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confessing to denki but he tells you he 'doesn't like you like that'. it's not a harsh rejection but it's not exactly a nice one either, he's worried that people overheard you, he's worried that jirou overheard. denki was the first person you ever liked and you liked him for years, finally getting the courage to tell him only for it to go terribly.
it's kind of crushing to hear, you thought you had a chance with him but you were proven wrong. it takes months for you to move on. with the help of kirishima. he's liked you since he'd first met you and after you confessed people started to find out what happened, eijiro found out what happened. so he tried to spend more time with you, trying to think of ways to get your attention and talk to you more and you do. you spar together and watch films, you help him dye his hair and he happily agrees to wearing face masks together. you're having so much fun with him.
you don't talk to denki much anymore. you used to always come to him when you had free time and chat. you don't do that anymore. you don't hate him but you're over him, after years you finally got the closure you needed and found out how he truly feels about you, you can move on and that's exactly what you're doing.
after months you and eijro become official and start dating but denki doesn't like that.
Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader
Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.
pairing. todoroki shouto x fem!reader
wc. 13.7k (pls give it a chance pls im sorry lmfao)
genre/warnings. prince!shouto, orphan!reader, childhood friends to lovers to strangers to something else again, domestic violence/child abuse, mentions of food insecurity, canon typical violence, major character death, endeavor hating (sorry sue me), public executions, explorations of death and grief, angst with a happy ending
summary.
prince todoroki shouto is going to be king. it is the reality that he faces day by day, even as he is haunted by the memory of the first girl he ever loved.
he refuses to allow you to remain a recollection.
For years after you disappear, Shouto dreams of you in the dark.
The castle is rarely quiet, even in the deepest hours of night; there’s always some sort of movement in the halls, the rustling whisper of maids or the subdued clang of guard armor. Having lived here for so many years, Shouto has learned to count time in footsteps—the maids pass by every half hour, and the guards pass every fifteen minutes.
Shards of moonlight fall through the gauzy curtains that frame the tall, arching window across from his bed. Through half-lidded eyes, the moon blooms into view, the stars scattered like silvery petals around it. He has always appreciated the sight—beautiful, sacred, unobtainable. He somehow likes that the feeling is so foreign—something inaccessible even to the flourishing touch of a prince.
You were always unique in that way.
He forces that thought away, the image of your smile still raw. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight—
A breeze slips through the half-open window, a heaving chill of a breath that fills the room. Shouto squeezes his eyes shut, tugging at his blanket until it brushes his chin. If he was smart, he would've slept three hours ago. He has lessons first thing in the morning.
He shifts to one side, then the other, and neither feels right; his weight settles uncomfortably over his arm, and his face starts to itch the moment that he gets in a comfortable position, and it's too hot under the blanket—
No need to rush, Shouto—
A blaze licks up his neck. Only the panting huff of his breath is audible as he sits up. His shirt is loose against his chest—he clutches the silk against his heartbeat, the pounding rhythm thudding against his fingertips.
Shouto? You're here!
Shouto! Let's go!
Sho—
“Fuck,” he curses quietly, a sheen of sweat layered over his forehead.
Behind the sheer darkness of his eyelids, muddled colors and shapes flash in succession: fields of sunflowers, the river brushing rocks, the towering trees of the forest, a lantern in the inky sky.
His fist clenches white-knuckled at his side, his other hand massaging the space between his brows.
A prince is strong. A prince is brave. A prince is collected, educated, and self-assured. Those lessons have been ingrained in him from a young age. He's sure it'll be written on his gravestone, too, perhaps even before his name.
When the sun rises, he’ll have no problem acting the part. He will smile when the servants bring him his breakfast, he’ll dress, and he’ll take on every duty without complaint. He'll be someone worthy of the title of Prince, of heir.
But for now, this hollowness in his bones is stubborn, and the cavern of his chest sits vacant. Alone.
So the moon draws across the sky, and Prince Todoroki Shouto watches in silence.
/
The library is on the first floor. Shouto is six years old when he first takes advantage of this.
Though most might have considered it a miracle that he had not acted on such temptations until now, Shouto simply believes it to be in his nature. He has always been raised to be his father's son—the Crown Prince, the heir to the throne, and the third son of the royal family. He does not stray from tradition, does not argue, and does not misstep.
From the day of his birth, King Enji's proclamation had been clear: Todoroki Shouto would one day be King, and everything else in the world was secondary to that fact.
The moment that he learned to read, his father had plopped him down in front of that too-tall library table and dropped a towering stack of books in front of him. At the time, he wrinkled his nose, the musty scent of dust unappealing to his young senses.
(The punishment for that act had been swift and severe; he'd cried himself to sleep that night, clutching welted hands to his quivering chest.)
Princes are strong. Princes are brave. Princes are collected, educated, and self-assured. He lets his eyes trace those words, black ink fading onto cream pages. He isn't permitted to leave that chair until his eyes droop closed and the candle flame wanes and mere piles of wax remain.
Some days, it's language lessons, or arithmetic, or the basics of alchemy. Others, it's etiquette, or swordplay, or archery. No matter what he does during the day, he always ends up battered and bruised in the library when the sun fades, sitting up on his knees with his chin resting on the rough book pages.
Princes must learn in isolation, in the same way that Kings must rule. Because of this, Shouto only learns about his siblings through whispers and gossip in the castle halls.
Not all Princes are created equal; King Enji had insistently ingrained that idea into Shouto's brain since he began his lessons. Touya is no longer a Prince, and Natsuo is hardly considered one in the eyes of his father. And Princesses, like Fuyumi, are of no concern at all.
"In the grand scheme of the world, there is only the King," his father tells him one day, bruising grip circling Shouto's wrist. "Only those who understand this fact are worthy of the throne."
The cycle of praise and punishment is vicious—Shouto learns from a young age that one always follows the other.
"You are a genius, My Prince. The kingdom is fortunate to be in the hands of such brilliance," his tutor tells him sweetly. He'll later be sent to bed with flaring, ruler-shaped wounds over his knuckles and the pale skin of his arms.
The castle keeps Shouto's world small, and he remains an unpolished pearl at the center of it all—eroded slowly, day by day.
That desperation and freedom-fueled ache, built up over years and years in a chest so small, cultivate the perfect storm that leads him to sneak outside that day.
Directly across from his table in the library is a towering, floor-to-ceiling window framed by thick velvet curtains that pool like blood on the ground. Because his studies are scheduled in the evening, Shouto hasn't looked at it much—at this time, all that is visible behind the glass is inky darkness.
But today, the window has been left ajar, allowing a numbing chill to run down the skin of his arms—one of the maids must have forgotten to close it while cleaning up earlier in the day. If he were to report such a blunder to his father, he's sure that the maid would face harsh consequences.
I'll just close it myself, he reasons. It's a completely innocent conclusion, but he finds himself taking cautious glances toward the door anyway, wincing as he lowers himself from his chair and crosses the room in a few quick strides.
The heat of his panting breath fogs up the window, the lingering moisture stamped with the shadow of his hand as he presses it to the glass. It must have rained earlier in the day—a scent of flora and earth clings to the air outside.
Even the slight pressure of his fingertips pushes the window open further, the glass swinging away from his touch—he gasps at the motion, teeth unintentionally clenching together.
It's open. Wide-open. Wide enough that with a small bit of strength, he could hoist himself out.
He peers outside, letting his gaze trace the hedges at the bottom of the hill, streetlights flickering just past them like dying stars. He can hear the echo of chatter and laughter, no longer muted by layers of glass and stone.
He gasps without meaning to at the sound, so allured by the idea of that normalcy.
He takes another glance at the door. No one usually checks on him during his studies; he's never attempted to escape before, after all, so they have no reason to suspect him. And he isn't escaping, not really—he's just getting some fresh air.
He'll be fast. No one will even realize he has stepped outside.
So he braces his hands against the window frame, pushes himself up, swings his legs over, and takes his first step into the grass. The breath he takes is long and stinging as it sinks into his lungs, threaded with the chill of the night air.
He's not dressed properly for this, fueled solely by the heat of the moment—only thin cotton wards off the cold, and it's not very effective at doing so. Shouto draws his arms tightly around himself as he takes another hesitant step.
Natsuo and Fuyumi are allowed to go out into the town occasionally, provided that they take sufficient guards with them. Shouto knows this because their pealing laughter echoes through the walls upon their return—they talk about their shared purchases, sweet treats and candied apples. It's an experience with which Shouto is wholly unfamiliar.
"Your public debut must be perfect," King Enji reasons, shaking his head. "We cannot let the people see you in-person until we are ready."
Obscured by the night, Shouto finds himself face-to-face with the lofty hedges, mere steps away from the outside world. The leaves are perfectly manicured, thick greenery concealing the town that lies beyond. He considers the wall for a moment, lips pressed in a thin line as he tries to contend with the feeling of disappointment that sprouts in his chest.
He'd been bold enough to step outside, but not to go any further, not enough to disturb the boundaries that had been established for him since birth. The castle looms behind him, windows like judgmental eyes—he should go back before anyone notices.
His stare lingers on a small crack in the hedges, a hole just large enough for a person to slip through. And still, despite his better judgment, he can't stop himself from sliding past the leaves, finally taking his first step on the other side.
He runs. He doesn't know why he does, but he runs once he's on the other side, feet pounding uneven stone as he follows the alleyway toward the town. There's a certain freedom in it, in the way the chilling breeze fills his lungs and tousles his hair. This area of the town seems to be empty at this time of night, anyway.
He finally stops in front of an unfamiliar building made of gray stone.
The grass that surrounds the building cracks under the breeze like old bones, dry and dying. Even the building itself appears tired and weary, the windows eerily shadowed, not a single brush of movement visible behind them.
You're crouched on the walkway that borders the square lawn, clusters of dandelions sprouting bright between the fence posts. It takes a few moments before you notice the young prince's presence, too absorbed in the dizzying yellows of the flowers.
When your gaze meets his, Shouto freezes. He sucks in a breath as your eyes drag over his clothes.
"Miss Mirko says we'll get sick if we go outside without our coats," you tell him, voice laced with soft accusation. He gives you a once-over, head tilted as he assesses the thin, ratty layer of cloth that you're referring to as your "coat". It's riddled with so many holes that he's sure his cotton nightshirt is doing a better job of staving off the cold.
Still, he nods slowly in response. "I won't get sick."
A pout rises to your lips, but you don't disagree. You're humming a song that Shouto doesn't recognize; something poignant and somber, like the piano waltz that they play during the Crownfall Parade. You focus your attention back on the flowers at your feet.
He wonders what you're thinking of, to be so engrossed in your own little world. A gaggle of drunkards exits the tavern past the alleyway, hiccuping and cheering, but you don't even flinch at the sound. Even as he crouches down next to you, frowning as he stares at the dandelions, you say nothing.
"Why are you outside?" Shouto tries. It's an appropriate question, he thinks; even non-royal children shouldn't be in the dark alone at night. "Won't Miss Mirko be worried?"
You shake your head. "She's sleeping. Looking after everyone all day makes her real tired."
The young prince cocks his head. "Everyone? Do you have a lot of siblings?"
There's a calculated pause in your song as you glance over at him, weary, like you're trying to figure out if he's making fun of you or not.
"No. Just a lot of orphans here," you finally say, nodding vaguely toward the building before you.
Shouto's eyes widen. At his young age, all he really understands is that orphans don't have parents. He wonders what might be so bad about that—without parents, there is no expectation, no pressure. You get to live with lots of other kids your age and go out at night as you please, even when it's cold.
"You must have a lot of friends then, right?" he offers, poking at one of the dandelions; its petals are soft and fleeting under his touch. It's a flimsy thing, nothing like the full-bodied blooms that grace the palace gardens.
The streetlight overhead flickers once, then twice, leaving the lines of your face shadowed. You shrug.
"Dunno," you return, tone entirely neutral. "You probably have more, though, being the Prince and all."
He hadn't been expecting that response at all. Shouto's heart lurches, nearly heaving him forward; he has to brace a hand against the fence to keep his forehead from smacking against it.
"You know who I am?"
Your brow furrows like he's just said something absolutely stupid. "Isn't it obvious? Your clothes are so clean, and I don't think anyone else in the whole kingdom has hair like yours."
His hand instinctually jumps to his hair, strands of red spilling between his spread fingers. Thinking back on it now, his identity would be completely obvious to any passerby—it's no wonder his father had warned him against leaving the castle walls. Anyone with working eyes would easily be able to get their hands on him.
"It's alright," you add, as if sensing his nervousness. "No one really walks by here, and I'm not gonna tell anybody."
He's not sure if he should trust you or not. Well, he's sure that he probably shouldn't considering that you're a stranger, but he has no choice; he'd already made his decision by coming out here.
"Alright."
When he thinks back on it later, Shouto can't really remember what else the two of you had talked about at all. Simple, arbitrary things most likely, like your favorite flower and your bedtime and what you liked to eat in the mornings—the kinds of things that only six-year-olds would care about. But it was the first time he had ever spoken to someone else his age, so every aspect of the interaction was fascinating in its own right.
He glances back toward the palace, gaze tracing the towers that scrape against the murky sky. If he isn't incorrect about the guards' patrols, they won't pass the library window again for another five minutes—just enough time to slip back inside.
You look up at him as he rises to his feet, brushing dust from his pants and trying to look presentable. "Going home already?"
Shouto wouldn't consider himself an expert in social cues, but he can't help but feel that it's disappointment that reflects in your eyes as you await his response.
"Yes."
Your head drops, attention directed back to the flower-lined fence.
"Okay," you say, words fluttering in the passing wind.
He lingers for a few more seconds, but you don't say anything more, so Shouto takes that as his cue to leave.
After a moment of hesitation, all he leaves you with is a quiet, "I'll be back sometime. If you're still here."
You don't deign to face him again as you deliver your response, though the smile on your lips is audible in your voice.
"I'm not going anywhere."
/
"The coronation is planned for next year, you know. Maybe even sooner."
King Enji's royal advisor, Keigo, tells Shouto this as he is getting fitted for the Crownfall Parade, which is due to take place in a few short weeks. The maids are quiet as they pull and tug at his tunic, rearranging the medals decorating his chest and adjusting the lay of his sash.
A black sash today, embroidered with the kanji of Touya's name alongside his mother's—a sign of mourning.
Shouto readjusts his posture, settling into a sense of cautious hesitation; he's still unsure of the intention behind Keigo's words, though he suspects it can't be anything good.
"I'm aware," he replies, intentionally brisk.
The maids are exchanging heated glances behind his back—he's sure this interaction will become the talk of the servants' quarters, though it doesn't particularly concern him. Practically every single movement he has made since he was born has been a source of gossip to them.
Shouto watches Keigo's shadow behind the folding screen that splits the changing room in half. His silhouette sharpens as Keigo takes a step forward.
"No dissent, then? That's rare for you."
Someone pulls a brush through the red half of his hair—Shouto winces as the bristles scrape over the rough skin of his scar. As she unscrews the lid from a small pot of gel, he briefly considers asking her to leave his bangs down, then decides against it.
"I've known this was coming for years," Shouto sighs, brushing lint from his sleeve. It only happens a few times a year, but he never looks forward to occasions like these—when finery is necessary and his collar sticks stiff to his neck. "I don't see why I'd have an argument now."
He isn't particularly fond of Keigo, and it's not simply because of his proximity to his piece-of-shit father. The royal advisor simply has a way of speaking that reflects knowledge beyond the human scope—as though he's waded through every memory, every thought that has ever graced Shouto's brain.
Keigo's shadow spreads murkily, like spilled ink, as he takes a step back, starting to pace back and forth.
"Your father already told you, right? You'll have the freedom of choosing your own wife—"
"I know," Shouto interrupts through clenched teeth, sharply enough that even Keigo pauses mid-step. It's a warning, cautioning any continuation related to this line of questioning.
Even the maids' murmurs cease, though their ministrations don't; Shouto feels someone smooth a cape against his back, the weighted fabric brushing the floor by his feet.
"So you're okay with this, then? Because once that crown is on your head, there's no going back."
The words are breaching on something unsavory, a memory that Shouto has locked in the deepest recesses of his mind. He barely registers the feeling of something being woven into his hair, soft and velvety.
"What do you want me to say?" Shouto replies, jaw tight. "This has nothing to do with you."
Keigo doesn't reply for a moment, as if weighing the merit of his answer.
"It just seems as though you still have certain people on the mind. And I think it's holding you back from fully accepting this role."
Someone sucks in a sharp breath—it's not Shouto, but it may as well be with the way his heart clenches. Your name is on Keigo's lips, he knows, and the thought makes a grating sting crawl up his throat.
"Don't," Shouto whispers, fists clenching as he inches forward, "don't you dare—"
The thick air in the room is saved by the sharp creak that echoes over the walls as the door is pushed open. Shouto tenses, curling a fist into the softness of his cape to ground himself; Keigo turns at the sound, awaiting a visitor.
"Good day, Sir Keigo," a maid greets, blissfully unaware of the tension in the room. Shouto can't see her past the folding screen, but he recognizes her voice well enough as she addresses him. "Your Royal Highness, your father would like to see you ready soon. Prince Natsuo and Princess Fuyumi are already prepared and waiting in the Great Hall."
Shouto lets his eyes flutter shut, already dreading whatever maddening advice his father will spout once he makes his way downstairs. He's in a foul mood as is, and he doesn't need the King to make it any worse.
"Yes, we'll be down in a minute," he answers loudly, trying to hold back the threads of irritation that weave themselves into his voice. "Thank you for letting me know."
The maid bids her goodbyes, and he lets a slow, uneven breath out of his nose as the door falls shut. His heart is pounding wildly, a shot of adrenaline running rampant through his veins. He flexes his fingers once, then twice, intentionally slowing the regular function of his body.
A prince is collected. A prince is collected. A prince is—
He considers himself in the mirror as a distraction—the sharp lines of his face, the even sharper wound of his own stare. His hair stands out even more in contrast to his dark sash and cape, the red-and-white partially concealed by a crown of black flowers.
"Your father simply wants to see you succeed, you know," Keigo starts, almost apologetic, like he knows he's already crossed the line. Shouto's teeth grit painfully. "If he recognizes you as a worthy king—"
"Don't." Shouto's voice lashes with frost as he steps out from behind the folding screen, jaw tight and gaze honed. "I'm not Touya. I don't give a damn about that man's approval. I never will."
Keigo can only watch in stunned silence as the prince stalks past him, brows furrowed and cheeks reddened, a line of maids following him out the door.
(Some of them give him disapproving glares, as if accusing him of upsetting the Prince on purpose. He deserves that, he thinks.)
Only when the door falls shut does he let out the soft sigh that builds in his throat.
"No," he murmurs, staring wistfully out the window. "No, you aren't."
/
Shouto is seven years old when he saves you for the first time.
Or, at least, when he thinks he does.
He'd been too afraid to attempt another escape for a while after his first one—once he returned to the castle, he'd been shocked by his own boldness, then readily accepted that it would likely never happen again.
Only a year later does that same sense of determination strike him once again. It's easier this time, but no less nerve-wracking, even as he takes the first step outside the walls.
When he returns to the orphanage building, you're not standing in the same spot that you were a year ago—the fence is clear, the dandelions freshly weeded. He feels a bit silly when a sense of disappointment builds in his chest. It's not as though you had literally meant that you wouldn't move from that place.
The sound of splashing water draws his attention.
As far as he knows, there aren't any fountains this close to the wall— they'd usually be closer to the town square, the plaza where most of the central business takes place. Creeping around the edge of the building, Shouto takes special care to remain in the shadows, unsure of what kinds of people might be lurking. Last time, you'd said that people rarely came through this way, but things can change.
There's a pond in the backyard of the orphanage, he finally realizes as he peeks between the slats of the fence in search of the source of the sound. There's a pond in the backyard of the orphanage, and someone is drowning in it.
His eyes widen, and his body moves before his mind catches up—one hand latches to the top of the fence, hoisting himself up slightly before he makes the full leap to the other side. He lands crouched, the force of the jump making his teeth grind together, before he breaks out into a full sprint.
"Get to the edge of the water!" he yells, uncaring of who else might hear. If his father would scold him for sneaking out, so be it—he'd rather that than watch someone die.
He crosses the lawn in a second flat, and then he's leaping into the water and grabbing the figure tightly, hauling them toward the grass.
"What on earth are you doing?!" you screech, arms flailing wildly in his hold. He releases you with a sharp gasp when your elbow collides with his cheek, a throb blooming over his face. The moment you feel his grip loosen, you shove him away, and he lands in a heap in the muddy dirt. "How dare you try to steal my virtue! I'm a lady, you know!"
A heat spreads up his neck and over his ears at the implication that he'd been acting like some sort of ruffian. He'd gone all this way to save you, yet you're acting unbelievably ungrateful.
"You…you were drowning!" He wipes his face off with the hem of his shirt. "I saved you, you know!"
"As if," you counter with a scoff, gesturing to the water. Now that Shouto's really looking at it, he flushes when he realizes the stone-dotted ground is easily visible. "I can swim, and this pond's as shallow as they come! Don't tell me they don't teach you to swim back at the castle?!"
"Of course they do!" Shouto fires back, rising to his feet. "And they teach me to have manners with strangers! Which you don't!"
Your twin glares simmer with anger and irritation—Shouto breaks eye contact first, trying to ignore the annoying way that you cheer as though you've won.
It's childish and petty and entirely unbecoming of a Prince, he thinks as he flops down into the grass. The dirt beneath him melts into mud as he squeezes the water out of his clothes, but he can't find it in himself to care. Instead, he watches the stars blink back at him from the darkening sky.
After a few moments, you sigh, clambering out of the water and lying down on the ground next to him, clearly having mutually exhausted yourselves in the heat of the moment and the ensuing argument. The crickets chirp to fill the quiet stretch.
"Sorry that I grabbed you," Shouto mumbles first, neck turning away from you.
You huff. "Sorry that I yelled at you."
That night, as an apology, you teach him how to skip a stone over water. Two weeks later, you show him how to pick out funny-shaped clouds and attribute objects to them. The next time, you share that you have a talent for drawing in the dirt with a stick, and he realizes that you have a lot more time on your hands than you let on.
You're odd; he knows that much.
But despite the ridiculousness of the pastimes that fill your days, Shouto finds that he can't stop himself from returning to you.
/
Shouto's mother dies when he is ten. It is the force that tilts his world off its axis.
Out of everything, the detail that he remembers the most is the painful rigidity of the mahogany floor. The night that she passed, he had knelt at her bedside, the pliant edge of the mattress giving under the tight grip of his fingers.
He had still been young back then, not notably strong, but he remembers feeling as though he could’ve torn that room apart. A quiet rage flickered in his chest, the silk bedsheets tugged sharp beneath his hand.
Fuyumi was crying over Natsuo’s shoulder. The sound echoed from the walls of the seemingly endless room. Shouto remembers hating his father in that moment for letting his mother remain somewhere so hopelessly vacant.
She liked painting. She liked reading. Hell, she would’ve been satisfied to simply have her bed closer to the window, just so she could look out over the garden.
But instead, she died with her back against the wall, and his father never bothered to show his wretched face before she took her last breath. To this day, his mother's room remains relatively empty.
His father had ordered her quarters to be closed off and preserved; no one is supposed to be allowed entrance to that wing of the castle, but none of the guards dare raise a complaint to the Crown Prince as he walks past them, the thin stem of a snow-white flower clutched between his quivering fingers.
The doorknob is cold as he pushes the door open.
He's instantly greeted with the scent of fresh flowers—there's a new crystal vase of them on the dresser, the petals perfectly illuminated by the shards of sunlight that stream unhindered through the windows. Every piece of solitary furniture is exactly as he remembers it—a bed, a dresser, a mirror.
Carefully, Shouto lowers himself to his knees at the bedside, running a finger over the bedframe's intricate, knotted wood edge. It's frigid to the touch, he notes—the whole room is, despite the presence of the sunlight.
The position isn't unfamiliar to him. For weeks after she'd passed, he'd return here, burying his tears in her mattress as he chased the remnants of her scent. He never quite caught the last wisps of her; they had already been replaced with the scent of soap, any trace of her scrubbed clean.
After a moment of hesitation, Shouto leans forward, nose brushing silk as he drops the flower onto the mattress. His eyes flutter shut as he presses his cheek into the bed.
The sheets are fresh, he notes, devoid of dust. His father must be more attentive to this room than he cares to admit.
He wishes that he'd had more time to spend with his mother, but his lessons had always taken precedence over everything. Only in the calm of nightfall was he able to find time, but by then he was usually exhausted and inches from sleep. Still, he would ask her things that he couldn't ask anyone else: about the world outside the castle walls, about growing up.
He'd asked her once about her regrets as well. It had been one of the last things he'd been able to ask her.
