s your question?

“Who’s that?” Jungwon asks, and there’s an edge to his voice.

“New guy in my marketing class. He transferred from NYU.”

“And he’s texting you?”

“He had a question about the assignment.” You glance at Jungwon. “Why?”

“No reason.” But his jaw is tight, and you recognize that look. He’s jealous.

Your phone buzzes again. daniel: professor chen mentioned something about a group project? do you know if groups are assigned or if we pick our own?

you: we pick our own! usually groups of 3-4. i can add you to mine if you want? we still need one more person

daniel: that would be amazing. thank you! also totally unrelated but are you free tomorrow? wanted to check out that coffee place you mentioned and could use the company

You hesitate. It’s just coffee. Daniel is nice, and he’s new and doesn’t know anyone. It would be rude to say no. you: sure! i’m free around 2?

daniel: perfect. i’ll meet you there

You set your phone down and find Jungwon staring at you. “What?”

“You’re getting coffee with him?”

“He’s new. He doesn’t know anyone. I’m being nice.”

“Right. Nice.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“Jungwon, it’s just coffee.”

“Does he know that?”

“Know what?”

“That it’s ‘just coffee.’ Or does he think it’s a date?”

You sit up. “It’s not a date. We’re literally just getting coffee. Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do.”

“I just—” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Never mind. Do whatever you want.”

“I am doing whatever I want. That’s kind of the point of this arrangement, remember?”

The words come out harsher than you intended, and something flashes across his face—hurt, maybe, or anger, you can’t tell. “Right,” he says quietly. “The arrangement.”

The air between you feels heavy, wrong. You want to take it back, to explain that you don’t actually want to get coffee with Daniel, that you’d rather spend tomorrow with Jungwon like you spend most days. But you don’t say any of that. “I should go,” you say instead, closing your laptop. “It’s late.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I have an early class tomorrow anyway.” You gather your stuff quickly, and Jungwon doesn’t try to stop you. When you leave, he doesn’t ask you to stay like he usually does. You tell yourself it’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Coffee with Daniel is actually really nice. He’s waiting outside the café when you arrive, and he lights up when he sees you. “Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.”

Inside, the place is cozy and warm, smelling like espresso and cinnamon. You order your usual and Daniel gets some complicated drink with like five different modifiers. “High maintenance,” you tease as you find a table by the window.

“I know what I like,” he says, grinning. “Can’t fault me for that.”

You spend the next hour just talking. He tells you about growing up in New York, his family, his friends back home. He asks about your life, your major, your friends. He’s a good listener, asking follow-up questions, seeming genuinely interested. It’s easy. Comfortable. And he’s cute—you can’t deny that. The way he smiles, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. The way he leans forward when you’re talking, giving you his full attention.

“So,” he says eventually, stirring his drink. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend, or… partner? I don’t want to assume.”

Your stomach drops. “I—no. Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” He raises an eyebrow, curious, not pushy.

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

You shouldn’t tell him. It’s none of his business. But something about the way he’s looking at you, open and interested, makes you want to talk about it. “There’s this guy,” you say slowly. “We’ve been… hooking up. For a few months now. It’s supposed to be casual but lately it feels like…”

“Like it’s not casual anymore?” Daniel finishes.

“Yeah.”

“Does he know you feel that way?”

“I don’t know. We don’t really talk about it.” You take a sip of your coffee. “It’s stupid. We had rules. No feelings, no complications. And I’m the one who’s complicating it.”

“Feelings aren’t stupid,” Daniel says gently. “And if he’s worth anything, he feels the same way.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then he’s an idiot.” He smiles. “For what it’s worth, any guy who has you and doesn’t want more is definitely an idiot.”

It’s sweet. Maybe a little too sweet, a little too flirty, but you find yourself smiling back. “Thanks, Daniel.”

“Anytime.” He checks his phone. “Shit, I have to go. Meeting my parents for dinner. But this was really fun. We should do it again?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“Cool.” He stands, shrugging on his jacket. “See you in class Tuesday?”

“See you then.” You watch him leave, and you’re not sure how to feel. Daniel is nice. He’s attractive and smart and funny, and he’s clearly interested in you. But he’s not Jungwon. Your phone buzzes.

jungwon: you busy tonight?

You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back. you: studying with maya. why?

It’s a lie. You don’t have plans. But you need space to think, to figure out what you’re doing.

jungwon: nothing. just wanted to see you. have fun studying

The guilt sits heavy in your chest.

You avoid Jungwon for the next few days. It’s not hard—you claim you’re busy with midterms and assignments, which is partially true. But really, you just need time to sort through your feelings.

Because the truth is, you’re falling for him. Have been falling for him for months now. And the idea of telling him and having him not feel the same way, of losing what you have, terrifies you. So you throw yourself into other things. Classes. Assignments. Your friends. And Daniel.

He texts you throughout the week—memes, questions about class, random observations about campus life. It’s friendly and light and uncomplicated. You tell yourself that’s why you respond, why you agree to study together in the library, why you sit next to him in Marketing and laugh at his whispered jokes during lectures. But you know that’s not entirely true. You know you’re using Daniel as a distraction. And it’s not fair to him.

On Thursday, you’re leaving your Marketing class with Daniel when you run into the group. Literally—you turn a corner and almost collide with Maya and Jake.

“Oh! Hey!” Maya says, then notices Daniel. “Who’s this?”

“This is Daniel. He’s new. Daniel, this is Maya and Jake.”

“Nice to meet you,” Daniel says, friendly and charming.

“You too,” Maya says, but she’s giving you a look. “We’re all getting lunch. You want to come?”

“Oh, um—”

“You should definitely come,” Jake says. “Whole group’s gonna be there.” Your stomach sinks. Whole group means Jungwon.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Daniel starts.

“You’re not intruding,” Maya insists. “The more the merrier. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you say weakly.

Lunch is at the student center food court, and by the time you arrive with Daniel, everyone else is already there—Maya and Jake, Liv and Reina, Jay and Sunghoon, Heeseung and Sunoo and Niki. And Jungwon. He’s sitting at the end of the table, and when he sees you walk in with Daniel, something shutters in his expression.

“Everyone, this is Daniel,” you announce. “He just transferred here.”

Everyone introduces themselves, welcoming and friendly, and Daniel fits in easily. He’s charming and funny, and within minutes, he’s got Reina laughing at some story about his first week on campus. You sit across from Jungwon, and the tension is suffocating.

“So Daniel,” Sunghoon says. “Where’d you transfer from?”

“NYU.”

“Damn, that’s a downgrade,” Heeseung jokes, and everyone laughs.

“I don’t know,” Daniel says, and his hand brushes yours on the table. “I’m liking it here so far.” The touch is casual, probably meaningless. But Jungwon’s eyes lock onto it, and his jaw clenches.

“How do you and Y/N know each other?” Niki asks.

“We have Marketing together,” you say quickly. “I’ve been helping him get caught up.”

“Y/N’s been a lifesaver,” Daniel adds. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.” It’s innocent. Friendly. But the way he’s looking at you is… not. And Jungwon sees it.

“That’s nice,” Jungwon says, voice flat. “Y/N’s good at helping people.” There’s an undercurrent there that makes you flinch.

The conversation moves on, everyone eating and talking, but you’re hyperaware of Jungwon across from you. He’s barely touched his food, just pushing it around his plate, and every time Daniel says something that makes you smile, Jungwon’s expression gets darker.

“So Y/N,” Reina says. “You still seeing that mystery guy? The one who’s so good in bed?”

You want to die. “Reina—”

“What? I’m just asking!”

“What mystery guy?” Daniel asks, curious.

“There’s no mystery guy,” you say firmly. “Reina’s making stuff up.”

“I’m literally not. You told Niki about him.”

“That was months ago.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone?” Daniel asks, and there’s hope in his voice.

Before you can answer, Jungwon stands abruptly. “I gotta go. Got class.”

“But we just sat down,” Heeseung protests.

“I forgot I have to talk to my professor about something.” He grabs his bag and leaves without looking at you. The table goes quiet for a beat.

“What’s up with him?” Jake asks.

“No idea,” Sunoo says, but he’s looking at you thoughtfully.

“Maybe he’s not feeling well,” Maya suggests.

You know that’s not it. You know exactly what’s wrong. “I should—” You start to stand. “I should check on him.”

“Why?” Reina asks.

“Because we’re friends. And he seemed upset.”

“I’ll come with you,” Daniel offers.

“No,” you say, too quickly. “I mean—you should stay. Finish eating. I’ll be right back.”

You don’t wait for a response before hurrying after Jungwon. You catch him outside the building, heading toward the parking lot. “Jungwon, wait!” He stops but doesn’t turn around. “What was that?” you ask when you reach him.

“What was what?”

“You know what. Walking out like that.”

He finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes makes your chest hurt. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.”

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“You really don’t know?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You show up with that guy, he’s all over you, looking at you like—” He breaks off, running a hand through his hair. “And you’re just letting it happen.”

“He’s not all over me. We’re friends.”

“Does he know that? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like he thinks you’re something more.”

“Even if he did, why do you care? We’re not together, remember? That’s the whole point.”

“Right,” he says bitterly. “The arrangement. How could I forget?”

“Jungwon—”

“Are you into him?”

The question catches you off guard. “What?”

“Daniel. Are you into him?”

“I—no. Not like that.”

“But you could be.” It’s not a question. “If things were different. If we weren’t…” He gestures between you, unable to finish the sentence.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “Maybe. He’s nice. And he’s—”

“Uncomplicated,” Jungwon finishes. “He’s not sneaking around. He could actually take you on dates, be seen with you, give you what you want.”

“What I want?”

“More.” He steps closer. “You want more than this, Y/N. I can see it. And I can’t—”

He stops, and your heart is pounding. “You can’t what?”

“I can’t give you that.” His voice is rough. “This—us—it’s supposed to be casual. No strings. That’s what we agreed.”

“And what if I don’t want casual anymore?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “What if I want more?”

He stares at you, and for a moment you think he’s going to say it—that he wants more too, that this has been killing him the same way it’s been killing you. But then he looks away. “I can’t,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

It feels like the ground has been pulled out from under you. “Right,” you manage. “Okay.”

“It’s fine.” You’re backing away, fighting tears. “You’re right. This was always supposed to be casual. My mistake for thinking it could be anything else.”

“That’s not—”

“I should get back. Everyone’s waiting.” You turn and walk away before he can say anything else, before you completely fall apart in front of him.

When you get back to the table, Daniel takes one look at your face and frowns. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “Just… tired. Long week.”

“Want me to walk you home?”

You should say no. Should put some distance between you and Daniel before this gets messy. But you’re hurt and angry and you don’t want to be alone. “Yeah,” you say. “That’d be nice.”

As you leave with Daniel, you don’t see Jungwon watching from across the quad, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like his world just fell apart.

You don’t talk to Jungwon for the rest of the week. He texts a few times— casual messages asking how you are, if you want to study, if you’re okay. You respond with short, noncommittal answers.

The group notices. How could they not? You and Jungwon have been attached at the hip for months, and suddenly you can barely be in the same room. “What happened between you two?” Liv asks when you’re alone in your apartment.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been miserable all week.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re avoiding him. And he’s been moping around like someone kicked his puppy.” You don’t answer, just stare at your laptop screen without actually seeing it. “Did something happen with Daniel?” she presses gently.

“No. Daniel’s just a friend.”

“Does Jungwon know that?”

“It doesn’t matter what Jungwon thinks.”

Liv is quiet for a moment. “You should talk to him. Actually talk. Because this? This is worse than whatever you’re avoiding.”

You know she’s right. But you’re scared. Scared that if you talk to Jungwon, you’ll have to end things for real. That you’ll have to accept that he doesn’t want what you want, that these past few months have meant something completely different to him than they have to you.

So you do what you’ve been doing—you avoid him. And you spend more time with Daniel.

It’s Friday night, and there’s a party at some senior’s house. You show up with Liv and Reina, already a few drinks in from pregaming, and the place is packed. You lose your friends almost immediately in the crowd. You’re making your way to the kitchen when you spot Daniel. “Hey!” He brightens when he sees you. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.” You’re definitely drunker than you thought. “Having fun?”

“More fun now.” He hands you a drink. “Here. It’s strong, fair warning.” You take it and down half of it in one go. “Rough week?” he asks.

“Something like that.”

The music is loud, bass thumping through your chest, and Daniel leans in closer to be heard. “Want to go somewhere quieter? Maybe talk?”

You should say no. You know where this is going, and it’s not fair to Daniel or to yourself or to— “Sure,” you say.

He leads you upstairs, finding an empty bedroom, and closes the door behind you. It muffles the music, making it easier to hear. “Better?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He sits on the bed and you sit next to him, suddenly very aware that you’re alone together in a bedroom. “Can I ask you something?” Daniel says.

“Sure.”

“That guy you mentioned. The complicated one. Is it… are you still involved with him?”

You take another sip of your drink. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s complicated.”

“Does he know how you feel?”

“I told him. He made it pretty clear he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Then he’s an idiot.” Daniel shifts closer. “Because you’re incredible, Y/N. Smart and funny and beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to be with you.”

“Daniel—”

“I like you,” he says. “I know we just met, and maybe the timing is shit, but I really like you. And if this other guy can’t see what he has, then…”

He trails off, and then he’s leaning in, and you realize he’s going to kiss you. You should stop him. You should explain that you’re not over Jungwon, that you’re not in a place to start something new.

But you’re drunk and hurt and you want to feel wanted by someone who isn’t afraid to show it. So you let him kiss you. It’s nice. He’s a good kisser— soft lips, careful hands, nothing like—

The door opens. “Y/N, Liv’s looking for—” Jungwon stops dead in the doorway.

You jerk back from Daniel, but it’s too late. Jungwon saw. And the look on his face— betrayal and hurt and anger all mixed together—makes your stomach drop. “Jungwon—”

“Sorry,” he says, voice tight. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He’s gone before you can say anything else, door slamming behind him. “Shit,” you breathe.

“Who was that?” Daniel asks.

“I—” You stand up, suddenly feeling very sober. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, wait—” But you’re already out the door, pushing through the crowded hallway, trying to find Jungwon. You catch him on the front porch, about to leave.

“Jungwon, wait!” He stops, shoulders tense, but doesn’t turn around. “It’s not— that wasn’t—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he says, finally facing you. “You can kiss whoever you want.”

“It didn’t mean anything—”

“Didn’t it?” His eyes are hard. “Looked like it meant something.”

“I was just—I was upset and drunk and he was there—”

“And I wasn’t,” Jungwon finishes. “Because you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“You told me you couldn’t give me more! What did you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know!” He’s yelling now, and a few people on the porch are staring. “I don’t know, Y/N. But I didn’t expect you to move on in a fucking week.”

“I’m not moving on! And even if I was, why do you care? You made it clear you don’t want—”

“I never said I didn’t want—” He breaks off, jaw clenched. “Fuck.”

“What? You never said you didn’t want what?”

“You!” The word explodes out of him. “I never said I didn’t want you. I said I couldn’t give you more, and that’s different.”

You stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I’m terrified, okay?” His voice cracks. “I’m terrified because this stopped being casual for me months ago, and I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest. “Jungwon—”

“I see the way Daniel looks at you. Like you’re everything. And I want to be that guy— the one who can take you on dates and hold your hand in public and tell everyone you’re mine. But I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. That I’ll lose you completely.”

“So instead you’re losing me anyway,” you say quietly. He flinches like you hit him. “I’m falling for you,” you continue, and the words feel like jumping off a cliff. “I’ve been falling for you for months. And it’s been killing me because I thought you didn’t feel the same way.”

“I do,” he says desperately. “I do feel the same way. I just—”

“You just what?”

“I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Jungwon, we’ve already ruined it. Pretending we can keep things casual when we both feel more—that’s what’s ruining it.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, and you can see him struggling with something. “If we do this,” he says finally, “if we make this real— what if it doesn’t work? What if we end up hating each other?”

“What if we don’t?” you counter. “What if it’s amazing?”

“What about the group? If things go bad—”

“We’ll figure it out. But Jungwon, I’d rather try and fail than spend the rest of my life wondering what if.”

He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your face, and then— “Fuck it,” he mutters, and then he’s kissing you.

It’s different from every other kiss you’ve shared. More desperate, more meaningful. Like he’s pouring everything he couldn’t say into it.

When you break apart, you’re both breathless. “So,” you manage. “Does this mean—”

“It means I want to be with you. For real. No more hiding, no more pretending.” He cups your face in his hands. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“Even the group?”

“Especially the group.” He smiles, and it’s tentative but real. “They probably already know anyway.”

You laugh, and it feels like relief. “Probably.”

“What about Daniel?”

“I’ll talk to him. Explain. But Jungwon, there’s nothing there. It’s always been you.”

“Yeah?” His smile widens.

“Yeah.” He kisses you again, softer this time, and you hear whooping from inside the house. You break apart to find half your friend group watching from the window—Reina and Liv and Maya and the guys all grinning like idiots.

“FINALLY!” Reina screams, and everyone laughs. Jungwon pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you, and for the first time in weeks, everything feels right.

“So,” he murmurs against your hair. “Want to get out of here? I think we have some things to talk about.”

