Chapter Text
Wonwoo had always identified as demisexual, meaning that he needed to form a deep emotional connection with someone before experiencing any sexual attraction. He was completely at peace with this aspect of himself, yet his friends never seemed to understand. They would tease him constantly, throwing out comments like, "Maybe you're just too conservative," or even, "You should see a psychologist about this." Though he tried to brush off their words, the constant remarks sometimes made him feel like there was something wrong with him, even though he knew there wasn’t.
His friends also knew about Jeonghan—how could they not? Jeonghan had been his first love, his first everything. They had dated all throughout high school, and in those years, Wonwoo had been utterly convinced that Jeonghan was the one . With him, he had experienced all of his firsts—first kiss, first love, first heartbreak. He had imagined a future together, believing that one day, Jeonghan would be the man he married, the person he built a life with.
But that dream had shattered in an instant. One day, completely by accident, Wonwoo discovered that Jeonghan had been cheating on him. And not just a fleeting mistake or a one-time slip-up—his boyfriend had been in a secret relationship with a college student named Seungcheol for two years . The betrayal was staggering. When Wonwoo confronted him, he had expected guilt, apologies, maybe even a desperate attempt at an excuse. But Jeonghan hadn’t even bothered to deny it. Instead, he had looked him straight in the eye and said, "Seungcheol gives me what you never could."
Those words had left an open wound in Wonwoo’s heart. He had never thought Jeonghan capable of such cruelty, never imagined that the boy he loved so deeply could betray him so effortlessly. The pain had been unbearable, and it had taken him a long time to piece himself back together.
By the time he entered college, he had managed to rebuild himself, but dating had never quite been the same. A few guys had shown interest in him, flirting with him, asking him out. Some even seemed promising at first, but the moment they realized that Wonwoo wasn’t going to jump into bed with them after just one or two dates, their interest vanished. It didn’t bother him as much as it once might have. He had come to accept that he didn’t need sex or a romantic relationship to be happy. He had other things in life to focus on, and he was fine with that.
Now, as he settled into his dorm for the new semester, he let out a quiet sigh. He had arrived a day early to get settled in, and now, with his bags unpacked and his room organized, he was more than ready to sleep. Tomorrow would mark the start of a new semester, though he didn’t expect much from the first week. Professors loved to waste time with introductions and syllabus overviews, dragging things out before the real workload began.
Yawning, he reached for his glasses, carefully placing them on the nightstand before turning off the lamp. As darkness filled the room, he pulled the blankets up to his chest and closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the comfort of his bed. Whatever this semester had in store, he would take it one day at a time.
⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹
The bass of the nightclub thrummed through the floor, a steady pulse that vibrated in Wonwoo’s chest like a second heartbeat. The lights strobed in bursts of neon—red, blue, purple—casting erratic shadows over the writhing bodies that filled the space. He hadn’t chosen to be here; Soonyoung had probably dragged him, insisting that he needed a break, that he needed to live a little. But standing at the bar with a drink in hand, scanning the crowd, Wonwoo found nothing that caught his interest.
That was until two vivid green eyes flashed in his field of vision.
He didn’t see the rest of the person—just those eyes, luminous even in the dim haze of the club. There was something about them, something magnetic, something that pulled him in. He found himself moving without thinking, pushing past people, navigating the packed dance floor toward that hypnotic stare. Even when he reached them, even when the owner of those eyes was close enough that their breath could have mingled, those eyes were the only thing he could see clearly.
A firm hand landed on his hip. The stranger’s touch was confident, deliberate, as they pulled him in and began to move, their bodies falling into rhythm with the heavy bass of the song. Wonwoo let himself be guided, let the stranger lead, feeling the pressure of strong fingers against his waist as they swayed together. The heat between them was instant, almost suffocating. A teasing roll of the hips, a lingering brush of lips against his nape.
Then, just as suddenly as they had started, the song ended, and before Wonwoo could catch his breath, the stranger was dragging him toward the bathrooms, hands roaming his body as if already claiming him.