“I could never regret having you, Shouto,” the Queen murmured. Her fingers stroked gently through his hair, parting fire from snow.
She always seemed most peaceful when her children were around—when she could braid the ends of Fuyumi’s hair or listen to Natsuo read aloud. Even when Touya had been around, he’d wrapped himself beneath his mother’s thick blankets, curled into her side.
Muted sunlight pooled in Shouto’s lap and the wooden floor between his thighs, seated in the corner of the room where his mother was situated in a plush chair.
He looked up, the Queen practically glowing in his sight as she stared wistfully out the window.
“But there are things I wish I had done.”
He doesn't know what kinds of things she wishes she had done, because, if he's being honest with himself, he hadn't even known his mother that well. He'd seen the library and the training fields more times than he'd ever seen her bedroom.
But he'd tried. For all the power that he'd had, he'd tried.
There's a hesitant knock at the door. Shouto turns toward the sound instinctively.
"I apologize for the intrusion, My Prince, but it's almost time to go."
The bedsheets fall out of his grip, settling down soft, soundless.
"Right," he answers, casting a final longing look over the room. "My apologies. I lost track of time."
If he tries hard enough, Shouto can almost imagine the shape of his mother sitting in this bed, sheets hoarded in her lap and a warm smile gracing her lips. She would've greeted him by name, throwing back the blankets and patting the spot next to her.
The doorknob is still cold by the time his fingers wrap over it.
And when he glances back at that four-poster bed with the stark white sheets, all he sees is a cage.
/
One night, Shouto meets you when your pockets are bulging.
He is fourteen years old and approaching you with a raised brow, the summer breeze pleasant and balmy. Your mouth is still full when your gaze flickers to him, a small smile rising to your lips.
"Good evening, My Prince," you greet teasingly.
Shouto shakes his head in faux disapproval, but doesn't comment on the title further; instead, he nods to your pockets. He hasn't seen you with this much food in months.
"You managed to buy all of that?"
Your smile drops—he instantly feels guilty at the reaction. Your shoulders hang, hair falling into a curtain over your face as though you're trying to curl in on yourself and disappear.
"The kids were so hungry today," you admit abjectly, looking away, words fumbling as your teeth sink into the bread once again. "I only took a little. I had to."
Your eyes wander in alarm as you await his reaction—you're tense, like you're waiting for him to call upon the palace guards and imprison you on the spot. And even if he did, it seems like you would be prepared for that outcome.
(You're only eating half of a bread bun, he notices. You'll probably share the rest with Mirko later, too guilt-ridden to even desire a full stomach for yourself.)
Shouto doesn't think of scolding you; he can't manage the thought. All he can think about is the palace kitchen, constantly overflowing and careless in its abundance. That amount of food could probably feed the orphanage for months.
He takes his spot at your side, sighing as he drapes his wrists over the fence railing. You try not to look guilty as you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but your shoulders raise like you're holding your breath.
"I'm sorry," he finally mumbles. Your surprise is written clear over your face. "I wish there was more I could do to help you. My father says I'm not ready to be in charge of the financial ledgers. If I could allocate more gold to the orphanage, then—"
"I'm not expecting you to do that," you say, uneasy. "It's not your fault. Mirko says that if King Enji would give us just a little bit more money, we would be perfectly fine. Instead, he keeps funding projects for nobles to build their third houses."
Shouto thinks that sounds about right. In all of the lessons his father had imparted upon him, he'd been rather clear in his insistence that the Crown Prince cater to the nobles first before anyone else. It's useless to appeal to those who have nothing to offer you in return, he would say.
He sighs. "My dad's a bastard."
You nod. "Him and all those other self-absorbed nobles that you deal with."
You have that sorrowful look, like now he's the object of your pity, and Shouto doesn't understand it at all. You're cold and hungry and emaciated and somehow you still find the time to feel sorry for someone like him, who spends his days wrapped in goose-down blankets and eating lamb chops that slide off the bone.
(He had asked you about it, once. He had been thirteen years old, dragged into the shallow pond out behind the orphanage while the sky was still alight and the weather was still agreeable.
"Why do you feel bad for me?" he asked.
"It seems suffocating," you admitted. "I wouldn't want to live like that either.")
He fishes around in his pocket, presenting you with a small slice of chantilly cake wrapped in thin parchment paper. It's half-crushed from its journey, but the scent of sugar makes your mouth water nonetheless—a sharp breath slips past your lips at the sight of the fattened berries and fresh cream.
"Here," Shouto says. You look at him again for confirmation, and once he nods, your hand closes around it—too tight, the shape of your fingers carving themselves into the cake.
He watches you eat in silence, a soft smile tugging at the edges of his lip. The voracity with which you eat is only a reflection of your hunger—Shouto wonders how long you've held back on account of the other children. Your appetite surely wouldn't be satiated by a single piece of bread.
"Sorry," you gasp after a moment, as if just remembering that he was standing there next to you. You hurry to rub the crumbs away from your mouth, but it only leaves a smear of cream over your chin. Shouto laughs lowly, shaking his head as he wipes the remnants away with his thumb.
Your stare melts into him, jaw dropping just slightly.
"Surely they teach manners in the orphanage too?" he jokes in a whisper, much to your chagrin.
"Of course they do!" you huff, too loud, turning away. Shouto has to fight the urge to chase that flustered expression on your face. "Probably way better than whatever they're teaching you in the castle—I was just hungry."
"Right, right," he agrees. He presses a thoughtful finger to his chin. "All they teach us nobles in the castle is, hm, what is it that you always say? 'How to suck our own dicks?'"
He mumbles it in an entirely serious tone that has you choking on a gasp, slapping at his shoulder. "Don't say that! You're the Crown Prince, they would lob my head off if they knew you learned that kind of thing from me!"
You're being dramatic, but the thought is sobering for a moment. Shouto genuinely wonders what would happen if the castle discovered that he had been meeting you like this. Would he be able to protect you from the fallout? Or would you suffer for the rest of your life, simply for the crime of knowing him? The fact that he can't seem to arrive at a distinct answer only has him worrying more.
Confusion reflects in your eyes as he grasps your shoulders, a serious expression on his face.
"I'll be the King who saves you," he says, an aching undercurrent to his voice. "If you can wait, I'll make sure that the orphanage is taken care of. I promise."
Even he himself is shocked by the declaration—once the words leave his mouth, he's embarrassed by the drama of them, like he's about to go off to war and disappear. He can feel the blush blooming over his cheeks, and he wants to look away but there's something sticking in his stare—the soft awe that reflects in your eyes, lips barely parting as you reply.
"Okay," you murmur, "I promise I'll wait then. We'll save each other."
It's Shouto's turn to look surprised—his head tilts, brow furrowing.
"Each other? You don't have to save me."
"But could I?" you offer, feather-soft. His heart pulses like fireworks in his chest. "If I wanted to, could I?"
(Shouto will consider your question for years afterward, right up until you disappear.
You couldn't, he will think, bitter. Neither of us kept our promise.)
/
"Your Highness, is the food not to your taste?"
The chef's smooth voice is cautious, as if already sensing the lit fuse in the prince's chest.
Shouto pauses, his fork scraping unpleasantly against the fine china dish—the sound reverberates through the near-empty dining room, the long table lined with empty place settings.
"It's fine," he replies evenly, pointedly avoiding Fuyumi's stare from across the wide table. He hadn't had even the slightest appetite when he woke up, so feigning a meal had been his only option. "I'm just feeling a bit under the weather this morning."
Natsuo barely even seems to notice the conversation, too absorbed in scarfing down his vegetables. Most days, the older prince seems to prioritize getting away from family meals as quickly as possible.
Today, the head of the table sits vacant, the King himself away on business. If he had been here, Shouto is quite sure that Natsuo wouldn't have made an appearance at all.
"Oh, Your Highness," the chef hovers, peering over the high-backed chair. "Should I have someone fetch the doctor? It'd be best if he could take a look—"
Shouto can practically feel the man breathing down his neck; his face twists in irritation as he shoves his chair back from the table, an ugly creak resounding through the room.
The chef yelps and hops out of the way, and suddenly Fuyumi is standing as well, tossing her cloth napkin onto the table.
"Shouto—"
"I'm not hungry," he hisses out, making for the doors at the end of the hall. He can already feel a headache sprouting in the space between his brows. "Tell the royal advisor that I would like to be left alone this morning. I won't be attending any appointments today."
The chef splutters, glancing at Fuyumi for aid. She sighs in frustration as Shouto slips out.
"I'm sorry, I'll go after him," he hears, the words slightly muted through the walls. "Natsuo, you finish your meal. I'll be right back."
He picks up his pace, hands curling into fists. He doesn't need to hear whatever Fuyumi has to say about his father's ridiculous plot—honestly, he can't fathom how she manages to interact with the wretched man with any semblance of civility.
He's halfway down the hall when the doors burst open.
"Shouto!" Fuyumi calls, shoes clacking against the marble floor. "Shouto, stop! How could you act like that? He was just worried about you—"
A gruff, frustrated sound bursts from his throat; he has no desire to listen to Fuyumi's scolding. Turning sharply, he shoves past the first set of doors that he can find.
It's one of the many parlour rooms that line this specific wing of the castle, a place to retire with guests after enjoying a meal together. Shouto hasn't spent much time here, considering he never receives guests in the first place.
Just as he anticipated, Fuyumi follows him inside a few seconds later, panting from the exertion of her sprint. She regards the sight of him—sitting on the small sofa, wrists draped loosely over his knees as he hunches over.
"Shouto, why are you acting like this?" she demands, hands on her hips. She exhales slowly through her nose, awaiting an answer that never comes; Shouto doesn't even spare her a glance. "Is this because of what Dad told you? He thought you'd be happy, you know. I know a lot of what he did is unforgivable, but this is just his way of making amends—"
Shouto scoffs. "He acts like letting me choose my own wife is some noble deed that overrides every single thing he put us through," he spits, shaking his head in disgust. "But what about Mom? And Touya? When will they ever get to make amends? He killed them—"
"Dad didn't kill them—"
Fuyumi flinches as he whirls on her, suddenly enraged.
"How can you even call him Dad? Knowing what he did to Mom? And Touya? And," his teeth sting as he sucks in a breath, "and me?"
He still vividly recalls the bite of the King's slap, the crack of knuckles across his face. The power of a King is not in his tenderness, but in his authority—that's what he had been told all his life. But he has no desire to be a King like his father; he wants to reject that side of him completely.
The sofa tilts as Fuyumi takes a seat at his side, subdued.
"I…just don't want to live hating anyone anymore," she mumbles. "If we could be a real family again, that would be the best outcome, for me. I know that maybe you don't feel that way, but that's just how I've always seen things, I suppose."
Shouto can't hate her for it. She hadn't been the object of his father's obsession, not like he and Touya had.
"…I see."
"But once you're King, it'll be up to you, Shouto. He doesn't have to control you anymore if you don't want him to. You can choose a wife who will make you happy, and you can live how you want—"
He swallows hard. "I can't."
"What do you mean?"
His lungs are squeezing. His fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, and it still isn't enough to ground him—his mind is floating elsewhere, into a memory of you where you're taking his hand and the breeze is warm.
"The one person who was supposed to be my wife…isn't an option anymore."
Fuyumi's gaze softens. "You mean…"
She doesn't dare say your name, not that she has to—Shouto reacts nonetheless, squeezing at his heart, trying to catch his breath. There are eyes glowing in the dark of his mind, watchful.
"It was supposed to be her. I know it was supposed to be her, it's still supposed to be her."
He collapses to his knees, his fingers finding purchase in the plush carpet. Fuyumi quickly kneels with him, shocked; her hand lands over his spine, stroking slowly up and down.
There had been time. If he'd really tried and fought for you, you could've been engaged years ago, even before you disappeared. But he'd been too much of a coward to try.
"But this castle is a prison," he whispers. "How could I do that to her? Keep her here? Trapped? Like…"
He thinks of that four-poster bed, of the pristine room, near empty.
Fuyumi tenses at his side, obviously anticipating it even before he brokenly continues:
"Like Mom?"
It can't be you, but it can't be anyone else either. He's not so callous as to commit a different innocent girl to the same fate—a loveless marriage, shackles disguised as wedding rings. He can't be yours, but he won't be his father's, either.
Fuyumi's gaze is aimless as it rests on his face; Shouto somehow feels as though she's looking right through him. It makes him wish that Touya was still here, still in-line for the throne, but the only way that would be possible is if he had never been born.
(Vaguely, he thinks that that might not have been so bad.)
"She wouldn't be trapped. She would've been with you. If that was what you wanted, you could protect her."
"But the castle—"
"—is only a reflection of its King," Fuyumi finishes, barely a whisper. "But that can change, Shouto. You can change, if you wanted to."
He begins to wonder if that's true, if any part of him has really changed since he was young. He'd always desired to rebel against his dad, but he'd never succeeded in any meaningful way; if anything, he'd only ever yielded to his father's wishes, too cowardly to toss away his title.
(He settles on the conclusion that he can't change. Not without you.
So Fuyumi can only watch as her youngest brother crumbles, alone despite the presence of her.)
/
Todoroki Shouto is sixteen years old when he first celebrates the Emberwake Festival.
Frankly, his father's birthday isn't a day he typically honors, especially not in the way that the kingdom's citizens do—with food stalls and lanterns and dancing. He reasons that they don't know what his father is like behind closed doors, so he can't blame them for capitalizing on the holiday of their King. But based on his own experiences with the man, he would never consider it an occasion worth commemoration.
Only by your insistence had he even considered attending, after all.
So his father doesn't come to mind at all as he wanders the festival, a dark cloak pulled over his recognizable head of hair and your hand clutched in his. You have the air of someone who's experienced in this area, expertly weaving through the crowd as you point out your favorite stalls and activities.
"Ooh, this one has great candied apples. They're really expensive, but they're so sweet and yummy. Miss Mirko let us split one once," you explain brightly, glancing back out of the corner of your eye. Despite your past encounters, you have a child-like awe in your gaze, as though the entire festival is something fresh and novel. "Sorry, I know I've been talking your ear off. What do you think so far?"
Shouto hums. "It's…loud."
Your smile grows wider, eyes crinkling at the edges. "I know, it always is. Is it too much? We can go somewhere else."
He shakes his head. "No. If this is what it's always like, then I want to experience it like this. I want to…do things how you usually do them."
You look excited at the prospect of that, like he'd lit a fuse under you. With renewed vigor, you drag him through all the food stalls, pointing out grilled skewers of meat and vegetables and little cream-filled crepes. When you pass by a store selling paper lanterns, you buy one and resolve to send it off together.
("They're meant to be wishes for the King," you explain, taking a brush and dipping it in a spare pot of ink. "Since he never attends the Festival, he can see them from the castle. I'm sure you've seen them before."
"Yeah. But what should we write? To my dad?"
It takes a while for you to settle on something, the both of you too absorbed in brainstorming the worst curses that you can possibly think of.
In the end, you settle on something simple like "Fuck you.")
The further you lead him into the festival, the louder the music gets. When you finally emerge into the town square, there's a whirlwind of lithe bodies and smiling faces passing through his vision. They're engaging in some sort of folk dance around the fountain, bystanders clapping and cheering to the rhythm of the song.
You turn back to him, grinning.
"They teach you to dance back at the castle?" you ask. Shouto looks at you with mild alarm, like he can already tell where you're heading with this line of questioning.
"Somewhat. Mostly court dances, formal things like the Waltz."
You hum appreciatively. "Were you good?"
A thoughtful pause passes before Shouto replies. "No, not at all. I think my tutor's exact words were something like 'two left legs' and 'my ancient grandmother could do better', but—"
"Right," you wince. "I think I get the idea."
You guide him to a quieter offshoot of the square—a small alleyway that leads to a dove-topped fountain, spitting a slow trickle of water. Even from here, the festivities and music are easily audible, though there are fewer people milling about.
"Here, this is perfect," you urge, shuffling him into the right position, standing just across from you. Shouto looks at you like a fish out of water, posture stick-straight as he awaits further instruction.
The song picks up again, and you walk him through each step, looping your arm with his.
He starts out unbelievably stiff, but his tension seems to gradually melt away the longer that you teach him. You're laughing, the heady scent of smoke and incense clings to the air, and the music is so loud that he thinks his eardrums might burst, but Shouto can't help but take a deep breath and enjoy it—not as a Prince, but as the person standing by your side.
Even when the song ends, dancers and bystanders alike breaking into thunderous applause, he's only interested in the way with which you clap and cheer for him.
"Great job!" you pant, a sheen of sweat over your forehead. "But your cloak fell a little while we were dancing, so—"
Shouto catches your wrist when you move to readjust the hood over his hair, face inches away from yours; you swallow thickly at the act, caught in the web of his stare. It's tender and soft as it paths over your features, like the slow drag of a flower petal.
You cough. "You—"
He releases you before you can say another word.
"Can we go somewhere quieter?" he asks, sighing. "I think I've had enough music for a day."
Even so far from the festivities, the pond's still surface reflects the sparking glow of the lanterns overhead. Shouto watches them, like a procession of swirling koi, the lines of them distorted by distance.
The orphanage windows are winking out one-by-one, the younger children being put to bed. You tell him that with such a fondness that Shouto wonders if you can really stand to leave the place once you turn eighteen.
"I'm surprised you've been to the festival so many times," he says to you absentmindedly, dragging a finger through the water. It ripples under his touch, splitting the lanterns into a million tiny shards of stars.
"Why?"
"I thought you hated my dad."
You shrug, taking a bite of the apple that hangs loose between your fingers. "I do. But the festival feels so far removed from him that I can still enjoy it. It's not like he attends, anyway."
Shouto nods slowly. Because of his father's influence, he'd never imagined that he would be doing something like this. He wonders about it, sometimes—what it might be like to really be your companion, to be freed of all his royal responsibilities and simply be a sixteen-year-old boy.
"Have you ever kissed someone before?"
The question catches you off-guard—you instantly choke, spluttering and coughing as Shouto pats your back with wide eyes. When your airways clear, you turn to him with near-horror on your face.
"Why would you ask something like that? All of a sudden?"
He looks genuinely unsettled at your reaction, treading into uncertainty. "Is that not the kind of thing that people talk about at this age?"
You sometimes forget how little Shouto really knows of people your age; he's likely more familiar with stuck-up nobles three times his senior who only really care about putting in a good word with him for their own personal interests. Whatever topic he reckons to discuss with you is likely the result of something he read or conjectural maid-driven gossip.
"No, no, it is," you admit, giggling. Shouto merely stares, completely enraptured with the sound of your voice. "I guess it's just not the kind of thing that I thought that you would talk about."
He looks slightly proud at that, shoulders sitting straighter as if he had surpassed your expectations. "I know things."
Your face twists like you're holding back a laugh, but it doesn't work for long; soon enough, you're nearly cackling your lungs out, clutching at your stomach and flicking tears away from the corners of your eyes.
"You're funny, Prince," you gasp, the last few giggles crawling from your throat.
Shouto's expression is impassive as he replies, "Shouto."
"What?"
He frowns. "You can just call me Shouto."
The offer seems to freeze the breath in your lungs, your eyes wide.
You look down, lashes fluttering—his gaze is drawn to the gossamer delicacy of the movement. He's seen you in just about every light by now, but he thinks he likes this one the most; the lantern light is fluid and dim, accentuating the curve and line of your face.
He shifts closer to you, grass tickling his palms, and you suck in a breath through your teeth. Your hands naturally find their way to his cheeks, thumb tracing his jaw. His breath mixes with yours, pupils blown wide with interest.
"Prince—"
"Shouto," he murmurs against you. Your hands are still cradling his face, and he curls his fingers over your wrists just as he presses his lips against yours.
There are things that he'd never been taught in the castle. How to make a friend, for one, a real one. He'd only been taught certain social skills, though those were primarily related to finalizing alliances and navigating meetings with foreign dignitaries. Skipping stones had also been a mystery to him before he met you. Maybe everything had.
And kissing. Kissing had certainly never been covered in his daily lessons.
But his lips move against yours, and it's as easy as breathing air.
His heart is beating wildly out of his chest, the tips of his ears are molten hot, and your hands are pressed so firmly against his jaw that he's sure your fingertips will remain imprinted there. But it feels good, it feels right, and Shouto finds himself growing addicted to the sensation of you.
For a moment, his kiss grows more fervent, but your grip coils into the edge of his cloak to gently ease him back, your breath fanning hot over his face.
"No need to rush, Shouto," you murmur, his name on your lips like a reverent prayer. "It's a holiday. We have all the time in the world."
Todoroki Shouto returns to the castle at dawn with your warmth etched into his veins, into his very heartbeat.
(He does not know that this will be the last time.)
/
Shouto thinks that the First Crown Prince, Todoroki Touya, had simply been unlucky to be born to someone like his father.
Even before the cold January night of the Third Prince's birth, there had been rumors, whispers throughout the kingdom—gossip offered over breakfast tables, over bar tops.
King Enji had been unable to provide a sufficient explanation for why the lands began to fail. The people first felt the consequences in the loose hang of their clothes, in the tightening of their pockets. Backs were turned on family, on friends, on the royal family themselves.
Only by the whispers of forked tongues could the people find sufficient means to pass the hollow times.
"It must be Crown Prince Touya," they said, quiet exchanges occurring in taverns and shop stalls. "Once King Enji declared him the heir, everything went to shit. The gods reject him."
"Well, he inherited none of King Enji's power. His hair is snow-white—even Princess Fuyumi's shows a bit of red."
Shouto's birth was the auspicious sign they had been waiting for—red-and-white hair, and blue and grey eyes. He was the perfect son of the formidable King and the graceful Queen. Touya's throne was ripped away in the span of a few days, his name not only forgotten but cursed.
He would disappear before Shouto turned six, leaving nothing but a scar on his brother's face.
The daylight sun is warm, but it does nothing to quell the chill in Shouto's bones as he proceeds through the town square.
He rides alongside his father at the head of the parade, sitting atop a brilliant white horse. Natsuo and Fuyumi are somewhere at the end, though he's unsure where—he'd barely caught a glance of the two before his father herded him away, rambling about his own personal brand of nonsense as usual.
The town square is only this quiet during Crownfall; there are only whispers and widened eyes that follow his movements, a blanket of melancholy settling over the place. Some are praying, while some simply watch the King with rapt attention. The crowd parts as they pass, a sea of people clambering over each other just to catch a glimpse of him, of his father.
All of it is suffocating.
It is a spectacle disguised as a mourning parade.
His father directs him to dismount in front of the Grand Fountain, an intricate statue of King Enji and his late wife staring aimlessly overhead. Shouto finds his gaze lingers over his mother's face for a few moments too long, bottom lip snagged under his teeth.
(They didn't carve her eyes right, he thinks bitterly. The statue looks nothing like how he remembers her.)
Though the parade happens yearly, it's the first time that the King has placed Shouto in charge of providing the opening remarks. It doesn't make much sense, when he really thinks about it—Fuyumi and Natsuo had been far closer with Touya and his mother than he ever had. King Enji had made sure of that, after all.
But Shouto accepts his duty nonetheless, stepping forward into the sunlight, into the waiting gazes of the gathered crowd. They look to him in reverent silence, and the sight has his mouth feeling like sand.
He can't truthfully say anything about Touya—not because he hates his brother, but because he knows nothing about him at all. His mother had told him that Touya was kind, but misguided, though anyone else might've said differently. Shouto isn't sure who his brother really was in the first place.
Still, his father had given him a script and he'd rehearsed it well enough, so he clears his throat in preparation to deliver a speech that is befitting a future King.
"My Prince!"
There's a sudden commotion. The crowd is crying out, surging forward in panic, and Shouto's hand jumps to his chest, curling into his sash. The guards look confused—they convene on King Enji first, desperate to protect the monarch. Shouto takes a step forward to join them.
Suddenly, an older woman seizes him tightly by the arm; he gasps sharply at the intrusion. Her breath is sour, teeth yellowed and rotting, but what draws his attention the most are her eyes—milky and unseeing.
"My Prince," she hisses, a hand latching onto his shoulder, weighing down the fabric of his cape. "Please, please, you must help us. My village has been without food and water for months—"
It's only another half-second before she is harshly wrenched away by the lingering guards, a series of shouts and protests finally reaching Shouto's ears. Only when her touch leaves him does he manage to suck in a breath, frozen in his own shock. The rasping, familiar sound of a blade being drawn echoes through the square.
Shouto's brow furrows, his instincts forcing him forward. "Leave her! She's an elder, she meant no harm to me."
No one seems to hear him among the general commotion—the guards are pushing the rest of the citizens back, leaving a wide, empty radius around the fountain, and people are tripping and shoving each other in the chaos. The yelling doesn't cease for a single moment.
One of the guards speaks aloud, shoving the older woman to her knees.
