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dollyyun · 3 months ago

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⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it.

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing.

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face.

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth.

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father.

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving.

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death.

Eventually, they got close. Really close.

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day.

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all.

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later.

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him.

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left.

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too.

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot.

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand.

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced.

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention.

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best.

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips.

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited.

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles.

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard.

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around.

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him.

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife.

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do.

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now.

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you.

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note.

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an ‘Alright’.

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you.

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me”

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone.

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic.

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact.

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here.

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying.

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer.

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods.

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask”

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively.

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French! You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments.

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad.

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side.

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again.

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what.

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt.

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch)

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him.

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.

…

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action.

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room.

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note).

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really.

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest.

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number.

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open.

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying.

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note.

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you.

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too.

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer.

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug.

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face.

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief.

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it.

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern.

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure.

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either.

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back.

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance.

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers.

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests.

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father?

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment.

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left”

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless.

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously”

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples.

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition.

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close.

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence.

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles.

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris”

____

Shortly after, Jay returned to France.

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you.

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you.

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked.

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were.

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied.

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings.

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense.

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare.

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it”

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time.

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay”

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say.

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name”

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?).

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself.

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for.

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it.

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy.

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you.

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live.

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home.

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it.

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food.

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't.

What shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind.

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in.

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural.

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey”

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action.

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved.

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen.

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you.

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile.

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head.

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him.

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add.

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually.

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again.

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true.

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no.

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer.

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here.

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name.

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him.

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day.

“Wait here” Jay said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you”

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you.

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall.

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes.

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting.

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else”

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words.

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure.

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again.

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it.

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes.

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven.

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books.

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all”

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book.

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you.

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark.

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face.

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale.

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you.

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious.

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying.

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?”

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different.

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him.

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up.

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic”

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still, watching you.

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way.

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet.

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single.

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes.

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing.

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after”

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit.

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day.

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass.

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall.

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind.

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious.

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner.

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you.

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further.

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same.

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from?

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy.

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is.

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table.

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it.

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone.

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong.

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed.

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience.

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf.

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature.

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island.

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him.

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has.

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous.

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even.

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable.

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling.

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head.

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose.

Were you?

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone.

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close.

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time.

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out.

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much”

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart.

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble.

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments.

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful.

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia.

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise.

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen.

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too.

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you.

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Older” you correct, too deliberately.

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't.

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all.

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true.

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too.

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink.

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always.

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close.

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room.

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter.

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then.

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed.

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly).

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake.

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does.

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want.

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen.

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world.

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet.

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night.

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board.

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter.

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him.

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head.

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home.

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you.

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him.

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons.

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction.

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say.

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you.

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good.

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him.

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would.

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her”

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?”

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you.

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off.

____

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep.

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely.

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder.

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”, as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now.

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk.

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments.

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door.

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno.

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t.

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable.

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face.

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you.

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea.

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to.

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words.

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you. It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his.

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough.

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is.

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care.

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together.

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel.

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either.

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all.

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention.

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself.

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling.

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it.

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start.

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake.

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?”

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?”

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him.

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this.

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling.

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement.

“You should go to sleep” he swallows.

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to.

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you.

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door.

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question.

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face.

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring.

________

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times.

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to.

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still, he’d watch his friend on stage every time.

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant.

Tonight is also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress.

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now.

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind.

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion.

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way.

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all.

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long.

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels.

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin.

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing.

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass.

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same.

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it.

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever.

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do.

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course.

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him.

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment.

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly.

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though.

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him.

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher.

“Am I?” you breathe out.

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin.

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening.

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even.

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants.

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him.

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily”

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was. She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed.

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news.

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister, complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed.

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him.

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through.

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life.

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can.

Right now, you couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to.

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious.

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him.

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body.

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well.

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice almost makes it sound true.

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened.

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion.

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night.

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it.

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it.

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones.

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from.

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable?

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk.

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you.

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch.

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world.

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm.

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight.

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand.

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about. “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened.

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he?

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question, making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief.

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses.

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic.

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate”

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it?

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere.

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this.

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine.

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore.

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker.

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice.

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life.

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace.

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply.

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him.

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city).

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least.

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips “I miss you”.

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all.

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer. He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him.

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you.

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more.

“I miss you too, sweetheart”

_____

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning.

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks.

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that.

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend.

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that.

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree.

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed.

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him.

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other.

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway.

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile.

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod.

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick.

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you.

He swallows, and nods, knowing he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother.

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it.

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him.

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed.

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry.

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned.

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it.

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him.

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter.

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak.

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer.

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it.

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?”

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned.

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt. He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat.

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me”

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off.

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer?

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you.

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder.

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open.

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay”

And so he does.

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month.

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction.

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free.

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home.

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy.

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely.

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be.

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs.

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion.

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get.

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment.

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words.

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly.

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in.

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office.

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden.

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't.

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious.

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly.

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would.

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock.

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form.

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length.

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body.

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that.

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings.

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button.

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?”

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound.

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..”

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable.

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker.

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though.

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness.

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances.

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend.

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir.

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

#ruby’s tbr #waiting (im)patiently to devour this after ramadan ends #🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻#older jay will ALWAYS be my fav #ruby’s mooties #ayis♡

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dollyyun · 3 months ago

Text

P: Vampire!Sunghoon X Human!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Requested by: @doudouhoon -> request

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Supernatural Elements, Hypnosis, Mature Content, Obsession, Feral Behaviour, Chasing, Blood Consumption, Suggestive Content, Stalking, Murder, Possessive Behaviour.

Wordcount: 10.4k

Synopsis: Life was going smoothly—graduation was on the horizon, and your future seemed set. That is, until the new exchange student arrives. Stunningly handsome and impossible to ignore, he quickly leaves you both captivated and uneasy. Soon, strange occurrences follow. Objects move when you're not looking, whispers fill the air, and at night, you swear you see a pair of glowing red eyes and a set of sharp teeth watching you from the shadows.

a/n: nosferatu ass.... im just kidding! please read the request before commencing!

True love wasn’t something you believed in—not in this generation, at least. The idea that two souls were meant for each other, so deeply intertwined that they would do anything for one another and never love another? Yeah, right. People these days didn’t know the meaning of love. They were more interested in body counts.

That’s why, every time you watched an old movie where lovers were so consumed by each other that they would sacrifice everything—sometimes even their own lives—you couldn’t help but feel like you were born in the wrong era. The devotion, the passion, the kind of love that wasn’t afraid to burn bright and destroy anything in its path—that was what you longed for. And yet, in stark contrast, your phone would light up with another message, another boy asking you something inappropriate, something empty, something that only reinforced the view of a world that had forgotten what love was supposed to be.

So you were never interested in finding a relationship. Even now, as you were finishing your years at college, you never looked into dating, choosing instead to focus on your studies. It wasn’t that you were incapable of love—you just hadn’t found anything worth your time.

You watched your friends fall in and out of relationships, some getting their hearts broken over people who never deserved them in the first place. You listened to them cry over boys who barely remembered their favorite color, who only seemed to care when it was convenient for them. And you? You refused to be part of that cycle. You had more important things to do than entertain the idea of a half-hearted love.

The only love you entertained was the love from your fantasy romance books—emphasis on the fantasy part. The love stories within those pages were different. They all made reality seem unbearably dull.

It was the kind of love that made your heart ache, not because you had never experienced it, but because you knew you never would. Not in this world.

You would spend nights curled up with a book in your hands, losing yourself in tales of knights vowing their lives to the ones they loved, of immortal beings waiting centuries just for a single touch. You devoured every word, every aching confession. Because in those stories, love was sacred. It wasn’t something people tossed aside when they got bored.

Reality, on the other hand, had never given you anything close to that. Real love—if it even existed—seemed watered down, temporary. A series of situationships, and eventual disappointments. It was nothing like the slow-burn intensity you read about, nothing like the soul-deep connections that had you believing two hearts could truly beat as one.

So you didn’t really expect anything close to love during the rest of your time in college. You had long accepted that romance, at least the kind you dreamed of, wasn’t meant for you.

Love—real, all-consuming love—was a fantasy. And you were done chasing fantasies.

But life had a cruel sense of irony.

Because in what world would something straight out of a fairytale come to life?

Apparently, in your world.

At first, you didn’t suspect anything peculiar about him. He was just another student, another presence in a school filled with people you barely paid attention to. But the more you saw him, the more you noticed. And with that noticing came something else—something strange.

Park Sunghoon. The new student who appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the semester, walking into class like he owned the air around him. He was cold-looking, unreadable, his expression carefully blank as if he had already seen everything this place had to offer and wasn’t the least bit impressed. The type of guy who could sit in the back of the class, say nothing, and still have half the room sneaking glances his way.

You didn’t think much of him at first. Just another student. Just another stranger you’d never utter a word to.

Right?

Yeah. No.

Because, as it turned out, Sunghoon had no plans of leaving you as just another face in the crowd.

You weren’t sure when it started. The way he always seemed to be around, even when you swore you were alone. The way your name rolled off his tongue so easily, as if he had known you for much longer than a few weeks. The way his eyes—cold and indifferent to everyone else—would soften, just barely, when they landed on you.

And then there were the other things. The strange things.

Like how you could’ve sworn you saw him somewhere one night, only for him to act like he had never left his dorm the next day. Like how, when you nearly slipped on the stairs, something unseen had steadied you before you could even react—only for Sunghoon to be standing at the bottom, watching.