“And by talk you mean—”

“Actually talk,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “We should probably figure out how to actually do this relationship thing.”

“We should,” you agree. “But maybe we can do the talking back at your place? I’m still kind of drunk and these heels are killing me.” He laughs and takes your hand— openly, for everyone to see— and leads you toward his car.

As you leave, you glance back at the house and catch Daniel watching from the doorway. He looks sad but understanding, and he raises his cup in a small salute. You mouth “sorry,” and he nods. You’ll explain everything to him later. Right now, you just want to be with Jungwon.

You wake up to sunlight streaming through Jungwon’s window and his arm draped across your waist. For a moment, you just lie there, listening to his steady breathing, trying to process that this is real now. You’re actually dating Jungwon. Your phone buzzes— multiple times. You reach for it and find the group chat exploding.

reina: SO ARE WE GONNA TALK ABOUT LAST NIGHT OR

maya: I KNEW IT

liv: you all owe me $20 btw

jay: jungwon if you hurt her i’m fighting you

you: good morning to you too

reina: GOOD MORNING??? THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY???

you: yes we’re official

reina: EXTREMELY

you: and we’ve been hooking up since that party in august

heeseung: AUGUST?????

reina: I FUCKING KNEW IT

Jungwon stirs beside you, eyes fluttering open. When he sees you, he smiles— soft and sleepy and genuine. “Morning,” he says, voice rough.

“Morning.” You show him your phone. “We’re famous.”

He scrolls through, laughing. “They’re ridiculous.”

jungwon: i’m not going to hurt her

jay: good

reina: now that that’s settled TELL US EVERYTHING

The “mandatory celebration” ends up being at Jay and Sunghoon’s that evening. By the time you and Jungwon arrive— together, holding hands— everyone else is already there. “THERE THEY ARE!” Reina shouts. “The happy couple!”

Maya rushes over to hug you. “I’m so happy for you!”

Jake hands you both drinks. “So, real talk. How long have you actually had feelings for each other?”

“I’ve liked her since before we started hooking up,” Jungwon says. “Remember that party in July? When you wore that black dress?”

Your face is burning. “You never said anything.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t think you were interested. And then the bet happened and… well, you know the rest.”

“What about you?” Liv asks.

“Probably that first morning after,” you admit. “When we were texting about the arrangement and he was being all careful. That’s when I started thinking he might be different.”

Several drinks later, everyone’s sprawled around the living room. You’re tucked into Jungwon’s side on the couch, and it feels so natural. “Real talk,” Jay says, tone serious. “I’m happy for you guys. But—” He looks at Jungwon. “—you hurt her, and we have a problem.”

“I know. And I’m not going to hurt her. I’m—” He looks at you. “—I’m in love with her.”

The room goes silent. Your heart stops. “What?” you whisper.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I was just too scared to say it.”

“I love you too, you idiot.” You’re shaking your head. “I’ve been in love with you for months.” His smile is brilliant. He kisses you, and this time it’s softer, more tender.

“Okay, we’re leaving,” Reina announces. “Before this gets too cute.”

After everyone leaves, you and Jungwon stay on the couch. “I meant what I said,” he murmurs. “About loving you.”

“I meant it too.” You shift to straddle his lap. “I love you, Jungwon.”

He cuts you off with a kiss. “Want to go home?”

You end up at his place. The second you’re inside, he’s on you, kissing you with urgency. “Bedroom,” you gasp.

“Too far.” He lifts you, carries you to the couch. You land in a tangle of limbs, laughing, then his mouth is on your neck. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“Show me,” you challenge.

He does. He takes his time undressing you, kissing every inch of skin. When you’re both finally naked, he hovers over you. “This is different now. Better,” he says. “I get to keep you.”

“You always had me.”

“I know. But now I don’t have to pretend I don’t want forever.”

“Forever?”

“Too soon?”

“No.” You pull him down. “Not too soon.”

He makes love to you slowly, thoroughly. More intimate. More real. Every touch feels like a confession. He enters you with a groan, and you wrap your legs around him. The rhythm is unhurried, sensual. He angles his hips just right, and his hand slides between your bodies to rub your clit. “God, you feel so perfect,” he breathes. “So tight and wet for me.”

“Jungwon— fuck— don’t stop—” He doesn’t. He keeps that perfect pace until you’re trembling. When you come, clenching around him, he follows right after with a moan of your name.

When you’re both spent on his couch, you feel something settle in your chest. “We should move to the bed,” he says eventually.

“Heeseung’s going to be home soon.” You gather clothes and make it to his room. “Stay,” he says.

“Obviously.” You curl into his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The next morning, you wake to Jungwon’s alarm. Your head is pounding. “Turn it off,” you groan.

“We have brunch in an hour.”

Forty-five minutes later— after a shower where Jungwon pressed you against the tile and made you come on his fingers— you’re dressed and heading to the diner. You walk in holding hands. The sight of your friend group crammed into booths makes you smile.

“There they are!” Maya calls. You slide in next to Liv, Jungwon beside you, arm over your shoulders.

“So,” Sunoo says. “Now that you guys are official, does this mean we have to watch you be gross?”

“We’re not going to be gross,” you protest.

Jungwon immediately kisses your cheek. “Can’t promise that.”

“How long did you actually know?” you ask.

“I knew from the start,” Liv says. “You’re my roommate. You think I didn’t notice when you’d come home at 3 AM with hickeys?”

The conversation shifts to other topics, and it’s easy. Normal. Like nothing’s changed except now you don’t have to hide.

Later that day, you’re back at Jungwon’s, on the couch watching a movie. “Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Always.”

“Why did you kiss Daniel?”

“Honestly? I was drunk and hurt and he was there. It was stupid.”

“Did you… were you interested in him?”

“No.” You shift to look at him. “He’s nice, but I was so hung up on you.”

“Good.” He kisses you. “Because I was losing my mind.”

“Every time I was with him, I kept thinking about you.”

“You have me now.” His arms tighten. “For as long as you want me.”

“Forever, remember?”

“Forever,” he agrees.

“Want to order food and spend the rest of the day in bed?”

“Is that code for something?”

“Food, bed, probably some making out, definitely a nap.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Later that night, after Chinese food and another round of sex— with you riding him while he gripped your hips and watched you with dark eyes— you’re lying in his bed. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For being brave enough to tell me how you felt. I would have lost you if you hadn’t.”

“You wouldn’t have lost me. I was too far gone.”

“Speaking of which,” he says. “You could just keep some more stuff here. Make it official.”

“Jungwon, we’ve been officially dating for less than 24 hours.”

“So? We’ve been unofficially together for months.”

He has a point. “Fine. I’ll bring some stuff over tomorrow.” And he’s grinning from ear to ear

Three weeks later, you’re at another party— pre-Thanksgiving. This time, everything’s different. You and Jungwon arrive together, hands intertwined. When he pulls you onto the dance floor, you don’t worry about who’s watching. “Having fun?” he asks.

“So much fun.” You loop your arms around his neck. “This is better than hiding.”

“Way better.” He kisses you.

Later, in the kitchen, Daniel approaches. You haven’t really talked since that night. “Hey,” he says. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.” Jungwon gives your hand a squeeze and steps away.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Daniel starts. “For that night. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have been clearer. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“It’s okay. I get it now.” He glances at Jungwon. “That’s him, right?”

“Yeah. Not so complicated anymore.”

“Good. You seem happy.”

“I am. Really happy.” You hesitate. “Are we okay?”

“We’re okay. Friends?”

“Friends,” you agree.

He leaves, and Jungwon returns to your side. “That looked like it went well.”

“It did.” You lean into him. “Everything’s good.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Everything’s really good.”

You stay like that, watching your friends scattered around— your family. And Jungwon, solid and warm behind you. “I love you,” you say.

“I love you too.” He kisses your neck. “Want to get out of here?”

“And do what?”

“Go back to my place. Watch a movie. Make out. Order food. Fall asleep together. All the boring couple stuff.”

“That sounds perfect.” You say goodbye to your friends and head out.

“Your place or mine?” Jungwon asks.

“Yours. I already have a toothbrush there.”

He grins. “Look at us, being all domestic.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

As he drives through the quiet streets, his hand finds yours, and you think about how different things were just months ago. When you were both pretending, both scared, both holding back. And now you’re here. Together. For real. “What are you thinking about?” Jungwon asks.

“Just… how happy I am. How glad I am that we figured this out.”

“Me too.” He brings your joined hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Best decision I ever made.”

“Proving you could make me come?”

He laughs. “No. Although that was a good decision too. I meant taking a chance on this. On us.”

“We both took a chance.”

“And it paid off.”

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “It really did.”

Back at his apartment, you fall into your routine— changing into his drawer of your clothes, brushing teeth side by side, collapsing onto his bed. “Movie?” he asks.

“Sure. Nothing too intense though.” He puts on a comedy, and you curl into his side. This is your favorite part. Not the sex— though that’s amazing— but this. The quiet moments. The casual intimacy.

“Hey Y/N?” Jungwon says softly.

“Hmm?”

“I’m really glad you’re mine.”

You lift your head. “I’m glad I’m yours too. And that you’re mine.”

“Always,” he promises, and kisses you.

Lying there in his arms, warm and safe and loved, you believe him. This is just the beginning. And you can’t wait to see where it goes.

[lac4ygal]

Thank you so much for 3000 notes!! This is crazy I didn’t expect this fic to blow up, I appreciate this so much💓💓💓💓💓💓

[en-thezone]

HOW LYING FUCKED UP MY LIFE FOR A MONTH | N.RK

PAIRING: Nishimura Riki x female!reader

GENRE: college!au, smut, paranormal!au, strangers to lovers

SUMMARY: Best friends would do anything for each other, right? So when you tell a little lie to save your friend Minju’s ass, a punishment falls on your doorstep from the Witches' Council: do not lie for an entire lunar cycle. What you thought was simple starts to get complicated when you can't keep your mouth shut and honesty oozes out of your pores in the most uncomfortable and awkward situations. Add Riki Nishimura to the mix, the sharp-eyed boy who starts to take an interest in your sincerity.

WORDS: 21k+.

WARNINGS AND CONTENT: strangers to lovers, reader is a magnet to chaos, explicit smut, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, spanking, praise, overstimulation, Niki big cock agenda, just Niki being a menace in general.

The Witch's Council chambers was an old place outside town that smelled like wood, incense and power. You could easily sense the magic and power like it was engraved in the air, strong and ancient. But the old-fashioned look was interrupted by modern touches: new chairs, a wall projector and council members with iPads, some others playing with their phones. Not the entire council was present; only the president, Na Seorin, and the vice president, Kim Junseo, Minju's father. Off to one side stood the council secretary, Lee Sunjae, who seemed more engrossed in his phone than in what was happening around him, wearing a deep, concentrated frown. He was very, very focused on his phone and at some point he even leaned towards Seorin, asking her if she could send him lives on Candy Crush. She silenced him with an unimpressed look.

There was a small jury of witches and warlocks that you obviously knew, uncles and aunts and even parents of some friends, people who you grew up around. You were sitting with Minju on a wooden bench at the front, being judged in a very dramatic fashion in your opinion. Your back was straight and your knees touching and Minju wore the same position, you could feel the nervousness radiating from her. You didn’t quite know why you'd been summoned there with her, but hell, you wouldn't open your mouth to incriminate yourself until someone else started the whole thing. What was worse, you and Minju didn't have time to talk and organize a lie together.

‘’We are here to clarify the events of last Friday that have caught our attention,’’ Minju’s dad started, voice calm. He turned to face the jury. ‘’We have sufficient reasons to believe that both witches are involved.’’

You raised both eyebrows and tilted your head, wondering what on earth was going on. You weren’t involved in shit. Beside you, Minju whimpered under her breath, probably knowing where this whole thing was heading. Junseo turned his attention towards you and it took everything in you not to shrink under his steel gaze. He looked like a very offended father. 

‘’You are a well-known associate of Kim Minju. You grew up together and are very close, as we all know. Responsible, respectful, talented with magic, and disciplined.’’

‘’Thank you, sir,’’ you muttered, lowering your head humbly and nodding. You heard one juror behind you cooing and telling another how polite you were. 

‘’Did Minju attend a fraternity party Friday night?’’ He asked.

Oh, so that's what this was all about. You lied without even thinking, in a steady voice, even frowning slightly as if you were confused that he even asked you that. ‘’Um, of course not. She spent the night with me; we were catching up on some reading. It was a quiet night, and we went to bed early.’’

You knew perfectly well that was a damn lie. The last thing Minju would do is spend a Friday cooped up inside studying instead of following Jungwon, her campus crush, to parties. You knew Minju was pretty easygoing and a lightweight, so alcohol wasn't exactly the wisest thing to give her, since chaos usually followed her wherever she went. When you asked her the next day how the party was, Minju only remembered maybe a quarter of it, not even a half. You weren't entirely sure what Minju had done to warrant a damn jury of witches, but you were going to defend your best friend no matter what anyway. Minju was... prone to getting into strange situations. You were used to it. 

You turned your face and smiled innocently at the jury trying to sell your act; some thoughtful murmurs reached you while others simply nodded in agreement. You looked at Junseo as if nothing was wrong, with an open and friendly expression, nothing challenging or mocking. His eyes studied your expression and Minju's in a very familiar way, like when you were little and he wanted to find out which of you had eaten the whole drawer of chocolates.

‘’I don't know exactly what this is about, but I guess the only thing I can assure Minju did was snore very loudly,’’ you joked with a chuckle. ‘’We had a super quiet Friday, sir.’’

Minju gave you a playful nudge and you both giggled adorably, the very picture of good, innocent girls that the jury was totally buying into. For a beautiful moment you believed it had worked and that would be all, except that Mr. Kim had an ace up his sleeve.

He just nodded thoughtfully and, without saying a word, simply raised his hand holding a small remote control. The projector sprang to life and displayed a slightly blurry image filmed from a porch security camera. The room filled with sound: loud, silly laughter, someone yelling "aim well!" and "do it again!" A group of clearly drunk college kids came into view, eggs in their hands. Someone threw one and completely missed the house; another projectile did hit the door and splattered a little on the camera. 

Minju gasped next to you. ‘’Oh my God. No way.’’

Then Minju's face appeared, her eyes wide and dilated, her mascara slightly smudged, and smiling as if she had just summoned a vortex of pure chaos. You frowned, believing your sight was deceiving you, but no, Minju was throwing or at least trying to throw eggs. She looked absolutely ridiculous, drunk as a sailor and staggering, unable to contain her drunk giggles, hands full of eggs, some failing into the floor. You covered your mouth, trying to control your laugh from spilling. 

‘’Oh no,’’ Minju blurted with worry. ‘’My hair looked like that?!’’

You closed your eyes with a sigh and pinched the bridge of your nose. The video continued playing, showing Minju teetering on the sidewalk and trying to aim the eggs, some landing on her shoes while others cheered on her failed attempts. No eggs actually hit the house. Now you understood why the two of them were there. The house that Minju and her friends had vandalized was one of the oldest in town, now a museum, and what not many people knew was that it had actually been a house belonging to the witch settlers. In fact, nobody knew, except for those of their kind. Minju egged a historic house to your community, a very important one. 

The screen went dark and a heavy silence fell over the room. The president spoke for the first time, clearing her voice. ‘’Girls, this is not exemplary behavior for witches.’’

‘’I know and I’m sorry,’’ Minju panicked, moving her hands desperately. ‘’I’ve grown since then! I swear!’’

‘’This happened three days ago,’’ her father said flatly. 

The president moved her attention to you and you shrank a little in your seat under her stare. ‘’And you have lied to this council and the jury, covering up for the accused.’’

You deflated like a balloon, looking at the floor. ‘’Yes,’’ you admitted with a sigh, there was no point in denying it. ‘’I did. I’m sorry.’’

Seorin sighed loudly. ‘’You’re two young witches still forging their path, but at your age you should already understand certain rules. This room isn't a place for lies, girls. Magic doesn't just respond to power, but to truth,’’ she scolded you two gently but firmly; her eyes were not unkind. ‘’I'm a little disappointed in both of you. I was expecting better.’’

Being scolded by an older, more experienced witch felt just as embarrassing as when you were a little girl. Thank goodness your familiar, Soomin, had taken a short vacation, otherwise you would have been doubly scolded, though you suspected she probably already knew. Some jurors nodded, others agreed, and some looked at you two more suspiciously, as if they thought Minju had more eggs in her pockets and was about to attack them. Perhaps with better aim.

‘’This is obviously not a criminal matter, but every action has its consequences,’’ the president continued. ‘’And this is no exception.’’

Minju held your sleeve while looking at you alarmed. ‘’They're going to burn us at the stake!’’ she whispered urgently.

You rolled your eyes and pushed her softly, scoffing. ‘’Of course not!’’

‘’For you,’’ the president said, looking directly into your eyes, ‘’one lunar cycle without lies. No falsehood or trickery, your tongue will always speak the truth. May sincerity teach you an important lesson, young witch.’’

Your stomach dropped, but you maintained your neutral expression, even as you could feel the faint presence of a spell reaching your body and settling there. Your tongue felt heavy for a second and you touched your lips with a frown, noticing that the sensation appeared as quickly as it vanished, as if something had been tied up and then melted on your tongue like candy. Well, fuck.