"By the law of this land, you have been sentenced to death for treason against His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Todoroki Shouto, heir to the throne."
Frost unfurls in Shouto's chest; he steps forward, angered disapproval already edging off the tip of his tongue when someone grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him back. The guards surge forward to surround the woman as he stumbles, nearly tripping over his cape in the chaos. The wreath of black flowers that had been so delicately woven into his hair flutters uselessly to the ground, crushed underfoot.
He whips around, teeth bared. "What are you—"
"Stop, Shouto," King Enji demands, bruising grip tightening onto his arm. Shouto winces at the feeling, trying to shake his hand away. "Let them carry out the law."
"She didn't even do anything—"
"She had the nerve to grab the heir of our kingdom with her filthy hand," the King hisses. "That means nothing to you?! She could've killed you."
With one last unrelenting tug, Shouto pulls himself away from his father, eyes ablaze. "She was telling me her concerns. She was desperate, you have no idea what she said to me."
A vein bulges from the King's forehead. "You still don't understand anything. I won't have the future king acting in such a flippant manner."
A scream rings out, and a wet thud follows—Shouto tries to turn back to the old woman, but she’s too enclosed by the guards to be seen. Despair hollows out his chest, and suddenly his mother's stone gaze feels judgmental and weighted.
I'll be the King who saves you.
Somehow, he feels that such a choice was never his to desire.
Everything is numb—the heat of his father's grip, the screams that sting at his ears, the sunlight that pricks at his eyes. King Enji's voice sounds again, a low rumble from his chest. It's barely audible against the cacophony of the crowd, but Shouto hears it nonetheless.
He no longer has the energy to fight back.
"You will be King, Shouto," the King says, a declaration that has the Crown Prince fighting the urge to vomit. "There is no one but you."
/
Shouto is seventeen when he loses everything.
His father tells him that he will be King within the next five years. It's still a sizable wait, all things considered, but he is on the precipice of fulfilling his promises to you. It will have been a long time coming.
He throws himself into his studies, hoping that maybe he can ascend to the throne even sooner. Even when it makes him sick, he yields to his father's wishes and acts as the son he's always desired. He sees you less and less because of that, but he figures you'll understand his absence the moment that he has enough power to provide for you.
He'll never get the chance to explain that to you.
When his eyelids drag open that morning, there is no sunlight to greet him—the window across from his bed remains darkened and silent. A flurry of footsteps races past his door; the muted sound of horns becomes audible in the distance, and Shouto sits up, tossing his blankets aside.
The hallway is alight—armored guards are hurrying in either direction, leaving Shouto completely unnoticed as he steps out of his room. He makes it to the Great Hall before anyone stops him, the marble floor freezing against his bare feet.
"Your Highness! Prince Shouto!"
Turning at the sound of his name, a Guard Commander greets him, the insignia of the royal family emblazoned over his cape. Shouto waves him away when the man bends at the waist, bowing deeply.
"Forget the pleasantries," he urges, glancing around at the ongoing commotion. "What's going on?"
The Commander rises back to full height, looking solemn.
"That old orphanage near the South end of the castle burned down, with all the kids still in it."
In Shouto's mind, each word is practically in slow motion—he watches the older man's lips, each exaggerated syllable like another dagger to his heart. He finds it impossible to even comprehend the meaning of the words.
"All of them?" he chokes out.
"All the caretakers, too. No survivors at all." The older man shrugs as he says it, completely unaware of the abyssal cavity that carves itself into Shouto's chest. "We're glad the castle walls weren't damaged and you're safe, My Prince. The fire was so huge and it's so close by—"
"Are you sure?" Something in Shouto's chest bares its teeth; his fingers are curling into the Commander's collar before he can stop himself, bringing them practically nose-to-nose. "Are you sure there were no survivors? Don't tell me what you think, tell me what you know."
The guard nods blankly, shocked at the outburst. "Yes, My Prince. We searched every bit of those ashes. No one would have gotten out of that alive."
Bile rises quick up Shouto's throat; without another word, he shoves past the doorway, a palm forced over his mouth, his other hand clutching his stomach.
No survivors at all.
Someone grasps for his shoulder; he barrels straight through them, ignoring the calls of his name. He takes a wrong turn down the hall, tears blurring his eyes, and has to turn back. Everything dims into faded, indistinct shapes, a dizzying array of unfamiliar colors. He bumps into a side table, sending the vase sitting on top crashing to the ground.
A prince is strong.
(Shouto’s legs give out the moment he steps into his bedroom. He doesn’t manage to catch himself, and his spine crumples painfully as he slides against the solid wood of his door.)
A prince is brave.
(He wonders if you were afraid—if you were in pain when the flames first licked at your skin, if the hopelessness rendered you motionless within the blaze.)
A prince is collected, educated, and self-assured.
(He cries so hard that his pillowcase soaks through completely, his chest burns, and his throat twists in a silent scream. He cries until his shirt is soiled with his own vomit, then cries until his eyelids are too swollen to open.)
At first light, he tears past the castle hedges, the honed branches flinging back across his cheek, across his arm—it leaves a trail of blood in its wake. He doesn't feel it, not yet, not until he rushes to that familiar place—your familiar place—stains of dried tear tracks glimmering in lamp light.
He hopes for a lie. Some sort of elaborate prank that the entire castle had been in on, aiming to catch him unaware. It would've been cruel, but kinder than this reality—a reality in which you are gone, and he has nowhere left to turn.
Shouto is seventeen years old when you're reduced to ash, and his entire world along with it.
He is still seventeen when falls to his knees before his father's throne, forehead pressed to the blood-red carpet.
His teeth are gritted so tightly that he thinks he may never smile again, and his stomach is churning despite his lack of breakfast. The advisors exchange hurried whispers, unsettled by the sight of their future King looking so pitiful.
"Raise your head, Shouto," King Enji demands, an air of confusion in his posture. His fingers are curled white-knuckled over the armrests of the throne. "I don't understand your obsession with pursuing this."
"There's someone I'm looking for," Shouto pants. The sweat that clings to the back of his neck cools fast in the freezing room. "Please give me something. Anything. Any resources you give me, I will use. Please let me do this. I promise I will take care of it on my own."
"Begging is unbecoming of a King," King Enji says.
"I'm not a King yet," Shouto answers.
Todoroki Shouto is seventeen, still just a Prince, when he curls like a child at the feet of his father.
(He will send out search parties into the surrounding forests, and when they come up with nothing, he will send them out further. Neighboring kingdoms will receive correspondence with a sketch of you attached and a clear instruction to contact Prince Todoroki Shouto should they ever catch a glimpse of your face.
For years, Shouto will stop every courier he sees and ask them if they've heard anything. He will try to ignore the pitying smile on their faces as they shake their heads.
Nothing will ever come of it, but Shouto will never stop hoping. Even when no one else does.)
/
Even as the coronation date grows inevitably closer, Shouto will feel no excitement or anticipation, only loneliness.
Even when his father begins to soften at the edges, words of regret leaping from his tongue, Shouto will be unable to forgive him.
Even though his efforts bear no fruit, Shouto will continue to dream of you for seven years.
/
Prince Todoroki Shouto is twenty-four years old when he first sees a ghost.
The coronation date is set. His father is looking at him with proud, rapturous eyes and his mother's grave is still cold. He's forgotten the sound of Touya's voice and he hasn't seen Natsuo or Fuyumi in weeks.
In other words, nothing went the way he wanted it to. He had resolved a long time ago to be the kind of prince who saves, and he had failed in every regard. Even now, he's unsure if he will ever be a King of worthy measure. He's a man in false, gilded robes, the silk traitorous against his skin.
But his fate has been written for him since he was born. Every single person who could've changed this outcome is gone, and Shouto isn't strong enough alone. His entire life he's simply been carried along the current of others' whims, dazzled by the idea of his own distorted strength.
It's hard not to drown in that anguish when there's no one left to tell him otherwise.
He returns to the former orphanage, the land now razed grey and black, a flat patch of ashes. A stone memorial sits in the center of the lot, but nothing else—it had been destroyed so completely, so thoroughly that it borders on intentional. The pond has been dried and emptied, reduced to a meaningless trench in the ground.
This time, he isn't hiding. His father had allowed him to come here alone, hoping the experience would be the final flame necessary to burn away the parts of him still bound here.
And perhaps it would've been. He wonders if something deep inside of him had been prepared to let go of you—coming here had simply been his final resolution in that process. To witness your final resting place, and then release you completely.
(He wonders if he hadn't been the only one cursed by your memory this whole time.
Had you been able to rest soundly, knowing that he suffered at the thought of you? Or were you just another person that he had touched and ruined?)
A shadow thins in the distance, moving to leave—Shouto follows it without meaning to, simply drawn to the motion in the stillness. And he sees it then: the line and curve of a familiar face.
"Stop!"
His demand is desperate, bordering on hopelessness—he convinces himself that he must be dreaming. There is no feasible way that you could be standing in front of him right now.
It's a true, full-bodied scream, the likes of which he has rarely heard from his own mouth. Princes are collected. They should not yell—their authority should speak in place of a scream. But Shouto still yells, because it's you, and you've never been one to consider the authority of a noble as something worthy of merit.
You take another few steps, each one slower, like you're being weighed down by the gravity of his stare. Finally, you come to a complete stop on the other end of the empty pond.
He feels like he could crumble. Time stops, the rhythm of his heartbeat freezing alongside it—when he draws a breath, it hurts.
His expression is that of a man laid bare as he murmurs, “You…I searched—I looked for you for years. I…I did everything I could to find you. Even when no one believed me, I looked for you. They said no one survived, the fire was so hot, they said you must’ve become…”
Ash, he wants to say. Dust. A constant sting in the back of his throat, a lump of guilt and regret.
But each of those words is a blazing coal so painful that all he manages to whisper is, “Gone. They said you were gone.”
Your smile is bitter. Shouto doesn't know what to make of it, make of you, and it hurts, because he swears that there was a time when he could easily pick apart every single piece of your expressions. And even if he couldn't, you would've told him yourself.
"I was gone," you reply, looking down at your feet. "Maybe just not in the way that you thought I was."
You toe at a patch on the ground like it'll burrow you out of here and away from this memory. He hates that you look so distraught at being here, when all he's dreamt of for the past seven years is standing in front of you again.
Did you not dream of me the way I dreamt of you?
“You were the first person I ever yelled at,” he whispers, nearly sobs, and suddenly he’s thirteen years old again, swimming in this pond with his shirt soaked through and bangs sticking to his forehead. Your eyes are glowing in the dark and his heart is so unbearably hot in his chest that he thinks it will leave scorch marks on his lungs. "You…you called me Shouto—"
"I did," you agree quietly, shame written over your face. "Back then, I did."
Back then, you say. As if it had all occurred in another plane of existence entirely. As if he hadn't agonized over the memory for years, hadn't shed countless tears over the thought of your smile. You had always been his last inhibition.
You take a step back, and he takes one forward. All that's left to ask is:
"Why?" Your eyes flutter shut when his voice cracks, a pained twist in your expression. "Why didn't you come back?"
A few moments pass; you're not replying and he can't stand it. A vicious blend of anger and despair wells up in his chest, and he lets it build until it tastes like acid on his tongue.
"Answer me!" he demands, throat raw.
(It reminds him of his father's voice. He hates that, too.)
Your lip quivers as you murmur, "Because I was the only one left."
Shouto watches as you sway where you stand, nearly unearthed by the soft force of the wind, the memory sapping the strength from your legs. The breath that you suck between your teeth is audible.
"I said all those things about saving those kids and how useless the royal family was, and yet…I was there and I couldn't do anything for them. I was there and yet I was the only one who survived. I was there and they—they burned anyway. All of them. Except me. I couldn't face you after that, not with a version of me that was so…"
Pathetic, you want to say. Inadequate. False-hearted and weak.
But it's too difficult to face those blue and grey eyes that are looking at you with subdued hope, so all you manage to whisper is, "Sad. I…I became a different person after that. You wouldn't have recognized me anyway. You wouldn't have been able to become King with someone like me holding you back."
Shouto steps forward, one hand curled over his heartbeat. "I would've," he declares, voice unsteady. "I would've recognized you anywhere. You could've come back to me as dust and I still would've known. And…I would've welcomed any version of you. Even if you were sad, even if you were different. Because it was you."
He mourned Touya when he was six, his mother when he was ten, and you when he was seventeen and every year after that. He has swallowed enough grief for a lifetime, and his heart is so bursting that even another drop of despair will leave him ruptured, he's sure.
He cannot be ruptured. He will not.
Shouto closes the distance between you, and you don't stop him even when he takes your hand in his. He's warmer than he used to be, you note. His skin is hot and his eyes are ablaze and he looks nothing like he did when you first met.
"I'll be King soon," he tells you weakly, nearly an afterthought. "I'll do everything in my power. I'll be a King who saves you. If you trust me, I can give you everything."
"Your Highness—"
"Shouto. For you, it's Shouto."
Hesitant, you shake your head. "It was Shouto—"
"It is," he insists. "You can call me whatever you wish, but please don't walk away from me again."
It's your turn to look like you've seen a ghost—you look conflicted and lost, unable to contend with the sight of a man so changed from what you knew.
This version of Todoroki Shouto will be King. He is strong. He is brave. He is collected, educated, and self-assured. He is the boy that you loved for the formative years of your life, the one that you missed for every second you were gone, and the man you will love for every moment after.
Shouto holds you. He's taller and broader than he was when you last knew him, and that only makes you feel safer. He holds you, and you feel like you're six years old again, poking at dandelions under the watchful moon.
(Todoroki Shouto is twenty-four years old when he becomes the Prince who saves you.)
/
Todoroki Shouto becomes King the day after he turns twenty-five.
Your hand is clasped in his, and you're smiling. You're healthy and well-fed and well-loved by everyone in the kingdom. You visit his mother's grave and tell her about her son's childhood escapades and misdeeds, a mischievous smile on your face. You pray by Touya's grave and you hug Fuyumi when you see her in the mornings. You play chess with Natsuo sometimes and you pout when you lose.
Shouto watches this, and it makes the crown on his head far more bearable.
The gold at your disposal is enough to fund every orphanage in the kingdom; the children that you sponsor will want for nothing. You want for nothing. You ensure that every citizen in the kingdom is taken care of, rich or poor.
King Todoroki Shouto is twenty-five when he saves you for the second time. And he is happy.
(You had saved him in every year of his life since he was six years old. He never tells you that, but he thinks it one night as he lies awake next to you, one arm draped over your waist. His heart beats in time with yours and he can't help but smile at how peaceful you look when you sleep.
So the moon draws across the sky, and King Todoroki Shouto watches you in silence.)
Whenever he talks to someone, his eyes stay locked onto theirs with such focus that it feels like he’s trying to memorize every blink. He’d been told once, very seriously by his friends, that “eye contact means you’re listening,” and Todoroki, being Todoroki, took that as an absolute rule of human communication. So now he listened with his whole soul. With his eyes wide, steady, and completely unblinking (he still did, it’s just unnoticeable).
And somehow, you had become the person he stared at the most.
He was staring.
Well aware of it.
“So,” you said, scribbling something down in your notebook, “I think I absolutely bombed that written quiz today.”
“You scored well,” Todoroki replied calmly.
You paused, peeking up at him through your lashes. His eyes were already on you, steady as ever, the contrast of grey and blue catching the light. It still made your heart skip in the tiniest, most annoying way.
“…Did you already see our scores?” you asked.
He blinked once.
“Yes.”
“You could’ve at least let me be dramatic for a little longer.”
“I apologize.”
You laughed softly—and the sound brought a sense of ease to him as you shook your head. “You’re weird, you know that?”
Todoroki tilted his head just a little, still not finding anything wrong with what he was doing. “Is that a negative evaluation of my behavior?”
You snorted. “See? That. That right there.”
He considered that in silence, his gaze never leaving your face. The longer he stared, the more self-aware he noticed you became. You shifted slightly on the couch, the pen slowing in your fingers. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly—more like standing in warm sunlight that you weren’t sure you deserved.
“…You’re doing it again,” you hummed.
“Doing what?” he asked.
“The staring.” You gestured between your eyes and his. “Do you ever blink when you talk to me?”
Todoroki blinked, as if on cue. Once. Slowly. Then, you resumed staring without any interruption. “I’m listening,” he says, like it’s common sense.
“I know, I know,” you said, smiling despite yourself. “I just—sometimes it feels like you’re looking straight through me. Burning through my skull.”
“That would be inefficient,” Todoroki said seriously. “I am looking at you.”
Your smile grew fonder and a little shy.
“Yeah. I noticed.”
Outside, the distant sounds of training echoed faintly through open windows, but in the room it felt like your own small world. Todoroki noted how you went back to tapping your pen, pretending to focus on your notes, though you were keenly aware of his gaze on your face, your hands, and every tiny movement you made.
And unknown to him, a mischievous thought crossed your mind.
“You know,” you initiated casually, without looking up, “if you keep staring at me like that, I might just fall for you.”
Todoroki’s eyes widened a fraction.
“…Fall?”
You finally looked up at him, cheeks fighting inner demons from holding in a smile. “It’s a figure of speech. I mean, like, romantically?”
“Oh.” He processed this quietly. “Would you be injured?”
Your pen slipped from your fingers and clattered onto the notebook.
“What?”
“You said you might fall,” he explained, brows knitting together with sincere concern. “If you are injured, I could escort you to Recovery Girl.”
For a split second, you stared at him in disbelief. Then you burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained as you bent forward, clutching your stomach. “Todoroki—oh my god—I don’t mean literally fall!”
His expression softened at the sound of your laughter. It always did. The tension in his shoulders eased, and though he didn’t quite understand the joke, he understood that you were happy. That was enough, he thinks.
“You laugh often when you speak metaphorically,” he noted.
“Because you take everything so literally,” you managed between giggles. “It’s part of your charm. Even if you don’t mean it to be.”
“Charm?”
You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye with your handkerchief, still smiling at him. Your eyes met again—yours bright with amusement, his focused and earnest. “Yeah. You’re strangely charming.”
He held your gaze, heart thudding just a little faster than usual. “…I’m glad.”
Silence fell upon you two again, but the silence felt different now—softer, warmer, more comfortable. You retrieved your pen, though you didn’t return to writing. Instead, you rested your chin in your palm and studied him openly.
“You know,” you murmured, “you really do have pretty eyes.”
Todoroki stiffened almost imperceptibly. Compliments still caught him off guard, especially ones so direct, because how does the average person take them? Still getting used to this whole socializing thing.
“…They are functional.”
You smiled tenderly. “That’s not what I said.”
He looked at you a little more intensely, as if trying to analyze your words from every possible angle. This time you didn’t look away when he took the time to think. The world seemed to slow around you, the late sunlight painting soft shadows across his features—but Todoroki dared not to look away even for a second.
Your voice dropped to something quieter. “Does it ever make you nervous? Looking at people like that?”
He considered for a moment. “No,” he answered honestly. “It makes me feel…close to them. As though I am giving them my full attention. You deserve full attention.”
You nodded thoughtfully.
“You’re unfair,” you finally told him.
“I am not trying to be,” he replied.
You peeked back up at him, a small, bashful smile tugging at your lips. “I know. That’s the problem.”
He watched you carefully, as if afraid to miss even the smallest expression. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he spoke. “…When you joke about falling for me, is that also a metaphor?”
You froze.
The room felt very still.
“…Mostly? I think?”
“Mostly,” he repeated. “So there is also a part that is not metaphorical.”
You swallowed, then gave a tiny nod. “Yeah. There is.”
He didn’t look away. Not even for a second. Instead, his gaze softened in a way you hadn’t seen before—still intense, but gentle, almost vulnerable.
“I do not mind if you fall,” he said quietly. “I will make sure you do not get hurt.”
“You really don’t know when you’re being romantic, do you?”
“I am not attempting to be romantic,” he said. “I am being honest.”
“That’s even worse, you know.”
He leaned forward just a little, closing the small distance between you. His eyes searched your face with careful attention. “Does my staring bother you?”
You shook your head. “No. Not at all.” Then, more quietly, “I like it.”
“…You do?”
“Yeah,” you admitted.
“Do you want me to lessen this behavior?”
“What? No! I mean,” you sighed, “do whatever makes you happy and comfy.”
“Whatever brings me happiness,” Todoroki says, nodding along, “is simply looking at you.”
“Ok—that is absolutely corny, you cornball!”
“But you also say things like that—“
“I know, oh my gosh, and it sounds better coming from me,” you laughed. “Kidding, kidding. I need to get used to the things I start because you’re going to be the death of me, Shou.”
Some believe that soulmates are destined partners, someone to nurture—to love. Others treat them as an unwanted anchor, a reminder that one can never escape fate.
So where did that leave you? As someone who avoids their soulmate altogether? As someone who fears their soulmate without having even met them?
A chance saving from the hot-n-cold hero whose name has followed you since birth. Ideas of peace are challenged, past regrets resurface, and you learn that soulmates may tether you in ways more than a mere mark on your skin.
soulmate mark 𖥧 75% of the population is born with their soulmate’s name inscribed on their skin. The inscription’s hue changes upon first skin-to-skin contact with your soulmate.
content 𖥧 fem pronouns/afab reader, soulmate marks, pro-heroes, villains, grief, angst, hurt/comfort, avoidance, fluff, pining, yearning, shouto’s kinda a flirt (or tries to be), shouto is mildly good at feelings, noodles, flowers, hospitals, books, reader is a bookstore owner, smut (optional to read)
warnings 𖥧 blood and injury, canon-typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of suicide (reader’s mother), mentions of mental illness, grief, avoidance, overthinking/spiraling thoughts
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ chapters
1 ─ saving and soba
2 ─ heroes that live
3 ─ oasis of comfort
4 ─ upon a full moon
5 ─ time never stopped, until you came
6 ─ omniscience
7 ─ wherever you are
•ू♡ smut scene ─ takes place in ch7, optional to read
˖᯽ ݁˖· ─ ending author's notes
tag ─ #fic: marked in your heart
before you read: i'm aware that this shouto may not be the most nonchalant boy that we know and love. but i hope you come to like this version of yearning, desperate shouto as much as i do :) happy reading!
summary: you babysat little thirteen-year-old megumi once upon a time, but now, ten years later? you spot him at a club looking way too hot to be your awkward kid from the past. you try to play it cool but end up lowkey embarrassing yourself with some accidental flirting. plot twist: he’s actually a new intern at your job, and suddenly the vibe’s all kinds of heat. after a lot of teasing, tension, and some seriously awkward moments, one night the heat finally breaks—and megumi proves he’s way past kid status.
cw: age gap (4ish years), time skips, power dynamics, sexual tension, piv smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, teasing, 7.9k wc
the coffee table was covered in greasy pizza boxes — cheese for megumi, pepperoni for you and tsumiki, who was currently flopped upside down on the couch like a melting popsicle, humming to herself with her slice dangling over her face.
you were cross-legged on the carpet beside megumi, pink nails tapping your phone calculator while he aggressively stabbed his pencil at a multiplication worksheet like it had wronged him in another life.
"this is so stupid," he muttered, brows furrowed. “why can’t i just use a calculator like everyone else?”
you gasped, hand on your heart like he’d just offended your ancestors. “excuse me?! megumi fushiguro, did you just try to commit math blasphemy in front of me?”
he stared blankly. “...what?”
you giggled and leaned over to squint at his half-erased answers. “babe, what is this? did you write ninety-nine for nine times nine?”
his face immediately flushed. “shut up.”
you grinned and, without thinking, ruffled his hair.
he jerked away instantly. “don’t do that,” he said, cheeks flaming.
“oh my god,” you laughed, “you’re so dramatic. you didn’t care when i did it when you were nine.”
he didn’t answer, jaw tense, pencil gripped like he wanted to snap it in half. his bangs shadowed his eyes, and he’d gotten taller since the last time you saw him — lanky, a little awkward, but starting to grow into it. thirteen looked weird on him. it made him seem older than he was and younger than he wanted to be.
“ah, y/n! you have no idea how much we needed this, thank you so much for babysitting last minute,” mrs. fushiguro exclaimed, cheeks rosy—probably from a little too much wine.
mr. fushiguro just grunted in greeting, wandering over to play-wrestle with megumi and swipe one of his slices.
you popped up with a bubbly little wave. “hi! don’t even worry about it, the kids were angels.”
megumi looked personally insulted by that.
tsumiki chirped from the couch, “we made megumi do math and suffer. it was awesome.”
“doing math on a friday night is illegal,” megumi groaned, still hunched over the table.
“you’re just mad you thought nine times nine was ninety-nine,” you sing-songed while slipping on your shoes.
mrs. fushiguro laughed, digging through her purse. “so, y/n, do you have a boyfriend yet? you’re too cute to be single.”
you laughed, flustered. “not yet, i’m focusing on school right now—finals season is killing me.”
mr. fushiguro emerged with a mouth full of pizza. “that’s good. boys your age don’t know their head from their ass.”
you laughed again, but then megumi grumbled something behind him—loud enough to catch everyone’s attention.