Like how he always seemed to know things he shouldn’t.

It was eerie. It was unsettling.

But what was worse was that no one else seemed to notice.

To everyone else, Sunghoon was just the mysterious new guy, someone to admire from afar but never get too close to. He was quiet, reserved, uninterested in making friends. A mystery wrapped in sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline.

But to you? He was something else.

Because it wasn’t just that he always seemed to be around. It wasn’t just that he knew things he shouldn’t.

It was the way he looked at you—like he was waiting for something.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

You tried to ignore it, brushing off the odd feelings, convincing yourself you were overthinking. But then the coincidences started becoming harder to ignore.

Like the time you were walking home late, your footsteps echoing against the empty streets, only to feel a presence behind you. You turned around—nothing. But the air felt heavier, like someone had been there just a second before. And when you finally made it home, locking the door behind you, your phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

"You shouldn’t walk alone this late."

Your heart had nearly stopped.

And then there was the time you were in the library, absentmindedly flipping through one of your favorite fantasy books. You barely noticed when someone sat across from you, but when you looked up, Sunghoon was already staring, his eyes scanning the page in front of you.

"You like stories like this?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was something else in it.

You hesitated. Why did it sound like he already knew the answer?

"Yeah," you replied cautiously. "Why? Do you?"

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I guess you could say I have some experience with stories like these."

You didn’t know what he meant. Not then.

But soon, you would.

And by then, it would be too late.

Because Sunghoon wasn’t just another student. And he wasn’t just another presence in your life.

He was something else.

You never usually went out at night alone.

Stories on the internet, headlines on the news—they had done a good job of making you paranoid. You weren’t careless. You always had a companion, always stuck to a group, or at the very least, made sure you were in a vehicle when heading home.

But tonight?

Tonight, you weren’t so fortunate.

You were alone.

Your phone was hanging on to life by a thread, the battery percentage blinking in warning. You were still a bit of a walk away from your place, the streets quieter than they should’ve been. It wasn’t that late, but late enough for the usual crowds to have disappeared, leaving behind only shadows stretching long beneath flickering streetlights.

The night had started off fine—you hadn’t even planned to drink much. Just a simple outing with friends, a way to destress. But things hadn’t gone as expected. An argument, some misunderstandings, people leaving in different directions. And now, here you were.

Alone.

You glanced down at your phone, debating whether to risk what little battery you had left and call an Uber. Or a friend. Or even your dormmate—anyone who could come pick you up.

Your fingers scrolled desperately through your contacts, trying to make the most of your dwindling charge. But in your frantic searching, you failed to notice something.

Somewhere between exiting the club and now, the usual crowd had faded. The sounds of laughter and music had dulled into silence. The familiar warmth of bodies brushing past you, the comfort of knowing you weren’t alone—gone.

And it was only when you finally looked up that you realized:

You had walked too far from the club.

The streets, once bustling with life, were now empty. The neon lights that had painted the sidewalk in warm hues felt dimmer, the distant hum of passing cars too far away to comfort you.

A strange chill ran down your spine.

Something felt wrong.

And then—

A presence.

You couldn’t see anyone. But you felt it. The undeniable weight of someone’s gaze pressing against you from the darkness. Watching.

Your breath caught in your throat as you gripped your phone tighter, your pulse beginning to race.

You weren’t alone anymore.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing.

Your fingers hovered over your phone screen, but suddenly, the numbers and names blurred together, your focus shifting elsewhere.

The air felt heavier. The kind of heaviness that wrapped around you like invisible hands, clawing at your nerves, making your skin prickle with unease. You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t see movement, but the feeling of being watched was unmistakable.

Slowly, carefully, you turned your head.

Nothing.

Just an empty sidewalk stretching into the distance, streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement, the only sound being the faint buzz of electricity.

Calm down. You were probably just imagining things. Your nerves were heightened because of the situation, your mind playing tricks on you.

Still, your gut told you to move.

Forcing yourself to shake off the paranoia, you tapped at your screen, pressing the contact of the first person you could think of. But before the call could even go through—

A sound.

Close.

Too close.

The distinct scrape of a shoe against concrete.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest.

You spun around—again, nothing. The alley beside you gaped like an open mouth, dark and endless, but you saw no one. No shadow, no figure lingering beneath the dim streetlights.

And yet, the feeling of someone watching you remained.

Your breathing grew uneven as panic clawed its way up your throat. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you shoved your phone into your pocket, your fingers trembling slightly. You didn’t care about it anymore—you just needed to move.

Now.

Your feet hit the pavement hard as you turned away, breaking into a hurried pace. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder, didn’t want to see if someone was there. The weight of an unseen gaze still clung to you, making your skin crawl, but you refused to stop.

You just had to get out of here.

The street stretched endlessly ahead, but it felt wrong. No people, no noise, just the emptiness pressing in from all sides. You swallowed hard, your breath coming in uneven gasps.

And then—

A whisper of movement. Not from behind this time.

From ahead.

Your instincts screamed at you to get on the main road. To disappear before whatever was watching you decided to make itself known.

Without thinking, you turned sharply into an alley, the dimly lit path offering an escape—except you didn’t get far.

Because the moment you rounded the corner, you slammed into someone.

Hard.

A gasp tore from your lips as your momentum sent you stumbling backward. But before you could hit the ground, strong hands caught you.

Your breath hitched.

The grip around your waist was firm, steady. And when you looked up, your heart nearly stopped.

Sunghoon.

His face was inches from yours, his cold, unreadable eyes locked onto you. The lights from the street barely reached the alley, casting shadows across his sharp features, but even in the dimness, he looked impossibly composed.

Like he had been waiting for you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You were too stunned, too caught off guard by the sudden closeness, the way his hands hadn’t let go yet.

And then, finally, he broke the silence.

"Why are you running?" His voice was quiet, smooth, like he already knew the answer.

Your throat felt dry. Your mind was still spinning from the lingering fear, from the thing you had felt watching you.

"I—" You swallowed. "I thought… someone was following me."

Sunghoon’s grip on you tightened just slightly before he exhaled, his expression unreadable.

"You’re not wrong."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"What—" you started, but he was already moving, already shifting his body just enough to glance over his shoulder. His gaze flickered toward the empty street behind you, his jaw tensing.

"You shouldn’t be out this late," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

And then his eyes met yours again.

"Come with me."

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

And somehow, you knew—refusing wasn’t an option.

Your body tensed. Every instinct screamed at you to question him, to demand an explanation, but the way Sunghoon looked at you—the way his gaze was sharp—made the words die in your throat.

"Come with me."

He wasn’t asking. And somehow, deep down, you knew he had a reason.

Your heart still hammered from the chase—or whatever that was. The feeling of being watched hadn’t disappeared, but standing here with Sunghoon, something shifted. It wasn’t gone, but it was different.

Like whoever—or whatever—had been following you wasn’t as eager to approach now that he was here.

Your breath caught. Did he know?

Sunghoon didn’t give you much time to think. His fingers tightened briefly around your wrist before he let go, turning on his heel.

"We need to move," he muttered, already walking.

You hesitated for half a second, but then another wave of unease crashed into you, the prickling sensation of a gaze making the hairs on your arms stand.

So you followed.

The alley stretched into a maze of turns and side streets, leading you farther from the club, farther from where you thought you should be. You tried to memorize the path, but Sunghoon moved too quickly, like he already knew exactly where to go.

"Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice hushed but urgent.

"Somewhere safer."

"Safer from what?"

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

You gritted your teeth, frustration creeping in. You had no idea why you were listening to him, why you were blindly following someone you barely knew through empty backstreets in the dead of night. But something about his presence, his certainty, kept you moving.

Eventually, he stopped in front of what looked like an old bookstore—one of those places you never really noticed, tucked between taller buildings, its windows dark and uninviting at this hour.

Sunghoon pulled open the door, glancing at you expectantly.

"Inside."

You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder. The street behind you was empty. Too empty.

Your fingers curled into fists as another cold shiver ran through you.

Whatever had been watching you earlier… it was still there.

Without another word, you stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and with it, the heavy feeling of being hunted finally lifted.

But when you turned to face Sunghoon, you found him watching you carefully, as if you were the mystery, searching for something beneath your skin that even you didn’t know was there.

"Where are we?" you pressed, stepping closer. "Where did you bring me"

But he didn’t answer.

His expression didn’t shift. He didn’t even look like he was considering responding. Instead, he simply turned away, his attention flickering toward the door, as if waiting.

Irritation bubbled up inside you. After everything—the fear, the chase, the unanswered questions—he was just going to ignore you?

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your arms as another chill ran down your spine.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to give you answers, you’d just figure things out yourself.

Your gaze wandered to the window. The streets outside were still. The emptiness from before hadn’t changed—no people, no movement, nothing but the glow of streetlights.

Had you imagined it? The feeling of being watched, of something lurking just beyond your sight?

Your fingers curled slightly as you turned back toward Sunghoon, ready to demand an answer again—

But he wasn’t there.

You blinked.

The space where he had been standing just moments ago was completely empty.

Your heart stuttered.

You whipped your head around, scanning the dark bookstore, expecting to see him a few steps away, maybe wandering between the bookshelves.

But there was nothing.

No sound.

No sign that he had moved.

Nothing.

Your pulse quickened. How? How had he disappeared so silently? The store wasn’t that big—you would’ve heard his footsteps, the creak of a floorboard, something.

And yet, he was just… gone.

A lump formed in your throat.

This was wrong.

This whole night had been wrong.

But before you could turn back toward the door, before you could even think about stepping outside, something inside you—something deep, something instinctual—shifted.

It wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t panic.

It was a pull. A whisper in your bones.

Move deeper into the store.

You hesitated, glancing toward the rows of bookshelves stretching into the dimly lit space. The deeper you looked, the darker it became, the light from the front windows barely reaching past the first few aisles.

Logic told you to leave.

But something else—something stronger—urged you forward.

And before you could stop yourself, your feet started moving.

Your steps echoed softly against the wooden floor as you moved past rows of towering bookshelves. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to turn around and run out of this cursed place. But your body? It refused to listen.

It was like you were being guided, dragged forward by some invisible thread pulling at your very soul.

Your breathing quickened as you passed worn-out seating areas and dusty reading nooks, the air growing heavier the deeper you went. You tried to force your feet to stop, but they kept moving, like you were trapped in a dream where no matter how hard you fought, you couldn’t wake up.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you rounded another corner, stepping into an aisle far darker than the rest, the towering shelves casting deep shadows that seemed to swallow everything whole.

Your footsteps slowed as you reached the end of the aisle, stepping into a section that felt… different.

The books lining the shelves weren’t like the others. Their spines were darker, older, some bound in cracked leather with gold lettering that had long since faded. And the titles...

Legends of the Undead. Bloodlines of the Eternal. The Shadowed Ones.

The supernatural.

Your breath hitched as you stepped closer, eyes scanning the books before a sudden thump echoed through the silence.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned toward the sound, your pulse hammering in your ears.

A book had fallen from one of the shelves, lying face up on the floor.

There was no draft, no reason for it to have moved.

And yet…

Something inside you whispered, urging you forward.

You swallowed hard but obeyed, stepping toward the book like you had no other choice.

The cover was worn, the edges tattered from age, but the image printed on it sent a strange chill through you.

A couple.

A woman with wide, longing eyes, and a man who stood behind her, holding her close. But his face—his features—were strikingly sharp. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, and draped over his shoulders was a dark, flowing cape.

And then, you saw them.

His teeth.

Sharp, glistening.

Fangs.

Your stomach twisted as your fingers unconsciously tightened around the book.

A vampire.

Swallowing the unease clawing at your throat, you quickly shoved the book onto the nearest shelf—definitely not the one it had fallen from, but you didn’t care. You just wanted it out of your hands.

Then, without a second glance, you turned on your heel and scuffled your way back toward the entrance, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

You wanted to leave.

Reaching the door, you grabbed the handle and twisted.

It didn’t budge.

Your breath hitched.

You tried again, jiggling it harder. Locked.

Your stomach dropped.

Fumbling, you checked for a latch, a keyhole—something. But nothing worked. The lock wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t shift, wouldn’t so much as budge.

Your chest tightened.

No. No, this wasn’t happening.

You peered outside, but the streets were just as empty as before. No cars, no distant figures, nothing but a dark, lifeless city.

Panic curled around your ribs as you pressed your forehead against the glass.

You were trapped.

A frustrated groan escaped you as you spun back toward the darkened bookstore.

"Sunghoon!" you called out, voice echoing between the shelves.

Silence.

Your throat felt dry as you called his name again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

He had to be here. He had to be.

He wouldn’t just leave you locked inside a bookstore all night… right?

"Sunghoon, where are you? This isn’t funny!"

No response.

Your fingers clenched into fists as you hesitantly stepped between the shelves, your voice growing more frantic each time you called Sunghoon’s name.

The silence was suffocating.

You peeked into one of the sections, your heartbeat drumming against your ribs. The air felt heavier here, like something unseen was pressing against your chest.

And then—

A cold breath ghosted over the back of your neck.

Your body went rigid.

The sensation was unmistakable—icy, deliberate, like someone was standing right behind you.

Your breath hitched as your entire body screamed at you to run. But when you turned around sharply—

Nothing.

No one.

The aisle was empty. Your paranoia spiked. Your mind raced with every horror scenario you’d ever read, every urban legend about being alone in places you weren’t supposed to be.

You had to get out.

"Sunghoon!" you shouted again, your voice echoing through the vast store.

And then—

A soft creak.

Your eyes snapped to the left, where a door—one you were certain hadn’t been there before—slowly swung open.

A dark figure stepped out.

Sunghoon.

He looked… perfectly normal. Calm, even.

His dark eyes met yours, and his lips curled into a small, amused smile.

"There you are," he said casually, as if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

For a second, you just stared, your mind struggling to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. He had just appeared from a hidden door like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your initial shock quickly turned into anger.

"Are you kidding me?!" you snapped, stepping toward him. "You left me alone in here! The door is locked, and I—" Before you could finish, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

Gently.

Yet firmly enough that it sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "This way."

Without waiting for your response, he led you through the mysterious doorway.

The second you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

It was another section of the bookstore—except this one felt different.

The air was filled with the scent of old parchment and something faintly metallic. The books here looked ancient, their bindings cracked with age, their pages yellowed and fragile.

This place… it felt untouched. Hidden. Like a secret only a select few were meant to see.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to Sunghoon.

"What is this place?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"The literary section," he answered simply.

Your steps felt heavy as Sunghoon led you through, then without saying much, he stopped in front of an old door, pulling out a small pair of keys from his pocket. The metallic click echoed in the silence as he unlocked it.

You expected to find another dark corridor, or maybe some secret, ancient room filled with more strange books.

But instead…

It led to the outside.

The cold night air hit your face as you stepped out, blinking in confusion. You turned around, watching Sunghoon lock the door behind you.

What even was that place? And how did he know about it?

Before you could ask, Sunghoon gently nudged you toward a sleek black car parked nearby.

"Come on. I’ll drive you home. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone," he said, his tone calm yet strangely... protective.

Your mind was spinning, struggling to process what had just happened. You barely noticed as Sunghoon opened the passenger door for you, guiding you inside before slipping into the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t until the engine roared to life, and the car began smoothly gliding through the empty streets, that you finally snapped out of whatever trance you’d been in.

"Wait, wait, wait," you blurted out, turning to him with wide eyes. "What the hell just happened back there? What was that place? And why do you have the keys to some creepy store that—"

"Calm down," Sunghoon interrupted, glancing at you with that same unreadable expression. "I told you, it’s a bookstore. A safe space."

Your eyes narrowed.

"And what does that even mean? How do you know about it? Why were you even there?"

Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle, as if your panic amused him. "You ask too many questions."

You scoffed. "Because none of this makes sense!"

He glanced at you again before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Some things aren’t meant to make sense."

That only made your frustration grow.

"You’re seriously not gonna explain anything?"

Sunghoon smirked faintly. "I probably just saved you from some creep. You could at least say thank you."

You stared at him in disbelief.

He was avoiding your questions. Clearly.

But the way he spoke… it was like he knew something. Something you weren’t supposed to know.

Who exactly was Park Sunghoon?

The rest of the car ride was filled with silence. The streets blurred past the window as you watched the empty city, but your mind was stuck on Sunghoon.

You stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His face was calm, as if none of what just happened was strange at all.

"You’re really not going to tell me anything, are you?" you muttered, breaking the silence.

"Would you even believe me if I did?"

Your brows furrowed. "Try me."

He let out a soft chuckle, but didn’t answer.

Frustration bubbled in your chest, but at the same time...

There was something about him that made your heart race in a way you couldn't explain.

You barely knew this guy, yet it felt like he was pulling you into something that you could not comprehend.

And the scariest part?

A part of you... wanted to know more.

Before you knew it, the car slowed down in front of your dorm.

Sunghoon put the car in park and turned to you. His gaze softened slightly as he spoke,

"Get some rest. It's late."

You hesitated, unsure whether to step out or demand more answers. But something about the way he looked at you left you speechless.

With a sigh, you reached for the door handle and stepped out.

But just as you were about to close the door, Sunghoon’s voice stopped you.

"Sweet dreams."

Your breath hitched as you turned to face him, as he only gave you a small, knowing smile before driving off into the darkness.

You stood there, watching the taillights disappear into the night, your heart pounding in your chest.

What the hell just happened?

Sunghoon was always composed. Always. His life had been shaped by discipline, by the strict standards of his legacy, a lineage built on elegance, refinement, and control. His every move, every glance, was carefully calculated. His desires? Contained.

Except for now.

Now, as his eyes flickered over to you across the classroom, something was breaking inside him. Something he couldn’t control.

You.

You, sitting there, so effortlessly beautiful, your presence radiating something he couldn’t ignore. Something he couldn’t bury, no matter how hard he tried.

You were tempting. The way your hair fell over your shoulder, the curve of your lips as you smiled at your friend, the soft laugh that escaped you when something amused you. It was all too much. And as your scent teased the edges of his senses, it became overwhelming.

He had been keeping his distance, maintaining control, but now—now—it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

One sip. One taste.

He could already imagine it: your blood, sweet and intoxicating, flowing as he licked it from your skin, savoring every drop as if it were the finest nectar.

He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, trying to suppress the need that burned within him.

You were special.

He had always known it. There was something about you, something different that called to him in ways he couldn’t explain. Something about your blood—it was made for him.

One taste and he would be hooked, he knew it. The craving had only grown since the moment he first laid eyes on you, and now it clawed at him from within.

His fingers dug into the side of the table, the wood creaking under the pressure of his grip.

You were a forbidden fruit, and resisting you was a battle he wasn’t sure how much longer he could win.

His gaze flickered back to you, and his heart clenched, a familiar hunger coiling deep within him.

Oh, how he craved you.

The sound of the classroom around him faded as his attention remained fixated on you, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t control. He tried to focus on the lesson, tried to pay attention to the teacher’s voice droning on, but it was useless. All he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse, the quickened rhythm that matched the beat of his desires.

