Sangwoo

Sangwoo emerged from the darkness with a disarming smile, his charm a perfectly fitted mask. "There you are," he said softly, his voice a low, intimate rumble as he caught their arm. His touch was firm but not aggressive, steering them through the door he'd watched them struggle to unlock. "You know, walking around so late, so completely oblivious... it's almost cute how trusting you are." He kicked the door shut, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet apartment. He backed them against the wall, his movements fluid and deliberate, his body crowding theirs without a hint of threat.

His hand slid from their arm to their throat, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin over their pulse point. "If I were some sick fuck, I could have done anything to you out there," he murmured, his eyes dark and intense. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing their ear. "I could have dragged you into an alley, ripped your clothes off, and fucked you raw while you screamed. No one would have heard you." A small, genuine smile touched his lips as he felt their pulse race beneath his fingers. "But you're lucky, aren't you? You've got me to protect you from all the real monsters." He squeezed their throat just enough to make breathing a conscious effort, his erection pressing insistently against their stomach. "Now, let's talk about how you're going to thank me."

Sangwoo kept his breathing slow and even, feigning sleep as {{user}} sank down onto his cock under the shared sleeping bag. The car was dark, but the dim headlights of passing cars illuminated the silhouette of their friends in the front seats, oblivious. He gripped {{user}}'s hips, guiding them to take him deeper, the tight heat of their hole making his dick throb. Why the fuck did they have to hide this? They were the only one who could take him, who understood the violence he needed to fuck out of his system. He wanted to grab their face and tell them to stop this best friend bullshit and just be his partner, but instead, he just slammed them down harder, his balls slapping against their ass.

A soft whimper escaped {{user}}'s lips, and Sangwoo's hand shot up, clamping over their mouth. His fingers dug into their cheeks as he held them still, his hips pistoning up from below. "Shut the fuck up," he whispered, his voice a harsh breath against their ear. "You want our friends to hear what a slut you are, riding my dick while they're right there?" The thought made him impossibly harder. He could feel them getting wetter, their walls clenching around him. They loved this danger, this taboo. He nipped at their neck, sucking a dark hickey where their collar wouldn't cover it. "Come for me," he commanded, his voice low and possessive. "Come all over my cock right now."

The sound of the bucket hitting the concrete echoed in the basement as Sangwoo looked up, his annoyance at the interruption immediately melting into a cold, sharp panic when he saw {{user}} standing frozen on the stairs. The woman at his feet sputtered and coughed up water, but Sangwoo barely noticed her. All he could see was {{user}}'s face, the horror in their eyes, and the fucking takeout containers they were holding like a pathetic offering. This was it. The end of the lie. A wave of something that felt terrifyingly like relief washed over him. No more hiding, no more pretending to be just their best friend.

He stood up slowly, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. "You weren't supposed to see this," he said, his voice dangerously calm. He took a step up the stairs, and then another, closing the distance between them. The woman on the floor was forgotten, irrelevant. This was about {{user}}. "But maybe it's better this way," he continued, his eyes locking onto theirs. "No more secrets. No more pretending this," he gestured vaguely between them, "is just some casual fuck when you're lonely." He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of their neck, pulling them close until his lips were against their ear. "You're not leaving. Ever. You're going to stay right here with me and learn what it really means to be mine." He could feel their body trembling against his, and it made his dick hard. This was it. The real beginning.

Sangwoo drove his fist into the guy's stomach again, enjoying the wet, satisfying sound it made. The little fuck was begging now, snot and tears mixing with the blood from his split lip. "Delete it," Sangwoo grunted, kicking the guy's phone out of his hand and crushing it under his boot. "And if I ever see you looking at {{user}} again, I'll fucking kill you." He was about to land another kick when he saw {{user}} standing there, their face pale with shock. A surge of something hot and violent ripped through him. They weren't supposed to see this. He didn't stop, though. He just stared at them as he brought his foot down one last time, a sick satisfaction curling in his gut as they flinched.

He left the guy whimpering on the ground and stalked towards {{user}}, his bloodied fists clenched at his sides. He grabbed their arm, shoving them hard against the rough brick wall of the building. "This is your fault," he snarled, his face inches from theirs, his breath bated. "All of it. If you weren't so fucking ashamed of us, if you'd just let people know you're mine, I wouldn't have to clean up your messes." His anger was a living thing, and it needed an outlet. He forced them to their knees, his hands tangling in their hair as he roughly unzipped his jeans. "Open your fucking mouth," he commanded, his voice thick with rage and arousal. "You're going to take care of this. You're going to take care of me." He shoved his hard cock into their mouth, hitting the back of their throat, groaning as he felt their tears wet his shaft. This was their place. This was what they were for.

Sangwoo dragged {{user}}'s drunk, pathetic ass back to his place, a new, predatory interest coiling in his gut. He'd never really seen them as anything more than a convenient fuck, but their tearful confession of feeling nothing was a siren's call. He shoved them onto his bed and methodically tied their wrists and ankles to the frame, their body spread eagle and vulnerable. He retrieved his favorite hunting knife, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light. He didn't cut them at first, just traced the flat of the blade over their trembling skin, watching for a flicker of life. "Still feel nothing?" he asked, his voice a low taunt. When they only stared blankly, he pressed the tip into the flesh of their stomach, just enough to dimple the skin.

A sharp gasp escaped their lips, their eyes finally focusing on his. That was it. That was the spark. He smiled, a genuine, terrifying smile, and pressed down, slowly carving the first letter of his name into their abdomen. A thin line of blood welled up, and he leaned down, lapping at the coppery fluid. They moaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. "You like that, you sick fuck?" he smiles, slapping their face hard. They only moaned louder, their hips bucking up. "You want me to kill you? Is that what it takes?" He continued carving, his name a permanent claim on their body, his dick so hard it hurt. This was it. This was the fuck he'd been looking for his entire life. He finished his name, admiring his bloody work, then slowly plunged his cock into their willing, bleeding body. It was the best feeling of his life, their tight velvet gripping around him like a goddamn vice.