‘’And for you,’’ she turned to Minju, ‘’you will be in charge of three hens. You will feed them, care for them, clean their coop and collect their eggs. It goes without saying that not a single one should be broken in the entire month.’’

Minju blinked. ‘’Uh, excuse me, Madam President… three?’’

‘’Exactly.’’

‘’Oh. These hens,’’ Minju continued, ‘’are they… alive?’’ 

‘’They’re chickens, Minju,’’ her father sighed tiredly. ‘’That is usually how they work.’’ 

Seorin struck the gavel once. ‘’With this, we conclude the council meeting. Thank you all for your presence today.’’

Minju fell dramatically to your side, staring at the ceiling with a pout. ‘’Next time I’ll tell the truth.’’

You looked at her sideways. ‘’You don't say.’’

She pouted even more, regretting filling her cute features. ’‘I'm sorry I dragged you into this! But it was kind of worth it, if we think about the grand scheme of things. Like, I kissed Jungwon at the party and I got his number!’’

You looked at her in disbelief and wondered if they would increase the punishment if you hanged her right there. ‘’Minju, we're under a spell for a whole month! I can't lie, and you've become the babysitter for three chickens. Aren't you forgetting something?’’

She stared at you blankly, head empty, just waiting for you to say more after she shook his head no.

‘’You're afraid of chickens.’’

By morning you had already begun to encourage yourself. Honesty was easy, wasn't it? You could do this. It's not like you're constantly lying, you weren't a pathological liar. One month. One lunar cycle. Thirty days. It would be easy. You could do this. People liked honest people, after all. 

It's not like the most powerful witch of the coven casted a spell on your tongue forever. There was no chance that a careless word could send you back to the Council chambers with judgmental candles and Minju’s chickens clucking in the distance… right? Right. You could do this. Being honest was a good thing! Maybe this whole mess could turn into something positive. 

But one thought wouldn't leave your mind. How did this spell exactly work? Did silence count as an answer? Perhaps it was a good idea to fake pharyngitis and take a few days off. If you could keep your mouth shut and stay quiet, maybe take a lower profile… Huh. That could maybe do the trick. 

You were so caught up in mental damage control and possible ways to cheat (or maybe not cheating as such, you would call it... walking the spell's edge), that you barely noticed someone started walking beside you.

Too close, close enough that you could smell his cologne. You glanced sideways and there was Park Jongseong in all his glory and blinding smile, gracing you with his presence. Jay was one of those guys who had a high place among campus royalty, definitely a party prince. Everybody knew him. Everybody wanted him. Always smiling like he knew something most people didn't, confident with a track record to back it up: friendly, athletic, way too good with the girls, as you’ve heard the rumors. Trouble.

Your alarm bells were starting to quietly go off because Jay was smiling at you as if you two were lifelong friends (you weren’t), looking at you as if he didn't notice your expression, which was somewhere between disinterest and slight concern (like saying please think twice what you’re about to say).

Jay wasn't a conceited idiot per se, but hey, you weren't going to give all your trust to one of the campus's favorite heartthrob just like that. You knew his kind (frat, attractive boy) and well, his group of friends had a certain reputation on campus. You weren't particularly interested in getting involved in their games like Minju, who had her sights set on Jungwon and apparently it was working well, without any illegal love potion included. You hoped. 

“Hey,” he said easily. “You’re in Professor Park class, right?”

You looked at him and then at the empty halls.

“I am,” you replied flatly.

He chuckled, unbothered by your tone. “Cool, cool. Listen— quick favor. I’ve been kinda… busy lately,’’ Jay made a vague gesture that probably meant parties, games, existing attractively, fucking around, more parties. “Missed a few lectures. You take good notes, right?”

You felt a strange sensation in your chest, like a tickling inside. Your eye twitched a little, too early to deal with whatever that was. ‘’My notes are good, yes,’’ you said.

“Perfect,” Jay said enthusiastically, as if you had come up with the idea and not him. “Think you could send them to me? Or maybe help me catch up sometime? Maybe you could tutor me from time to time.”

You inhaled slowly, ready to say that you hadn't been taking notes lately, or that maybe he wouldn't understand your handwriting, that you didn’t have the time to tutor someone or even just a clear yes so he would leave you alone.

None of that came out of your mouth. 

‘’No,’’ you said instead. Your eyes widened, realizing you couldn't have lied. It wasn't what you meant to say, it was just automatically spat it out.

Jay blinked at you. ‘’Oh. Okay.’’

‘’You should be more responsible, Jay,’’ you said, the words spilling out before you could stop it or control it. ‘’This isn't such a difficult class. If you came regularly, you'd definitely do better and be able to keep up instead of relying on people who actually are responsible, instead of being so unprepared, you know.’’

An awkward, confusing silence fell between you, and you quickly covered your mouth, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. If that wasn't guaranteed social death... some passing girls turned their heads, intrigued by the exchange. 

Jay continued to stare at you for a few seconds and then let out a small laugh, more surprised than angry. ‘’Wow,’’ he said. ‘’Okay. Fair. Harsh, but fair,’’ he chuckled. ‘’I get it.’’

You shrugged mortified and helpless and bit your tongue hard, trying to hold back the words, but the spell was stronger. ‘’Also, I’m not interested in tutoring someone who prioritizes parties over academic responsibility. You'll just waste my time.’’

Jesus Christ.

Jay raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘’Damn. Alright. Message received.’’

He stopped in the hallway, still smiling, but there was something more thoughtful in his expression, his gaze lingering on you, as if he had miscalculated what he expected from you. Jay was placing you in some drawer of his mind with a new label.

‘’I didn’t know you thought like that,’’ he added. ‘’You don’t take shit from anyone, do you? I respect that.’’

Before you could make things worse by replying, thankfully Jay just gave you one of his boyish smiles and walked away. As you watched him go, your heart calmed and you sank into the nearest wall. Well, that turned out just fine. So much for walking on the edge of the spell, huh?

Not very far, someone was watching you and Jay intently, observing the entire conversation without moving with a growing interest. 

Fortunately, you didn't scare away anyone else for the rest of the morning with your big mouth. Perhaps honesty wasn't as simple as you thought if it wasn't filtered, you could only hope that no one else asked you something as direct as Jay did. The spell definitely was out of control. So that was a damn problem. Not only could you not stay quiet, but your tongue was moving uncontrollably with thoughts that hadn't even formed yet. It was as if the truth was being ripped from your soul before your brain was even aware of it.

Minju was halfway through describing chicken’s politics when she realized you weren’t really paying attention to her. Your brows were furrowed, your mind racing, analyzing the damned spell. It was both strong and subtle, binding your tongue to the truth in a way that made it impossible to shut your damn mouth once you started speaking. There had to be some way to stop it. Of course, you weren't crazy enough to cast a counter-spell and actually end up in the Witches’ Council basement. But the chances of getting through the month without any trouble weren't looking so high anymore.

“I swear,” Minju said, poking at her salad, “at first they screamed every time they saw me, but now they only scream a little. And one of them lets me hold her for, like, five seconds. Her name is Buttercup. I don’t know why I was scared of them, they’re kinda cute. It’s not so bad.’’

‘’That’s good,’’ you murmured, barely nodding, eyes unfocused. ‘’Chickens are nice.’’

‘’It really is,’’ Minju agreed proudly. ‘’Also, I don’t scream as much anymore either. I think we’re warming up to each other, you know?’’

You hummed softly, taking a sip of your soda. ‘’It's great that you're building a relationship with your chickens. Bonding is important.’’

Of course Minju noticed your thoughtful and cloudy mood and stroked your shoulder with a frown. She also noticed the faint whisper of magic. ‘’How was your day? Is it the spell? Is your soda not fizzy enou— oh my God. Oh. My. God— okay, don’t look.’’

‘’What?’’ You asked, blinking out of your haze and looking all around. ‘’What’s going on?’’

‘’I said don’t look! Listen carefully,’’ she whispered urgently, going back to her salad and keeping her eyes down. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. ‘’Niki is looking at you.’’

You frowned at her, not quite understanding the urgency of the situation, but you assumed Minju would have some reason. You snorted, keeping your eyes down anyway and trying not to laugh. ‘’Okay, I won’t. So?’’

Minju looked at you in the most offended way possible, pointing her fork at you, eyes full of incredulity. ‘’You must be kidding. Seriously? Niki? Basketball player, very cute, very tall, friend of Jungwon.’’

A face flashed into your mind and you nodded, remembering him too well. The boy with the perpetual look of disinterest. ‘’I wouldn't call him cute but okay. What about it?’’

Your best friend is practically vibrating with happiness. ‘’What do you mean, what about it? He’s looking at you! This is so good! This mean we could have a double date!’’

‘’Okay,’’ you murmured under your breath, ‘’I don’t wanna know how that occurred to you. Besides, I don't think he's looking at me for that reason. He’s probably planning my social death right now. Don’t mind him, Min.’’

Minju fell from his cloud of excitement. ‘’What? Why? Why would he?’’

‘’I refused to help Jay this morning; the stupid spell made me say a bunch of crap. Basically that he was a party animal with little interest in academics and something about not wasting my time in him.’’

Minju made a face, measuring the damage in her head. The bond between the boys was no joke. Jungwon, Heeseung, Jay, Jake, and Niki were like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse if they were five of them and in a frat— incredibly attractive, magnetic, with the kind of presence that simply drew attention. Whether it was their looks, their grades, the trophies they won with the basketball team, the gossip or their fraternity parties, someone was always talking about them. Loyal as hell, crossing one of them meant crossing the whole group of friends. And it wasn't a good idea to do that with the guys who basically controlled the narrative on campus.

Minju tried to smile again. ‘’Oh. Uhm, it doesn't sound very polite but he doesn't look murderous to me. He looks… in love,’’ she sighed cutely. 

You looked at her, not entirely convinced and then subtly moved your head, until your eyes did find Riki Nishimura not far away, staring at you as if he could burn you with his mind. Or trying to.

He looked murderous. 

Or maybe that was his everyday face. To you, he looked as always, as if he were bored and at the same time thinking about how he could start some chaos and blame others for it. Niki was leaning back in his chair across the courtyard, one arm lazily slung over the backrest, long fingers slowly swirling his ice americano coffee cup in circles. His posture screamed indifference, but his eyes betrayed him completely. They were fixed on you— not in passing, not accidentally. Intentionally. Burning. There was nothing shy about it, but you guessed that someone like Niki didn't know what shyness was in the first place.

It was a little creepy how his eyes had an almost predatory gleam in broad daylight. They weren't flirtatious as such, more like... analytical. Observant. Curious. As if he'd seen something and wanted to figure out exactly how it worked before getting close. He had a sharp, intense gaze, a feline spark that felt more like a panther than a cat. You couldn't deny it, he was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, no truth spell needed to admit that. His cheekbones alone deserved a separate analysis for sure.

Niki didn’t look away when you caught him. Instead, he held your gaze for too long as if he was challenging you to not look away. His chin tilted and a hint of mockery appeared in his dark eyes, or perhaps it was an effect of the sun, as if he was saying Yes. I am looking. Problem?

You lose on the spot because your stomach did a strange flip under his piercing stare and you looked away, refusing to let him make you blush like a schoolgirl. You turned to Minju again. ‘’Right. I mean, it could be, who knows? That guy only has one expression for everything,’’ you shrugged. 

She gasped. ‘’Of course not! He’s actually nice.’’

You arched a brow. ‘’Have you ever saw him smile?’’

‘’Maybe he’s one of those people who has a neutral face. You’re not the smiling type either,’’ she reminded you, mimicking your expression. 

‘’You’re trying to say resting bitch face,’’ you offered, taking another sip of your soda. ‘’Or maybe he's just constantly constipated.’’

It was impossible for Minju not to laugh a little at that, and the two of them shared a few giggles that quickly died away when a shadow appeared over the two of you. 

‘’What’s so funny?’’ 

A deep, definitely masculine voice sounded behind you. Minju jolted, eyes wide, while you turned far too slowly in your seat— straight into Niki standing there like he belonged in your space. Relaxed. Unbothered. Looking down at you from his full height, and fuck he was actually tall. Jungwon was at his side, smiling like it was a completely normal social interaction and not a potential social nightmare to you. You bit your tongue in advance. 

Before anyone could speak, Jungwon's gaze flicked to Minju and he gently reached out, removing something of her shiny hair with a hint of hesitation, as if reality were playing a trick on him. It was a white feather. 

Minju froze as Jungwon studied her and then the feather held in his fingers, his lips trembling as if he wanted to laugh but he was a little confused anyway. 

‘’What’s this?’’ He asked her, amused.

You and Minju looked at each other speechlessly as the silence stretched long enough into awkwardness, not knowing what to say or how to explain. But of course, the spell didn't hesitate.

‘’It is from one of the chickens Minju is currently responsible for caring as a disciplinary punishment from the Witches' Council,’’ you quickly said.

Minju let out a strangled noise, horrified at your outburst. A second later you realized what you said and covered your mouth, frowning and looking panicked at Minju, shaking your head in a way best friends communicate meaning help me the fuck out.

Jungwon blinked between you both. ‘’Oh.’’

Niki’s eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘’Is that so?’’

‘’Yes,’’ you continued helplessly, ‘’Minju was actually telling me how her relationship with them is progressing and she's not so afraid of them anymore.’’

Minju buried her face in her hands and took a calming deep breath instead of screaming before looking at Jungwon, trying to smile and pretend that everything was normal. 

‘’She’s right! I got some new pets,’’ she laughed with forced enthusiasm. ‘’Three chickens!’’

“That explains the feather,” Jungwon said, nodding solemnly as if this makes perfect sense. He placed it on the table. “Chickens are cute. Good luck with… that.”

‘’Thank you,’’ she mumbled, smiling too wide. 

You wished with all your heart that no one else would speak to you, that perhaps the boys would just keep walking and think you were a couple of weird girls. But fate couldn't be that kind to you. Instead, Niki's attention never left you, searching for your eyes even while you were picking up your things, ready to bolt. You weren’t about to spill all your secrets and actually earn a worse punishment. 

‘’Where are you going? Class?’’

You froze, feeling the spell regain its power and refusing to let you lie. ‘’I do not have class right now,’’ you explained, defeated.

Niki let out a quiet laugh, eyes gleaming. “Ah. Then why are you leaving?”

‘’I really don't want to continue this conversation in case I say something terrible or incriminating,’’ you admitted and made a face, grabbing your purse ready to bolt from there. God, just shut up! 

Niki smiled slowly. Dangerous. Too handsome. The way something malignant finds out a new soul to torment. “Relax,” he taunted you. “We’re just talking. Do I make you so nervous that you want to run away?’’

You stood up abruptly, almost colliding with him. ‘’Yes. That is precisely the issue.’’

Niki stepped aside without argument, gesturing with exaggerated courtesy. “After you, princess.”

With what little dignity you had left and afraid of revealing some witch secret that would end with you being burned at the town bonfire (or having to move to another town), you left almost running. Niki's eyes watched as you disappeared among students coming and going, a slight smile raising the corners of his mouth. 

Minju, bless her soul, tried to fill the heavy silence in your favor. ‘’Uh… she’s been pretty tired these days, you know, exams and stuff. She's usually more... quiet. But she’s super nice!’’

Jungwon nodded buying the explanation but Niki simply saw the bottle of soda you left; it was his favorite flavor. ‘’Is she?’’

The last thing you expected when you entered your home was a very, very angry owl staring at you from the stairs. You groaned under your breath as you approached, knowing you were about to get the scolding of a lifetime. You forced a smile onto your face and circled the scowling bird, slowly beginning to climb the stairs under her stare. 

‘’Oh, Soomin, hi! You’re back already? How was your vacation? God, how the time flies. Anyway, I have so much work to do so—’’

‘’Don’t,’’ she warned, staring at you with huge, unblinking eyes. You gulped. ‘’Don’t even think to leave this conversation.’’

‘’But Soomin—’’

The owl hissed at you, feathers puffing. ‘’How is it possible that I'm only gone for a week and you've been punished with a spell?! And I'm only finding out about this today?’’

You froze mid-step and slowly turned to face her. Her small, feathered face was somehow the same one your mother used when you broke something expensive as a child. Pure maternal disappointment that could be read as: how have I ever had to put up with you.

‘’A week,’’ she repeated, flipping her wings in stress, ‘’just a week! I left you here trusting you’re a functional adult now and you got yourself in a trial and a punishment?!’’

‘’It wasn’t kinda an official trial—’’ 

‘’Of course it was official! There was a jury! The president and— I think I’m about to faint,’’ the owl wheezed, wobbling a little enough to worry you.

You quickly approached the bird trying to hold it, but as soon as you got close, Soomin began hitting you with its wing while hissing with renewed strength.

You yelped, cornered to the wall. ‘’Ow! Stop!’’

‘’You lied to the Council! You didn’t call me!’’ She growled, flapping at you with tiny, furious little hits. ‘’You lied in front of the entire Witches’ Council! Do you have any idea of how serious this is?’’

‘’Soomin, please, you’re being so dramatic,’’ you said, running a few steps up. ‘’It wasn't that deep! It's just for one lunar cycle.’’ 