“what does she need a boyfriend for? she has me.”
no one said anything for a second. then mr. fushiguro broke the silence by yanking megumi into a headlock and cackling.
“so you’re into older women now, huh? gotta type already, little man?”
“dad, shut up—!”
“oh, megumi,” his mom added, shaking her head with a smile, “i think y/n needs another seventeen-year-old to call her boyfriend. not a middle schooler in minecraft pajamas.”
you giggled behind your hand, careful not to hurt megumi’s feelings. even tsumiki was giggling watching her older brother get oddly flustered.
“speaking of,” his mom continued, “y/n, can you just double check that tsumiki brushed her teeth? i need toji to look at something in the garage.”
toji blinked, pizza still in hand. “i thought we were doing that tomorrow—?”
tsumiki was already tucked in by the time you padded back into the living room. megumi was standing awkwardly by the hallway now, hands in the pockets of his pajama pants, gaze fixed on the floor.
“hey,” you said gently. “you good?”
he nodded a little too quickly. “you’re not gonna come over anymore, right?”
you blinked. “what?”
“my mom said... tsumiki doesn’t need a babysitter anymore.”
you tilted your head, smile softening. “yeah, she’s getting big. you both are.”
he didn’t reply. just scowled at the floor like it had offended him. you reached out and tugged playfully at his sleeve.
“i’m gonna miss you, gumi,” you said, voice bright but fond. “who else is gonna argue with me about math and threaten to burn my worksheets?”
he mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.
you leaned in with a teasing grin, smacked a big pink kiss to his cheek, and said, “you better not forget about me, okay? ‘cause i’m definitely not gonna forget you.”
then you were grabbing your purse and heading for the door, heels clicking cheerfully as you called over your shoulder—
“and stop growing! next time i do see you, you might be 2 heads taller than me.”
megumi stood frozen in the hallway, cheeks burning, hand lifting to touch the faint imprint of your lipstick.
ten years later
the club was packed—sweaty bodies grinding to half-broken trap remixes off today’s top hits, the floor sticky with spilled cocktails and too much cologne. you were deep in the chaos, laughing with your friends between flirty little conversations that ended in free drinks. not trying to pull. just dancing. vibing. glowing.
you were tipsy and stunning—lip gloss poppin', hair perfectly messy, dress barely hanging on. living your life.
and across the dance floor—
“...megumi?”
he freezes like you slapped him. blinks once. twice. because you’re not supposed to be here. you live in a memory, in warm pizza boxes and butterfly clips and highlighter-pink hoodies. you are softness and warmth and the scent of strawberry body spray from the early 2010s. but now—
now you're grown. glowing. sultry. moving your hips to the beat in a way that has no business being legal. and your mouth is still glossy, and megumi is not okay.
you light up. slap some poor guy’s hand off your ass and practically trip your way toward him—your heels clicking like fate. he’s standing by one of the high-top tables, drink in hand, frozen like he’s seen a ghost with a bbl.
you fling your arms around his neck without hesitation, your tits fully pressed to his chest like it’s nothing, giggling in disbelief.
“oh my god—you're drinking?! my baby is drinking?! stop itttt.”
he stiffens. “you—you don’t have to call me—”
“megumi,” you interrupt, dramatically clutching his shoulders. “i babysat you when you still had spider-man sheets. i used to wipe your nose.”
“you absolutely did not—”
“i did! you were like—‘math is stupid’—and you had crusty eye boogers, and now you’re here drinking, looking all…” your eyes drag over him and you wiggle your fingers teasingly. “...grown.”
you pull back just enough to really look at him—and your giggle falters.
because oh. oh.
he’s tall. and broad. and sharp-jawed and annoyingly sexy in that quiet, effortless, completely illegal kind of way.
you blink. "you got hot."
megumi’s brain blue-screens.
"no—i mean—you’ve grown up! that’s what i meant. i used to babysit you!"
you don’t seem to realize how close you are. you’re swaying into him, arm still slung over his shoulders like you’ve done it a thousand times. fingers casually toying with the ends of his hair like it’s your right. like you’re not wearing a backless dress that megumi is painfully aware could slide off with one wrong move.
you, still blissfully unaware, play with the little chain around his neck now. “you work out too, huh? i knew you’d be tall. i remember thinking that when you were like thirteen—‘this kid’s gonna grow up and be hot.’” you laugh like you didn’t just casually ruin his entire night.
megumi stares at you, eyes wide, face absolutely flaming, hands clenched so tightly around his drink it’s a miracle the glass hasn’t shattered.
and then—
“y/n!” a voice calls from the crowd. “there you are!”
yuki slides in out of nowhere, arm snaking around your waist like a protective older sister on a mission. her eyes flick from megumi to your hand on his chain to the way you’re basically draped over him and then back to megumi, whose expression is screaming please kill me right now.
she leans in and stage-whispers, “why are you flirting with a college freshman?”
you blink like she just spoke elvish. “what?? i’m not! that’s—megumi!”
yuki’s brows lift. “...uh-huh.”
“i used to babysit him!” you laugh, slapping megumi lightly on the chest for emphasis. “isn’t that so funny?!”
megumi is dying.
yuki smiles. but it’s tight.
poor kid. he's standing there, stunned, blinking after you like you just set him on fire and walked away.
yuki sighs to herself.
he definitely had a crush on you.
still does.
yuki disappears into the crowd with a look that says good luck, kid, and you're already turning back to megumi with a dazed smile.
"sorryyyy," you giggle, fanning yourself a little. "she’s protective. but isn’t that cute? that she thought i was flirting with you?”
megumi makes a noise in the back of his throat. it might’ve been a laugh. it might’ve been his soul leaving his body. “yeah. cute.”
you don’t even hear him. you're sipping your drink and swaying to the beat again, head tilted, body language loose and open like you belong in the music. the lights shift pink, then blue, then strobe white—each flash catching the sparkle of your jewelry, your glitter gloss, the sweat on your collarbones.
megumi is trying not to look. he is failing.
“god,” you huff, “i feel so old lately. but you—” you gesture at him vaguely. “you’re making me feel ancient right now. you were a child the last time i saw you, and now you’ve got arms and stubble and shit? not fair.”
you set your drink down and stretch dramatically, your chest pushing out and tits practically falling out . you don’t notice the way megumi’s eyes drop—don’t notice the flicker of panic on his face as he forces himself to look away and adjust the front of his pants like he’s trying to pass it off as casual.
he clears his throat. “you don’t look old.”
you beam at him. “aw, thanks, baby.”
baby. oh god. he nearly chokes on his own spit.
the way you say it—so casually—makes something in his chest seize up.
"megumi," a voice calls—bright, amused. it’s another guy his age with pink hair, followed closely by an even bigger and muscular guy with a black man bun. "you good, man?"
pink hair’s eyes flick between you and megumi and light up. he elbows the bigger guy. "yo, he’s so not good. look at him. dude’s malfunctioning."
"i used to babysit him," you offer quickly, like that explains anything. like that makes this less weird.
the big guy snorts. pink hair looks delighted.
"cool," pink hair says. "you babysit all your kids like that?"
you shove at his arm playfully, cheeks hot. megumi is still dead silent, jaw tight, hands in his pockets like if he moves them he’ll do something very illegal.
before you can say anything else, yuki materializes behind you, tugging your wrist. "babe, drink. let’s go. enough flirting"
you squawk, "i was not flirting—he’s megumi! i used to babysit him! and he’s, like, twenty-three now!"
yuki glances at megumi—still stiff, still watching you like you’re made of sin—and hums. "right. poor kid."
you let her drag you away, sipping your drink, heart beating a little weirdly fast. but by the time yuki hands you another daiquiri you’ve long forgotten about your run-in with the kid you used to babysit ten years go.
monday rolls around and you’re in the breakroom, adjusting the office keurig like it’s your sworn duty. your mug says "boss babe, brat edition" in obnoxiously cute pink font, and you’ve just finished swirling your creamer in when yuki sidles up beside you, designer sunglasses still perched on top of her head and an overpriced latte in hand.
“god,” she sighs, “i can't wait for the interns to get here. i’m gonna make them do all my paperwork while i take an extra lunch.”
you laugh into your cup. “it’s barely 9am and you’re already planning your escape.”
“self-care,” she shrugs.
a few more of your coworkers filter in, sleep-deprived and carrying folders. you greet them cheerfully, air-kissing a few cheeks and wishing people a good morning like the workplace princess you are. the heels, the lip gloss, the iced coffee—you’re basically the human embodiment of a good linkedin headshot.
you swipe your tablet from your desk and strut your way to the main conference room, where your poor baby interns are waiting for their intro training—which is just twenty soul-sucking slides of hr compliance and outdated office etiquette. it’s tradition. you consider it a hazing ritual.
you push open the door with a practiced smile, ready to greet the sea of nervous college grads with something cute and perky—
and then you see him.
seated near the middle of the u-shaped table setup, black button-up slightly wrinkled, blue lanyard slung around his neck.
no. way.
your heart stutters, and you blink hard like your brain short-circuited. you double-check the clipboard in your hand like it might say surprise! that boy from the club is also your intern now!
but it doesn’t.
and he’s definitely here. megumi fushiguro. sitting tall and tense, jaw tight, eyes wide.
you don’t even realize you’ve said it out loud:
“…megumi?”
the room falls silent. every intern is now watching you two like this is a k-drama scene.
his mouth twitches. he looks like he might simply evaporate into the floor. “...hi.”
you blink again.
hi??
you’re pretty sure your brain melts a little on the spot. this is the same guy you saw at the club three nights ago—the same guy whose biceps you complimented while slurring something about spider-man bedsheets.
and now he’s here.
wearing slacks.
in your intern orientation.
“oh my god,” you murmur. “you didn’t tell me you were interning here.”
“you didn’t give me a chance,” he says, and you swear—he sounds almost smug.
your mouth drops open a little. you blink at him, stunned and pink in the cheeks, and then remember yourself—right, there are ten other baby employees staring at you, and you’re supposed to be the confident one here.
you clap your hands once, forcing your professional smile back on. “okay! welcome everyone, let’s get started, we’re gonna have so much fun!”
you turn to the screen, clicking your little presentation remote like your life depends on it, and you feel megumi’s eyes burning into your back.
and all you can think is:
this can’t be happening.
tuesday
you’re humming to yourself in the elevator, scrolling through your phone, when the doors slide open and bam—in walks megumi.
alone.
you grin.
“well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little intern.”
he visibly stiffens. “you’ve gotta stop saying that.”
“what? that you’re my favorite?”
“that you used to babysit me.”
you laugh and lean your shoulder against the elevator wall, eyes dragging over him shamelessly.
“sorry,” you say sweetly. “i’ll stop... once i’m no longer picturing those spider-man sheets.”
he groans under his breath.
and you? you don’t notice the way his gaze flickers down to your legs, or the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek when you tilt your head just so.
that night, you’re washing your face and trying to unwind when the memory hits you like a truck: the club.
you groan into your towel.
because yeah, tuesday morning you were all smug and flirty in the elevator, but now you’re remembering just how unhinged you were the first time you ran into him again—like three months ago, at yuki’s birthday thing. loud club, slutty dress, way too many tequila shots. you’d been dancing on him. had your hands on his shoulders. called him “grown now” with a wink. maybe even touched his jaw.
and he just stood there all cool and quiet with that unreadable look on his face while you were acting like a full-blown cougar in heat.
“jesus christ,” you mutter to your ceiling. “i babysat him.”
no wonder he looked at you weird this morning. he probably thinks you’re some thirsty, washed-up ex-babysitter with a weird age gap kink.
you bury your face in your pillow and scream internally for a good thirty seconds.
and maybe that’s why, when wednesday rolls around, you start dialing it back.
you were just trying to get coffee. you swear that’s all you were doing.
but then megumi walked in, sleeves rolled up, forearms all veiny and pretty, with his messy black hair pushed back like he didn’t even try—and your brain short-circuited.
the boy you used to babysit is now a fully grown, hot, adult man. and your body is reacting accordingly.
he mumbles a tired “morning” as he reaches past you to grab a mug, and your breath catches because—what the hell. when did his voice get that deep?
you back up a little too fast and end up knocking over the sugar packet holder. classic.
“you good?” he asks, one brow raised.
“yup,” you squeak, scooping up the mess without looking at him. “totally good. just—coffee. haven’t had coffee. haha.”
he watches you for a second, lips twitching like he’s holding in a laugh.
normally, you’d swat at his arm. tease him. call him a brat.
but instead, you keep your eyes fixed on your mug and tell yourself to get it together.
because this is megumi. you used to babysit him. he probably sees you as some weird big sister figure and here you are practically blushing because he said "good morning."
besides—he’s 23. fresh out of college. probably into girls who go to music festivals and do their skincare routines on tiktok. not a tired 28-year-old corporate zombie whose back hurts when she sits down too fast.
even if he is disgustingly good-looking now. even if he smells like sandalwood and makes your stomach do somersaults.
“okay,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than to him. “we’re dialing it back.”
and you do. you don’t touch his arm. you don’t mention his spider-man sheets. you don’t call him baby megumi.
you grab your coffee and walk out like a respectable adult woman.
and megumi watches you go with the faintest frown on his face.
thursday
something’s off.
you’re quieter today. still sweet, still smiling, but... distant.
he’s not imagining it. you used to bump your shoulder when you walked past, used to throw him little teasing jabs, used to light up when he said something dry that made you laugh.
now?
now you’re polite. reserved. a little stiff.
and megumi has no idea what the fuck he did.
he finds himself watching you, trying to pinpoint when the switch flipped.
it’s not like he didn’t notice before—how pretty you are. how funny. how you make a stupid office feel like something warm.
but now, it’s like you’ve put up a glass wall. you’re still right there, but out of reach.
and he hates it.
he catches you in the break room again, smiling too tightly while pouring your coffee.
"you’re avoiding me," he says before he can stop himself.
you blink, startled. “what? no, i’m just busy.”
“you’re not busy right now.”
you glance at him, then look away quickly. “i figured you’d want some space. i’ve been kind of... annoying.”
annoying? he wants to shake you.
instead, he just clenches his jaw and mutters, “you weren’t.”
but you’re already slipping out the door with your coffee, head ducked.
and megumi’s left standing there, wondering if he imagined the whole connection. if he hallucinated your teasing smiles and flirty comments and the soft way you looked at him on tuesday.
he pulls out his phone, types out a text to tsumiki.
her: “wait you saw her again???”
him: “she works here.”
her: “megumi. omg. did you tell her you had a massive crush on her.”
him: “no.”
her: “does she still wear the glittery lip gloss???”
him: “yes.”
he sighs and closes the thread.
friday
someone in marketing shouts it out first: “drinks after work? to celebrate the new interns?”
everyone’s murmuring agreement. even your boss nods.
you nudge megumi’s arm with your elbow, slowly grinning. “coming out with us?”
he hesitates.
you tilt your head. “come on. you should go.”
“for what?”
“get to know some of us outside our desks and business casual wear”
“i already know you.”
“megumii.”
“…fine.”
later that day, yuki catches you lingering by the copy machine and immediately clocks the way your eyes flick toward megumi when he walks by.
“you good, girly?” she says under her breath.
you wave her off. “fine.”
“you’re not flirting with your baby intern anymore.”
“i was never flirting.”
she arches a brow. “babe.”
you sigh. “he’s just... not a kid anymore. i realized that.”
yuki hums. “and that’s a bad thing?”
“it’s just weird, okay?” you hiss. “he’s 23. i’m almost 28. i used to make him chicken nuggets.”
“okay but now you want him to rail you into next week.”
you gasp. “yuki—”
“tell me i’m wrong.”
you don’t.
happy hour rolls around, and the bar starts filling up with tired salarymen and even more exhausted hourly workers. your office has a long table pushed together in the back, half your coworkers already crowding around with drinks in hand while the rest hover near the pool table.
you chew the inside of your cheek, debating whether or not to get megumi a drink. he’s over by the bar, laughing at something one of the other interns said, posture easy and relaxed.
you weren’t exactly avoiding him. you were just… setting boundaries. for yourself. trying to be normal. professional. and now, being in the same dimly lit bar as him—tipsy and tired and way too aware of how stupid hot he is—feels like a terrible idea.
yuki slings an arm around your shoulder and groans dramatically. “can you please just fuck him already?”
you choke on your beer. violently.
“yuki!” you whisper-shout, eyes wide as you glance around to make sure no one heard your deranged little menace of a friend.
she just takes another swig from her pint and leans in closer, lowering her voice but still way too loud. “what? you’ve been eye-fucking him since before you even knew he was working here. and you're too naive to notice he’s been eye-fucking you back.”
“i have not been—wait, he’s been what?”
yuki deadpans. “are you serious right now? if you would stop spiraling for like two seconds, you’d see it.”
she grabs your chin, gently but with intent, and turns your head toward the bar—right where megumi’s sitting.
he’s looking at you.
his gaze flicks away the second your eyes meet, but not fast enough to pretend he wasn’t staring. his ears go pink. he says something to the intern beside him, but his whole body shifts like he's been caught.
your stomach swoops.
still, you shake your head. no. nope. nothing’s going to happen. first of all, you work together now. that’s inappropriate. second of all, you used to babysit him, which is… arguably more inappropriate. megumi probably thinks you’re a freak. he’s probably this close to reporting you to hr.
so, you do what any sane, responsible adult would do: avoid him for the rest of the night.
you play pool with the accounting team, gossip with the customer service reps, and keep your eyes anywhere but on megumi—no matter how many times yuki throws you the world’s most pointed looks across the table.
eventually, people start trickling out. one by one. then in pairs. then in carpools. you’re settling your tab and sipping on some watered-down coke when someone slides into the seat next to you.
you look up—and of course it’s him.
megumi. looking warm and flushed and slightly buzzed. his hair a little messy. his shirt rumpled at the sleeves.
“hey,” he says, voice soft and low.
you blink. “hi.”
he’s close enough that his thigh brushes yours every time he shifts.
you’re acutely aware of it.
the warmth of his body. the clean, faint scent of sandalwood and laundry detergent. the occasional flex of his forearm as he nurses his drink.
you’re not even drunk. that’s the worst part.
you’re just buzzing. nerves and want and something heavy curling low in your belly.
“can we talk?”
your stomach dips. you nod once, trying to look normal—cool, even—as if you haven’t spent the past week panicking over every interaction you’ve had with this man.
megumi glances around, then tips his chin toward the hallway leading to the back patio. “out there?”
you follow him outside, where the noise from the bar softens into a low hum behind the glass. the air is cooler out here, a soft breeze carrying the faint scent of street food and cigarette smoke. there’s no one else around.
megumi leans against the railing, arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere out in the distance. you wait, heart beating in your throat.
“you’ve been avoiding me,” he says finally, quiet but direct.
you blink. “i haven’t—”
“yes, you have.”
you pause. then sigh, leaning your back against the railing beside him. “okay. maybe a little.”
he turns his head toward you, jaw tight. “did i do something wrong?”
the way he says it—so genuinely unsure—makes your chest ache a little.
“no,” you say quickly. “god, no. you didn’t. i just…” you trail off, chewing your lip. “i’ve been trying to be professional,”
“i guess i was just scared i was making you feel weird or something this week,” you continue in a murmur, “with all the teasing.”
megumi nods. “i admit, maybe telling half the office i used to wear super mario underwear was a little much at first, but… it’s you. so it’s okay.”
you glance over. “you sure?”
he looks at you for a long beat. then, quietly:
“i’m not thirteen anymore.”
and oh.
it’s like something in the air cracks. sharp and electric.
you laugh, light and disbelieving, because what the fuck kind of answer is that. “yeah, no shit, megumi. i noticed.”
his gaze drops—slowly. from your eyes, to your mouth, then down to your thighs, crossed tightly under the table.
“did you?” he says, voice low.
your breath catches.
for a moment, neither of you say anything. the bar chatter fades to a background blur. you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the thrum of something heavy and unspoken between you.
you don’t look away.
“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
megumi huffs a quiet laugh, one that doesn't reach his eyes. “you really don’t get it, do you?”
“…get what?”
he leans in, just slightly. enough to brush his knee against yours. enough to make your pulse stutter.
“i used to wait up on the couch just to see you when you came to babysit. stayed in my room late on purpose so you’d come knock and say goodnight. i used to think about you every fucking day for years.”
you freeze.
your heart is a runaway train in your chest. “‘gumi—”
he smiles, soft but a little self-deprecating. “i used to have dreams about you when i was, like, fifteen. woke up so hard it hurt. and now you’re here. looking like this. wearing pencil skirts and calling me your favorite.”
you stare at him.
he’s not even teasing. he’s dead serious.
and suddenly you can’t breathe.
you feel hot. your skin prickles with awareness. your thighs clench under the table and you don’t know what to do with your hands.
“is this…” you swallow, trying to keep your voice level, “is this you flirting with me?”
“no,” he says simply. “that was me telling you i want to fuck you.”
your jaw drops. you blink once, twice. you’re pretty sure the earth shifts on its axis.
he glances down, then back up. “if that’s not what you want, just say so.”
you don't say anything.
you can't.
because the truth is, your entire body is screaming yes. every nerve ending has been wound tight all week and now he's just offering himself up like this? looking like that?
you scramble to think, to act normal, to not do something that’ll land you in hr monday morning.
but then he says, softly—
“you’re not my babysitter anymore.”
and that’s the last fucking straw.
you grab your purse.
megumi blinks. “wait—”
“come with me,” you say, voice low and tight.
“…where?”
“away from the bar.”
you grab his arm, weaving through the crowd like you’re on autopilot. the second you step outside, you yank him around the corner into the alley behind the bar—hidden from view but still close enough to hear the bass thumping through the walls.
“y/n, i’m sorry— i didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, i just—”
you don’t let him finish.
your hands fist in the collar of his shirt and you drag him down into a kiss so heated it nearly knocks the wind out of you both.
megumi freezes for half a second—just one. then he’s moving like he’s been waiting for this all night, hands snapping to your waist and yanking you flush against him. you moan into his mouth, high and breathy, already addicted to the way he’s gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
your fingers roam down his chest, tracing every dip of muscle through his shirt until you reach the waistband of his pants.
he shudders. his breath catches.
you break the kiss and pant against his lips, eyes glittering.
“you’re a great kisser, ‘gumi.”
megumi huffs a laugh and presses his mouth to the underside of your jaw. “wish i could say i learned from the best.”
you blush. blush. at him.
looking away, you clear your throat. “do you… wanna come back to my place?”
megumi lifts his head. his eyes are dark. focused.
“i’ll drive.”
the ride to your apartment is tense and silent—at least, on the surface. but his hand stays glued to your thigh the entire time, his thumb stroking just shy of your inner leg. every red light feels like a test. every brush of his knuckle makes you want to drag his hand higher and make him feel how wet you are already.
by the time you unlock your door, you’re trembling. not from fear—but from anticipation. from knowing this is real.
inside, the door clicks shut behind you.
and suddenly, you hesitate.
you falter. your confidence wavers, like the reality of it all is just now hitting you.
“so, wanna drink something?” you murmur, leaning back against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping lightly on the cool surface, heart thudding with that familiar anticipation.
megumi edges closer, voice low and rough, “no, there’s something else i want way more.”
then, without warning, he’s got you caged in—arms wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush to him. but this kiss? it’s nothing like that frantic, desperate one at the bar. this time, he’s slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing the curve of your lips with his own.
your legs coil around his waist, heels slipping off as he lifts you onto the counter effortlessly.
he nips your bottom lip softly, making you whimper, hands trailing up your skirt, skin warm against your thighs. meanwhile, your fingers fumble clumsily over the buttons of his shirt, eager and trembling.
he hums against your mouth, kisses getting messy and urgent, swallowing your moans like they’re his oxygen.
finally, his hands find the place you crave most—spreading your thighs wider, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. he smirks against your lips when he feels your knees shake under his touch.
you gasp when his thumb grazes your underwear, just barely brushing over your soaked clit.
“fuck—you're soaked,” megumi groans, breath hot against your skin.
you giggle, breathless, “can you really blame me?”
his eyes flash darker. “no. but i want to hear you say it anyway.”
you part your lips, about to answer, but then his fingers slip beneath the band of your underwear and stroke your slit once—slow, deliberate, teasing—and your brain just short-circuits.
“oh—fuck,” you breathe, hips bucking into his hand. “megumi—”
“you’re soaked for me,” he murmurs, nosing at your jaw. “and i haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
“then touch me properly,” you whimper, shameless now, thighs trembling.
megumi lets out a low groan that vibrates against your neck. “don’t tempt me.”
but he does.
he pushes your underwear aside and slides two fingers into you in one smooth motion, the stretch making you keen as your walls clench tight around him.