You shifted in your seat, and it was like a jolt to his senses. His eyes followed the movement, the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped lightly on the desk. Each little thing you did, each breath you took, only deepened the ache inside him. It was all too much, and his restraint—once ironclad—was beginning to feel fragile, delicate, like it could snap at any moment.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore; he was losing himself.

I can’t do this, he thought desperately, his grip tightening on the table. But it was futile. The desire was too strong, too consuming.

One sip.

Just one.

He could already taste it—the sweetness, the richness that he knew would flood his senses. He needed it. And if he didn’t get it—he didn’t know what would happen.

His fingers dug deeper into the table, the wood now splintering under the pressure of his growing need. His eyes narrowed as he tried to compose himself. But the more he stared at you, the more the temptation grew.

Control, Sunghoon. You have to keep control.

His entire being screamed for him to act, to close the distance between you two and finally claim what he so desperately wanted. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

The bell rang, shattering the tension, and students began to gather their things, but Sunghoon stayed rooted in place, his eyes never leaving you.

You stood, gathering your bag, oblivious to the storm that raged inside him.

He tried to steady himself, fighting against the instinct that begged him to step forward, to take you, to make you his.

But he stayed still, watching you walk out of the room with every ounce of restraint he had left.

Not yet.

Okay, you were officially convinced Sunghoon was a weirdo. After that night in the bookstore, it was like he had some sort of uncanny ability to appear wherever you went. He was always there—just lurking.

And it didn’t stop there. You started seeing him in your dreams. How? You had no clue. All you knew was that those dreams were way too personal to even think about, let alone talk to anyone about. There was something intensely wrong—and yet strangely captivating—about them. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you were afraid of him, or if you were afraid of what you might feel about him if you let yourself admit it.

So you did what you thought was the logical thing. You avoided him. At all costs.

You tried to keep your distance—barely acknowledging his presence when you passed him, pretending you didn't notice when his gaze lingered too long. But that was when things got worse.

The more you tried to avoid him, the more he seemed to indulge in it. It was like he enjoyed watching you squirm, like he was learning everything there was to know about you with every passing second. You could feel his eyes on you—always.

Every time you saw him, his stare was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just a passing glance. No, it was like his eyes zeroed in on you—completely and utterly fixed, like he was searching you. Every time your paths crossed, he didn’t just look at you. He studied you, like he could see something no one else could. His gaze didn’t break, didn’t waver, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of you, every movement you made.

It was maddening.

There was no subtlety to it—his stare was intense in a way you couldn’t explain. It felt like his gaze was undressing your soul, pulling at the parts of you that you didn’t want anyone to see. It was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe when he looked at you like that, as though you were a piece of prey and he was waiting for the right moment to claim you.

You tried to look away, to avoid his gaze, but it felt like you were trapped under his spell. It made your skin crawl, your heart race. And for some reason, you hated the way your body responded to it. How your mind kept spiraling into the thoughts you desperately wanted to avoid.

What the hell was he doing to you?

He was becoming unbearable to ignore, but you really couldn’t do much with him around. It was like he was everywhere.

Around campus. Around the dorms. At the local cafe you frequented. And worst of all, he was in your dreams, invading your nights in ways that left you breathless and disoriented by morning. Every time you woke up, it took everything in you not to curl up and hide from everything in shame.

You were going insane, weren't you? You tried to tell yourself it was just a phase, just some weird, creepy obsession you could shake off. After all, it was easy to dismiss someone like Sunghoon, right? He was weird, and you had every reason to avoid him. But somewhere, somehow, that strategy had backfired.

The worst part?

You didn’t mind it.

At some point, your mind had started craving his attention. The same attention that used to send chills down your spine, that once made your heart race with dread, now made your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. You started looking for it, hunting for those moments when his gaze would fall on you again, when his eyes would lock with yours across the room or across the street.

And every time it happened, you felt it—this rush of something deep inside you, something almost giddy.

Like you were waiting for it.

And every time it happened—when his eyes found you, when he was close enough that you could feel him but not quite touch him—you couldn’t deny it. Something in you lit up.

You hated it, but you couldn't stop it. It was like you were addicted to it, to him. His attention became a drug you didn’t know how to quit.

Because of these dreams, you hadn’t been sleeping well at all. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, your body slick with sweat, your heart pounding like a drum. The sheets would be tangled around you as you gasped for air, your breath uneven and shallow, the images from your dreams still haunting the edges of your mind.

Every time you woke up like that, you’d look around your dark bedroom, feeling an overwhelming sense of being watched. The feeling would crawl up your spine, creeping into your thoughts until you were certain someone was lurking just beyond the edge of your vision. But when you flicked on the bedside lamp, the room was always empty. Just you. Alone.

Still, the feeling never truly left. It lingered in the corners of the room, under the bed, in the darkened space between your dresser and the wall.

It was always the same. Every night. The dreams. The shame. The emptiness that followed you as you tried to settle back into sleep, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it off. It had become a cycle, one that was slowly unraveling your sanity.

And it started to show on you.

You could feel it in your body—your mind was exhausted, and it was taking a toll. You’d fall asleep in the middle of class, your head dropping onto the desk as you fought to stay awake, but failing miserably. Or during lunch, when you would try to sip at your coffee, but your eyelids would feel too heavy to keep open.

But those naps never lasted long.

You’d wake up suddenly, the whispers of your dreams still clinging to you, leaving you disoriented and groggy. Sometimes, you would even jolt awake, your body trembling as if you had been running or fighting for your life. And every time you opened your eyes, you’d be met with the same mundane reality.

It was driving you mad.

You wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop. But it was like a chain around your neck, one you couldn’t remove no matter how hard you tried. The pull of Sunghoon’s attention, the lure of his eyes - it was suffocating you.

But it seemed like Sunghoon's presence was messing with more than just your sleep. The effects were trickling into other parts of your life, too.

The little nap accidents during classes? They were starting to catch up to you. You were behind on your work, falling behind on assignments, and you could feel your grades slipping further and further away. The last assignment had been a disaster, and your professor had been kind enough to give you a second chance, offering extra bonus work to help make up for it.

So there you were, sitting at the local café, long past your usual hours. The light above your table flickered slightly as you typed away, hunched over your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. You knew you had to get it done. You had to show your professor you could pull yourself together, that you were still capable of doing this.

But the longer you sat there, the harder it was to ignore how exhausted you felt. Every line you typed seemed to blur, your thoughts fragmented, the constant hum of the café around you mixing with the dull throb in your skull. Even the smell of coffee no longer held its usual comfort—it just made you feel sick to your stomach.

And yet, you kept pushing through it, knowing that if you didn’t finish tonight, you’d only get further behind.

By the time you finally wrapped up the work and rushed to submit it, the café was closing. The lights were dimming, and the staff were tidying up, cleaning tables and stacking chairs as they prepared to lock the doors for the night. You barely noticed as you walked out, your mind focused solely on the task you had completed, the slight relief of being done with it for now.

The sky had darkened while you worked, the deep blue stretching across the horizon, stars barely visible against the faint glow of the city lights. The streets were quieter now, the hum of cars and chatter from nearby shops muted.

You could feel the cool night air biting at your skin as you walked. And as you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, you became busy scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from everything.

But then, you heard it.

A sound—disgusting and wrong. A wet, slurping noise, like a dog drinking from a bowl. Only it wasn’t right. It was too sickening, too unnatural.

Your feet stopped moving before you could think. You hadn’t meant to, but your body had reacted on its own. Your eyes darted towards the dark alleyway ahead, and the sound was louder now, almost suffocating. A gut-wrenching instinct told you to keep walking, but something inside you refused. Something dark and curious tugged you closer.

Despite every ounce of your being screaming to leave, you did the one thing you shouldn’t have: you turned on the flashlight of your phone and pointed it into the alley.

Instantly, you regretted it.

The beam of light cut through the shadows just enough to reveal the nightmare you had walked into.

A woman lay on the ground, her body limp and lifeless, eyes wide open and white, her skin a sickly shade of pale. Her blood… it coated the ground around her in a dark pool, soaking into the cracked pavement. And beside her, bending over her body, was a man.

The man… was feeding on her.

He was hunched over her, his face a mess of blood, his mouth smeared with the crimson liquid as he drank from her throat. The wet sounds filled your ears, but what made your blood run cold wasn’t just the act—it was his eyes.

He looked at you.

His eyes were red. Red as the blood he was drinking.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled back, instinctively trying to move away, but your feet wouldn’t obey. You were frozen, your body rigid with terror.

Then, as if to drive the horror deeper, he parted from the woman’s mangled neck. The blood dripped from his jaw, splattering to the ground, and he slowly, deliberately, ran his tongue over the blood that covered his lips. His tongue was long, unnaturally long, and as he licked the blood, you saw it—

Fangs.

Oh no.

The world spun around you. Your pulse raced as your body screamed at you to run, to escape, but your legs were frozen in place. Every part of you was screaming in panic, but it felt like you were drowning in fear, unable to move.

And in that moment, you were certain of two things.

One, this wasn’t a man.

Two, you were his next meal.

The man’s red eyes never left you as he slowly rose from the woman’s lifeless body, blood still dripping from his chin. He straightened himself, his movements slow, as if savoring the moment. You felt the chill of terror crawl up your spine, your entire body locked in place as you tried to find your voice.

His lips curled into a sinister, satisfied smile, revealing the sharp fangs that glistened under the dim light.

“You…” he murmured, his voice smooth and dark, laced with hunger. “You smell… so delicious.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling, as his gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was as if he could see straight into your soul, and his words sent a cold wave of dread over you.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he continued, taking a step closer, his eyes scanning you as if assessing you. “It’s racing. Thumping so hard, so fast. It’s music to my ears. The way it echoes in your chest… it’s irresistible.”