The club lights faded as they stumbled into the dimly lit restroom, the walls vibrating faintly from the music outside. Still, Wonwoo couldn’t see the stranger’s face—just those mesmerizing green eyes. It was like nothing else existed, like the rest of the world had melted away. Then, lips met his own. Their kiss was s oft, warm, demanding.
Wonwoo barely had a second to react before the stranger deepened the kiss, tilting his head, devouring him. He let out a muffled gasp as hands traced over his ribs, over the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. He didn’t want to open his eyes—he didn’t want to see anything other than those intoxicating eyes that watched him as if they already knew every inch of him, every weakness, every way to unravel him.
A tongue slid against his own, teasing, coaxing him into submission. And Wonwoo gave in. Heat pooled in his gut as the stranger’s mouth left his lips, trailing a burning path along his jaw, down his neck. Teeth scraped against his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine, and when a hot mouth latched onto the sensitive skin there, Wonwoo let out a breathy, helpless sound. His head fell back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, fingers threading into the stranger’s hair, holding onto something to ground himself.
And then, the positions shifted, Wonwoo didn’t know when it had happened, but suddenly, he was the one against the wall, and the stranger was pressing into him, firm hands working on the buttons of his shirt. Fabric peeled away, revealing bare skin to the cool air, and the stranger’s touch followed—tracing over his chest, down his abdomen, fingertips ghosting over sensitive flesh.
The air felt electric, his body trembling under those wandering hands. Then, they went lower. Just a sharp tug, and the button of his jeans popped open, the zipper following in a smooth, practiced motion. The stranger sank to their knees, disappearing from Wonwoo’s view, but still—those green eyes never left his.
A hiss escaped his lips as warm fingers wrapped around his hardening length, stroking slowly, teasingly, until he was fully erect and aching. Wonwoo swallowed hard, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the overwhelming sensation of being touched so intimately by someone he still hadn’t fully seen.
But then, the stranger leaned in, and a hot, wet tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, tasting him, Wonwoo’s fingers tightened in the stranger’s hair, a choked groan slipping past his lips. He squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering, but the pleasure only intensified. A slow lick, a teasing swirl of the tongue, and then—warmth, wetness, the tight heat of a mouth engulfing him completely. A strangled moan tore from Wonwoo's throat.
The stranger sucked him in deep, cheeks hollowing, tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft in a way that made his knees buckle. Wonwoo had to brace himself against the wall, his other hand clutching at the stranger’s shoulder for balance. The rhythm was slow at first, torturous, the suction just enough to drive him mad. Then, a hollowing of the cheeks, a deliberate bob of the head, and Wonwoo’s restraint snapped.
His hips jerked forward on instinct, pushing deeper into that eager mouth, and the stranger took him effortlessly, throat relaxing to accommodate him. A muffled groan vibrated around his cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to his core. Wonwoo’s breathing was ragged, his grip tightening in the stranger’s hair as he found himself moving, thrusting into that willing heat. His mind was blank, overtaken by the raw, overwhelming sensation of it—of being consumed so utterly, so greedily.
The obscene sounds of wet suction filled the small space, each slick movement sending him closer and closer to the edge. The stranger didn’t falter, didn’t stop, just took him deeper, faster, matching his frantic pace until Wonwoo could feel the coil of pleasure winding so tight in his stomach he thought he might snap.
And then just a final thrust, his mouth left a shuddering gasp, and he spilled into that waiting mouth. The stranger swallowed around him, taking every drop, sucking him through the aftershocks until Wonwoo was trembling against the wall, breathless, spent.
⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹
Wonwoo woke up with a sharp inhale, his heart still racing from the remnants of his dream. As his mind cleared from the haze of sleep, he became uncomfortably aware of the sticky warmth between his legs. His breath hitched in realization—this had not been an ordinary dream. His body had betrayed him, leaving undeniable evidence behind. His boxers and pajama pants were ruined, clinging uncomfortably to his skin.
Sitting up, he ran a hand through his messy hair, his fingers slightly trembling. What the hell just happened? He had never experienced anything like this before. A wet dream, his first wet dream, and it had felt so intensely real. The sensations lingered in his body, the ghost of heated touches and burning green eyes seared into his memory.