“fuck—‘gumi—”
he groans again at the nickname, curling his fingers until your eyes flutter. “you always say my name like that?”
you nod, delirious. “only when i’m about to come.”
he smirks. “good. gonna make you say it over and over.”
you cling to him, nails scraping his shoulders as he pumps his fingers steadily inside you, thumb finding your clit like he already knows your body better than you do. you’re panting now, hips rolling into his touch, desperate for more.
“look at you,” he murmurs, watching your face like he’s memorizing every twitch, every gasp. “so pretty like this. s’like you were made to fall apart in my hands.”
you whimper, thighs trembling against the counter as his fingers curl just right inside you.
“you always look this good when someone touches you, or is it just me?” his voice is low, rough, and just the tiniest bit smug.
you don’t answer—you can’t—not when his thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk, chasing the pressure. but he knows. he can feel your body answering him.
“you’ve been acting so shy all week,” he mutters, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “thought maybe you didn’t want me. but this?”
he fucks his fingers into you a little deeper. you gasp.
“this says otherwise.”
your fingers tighten in his shirt, dizzy from how fast he’s unraveling you. “megumi, i—”
“i’ve wanted this,” he breathes. “since that night at the club. since the second i saw you again.”
you moan when his tongue traces the shell of your ear.
“wanna hear you say it,” he growls softly. “tell me you want me too.”
you nod frantically, panting, “i do—i do, i just—fuck—was trying to be normal, and—”
“fuck normal,” he mutters, cutting you off with a kiss, all tongue and heat and claiming. “i don’t want normal. i want you.”
his fingers curl again, knuckles deep, hitting something devastating inside you. you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders, your back arching off the kitchen counter.
“you’re so close, aren’t you?” he whispers, thumb rubbing relentless circles over your clit. “been teasing me all week like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. wearing those little skirts. biting your lip. looking at me like you wanted me to ruin you.”
“i wasn’t—!” you try to argue, but your voice breaks into a moan, heat pooling low in your belly like a rubber band about to snap.
he chuckles darkly, and fuck—you feel it more than you hear it. “no? then what’s this?” he presses deeper, watching your thighs tremble.
your breath stutters. “megumi—please—”
and that does it. that makes something snap in him. the sound of his name falling from your lips all soft and desperate.
“go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “let go. i’ve got you.”
you fall apart with a strangled cry, legs shaking, his name breaking again and again from your mouth. he watches the whole thing—soaking in every twitch, every breathy whimper, like it's the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.
when your hips twitch from oversensitivity, his touch finally eases—but he doesn’t move away.
instead, he lifts his fingers slowly, admiring how soaked they are, before sucking them into his mouth with a low groan.
your jaw drops. “megumi—!”
he grins, and for the first time since you reunited, you see it—the boy you used to babysit peeking through the man he’s become. all teasing eyes and smugness and deep, aching affection.
“taste better than i ever imagined,” he says.
you blink. “what?”
his smile softens—just a little. “you heard me.”
you’re still dazed, but you manage to breathe out, “you’ve…imagined this?”
megumi leans in again, hand sliding gently to cup your face.
“i’ve dreamed about this night for years.”
your heart stutters in your chest. “you have?”
“every time i ran into someone who reminded me of you,” he murmurs. “every time i walked past some girl wearing strawberry-pink lip gloss.”
his thumb brushes your bottom lip, gaze flicking down.
“but none of them were you.”
you melt—just a little—before he grabs your hand and starts backing toward the hallway.
“come on,” he murmurs, eyes darkening again. “i’m not done with you yet.”
you let him pull you toward the bedroom, heart pounding, thighs still trembling, a little giggly with disbelief.
“megumi—what are you even—?”
he shoots you a look that shuts you right up. “i just made you cum on my fingers. now i wanna do it with my mouth.”
you whimper.
he grins. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”
he peels the rest of your clothing off you, shedding off his own as well, then lays you out gently on the bed like you’re something precious—until he gets between your thighs. then it's like he changes.
megumi kisses down your inner thighs slowly, reverently, hands strong and sure as they wrap around the backs of your legs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.
“spread for me,” he murmurs against your skin. “wanna see how pretty you are like this.”
you shiver. “megumi—”
“mm-mm.” he glances up through his lashes, mouth just hovering over your soaked panties. “say it again.”
“...megumi,” you whisper, already breathless.
“no,” he says, nosing at the fabric. “gumi. like you did at the bar.”
your breath hitches. “gumi…”
he groans low in his throat, almost like it hurts. “fuck. you have no idea what that does to me.”
and then he’s pulling your panties down in one fluid motion, tossing them somewhere behind him, eyes glued to your dripping pussy like it’s the first real thing he’s ever seen.
“you’ve been wet for me all week, haven’t you?” he murmurs. “bet you were soaked every time i brushed your arm. every time you ran from me.”
his breath fans against you, and you squirm.
“i—i wasn’t trying to tease you—”
he grins, all sharp teeth and dark eyes. “you did anyway.”
and then he dives in.
tongue flat, slow, devastating—lapping through your folds like he’s savoring every fucking second. you cry out, thighs already twitching around his head, but he just groans and presses in deeper, locking your hips down with his arms.
“fuck, gumi—!” your back arches.
he hums against you, and you feel it everywhere. the vibration, the smugness, the feral little edge in it.
“shit—shit—you’re so good at this—”
megumi pulls back just long enough to say, “you think i didn’t practice for this?”
you stare down at him, wide-eyed, lips parted.
“dreamt about this too,” he pants, mouth already glistening. “used to jerk off thinking about how you’d taste. how you’d sound when i had you like this.”
you whimper, hips canting up—and he grins.
“yeah. just like that.”
his tongue circles your clit, soft at first, then rougher, alternating between slow, torturous laps and quick flicks that have you gasping, sobbing, clawing at the sheets.
“you’re—fuck, gumi—you’re so good—nngh—so good at this, holy shit—”
you swear he moans into your pussy, the praise going straight to his cock. one hand leaves your thigh to slide two fingers back inside you, curling just right, stroking you in perfect rhythm with his mouth.
“want you to cum like this,” he murmurs against you. “all over my tongue.”
you shake your head, barely able to speak. “i—i can’t last—if you keep going like that—”
“then cum,” he growls, low and hungry. “fucking cum for me, baby.”
you fall apart with a sob, hips jerking, thighs clamping around his head—but megumi doesn’t stop. he rides you through it, drinking every drop, licking you like he’s memorizing the taste.
when you finally slump back onto the mattress, panting and twitching, he kisses your inner thigh, then your hip, then slowly crawls back up your body.
“still want that drink?” he teases, smirking as he presses his forehead to yours.
you stare at him, dazed. “i’m gonna die.”
he snorts. “not yet. i haven’t even fucked you yet.”
you're still trying to catch your breath, back pressed to the mattress, chest rising and falling with every shaky inhale. your thighs are slick, still trembling from how hard you came, and megumi’s mouth is shiny with you, lips parted as he pants softly against your inner thigh.
he crawls up over you, body caging you in, and you think you might actually melt into the bed with how warm his weight feels hovering there—how safe.
his face hovers above yours, and you expect another kiss, more filthy teasing—but instead, he pauses.
his thumb brushes gently over your cheek. “are you sure you want this?”
the words are soft. careful. not just asking for permission—he’s giving you the chance to change your mind.
and fuck, that nearly ruins you more than anything else tonight.
you nod, voice barely above a whisper. “yeah. i want you.”
he stares at you for a long second, like he’s etching you into memory. then you ask, just as softly, “do you?”
there’s not even a beat.
“i’ve wanted this since forever.”
it’s quiet. barely more than a breath.
and something in you shatters—your heart, your restraint, whatever filter you had left. your fingers grip his jaw and you pull him down into a kiss so deep you feel it in your toes.
“then show me,” you whisper against his lips. “please.”
he doesn’t hesitate.
one hand snakes between your bodies, and he lines himself up, the head of his cock thick and hot as it brushes against your entrance. he watches your face as he starts to push in—slow, deliberate, careful despite the way his jaw clenches from the effort of holding back.
you gasp, arching into him. “megumi—”
“you’re so fucking tight,” he groans. “shit—you feel unreal.”
he buries himself to the hilt in one long stroke, and you swear your brain short-circuits. he’s thick, stretching you just shy of too much, and you swear you see stars.
he leans in, breath hot against your ear. “i’ve thought about this. every night for years.”
you whimper, arms tightening around his shoulders. “you—fuck—you’re really good at this.”
megumi lets out a dark laugh, cock twitching inside you. “i’ve been dreaming about this night since i was sixteen,” he breathes. “no way i wasn’t gonna be ready.”
and then he moves—pulls his hips back and thrusts in deep, setting a rhythm that’s slow but devastating. every drag of his cock is perfect, angled just right, like he already knows your body better than you do.
you choke out a moan. “oh my god—”
“i wanna ruin you,” he grits, snapping his hips a little harder. “wanna fuck you so good you forget every guy before me.”
you whimper, thighs wrapping around his waist. “you already did.”
that breaks something in him.
he growls low in his throat and starts pounding into you, the soft start giving way to pure, feral want. he shifts your legs higher, hits deeper, and suddenly you’re clawing at his back, gasping his name like a prayer.
“mine,” he growls. “you’re mine now.”
“yours,” you sob, head falling back. “i’m yours.”
he sets a punishing pace, the bed creaking under the force of his powerful thrusts. you can only hold on for dear life, nails digging into his flexing biceps as he pounds into you mercilessly. pleasure builds in your core with each drive of his hips.
his hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, rubbing harsh circles that send sparks through your spine. your whole body tightens.
“‘gumi—fuck—i’m gonna—”
“i know,” he grits, never letting up. “give it to me, baby. wanna feel you fall apart around me.”
you shudder.
"i want you to cum inside me," you plead, spreading your thighs wider in clear invitation. "i want to feel you fill me up, ‘gumi. please."
his jaw clenches as he battles with himself for a moment before finally giving in with a strangled curse. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's coming undone.
"fuck, yes," he groans, hips stuttering as he floods your depths with his hot seed. you clench around him, milking every last drop as your own orgasm crashes through you.
you both slump into a sweaty pile, tangled limbs and ragged breaths filling the quiet room. megumi’s fingers trace lazy circles on your back, warm and steady, as he presses a soft kiss to your temple—his lips feather-light against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
“you okay?” megumi murmurs against your skin.
you stay quiet, too out of it, your skin still tingling where his hands roamed, thighs sticky and trembling, breath coming shallow and uneven.
“shit, i knew it. i went too far—fuck,” he rushes, sitting up, searching your face for any sign he messed up.
slowly, you turn to him, sore but smiling, eyes shiny with unshed tears, lips swollen and gloss-smudged. you meet his panicked gaze.
“i’m good,” you whisper, voice raw but sure. “really, i’m more than good.”
he exhales shaky, collapsing back against you, nuzzling your neck, lips brushing over his mark. “fuck, you scared me,” he murmurs.
you pull him down beneath the sheets, arms wrapping his neck. he follows, head on your chest, breath warm and heart still racing.
“you know,” megumi says softly after a moment, “when i said i’ve wanted this forever, i meant all of it—the nice, quiet parts, too. just holding you like this.”
you laugh, slipping a leg over his waist, skin sticky and warm, pulling him impossibly close. the humid night air clings to you both, mixing with the faint scent of sweat and his cologne. “well, you’ve got me now. heads up—i’m kind of addicted to cuddles.”
megumi smiles, that soft, goofy grin that makes your heart flutter, the warmth of his chest rising and falling under your hand. “that sounds perfect.”
before sleep sweeps over you both, you add with a teasing smirk, “not bad for a rookie.”
he freezes, blinking up at you. you grin.
“rookie?”
you shrug, biting your lip like you’re holding back a laugh. “cute, a little clumsy, but with a whole lot of fire. lots of potential.”
his jaw drops a little—you catch the twitch in his eye.
“you’re messing with me.”
you sit up a little, brushing your fingers through his tangled hair, cool against his warm skin. “baby,” you tease, voice soft and playful, “remember, i’m older and wiser.”
he blinks again, still dazed.
you lean close, breath ghosting over his ear, warm and sweet.
“and just wait. tomorrow, i’m gonna show you what you’ve been missing out on.”
megumi’s eyes go wide, stunned and utterly captivated—as if you just handed him the keys to heaven.
you giggle, pressing a kiss to his forehead, snuggling deeper into his heat and the soft rustle of the sheets around you.
hello favorite writer !! can u do megumi w 46 in the kisses section ? i hope u r doing well and i love ur works :)
46. angry kisses (M. FUSHIGURO) (wc: 650+)
part of L’s 1K event!
“Megumi?”
He can practically hear the quiver of your lip before he sees it, turning around at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He should be scared, petrified, of the wrath he knows he’s about to face. He should be shaking in fear and anticipation of the anger he knows you hold for him right now, but he isn't.
If anything, in some sick way, he’s relieved. Grateful to even be hearing your voice after the stupid stunt he just pulled on his mission. Even if your voice was laced with fury and resentment, it was still yours.
When he fully turns and sees you, he can practically feel the heat from the anger radiating off of you. If it was possible, he’s absolutely certain that steam would be coming out of your ears. You wear a livid yet weary expression, one he’s become far too accustomed to these days. And again he finds himself cursing his heart for swooning at the sight of your angered frame, because again, it’s yours.
Suddenly you’re walking towards him, quickly and motivated as you close the space between the two of you. He expects a light shove, some tears, maybe even a flick on the forehead. He expects your desperate pleas of hurt and betrayal, or even worse, the silent treatment. What he doesn't expect but somehow still receives, is your lips desperately on his, inhaling all of him as if you might never get the chance to taste him again.
“You’re so stupid,” you whisper between the cracks of his bloodied pout. “You’re so fucking stupid.”
“I know,” he agrees, and he means it. He knows how foolish it was to risk his life on a whim like that, without saying goodbye to you or kissing you one last time. He thinks he’d kill you if you did the same to him.
“I know,” he repeats (more so to himself) into your mouth, lips still feverishly on one another.
He’s not sure what he did to deserve this kind of reaction, but he’s more than thankful for it. You are mad at him, he can tell from the harsh insults imbedded in your kisses, but you’re still kissing him. So how mad can you really be?
“How could you do that to me?”
Kiss.
“Something could’ve happened to you.”
Kiss.
“You’re so selfish.”
Kiss.
“I would have never done that to you.”
Kiss.
Your hands are clinging and grasping onto any part of him they can reach: his sore arms, disheveled hair, tiresome back. Poking, prodding, feeling him. Making sure he’s alive and here, in your arms and stupid as ever.
“Not that I’m complaining or anything but,” Megumi decides to try his luck, as he slips his tongue into your mouth for a second before pulling away once more to quietly mumble, “if you’re so mad at me, why are you kissing me?”
And he almost regrets asking, because for the first time since you walked into his embrace, your lips leave his as you pull away to look him in the eyes.
“Because I need to feel you,” you pine and he feels the love in your voice—it encompasses him like a familiar scent of warmth and home. Your eyes burn into his as you continue, “Make sure you’re still with me, even though you’re an asshole.”
He lets out a soft chuckle at your crude insult and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more loved than he does in this moment. For someone to scream at him, hold him accountable, want more for him, it feels like a blessing which he doesn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry,” he returns, forehead resting on yours as his large and calloused hand rubs sweet circles on the center of your back.
“No, you’re not,” you mumble as your lips find his again, needing him close. You feel him smile into the kiss as he grabs your face to deepen his movements.
“Kinda hard to be when you’re kissing me like this,” he admits with a grin. “Not exactly a punishment.”
NOTE: f- favori- favorite writer????? imagine me clutching my chest and blushing bc thats whats happing rn. thank u for all of ur support / reading my works / requesting this for the sweetest stupid boy ever! i hope you are doing amazing and that this makes u smile
⋮ ⌗ ┆概要 ⨾ sunghoon's taken. it doesn't stop him from inviting you round.
朴成训 𝔁 𝒻 .ᐟ读者 ── 8.5k
explicit content ⋆ smut (mdni)、cheating、dom!sunghoon、sub!reader、university/college au、morally grey characters (the reader is a bad person)、misogynistic themes and language (the portrayal of any characters here does not reflect their real life character) 、oral (m. rec)、throat fucking、cowgirl、unprotected sex (don't do this)、breeding kink、creampie、couch sex、degradation/humiliation、multiple orgasms、cum eating、brief spit kink、slight exhibitionism、hung!hoon、size & bulge kink、petnames used: baby、sweet girl、whore. guest appearances by: hyung line (enhypen) 、sieun (stayc)、johnny (nct)、oc named songyi.⌇ℳ.list
⋮ ⌗ ┆便条 ⨾ thank you to my favourite editor, anjo for posting this sexy edit with the audio that inspired me to come up with this messed up idea (in sexyy red, we trust 🙏🏾). big, big thank you to @yvampyr for holding my hand throughout this fic, as well as being my biggest supporter. i hope to one day repay you the kindness you've shown me 🥹 anyways (!1!) despite the nature of this fic, i really enjoyed writing this and think my writing does shine in some parts of this. please feel free to let me know your thoughts, my ask box & comment section are always open! hope you enjoy, much loveeee! <333
Sunghoon shouldn't want you as much as he does.
He shouldn't want you at all, his girlfriend the lone reason. However, in the packed ruckus of the LED-lit bar, his inhibitions get the best of him ─ making him lookout for your looming figure in the haystack of students. One of the last night's out before the holidays calls for celebration, old Christmas lights string around wooden pillars with popular holiday remixes blaring through the speakers. In true festive spirit, employees are trademarked by ugly sweaters and flimsy Santa hats, a noticeable two standing out from the crowd.
The terrible twos, you and Sieun —your closest friend — laugh despite the heavy foot traffic, a bucket of ice hauled over by your towering figure. Your black leather boots have you stand out amongst the crowd, bright smile haloed by the bar's spotlights, illumination emphasizing your…costume. The sexy Santa stitch of fabric barely covers any skin yet highlights everything about your figure, deep red a compliment to your complexion.
Whosever idea this was, the shorts included, had a drink on Sunghoon.
"Bro," a hard nudge hits him in the bicep, flinch directing his gaze back to his table where Jake looks less than impressed. "Eyes up here."
"I don't blame him," Heeseung murmurs, not even hiding his eyes dipped into Sieun's cleavage. He'd even raised his eyebrows ─ pervert. Not that Sunghoon's any better. "I hate to see her go, but I love to watch her walk away."
"Didn't think virgins had preferences," Jay laughs into his pint, face souring when Heeseung tips the glass to spill down his chin. "The fuck? This quarter-zip's brand new!"
"And they're meant to be the oldest," Jake's eyes roll, pint glass perched on the Harley Davidson coaster. His attention floats back to Sunghoon, spying his inattention. He doesn't need to bet money where his best friend's eyes are. "How's your girl?"
"What girl?"
Appalled huffs of amusement demand Sunghoon's focus, focus back on their corner table they snagged before the chaos.
"What the fuck bro," Heeseung laughs, arms folded over his stomach.
"Hang him by his balls," Jay shakes his head, fingers carding through tousled strands. "Holy shit, man."
It dawns on him then, the mirage of his girlfriend materializing upon being prompted. It's alarming how regular of an occurrence it is.
"Right, Songyi," Sunghoon nods, utilizing repeated blinks to search for called upon information. He remembers her texting him she'd be over later after her housemates leave for the club. "She's good. Can't complain."
The smack of pool balls echoes in their corner of the bar, farm green table dotted with a mixed group of students playing a poor game. Somehow it still manages to catch Jay's attention.
"It's been, what? Two weeks since you got together?" Jay muses, knocking back the rest of his drink. "How's that working out for you?"
Not as imagined, Sunghoon can admit. Ever since he laid eyes on you, the angelic beauty and well of kindness people preached of you makes you all the more unattainable. Sunghoon sees you around, not often, but enough to memorize the details. The shy tuck of hair behind your ear, the starfish pendant that sits in the deep of your collarbones, the plump pink of your lips he's had one too many dreams of.
On opposite ends of degrees, common ground is hard to find, but Sunghoon makes it work. Sees you leaving the library when he's coming in, watches you laugh with friends in the campus cafe, gets waited on by you at what's conveniently become his favourite bar despite its extortionate prices. The clubcard makes it worth it, Sunghoon reasons with the guys, but they know better. Know why it's his first suggestion in the first place.
An entire year is spent hovering on the edge of your social circle, a customer-service smile the most he gets when Sunghoon lucks out at the bar. He's not the daring type, so his extent of breaching conversation is trying to find you on dating apps, to no avail.
Unattainable. It must be why he's so bewitched, even when there's no hope. Pushed by the guys and their reality checks, Sunghoon forgoes his pursuit of the campus princess and…settles. Goes for the first girl who puts forward the same energy he wishes you'd give him.
Of course, in a cruel strike of fate, the day he asks Songyi out is the day you finally notice him. On the the neon light-up dance floor of your town's singular club, you tap his back, hand on his shoulder as you stand on the tips of your toes. You're tipsy, hinted in the slight slur of your words, yet it sends shivers down his spine all the same when your voice drops to a whisper reserved for his ears only.
Has he seen a mutual friend? He's never been more grateful not being shit-faced drunk. All the energy drinks his Vodka is mixed with jump start the thunder of his heart, lips parted in silent surprise as you drop to normal height. You're looking up at him with those eyes — hooded, lash-filled, like you want something from him. Because he'd give you everything in a heartbeat.
Sound struggles out his throat, somehow producing a cohesive answer when he's bent down to whisper back in your ear. You smell like vanilla and sweat, the thought of licking a stripe up the column of your neck making him strain against his baggy jeans. Thank yous fall from your pouty lips, a squeeze against his bicep before you're gone with the wind, ducking out to the smoking area where Sunghoon directs you.
It doesn't take him long to yell over the cheesy 2000s music if anyone wants to go out for a cig, prayer hands presented by Heeseung. Outside in the chill of early December, a large floodlight is the only source of light in the poor excuse of a smoking area, the literal front entrance of the over-priced club. It's almost alley-like, the size of four parking spaces but Sunghoon could care less. The whirl of cigarette smoke from Beomgyu and Heeseung doesn't even bother him. All that matters is finding you, which he does seconds later, a circle of friends surrounding you. Your tiny tank top provides little protection from the cold, hand running up your exposed arms with a cigarette between your manicured nails.
He wonders what it'd look like around his─
"There he is!" Your eyes flaring in a burst of recognition. Of excitement. Sunghoon can't quite believes his eyes or ears. "Get over here, handsome!"
It's one of the rare moments in his life he's at a loss for what to do, deer-in-the headlights look cast amongst his circle of friends who are just as confused. He'll dab up Jay later for shoving him forwards, your hand outstretched to pull him through a sea of people, placing him right beside you as you introduce him.
He's the kind stranger who helped you find your mutual friend, thus finding your group for the night. A soft hand cups him underneath his jaw, squishing his cheeks as your mouth runs about seeing him around often, the cute guy you've seen around in your words. Sunghoon kind of lets things happen, enjoying the receiving end of your drunk affection ─ how you pull him close by his belt loops and jokingly bump into him when he teases you. You're everything he's imagined and more ── sweet, witty and all the more alluring.
He leaves the club that night friends with you and regretting ever asking Songyi to be his. Because he'd never really be hers, not whilst you're around.
"Like a charm," Heeseung muses, a teasing eyebrow raise sent Sunghoon's way. "Imagine the luck - bagging Songyi the very same day she remembers he exists."
"Fuck off," Sunghoon barks louder than intended. The rolled eyes at their small table call him to clear his throat, gaining back some composure. "It is what it is, I guess."
"Spoken like a true gentleman," Jay's jokes are endless, as are his deserved rebuttals, another spill down his chin. "Okay, you fucking owe me a pint, asshat."
"Gladly."
The boys don't have time to register his actions nor his true intentions before Sunghoon's stalked off, swerving through the pool-playing crowd and into the crowded open bar space with its never-ending queues. On the TVs mounted around, various ice hockey games play, beer sloshed around each time an almost goal registers with the drunk crowd. Sunghoon catches your eyes hang on on the game, jaw tensed as you pour a drink with a tilt.
His interest in the game is non-existent, but he could be a fan if it means having one more thing in common with you. Sunghoon spends his time queuing doing this, watching you watch the game, serving people with a smile. It's not the same smile he gets out of you after that night, but it's similar in width. Only does it fill with warmth when he's made his way to the front, the mob dissipating on the far edge of the bar, a noticeable quietness here.
"Sunghoon," his name drips with honey, dazzling eyes peering up at him. "What can I get you?"