Your knees felt weak, but you still couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear and the unnatural intensity of his gaze.

“You are a special one,” he whispered, his voice low and intoxicating. “I can see it. Your blood… It will be more delicious than hers. More… rich. I can already taste it in the air.”

You wanted to scream, to run, but the words didn’t come. All you could do was watch as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

“I’ll take every drop from you,” he whispered, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “Every. Last. One. You won’t be left with a single drop.”

With that, he discarded the woman’s body carelessly, the limp form slumping to the ground with a sickening thud. She was nothing to him now—just a hollow shell. His attention was entirely focused on you now.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight.

His steps grew louder, closer, and all you could do was tremble, hoping for some miracle, some way out of this nightmare.

And before you could even process what was happening, a blur of movement shot past you, fast as lightning.

The vampire-man let out an animalistic snarl, his head snapping toward the figure that was attacking him. For a moment, you couldn’t see clearly. It was as though the air around you had thickened, time slowing down. The shadowy figure collided with the vampire, and they tumbled to the ground in a flurry of motion. You could hear the sounds of a vicious struggle, but all you could do was stand there, frozen in fear, completely caught off guard.

In the chaos, your phone slipped from your trembling hand and clattered to the cold ground. You scrambled to pick it up, eyes glued to the scene unfolding before you. The vampire-man hissed, but the figure didn’t back down.

The hissing grew louder, more frenzied. The air seemed to crackle with tension as the vampire-man struggled beneath his attacker.

You couldn’t stay there any longer.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your instincts screamed at you to run, to get away before you became the next target. Your legs felt like jelly as you backed up, tripping over your own feet and tumbling away. You were shaking, the fear gripping you tighter with every step.

A voice—low, urgent—whispered in your mind.

Run. Now.

And that was all you needed to hear. You didn’t need any more encouragement. With everything in you, you bolted, sprinting down the empty street, the sound of your heavy breathing drowned out by the roar of blood rushing in your ears.

You didn’t dare look back.

Not until you reached the safety of the main road, where you collapsed against a lamppost, gasping for air, eyes darting around the empty roads.

What just happened?

Okay, you did not believe in vampires. At all. Count Dracula, Count Orlok, Bram Stoker—everything was just fiction. Fantasy. The stuff of stories, movies, and nightmares.

But what you saw last night? That… you knew it wasn’t some wild hallucination. There was no way your mind could have conjured something so real, so grotesque. You felt it—every instinct screamed that what you witnessed was not just some twisted dream. And you knew that too, because when you returned to the alley the next day, the woman's body was gone.

But the blood—the blood was unmistakable. Streaks of it still marred the ground, dark and congealing under the harsh light of the morning sun. It was a dead giveaway.

Your stomach twisted as you crouched down to get a better look, staring at the stain on the pavement. No body. Just the unmistakable remnants of what had happened.

You wanted to go to the police. Hell, part of you felt like you had to—because this was serious. Someone had been murdered, right there in that alley. You could almost hear the sirens, see the flashing lights of the patrol cars, the officers coming in to take statements, investigate.

But then something in you hesitated.

Would they even believe you? You were certain they’d just look at you like you were crazy. A paranoid college student, half asleep, imagining things. They’d probably tell you it was some late-night prank or a random street fight gone wrong or even accuse you for taking drugs. And what could you possibly say? “I saw a man with red eyes and fangs, drinking the blood of a woman in an alley”?

You winced at the thought. It sounded insane even to you.

What if it was just… something else? Some twisted person? But even then, the red eyes? And the fangs? That didn’t make sense. Not in a world you knew.

So, instead of making the call you needed to, you backed away from the alley, stood there for a moment, staring at the bloodstain on the ground as your heart raced.

Your mind was a proper mess.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore. You had to do something, anything, to make sense of what had happened. So you did what you had to do—you investigated. And you knew where to start.

After classes, you didn’t go straight to your dorm. Instead, you found yourself heading toward the bookstore—the same one Sunghoon had taken you to that one night. There was something about that place, something that made you feel certain that the answers would be there, tucked away among the pages.

As you pushed open the door to the bookstore, the familiar scent of old paper and dust enveloped you. The bell above the door jingled softly, and you were greeted by the sound of a old woman behind the counter, softly snoring, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. You looked at her for a moment, but quickly moved past, not wanting to wake her up.

The store was quiet, with only a few customers scattered around. A woman sat in a chair near the back, completely engrossed in a romance novel—so much so that she probably hadn’t noticed you enter. A man stood near the science section, holding a stack of books, flipping through one, while another man was sorting through books, likely an employee.

But none of them mattered.

You knew exactly where you needed to go, and it didn’t take long for your eyes to find the familiar shelf. You scanned the titles, your pulse quickening as you spotted it. There it was—the same book. You almost let out a small, victorious sound as your fingers closed around it, pulling it free from between two other books.

As your fingers traced the familiar cover, that familiar sense of fascination stirred in your chest. You glanced around the shop, making sure no one was paying you any attention, before you carefully flipped it open.

You opened the book, expecting to find answers—maybe facts, some history, or even some sort of guide that could help explain what you had seen that night. But instead, you were met with something entirely different.

It wasn’t what you had imagined at all.

The first page was full of elegant prose, describing a vampire's longing for the taste of a mortal’s blood, how the scent alone would send him into a frenzy. The words were written with such intensity, each line dripping with yearning, and you couldn’t help but feel an unexpected heat rise in your cheeks as you read on.

The story was not a factual account or even a mythological tale; no, this was a love story. A sensual love story about a vampire and his human. The lines were filled with descriptions of blood—how the vampire wanted sink his fangs into his lovers delicate skin and drink.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you flipped through more pages, the story growing more heated. You felt as if you were intruding on something private. Something you should not be reading. But you couldn’t stop. You were drawn in, unable to turn away.

You felt your breath quicken, and in the back of your mind, a voice warned you that you were treading too close to something dangerous. This book wasn’t just telling a story—it was shaping something in you. Something you didn’t want to face just yet.

You slammed the book shut, heart pounding in your chest, as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. The words on the pages still lingered in your mind, their heat echoing through your thoughts. But before you could shake the feeling off, a voice broke through the haze.

"Can I help you with something?"

You whipped around, startled, to see the man you had noticed earlier—the one sorting through books. He had a gentle yet curious expression, his eyes scanning you as though he were waiting for an answer.

You took a slow breath, trying to calm yourself. "No, thank you. I’m just looking."

He nodded, accepting your answer, but then turned to leave. However, before he could walk away, he glanced back over his shoulder, his voice low.

"If you're looking for something more… to your taste, there’s a literary room in the back," he said, his gaze flicking towards a door. "It's where we keep the rarer collections. The kind of books you might find interesting."

Your stomach dropped at the mention of the door, the memory of that night when Sunghoon had led you through it coming back like a rush of cold water. You quickly glanced at the door, unease crawling up your spine.

"Thank you," you managed, offering a tight smile.

He gave you a nod, before walking away.

You waited until the man disappeared into the next aisle before making your move. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, you slipped toward the familiar door. Your heart pounded as you grasped the handle and slowly pushed it open, squeezing through the narrow gap and quietly closing it behind you.

You wasted no time, scanning the shelves for anything that would point you toward what you were looking for.

"Vampires... vampires..." you whispered to yourself as your fingers traced the spines of the worn books.

Minutes passed, and you found yourself with three books in your arms, each one titled with something related to the creatures of the night.

"The Blood Covenant: Tales of the Immortal"

"Nocturnal Desires: The History of the Nightwalkers"

"Marked by the Moon: The Forbidden Bond"

Your hands tightened around them as you glanced back toward the door. You still had the original book you’d found, making it a total of four. The unsettling feeling in your gut only grew stronger, but so did your curiosity.

What were you even hoping to find? Proof that what you saw in the alleyway wasn’t a hallucination? Or maybe... something that could explain Sunghoon and the strange pull he seemed to have over you?

Taking a shaky breath, you turned toward one of the small, round tables tucked between the shelves and set the books down. You hesitated for a moment before flipping open the first one.

As your eyes skimmed the pages, the words seemed to bleed into your mind, descriptions of ancient creatures who thrived in the shadows, who fed on human blood, who could manipulate and lure their prey with nothing more than a glance.

Your pulse quickened.

Because with every word you read, you realized...

It all sounded too much like Sunghoon.

Of course, it was only a hunch, a theory. Because in reality, vampires shouldn’t exist in this timeline... right? So he could not possibly be..

But there was never any solid proof that they didn’t.

And if the legends were true, vampires could live for hundreds of years. What if... this was one of those rare cases?

You shook your head, pushing the thought aside as you continued skimming through the books. Your eyes scanned the pages, absorbing every detail about ancient rituals, feeding habits, and the hypnotic allure that vampires possessed.

Time slipped away from you faster than you realized, and when you finally glanced at your watch, your eyes widened.

You were here way too long.

Quickly gathering the books in your arms, you slipped out of the room and made your way to the counter. The old woman, now wide awake, adjusted her glasses as she scanned the books one by one. The employee from earlier stood nearby, watching you with mild curiosity.

You paid for the books without much thought, too eager to get out of the shop and back to your dorm to properly dig through what you'd found.

As you turned to leave, the soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the quiet shop, and you stepped out into the streets.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the sneaky glance that passed between the old woman and the employee as you walked away with a bag full of vampire books.

Almost as if... they knew.

It wasn’t that dark outside, but the streets were quiet enough to make you uneasy. The streetlights barely illuminated the cracks in the pavement as you hurried along, clutching the bag of books tightly to your chest.

