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Summary
“Minho-yah,” he said, voice loud and forbidden in the quiet of the night, “Minho-yah, I did it again. I killed someone. And it felt– it felt so good, baby, like you’d never imagine.” Jisung never used honorifics after he’d killed someone, didn’t use them when they were fucking, either. The disrespect triggered a Pavlovian response in him, arousal pooling molten in his stomach, fear pounding in his veins. Addicting, like Jisung’s mouth on his.
jisung's hands are bloody.