The owl tilted its head and, of course, followed you, still giving you short, scandalized taps with its wings that weren't painful but ridiculously humiliating. You wondered how many people in the world could be scolded by a bird.

‘’Just a lunar cycle? This is a disaster,’’ Soomin continued, pacing back and forth on the stairs like a furious professor or a stressed lawyer. Probably both. ‘’A complete catastrophe. One week. I leave for one week and you ruin your life. You’re gonna tell me exactly what happened and oh, look at that, you can’t lie to me,’’ she mocked you. ‘’Because you’re cursed!’’

You scoffed and lifted your hands up in a calming gesture, staring down at her tiny form. ‘’Listen. It was just... a very confusing chain of events that somehow ended with me under a spell. I clearly didn’t expect that. How could I have known that was going to happen?’’

‘’Why did you lie in the first place while being interrogated?’’

You hesitated for a second, enough to make Soomin narrow her eyes. ‘’Oh, no. No, no, no, no. That face means it was a stupid reason.’’

You sighed, leaning against the wall, the spell working too well. ‘’I was trying to cover up for Minju. She got drunk and egged the histori—’’ you noticed how Soomin’s feathers started puffing again and you made a face, taking a step up. ‘’Historical house— she went to a party and I told the jury she was with me the entire night.’’

Soomin narrowed her eyes. If owls could facepalm… ‘’So it was a stupid reason.’’ 

You rubbed your temples. ‘’Hey, I’m actually struggling here. Today was my first day and already made some fucks ups,’’ you groaned, covering your face. ‘’I don’t think I’m surviving three full weeks. This is hard!’’

‘’You’ll find the way to do it because it’s what you deserve,’’ Soomin scolded you. ‘’That’s what you get for lying.’’

‘’It was just a small lie! All of this is so dramatic! You have any idea what this means to my social life?’’

‘’You don’t have one,’’ the owl responded, blinking at you. 

‘’That’s not the point,’’ you replied, crossing your arms defensively with a frown. ‘’Now I definitely won’t.’’

Soomin perched on the railing and gave you another motherly look of pure disappointment. ‘’From now on, you won’t be unsupervised anymore,’’ she said firmly. ‘’I’m not leaving you for extended periods of time ever again.’’

You pouted and leaned your head on the wall. ‘’A month,’’ you muttered in pure misery and sadness. ‘’Twenty nine days to go.’’

Soomin shook her head. ‘’Unbelievable,’’ she scoffed. ‘’I raise you for years and this is what happens the moment I take a break.’’

You blinked. ‘’You’re appeared like three years ago, you didn’t raise me.’’

‘’Emotionally, I did.’’

You and Minju looked incredible. There was no other way to describe it, to be honest and full objective. Shorts that showed off your legs, zip-up jackets that clung to all the right places and accentuated your waist, your hair in a high ponytail that could have been in a sports-themed fashion editorial. 

You had both made a deal, before the whole punishment mess happened, that both would enter their athletic era; meaning no more sedentary life and naps. It was time to get healthier, enjoy the nice weather and all that shit that was supposed to be good to your body.

You were dying. 

Literally. Lungs gone. 

You didn't know when you thought it was a good idea to suggest to Minju that you both take an open hockey class as a form of exercise, but it was definitely you trusting too much that your back would hold up. And your knees. And practically your entire body. It wasn’t the case. Who knew running while holding a stick could be so difficult? 

By the end of the class you had moved parts of your body that you weren't sure you could coordinate at the same time in the first place, bent over your knees and gasping for air. Sweat trickled down your back as if you'd run a marathon from continent to continent, not just an hour-long class. Minju wasn't in the best shape either, dragging her hockey stick towards the benches while groaning, like she was leaving a battlefield. 

‘’I think I saw angels,’’ Minju panted beside you, ‘’when they made us sprint the second time.’’

‘’I saw God,’’ you wheezed. ‘’She suggest me to sit down.’’ 

On the other side of the field, the men's team was finishing their practice too. From afar you could hear their shouts, grunts, and jeers. These classes were supposed to be the Student Council's idea to provide free, open sports spaces for everyone, but the men definitely treated it like the National Championship. Fast, competitive, sticks and shoulders clashing. You recognized some of the guys and wondered who in their right mind would do two different sports in the same week and survive. Apparently, Niki was one of them.

The way he moved was ruthless, efficient, controlled. You couldn't help but watch him from afar while you drank water because, well, why not? A girl could enjoy the view. His hair was slightly damp, pushed back from his forehead. His t-shirt clung a little to his torso, and it was impossible not to notice the trace of his abs and the muscle in his arms. His body moved with force and speed. And although he seemed incredibly focused, his eyes still occasionally wandered. Towards you. Searching.

Again. Again. One more time, until Jungwon noticed and it made him snort with a knowing smile. 

After practice, while your lungs were slowly coming back to life and Minju was showing you videos of her chickens, on the other side of the field a group of boys were making a straight line towards you. It was too late to run when you looked up and Jungwon was approaching with an easy smile, Jay by his side and Niki just a step behind, hands in their pockets and a serious expression.

‘’Hey,’’ Jungwon greeted warmly, eyes drifting to Minju. ‘’How’d it go?’’

‘’We survived,’’ she smiled at him, proud. ‘’Barely. But it was fun. I can’t still feel my legs.’’

Jay arched a brow, chucking. ‘’That intense?’’

‘’You have no idea,’’ you whispered to no one, positioning yourself behind Minju as naturally as possible while you put away your water bottle and grabbed your bag. So, a new game plan was set. If no one specifically spoke to you, you couldn't say anything catastrophic, right? 

All you needed to do was make yourself a little invisible.

For a moment you thought you were actually succeeding. Jungwon was clearly only interested in Minju, with whom he was animatedly discussing hockey (or so you thought, because you had no idea about the terminology they were using). That was the moment: back away slowly, as if you'd decided in the moment and hadn't overanalyzed it for several minutes. Slowly, imperceptibly, so no one would smell your fear. Just a few steps toward freedom, just a bye under your shoulder and no one would get hurt. 

Jay noticed right away, calling your name.

‘’Hey,’’ he said casually, glancing at you and your outfit, taking in your legs. ‘’You look good today.’’ 

You froze. Oh no. No. Please, no. The spell didn’t wasted a fucking second. 

‘’I know,’’ you said confidently. ‘’These shorts gave me an incredible ass.’’ 

Silence. Minju choked, eyes huge. Jungwon’s brows shoot up. Jay bursted out laughing, full delight, not at all bothered. 

‘’You’re so sincere,’’ he said with a grin. ‘’Confidence. I like that.’’

Niki didn't laugh or say anything. He was simply watching you, studying the way you spoke without hesitation and the subsequent panic that followed, as if you had no filter.

Jay playfully nudged Niki with his elbow and kept the conversation going. ‘’You guys watched us play?’’

You prayed that no one else would say anything to you directly, taking another step back. 

Of course, Niki’s voice interrupted your attempts. He looked straight at you. Calm, low, direct. ‘’Did you?’’

You swallowed, as if that could stop the truth from rising like bile up your throat. ‘’Uh, y-yes.’’

‘’And?’’

“You looked very attractive,” you admitted helplessly, eyes flicking to him for half a second before staring at the grass, accepting your destiny. “With your hair all sweaty and pushed back.”

Minju made a tiny distress sound, Jungwon tried to look neutral watching the exchange and failed, and Jay grinned knowing he found free entertainment and material to taunt his maknae. But Niki didn't mock you, or smiled, nor did he seem embarrassed or smug. He tilted his head and continued looking at you with heavy, but not cold, eyes. Just… attentive. Listening. Like he never heard that sort of answer before. 

‘’Did I?’’ He asked, mildly. 

‘’Yes,’’ you said immediately, planning your own death. ‘’It was distracting.’’ 

Jay looked at Niki, considering your words. He was enjoying it too much. ‘’Distracting, huh?’’

Niki ignored him and moved a little closer to you, just enough to make the air shift. ‘’Then maybe,’’ he said quietly, eyes steady on you, ‘’you should stop watching.’’

‘’I would, but you’re hard to ignore,’’ you murmured automatically, slamming your eyes shut. ‘’Okay. I’m leaving now.’’

‘’We need water!’’ Minju intervened, taking your arm and leading you away with an apologetic smile. ‘’Bye, guys!’’

Jungwon was smiling and waving, Jay was saying something about Niki's sweaty hair being gross and Niki... his eyes followed you the whole way. Smiling a little.

Already deciding. 

Avoidance is power, you told yourself. 

Clearly you couldn't control the spell. Okay. Nor could you control who spoke to you. Obviously. But you could control the exposure. Limited interactions, minimal risks, avoid potential red flags that could lead to humiliation. You were going to finally walk the line of the spell or die trying.

It didn't matter that Minju was officially dating Jungwon and that somehow included his friends who orbited him and, due to their proximity, your best friend, like damn satellites. You wouldn't be rude. Just... brief and efficient. Simply as that. In the middle of a night where you were staring at the ceiling wondering how you ended up in this problem while you were in a chocolate ice cream coma, that's when it occurred to you.

You couldn't lie, but you could control how you told the truth. You wouldn't be lying per se... you'd simply be revealing the answers in long, technical sentences. Careful words, a controlled tone, crafted and directed honesty. That wasn't lying. You were simply adapting to the rules of the game. Expanding your vocabulary. Making things complicated wasn't lying. The spell didn't imply that people had to understand you.

In the dating world, some friends canceled plans because of their boyfriends. Minju did it for her chickens. She bailed on hockey practice before it even started when her security app sent a notification.

“One of the girls laid an egg and she looks emotionally overwhelmed,” she had said seriously, already packing her bag. “I need to supervise.”

‘’She’s just a chicken,’’ you stared at her. 

‘’She’s sensitive.’’ 

That's how you ended up alone, suffering, exhausted but not as dramatically as last time. Or maybe you just didn't have anyone to complain to. Either way, once practice was over, you actually enjoyed it a little. Other girls were stretching and chatting, laughing and drinking water, while you sat on the benches. You breathed a sigh of relief when you took down your ponytail and let your hair fall, enjoying the fresh air.

Perhaps doing outdoor sports wasn't so bad, you supposed. The sunset and the breeze caressed your damp skin, and for a second you relaxed, enjoying the silence. You tilted your head slightly toward the sky, toward the last rays of the sun, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You even smiled a little, not ruining your social interactions for a whole day felt like a huge victory.

You weren’t aware of it, but at the other side of the field the boy’s team were finishing warm-up drills. Niki’s focus shifted, as he had done all week, to you. Finally alone. Illuminated by a halo of sunlight, looking so pretty and relaxed, not like the times he had approached you and you looked ready to flee.

By the time you sensed someone’s presence it was too late, opening your eyes to Niki standing close enough that you had to tilt your chin up slightly to meet his gaze. You got startled with a small yelp and your heart rate went crazy while Niki was completely and clearly unashamed of staring at you like that in the open. 

He broke the silence first. ‘’Minju abandoned you?’’

You were ready for this. You cleared your throat and sat straighter. ‘’She had a chicken-related emergency.’’

Niki blinked once, nodding like that made all the sense in the world. ‘’I thought you were avoiding us,’’ he said plainly. ‘’Avoiding me.’’

You inhaled, choosing the words carefully in your head. ‘’I’m being selective with my interactions at this particular moment.’’ 

His mouth twitched slightly. ‘’Selective? And I didn't make the cut?’’

Panic spread across your brain, that was dangerous territory! 

‘’I'm trying to minimize situations where I have to interact verbally because… because I'm avoiding saying things that can amplify the exposure of my personal, reserved thoughts and put me in complicated circumstances.’’ 

Niki’s eyes sharpened. ‘’So I complicate your life?’’

This fucker. You froze for a second, feeling the spell around your tongue, ready to pounce head first into the truth. ‘’I believe you increase the odds a little,’’ you admitted, maintaining your calm tone. 

He took a step closer, his knees almost touching you. ‘’And why is that?’’

Because I can't decipher the way you look at me.

Because you don't react like everyone else.

You didn’t say any of it. ‘’You ask direct questions,’’ you said instead, finding the right words. ‘’And I struggle with filtering in those interactions.’’

His eyes fell on the curve of your shoulders, the way your hair waved in the breeze, your cheeks a little pink from exercise. ‘’You look better like this,’’ Niki said casually. 

You frowned. ‘’Like what?’’

‘’Less guarded.’’

Your brain short-circuited, and thankfully, not even a powerful witch's spell could fix that. But before you could die crushed by Niki's dark eyes, he was the first to look away towards the other side of the field, where his team resumed training.

‘’We’re not done,’’ he started, and you suspected he wasn’t just talking about hockey. ‘’Stay.’’ 

You blinked. ‘’Stay? Why?’’

He gestured subtly with his head towards the bleachers and you followed his line of sight. Oh. A few girls were there, watching the boy’s practice. Some talking, others taking photos. Waiting for boyfriends. Watching situationships or prospects. 

You looked at Niki again, not fully understanding the situation. Actually, more in denial. The implication was too obvious to ignore, but it still confused you a little. Why the hell Riki Nishimura wanted you there of all people?

‘’You can sit there,’’ he said, like it was the most normal outcome. ‘’Watch.’’

You kept staring at him, blinking slowly. ‘’You’re recruiting spectators, Nishimura?’’

His mouth twitched again, trying not to crack a smile. ‘’I’m inviting you.’’ 

Your stomach lurched catastrophically. ‘’You want me… to sit there and openly watch you?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’No.’’

He didn't react badly to your refusal, he simply studied you. ‘’Why not?’’

You swallowed and searched your brain for an answer that made sense. ‘’Because that could create some assumptions.’’ 

He tilted his head, a spark of mischief in his eyes. ‘’What kind of assumptions?’’

You narrowed your eyes a little, knowing that now he was playing with you. He knew what kind of assumptions, the cocky bastard.  

‘’I would prefer not to fuel potential situations that could lead to rumors that are not substantiated… based on our interactions. Misinterpretations could arise.’’

He searched your eyes while lowering his voice a little. ‘’What if I want them substantiated?”

Fuck this frat boy. You let out a loud sigh and thought about your next move. There was no chance you would let Niki throw you into the stands full of girlfriends, when the possibility of the spell going out of control due to the pressure and the crowd was so high. You were barely taking baby steps into the edge of the spell, not doing fucking somersaults on it.

So you took the next best route: evade. ‘’You’re very confident,’’ you managed to say, trying to smile. 

‘’Yes.’’

‘’That's very... threatening to my… filtering,’’ you groaned, feeling the spell tightening. 

He kept his eyes on you, pleased by it. ‘’Then stay,’’ he muttered, almost soft. ‘’Face the danger.’’ 

‘’That’d end with me saying something incriminating,” you warned him with a sigh. 

“I’m counting on it.”

Alright.

You stood abruptly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “This is exactly the kind of scenario I am strategically eliminating.”

He didn’t move out of your space immediately. “You’re running again.”

“I am exercising discernment.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Same thing.”

You looked at him once more, trying to appear composed and with a serene face, even though your heart was beating strangely inside your chest. ‘’I'm not equipped to deal with you right now. Bye.’’

That made him stop for a second. And then: ‘’Good.’’

‘’What? Why’s that’s good?’’ 

‘’Because when you are, I'll be here. I want to see it.’’

Niki walked back onto the playing field, leaving you behind as if he hadn't desestabilized your nervous system.

From that day on, things got progressively worse, little by little, as if the loose ends were starting to tie themselves up. And by loose ends, you meant Niki's friends. The strangest part was the stares you got from other girls. Some were curious and interested, others hateful. The campus had eyes everywhere, that was obvious to anyone. The five horsemen and their lost bachelorhood were the talk of the town. First Jungwon, then Jake, who would be next?

The initial plan to avoid social interactions wasn't working too well. Maybe it was because you were just one soldier, and well, Niki's army was bigger, not to mention the whole campus. Little things started happening. Like Jay sitting next to you in class, much to your alarm, and you even considered pretending not to know him. But if there was one thing impossible in the world, it was getting Jay to shut up. He talked about everything. Your head was completely empty by the time he launched into his anecdote about the basketball team's mascot falling into the pool last week. 

The party invitations came in a more personal way. It wasn't like fraternity parties required it, but maybe it was something about the social hierarchy you weren’t aware of…? You had no idea and weren’t about to ask Minju about it. You assumed people just showed up, like you had done a few times before. But then Lee Heeseung basically blocked the library entry and asked you (more or less threatening you) if you would like to come to one of their parties. It took you too much by surprise to put together a coherent sentence, so you basically scuttled out the side with a yelp and a hurried ‘’no!’’. 

That’s how you ended like this. Looking insane. 

A scarf wrapped around your head as if you were a Hollywood actress from the 40s hiding from the paparazzi (you weren't), oversized black glasses that definitely weren't your style and didn't serve much purpose on a cloudy day, shoulders hunched as you slid along the edges of buildings like a cartoon thief, trying to blend into the shadows. Head down, quick steps, incognito mode activated.

The problem was that the Silverveil’s campus was a curse in itself, starting with its architecture: lots of open spaces, glass walls, and lots of people who liked to talk. And of course, him.