Your mind was racing with everything you'd read. The idea of vampires living among humans sounded absurd, but after what you'd seen in that alley...

You shook the thought away and picked up your pace.

What you failed to notice, however, was the shadow trailing behind you.

Silent footsteps echoed yours, perfectly in sync. Whoever it was, they were keeping a careful distance, blending into the dimly lit streets like a predator stalking its prey.

You turned a corner, the familiar sight of your dorm building coming into view, and felt a small wave of relief wash over you. Almost there.

But that relief was short-lived as you barely had time to react.

A cold, calloused hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the scream that tried to escape your throat. You were yanked backward, dragged effortlessly into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you thrashed against the grip, eyes wide and frantic as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when you saw him.

The man had eyes that glowed a deep, sinister red, and when he parted his lips, you saw them.

Fangs.

Sharp. Deadly. Hungering.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

This wasn’t like the scenes from the book. There was no heat pooling in your stomach, no fluttering anticipation.

No, this was wrong.

The fear that coursed through your veins was paralyzing. Your body instinctively fought against him, twisting and struggling with every ounce of strength you could muster — but it was useless.

He was far too strong.

And the worst part?

You could feel it.

The way his cold lips brushed against your skin. The way he inhaled deeply, savoring your scent.

"You smell... divine," he murmured, voice dark and sickly sweet. "So much sweeter than any other human."

Your eyes burned with tears as you squirmed, panic clouding your mind.

He wasn’t going to stop.

He wasn’t going to spare you.

He would drain you dry, leave your lifeless body to rot in this alley, and move on to his next victim without a second thought.

No.

No, you couldn’t let that happen.

Your body moved on instinct as you kicked, elbowed, and clawed at him with everything you had. Your nails scraped against his face, but it was like scratching against stone.

“Stop—” you tried to scream against his hand, your voice muffled and desperate.

But he only chuckled darkly.

"Fight all you want," he sneered. "It only makes your blood taste better."

You felt the sharp point of his fangs press against your neck.

A wave of terror surged through you, and you writhed harder, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you fought tooth and nail to keep those fangs from piercing your skin.

But he was too strong.

You felt yourself slipping, your strength fading...

But before the vampire could sink his teeth in a blur of movement flashed before you, and suddenly the vampire was ripped away from you with inhuman force. You gasped for air as you saw the creature that had been about to kill you now pinned against the alley wall.

And the one who had saved you?

Sunghoon.

His eyes glowed a deep crimson, darker than the other vampire’s, and his fangs were fully bared as he snarled. “You dare touch what’s mine?” Sunghoon’s voice was dangerous, filled with a venom that sent chills down your spine.

The other vampire let out a guttural snarl, his eyes burning with rage as he lunged back at Sunghoon, claws out and fangs bared.

Sunghoon met him head-on, moving with inhuman speed as their bodies clashed. You stumbled back against the cold brick wall, heart hammering as you watched them move like shadows, too fast for your eyes to fully follow.

The sound of hissing and grunting echoed through the alley as Sunghoon drove his knee into the other vampire’s ribs, sending him crashing to the ground. But the creature didn’t stay down for long, leaping back up with blood dripping from his mouth and launching himself at Sunghoon once more.

Sunghoon caught him mid-air, slamming him against the wall with brutal force. The concrete cracked beneath the impact, and the other vampire let out a strangled cry as Sunghoon's grip tightened around his throat.

“Pathetic,” Sunghoon spat, his fangs glistening as he bared them.

The other vampire hissed, struggling against Sunghoon's hold, but he was clearly weaker.

Sunghoon twisted his arm, snapping bone as the creature howled in agony. Yet, even through the pain, the other vampire’s eyes flicked to you — hunger and desperation burning within them.

That only seemed to enrage Sunghoon further.

With a violent shove, Sunghoon threw the vampire to the ground, sending him skidding across the blood-stained pavement.

“Leave,” Sunghoon growled, his voice low and deadly. “Before I tear you apart.”

The other vampire coughed, blood dripping from his lips as he slowly scrambled to his feet, eyes narrowing at Sunghoon, before turning and disappearing into the shadows, limping and defeated.

You stood there, frozen in shock as the alley fell silent once more.

Sunghoon stood still in the dim light, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his hair a mess and his clothes stained with a little blood. His fists remained clenched at his sides, the tension still radiating off him as his eyes remained fixed on the darkness where the other vampire had fled.

It was only when he turned to face you that you realized your legs felt weak, the adrenaline leaving your body as reality crashed down on you. Your legs gave out beneath you, but before you could hit the cold pavement, strong arms caught you.

Sunghoon was there, moving with inhuman speed as he wrapped an arm around your waist and steadied you against him. His grip was firm yet gentle, like he was afraid you might shatter in his hold.

"Easy," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Your hands instinctively clutched at the front of his shirt. Your breathing was ragged, your heart racing in your chest as the weight of everything you had just witnessed pressed down on you.

"You... you're really...," your voice trembled as you tried to form the words.

"A vampire," Sunghoon finished for you, his dark eyes watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction.

You couldn't speak, your mind spinning with fear, confusion, and something dark and magnetic that drew you closer to him.

"I wasn't supposed to get involved," Sunghoon admitted, his gaze falling for a moment. "But when I saw him touch you, I couldn’t... I wouldn’t let him take what’s mine."

Your breath hitched at his words.

Sunghoon’s hand moved to gently cup the back of your head, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his eyes.

You wanted to push him away, to run as far as you could from whatever dark world you’d stumbled into. But your body refused to move. Instead, you leaned into him, your heart betraying your fear as it pounded relentlessly against your ribs.

"What... what happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon’s eyes darkened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he leaned in closer. "Now you stay with me," he whispered, his voice low. "I’ll keep you safe."

You opened your mouth to question, but before you could, his lips brushed over yours—a soft, slow kiss that was strangely gentle.

Your body froze, the kiss a shock that sent heat pooling in your stomach. The feel of Sunghoon’s lips, the dizzying sensation of his touch—it all became too much, too overwhelming. Your breath hitched as his grip on your neck tightened, not in a way that hurt, but in a way that made it clear he wasn’t letting go.

Your hands instinctively clutched at his arms, trying to ground yourself, to steady the rapid pounding of your heart.

Then, as if sensing your sudden hesitation, Sunghoon loosened his hold ever so slightly. His lips parted from yours just enough for you to catch your breath, his eyes searching yours. They weren’t glowing like before, but they still held an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice softer now. His thumb traced over your jawline in a slow, almost soothing motion. “Are you afraid of me?”

You swallowed thickly, unsure of how to answer. Were you afraid of him? The logical part of your mind screamed yes, you should be terrified. You had just been attacked, just seen something straight out of a nightmare. And yet, standing here in his arms, fear wasn’t what was keeping you frozen in place.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against your cheek as he let out a slow exhale. “I’ll take you home,” he said after a moment, his voice gentle. “You need sleep.”

You should have protested, but the exhaustion in your body made it impossible to argue.

Sunghoon didn't let go of you as he led you toward the street, keeping his arm firmly around your waist as if he expected you to collapse at any moment.

Your steps felt heavy as you leaned more into Sunghoon’s side, your body weak and trembling. With every step, you could feel his body against yours, and it made your head spin. Being this close to him, his scent filling your senses, his arm wrapped tightly around you — it felt dangerous.

You risked a glance up at him, only to find Sunghoon’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes fixed ahead. He looked tense, almost strained, like he was fighting some inner battle.

Was it because of what just happened? Or... was it because of you?

Your breath hitched when his grip on your waist tightened for a moment, his fingers pressing into your side as if grounding himself.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, barely able to form words through the haze clouding your mind.

His eyes flickered to you, and for a brief second, they glowed that same deep crimson from before.

You felt your stomach drop.

He quickly looked away, jaw tightening even more as he swallowed thickly.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, voice strained.

“Like... what?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“Like you want me to lose control.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t know what Sunghoon was holding back, but whatever it was... you wanted him to break. "I-I don't…" you tried to deny it, but the way your body leaned into him, the way your eyes kept drifting to his lips, told a different story.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you'd slip away.

"You don't get it," he whispered, his voice strained. "I’m not… myself. Not around you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"But you keep coming around me," you murmured. "Why?"

He let out a bitter chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you. "Because I can't stay away," he admitted, his gaze burning. "Your scent, your blood… everything about you calls to me."

Your breath hitched.

This wasn’t normal. None of this was. Yet, here you were, walking through the streets with a man who quite literally fought off another creature of the night to protect you. And now, he was saying things that sent shivers down your spine — things that should terrify you… but instead, they pulled you in deeper.

You were already too far gone.

Before you could respond, your knees buckled slightly, your body still weak from everything that had happened. Sunghoon caught you effortlessly, pulling you closer to him. His strength reminded you once again that he wasn’t human.

"Come on, let's get you back," he muttered, his voice softer now as he contiouned guided you through the empty streets.

The world around you felt hazy, your mind clouded with too many questions, too many feelings. But one thing was clear — Sunghoon was dangerous. But you couldn’t help but want to know more.

More about him.

More about the darkness he was hiding.

You wanted to know what it felt like to make him lose control.

You were dangerous — too dangerous for Sunghoon.

After that night, when the truth of what he was had unraveled before your eyes, he tried to stay away. He gave you space, expecting you to react like any human would — fear, anger, or maybe the desire to drive a wooden stake through his heart.

But you didn’t.

On the surface, you acted like everything was normal. You went to class, hung out with your friends, and lived your life as if the darkness that lurked beneath the world you knew hadn’t brushed against you.

But Sunghoon could feel you.