He swallows the cotton ball in his throat. "A San Miguel, please," he leans against the sticky wooden bar, leather jacket two shades darker. "How you holding up?"
"Good, all things considered," a breathless smile accents your words, hands working with diminished quickness. He doesn't allow himself to consider it's to spend more time with him. "My feet are shredded though. The joys of four inch heel boots."
He leans forwards as if it'll give him a better view, nothing but your mile-long legs in his sight. Fucks sake. "Did your boss make you wear them?"
"God no! This was all my idea," a hand's over your chest, nails matching your sight-for-sore-eyes top. "You know how the saying goes; beauty is pain, and all."
"That seems unnecessary."
"Hm?"
Turns out his whispers do meet your ears, curious blinks directed to him as the polished silver tap lets golden San Miguel fill the pint glass.
"Well, I mean…" if he wasn't making eye contact before, he isn't now. Darting between rainbow-assorted alcoholic drinks behind you, a darts board and the festive season's drink specials. Hand-drawn by yours truly. "You're already really pretty."
Suddenly, the bar shrinks to your own shared bubble, nothing but your awestruck face flooding his senses. The silence would be deafening if not for how hard his heart rabbits in his chest, damn near bruising because even if Songyi's not here to hear this, he shouldn't be saying it anyways.
"Coming from you?" you end up saying, pushing down the type of smile you can't hide."Sure know how to make a lady feel special, don't you?"
Someone would sure hope so. Sunghoon can only manage a tight-lipped beam, his drink perched on the bar-top with little to no foam.
You really are perfect.
Even more so when he goes to pay, the total reflected lower than his last.
"Hey, I think it's a bit sh─"
"Consider it a friendly discount," you wink, hand overlapping his, sliding from his wrist down to his fingertips. The shudder he experiences shakes him to his very core. "You know where I am for more."
Somehow, someway, Sunghoon stumbles back to his table, hand soiled in San Miguel after being jostled around. When Jay asks about his drink, his friend has no answer, just the far-off stare that lets them know they're in for a world of trouble.
The original plan for tonight is that Sunghoon and the guys load up on drinks at The Falcon, then make it to the club in time for midnight entry. All of them except for Sunghoon follow through, the latter hanging back outside the Falcon, frost of the December icing the roads as he waits for lights to turn off at the local bar.
It takes enough time for him to pop down to the nearby fried chicken place, fill his stomach and come back. He pops a breath mint for reasons unknown, wiping imaginary grease on his trousers as the remainder of your colleagues leave the dimmed business, trading curious gazes at his residual figure.
"Sunghoon?"
A conscious decision. Even though you've see him, he can still walk away. He can stil curse himself creating blurred lines and take his dirty secret to the grave.
Except he doesn't. He only stares at the dip in your cleavage as you strut over in heels that must be killing you, red leather shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. Your sheepskin coat is meant to provide some relief, but with how long it is, it swallows every bit of visible clothing on you.
It's a while before Sunghoon can get out any coherent words.
"Figured you could use the company," comes out scratchy, airy in some places."Here, take this."
Without thinking, he's slipping off his sneakers, stripping off his socks that will soak up the icy pavement anyways. On one knee he drops, peering up at you.
"Oh, I couldn't─"
“You will."
Unbeknownst to Sunghoon, something awakens in you at his final tone. Quiet compliance allows for him to unzip your boots, your hand braced against his shoulder as he slips off your shoes and puts his on. Silence dominates the low whisper of a half-asleep town, the tick of the pedestrian green light leading Sunghoon to walk alongside you, making sure you get home safe.
Amongst other things.
"The guys aren't with you…" you finally say, eyeing your boots he wouldn't let you carry.
"Yeah, they went out," he explains, walking closest to the road."I wasn't feeling it tonight."
The lone car on the road drives past your ambling figures, in no way diminishing the sound of your next words.
"So, I get you all to myself then," something mischievous curves your lips, a small part of Sunghoon's fantasies. "Wait, what was it you said earlier? I couldn't hear you, the bar was so loud."
When Jay couldn't stand his shit anymore and pushed Sunghoon to get his refill, the bar got busy again, no time for quiet conversation.
It just had to happen when Sunghoon had something to ask.
"The guys and I are throwing a party when we're all back, before exams," the words come out choppy, like he's frigid from the cold beneath his feet. It's what your assumption should be, rather than him being nervous. "It'd be g-good to see you there."
More silence.
And a sudden stop, your hands weighted in your beige coat's pockets as Sunghoon whirls around, in full view of you haloed by the lights of town centre.
"Did you wait until my shift was over to ask me?"
He shrugs, feigning indifference.
"It's dark out; I'm not the kind of guy who'd willing let you walk home alone," he mirrors you, hands in his back jean pockets instead. "It doesn't hurt I had something to tell you as well."
"Oh, Sunghoon," You say his name like it's sacred, a word shared only between you two. "As much as I appreciate the gesture, a text would do. You have my number, right?"
No, he doesn't. He's been kicking himself ever since that smoking area for not asking for it, because maybe it wouldn't be as weird asking as opposed to during the daylight of your campus. Prying eyes, creeping guilt, all that jazz.
He shakes his head no.
"Let's change that."
Under a pale yellow streetlight, Sunghoon gains the only number he's wanted in his phone, ignoring the one that's let him know she's let herself into the guys' house. You don't see it, his phone is on Do Not Disturb. Plus, it's harmless really, just contact information exchanged. He's done the same with people, other girls he's had group projects with.
You're not other girls though.
"Goodnight, Sunghoon." is the whisper you leave him with when you've reached your house. It's streets down from his.
When you disappear behind the closure of your front door, your absence is alarming. The walk back home is just as deafening, a gnaw carving at his chest cavity persisting until it's a black hole. He's still cold even after you've given back his shoes, squeezing his bicep again in thanks.
When Sunghoon gets back home, Songyi soundly sleeps in his bed, curling into him when he slips into bed. She looks peaceful, waves of midnight fragrant with citrus. He hasn't had the heart to tell her he hates oranges.
Not long after she dozes again, a light snore her tell, he pries himself away. Treading down the carpeted hall upstairs, he locks himself in the bathroom, fucking his fist to the thought of you and those damn shorts.
The Christmas break is agonizing. In addition to going back to his family who see no need for privacy, you text him from time to time, sending selfies of your latest adventures at home. Your ginger cat sleeping in your lap, the Christmas market your friends accompany you to, the white-icing Christmas cookies you make. Your nose is scrunched up, icing on the button of your nose. This is his agony, seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it.
At some point over the break, you don't text as much, don't text at all and Sunghoon worries. Worries that maybe you've found out about Songyi and he wouldn't say there goes his chance, but it's a feeling vaguely similar to that. Losing your proximity, the press of your touch, the sugary-sweet words you use only with him. He hasn't had you long but he can't stand the thought of losing you, not for anyone.
Ultimately, he doesn't have time to ponder longer since his degree demands attention, so he begrudgingly gives in. Studying through the days, helping out around the house, seeing old friends through the days leading to him driving up to uni again, a flutter in his chest. The guys are already setting up for the party, stacking up the red cups and getting out foldable tables for beer pong. Jake's even taken the liberty of putting up party decorations, in the middle of hanging up a gold party streamer in one of the walkways.
"Is that straight?" he quizzes from atop the step ladder.
"Just a bit to the right, then you're all good." Songyi instructs in her small, cautious tone. As if sensing his presence, her head whips back, expression alight with fondness. "Hoon, you're here!"
She barrels into his arms, hard pressed into his chest as his arms slowly circle her. He ignores Jake's blatant stare, opting to play his part as Songyi's boyfriend as he caresses the back of her head. He would've kissed her there, but the citrus scent is too strong for him to stay long.
"Tonight's gonna be amazing, I can't wait for everyone to get here."
He smiles, something wicked behind it. "Me too."
A friend of a friend who Jay knows holds down the aux for the night, his very own deck assembled in the middle of the spacious living room. Strobe lights flash, every colour under the sun dotted on the walls otherwise tainted in darkness, bustling conversation and warm bodes swarming their house not built for so many occupants. Sunghoon usually wouldn't be too pleased queueing for the bathroom in his own house, but the carefree atmosphere is something he's desperately needed after being shackled to his study desk. Not that exams are over, or have even started, but it's good to have the break before he has to clock in for obscenely long shifts at the library.
It doesn't hurt you texted him earlier, asking for his address. You'd also shown him your outfit options, questioning whether either of the three are too 'dressy.'
He has to take a moment outside to collect himself.
The text was sent over an hour ago, so you should be here. On his way back into the house, Jake catches him by his shoulder, eyebrows hardset through his wispy fringe.
"You wouldn't happen to know why she's here, would you?" he asks.
No need for elaboration. They both know who she is.
"Not a clue," he pouts, ignoring the hard pulse in his neck. "The parties' all over everyone's story. Maybe she invited herself."
Jake doesn't buy it.
"Your girlfriend's here," he grits out, white-knuckling his best friend's shoulder. "Remember that."
He deserts him for more light-hearted conversation, blending into the group of people seamlessly, Sunghoon long forgotten.
Don't I know. He'd stew longer in Jake's words but the rush of adrenaline through him propels him elsewhere. To you, finally here. Which explains why he's sifting through the crowd for you, coming through their backyard (makeshift smoking area) into the kitchen, venturing into the living room where he promptly halts.
Against one of the white walls of the room, adorned with cutout faces of everyone living in the house (Jake and Songyi's idea) is you, beautiful as ever. You're wearing a sequin skirt only you could pull off, a plain off the shoulder top showing enough skin to drive Sunghoon wild with your starfish necklace completing the look. His night should be made; you're here, in his living room, at the house party that will surely to be remembered.
Except you're talking to none other than Songyi.
A boulder-like weight sinks down in his stomach like an anchor, a greenish feeling invading his weakening body. You're talking, very much engaged in conversation as Songyi uses her hands talking in your ear, your occasional nod a sign of understanding. Maybe the understanding that Sunghoon's a bum, a man with no backbone. A man who's already emotionally cheated, so what's stopping him from doing it physically? The room spins, Equator-hot as light strobes feed into his overstimulation.
Before Sunghoon can scramble for the words, you spot him. The look is brief, no indication for the second that feels like an hour before your hand raises in a wave, politeness curving on your lips. Songyi follows your line of sight, giving one clap before she flags him over, pulling him through dancing bodies since his feet are paralysed with fear.
Fear of the unknown, of the reality he may have ruined being deceitful.
Songyi hangs off his bicep, her hold not as comforting. Sunghoon hates this, being on the other end of a conversation with you, not beside you like he wants. At least it gives him a vantage point to see what you're thinking, not that your expression gives it away.
"This is the guy I was telling you about," Songyi yells over the music. "My boyfriend, Sunghoon."
A bomb might as well have gone off, its aftermath forcing his eyes shut as all he can do is await his fate. Nothing's up for discussion, Sunghoon has sent clear signs he's interested in you. You'd be something else to think otherwise, you'd be right to chew him out in front of everyone.
"I heard," your lips' curve extends, hand held out for a shake. Sunghoon can only blink. "He's a regular at my bar. Never goes elsewhere."
Under duress is how he shakes your hand, the live-wire spark still the same for those fleeting seconds, your grip on his a second too long. He doesn't meet Songyi's gaze.
"The Falcon, right? God, he might as well rent a room there," his girlfriend rolls her eyes, swatting at his chest. "I've been trying to put him on other bars, but turns out he's pretty stubborn."
"He knows where home is," you say, loud enough to be heard. "I guess."
Through his eyebrows, he looks at you, you already looking at him. He doesn't know what you're up to, not the slightest clue, but he'll find out soon enough.
His night continues like this, on edge. You don't allow him a moment alone, occupied with groups of friends like the social butterfly you are. There's even a point where you're with Jay, Heeseung and Jake. Upon seeing him, his friends save for Jake give him flared eyes, your presence gone as soon as he nears. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or say. All he knows is he's chasing after you. In his own damn house, with Sonyi on his arm.
Somehow time evades him, the desolation of their trashed house speaking to the late hour. Three in the morning. By then, the cops have come round, snarky neighbours making a noise compliant that after the threat of arrest, people filter out.
All that's left is half-hung decorations, a red-cupped floor and missing forks in their utensils draw. The strobe lights are still going, their crackled murmur background noise. Jay's friend of a friend, Johnny paid his dues, had the roof nearly cave in from how hard people were jumping around, and is gone too.
It's a mess. The house and his friends who are nowhere to be found. Songyi went upstairs earlier complaining of a migraine, Jake's gone to smoke a joint two doors down, Jay's passed out on the toilet and Heeseung is miraculously losing his virginity. In a surprise turn of events, he manages to charm your friend from the bar, Sieun. And someway, in the dying minutes of the party, she leads him up the stairs to his room. He'd given Sunghoon the biggest thumbs up before he disappeared. Not a soul left behind.
A cup crushes beneath a foot, turning his head.
His breath catches.
There you are, doused in delicate kitchen light, stepping into the lounge like you're his saviour. Bashfulness pulls at your features, so put together despite the mess surrounding you.
"Figured you could use the help," you offer, a playful spread amongst your features. "Payback for the other night."
The rubbish bag floats out his hand, picked up with a flush. "You don't have to."
"I want to," it's final, your tone. Firm, knowing. "Let me help you."
With a deep swallow, he resumes picking up rubbish in the common areas of their house, lost possessions mixed in with trash people didn't try putting away. As per your suggestion, he finds an empty beer box, used as the lost and found box you'll post about on your socials for everyone to find. You work without many words, only exchanging some when necessary. It's not the same silence you shared back before the holidays, that was tender, almost pure. This…is charged, festering. Pushing under his fingernails, attuning him to every sound you make.
Eventually, when all rubbish is cleared and stacked outside on the curb for collectors come daybreak, Sunghoon collapses to the couch, springs hissing under him. You hovered behind him outside and now inside, some hesitation riddles your movements. Sunghoon misses it with his head lolled back, arm covering his eyes for a moment's break.
You're revealed to him when the hesitation is gone, cast in the soft orange wall light of the living room, strobe lights and TV turned off.
During the party, you'd watched the hockey game playing, just as you'd done at Falcon. The difference is that Sunghoon now knows the roaster, an app downloaded on his phone for the latest gameday news.
"Want me to order you an uber?" he asks, voice wavering. He's nervous, running shaky hands up and down the grain of his jeans. "I'd drive you home, but I've had a drink. Or many. I could walk you home if you─"
"I'm good here."
Your words hang for a moment, a guillotine of crashing reality Sunghoon's mind is scrambling to comprehend.
"O…kay?"
He's defenceless, watching you fold onto the couch beside him, one leg crossed with your knee touching his. Even through fabric, your touch is searing. Sunghoon would jolt back, as he pretends he doesn't, but he's frozen in place, perplexed.
Not getting his hopes up.
"So," you start, vanilla scent wafting his way. "Your girlfriend…she's cute."
Sunghoon's lightheaded, dots dominating his feverishly-blinked vision. "Yeah."
"How long you been dating for?"
"A few weeks," Sunghoon answers, unsure. "Give or take."
Your chin lifts, searching. "When's the first time you saw me?"
"Mid October, last year," he replies straightaway. "You'd just started working at Falcon."
A pause, a purposeful one meant to underline how his two responses differ according to who they involve.
"Hm," your elbow props into the storm grey blanket over the ripped leather couch, chin in your palm. His body's not facing you, but he's got his head craned to you. "Interesting."
Sunghoon feels vulnerable, stripped to his barest in what's meant to be the comfort of his home. Only now, it feels like your evil lair.
"Were you gonna tell me?"
Was he? Sunghoon isn't sure, like many things in his buzzing brain. This predicament, your knee on him, how much he likes you, why he's still with his girlfriend. The latter haunts him more than he likes, a discomfort he pushes into a door slammed shut. Yet, it fights back, piling out of the door, demanding an answer.
And truthfully, he doesn't have a clear answer. He just didn't want to be the dickhead who breaks up with Songyi the day they got together.
Rather, he's the dickhead who's cheating on her.
His fingers interlace, a ricochet inside him. "Do you─" he clears his throat, struggling. Not looking at you. "Do you care?"
Another pause. Tonight's been full of them, a lot contemplated with the absence of words.
"No."
He's live-wire again, shuddering out a breath desperately pushing out his fragile lungs. The house is cold, gusts of wind carrying through cracked open windows in the lounge. He shivers, not from the temperature, because you're quickly undoing every stitch of restraint he has.
"I wish I could control myself with you." he admits. To himself, to you.
"Don't," is your low answer, shifting out his peripheral. "It's no use."
At the turn of his head, your knee presses into him further. You're closer now, and he's finally turned his body towards you, a mess of limbs, even messier people owning them. Everything is still, not even the early morning birds crowing, almost as if the rest of the world has left you two behind.
The thought makes everything after this easier.
No one knows who leans in first, but he feels it, the hover of your face and the fan of your breath. It's syrupy sweet, a burst of flavour once your lips press together. His life is never the same again, light and colour so vivid that he can't go back to things before, the imprint of your lips forever remembered. Fingers in his hair, you tether yourself to him to keep yourself from sinking further into desire, the hard pull earning a drawn out moan, muffled by the smacks of moving lips.
Unfathomable greed dictates your actions, not enough closeness between each other, so you straddle him, his large hands skimming your sides, thumb tracing patterns into goosebump-riddled skin. Sunghoon takes, deepening the kiss by gliding a tentative stripe to your bottom lips, welcoming your taste. Finally, he knows what you taste like - an undercurrent of Diet Pepsi and that strawberry gum he sees you smack on.
A hitch in your breath comes when his hands venture further, cold against your warming skin, thumbs running over your hardened nipples. A mewl bleeds into the kiss, hips in prime position for a grind you give into. His grip tightens on your ribcage, shuffling slightly to meet your next grind coming in waves. The scratch of his jeans against your damp underwear creates the friction you've long craved.
Moments pass like this, drinking each other in, tongues brushing, moans swallowed before you pull back. Not enough to bring frigidness into your fold, but enough to catch your breath, forehead pressed to his.
His face is in your hands, held like porcelain as your thumb graze. Comb over his eyebrows, down the slope of his neck, over his plump kissed lips, thumb pad catching the fan of his breath against it. Hands move again, cupping his cheeks as your eyes brim with hidden affection.
"You're so handsome."
A few chaste kisses are all Sunghoon gets before your lips migrate, starting their journey on the sharp edge of his jaw, down the column of his neck. Focused on branding his skin, Sunghoon's hands take control of your aimless hips, grinding you flush against his erection. He groans, teeth in his bottom lip so he can continue getting away with this, you on him and everything it entails. Before he comes to, you're on your knees, pleased as can be as you unbutton his black jeans, lowering them with his underwear to expose his cock.
A desire to pull up his trousers and run off gnaws at his overheating skin, his thoughts muddling as you don't hide how enamoured you are by his cock. He's bigger than you're used to, shaft ribbed with angry veins with a fat tip leaking enough precome to make your stomach turn. The tip of your index finger descends from his happy trail, following stray veins as his skin quivers under your touch, finger running along the veins of his cock to the tip, thumb running over his slit. Because you can't help yourself, you lick him off your thumb.
Sunghoon swears his brain malfunctions, conjures images that can only remain true in the realm of his wildest dreams because there's simply no way you're on your knees for him, licking his come like it's the best thing you've tasted. He groans, fingers moving into your hair as you cover his tip in chaste kisses, swirling your tongue flat against the skin, contact eliciting a hiss through his bared teeth.
He can't remember when last he got a blowjob, Songyi shy and intimidated enough by his size and sex in general to only go as far as a handjob. Her hands barely fit around him, inexperience leaving her stranded for what to do in compensation. But you know, hand seeking out the slick between your legs to lather the rest of his length from harsh friction. It's the single most hottest thing he's ever seen, the grin you do afterwards a close second as you take him into your mouth, jaw unhinging to cover all your bases.
Your head starts to bob, working him further into you, hand close behind your lips forming a tight tunnel to make up for the inches you can't take. The sloppy work of the blowjob eats away at the quiet of the night, Sunghoon's groans and whines thrown in to complete the image as he relishes in the comfort of your mouth. You're so good at it, knowing the right pressure, messy with the level of enthusiasm that slightly worries him he'll come too soon.
It's like you're drunk off him, rhythm never wavering as greed controls how much of his twitching cock you stuff yourself with, getting overzealous as his tip pushes past a gag point. Your throat closes up, a hard gag fluttering around his tip. His fingers go to pull hard at your strands before he remembers better and releases.
Noticing his motions, you pry from him with saliva overlining your lips, hands taking over.
"It's okay," you almost laugh, eyes creased with innocent-like laughter. "You can be a little rough with me. I promise I'll like it."
Sharpness prickles at his spine, surprised. "Y-you sure?"
"Yeah," you nod, tongue swirling around his tip again, only this time you're looking him square in the eyes. "Pull my hair, fuck my throat─it'll make taking you easier."
The groan Sunghoon emits is almost carnal, everything within him used to not flood your mouth with come. You get back to bobbing on his cock, pushing yourself to see how far you can take him even if you gag, water lining your eyes as you cycle through routine gags. The fullness of your throat pulls your nipples taut, your underwear sticking to you in tortured mess.
"Hold on, I'm gonna come," he pants, forehead creased as his hand pull harder on your hair. The smile against his length tells him you don't care for his warning, your pace increases. At this point, you don't care much for what your body can't take, only making him come, your wish quickly coming true.
Sunghoon's rendered desperate enough, shallow bucks of his hips meeting the back of your throat, pleased hums vibrating around him done to undo him. He hits the back of your throat one last time, his hands on either side of your head as he comes down your throat. Pure filth oozes out his lips, moans seeping deep into your bones, choking on the taste of him.
As Sunghoon returns from the wall of pleasure he's rammed into, his body sinks back while his grip loosens on you. Bringing your head up, you showcase his latest masterpiece as your lips detach with a wet pop.
You're filthy, half your face smeared in slobbered saliva and his come, and yet, you've never looked more perfect. So his, tongue darting out to lick the corners of your mouth, eyes moon crescents as you smile at him, a sheepish giggle following.
He's already hard.
"I can't wait anymore."
Surprise splashes onto your face. "You don't need a minute to…?"
"I've waited long enough," his thumb catches one last trace of come, dragging back to the centre of your lips where you lick it clean. His cock kicks, filling in.
Ever the gentlemen, he helps you to your feet, pulling you onto his lap before you toss your top aside, breasts on full display. The fact you didn't bother wearing a bra kept him semi-hard the entire night.
You collapse into messy kisses again, noses bending to dull aches, moans muffled to plush lips moving in unison. Everything is frantic and all-consuming, his shirt tossed aside to the roam of your hands, ghosting over his muscled torso while he grabs a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh to the high whine of your throat.
"I didn't want─" he pants, licking over your lips to make you shiver. "─to do this on the couch."
He sounds so sincere, so sweet. You can't help but chuckle a little, indenting gentle teeth marks into his lip.
"If it were up to me, we'd be doing this on your bed next to her," you murmur, smirking into his quiet gasp. "But this works. As long as I have you."
"You always did."
You're so pressed to stick together, your skirt only bunches up on your hips, making small ridges into your hips. Sunghoon lowers his jeans enough to free himself, his cock standing tall, throbbing with a leaking tip that's red enough to hurt.
"Fuck," he curses, transfixed on you pulling your underwear to the side, material soaked through. "I don't have a condom."
"Don't need it," you hum, hips lifting with your hands guiding his tip along your cunt, a shaken breath shared between you two. "Oh, fuck."
It's the last thing you utter before you're sinking down on his length, sighs of relief heaved in the heated space between your quivering bodies. Sunghoon's holding your hips like a lifeline, head tipped enough to catch your every micro-expression ─ the pleased knit of your brows, the low hang of your jaw, whimpers of pleasure as you ease onto him. Your chest rises and falls in deep breaths, gummy walls burning to the stretch they mould to, devouring every inch Sunghoon has to offer. The lone hand on his shoulder attempts to burrow into his skin, almond-shaped nails gripping for a sliver of stability.
"Holy fuck," he huffs, eyes dropping down to where you're clenching around him. "You're so─shit. You're so damn tight."
"You're huge, what the─" a groan empties out of you the moment you near the base of his cock, features pulled taut. "So full..give a minute."
Through gritted teeth, you attempt to acclimatize to his size, slippery walls working overtime as they flutter around him. Sunghoon's losing his mind, panting like a dog as he fights off the urge to really fill you, teeth seeking yours as they snag onto your bottom lip, drawing back with anguish and the taste of blood.
His need seeps through to you, fuel to your burning fire as your energy harnesses in your hips, moving to drag his cock from under his tip down near his pelvis. You're not working with much speed, but he's hitting so deep inside to draw out meek mewls, his hands pushing underneath your ass to give you more leverage.