Shaking his head, he stripped off his soiled clothes and headed to the shower, eager to wash away the mess and confusion. As the warm water cascaded over his skin, he felt his muscles relax, but his thoughts remained tangled. He didn’t masturbate often, so the release had caught him off guard, leaving him slightly dazed. He had almost forgotten how good it felt—how euphoric and all-consuming an orgasm could be. And yet, there was something unsettling about how it had happened.
After drying off and getting dressed, Wonwoo couldn’t shake the feeling that his dream had been different . It hadn’t just been a product of his imagination—it had felt deliberate, as if someone had truly been there with him, touching him, seducing him. His curiosity got the best of him, and before heading to class, he sat down with his laptop and started searching.
That’s when he stumbled upon something that made his breath catch.
An incubus.
A demon known for visiting people in their sleep, luring them into pleasure and feeding off their energy. The more he read, the more uneasy—and intrigued—he became. According to mythology, incubi typically targeted women, and there was no mention of oral sex in the lore, but other details aligned eerily well with his experience. Yet, if they were meant to drain their victims, why did he feel more energized than ever?
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. It didn’t make sense. But at the same time, nothing else did either.
What puzzled him the most was the fact that he couldn’t remember the face of the being in his dream. He could recall every sensation—the firm grip of strong hands, the way broad shoulders had towered over him, the deep, his mouth against his skin—but the face? Nothing. Except for those piercing green eyes, glowing with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about them.
Throughout the day, he found himself absentmindedly sketching those eyes in the margins of his notebook, over and over again, while his professors droned on about syllabus expectations and upcoming assignments. He barely registered anything they were saying—his mind was far too preoccupied with the lingering touch of his mysterious sexual demon , as he had now decided to call him.
And then a thought struck him: What if he was real? What if somewhere on this campus, walking among the sea of students, was the owner of those hypnotic green eyes?
That idea lodged itself in his mind, and he couldn’t help but subtly scan the faces of the new students he passed, searching for something— someone —that might resemble the shadowy figure from his dream. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell anyone what he was doing. His friends had already teased him enough for his lack of an active sex life—he could only imagine their reactions if he told them he had spent his night being seduced by an incubus.
When he eventually met up with Soonyoung, Jun, and Jihoon, he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, determined to act normal. But apparently, he wasn’t doing a great job of it.
"Won! What are you looking at? Is there someone you like?" Soonyoung's voice broke through his thoughts, making Wonwoo flinch. His friend had caught him staring toward a group of unfamiliar students—freshmen, most likely.
"Ah, no, no… I was just thinking," Wonwoo quickly replied, but the heat creeping up his neck and ears betrayed him.
Soonyoung grinned knowingly. "Oh? That’s a first."
"Well," Jun interjected in his usual gentle tone, "you are the only one in our group who hasn’t had a partner since we started university. It’s been a long time since Jeonghan and—"
"I'm over Jeonghan," Wonwoo interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. He clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose. It was true—he was over Jeonghan. But that didn’t mean he liked being reminded of him.
Jihoon, ever the observant one, stepped in before the conversation could spiral. "Soon, let it go. Wonwoo has the right to be alone if that’s what he wants. We’ve talked about this—no pressure."
Soonyoung pouted but relented. "Fine. But if you do like someone, you can always tell us, okay, Won-Won?"
Jun hummed in agreement, his voice warm and reassuring. "Yeah, we won’t tease. Much."
Wonwoo forced a small smile, appreciating their concern even if they had no idea what was actually on his mind.
As the group sat down for lunch, the conversation shifted to more mundane topics—classes, professors, upcoming projects. They all studied different things, so they rarely had classes together. Jihoon was pursuing music, Jun was in Fine Arts, and Soonyoung was studying graphic design, which occasionally overlapped with Wonwoo’s illustration courses.
Despite the comfortable chatter, Wonwoo’s thoughts remained elsewhere. He absentmindedly twirled his pencil between his fingers, the image of those green eyes burning at the back of his mind. He had no idea if he’d ever see them again—awake or asleep.
⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹
The week passed by in a slow, predictable rhythm. The first few days of school were always the easiest—mostly introductions, syllabus reviews, and professors rambling about their lives and expectations. Wonwoo had spent most of his time doodling in the margins of his notebooks, the sketches of those hypnotic green eyes multiplying with each passing day. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the memory of them, nor the way their owner had made him feel .
At night, he found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room, almost hoping for another dream—for another encounter with the shadowy figure who had consumed his thoughts. But nothing happened. Every night was uneventful, dreamless, and frustratingly empty. It left him restless.
By the time the weekend arrived, his friends suggested going out to a nightclub—something they often did, dragging him along despite his usual reluctance. But this time, something was different. The moment the idea was brought up, Wonwoo didn’t hesitate to agree.
That alone was enough to raise eyebrows. "You want to go out?" Soonyoung had asked, almost choking on his water. "Like… voluntarily? Without us forcing you?"
Jun had looked equally suspicious, narrowing his eyes. "Did someone body-swap Wonwoo or something?"
Even Jihoon, who usually didn’t pry, gave him a questioning look. Wonwoo merely shrugged, brushing off their curiosity. "I just feel like it."
And in part, that was true. But the real reason he agreed to go out had nothing to do with wanting to dance or drink. It had everything to do with him . The green-eyed demon.
Because that was where he had seen him before—somewhere dark, surrounded by flashing lights and the heavy thrum of music. He had no logical reason to believe he would find him at the club, but a part of him clung to the possibility. What if he’s real? What if I see him again?
That thought alone had been enough to make him want to go.
For the first time in years, Wonwoo actually put effort into his outfit. Instead of his usual muted tones and loose-fitting clothes, he chose something that fit his body better, something that showed just enough skin to be tempting without being obvious. He wore a black, slim-fitting button-up, leaving a few top buttons undone to reveal a hint of his collarbones, paired with dark, well-fitted jeans that hugged his legs just right. He even ran his fingers through his hair a few extra times to give it a more effortless, tousled look.
He wasn't sure if it was him he was trying to impress, or if he was simply chasing the feeling of being wanted again.
When they finally arrived at the club, the atmosphere was exactly as expected—loud music pulsing through the walls, multicolored lights flashing in hypnotic patterns, and bodies moving in sync with the rhythm. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and something almost electric, a charged energy that made everything feel slightly surreal.
As soon as they entered, Wonwoo barely acknowledged his friends before heading straight for the bar. That alone was unusual.
Normally, he would linger at the entrance, reluctantly following behind the others or finding an excuse to avoid dancing altogether. But tonight, he had a purpose. He ordered a drink, settling onto one of the barstools as he let his gaze sweep across the room.
His heart pounded with anticipation, eyes searching— waiting . But there was nothing.
No piercing green eyes staring back at him from the crowd. No mysterious figures lurking in the shadows. Just the same drunken revelers grinding against each other on the dance floor, their hands roaming over strangers’ bodies without hesitation.
In the distance, he spotted Soonyoung and Jihoon dancing together, both laughing as they moved in sync to the music. Jun had already found someone to occupy his time, leaning close to whisper something into a stranger’s ear.
It was the same as always. A couple of girls approached him throughout the night, smiling sweetly as they asked him to dance. He turned them down.
A few guys tried their luck as well, throwing him flirtatious glances and casual invitations. But as usual, Wonwoo wasn’t interested. None of them were him .
Disappointment settled heavily in his chest, frustration creeping in alongside it. He felt ridiculous—stupid, even. What was he expecting? That some dream-incubus would suddenly materialize in the middle of a nightclub and sweep him off his feet? That those green eyes would suddenly appear, locking onto him with that same intensity?
You're obsessing.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Maybe he had let the dream get to him too much. Maybe it had just been his mind playing tricks on him, his subconscious weaving together some ridiculous fantasy born out of loneliness.
And yet, No one has ever made him feel the way he did.
That was the part he couldn’t let go of.
Even now, with the music thumping around him, with the warmth of alcohol in his veins, and the temptation of real, available people in front of him—none of it compared. The stranger in his dream had touched something inside him, and he thought it was something deeper than just physical desire.