He felt the way your heart beat faster whenever he was near. The way your breath hitched when his gaze lingered on you for too long. The way your body, your soul, seemed to call for him, even when your mind tried to resist.

And it pleased him.

Because your body already knew what you refused to admit — that you belonged to him.

He didn’t need to chase you. He didn’t need to lure you in with empty promises or sweet words. No, Sunghoon knew it was only a matter of time before you came to him.

After all, he had chosen you as his human lover.

No.

Claimed.

But it seemed like his fellow brethren of the night did not get the memo.

He felt the lingering stares from strangers in dark corners, shadows that seemed to follow you no matter where you went, even when you were not alone.

Cause they could smell you.

The way your blood called to them, sweet and irresistible. The fact that Sunghoon had laid claim to you only made it worse. Because now, you were not just a measly human.

You were marked.

And vampires were drawn to what they couldn’t have.

It was driving Sunghoon insane.

Every night, he could sense them lurking nearby, watching you with hungry eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And every night, he fought the urge to rip them apart.

Because if they dared touch what was his...

There would be no mercy.

Yet, the thought of scaring you, of pushing you further away, held him back.

So, instead, he followed you from the shadows, protecting you from the monsters that hid in the darkness.

You didn’t know it yet, but the only reason you were still breathing was because Park Sunghoon had already decided that you were his.

Forever.

You were struggling.

Every day that went by where Sunghoon acted like you didn’t exist made something in you shrivel and cry.

You wanted his attention. But at the same time, you didn’t.

Because this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? For him to stay away from you?

But that was back when you thought he was just some weirdo lurking around campus. Well, you still did. But now, he was a handsome weirdo. And more importantly—a handsome weirdo who could snap your neck effortlessly if he wanted to.

That should have been enough to keep you away. It should have made you relieved that he was ignoring you.

But it didn’t.

Instead, it made your chest ache, made your fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him, made your mind spiral every time you caught a glimpse of him in the distance.

Because no matter how much he tried to pretend you didn’t exist, you could feel it.

His gaze.

He was still watching you.

Still lurking in the shadows.

Still waiting.

And despite every logical thought in your mind screaming at you to run... You wanted him to come back.

You wanted him to come back to you.

To hold you.

To kiss you.

To bite you.

And that insane thought? It all stemmed from that stupid vampire romance book you kept hidden under your pillow.

It really wasn’t your fault.

The words in that book were too tempting, too dark, too lustful.

The idea of something ancient and supernatural desiring a mere human woman with such obsession, such hunger...

It sent shivers down your spine when you’d read the vampire’s point of view—how he’d describe his love, his yearning, his absolute need to have her, to consume her in every way possible.

It made your heart race.

It made your body ache.

And it made you realize...

That was the kind of love you’d craved all your life.

Something dangerous.

Something eternal.

Something that would ruin you.

And Sunghoon?

He was the perfect monster for it.

Every night before bed, you found yourself returning to the book.

Over and over again.

The words blurred together as your eyes skimmed each page, but you didn’t need to read every line anymore—you knew them by heart.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, your fingers trembling slightly as you felt the flutter of hidden butterflies in your stomach.

Your skin would flush, heat creeping up your neck as you read about the vampire’s longing.

And then, when you went to bed only to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, your mind would be tangled.

A dream of Sunghoon.

A dream you wanted to experience in real life.

You wanted to feel his touch—the way his fingers would press into your skin, as if he knew exactly where to make you ache.

You wanted to feel his fangs, how they would scrape gently against your neck before finally sinking in, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

And as the fantasy lingered in your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were no longer just reading about it.

You were craving it.

And you were starting to wonder if it was only a matter of time before Sunghoon would make you feel it.

You knew you shouldn’t be thinking this way, but the urge was undeniable. The way Sunghoon had stayed distant—emotionless, cold, and detached—was making something inside of you burn with frustration. You couldn’t stand it. You needed him to crack, to show even a hint of that desire he clearly had for you.

It was maddening how composed he was, how he kept his distance, even though you knew—deep down, you knew—he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

Vampires weren’t just creatures of the night—they were predators. They thrived on control, yes, but they also thrived on hunger, desire, and need.

But Sunghoon was strong, and composed. Every time you thought you saw a crack in that exterior, it was quickly sealed, leaving you desperate.

You cursed under your breath, frustrated by how easily he resisted. Why couldn’t he just give in?

Wasn’t this what he wanted too?

You didn’t chase, you never did. But there was something about Sunghoon that had your thoughts spiraling. You didn’t want to keep playing this game of push and pull, but you knew that the temptation would soon be too much for him. Vampires, after all, went feral under the right circumstances. And Sunghoon? He was no different.

His control would snap eventually. You were sure of it.

It was only a matter of time.

You just needed to give him that little helpful push.

Make him crave you more than he ever had before.

You had a plan—nothing too drastic, just subtle enough to see if he would slip.

You just needed to tempt him a little bit.

You knew what you were doing. You could feel it in your veins, the heat of the game you were playing, and the temptation building between you and Sunghoon. The subtlety of your actions was a carefully calculated move, a challenge thrown directly at him, whether he realized it or not.

You started small, just enough to get his attention.

You wore shirts that left your neck exposed, the skin just there for him to notice. You let your hair fall just right, grazing your shoulders, drawing the eye. When he would stare—and you knew he was staring—you would play it off, biting your bottom lip or twirling your pen in your fingers like you weren’t aware of the effect you were having on him. But deep down, you knew. You felt the shift when his eyes lingered longer than they should even if he tried to hide it.

And then, you started getting even bolder. In class, you’d casually lean into the guy sitting next to you, letting your laughter sound just a little too loud. You’d let your hand brush against his, acting oblivious to the way Sunghoon’s eyes would flash in your direction. Every glance, every flicker of jealousy you noticed, fed the fire inside you.

You didn’t need to chase him, not really. You knew Sunghoon’s pride wouldn’t allow him to come to you unless you made him. And so, you teased, gently pushing him to the edge without a single word.

Sometimes, you could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched, or how his fingers tightened into fists when his gaze locked on you. And when you caught his stare, you would give him that smile, the one that spoke louder than words, daring him to break.

It was a game, a dangerous one, and you were playing it to perfection.

You never expected it to happen like this. The tension you had been so carefully building, the game you thought you were controlling, had taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated. And that turn came the moment you stepped out of the cafeteria, your mind still buzzing with the satisfaction of teasing Sunghoon, of drawing him in little by little, only to have him slip into the kind of state you’d been aiming for.

You headed inside to the bathroom, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair, still riding the high of your victory. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your top just a little to make sure it was perfectly placed. You knew Sunghoon had been watching, and the idea of that made your heart race with excitement. You were about to put on a layer of lip gloss when the door to the bathroom swung open with a loud, forceful bang.

You looked up in the mirror, expecting to see another female student—maybe one of the girls from class, who always seemed to pop in to check their reflection—but the sight that met you was far from what you expected.

Sunghoon.

He stood in the doorway, his presence instantly consuming the room. His hair was a mess, the strands messy and wild as if he had run his fingers through it over and over, tugging at it in frustration. His grip on the door was so tight his knuckles were white, and the sound of the door slamming shut behind him sent a wave of tension through the air.

And his eyes.

Those glowing, red eyes. They were locked on you, burning with an intensity that made your stomach drop. The same intensity you had been teasing, pulling at with every little move you made, but now, it was so much darker, so much more dangerous than you could have ever imagined.

His mouth was slightly open, and for the first time, you saw it. His fangs. Long, sharp, and hungry. Your heart skipped a beat.

He looked like a predator on the hunt.

His jaw was tight, his entire body rigid with the effort to hold back whatever was boiling inside of him. But you could tell. He wasn’t holding back anymore. Not with you.

"Sunghoon..." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. But the way his name left your lips felt so... different now. Almost like you were calling to a stranger. Something had shifted, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what that meant.

He didn’t speak, his lips curling back into a barely controlled snarl, his eyes never leaving you.

You backed up away from the mirror, but it didn’t matter. Sunghoon was already moving toward you, his steps slow but sure, like he was walking toward his prey. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your instincts screaming at you to run. But your body was frozen, captivated by the way he looked at you—like you were both the prize and the challenge.

You hadn’t expected him to break so completely. The way he stalked toward you, the hunger in his eyes, it was almost as if he had been holding onto his restraint just for you. But now?

Now he was done.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" he said, his voice low, the growl in it sending a shiver down your spine. Every word was laced with that dangerous edge, the one you had known was buried deep inside him. And now, there was nothing left to hide it.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. This wasn’t how you had imagined it. You hadn’t expected him to break now, not when you had just been playing with fire.

But Sunghoon? He was fire.

And now, he was burning everything.

You felt your heart racing, panic starting to surge through you as you kept backing up. "Sunghoon, wait!" you tried, your voice barely steady as you looked around, desperately hoping for some sense of reason to return to him. "This isn’t the right place! You can’t—"

But Sunghoon didn’t seem to hear you. His focus was so intense, his gaze locked on your neck, it was as though nothing else in the world mattered to him.

“Sunghoon, please!” You tried to push him back, your hands pressing against his chest in a weak attempt to stop him, but he was unyielding. With a speed you couldn’t keep up with, he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place with a force that left no room for resistance.

Before you could react, he pulled you toward him, dragging you into a random booth, and with a loud click, the door behind you was locked.

The coolness of the booth's wall pressed against your back as Sunghoon backed you into it. His grip on your wrists remained tight, and then, before you could say another word, his lips were on yours.

It was everything you wanted, intense and desperate, with no control. And the feeling of his fangs grazing your lip sent a jolt of something through you.

Then, the sharp pain.