Nishimura Riki.

You had acquired a new knack for finding Niki in a crowd, though it wasn't too difficult. Tall, existing effortlessly, hands in his pockets with a semi-bored expression. You saw him at the other end of the courtyard, laughing at something Jake said, his laugh short and sharp, and just that sound made your stomach clench. 

Abort. Abort. Abort.

You spun around instantly, nearly colliding with a group of students, muttering a quick apology before making a beeline run towards the nearest column. You leaned your back against it and took a breath, waiting a few seconds before poking your head out and inspecting the area.

No five horsemen of the apocalypse. No teachers. No curious girls asking if you can introduce them to Jay or Heeseung— or asking if it's true they're in a polyamorous relationship. No hockey coach asking why you didn't go to the last class and you not answering that you'd rather sleep for ten hours than drag your ass through that torture again. 

Good.

You adjusted your scarf, lowered your glasses further, and leaned again— only to freeze. Niki was definitely close. Too close. So close you could see the lazy way he walked, unhurried, making his way along without even asking, as if he weren't chasing after anything. As if he knew exactly where he was going.

You pulled back fast, heart slamming against your ribs. Shit. 

‘’Who are you spying on?’’

His voice came from behind you, low and amused, close enough that you felt it more than hear it. Slowly, too slowly, you turned around and there he was, devastating so. Niki’s eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in the handkerchief, the glasses, and your expression somewhere between guilt and panic, as if you were assessing your chances of running away.

For a second he just looked at you, until one corner of his mouth lifted. 

‘’No one in particular. I’m just… examining the perimeter and human elements near me.’’

Niki arched a brow, somewhat amused and slightly judgmental. ‘’Is this a disguise or a styling choice?’’

Panic surged through your mind, flooding your entire brain, barely remembering the plan and survival mode before the spell revived. ‘’I’m avoiding being recognized to prevent unnecessary social interactions that could result in irreversible harm to me.’’

Niki let out a short laugh, surprised and real, eyes bright with something dangerously close to interest. “Wow,” he said. “That’s… specific.’’

You squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, heart trembling. “I would appreciate it if you did not interpret my current behavior as an invitation for conversation.”

“And yet,” he replied lightly, stepping closer instead of away, “you’re still talking to me. You are hard to go unnoticed, too.”

You swallowed. “This is an unfortunate consequence of your proximity.”

He studied you like you were a puzzle he didn’t know how he wanted to solve, which piece picked up first, gaze lingering just a beat too long. “You know,” he started, voice dropping a little, “I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

Your heart stuttered. “Did you? That information is… distressing.”

Niki smiled fully now, slow and unreadable. “Good,” he responded. 

And suddenly, hiding felt impossible and dumb. You were pressed against the column when Niki moved closer, cornering you enough so that you couldn't leave without brushing against his body. Niki lifted a hand, slow enough that you saw it coming but not slow enough to stop it. His fingers brushed your cheek for half a second before hooking under the arm of your sunglasses.

‘’Hey!—’’

He slid them off your face with infuriating ease. The world suddenly felt too bright. Too exposed. His gaze settled on your eyes immediately, intent and unreadable, like he was cataloguing something important. Up close, you noticed details you really shouldn’t be noticing: the curve of his lashes, the way his expression softened when you weren’t hiding behind dark lenses, a faded scar on one of his eyebrows. The smell of his cologne. 

“Hm,” he hummed, studying you. “So that’s what you were hiding.”

You stopped yourself, jaw tightening. “…That statement is inaccurate since you don’t know my intentions and motives.”

Without breaking eye contact, Niki casually slipped the sunglasses onto his own face. They looked ridiculous on him. He also looked unfairly good as well. 

‘’There’s a party tonight,’’ he said, like it was the most normal conversation he ever had. ‘’Our frat. You coming?’’

There’s no way in hell I’m going, you thought. Instead, you said: ‘’Attending an event of that magnitude is not in my immediate plans.’’

He stepped back, finally giving you air. “That’s a shame,’’ he smirked, then tilted his head, lowering his voice just enough to feel intimate. “If you want these back,” he added, tapping the edge of the sunglasses, “you should come.”

You opened your mouth to renegotiate the deal or tell him it was ridiculous, but Niki turned around and left without looking back, just like that. Hands in his pockets, wearing YOUR big glasses, carefree, as if he hadn't left you there with the words on your lips and your heart racing, or with people nearby pretending not to have seen everything.

By the end of the day, it was everywhere.

People saw Niki. 

People definitely saw the sunglasses. 

People definitely saw Nishimura Riki wearing your sunglasses like they were his in the first place and didn't steal it from you in plain sight. The bastard had the audacity to actually wear them throughout the day, even with his friends, completely unbothered by the small chaos he caused. 

You even heard some whispers throughout the day that made you stare at nothing while some people gossiped about your life in real time. You sat in class, notebook opened, half-hearing your professor, doing doodles and making an effort to write something even if you barely care. That’s when you heard the whispers. 

‘’...Is that her?

‘’Mmmh. I think so.’’

‘’Ya, she’s pretty. No wonder Niki’s dating her.’’

You stopped doodling and paid more attention, your eyes were on your professor as you grip tightening around your pen. Waiting for more gossip to spill. 

‘’They look like an idols couple or something.’’

‘’My friend saw them flirting in front of everybody. Is that serious.’’

‘’Really?’’

‘’I know, right? He’s wearing her glasses. She’s friends with Jay too, I think.’’ 

By the end of the day, it was everywhere, and Minju was proof of that, because at some point during the day your best friend dragged you to the nearest cafe and interrogated you in a very similar way to the Witches' Council. With two lattes and two muffins and Minju unsuccessfully trying to contain her excitement, you sighed in defeat.

‘’Okay,’’ she started, resting her hands on the table, trying to calm down as if that would make her hear better. ‘’I’m ready. Tell me everything! What’s is going on with you and Niki?’’

You shrugged. ‘’There’s nothing going on,’’ you murmured, taking a sip of the latte. ‘’I think? I can categorize it for sure. Try be more specific.’’

Minju narrowed her eyes. ‘’Someone from my Economics class saw you and Niki earlier,’’ she paused. ‘’She said he took your glasses, like, he took them.’’

‘’That’s true. I was robbed in broad daylight and slightly criticized by my fashion choices, I think,’’ you frowned. 

Minju blinked and deflated a little. ‘’That’s not… how she described it.’’

You stared at your best friend, unimpressed. ‘’I’m literally incapable of lying, remember?’’ 

‘’So? What you’re gonna do?’’

‘’Honestly, I don’t know,’’ you sighed, massaging your temples. ‘’He told me I can get them back if I go to their party. He can keep them, I guess.’’

Minju gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. ‘’Oh my God. You’re being courted!’’

‘’More like terrorized. He stole from me!’’

‘’He’s flirting, you dumbass!’’

‘’He committed a crime,’’ you stated. 

‘’You’re brushing!’’

You groaned and covered your face with a whine. ‘’Leave me alone.’’

‘’Listen,’’ Minju said, in a softer tone. ‘’I’ve never seen Niki doing something like that, he’s very reserved. He’s always looking at you like… like he wants to eat you alive. And to be honest, you don’t look at him very differently.’’

You pressed your lips together and watched your coffee as it had the answers of the world. Somewhere on campus Niki was probably smiling to himself, that you were sure of, perfectly aware that he did exactly what he wanted. 

Stressed you out, checked.

Provoked you, checked.

Left you with an invitation you could’t stop thinking about, checked.

The worst part? You didn’t care about getting your sunglasses back.

The sky has been gray and cloudy lately, but you hardly care. It was another hockey practice and only half your body was there, your functional neurons checking out a long time ago. Physically you existed there, but your mind? That was a thing with a life of its own. Your body moved when it should, your stick hit the ball when it was your turn, even your legs seemed more coordinated than before. The reality was that your mind was deep in a daydream about the thing you wanted most: your warm bed.

You were planning it in detail, too distracted and entertained. 

Hot shower, giant pajamas, a greasy double hamburger— eating cross-legged under your blankets while something mindless played on your laptop. The beginning of your weekend. No campus. No accidental honesty. No dodging dangerously perceptive boys. Just a pause in time to exist without stress.

You jogged half-heartedly across the grass, barely registering the shouts of your teammates playing. The cloudy weather made everything feel slower, heavier. Your eyelids even drooped for a second. And then— a memory flashing too fast, your brain betraying you.

Niki. Uninvited. 

How close he stood the other day, the way he said face the danger. His low, deep voice, the way he looked at you like— no. You shook your head slightly, refusing to let yourself do that. But the images, his face, it kept flickering in your head. His smile, his smirk, his intense eyes. Him watching you like— 

‘’Watch out!’’

Too late.

A body collided with you, hard, from the side. One of the girls tripped mid run to hit the ball, and suddenly the world turned upside down without warning. Grass. The grey sky. Impact. Your head hitting the ground hard enough to make you stay still with a low groan. There were some black points in your vision and for a second everything sounded muffed, until a sharp whistle pierced the air. 

The girl approached immediately, kneeling beside you in alarm. ‘’Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn't see you— are you okay? Don’t move.’’

You blinked a few times, staring at the sky. ‘’I’m fine,’’ you mumbled, pressing your hand on your head, making sure it was still there. ‘’It’s my fault. I was… geographically misplaced.’’

She looked confused but relieved. ‘’Oh…? Okay. Don’t stand up anyway, just take your time.’’

The coach jogged over, calling your name. ‘’Are you okay?’’ 

‘’Yeah,’’ you muttered, sitting slowly. ‘’It was just grass, it’s okay. Nature softened the hit, I guess.’’

And then, a shadow fell over you, but it wasn’t your coach or a teammate. You didn’t need to look up to know, a sense in your body recognizing the presence before your mind did. But you did look anyway and you suck a breath, cursing in your mind. 

Niki dropped beside you, crouching immediately, his expression serious. Shiting into something you never saw before, sharp and alert in a way that made your stomach flip for entirely different reasons than falling into the ground. 

Before you could process what was happening or even talk, his hands found you— sliding under your head, cradling carefully like you were struck with a metal baseball bat and not softly bonked by grass.

Your brain short-circuited and you let out a startled squeak, trying to push his hands. 

‘’I’m fine!’’ you blurted, trying to push yourself up. 

His hands didn’t move, still holding your skull. ‘’Don’t,’’ Niki said gently. 

Your heart was beating too fast for someone who just wanted a nap and a burger. 

‘’I literally fell on grass,’’ you insisted, noticing more people staring. ‘’This is not a serious injury, really.’’

Niki ignored you completely and looked up at your coach. ‘’She should go to the infirmary,’’ he suggested, voice steady and persuasive. ‘’Just in case.’’ 

Your head snapped towards him, confused. ‘’Just in case of what?’’

‘’Concussion.’’

You blinked, then laughed. ‘’No way. It was a gentle meeting between my head and nature. I’m perfectly fine.’’ 

Niki looked down at you. ‘’Do you know how concussions work?’’

The spell was faster than you. ‘’More or less.’’ 

‘’More or less,’’ he repeated, a small glint of amusement in his eyes. ‘’So you don’t actually know.’’

You clenched your teeth. ‘’I’m clearly conscious. I’m not dizzy. I can form intelligent sentences.’’

‘’Barely,’’ he said under his breath.

You gasped in outrage.

Your coach softened visibly by his tone. ‘’It’s very sweet that you’re worried about your girlfriend.’’

There was a split second of silence. And then:

‘’I am not his girlfriend,’’ you yelped at the same time Niki said smoothly, ‘’Thank you. I’ll take her.’’ 

You stared at him with both betrayal and alarm. ‘’Excuse me?’’

But Niki was already moving, and before you could react or scream his arm slided under your knees, other behind your back and the ground suddenly disappeared. 

You grabbed onto him reflexively, noticing that you were quite far from the ground. ‘’What are you doing?!’’

Carrying you apparently cost him zero effort, holding you like it was nothing. A small part of your brain noticed his arms flexing and his hard chest, but you pushed those thoughts down. 

‘’You might faint,’’ he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘’I’m not taking risks.’’

You covered your face while Niki carried you bridal-style out of the field, leaving behind teammates whispering, gasping, other laughing, definitely rumours taking a new shape. You swore you saw Jay snapping a pic, but for your mental health you told yourself that was a hallucination induced by mortification.

You squirmed in his arms, refusing to give up. ‘’Right, I will faint from humiliation!’’

‘’You’re so dramatic,’’ he chuckled. ‘’Just stay still.’’

‘’This is completely unnecessary,’’ you hissed, kicking the air. ‘’I can walk. Put me down!’’

‘’No. Stop overreacting.’’

You gasped in pure incredulity at his nerve. ‘’Me? I’m the one overreacting? You engineered this!’’ 

He glanced down, amused. ‘’How? You were the one so distracted in the middle of a game that you hit your head. What were you thinking of, anyway?’’

The spell enveloped your tongue. ‘’I was thinking about my plans for tonight when I fell. On. Grass.’’

‘’You. Hit. Your. Head.’’

‘’On grass,’’ you groaned, resuming your kicks in the air. ‘’It’s not serious!’’

‘’You don’t know how hard you hit yourself,’’ Niki tried to reason with you. He adjusted his grip on you, too comfortable to care about your protests. 

‘’I do? I was literally there?’’

‘’So was I. Saw the whole thing.’’

‘’Put me down, Nishimura.’’ 

‘’No.’’

‘’I don’t particularly enjoy being paraded like this. People are looking!’’

‘’You’re being cared for.’’

‘’Against my wishes!’’

His expression, despite the teasing and the smirk, is sharp. Watchul. With something deeper, until you realize what it was. Protective. You hated the way your pulse reacted to it, and at some point along the way you relaxed enough to rest your cheek against his chest. You were giving him the silent treatment anyway, all pouty and clinging to what little dignity you had left.

The infirmary smelled like lemon scented cleaner. It was bright and quiet, a small place with a desk and a few simple beds to lay. Niki set you down on one of them, his hands lingering on your body enough for your heart to do a backflip before he stepped back in a very professional way and not suspicious at all. 

‘’Sit,’’ he said, unnecessary. You did. 

The nurse came up with a clipboard under her arm, looking between you and Niki. ‘’What happened?’’

Before you could open your mouth, Niki started speaking. ‘’She fell, hit her head hard. Black spots, disorientation. She tried to stand up immediately,’’ he accused you. 

Your eyes widened. ‘’That’s not—’’

‘’I feared she might have a concussion,’’ Niki continued, crossing his arms and looking at you like you were a very bad behaving kid, ‘’she insisted she was fine and that’s a sign that someone is not fine.’’

You stared at him in disbelief. ‘’I fell on grass.’’

‘’She collapsed after the hit,’’ Niki told the nurse. 

The nurse hummed, clearly entertained and nodding to the story, writing something on the clipboard. ‘’Mmm-mm, I see. And you carried her all the way here?’’

‘’Yes,’’ Niki replied like it was the most obvious thing to do. ‘’For her safety. She needs a check-up.’’

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. 

‘’Well,’’ the nurse smiled, turning to you, ‘’you seem pretty alert and you didn’t lose consciousness. Let’s have you rest here for a bit just to be safe,’’ she handed you a small box of juice from her desk. ‘’Drink this, sugar helps.’’ 

You took it obediently, giving Niki a bitter side eye.

The nurse stepped back to her desk and then paused, taking the paper from the clipboard. ‘’I’ll be back with some paperwork,’’ she sent you a knowing look. ‘’Behave, you two.’’

The door closed behind her and then silence followed. 

You snorted softly. ‘’Don’t worry,’’ you said while stabbing with too much force the straw into the juice box, ‘’we’re not having a making-out session here.’’ 

The words hit your ears a second later and you froze, remembering the fucking spell. You immediately shoved the straw in your mouth like it might save you. 

Niki tilted his head, looking at you. ‘’We won’t?’’

You choked when the juice went the wrong way and you coughed until your eyes watered. ‘’—What!?’’

Niki patted your back softly, too entertained for someone who was playing hero. ‘’You heard me. That was a question.’’

You glared at him over the juice box, cheeks burning, spell threatening you. ‘’I'm not going to do anything that doesn't involve the nurse's medical advice, Nishimura.’’ 

Niki stepped close and you felt it— his fingers brushing the hem of your shorts, idly tracing the edge like it was the most natural thing to do.

‘’I like it when you call me that,’’ he muttered in that deep voice of his.

Your suspicions and alarms went off at the same time and you gave him another warning look, moving your thigh away from his fingers.

His touch followed you, but now it was his giant palm covering your thigh and gently squeezing it. 

‘’Don't,’’ you scolded him. 

He stooped, mostly. His hand still hovered there, but didn’t move further. 

‘’You got me worried out there,’’ he said, quietly. 

You studied his face— the crease between his brows, the lack of amusement or teasing. ‘’You didn’t have to carry me all the way here,’’ you mumbled.

‘’I wanted to and I’d do it again.’’

That landed harder than it should, straighter to your chest and even lower. A pause fell but it was soft, quiet, not quite awkward. It felt more like something seeking place and settling down. 

‘’Why do you run away all the time?’’ He asked, curious, searching your eyes. 