"Oh God," he whines, halfway apart as your cunt milks him dry. It doesn't help your breasts swing in his face, coming down with the force of your combined thrusts. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect on me."
"I can't take it all," you whine, near tears with moisture dampening your lashes, a hopeless daze in your eyes. "Move me, it's okay. I d-dont have to walk tomorrow."
"You're taking me so well already," one hand leaves from underneath you, on the back of your head as he leans in to kiss your hairline.
An abandoned thought comes to mind. "Open your mouth."
"Huh?"
"I said," his hips lift, knocking hard enough to release a low-level screech. "Open your mouth."
Malleable to his will, you comply, helped by the iron-clad grip under your chin before he spits on your tongue. Sunghoon thinks he watches you shatter, features screwed together as a deep moan echoes through you. His back sinks further into the couch, both hands back on your hips to fuck you on him, using you like you said he could.
"This isn't working."
Out your syrupy daze, some leftover sense clings to his words, frowning in confusion. Before you can ask what he means, his large arms wrap around you, standing to his feet. Letting out a yelp, your legs cling to him, wondering endless possibilities before you're put on your back, legs spread. Sunghoon has one knee bent on the couch, his other foot on the ground. His fingers card through his hair, pushing it back before he lines himself up again, slipping right in.
"Better," he sighs in true relief, the sharpness of his canines resembling an animal. "Now I can fuck you how I want."
"How you want." he beams before giving you his worst, months of endless pining coming to a head.
Guilt ceases to exist as he pulls out till his tip remains inside, pushing forwards to bury himself to the hilt. A loud squelch accompanying his thrusts, a river's worth of slick dribbling out your cunt and onto the grey blanket.
"You're─hmph, tighter than before," Sunghoon manages a chuckle, thrusts buckling under your vice grip. "How does that work?"
"I'm taking all of you, t-that's why," you smirk, head tilted like you can do no wrong. "Are you proud of me?"
His surprise doesn't stop him this time, a gradual tempo building with the bounce of your breasts. "I will be when you come on my cock."
A flip has switched. Sunghoon's no longer the bashful man who'd tremble at the thought of complimenting you, reservation letting you get away with touches he secretly adores. Now, he's a culmination of every day he couldn't have you.
"Do people know?" he asks, fucking you harder. "Do your friends know how much you love taken dick?"
Knots twist your stomach to never unravel, arms covering your eyes having little to do with silencing your moans, decibels climbing each time Sunghoon knocks into you.
"Don't stoooop," you slur, cunt pulsating around his length. "My stomach…!"
A mean laugh hits your ears. "You can feel me in your stomach?" One hand abandons the top of your thigh, the heel of his palm pressing down onto the faint outline in your stomach. "Is that where I am?"
"Yes!" you hiccup, brain turning to mush as the dulled stretch of his cock wanes to an rush of ecstasy, heavy balls smacking against the flesh of your ass.
"So loud, baby," his ears flood, the thought of getting caught more enticing than troubling. "Want the whole house knowing how dirty you are? Want her knowing what a good whore you are for me?"
You clamp down hard on him, boiling down to the singular thought of coming. Sunghoon does you a favour by speeding up the process, fingertips collecting slick splashed back on your thighs to rub over your clit, rush of his fingers pulling out a high-pitched squeal.
"Where's your fucking manners?"
Old couch springs show their age as they hiss under Sunghoon's moving weight, the slap of your bodies dangling in the air like an open secret. You sound like you're heaven-sent, so helpless to the overwhelm of pleasure as Sunghoon's cock bullies into you, blush blooming beneath your sweat-veiled skin.
"Hoonie, I─" you choke on the words, pressed for air. "I'm close."
"Am too, sweet girl," Sunghoon huffs, his thrust becoming more frantic. "Tell me you want this forever, tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours. I love being yours," you cry, teary eyes staring up at him, pulling him down by his chain. "Give me what I want. Fill me up."
His hips stutter then, oxygen knocked out of him. "Want my come?"
"Want it so bad, Hoonie!"
"Okay, baby," he twitches, your gummy walls his demise. "Take it. Take my come, sweet girl."
"Sung─ah!"
It's too late, the thread's already snapped, orgasms hitting at the same time. Divine timing, as it's always been with you two, bodies suspended in the temporary bliss of your highs. It's unlike anything either of you have experienced, vision a blinding white as a thick stream of come coats your walls in a warm welcome. Sunghoon looks at you the entire time, watching your eyes roll, the map of delight in the details of your face. There's a shine about you, so special in his eyes, the single memory he wishes to die with.
Eventually, the world starts to come back, timelapse setting back to real world time, exhausted pants occupying the air. Sunghoon doesn't know what to think or how to feel, his body on auto-pilot as he falls on his ass opposite you, head hanging off the couch's arm. Weak arms haul you onto the opposite end, limbs tangled like the web of lies you'll continue to weave, tonight only the beginning.
According to the internet, any sex involving the exchange or contact of blood binds two souls together, their fate forever sealed in time. A hoax to some, but an inkling of truth to Sunghoon as he tries to pick up the pieces of that night.
By the grace of a higher power, you two don't get caught, lost in a trance of kisses until the Uber honks outside his house. Sunghoon sleeps on the couch, at least having the heart not to slip into the bed you spoke of defiling, girlfriend none the wiser. Jake wakes him up not much later, holding a store-bought cake he insists on Sunghoon help icing with the word virgin crossed out. When the man of the hour finally comes downstairs─Sieun already having left─party poppers and horns go off, celebratory claps earning Heeseung's hand over his heart, smile the widest they've seen.
Songyi comes down after Heeseung embellishes his story, draped in articles of Sunghoon's clothing. He wonders what you'd look like in the same outfit.
A lot of his thoughts trace back to you, in fact. Not made any better by the onslaught of texts you exchange throughout the day, Songyi picking up most of Sunghoon's slack when he's meant to be cleaning. No regret is mentioned, only the desire to see each other again.
Sunghoon's never felt so alive.
Unfortunately, your arrangement has a bit of a slow start. Rarely do you see each other in the following weeks, handcuffed to study desks and library tables as exams take a toll of the student population. It's always torture, but a special kind this time because in the facade of his life, Sunghoon has little to no time to see you. The most he gets is is the odd day in the library, sat tables away from where you work with friends, grabbing your ass when you pass by.
However, when Sunghoon walks out the hall of his last exam, he waves to his classmates and beelining to your house where you tangle in sheets stained in deceit. Days later, when all the guys are finished their exams, bar names are thrown around as a means of celebration.
To no one's surprise, they end up at the Falcon.
Twenty minutes before rush hour, few souls dot about, the guys lucking out with no queues. You're working tonight, the same scene bringing about shared looks amongst their group. Unfazed, Sunghoon approaches the bar in a confident strut, a knee-knocking smoulder presented to your beaming figure.
"What can I get you, gentlemen?" you bite back a grin, drying off the last few pint glasses.
The guys list their orders, not subtle with cast looks over to Sunghoon. He doesn't buckle like he used to, a calm front maintained as he places his order last.
His elbow braces against the wooden bar-top, a playful arch to his eyebrows. "How about a friendly discount?"
You're picking out their glasses, shaking your head with a chuckle.
"No can do. My boss is onto me," your cheeks bunch up in the smile you can't hide much longer. "The best I can do is this,"
In real time, the guys witness Sunghoon and you lean towards each other, quick lock of your lips blowing their heads right off. Sunghoon pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip, mischief in your features as you add on. "Grab a seat. I'll come over with those drinks."
Without a hitch, Sunghoon leads the way to their corner table of the bar, the pool table occupied again. The ongoing game is the least of Jay's concerns, his and the rest of the guys bewildered stares boring into Sunghoon's skull.
"What the hell was that?" Heeseung breaks first.
"Aren't you with, what's her face?" Jay says, snapping his fingers with nothing to show for it.
"Songyi." supplies Jake, a dirty knit to his face. "Are you cheating on her?"
Their longtime friend doesn't elaborate, not bothering with words as Sunghoon fishes out his phone out from his pocket. After a few careless swipes, his phone is pushed to the centre of the round table, his three roommates leaning in to read the tragic texts.
Sunghoon: I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore.
Sunghoon: There's somebody else.
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Love me, love me not, love me (not)? (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)
Summary: You get into the hospital and wake up to pretty shocking Breaking News that can make even your usually calm blood boil. It gets you back to your first relationship that ended in half a day. But it also helps you open your eyes to the changes a person you have tried to avoid for the past ten years went through.
Words counting: 3912
BREAKING NEWS!: Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight saved the fellow pro-hero OvershO2t! Dynamight went out of an already collapsed building caring OvershO2t bridal-style. The fans can’t stop talking about their interaction and some of the most searched words have been “Dynamight x Overshoot moments”. The heroes have a long history together, being classmates in elementary and middle school. Unfortunately, in high school they were separated, only to reunite as pro-heroes, working at agencies that are less than a bus station away from each other. Since their school years, they have been shipped because of their similar quirks: Dynamight produces nitroglycerin in his sweat which helps him create explosions. While Overshoot can control the concentration of oxygen within a radius max ten meters around her, helping her create fires and explosions. Our reporters are at the hospital where the pro-heroes have been admitted, waiting for a confirmation of their relationship from their PR managers.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you mumbled to your secretary which made the young woman gasp in shock and take a step back. It was one of the few times she heard you cursing. Immediately, she came back to her senses and came closer to you, to make sure you weren’t injuring yourself even more. “I bet this is his PR-team’s move. Can’t believe he hasn't changed one bit since middle school.”
The secretary looked at you softly, nearly motherly, even if she was a little younger than you. She and her boyfriend had been high school sweethearts, so your secretary was also full of compassion every time you had to interact with Dynamight, considering that your only relationship has been with him, more than ten years ago and didn't even last a day. The drawbacks of hero life: being too busy to date. She was even sure that you had been suffering from the lack of love all these years, ignoring how dedicated you had always been to your job and how bright your smile was every time a mission was successful.
“I didn’t get any information from Dynamight’s PR managers,” the young woman explained to you. If she said it, it was most probably true, considering her boyfriend was one of Bakugo’s PR managers. You weren't naive enough to think this couple of high school sweethearts weren't talking about everything going on at their workplaces.
“HEY! Lame-name!” you heard from behind the door, one second before it opened. You looked at your secretary and fell back in the bed dangerously fast, faking sleep. The shock on her face was the reason Bakugo understood that you weren’t sleeping at all. But even if you were, you highly doubted that he cared enough not to make a scene. “How are you feeling? You’re alive?”
You opened one eye and looked at the messy blonde.
“No. I’m dead. Please, go away. I want to decompose in silence.”
But instead of listening to your desire, your former classmate ran towards you and knelt in front of your bed, taking your hand in his.
“I thought you were dead. There was so much blood everywhere,” but before you could get soft even for a second, he continued: “Couldn’t you choose a day to die when we weren’t working on the same case?”
Fuck you, Bakugo! Fuck you! You screamed internally but didn't say a word because you were the calm explosion hero, not the mad one, whose own neurons weren't capable of cooperating.
“Sorry. On the other days I tried to get myself killed, I was paired with people I do actually respect,” you answered and turned your back to him. However, as you put more pressure on your shoulder, a striking pain hit you and made you jolt. It made you also remember that the throbbing head pain that was bothering you all this time wasn't caused by the news, but by an actual trauma.
You looked at the person who saved you: a cast around his ankle that you had no idea how he ignored when he threw himself on his knees, an adhesive dressing on his cheek on the same side he had his other scar from his first year of high school, and another dressing around his scarred forearm. You didn't know if he got this while saving you or before. His fingers seemed bruised and it made you think that he probably tried to move the cement block that fell on you with his bare hands, too afraid to hurt you with his explosions. You weren't that close with Bakugo, but you worked with him enough to know that when he was very stressed, it was hard for him to calculate the force of his explosions. That was why he was way better at combat than at rescuing the wounded – another reason why you were paired with him so often. Having the agencies in the same neighborhood, Dynamight often called Overshoot to help in missions with lots of victims. Gentle, good with kids, very good at mental math, and hypnotizingly soft-spoken: these were the adjectives most often used by victims who described you in interviews after you saved their life. In comparison with Bakugo, you lacked in speed, be it decision making or physical – which he never forgot to remind you and rub it in your face – but your serenity worked as a spell on scared kids and panicked adults. Even Bakugo used to tell you this in school, before your failed relationship.
You hated to remember that day, but it appeared in front of your eyes every time Bakugo did something kind towards you – and since you became a pro, it had happened a lot of times. In the last year of middle school, both you and Bakugo were fourteen-year-olds. While some of your colleagues were either afraid of him, or were following him blindly, you were one of the few in a neutral-to-good relationship with him. It was good enough for you to consider him a friend, but weak enough to be afraid of losing contact after graduating, especially because your family wanted to move to the other side of the country and you were supposed to join Ketsubutsu Academy, not U.A. Bakugo had always been smart, talented, and organised, which made you see him as an example and a person to lean on. Moreover, you had similar quirks. From time to time, you were even trying to suppress a crush on him from forming. But soon, you understood that all those troubles were meaningless and would solve on their own.
And everything was because Bakugo was a heartless idiot. There was no other explanation. The fact that he was always making fun and bullying Izuku should have made you understand it. However, due to your age-corresponding naivety, you needed a lesson for yourself. You got it, and Oh! How it hurt! It hurt enough to understand that people that were bad towards others around them would most probably be the same to you.
How could you be that naive, even at fourteen, to think that Bakugo Katsuki – the same Bakugo Katsuki that had an entire army of boys marching behind him while he was telling them how everyone sucked and only he was fantastic – had a crush on you? Yes, he wrote in his hand-write – you recognised it because you sat near him enough times to do it – a love letter in which he said that he had always seen you as a “partner in crime” and hold lots of respect for you, how your quirk didn’t influence your soft and kind personality even a little bit, and he looked up to you. But it wasn’t the reason behind his letter, he wanted you to be his girlfriend and conquer the hero world together.
When he gave you this letter, he asked you to read it in front of him and give him an answer right away. It was early in the morning – you always came earlier to have some time to prepare for the lessons and he knew it – so you had time to read and answer. The letter made you smile and you could feel your cheeks getting red. The classmate with the best quirk in the school and probably one of the best in the entire country, admired you too, in both personal and “professional” ways. Maybe you could convince your parents to let you study at U.A. or have a long distance relationship with Bakugo? You could study together, train together, go to internships together. There were so many things you could enjoy with Bakugo, or could you call him Katsuki already? You looked up at him and he wasn’t looking at you, he was staring out of the window and you found it very cute, as if he was embarrassed. Bakugo Katsuki actually had a heart and feelings! But, Oops! You didn’t answer him yet.
“I also hold a lot of respect for you Bakugo, and I would like us to continue growing together as partners in crime and in love,” your smile was so big, some of your words were barely recognizable, but it was enough to make a tint of pink appear on Bakugo’s cheeks.
“Then let’s go home together today,” your now boyfriend whispered while looking at the door and ran away.
All the time to the last period went too slow and you couldn’t help but space out and always smile, which your classmates sensed immediately and started asking you about it. Your closest friends at that time knew you enough to suspect you got a boyfriend and you told them you did, but couldn’t say yet who he was. You wanted to go on a date first and then tell them everything about how Katsuki was when he was in love. He had to be super cute, with those strong arms that were probably giving the best, comfiest hugs full of reassurement, with the way he turned a little bit of pink when talking about his feelings, with the way he looked so boyish when embarrassed.
And the last five minutes of school finally passed and you got ready as fast as possible, telling your friends to wait for updates from you. When you left the school, your boyfriend was talking with his friends, the boys that were always following him around.
“Bakugo, are you ready to go home?” you asked with the sweetest voice possible, shifting your weight from one leg to another. And everyone stopped talking. In your memories, even the birds stopped chirping.
“Give me your lunch money, boys. I told you I can make the most popular girl in the school believe I have a crush on her!” was what Bakugo hissed without even looking at you.
You didn’t know for sure, but you had a gut feeling that if he looked at you, he would have understood what he had done. All the boys around him were his loyal “friends” following him everywhere and doing everything he asked them to, but no one moved that time. Your backpack fell on the ground and everything started to get foggy. Some voices you couldn’t recognize at that moment were asking if you were okay. It took you some time to get enough force to take your bag back and move away from there. But unfortunately, you didn’t know the school yard well enough not to stumble while seeing nothing. Soon, you were on the ground with all the things from your backpack falling again. At home, you saw that a few pens and one notebook disappeared and that your long socks had holes around the knee, while your knees were bleeding. But you were numb. Good thing it happened a few weeks before graduating, because you started to ignore everyone except your closest friends, afraid they were pranking their friendliness and interest in you too.
It stopped in high school, where you could start anew. And you were sure you grew out of it until you found out that your new-founded agency was a few blocks away from Dynamight’s new agency. From then on, on nearly all the big missions you were together. No one, not even his former high school classmates, spent so many working hours with him. Was it pissing you off? Not that much. There was one single problem: you were searching for hidden meaning in everything Bakugo did. And even if he now was kneeling in front of you, after he risked his life saving you, you couldn’t take him seriously.
“I know what you did, Dynamight,” after middle school you never called him anything else except his hero name. Deep down, you wanted him to think you forgot his name. “I saw how you dropped drastically in the rating last week after one of the victims you saved accused you of being heartless for yelling at her. You were called a misogynist, and heartless forever-alone that was obvious for everyone why he didn’t have a girlfriend. Of course, now you need someone to fit into your fans’ fantasies about how good of a boyfriend you actually were. No, how good of a man. And the only reason you carried me bridal-style out of the building is probably to feed in their shipping obsession, so that next news about you won’t be about you being an incel.”
When you looked at the faces of the two people present in your ward, you saw your secretary slowly walking backwards to the exit. She was so busy doing it silently that she didn’t even close her mouth after the shock you caused her. She stopped right under the door frame and stared at you. Bakugo took the handle on your bed to support himself while getting up. Upon seeing it, you stood on your butt and held onto his forearm to give him support on his other side. After he got on his feet, he looked at your hands that were still holding him. You retrieved them and looked at your “ex” directly in his eyes.
“That’s what I don’t understand about you, Y/N,” he started. It was one of the rare times he was addressing you with your real name. It was always taking you aback, because you sometimes thought he forgot you knew each other since before. “I send you flowers to your office, and you post photos of them on your social media account. I ask you as my plus-one at events, and you accept. I send you bento boxes nearly daily at your agency and you always tell the delivery guy to thank the sender. And now you accuse me of using you for media play?”
You weren’t friends with Bakugo. You weren’t even enemies. He was simply pissing you off every now and then, making you question everything that seemed rational. You had always been on edge when Overshoot and Dynamight had to work together. But you thought you grew to somehow understand him. And now, he sounded genuinely hurt. However, it couldn’t stop you from: What the fuck, Bakugo Katsuki?! What the actual fuck! at him inside your head.
“I once helped the owner of the flower shop from which you buy the flowers that you give me, so I was sure he was simply giving me thank-you gifts. Asking me if I go to an event and telling me the time you are going to be there is not asking me to be your plus one, Bakugo. And I was sure the bentos were sent by your PR manager to my secretary, because they had little cute drawings on them every time. I didn’t even know you could draw! I have never eaten them whole, always giving them to her. And, of course, I thank the delivery guy and the sender. I do have manners!”
You wanted to add Unlike you, but after everything he said, it didn’t seem right to attack him even more. Bakugo didn’t answer anything to your explanation, nor did he laugh or get mad. His face just looked deep in thoughts. He limped to the exit, making your secretary nearly stumble, trying to think where to go to let him pass. In the end, your former classmate turned to you before exiting the room: “I do really regret everything I did in the past, Overshoot. But I have actually had a crush on you since forever.”
You looked as he disappeared, trying to understand the reason behind his actions. You thought you already knew, at least at surface level, how Bakugo Katsuki worked, but now you knew you had no idea what was behind Dynamight’s mask. And then, your eyes fell on your secretary.
“Did you know?” you made yourself mumble.
She shook her head.
“I knew it wasn’t my boyfriend who made the bentos, but the first time I tried to explain it to you, you were too busy. Which meant, I also had to be busy, so I didn’t have enough time to order or go to the market. I ate the bento and it turned out to be the best food I have ever had in my entire life. I couldn’t tell you afterwards. I’m sorry. I am a gluttony and I will accept any form of punishment.”
You sighed and let yourself be buried into the hospital pillows, hoping they would open into the underworld and let you isekai directly there. But it didn’t happen. And a few days after, you were already home when another flashing of Breaking News appeared on the screen of your TV.
BREAKING NEWS! Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight admits in an interview that he has never had a girlfriend. You’ll never guess the reason behind it! It’s not because he is too busy, as all of us probably think. No. From his words, it’s because he is bad with words. We wish Dynamight will soon find someone to understand him telepathically.
You knew that after this all the people – pro-heros or not, minors or adults – with a telepathy quirk would send him their profiles and letters about how they could change him. As always, you wanted to ignore the news about your colleague. But something in your mind didn’t let you do it. It was probably the fiery enumeration of all the “kind” actions Bakugo did to win you over. So, you called the owner of the flower-shop you once helped. You asked him to deliver the flowers as fast as possible and gave him twice the price of the bouquet. If it was too late, it would lose the shock effect. And you were right! For the first time since you saw him at the hospital, you were sure you were right about something regarding Bakugo.
“What the fuck, Y/N? What the actual fuck?” You smiled, thankful that he used your real name again. But you had to cough to hide the smile from your voice.
“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to celebrate the two-weeks longevity of your high rank, or the funeral of your most-seeked-bad-boy career. So, I sent you chrysanthemums.”
“Soft-spoken hero my ass,” he mumbled on the phone. You laughed this time loud enough to let him hear it.
“That’s because you unlock the deepest, most hidden parts of my soft persona, Bakugo.”
You called his name intentionally for the first time. You wanted him to know you remembered him. No one said a word after this and you were ready to end the call. There was enough friendliness between you two for now. It was the first friendly interaction you had since middle school.
“Y/N. I want to ask you something,” he started. “At first, I wanted to ask Deku, but he is too busy with his shitty office job. But I need your help with something that will propulse me up in the highest ranks.”
You raised your brow and for a second you could see where the shippers for Bakugo and Midoriya were coming from. Did he really try to drag Midoriya in a dating scandal to get upper in the ranks?
“Can you teach me how to give interviews that won’t jeopardize my whole career?”
Oh. So it wasn’t an invitation to a date. Not that you would have accepted it. You weren’t even sure you wanted to accept being Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’s public-speech professor. It didn’t matter that you could mess around with him from time to time now. His persona still made you question everything around you.
“I really look up to you, Overshoot. I will never be as serene and calm as you, but I can at least use the interviews in my favor instead of thinking I will destroy my career every time an idiot… a journalist crosses my path.”
Not calling the journalists idiots was a good start, you thought and accepted. But only if the lessons were conducted during your patrols, the ones that you did together in any case. Or, at least, that was at first. Because Bakugo’s shenanigans were so funny, you were ready to listen to them even in your free time. So, every now and then, you would go to his house during lunch or dinner, to eat and teach him how to behave. Or just talk about everything that came into your mind. He stopped sending bento boxes and flowers at your office. So, these pseudo-lessons were the only way of eating his food – and your secretary was right about it being the best thing you had ever tried.
During one of these dinners, you got an email from the Hero Society, inviting you to yet another gala. You understood that Bakugo saw the mail on his smart watch, because he stopped stirring the vegetables to look at something on his wrist. For a second, he turned to you, but said nothing. You moved in your seat, changing three positions in the last minute. Finally, you rehearsed the sentence you wished to say out loud enough times in your mind and mumbled: “Do you want to go to the gala with me?”
Damn, you definitely thought of it as a date. But after telling Bakugo going on galas with him wasn’t equal to going as his plus-one, you had to stop yourself from raising your hopes too high. However, you completely forgot that both of you were as experienced in love and, in this case, shared the same two neurons that weren’t even forming a synapse.
After the gala, you heard your secretary answering her phone with only four words: “Yes, they are dating.” You had no idea what she was talking about, maybe some common acquaintances she had with the caller. And then, you saw it.
BREAKING NEWS! Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’s PR department and Pro-Hero OvershO2t’s secretary confirmed that the hand-holding at yesterday's gala between them wasn’t a platonic one. The two explosion heroes – the hot-headed one and the always calm one – are actually dating!
Your phone rang and you answered without even looking at the ID. You knew who it was.
“We are?” two voices morphed into one.
The news continued: “Pro-Hero Red Riot, known to be one of the closest friends of Dynamight confirmed the rumors too by saying <<Yes, they are. But please, blur my face. I don’t want to die tonight.>>”
“Want to go on a date after you finish with your job?” a soft whisper reached your ears.