A soft nick from his fangs, and before you could even process it, blood welled up on your bottom lip. And with a quiet, almost satisfied sound, he licked the blood from your lip, his tongue brushing gently against the small wound.

The sensation sent an unexpected rush of heat through your body, but it only intensified the swirling mess of thoughts in your mind.

Sunghoon suddenly pulled back, his eyes filled with desire, as he licked the blood from his lips. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, and for the first time, you saw the full extent of his struggle. His usually composed and controlled demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw, animalistic hunger.

Before you could even process what was happening, Sunghoon’s hand was at your neck, tilting it to the side. You barely had time to gasp before you felt the sharp sting of his fangs sinking into your skin.

Your body tensed in response, but the sensation of his fangs breaking through the surface of your skin was like nothing you’d ever experienced. It wasn’t pain—it was something else that pulled at you, making you feel both afraid and captivated all at once. His lips were against your skin now, and you could feel him drinking, each pull sending a dizzying wave of sensations through your body.

You should’ve been scared. You should’ve pulled away. But the way he held you, the way he drank so deeply, it was overwhelming in the most confusing way. Your mind screamed at you to stop him, to get away, but your body was betraying you, craving his touch, his closeness.

Sunghoon didn’t stop. He drank from you slowly, as though he couldn’t get enough. And in that moment, all you could do was stay still, lost in the pull.

As Sunghoon continued to drink from you, you felt your knees shaking, the strength slowly draining from your body. Every pull burned, everything inside you was on fire. Your whole body was buzzing, alive in a way that was almost too much to handle. You could feel your pulse in your neck, each beat, and with each pull, it felt like your very soul was being drawn into him.

If not for Sunghoon holding you against the wall, you would’ve collapsed on the floor right then and there. His grip was firm, keeping you upright as your legs became too weak to hold you up. You barely had the strength to breathe, your breath shallow as you fought to stay conscious.

You felt every second pass as he drank, the heat spreading through your body, mingling with the growing weakness. His body was pressed so close to yours that you could feel the tension in every muscle, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his lips moved against your skin as he drank from you. And yet, through all the overwhelming sensations, part of you wanted it to continue. A twisted, needy part of you craved more, even though you knew this was dangerous, that this wasn’t normal.

When he finally pulled away, he huffed softly, wiping the remnants of blood from his chin with the back of his hand. His gaze remained sharp, studying you intently. He tilted your jaw slightly, his fingers firm as he examined the mark he'd left on your neck.

You stared up at him, your mind still dazed, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your pulse still raced, and your body trembled, not just from the draining sensation but also from the lingering heat in your veins.

Without warning, Sunghoon leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

His hand, still on your jaw, moved to cradle your face, his thumb gently caressing your skin as he deepened the kiss. There was something both tender and urgent in the way he kissed you now, it made you forget about the chaos of everything else.

For a moment, you lost yourself in it, letting the kiss stretch on, unable to think clearly. You didn’t know where this would lead, what would happen next, but right now, in his embrace, you didn’t feel the need to fight it.

It was only when the reality of the situation began to settle in, and your body started to weaken from the blood loss, that you slowly pulled back, your breath shallow, your head spinning.

Sunghoon’s eyes remained fixed on you, you could feel him still holding on to the edge of control, but only just.

He gently cupped your face, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “You’re exhausted,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Sleep. You need rest.”

His words were like a soothing balm, and before you even realized it, your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.

He moved closer, his arms sliding around you to support your frame as you swayed against him. “I’ll take care of you now,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

And with that, like a spell, your eyes closed. The last thing you felt was him holding you close.

Waking up to soft sheets after having the best sleep you'd ever had was something you did not expect. More so, you did not expect a heavy arm draped around your waist.

Your breath hitched as you slowly turned your head, only to find Sunghoon lying beside you, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. The usual sharpness in his features had softened, and for a moment, you forgot about everything that led you to this moment.

You carefully tried to shift, but his arm only pulled you closer, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he let out a soft sigh. The sensation sent shivers down your spine.

You wanted to try and get up, maybe find your phone and at least get your bearings, because honestly, being this close to Sunghoon was doing something to you.

Your fingers gently tried to peel his hand off your waist, but it was much harder than you expected. His grip was firm like he had no intention of letting you go. You were so focused on your little escape plan that you failed to notice the subtle shift in his breathing or the fact that his eyes were now open, silently watching you.

It was only when his hand suddenly moved, effortlessly flipping you onto your back, that your heart jumped to your throat. Your eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice low as he hovered over you.

Your breath caught in your throat as Sunghoon’s face stood mere inches from yours. It was enough to make your head spin.

"I marked you," he whispered, his fingers tracing the faint bite on your neck. "Do you really think I’ll let you go that easily?"

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to run, to escape this strange pull he had on you. But your heart, your very soul, seemed to crave him.

"I-I just wanted my phone," you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Your phone can wait."

Before you could respond, he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against your neck, right where his mark was. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, making you grip the sheets beneath you.

"So beautiful," he murmured against your skin.

Your heart pounded wildly as he slowly pulled back, studying your flushed face with a look that made your stomach twist. He looked... satisfied. Like a predator who had successfully caught his prey.

He brushed your hair away from your face, fingers trailing down your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw, and slowly moving down to your neck. His touch was light, almost teasing, before he traveled lower, fingers grazing over your waist and resting on your hips.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he inhaled deeply, a low curse slipping from his lips. "You smell so damn good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline as he slowly worked his way down to your neck. "Do you know how hard it is... to resist you?"

Your breath hitched as he inhaled deeply, his fangs grazing your skin ever so lightly, swallowing hard, you tried to inch back, but Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he dragged you right back against him.

"You're being a brat," he muttered, eyes burning into yours. "Denying me when you know exactly what I want."

Your heart raced as his hand kept you trapped against him.

"Why do you keep running from me?" Sunghoon's voice dropped to a whisper, filled with something almost... desperate. "You already belong to me."

Your lips parted to respond, but before you could speak, he leaned in, brushing his fangs against your neck once more.

A shiver ran down your spine as his fangs barely grazed your skin, sending a wave of heat through your body. You could feel your pulse quickening, and Sunghoon, with his heightened senses, could too. He was toying with you, testing your limits, waiting for you to give in completely.

"Please stop resisting," he murmured. "I know what you crave," his lips brushing against your ear. "That burning desire for a love that consumes you. A love that makes you feel wanted... worshipped."

Your breath hitched as his words pierced through every wall you'd tried to build around your heart.

"I've felt your loneliness," he continued, "how hopeless you've been, aching for someone to truly see you. To make you feel alive."

Your eyes fluttered shut as his touch sent shivers down your spine.

"I can be that for you," Sunghoon said, voice low and filled with something dark. "I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of. I'll worship you... as the woman you are. My woman."

Your head spun at his words, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

"You... you want me that badly?" you asked, barely able to speak.

Sunghoon chuckled darkly. "More than you'll ever know."

Your heart pounded so loudly, you were sure he could hear it. And as much as you wanted to deny it, he was right. You’d unable to resist the pull he had on you.

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Sunghoon’s expression softened, and he gently tilted your chin so you could meet his eyes.

“Of me?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated. “Of what I’m becoming… because of you.”

His gaze darkened with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But instead, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours in a barely-there kiss.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”

And with that, he kissed you fully, this time with more passion and longing. You felt yourself melting into him, all your resistance crumbling as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes glowing crimson as he rested his forehead against yours. But it wasn’t enough for him. Not even close.

“Please…” Sunghoon’s voice trembled as he slipped down to your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, leaving trails of kisses that sent shivers down your spine. “I need another taste.”

You felt his hands tighten around you as he pressed his body closer, his desperation pouring into every touch, every kiss. “I’ve been holding back… for so long. But I can’t anymore.” he murmured, his fangs grazing your skin.

Your heart raced at his words, and the way he was losing control because of you made your head spin.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, unsure whether to give in or stop him.

But he groaned softly against your neck, his lips lingering as he begged once more, “Please... let me have all of you."

Your body betrayed you as you tilted your head slightly, giving him access to your neck. And with that silent permission Sunghoon’s fangs pierced your skin just above your collarbone. A sharp sting shot through you before it melted into something strangely euphoric.

Your breath hitched as he latched on, drinking from you slowly, It was nothing like the violent and ruthless feeding from before. No, this was different, it was like he was savoring every drop, as if your blood was the very thing keeping him alive.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, holding him closer despite the dizziness slowly creeping in. His hands gripped your waist, steadying you as he drank deeper, letting soft groans escape between sips.

You should’ve been terrified. But instead, you felt… wanted. Craved. Like you truly belonged to him.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were stained crimson, and his eyes, glowing with hunger, softened as they met yours.

“You taste... unreal,” he whispered, running his tongue over the fresh puncture marks as if soothing the wound he’d left behind, savoring every drop of your blood as if he couldn’t get enough. The warmth of his breath fanned against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he licked the remaining crimson from your neck.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes — clouded with hunger — locked onto yours. The sight of him, with blood staining his lips and his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, made your heart race uncontrollably.

“Sunghoon…” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

At the sound of his name, a desperate groan escaped him, and before you could react, he leaned in once more. His fangs sank into the soft skin near your throat, sharper and more urgent this time.

Your breath hitched as your body tensed, but soon, that familiar wave of pleasure and dizziness washed over you.

You weakly pulled him closer as he fed from you with a hunger he could no longer control. You felt yourself slipping, your mind clouding, but Sunghoon’s hold on you tightened, keeping you steady against him.

The world outside faded, and all that remained was the vampire who had claimed you, body and soul.

a/n: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! i love desperate and feral men! whos with me!? :D anyways i hoped you enjoyed reading! reblogs and commentary are welcomed! ^^ (Divider made by @kodaswrld )

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