You swallowed and put the empty juice box to the side with a sigh. Your shoulder slumped a little, tiredness waving in your voice. ‘’Sometimes I feel…’’ you explained quietly. ‘’Like… there’s something in me that doesn’t let me lie, even if I wanted to,’’ you chuckled softly. 

Niki leaned in, eyes sharpening with interest. 

‘’And I don’t know how people would take that,’’ you continued, staring at the floor. ‘’What if I said too much and I hurt somebody? Or I show too much of myself? I don’t like that exposure. I don’t have any… shield or control. So I just wanna avoid those things from happening.’’

Niki didn’t interrupt you, listening attentively. He was silent for a long moment. ‘’You want to protect yourself,’’ he explained easily, making you tense a little. ‘’I know you think running makes you invisible, but it doesn't. It just makes people look harder.’’

You looked up and glanced at Niki, noticing that his face had gotten too close to yours, his eyes focussed on your lips. But before you could respond, the infirmary door opened and the nurse came back. Niki straightened up immediately as if nothing had happened and ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, the other still resting warmly on your thigh.

You didn’t scold him again or move away. 

Growing up as a witch was a series of completely out-of-context situations thrown right in your face for you to deal with. Like the time everything inside your house floated constantly for a month before you could get that power under control. Or the time you saw a rabbit, thought it was cute, and overnight your yard was overrun with rabbits from all sizes and colors until the town newspaper reported a rabbit overpopulation in your neighborhood. You hadn't realized you were controlling their energies and, unintentionally, summoning them.

So yes, you were somewhat used to surprising situations, but you still almost had a heart attack when you opened your backpack in the middle of class and two huge, deep, yellow eyes stared back at you from the darkness inside the bag. 

You nearly screamed. But the sound somehow got muffled in your throat as you quickly zipped up your backpack and cradled it against your chest like a contained bomb. Slowly, very, very slowly, you leaned forward over your desk and opened the zipper again, enough for Soomin to hear you. 

‘’What are you doing here!?’’ You whispered.

‘’I’m doing a surprise check in,’’ the owl whispered back. Inside the backpack, Soomin shifted with the quiet rustle of feathers. ‘’Supervising.’’

You squeezed your eyes shut and slowly pulled up the zipper again. You spent the entire class sitting stiffly in your chair, your backpack resting on your lap like the most suspicious object in the world while you pretended to take notes and that everything was normal and you didn’t had a fucking talking owl with you. Every small movement from inside the bag made your spine lock up and discreetly observe your surroundings, in case anyone noticed anything.

You felt the presence of the spell like a fucking dagger waiting to pierce your heart. Your mind kept cycling through every possible disaster scenario: the owl popping her head out, someone hearing her talk, someone asking you what was inside the bag. You had never been so aware of every single person in the room. When class finally ended you were one of the firsts to get the hell out of there, relief hitting you like oxygen after drowning. 

You fled the lecture hall still holding onto your backpack. 

‘’Don’t run! I’m getting dizzy,’’ Soomin whispered from inside the bag. 

‘’You snuck there! Now enjoy the ride,’’ you hissed quietly. ‘’What are you even doing here!?’’

‘’I’m monitoring and supervising, I told you I wasn't leaving you out of my sight and you been acting weird lately.’’

You pushed through the hallway doors, scanning the corridor for a quiet corner where you could finally unzip the bag and properly scold the feathered menace inside. Unfortunately, fate had other plans, of course it did, because you walked straight into Nishimura Riki.

You stopped in your tracks.

He had one hand in the pocket of his jacket, leaning lazily against the wall like he had nowhere urgent to be. When he noticed you approaching at suspicious speed with your backpack clutched like a hostage, his brows lifted slightly. Then his gaze drifted downward and slowly pointed. You followed the direction of his fingers, to the round owl head sticking out of your backpack. 

Soomin blinked at him. You froze. Soomin froze as well. For a long moment the three of you just stared at each other in a very tense and confusing silence. Niki muttered your name, a little doubtful.

‘’... Is that an owl?’’ 

Your brain ran through every possible lie in the world that you could think of, but obviously they all ran into the magic brick wall of the spell. ‘’Uh… uh… this is an animal that can be found in the forest.’’ 

You stopped talking immediately after that. Niki stared at you, then at the owl, and again at you. He didn't seem alarmed or confused, more like he wanted to understand why you would have an owl with you in the middle of the day instead of questioning how strange it was.

‘’Right,’’ he said slowly. Niki leaned a little closer, examining the bird with curiosity. ‘’And what is it doing in your backpack?’’

The truth tightened in your throat. ‘’It just… climbed in there.’’

Silence fell again, looks were exchanged and Soomin even tilted her head, taking in the boy in front of her, examining him in the same way Niki was doing. Then, he glanced at you and let out a quiet, amused breath through his nose, like he just decided not to question the situation too deeply. Niki was late to class, anyway.  

‘’You’re kind of weird,’’ he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. He looked at the owl again. ‘’What are you going to do with an owl?’’

You tightened your hold on the backpack, feeling Soomin shifting inside. You sighed. ‘’I’m… going to have a talk with her.’’ 

Ni-ki glanced down at the owl head still poking out of the zipper. The owl stared back with wide, unrepentant eyes. He nodded slowly, like that explanation made complete sense. Then he reached out without warning and casually pinched your chin in a gesture too gentle and familiar that made your brain short-circuit for a second. 

‘’Okay. We’ll talk later, yeah?’’

You just blinked at him, eyes huge and nodded. ‘’Uh-uh. Sure.’’

‘’Good luck with your…’’ he frowned and gestured vaguely at Soomin. ‘’Your forest animal.’’ 

And with that, he pushed away from the wall and walked down the hallway, disappearing into the flow of students like the entire interaction had been perfectly normal.

You stood there for exactly two seconds. Then you spun around into a more hidden corner and put the backpack down with a groan. 

“Soomin—!”

The owl immediately hopped out of the bag. ‘’Oh my God, who was that?’’

‘’What?’’

‘’That tall, intense dude. The handsome one with dark eyes,’’ she commented conspiratorially. 

‘’You snuck into my backpack, infiltrated in the university, caused me the most stressful class of my life, and you want to talk about a boy?’’

‘’Yes. Spill.’’ 

You rubbed your face, asking for patience from above. ‘’That’s Niki.’’

The owl studied the hallway where Niki had disappeared with a thoughtful expression. ‘’He’s very attractive.’’

‘’He is,’’ you conceded.

‘’He touched you very confidently,’’ she observed. 

‘’Uh— I mean— he kinda does that—’’ 

‘’And it didn’t bother you,’’ Soomin furthered her observations, blinking slowly. ‘’Are you dating him?’’

‘’No!’’

‘’You’re secretly seeing him? This is some of prohibited romance?’’

‘’What? Of course not.’’

‘’He’s your boyfriend and didn’t tell me?’’ Soomin asked with a squeak, entertained by the gossip. 

‘’I already told you no,’’ you tried to reason with her. 

‘’... Why are you blushing?’’

‘’Because... because... it's hot and I feel strange, now shut up,’’ you groaned, picking up the bird and putting her into the backpack again like you could trap the conversation inside it. 

She gasped. ‘’You like that tall boy!’’

The spell crackled throughout your body, your mind and tongue couldn't agree on what to say, but the truth did its job. ‘’I— I— I think— yes— but—’’

‘’I like that boy too. He didn’t scream when he saw me.’’

‘’You’re a bird, not a monster.’’

‘’That’s not the point,’’ Soomin scoffed. ‘’He was very gentle with you. I approve that.’’

Soomin watched you very carefully and you felt a little nudge in the heart of your magic. Her eyes softened.

‘’Oh,’’ she said. ‘’You’re so doomed.’’

You grabbed the zipper and slammed the backpack closed.

Later that day, after you took Soomin home and she promised you there would be no more surprise inspections, the library greeted you with silence and concentration. The setting sun reached some tables, the soft sound of pens writing relaxed you somehow, and the distant hum from the air conditioner in the distance served as white noise.

You were exactly where you liked to be, seated by the window, notes spread neatly. Pretty and colorful highlighters. Life under control, for once. 

That didn’t last long. 

You were finishing a paragraph about an idea you had written when a chair scraped against the floor across from you. You didn’t look up immediately, which was a big mistake.

‘’Okay,’’ a low, masculine voice said. ‘’Serious question.’’

Your pen froze mid word and you lifted your gaze, finding Niki sitting across from you like he belonged there. Elbows resting on the table, dark eyes locked on you with immovable focus.

You stared at him, putting down your pen slowly. ‘’Oh, no,’’ you doubted, straightening up as if a bomb were about to drop on you at any second. 

‘’Would you date me?’’

You stared at him completely blanky, certain you mishearded. There was no question in his tone. No hesitation. Just calm certainty, like he had already considered the options and selected the obvious one. You blinked again and looked around you, wondering if that was in fact a daydream and not reality. Maybe you casted a spell of illusion without realizing it? 

The spell stirred to life. ‘’I don't know,’’ you finally muttered. ‘’You just can’t ask me that out of nowhere!’’

His eyes sharpened, resting his chin on his hand. ‘’I just did. Let’s date.’’

‘’Niki,’’ you sighed, sending him a warning glance when he smirked at your tone. ‘’I don’t think that’s a good idea.’’ 

‘’Why not?’’

The spell tugged your tongue begging for honesty, warm and insistent, and the silence prolonged until you found how to stretch the truth. You inhaled softly, trying to collect the right words. 

‘’You look like the kind of problem I'm not really qualified for or sure I will be able to manage. Like… advanced detached emotional skills I don’t possess or want to entertain.’’

He didn’t flinch, or left, or smirked anymore. He considered your words leaning back into the chair, arms crossed, studying you like he was deciding how to make sense of what you said. 

Niki leaned forward then, forearms on the table like he was about to touch you in any second. The distance between you and him was slowly shrinking, but you felt like the walls were falling down onto your head. 

‘’How can you know that? We don’t know each other that well,’’ he explained patiently.

That was fair and he had a point. You hated that. You nodded and exhaled, unable to lie.  ‘’That’s true.’’

He waited, sensing how you were trying to expand your answer into something that made sense but it wasn't sharp and cruel. Niki’s focus didn’t waver. 

‘’I don’t know you that well,’’ you recognized, ‘’I am simply overlaying the information I have based on observational data in social interactions to form an opinion of you.’’

One corner of his mouth twitched. ‘’Observational data. Meaning you’ve been observing me.’’

‘’I mean, not on purpose or significance,’’ you explained further. ‘’And that’s not the main takeaway.’’

‘’Tell me,’’ he encouraged you, leaning even closer. ‘’What kind of problem do I look like to you? Use your data to enlighten me.’’

“You look,” you said carefully, stretching the sentence as far as it would go, “like someone who is used to getting attention without asking for it. And who doesn’t have to work very hard to keep it.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “And?”

“And,” you continued, because the spell would not let you escape halfway, “I don’t enjoy competing with other females. Especially not recreationally and emotionally. I like stable sentimental involvements.”

Niki snorted, entertained by you, clearly. ‘’I’d be an excellent boyfriend.’’

You laughed, between surprise and incredulity, it slipped so naturally out of you that you couldn't stop it. ‘’How would you know? You’ve never had a girlfriend.’’

He arched his brow. ‘’How would you know that?’’

You narrowed your eyes, taking in his challenging tone. ‘’There’s usually a different girl every weekend,” you said, far too matter-of-factly. “Statistically speaking, long-term attachment does not appear to be your preferred pattern. It’s very notable that you’re rarely alone and there's no fixed tendency on your type either.’’

But Niki didn’t look offended or insulted, or even caught, he was intrigued. ‘’Have you been keeping track?’’

Your spine straightened. ‘’Not actively. It’s more a knowledge from a passive environmental awareness situation, like… occasionally overhearing comments in the women's restroom from time to time.’’

“Environmental awareness,” he repeated. ‘’So, gossip in the women’s bathroom. That formed your opinion of me?’’

“Well, it's like noticing changes in the weather or bird migration patterns, I guess. I’m just exposing the data I gathered.’’

Niki slowly reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. ‘’You’re comparing me to migratory bird patterns? That’s your angle here?’’

“I compare your social habits to recurring seasonal behavior,” you corrected quickly. ‘’Don’t spin this on me.’’

‘’So you think I’d be a bad boyfriend.’’ 

“I think,” you corrected, choosing each word with painful care, “that you give the impression of someone who enjoys options,’’ you said, honestly falling with surprising weight. And maybe a touch of vulnerability. ‘’Not the type of male to do stable emotional interactions.’’

For a moment, he didn’t deny it. “And that bothers you?”

“It doesn’t bother me in a personal capacity right now,” you responded, then sighed when the curse nudged you again. “But it would complicate things if we get hypothetically involved together.’’

The corner of Niki’s mouth curved upward, slower this time. “So you’re considering being hypothetically involved with me.”

“I am considering the hypothetical scenario in which I evaluate the feasibility of such involvement,” you clarified, aware of how ridiculous you sounded. 

His knee brushed yours under the table and neither of you moved. ‘’Mmm, I see. But you didn’t say you won’t date me, you say you didn’t know. Explain that, then.’’

You stared at him, blinking slowly, pretending you didn’t move your fingers away from his.

‘’I said exactly that I wouldn't know how to handle the problem you represent, theoretically.’’

‘’I’d let you,’’ he simply answered. ‘’Just say yes.’’

The tension between you shifted—less teasing now, more charged. 

‘’Let’s test your theory.’’ 

‘’My theory?’’

Niki played with one of your rings. ‘’Date me,’’ he proposed, ‘’find out if I’m actually a problem. Get to know me, do your research with your own data. What do you think?’’

Your heart flipped, lost connection with your brain and poured with automatic honesty. “I am… not opposed to gathering additional data under controlled circumstances to reassess my preliminary assumptions.”

‘’I like you,’’ Niki simplified, caressing your knuckles. ‘’And I wanna know you more.’’

That simple declaration sent your heart into failure, and your cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “I find you objectively unfair,” you said, forcing steadiness into your tone. “Your face structure combined with your confidence level creates unnecessary distractions.’’

His eyes darkened slightly at that, satisfaction flickering across his features. “So that’s a yes.”

‘’It’s not a no,’’ you sighed, a little lost in the conversation. Keeping track of the thrust was already hard, but doing it under Niki’s eyes and intentions was too hard. 

‘’Saturday at the frat,’’ he straightened, victory settling over him like a final move in a game only he knew they were playing. ‘’Come to the party. We’ll be alone and nobody will bother us.’’ 

‘’But—’’

But before you could say anything else, Niki stood up and walked around the table until she was standing in front of you, leaning in until your breaths mingled and you closed your mouth. He stroked your cheek and lifted your face, holding your chin, studying you closely with a knowing look.

‘’I know you're going to try to run away,’’ he said, eyes flickering to your lips. ‘’I know you talk the way you do because you're trying to prolong the truth. I know you want this because you're not really pushing me away,’’ he murmured, his thumb rubbing your lower lip absently. ‘’You look at me the way I look at you, and it's driving me crazy, baby.’’ 

You were out of words. Niki’s gaze returned to your eyes, satisfied at the effect he had on you. He stood up, full of triumph and smiled at you, he actually fully smiled, and you just stared at Niki like you were seeing the sun for the first time.

‘’We’re dating now,’’ he mumbled, giving you one last look. ‘’And if I don't see you there, I'll come looking for you. Choose wisely,’’ he advised, already stepping back.

And that's how Niki left, leaving you stunned and recalculating in a corner of the library, your heart pounding and your cheeks flushed. 

And somehow, in a way you didn't quite understand, the day ended with you officially dating Nishimura Riki.

The fraternity house was already shaking by the time you went through the door. It wasn't surprising, because everyone wanted to be there. Nobody in their right mind would miss the chance to get close to one of the guys, to mingle with them, to get their attention. The chances of fun and craziness were too high; everyone knew about the reputation of that frat's parties. 

The air was thick with the sweet and sour aroma of alcohol, juice mixed with vodka and beer, bottles and glasses piling up everywhere. The music was so loud it pounded in your chest, the flashing lights made your footsteps blurry, and people were everywhere talking, laughing, kissing, dancing. It was the kind of party everyone would tear apart piece by piece the next day and gossip about everything that happened, because it was the kind of party where something was always happening.

You knew that your best friend was probably entangled with Jungwon in some corner of the party. You avoided touching any drop of alcohol, because adding that to a spell powered by truth was the worst idea in the world, even though that what you wanted most at that moment was a drink. 

You felt as if you had willingly walked into the lion's den, and well, you had. There didn't seem to be any safe zone; your eyes were constantly scanning for Niki to appear. This was because of the collection of accurate data, you lied to yourself. That's why you dressed so daringly. A short skirt that showed off your legs, loose hair, overly glossy lips, a long-sleeved top with a neckline that dropped just enough to show your collarbones.

It was absolutely not because of him. And then, you felt it.

It was a shift in the air, a tiny recognition of something about to happen. The weight of somebody’s attention, the feeling of being watched. You turned your face over your shoulder and locked eyes with Niki across the room, near the stairs, where he was watching you intently. 

He was surrounded by friends and other people you didn't know. When his eyes noticed you, it was as if his expression changed completely, fading into something focused and determined, satisfied. His eyes traveled over you slowly, unhurriedly, like a caress; taking in your skirt, your legs, your bare shoulders, the soft, exposed skin. You breath caught under his intense gaze, instinct kicking in from feeling like a prey. 

You turned around and blended into the crowd with ease, trying to control the mild panic and excitement coursing through your veins. You knew he was still there, keeping a close eye on you, and that running was a terrible idea. Because Niki loved a chase. You knew you were delaying the inevitable, buying more time than you had, testing limits just because you could.

You wondered if he was still following you. Wouldn't he get distracted? Wouldn't he get bored and rather pick another girl? Would he get annoyed? 

At some point you gave up and your fingers circled a plastic cup with something sweet and strong that warmed your throat and made you immediately regret it because of how good it tasted, how easy it was to drink it. You didn't know exactly where in the house you were, but it wasn't the heart of the party, it wasn't packed with people, and the music wasn't as loud.

A hand wrapped around your wrist, and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was. His thumb caressed the spot where your pulse quickened, his chest pressed against your back just enough for his breath to brush against your hair.

His mouth brushed against your ear, sending hundreds of shivers down your neck. ‘’Still running from me?’’ 

You barely turned your face, as his grip loosened from your wrist to your waist, where both hands squeezed it tightly, as if he feared you might escape. ‘’I was strategically relocating.’’

Niki laughed shortly, the sound against your ear. ‘’You saw me and tried to escape.’’

The spell cursed through your mouth before you could register it. ‘’Yes.’’

His body pressed closer to yours, making you hold your breath. ‘’Why?’’

You swallowed, searching for the right words, absentmindedly licking your lips. ‘’I wanted to know if you would follow me,’’ you admitted.

He shifted, turning your body carefully so you could face him fully. Niki’s hands were still on your waist, his touch more relaxed, but not less possessive. Up close, his eyes seemed darker, wilder, dilated under the flickering lights.

“You wore this on purpose,” he said, gaze dipping briefly to your collarbones before returning to her face. ‘’For me.’’

‘’I wore it because it's socially required to wear clothes at public events.’’

His thumbs caressed and pressed the skin of your hip, shaking his head. ‘’Not good enough. Try again and be honest.’’

The spell pushed you, taking control. ‘’I wore it because I knew you’d be here,’’ you responded before you could wrap the thought into something safer and confusing. ‘’And I wanted you to look.’’

His jaw tightened, not in anger but in restraint. ‘’You’re starting a dangerous game,’’ he warned you, voice warm and husky. ‘’Careful.’’

You shook your head, staring at him. ‘’I’m not playing,’’ you frowned, spilling truthfully. 

One of Niki’s hands slid from your waist to your back, pulling you flush against him, deliberated. The air shifted around you, your hands resting on his chest and not moving him away, too blinded by his eyes to care if anyone in the crowd saw you.

“You’re driving me insane,” he admitted, barely audible.

“You like it,” you replied, and the tremor beneath the honesty was too evident. 

His gaze flicked to her mouth. “For the record,” Niki said, “I’m about to kiss you.”

Your heart bounced, melted, reformed, and continued bouncing against your ribs. Maybe it was the spell, the drink you had, or maybe you just didn't want to fight against honesty anymore, but you smiled a little. 

‘’If you don't, I might, Nishimura,’’ you lightly threaten him.

The small distance that existed vanished like a whisper, slowly, the tension that had been built up for a long time slowly letting go, something bigger entered. He kissed you as if he had waited too long to do so and didn't want to waste another second.

It wasn't desperate or clumsy, but decisive, as if he knew exactly where and how to strike. You melted into a kiss almost immediately, letting him do as he pleased with you. He made his way into your mouth and explored it slowly, savoring the strawberry and vodka from before and your own taste. Both of your breaths caught in your throats as neither of you let go, too immersed in the kiss for breathing to be a priority. 

Your hands tangled in the honey-blonde hair at the nape of his neck, your nails slowly sliding down his skin to his neck, making him hiss into the kiss, his hands touching you more freely, exploring, daring to slip inside your skirt.

You had no idea how, but between a kiss and a breath, more kisses and muffled moans against each other's mouths, at some point your back hit a door. Niki opened it, pulled you both into a room, and cornered you against the door again, closing it with a click you barely registered. His mouth went down to yours again, one hand on your throat and the other on your jaw, as if that way he could hold you down to devour your soul in peace.

When both had to separate again because their lungs couldn't take any more, you two were a bit of a mess. Niki's full lips were swollen from kisses, barely colored by your gloss, his hair a little disheveled, eyes shining with barely contained desire. You weren't looking much better either, your skirt twisted and wrinkled from how many times Niki had grabbed and crumpled it, your cheeks flushed, and your lip marked by Niki's bite.

Niki kissed you again, but this time more gently, first your lips, then the corner of your mouth, your throat, the line of your exposed collarbones. He turned you both gently, walking into the room while continuing to kiss and gently suck on your skin, making you sigh and hold onto him, until you laid on a bed and a little bit of sense got to your fuzzy brain. 

Only then you fully looked at your surroundings. 

The light was dim, with a lamp in the corner casting a warm glow. Sneakers were arranged against the wall, some everyday shoes and some basketball shoes. Hanging from a hook near the closet was a jacket with a number and Niki's last name embroidered on the back.

You tilted your neck to get a better look and Niki interpreted it as you were giving him more space, smiling against your neck and continuing the trail of slow, wet kisses, making himself room between your legs. 

You blinked, still finding details to look at. ‘’This is your room,’’ you said.

Niki stopped briefly, looked at you and then placed a kiss on your lips. ‘’Welcome.’’

‘’This feels like important information,’’ you arched a brow, curious. 

‘’We’re busy,’’ he replied simply, leaning again to press another kiss to your mouth. Your pulse quickened, and you let him distract you with his mouth, wrapping your legs not so timidly around his waist. His lips trailed down the spine of your throat, biting the sensitive spots that made you dig your fingers into his shoulders, breathless.

Your eyes opened for a second, but it was enough to notice something at the other end of the room. It was a medium-sized cabinet hanging against the wall, made of wood and glass, a display case. Inside, carefully arranged under warm strip lighting were small collectible figures— you knew them too well. Cute, round-headed, soft features, expressive.

Hirono.

Not one. Not two. Several. Arranged too neatly to be random, they were all different, but aligned according to the collection they belonged to. It was a curated exhibition. 

The stunned gasp you let out was too loud and made Niki froze for a second, looking up from your neck. ‘’What?’’

You couldn't control the little laugh that bubbled up from you, a mixture of disbelief, excitement, and delight. ‘’You have Hirono figures!’’

Something too interesting happened. Niki blinked, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. For the first time he seemed hesitant, as if he had been caught up in a confusing crime, but at the same time, something else flashed across his face... a touch of shyness. 

He cleared his throat. ‘’What?’’

You twisted slightly in his hold to point at the display case, smiling. ‘’They’re in a diorama, aren’t they? You arranged them by series. The right ones are from the Mime set and the middle ones are,’’ you squinting your eyes, leaning in, ‘’Little Mischief. Right?’’

Niki stared at you, eyes glowing. ‘’You know them?’’ He asked slowly.

‘’Of course,’’ you looked at him incredulously. ‘’I collect them too.’’

He stepped back a little to get a better look at you, holding himself above you. ‘’You’re lying.’’

‘’I can’t lie,’’ you replied automatically, too focused on the figures to notice the slip. ‘’They even look like you, Nishimura.’’

His eyebrows shot up and he snorted. ‘’They do not.’’

‘’They do,’’ you insisted with a laugh. ‘’Look at them! Their eyes and little nose. Moody, slightly frowning, probably judging everyone internally.’’

He stared at you for a moment, as if debating whether he should be offended or not. ‘’I do not look like a Hirono figure.’’

‘’The resemblance it’s very accurate,’’ you defended your theory. 

He looked back at the figures and then at you, something unreadable flickering across his expression. No one noticed those figures when they entered his room. Not the guys on the team or his friends; maybe Jungwon took a picture of them once but didn't ask any further questions about it. Definitely not the girls who came and went and whose names he didn't bother to remember afterward. 

But you did, without a second thought, without trying to impress him. “You’re the first person who’s ever said anything about them,” he blurted, before he could stop himself.

The confession floated between the two of you, as soft as the muffled music that could be heard from below. You felt your face slowly lose its smile, your expression becoming gentler. 

‘’They're arranged as if you cared about them, as if you'd thought it carefully. Of course I noticed.’’ 

He closed the small space and kissed you once again, while his fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face. ‘’What am I gonna do with you?’’

‘’You’re the one who dragged me here.’’

‘’You talking about my collection distracted me more than necessary.’’

You smiled a little. ‘’They’re cute.’’

He shook his head, stealing another kiss. ‘’You’re cuter.’’

The spell sparkled but this time you didn’t feel it like a threat or a trap, just letting it take its course. ‘’You look unfairly attractive when you’re flustered,” you observed. 

‘’I’m not flustered.’’

‘’Liar,’’ you scoffed. 

Niki huffed a quiet laugh and kissed you again, slowly. His hands slipped back under your skirt, and you didn't stop him, letting his palms cover and caress your thighs as he devoured your mouth like someone who had all the time in the world. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let each kiss melt you more and more, until the migratory patterns of birds no longer mattered to you, nor did the spell, letting Niki convince you with every touch that he wasn't a problem you could easily run away from.

Maybe it was because your lungs had their daily dose of suffering when they made you run ten laps around the field, or maybe the concussion from days ago was a delayed effect, but you were just too dizzy.

Niki's body pushed you further against the wall, as if the way you were pressed together wasn't enough and he needed more. It wasn't a soft kiss, but the kind of kisses Niki gave where you were convinced he wanted to steal the air from your lungs and replace it with him. 

The bastard knew exactly which buttons to push, his warm hand cradling your jaw while the other one was inside your shorts, long fingers buried deeply in your dripping cunt. His thumb gently stroked your cheek, in that way he knew it would melt you too quickly. It did.

When he pulled back you were too disoriented to remember where you were; hidden from stares under the stands in broad daylight, feeling like two highschoolers furiously making out before getting caught. Your heart was pounding as if you had made ten more laps, moans stuck in your throat trying to keep them at bay, but the way Niki was fingering you was merciless.

‘’Come watch my training,’’ he murmured against your ear, lips kissing the sport under it. His fingers found the spot inside you that made you whimper, stroking it over and over. ‘’I want to see you there, sitting all pretty and mine. Where I can look at you.’’

He had tried to convince you for several days, and you had to admit the man had a certain charm that made you hesitate. Maybe it was the amazing orgasms. Once you had almost agreed, but when a girl you didn't know greeted you and asked what you did to get Niki and if it was true that he had a huge cock like his friends, you panicked a little and abandoned the idea. The spell was coming to an end and you weren't going to give in.

‘’If you don’t,’’ he added, voice dripping into something dangerous and playful at the same time, ‘’I won’t kiss you again. Or worse.’’

You blinked at him, cunt clenching around his fingers, cheeks flushed. ‘’O-or worse?’’ 

Niki hummed and nodded, fucking you faster until you gasped against his lips and he swallowed every moan of yours while you cum, holding you as your thighs trembled and crushed his hand between your legs. 

He deliberately brushed his fingers against your clit one last time as he withdrew his hand and brought them to his mouth, sucking your juices while continuing to look at you. Niki didn’t say anything else, just kissed you, so fondly and threatening at the same time, and walked away towards the field like nothing had happened. Wearing an eating-shit smirk, whistling softly to himself. 

You stared at him, recalculating your entire existence, just as you had from the moment Niki decided to be a part of your life weeks ago. 

You told yourself that maybe it was the afterglow of a good orgasm, or maybe you just had nothing better to do, or perhaps a part of you really wanted to watch Niki training, all sweaty and focused. The day felt like it was about to explode into a storm at any moment, the sky gray and covered with thick, threatening clouds waiting for the perfect opportunity. There was hardly anyone watching the boys, just a few girls a few steps up in the stands— Minju was there.

Buttercup as well.

Minju had grown fond of her chickens and had bought accessories to take them everywhere. Her most recent purchase was a backpack with a hard, clear plastic cover that was actually for walking cats, but the label didn't specify that it couldn't be used for chickens.

She was leaning forward, with lovestruck eyes and a silly, dreamy expression, watching Jungwon run. Inside the plaster carrier Buttercup was dozing off, relaxed and round. Your best friend noticed your hesitation and smiled at you, tapping the spot next to her with an expression that said, "you better sit down or I'm capable of tackling you to the ground if you take one step back."

You sat. 

The world didn’t combust instantly. Minju beamed and turned her attention back to the field. You gradually relaxed and leaned forward as well, resting your chin on your hand as you openly watched Niki. He had just finished a drill and was talking to Heeseung (who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but running there, clearly struggling) (he was the last victim to be convinced to join the open class), when his eyes flickered up to the stands and landed on you. 

You swore you saw his pupils dilating. Something in his expression changed and his smile was slow. Darker, satisfied, making your stomach flip and your pussy throb. But it didn't stop there. Niki was focused on training, of course, but every now and then he'd glance at you, as if making sure you were still there. You met his gaze each time, even smiling slightly and enjoying the way it seemed to affect him. 

You'd discovered that this was a two-way street, and that Niki, the unattainable and serious Niki, was capable of getting flustered. Like when he asked you which Hironos you collected and if he could see them, and which one was your favorite. Or the time you just kissed his neck and brushed his hair back without thinking about it too much, and Niki blinked and then melted against you.

The training session ended and the boys scattered everywhere, some going for water, others lying on the ground to stretch, but not Niki. He walked straight to you, determined eyes that held you still in your place, your pulse spiking with anticipation. 

He kissed you in front of everybody, hands cradling your face.

Minju gasped, you swore Buttercup made a similar sound, other peoples gasps reached your ears as well, but honestly it could have been a trick of your mind. Nothing existed around you but you and Niki.

He pulled back enough to grin at you, eyes soft and bright with a touch of mischief. ‘’Hi, baby.’’

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts. ‘’Uh… Hi.’’

‘’Ready to go?’’

You nodded, still a little hazy and flustered. He took your hand, pulled you up, grabbed his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and got you out of there in less than two minutes. He also ignored Jay throwing kisses at him while leaving. 

Niki decided to break the silence first, your hand in his gently swaying, intertwined. ‘’There’s a party tonight at Jake’s,’’ he started, stealing a glance at you. ‘’Jay’s pretending we don't notice, but he wants to get a girl's attention.’’

You arched a brow, interested. ‘’Is he trying to set a trap there or what?’’

‘’That’s what I thought,’’ he huffed a laugh, drawing you closer to him. ‘’He’s been weird lately. Restless. Anyway, Jake wants us to keep an eye on the party. He know how things can get.’’ 

You gently bumped your shoulder against his, trying not to smile and failing. ‘’Is this your way of asking me to come with you?’’

‘’This is an opportunity for you to continue collecting new data to establish your patterns. Or have I already convinced you that I'm not a problem?’’

‘’Hmm. You are... doing an acceptable job in proving your case considering my prior judgment based on social environmental observation. Maybe you'll give me back my sunglasses too, Nishimura?’’

‘’They will remain my hostage until you accept that I was right and that I can be a good boyfriend.’’

You didn't correct him and Niki noticed.

Jake's house was exactly the chaos you imagined it to be, maybe a little smaller and more contained than the frat parties, but no less alive and vibrant for it. Before you could go inside and find Niki, something small and black, furry, jumped out from the side and meowed at you. The cat blinked slowly at you, and you tilted your head, studying it, feeling an energy emanating from it that stopped you before you could pet its head. You chuckled softly in disbelief, glancing at the cat and then back at Jake's house as if you were mentally running through the odds.

‘’I can’t believe it,’’ you mumbled, staring at the knowing eyes of the cat. 

‘’Welcome, dear,’’ the cat purred. ‘’I’m Minhyung and you're the one with the truth spell, aren't you?’’

‘’Unfortunately.’’

The cat meowed and laughed, shaking his head. You had to admit, it was too cute and fluffy to even care that it was probably an ancient soul, so of course you petted his ears softly. 

‘’Aish, that punishment was too much. Anyway, your boy’s inside. It’s a house full of witches tonight,’’ Minhyung observed, tilting his head so he could get more pets to his ears and neck.

You entered the house, greeted by loud pulsing music and drunken laughter. You recognized some faces among the dancing crowd, the dim light and the smell of liquor, like Jake taking a girl upstairs and Jungwon and Minju huddled in a corner devouring each other's faces. You slowly made your way through the party, not quite knowing where you were going or where to find Niki, your body trembling with anticipation. It was impossible not to.

In the short time you and he had spent together, Niki had done an incredibly good job training your body. Maybe it was the slow making out sessions in bed, or the way he buried his face between your legs like an starved man, or the intense way he looked at you sometimes, as if he were thinking about throwing you to the ground and fucking you until you couldn't take any more.

You just wanted to find him, sit him down on the nearest surface you could find, and ride him while you kissed him. And maybe then watch something while spooning.

Your steps led you to the almost deserted backyard and you pursed your lips, examining your surroundings without much success, when a hand encircled your wrist and you were cornered against the wall.

Niki placed one hand beside your head and the other settled comfortably on your waist. His eyes drifted to your lips, slowly and deliberately, as if he were thinking about how to kiss you.

‘’You took your sweet time,’’ he said, tilting your chin up. ‘’I was wondering if maybe you backed out.’’

You rolled your eyes. ‘’I said I would come. Why, Nishimura? Would you have missed me?’’

‘’Yes.’’

His thumb brushed your hip and you felt it everywhere, staring at his full lips while he was closing the distance and—

Your phone started ringing with the most annoying alarm ever. 

‘’Wait—wait— let me turn it off—’’

Niki exhaled though his nose, amused. ‘’Seriously?’’

You frowned a little. ‘’I don't even remember setting an ala—’’

You glanced at the screen, blinking completely shocked like you quite didn’t understand what was written on it. 

FULL LUNAR CYCLE COMPLETED!!!

You gasped loud, dramatic, so loud that startled Niki.

He looked at you urgently. ‘’What?’’

You stared at the words like it was some divine intervention. You let out a shriek and jumped on your place, laughing. 

‘’Oh my God!— OH MY GOD!’’

You threw your arms around Niki’s neck so suddenly that he catched you firmly to stop both of you from falling over. You were screaming and laughing and Niki laughed too, more startled and confused than anything, automatically wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you. 

‘’It’s over! I can believe it! I did it!’’ You laughed again, a little hysterical. ‘’It’s over, it’s over!’’

He blinked down at you, the pure face of confusion. ‘’What is?’’

‘’I survived the whole lunar cycle! It’s over! I’m free!’’

You were practically bouncing in his arms, pulling back only to grab his face and grin at him like you just won millions. 

‘’A month,’’ you started, smiling too wide. ‘’An entire lunar cycle! made it!’’

Niki stared at you, arching a brow. ‘’Lunar cycle?’’ He repeated slowly. ‘’...Is this about your period or something?’’

You didn’t even hear him, skipping away from him and spinning around the yard with your arms in the air. ‘’I can shut up! I can lie! I have options!’’

He watched you like you officially lost your mind.

You approached him again and took his hands, jumping with a smile. ‘’Do you have any idea how hard is to live without lying even once?’’

Niki’s eyebrow shoots up. ‘’You haven’t been lying this whole time?’’

You beamed at him. ‘’I haven’t!’’

He squinted at you, nodding. ‘’That… explains a lot.’’ 

‘’I’m free,’’ you whispered dramatically. ‘’It’s over.’’

Niki stared at you for a whole moment and then, very slowly, he smiled. Not a smug smirk or his teasing grin. A soft, pretty, full smile. Warm and completely smitten by you. 

You were still dancing in tiny, excited circles close to him when Niki reached out, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you flush against his body in one smooth motion.

‘’I have no idea what’s happening,’’ he admitted quietly, brushing his nose with yours. ‘’But you look too adorable to care.’’

He kissed you, deeply, sighing into the kiss like he just found the place where he belonged. Niki held you against him, hands firm and possessive, like he was anchoring you to him. The party noises blurred into something in the back of your mind and you melted against him, fingers curling into his shirt. 

When he finally separated from your lips, a thread of saliva joined them both, which he slowly licked from your mouth. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands wandering further down until he grabbed your ass.

‘’So,’’ he murmured, staring at your eyes, ‘’does this mean you’re going to start lying to me now?’’

You smiled, slow and seductive, stealing a short kiss from him. ‘’That,’’ you whispered sweetly, ‘’depends.’’

His eyes darkened. ‘’On what?’’

You tilted your head, pretending to think about it while biting your lip. Niki’s gaze followed the movement. 

‘’On how good you’re gonna fuck me tonight.’’ 

Niki promised himself that Jake would never find out, despite all their years of friendship, that he used his parents' empty room to have sex with you in the middle of a party. But it was so fucking worth it. 

Maybe you had bitten off more than you could swallow because Niki took your challenge too seriously and you were paying for it with orgasms that didn't let you string a single thought together, your body simply reacting to his will. His mouth was closed over your nipples, alternating between sucking one and then the other until they were red and tender as you moaned and your vision blurred with a second orgasm incoming, his fingers pushed inside your soaked wet pussy. 

‘’That’s it,’’ he mumbled quietly around your nipple, sucking it again while you arched and moaned. ‘’Just take it, baby. Cum again for me, let me stretch this pretty pussy for my cock.’’ 

You gasped from overstimulation, listening to the wet noises your pussy made each time Niki thrusted his fingers inside fast and hard, clinging to his hair and pushing it towards your tits, Niki growled and sucked your nipples roughly, swirling his tongue. You came with a muffled scream and whimpered when Niki didn’t stop, your pussy tightening around his fingers as if you didn't want to let them go.

He chuckled darkly, staring at you completely fascinated at the state you were. Panting, teary, marked everywhere by his mouth; red hickeys blooming all over your neck down your chest, to the pretty and soft skin of your breasts, nipples swollen from having sucked them for so long. So prettily destroyed by him, and it was just the beginning.

‘’Fuck,’’ you whispered, a trembling mess, tears failing from pleasure. You sobbed a short laugh. ‘’You’re such a menace, Nishimura.’’

Niki straightened with a proud smirk and began working his belt, your eyes immediately fixed on the tent in his pants. You licked your lips and replaced his hands, opening his pants and pulling down his boxers until his hard cock sprang out, hard and veiny. Too big. 

‘’No way.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’It’s… so big,’’ you breathed in short gasps, encircling his cock with both hands and pumping it slowly, making him moan. You looked at it from under your eyelashes, rubbing the tip with your thumb, spreading the precum leaking. You were a girl open to accepting challenges, but this worried you a little. ‘’I don’t think it’ll fit, Niki.’’

Niki simply smiled smugly, his dark eyes filled with desire. He flipped you onto the bed, making you yelp because of how sudden and abrupt it was. Your pussy fluttered and a new gush of wetness soaked you, feeling his hands wandering through your body, gripping and squeezing your waist, your thighs, the curve of your ass. 

‘’It won’t fit,’’ you repeated shakily, even as you let Niki position you however he wanted. Face pushed down, ass up, your back arched so prettily that made him grunt and spank you. You whimpered and you turned your head, trying to look at him. ‘’Are you listening to me?’’

‘’Of course I’m listening,’’ he said, positioning himself behind you and caressing your ass with his cock, gently rubbing against your skin. He slipped his cock between your folds and began to rub it lazily back and forth making you feel how hard it was, how big it was. You dripped all over him with a moan each time the head of his cock grazed your throbbing clit. ‘’Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make it fit just fine. You’re ready for me, you trust me, right?’’

‘’Y-yeah,’’ you moaned, feeling the tip of his cock lining up to your hole, barely pushing. Niki grabbed your hips, held you down onto the bed and slowly guided his cock inside you. ‘’I do.’’

The head of his cock pushed against your entrance, forcing its way in little by little and stretching you completely. You gasped and opened your legs wider as he pushed his cock inch by inch, making you whimper at its thickness. Fuck. You had never felt so full, so stretched out and open, a loud moan leaving without you could control yourself. 

‘’Relax for me, pretty girl,’’ he said quietly, still keeping the slow but unforgiving pace. You tried not to tense up, but everything was both too much and too little, gently sniffing against the bed as your pussy tightened around Niki's cock. ‘’Just like that, taking me so well.’’

Niki hissed softly, feeling your cunt wrapping so tight his cock was the hottest thing he ever saw; how your pretty, wet hole creamed his length. 

‘’You’re doing so well, baby,’’ he whispered, hands holding you in place, big hands caressing your waist, your ass. ‘’Opening your pretty pussy for me, letting me fill you. You can feel it, don’t you? How deep it goes?’’

You nodded, drool dripping into the pillow as coherent thoughts left your head and all you could feel was his cock inside you, making you clench so hard around him it made him moan. Niki's thrusts were slow and deep, and you swore it made you feel him all the way to your stomach. He was buried too deep inside you, each push of his thick cock stretching you further until the pleasure was too much. 

His pace quickened, his cock sliding in more easily because of how wet you were and how he had opened you up. ‘’Look at you,’’ he sneered, giving your ass a firm squeeze. ‘’Taking my cock so well, greedy pussy’s sucking me in,’’ he moaned, low and dirty. ‘’Fucking take it like a good girl.’’

Your moans grew louder and your eyes rolled back in your head as he began to fuck you faster, pounding you hard from behind. You cried from pleasure into the mattress, your pussy tightened and dripped around him, milking him with each thrust that went so far you were sure his tip was grazing your cervix. Niki was fucking you so hard that the bed moved, hitting the wall softly and you could’t do anything but to take it, a moaning mess. 

‘’Not so mouthy now, right?’’ He scoffed, giving you another spank, making you whimper and squeeze his cock harder. ‘’That’s what I fucking thought,’’ he chuckled, burying himself into your cunt faster, with a low groan. 

‘’Niki,’’ you moaned, barely able to form a sentence, not feeling anything but his thick cock and his ruthless pace, the way he was filling you. ‘’Please— I’m gonn—’’

‘’Ah, ah, not until I say so,’’ he warned you, laughing when you whined and sobbed when another spank landed on your ass. ‘’Not until you fucking say this pussy is mine. C’mon, baby, don’t keep me waiting. Say it.’’ 

‘’I-it’s—,’’ you moaned again, cunt stretched out and throbbing around him, every thrust sending you over the edge. He hit your g-spot over and over, making you tremble. ‘’It’s yours—’’ 

‘’That’s right,’’ he mumbled, slamming into your harder, deeper and desesperate; sweat dripping from his temple. ‘’Say I’m not a fucking problem.’’

‘’Niki!’’ You sobbed softly, hardly holding back from shattering. He just hummed darkly, almost amused. You shook your head quickly and moaned again, too gone to even care to lie, your pussy throbbing around his cock, needy and desperate. ‘’You’re not a problem—’’

‘’Cum for me, baby, milk my fucking cock,’’ he ordered, voice rough and husky going straight to your core. The pleasure was so intense that once you reached the peak, it simply destroyed you, leaving you trembling and broken. You were too full, overstimulated, squeezing his cock as your climax coursed through you, leaving you a whimpering mess. ‘’I’m filling this pretty hole until it overflows,’’ he promised, voice used and hoarse. ‘’Beg for it.’’

You looked at Niki from the pillow, eyelashes with unshed tears and a completely spaced out expression from being fucked too good, cheeks flushed and makeup smudged. You blinked slowly and licked your lips, milking his cock with the spasms of your cunt.

‘’Don’t pull out,’’ you gasped softly, reaching for him. Niki didn’t doubt it for a second, holding your hand while slamming into your pussy almost brutally. ‘’I want it inside—please—fill me up,’’ you begged with a broken moan. ‘’Mark my pussy with you cum—’’

Niki cursed under his breath, railing you almost at a punishing pace, using your hole until you were both moaning with raw desperation. You never felt anything so intense before and your body couldn't handle it, making you come for the fourth time with a scream as Niki buried himself deep inside you, coming with a hoarse moan. 

You collapse onto the bed, your knees giving away, your whole body trembling and sensitive. Every part of you was throbbing, used and spent. Niki spilled his load inside your cunt and you moaned softly at the feeling, flooding your womb with hot ropes of cum, making you feel so full. His body covered yours and you could feel his racing heart in your back, staying inside you as you both tried to catch your breath. 

You laid there, enjoying his weight against you, the sensation of his cock filling you, and his hot cum slowly escaping from your hole. Niki moved a little and you moaned, tensing up a little, but he gently silenced you, slowly kissing your neck until you relaxed again. 

‘’Shhh, it’s fine,’’ he said quietly, coaxing you with more soft kisses. ‘’You’re okay?’’

You nodded and sobbed a little, still holding onto his hand. Your mind felt… flying somewhere. A wave of need filling you that you didn't understand, only knowing that you wanted his warmth surrounding you. ‘’Don’t leave.’’

‘’I won’t,’’ he reassured you, slipping out of your cunt carefully. You hissed because of the sensitivity and Niki kissed your shoulder, silently apologizing. ‘’C’mere.’’

Niki settled on his side and pulled you close to his chest, studying your face while drying the wetness from your cheeks with his thumb unhurriedly, fondly. You snuggled into his chest and sighed, too drunk on orgasms to even think, just needing him closer. Niki kissed your forehead, lips lingering there, arms wrapping securely around you, making you completely content and warm. Heart fluttering happily, but that was another thing. 

‘’So? You’re gonna start lying to me?’’

You chuckled tiredly, smiling to yourself with your eyes closed. ‘’No if you keep the good work, Nishimura.’’

‘’I told you I’d be an excellent boyfriend.’’ 

[musz777-deactivated20260323]

heeseung pulls you flush against his chest, his strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds slowly into you. his lips brush your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine. in a deep, husky voice filled with lust and quiet defiance, he whispers,

“sign the petition, drop my hashtags on x, and boycott hybe… like my good fucking girl”

[ghostintheclub]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy 🤭

[binsown]

He loved her doubts away..

Boyfriend!Leeknow x insecuregirlfriend!reader

Authors note: sorry I’ve been gone, assignments and work are killing me!!! Enjoy some soft but smutty Minho 😘😘

Warnings: Slight angst (reader is insecure), oral (fem receiving, dom/sub switch (I think anyways..), praise, overstimulation, perv Leeknow, grinding

You had always been a little insecure. Sometimes staring into the mirror picking apart your features; Nose, lips, chest, stomach, thighs.. especially your thighs. You always hated how big they were when you put on jeans, skirts, etc.

You’re sat on your boyfriend’s bed, cuddled up with his cats; soonie, doongie and Dori. Soonie was lay across your chest and purred when you scratched behind his ears. You were just scrolling on your phone, watching videos on how to make your thighs thinner. Leeknow, your boyfriend walks into the room and snatches your phone with a grin.

“Wait Minho don’t-“ You say, panic in your voice.

His eyes move to the phone, gaze shifting from playfulness to concern. Minho looks at you with sadness written all over his features. His lips part as he sighs softly, shaking his head and throwing your phone across the bed. He orders the cats to move away from you, scurrying off to a different room in the house.

“Y/n..” He starts, sitting on the edge of the bed and his hand rests on your knee. “Why were you reading this?”

Your expression changes, eyebrows furrowing with sadness. “I..- I don’t know. I just hate-“

Leeknow cuts you off with a squeeze to your knee. “Don’t.” His voice was stern. He peels the blanket from your legs and stares down at your thighs. Your hands move to cover them and he grips your wrists, not tight enough to hurt but enough to move them away. “Don’t hide from me..”

Your breath hitches as you look away, his hand on your knee moving upwards to your thigh. Leeknow shifts on the bed so his hands are wrapped around your thighs, gripping them possessively.

“Do you want to know one of my favourite things about you?” He asks, making you nod softly. “How irresistible your fucking thighs are baby..” He groans, head moving to rest against your right one.

His hands move to part them as he positions himself in between, causing you to let out a breathy sigh. Leeknow looks up at you as he kisses your left one softly, sucking and biting at the supple skin. He groans against the skin, leaving purple splotches all along your inner thigh as he moves to the other one, giving it the same attention.

“M- Minho..~”

He grins against you, hand moving to grip the bruised skin. Minho’s fingers move slowly to your white laced panties, chuckling darkly. “Already so wet for me..”

He circles your clit through the soaked fabric, causing you to moan and tilt your head back. His movements stop and he stares up at you, feline-like eyes fixed on the contortions your face is making.

“Say it.” He states, chin resting on your thigh. “Say you love these thighs..”

You whimper, body squirming for more of his touch. “I- I.. I love my thighs~”

Minho chuckles. “Good girl..” He praises before shoving his nose right up against your panties. He sniffs your arousal, whimpering slightly as his thumb on your clit begins to rub small circles. “Fuck kitten, you smell so divine..~”

He wastes no time taking off your panties, delving back into your pussy. His tongue licks up your slit before he eats you out like a man starved. His hands move to grip your thighs, kneading the dough that’s spilling from them.

Minho eats you for what felt like hours, whimpers coming out of his mouth as he whispers praise against your pussy.

“Come on baby, you can take my tongue..~”

“That’s it, such a good kitten”

“These thighs were made to crush my face~”

Leeknow finally stops once you push him away, body overstimulated and sensitive. You lay beneath him, hair sweaty and sticking to your face as you breathed heavily. He chuckles, your juices coated on his face as he comes up to kiss you gently. Minho’s hand moves to push hair from your face, continuing to kiss you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“Don’t ever.. say you hate anything about yourself ever again.” He pants against your lips, grinding against your thigh, covered in a mix of your juices and his spit, to relieve himself. He’d already came in his boxers from your little moans and whimpers. However it was your thighs pressing against his head that made him fully lose it.

“Minho, why don’t you let me help you..?” You say, knowing this may go on for a long time…

Taglist: @bangingchanxx @testingspider

[rikibabyyy]

yall thought i wasn’t brave enough

[rikibabyyy]

🫧Chan bubble update 23/02/26

21:36 GMT

YOU TELL THEM CHANNIE!!