“What are you going to do? Kick the staff in the heads until they give me letters of recommendation?” Laughter bubbled up out of you, the sound carried by your elation. Here you were, skipping class and holding hands with your best friend.
Your friendship with Hanma has never been the smoothest, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
features: childhood friends to lovers, sexist language, mentioned intoxication and vomiting, and infidelity
A/N: This will probably have a second part at some point, but I have too many WIPs to commit to that right now.
*dividers by @thecutestgrotto
*member of @pixelcafe-network
It started when you were kids. He sat next to you in class. His assigned seat for the third grade. Tall, even at that age. Just one of the many things that set him apart. Even as a child his attendance was irregular and he would show up with cuts and bruises. You once asked him about it, one of the times he bothered to show up. Unlike the other kids, you weren't scared of him. If anything he was a source of curiosity. What kind of kid lived a life so strange?
“Why do you care?” He crumpled up some paper and flicked it from his desk to yours. Unconcerned that it was the middle of class, he spoke at a regular volume.
“I don't know. Just do.” You whispered in response, glancing at the front of the room where a teacher was helping one of your classmates.
It was the first time you had spoken to him. Unless he was in class, he vanished to go wherever he got his wounds from and it was unlikely you would find him again. If you were with friends you couldn't get close to him either. At best when other kids spoke to him he would stare them down without a word until they backed away. The worst would be when he would snarl and lash out like a feral cat. Your friends were less forgiving of his strangeness and intimidating aura than you were. So even though class was ongoing, you decided it was time to seize the chance.
“Being strong is the only way to get ahead.”
“Get ahead of what?”
Your teacher shushed you, putting an end to your conversation. Hanma glared at her but kept his mouth shut. When she turned away you whispered your name to him. No acknowledgement was given. But that the conversation took place at all was victory enough for you.
&&&
From that day onward Hanma would always acknowledge you when he saw you. Most often just with a nod. He never spoke to you first and never sought you out. But sometimes you could get him to stay for lunch with you, if you ditched your friends. It was your bento that was always shared; Hanma never brought any food that you saw. You didn't mind being a little less full if it meant getting time with your new friend.
Friendship with Hanma was a complicated thing. You would consider him your friend, even if the reverse wasn't necessarily true.
“Can I call you Shuji?”
“Only my friends call me that.”
“Then what am I?”
“An annoyance.”
“This annoyance doesn't have to share food, you jerk.” Your watery eyes burn with anger, but you refuse to show any possible weakness in front of Hanma. He tensed up but didn't rise from where he was sitting next to you.
The rest of the shared meal passed without words exchanged. At the end you're ready for him to stomp off as usual, maybe for the last time given how little he thinks of you. But for the first time he thanked you. Little more than a mumble under his breath without a trace of eye contact. In response you beamed at him, anger forgotten.
The next day you hand him an RSVP to your birthday party. The ‘no’ is almost smothered in aggressive circles. At the top where ‘Hanma’ was written he crossed it out and wrote ‘Shuji’ instead. Another victory in the uphill battle that was companionship with Hanma Shuji. For the rest of elementary you called him by his first name.
&&&
Your parents insisted you go to an all-girls school for junior high, so you saw Shuji even less. The years you spent building a fragile bridge between you two washed away by your parents. You forced him to take your phone number and email, and all but begged him not to forget about you. Months passed without a word. It's the kind of thing that would make your friends say “I told you so”. You felt hollowed out, concave, even when the abandonment wasn't on your mind.
The first time he showed up caught you completely off guard. It had taken time but you had begun to accept that he decided you weren't worth the effort. But when you saw Shuji lurking around across the street, even taller than before, you dropped your backpack and ran right up to him. You didn't hesitate to jump up and wrap your arms around his neck. The two of you had never touched before, but there wasn't a doubt in your mind he would catch you.
“What are you doing? Did you turn into a leech since I last saw you?”
“Mhm!” You relished in his warmth, burying your face in his neck and taking in an unknown but comforting scent. “A real bloodsucker.”
He bit your neck, making you scream. Shuji called you an idiot with barely a trickle of his typical venom. Pushing you off of him he cackled as you complained about the bruise that was sure to form. It was the language of his friendship, tender animosity, one you were fluent in.
From across the street you heard your name being called, tone ambivalent. The whole scene was worth the inevitable teasing your friends had in store for you if it meant being reunited with Shuji. You wouldn't let a little gossip deter you from a friendship you cultivated so carefully.
Together you retraced your steps to retrieve your bag and introduce him to your new friends. As you walked up you pulled on his shoulder until his ear was close enough to hear you whisper.
“If you pretend to be nice to them I'll buy you some onigiri at the conbini.”
In response he grinned with all his teeth. “It’s going to cost you your entire allowance.”
It was worth it for the way he briefly acted like a normal human. Shuji even pretended to care when Masuyo flirted with him, placing a too-familiar hand on his forearm. 2000 yen and an armful of snacks later (which he insisted you carry because he ‘behaved so well’) you both made fun of her clumsy attempt, even if it was a little cruel.
“I shouldn't laugh. She's my friend!” But you couldn't help yourself.
“Come on. That was so awkward. ‘Oh Hanma-kun! You should come see me too!’” He simpered in the most uncharitable way possible. You failed to stop yet another giggle; you accepted years ago that your mean-streak was always a little louder in his presence.
“Gross.” You rolled your eyes, which he took great offence to. Shuji started listing the reasons why your friend was right to think he was boyfriend material, but you just tuned him out and enjoyed the feeling of the sinking sun on your face.
It was a simple, yet perfect hangout. You felt light as a bubble, the two of you joking around and snacking on the swings. Even falling off the playground equipment couldn’t sour your mood. It's not as though you felt embarrassed, it was only Shuji there with you. Lanky, emotionally constipated Shuji.
&&&
At thirteen rumours began to spread about Shuji and his inclination to violence. At fourteen the girls who didn’t already know him as your eccentric friend kept their distance from you. By that point in your friendship he was picking you up from school at least once or twice a week, gleefully sneering at the girls who shuddered at his split lip or swollen knuckles. You finished middle school in a strange limbo of known and unknowable, thanks to your bond with Shuji. Once the false rumour of being ‘his girl’ began, there was no hope for you being known by your own character. It grated on you, living as a label, but you wouldn't give up your friendship for anything. Who else could laugh in the darkest moments or find (mis)adventure on the dreariest of days?
When you finally reached high school he had already earned the title of the ‘Reaper of Shinjuku’. Perhaps because his fighting prowess became so well known, Shuji became protective over you in a way that would have been annoying had it been anyone else. While he didn't outright say he had enemies, he did insist to anyone who could hear that he could protect you from any threat.
Even amidst the escalating danger he threw himself into, there was a bright spot too. The two of you were schoolmates once more. Shuji's attendance hadn't improved, but he still walked you home most days. When he was around during the school day, the two of you would find a cozy spot to eat and you would attempt to catch him up while he regaled you with his latest story of mayhem. The likelihood of him crossing the stage with you on graduation day was unlikely, but until he told you to fuck off you would keep compiling notes for him.
It was around the end of your first year that you really began to feel the weight of your relationship. Even in his absence his presence clung to you. It was becoming heavy as stone. Particularly when you tried to catch anyone's eye in a decidedly non-platonic way.
“I don't understand what the big deal is. I'm not asking you to marry me. I was just hoping you would want to go see a movie with me.” While your friends were going on dates, you couldn't get anyone to consider you a romantic prospect. “If you’re worried about Hanma, he's not going to beat you up just for going out with me.”
“I really like talking to you in class. But the Reaper isn't someone you cross. He's made it clear to leave you alone.” Your lab partner held his palms up and took a step back from you.
“He just doesn't want anyone hurting me.” I am so sick of people acting like they need his permission just to be around me. “It's not like he expects me to be single and virginal forever.”
Your crush's eyes widen. Maybe you shouldn't have said that last bit. “I’m sorry. I think maybe you should ask him about that.”
“Yeah maybe you should ask me.” Shuji appears out of nowhere to lean down and use your head as an armrest. With his free arm he pointed his fingers like a gun at your lab partner. He mimed shooting him, laughing as the poor kid began to sweat. “Maybe you should leave.”
“What the fuck Shuji?” You shove him away with none of your usual playfulness. Anyone who was in the vicinity finds anywhere else to be. “Why do you have to make it so hard for me to talk to people? Nobody is going to pop out and stab me in front of my locker!”
“Why are you wasting time with losers like that?” He's got a manic grin on his face, the particularly unkind one he gets when he's in a bad mood.
It's not exactly fair to feel so frustrated with him. Shuji's just trying to protect you in his own dysfunctional way. He doesn't know that he's digging into something that could have been a wound, if you had let it. At some point between age thirteen and fourteen you realized the tall idiot you knew wasn't bad to look at. Then he went on a handful of dates with one of your friends before deciding she was ‘boring’, and you remembered why it was a bad idea to consider him to be anything more than your best friend.
“Hey I like him! He plays guitar and he’s got nice arms!” It sounded so stupid once you tried to justify it outloud.
“I have nice arms!” To emphasize his point he grabbed one of your hands and held it to his bicep.
“You have a girlfriend. One who probably hasn't had to change your pants for you after you got too drunk and threw up all over yourself.” You yanked your hand away. When you've seen someone crying while covered in their own vomit, it's easier to suppress the stirrings of desire.
“That was one time!”
“Yes, only because I said we're never going to Shin-Okubo to buy soju again!” You're torn between laughing at the memory and tearing your hair out. As if compelled to, you open your mouth and kept going. “Not to mention she didn’t have to listen to your voice crack when you hit puberty! Or drag you to the doctor's because you thought you were too tough to get a broken arm!”
“And that's why I don't love her!” Shuji bends down to scream it in your face before kicking over a garbage can.
“What's that supposed to mean?” A fist clenched around your trembling heart.
“It means you're not supposed to say ‘ew’ when I take off my shirt!” Shuji brows pinched upward in the middle, as though you were the one hitting his chest rather than him inflicting the pain himself. Nonetheless each thump made guilt reverberate through you.
You force yourself to give him a half-smile. The insincerity weighs down your face, but it's better than acknowledging you might be having your first real fight. “I’m trying not to make it weird! Why do you always feel compelled to take it off lately? Are you allergic to clothes now?”
“You stupid bitch I am trying to fuck you!”
Someone clears their throat. “I am begging you to take this anywhere other than the school grounds.”
Neither of you noticed the principal right next to you until he spoke up. He was wary as he eyed Shuji but held his ground.
As soon as the shock stopped paralyzing your body, you bowed to hide your burning cheeks. “I'm so sorry–”
“Ugh shut up. Don't waste your breath.” Shuji grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the building.
“You said more than I did.” Stumbling you wouldn't have been able to keep up with his long strides if he hadn't yanked you along with him.
“Yeah but I know you were going to keep apologizing and just go on and on.” He didn't so much as look over his shoulder.
“He's our principal! Of course I'm going to apologize!” You wriggled your wrist around until you managed to interlock your fingers with Shuji's. Even though the two of you had never held hands before he didn't change his pace in the slightest.
“You spend too much time worrying about people who don't matter.”
“I want to stay on the school's good side. The university I'm looking at is pretty competitive.”
“Don’t worry about that. I'll take care of it.” You're both past the school grounds, but neither of you relinquished your grip.
“What are you going to do? Kick the staff in the heads until they give me letters of recommendation?” Laughter bubbled up out of you, the sound carried by your elation. Here you were, skipping class and holding hands with your best friend.
“Sure. Why not?” He barked out a laugh too. “I'll take care of you. Whether you get into the best school and make tons of money, or you decide you don't want to do anything at all.”
“Hanma Shuji.” You stopped in place and pulled on his hand when he tried to keep going. He allowed himself to be dragged backward. You could never force him into anything. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
You waved your free hand around as you spoke. “Because you chase after every attractive person you see? Because you giggle when you beat the shit out of people? Because you're the least serious person to ever exist?”
“Ha. Yeah.” He stared off into space for a moment with a soft smile, as though he was contemplating something. “But you're the exception. You and Kisaki. I can be serious about the right things.”
“Who? Did you already dump Sayuri?” You always paid attention to his stories, so this was the first time he was mentioning someone he valued as much as you.
“Nah, I've been putting it off. I'll tell you about him later.”
“So, now what?” In the past it was always you who chased after Shuji, sometimes for little more than crumbs. Now he would have to be the one to put your friendship at risk if he really wanted something more.
“Now I'm going to take you somewhere and show that virgin cunt what she's been missing out.”
You laughed at how bold he was. “You're skipping a lot of steps.”
“I'm too horny to go get dinner or see a movie.” He shrugged, eyeing up your figure.
You rolled your eyes. “You're the emperor of romance, huh? How about we start somewhere simple.”
You stood on the balls of your feet and pulled his face down to meet yours. It was your first kiss, so you meant for it to be quick Shuji, refusing to leave it at that, moaned against you while wrapping an arm around your back. He lifted you off the ground and pressed your chest into his own.
The murmuring of people passing on the street was enough to remind you that you shouldn't be behaving like this where anyone could see. The muscles of your stomach clenched, in anxiety and anticipation. If the harm was already done, you might as well indulge a little longer.
(Though you'll never know it, in every timeline his lips will always belong to you.)
pairing. stepbrother!jungwon x reader (ft. mystery enha member x reader)
word count. 54k
warning. contains themes of heavy slow-burn plot, dubious consent (dubcon), non-consensual voyeurism, emotional manipulation, degradation, humiliation, gaslighting, manipulation, step-sibling incest, intense power dynamics, possessiveness, obsession, rough sex, cheating, spying, mentions of bodily fluids, alcohol use, mild coercion, dark themes, and explicit sexual content (18+). mdni.
living with jungwon has always been easy—sure, he's lazy, sure, he doesn’t have a job, but you loved your stepbrother anyway. but when someone else steps into your life, threatening the peace he's fought to keep, you start to wonder just how far jungwon will go to protect the life he's built around you... and what he's willing to do to keep it that way.
co-written with @jaeyunsmochi she helped me with this, and i cannot thank her enough for all her input.
families were supposed to come together out of love, not convenience. that’s what you used to believe, anyway.
after your dad passed and your mom remarried, everything changed. it wasn’t just grief anymore; suddenly, you had this new family dropped into your life, and you were expected to accept it. just like that. jungwon came into your life when you were both barely teenagers, awkward and trying to figure out how to exist in a world that felt like it was constantly shifting under your feet.
back then, he was more like a shadow than anything else. always there, but never in your way. he’d hover near your bedroom door, quiet, not saying much, but his presence was always... there. comforting, in a strange way. he was clingy, yeah, but you didn’t mind it. he’d tag along after school, sitting beside you on the couch, waiting for you to pick the show. you’d flick his forehead when he said something dumb, and he’d laugh, wide-eyed and innocent, like everything was easy. and back then? it was.
you didn’t think much of it. jungwon was just your stepbrother. harmless. you even joked about it with your friends sometimes, saying he was too attached. but it was no big deal—just the way things were.
that was then. now, it’s different.
you’re not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, jungwon stopped being the awkward kid who hung around doorways. he grew up. and so did you.
you didn’t notice it right away, probably because you were too wrapped up in your own life—dating, college, figuring yourself out. but recently... you’ve felt the changes.
the air feels heavier between you now. jungwon’s not that scrawny boy anymore. he’s taller, broader, his shoulders filling out his clothes in a way that’s impossible to ignore. there’s a quiet confidence in him now that wasn’t there before. when he passes by in the hallway, there’s this tension. something new. your mom even points out how the neighborhood girls are always trying to get his attention, but he never seems interested.
and that’s the thing—he doesn’t seem interested in anyone. not in the way you’d expect. at first, you thought maybe he was just focused on school. maybe even... gay.
for a while, you were convinced of it. but then, you remembered the stuff you’d accidentally seen—his porn history popping up on the family computer a few times said otherwise.
okay, so... he definitely wasn't gay.
threesomes, bdsm, no other dicks included, some other kinky stuff, hell even stepsister porn. you teased him about it when you caught him, his face turning red as he slammed the laptop shut. back then, you laughed it off. just teenage boy stuff, right?
but now, it's like you’re seeing him through a different lens.
it’s not just jungwon, though. jake and sunghoon, his best friends, grew up too. they came into the picture a few years after jungwon, and back then, they were dorky, awkward, always cracking dumb jokes and geeking out over games. they were like brothers to you, in a way. except jungwon, but that was always a different story.
now, they’re not those awkward kids anymore. jake’s taller, leaner, and those messy curls that once made him look boyish now make girls turn their heads. sunghoon traded in his glasses for contacts, hit the gym, and suddenly he’s got this bad-boy charm that leaves girls staring.
watching them change from the boys you knew into confident men—men who now tower over you—it’s weird. it’s like you missed the transition, and now you’re left catching up. you’d always been the big sister figure, offering advice, guiding them through awkward phases.
but now, they look at you differently too. you feel it. jake’s compliments linger a little longer, sunghoon’s teasing has this edge to it, flirty, suggestive. they don’t cross any lines, but the dynamic has clearly shifted. you’re not sure how to handle it.
but, as always, you had to grow up faster than they did.
when you graduated, your mom and stepdad left the flat to you and jungwon. just the two of you again, trying to figure out adulthood. you’d drifted apart during those college years—he found his group, you focused on boys, academics, trying to figure out who you were. but now, somehow, you’ve drifted back together.
maybe it’s because you’re both older now, more mature. living with jungwon feels... natural. comforting, even. but at the same time, it’s not easy anymore. not when you see him like this—strong, confident.
not when you feel this attraction building up inside you.
and it’s not just his appearance. it’s the way he’s always around. not in a clingy way like before, but always choosing to be near you. it makes you wonder if it’s just out of convenience or if maybe... maybe he feels it too. that pull. that connection.
you love him, of course you do. he’s your stepbrother. but these feelings... they’re twisted, wrong. and you keep telling yourself they’ll pass. that it’s just some messed-up phase. but the more time you spend alone with him in the apartment, the more the tension builds, pulling you toward something you know you shouldn’t want.
but you can’t shake it.
your love life isn’t helping either. after years of failed relationships—guys who got bored or cheated—you’ve started to wonder if maybe the problem is you. are you not enough? you’ve vented to jake and sunghoon about it, and they always tell you the same thing—you’re beautiful, smart, any guy would be lucky to have you. but their words don’t ease the loneliness.
and then, there’s jungwon.
you can’t help but compare every guy to him. none of them measure up to his quiet strength, his presence. it’s driving you insane, and you know using him as a standard is wrong. but you can’t stop. he’s still attached to you. not like before, but he’s always there. and sometimes, you wonder if it’s out of convenience, because he just doesn't want to be bothered paying rent, or if he feels it too—that pull.
whatever it is, it’s messing with your head.
you’ve tried to distract yourself, but with your job draining you and no real outlet, it’s impossible. the flat feels more like his than yours—sleek, minimal, no warmth. it’s functional. just like him. but hey, it worked.
your mornings are always the same. you stumble out of bed, hair a mess, half-asleep, and drag yourself to the kitchen for caffeine. and there he is, already on the couch, headset on, yelling into his mic like it’s the end of the world. his voice is the first thing you hear, every single day—not the birds outside, not the traffic.
just him.
“jake, for fuck’s sake, move!” jungwon’s voice cut through the quiet of the flat, his fingers mashing at the controller. you stood at the kitchen counter, pouring cereal into a bowl, your eyes drifting to where he sat on the couch.
he leaned forward, whole body tense, muscles shifting under his skin every time his hands tightened on the controller. veins popped out on his forearms, and his focus was locked in, jaw clenched.
his hair was a damp mess from his shower, still tousled and drying. jungwon’s bare back, smooth and broad, contrasted against the dark, worn leather of the couch he spent most of his time on.
as usual, he was shirtless, lounging in a pair of low-hanging grey boxers. it was a constant reminder of how much had changed. he wasn’t the lanky stepbrother who used to hover by your door anymore—jungwon was all grown up, and you noticed every inch of it.
“can you keep it down?” you called, half-exasperated, setting your bowl on the counter as you reached for the milk.
he didn’t look at you, muttering under his breath, clearly more invested in his game than acknowledging your presence. you could hear jake’s voice muffled through the headset, followed by sunghoon’s laughter.
“jesus,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. grabbing your bowl, you wandered over to the couch and sat next to him, closer than you needed to be, leaning in just enough to be in his space. his shoulder brushed against yours, but he didn’t even flinch, eyes still glued to the screen.
you nudged him with your elbow, a grin tugging at your lips. “wanna share the screen? looks like you’re losing.”
he swatted at you lazily, not breaking his focus. “can you not?” he grumbled, frustration obvious in his voice as gunfire crackled through his headset.
jake’s voice came through, amused. “dude, is that y/n again?”
“yep,” sunghoon added with a laugh. “tell her to fuck off before we lose.”
“i’m not doing anything,” you smirked, crunching obnoxiously on a spoonful of cereal. “just enjoying my breakfast.”
jungwon shot you a quick glare, his brow furrowed, and you couldn’t help but find it a little endearing. he acted annoyed, but this was your thing. pestering him was fun, and deep down, you knew he liked it. even if he’d never admit it.
you shifted beside him, your shorts riding up slightly, which caught his attention for a split second. his eyes flicked down to your legs, a quick glance, but you didn’t notice. he clenched the controller tighter, jaw set as he forced himself to focus on the game.
“you’re so annoying,” he muttered, but there wasn’t any real bite to it, making you grin wider.
leaning into him more, you let your head rest on his shoulder. “can’t help it. you’re just so easy to mess with.”
“stop it,” sunghoon’s voice came through the headset again, exasperated. “seriously, let him play. he’s already fucking up.”
“i’m not fucking up!” jungwon shot back, defensive, his voice faltering slightly. you snickered under your breath, watching him try to focus despite how close you were.
without thinking, you grabbed the controller from his hands, holding it out of his reach. “wanna see if i can do better?”
“y/n, come on,” he growled, lunging toward you to snatch it back, but you dodged, grinning like a fool.
“admit it, i’m way more fun than this stupid game,” you teased, waving the controller in the air.
jungwon leaned in again, his hand brushing against your thigh as he reached for the controller, his fingers circling your wrist in a firm grip. the touch made you freeze for a second. his hand lingered just a bit too long before he pulled away, his face suddenly serious.
“just give it back,” he muttered, his voice low, controlled.
your heartbeat kicked up, but you handed it back. “jeez, relax.”
as he took the controller, his fingers brushed yours, sending a shiver up your arm. for a moment, the air felt heavy, charged with something you didn’t want to think too much about.
“you’re stronger than you look,” you said quietly, more to break the silence than anything.
he didn’t look at you, just smirked slightly, still focused on the game. “you’re just weaker than you think.”
“fuck off,” you laughed, though your mind lingered on how easily he could’ve overpowered you if he wanted to.
snap out of it, y/n.
sunghoon’s voice cut through the headset again. “about time she let go of the controller. man, you’re way too soft on her.”
jake chimed in, laughing. “if i had a sister, she wouldn’t even get near my stuff.”
you rolled your eyes, chuckling as you grabbed your phone off the coffee table. a text from your boss flashed on the screen. jay from seattle will be at the office by noon. show him around.
“ugh, i forgot i have to babysit some new guy at work today,” you groaned, slumping back down next to jungwon.
“already tired of annoying me?” jungwon asked, glancing at you as his character respawned.
“i was supposed to have the day off,” you sighed dramatically. “now i have to play tour guide for some guy named jay. transferred from seattle. sounds like a blast.”
the volume of the game was loud enough that you could hear jake and sunghoon laughing. “maybe jay’s hot,” jake teased. “seattle guys have that brooding, rugged thing going on, right?”
you snorted. “yeah, right. knowing my luck, he’s probably some middle-aged dude with bad breath who smells like stale coffee and has a comb-over.”
“or,” jake continued, “he could be exactly what you need. you’ve been working non-stop. loosen up a bit.”
jungwon glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “you wouldn’t know what to do with him even if he was hot.”
your eyebrow shot up at the slight challenge in his voice. “oh, really?”
he didn’t look away this time, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “you’re too uptight. all you do is work.”
“i’m not uptight,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “i just have my shit together. someone has to feed your lazy ass.”
jake and sunghoon’s laughter rang through the headset, but jungwon didn’t smile. instead, he shrugged, his tone softer. “nothing’s gonna happen with this jay guy.”
you blinked, caught off guard by his sudden seriousness. “and how would you know?” he didn’t answer, focusing back on the screen, his fingers pressing the buttons a little too aggressively.
as you stood up to head back to your room, jungwon’s phone lit up on the coffee table, vibrating softly. you leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the name on the screen, but jungwon noticed, flipping it over quickly.
“what’s that about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him.
“none of your business,” he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on the TV, his voice tight.
your jaw dropped as you turned to jungwon. “wait, you’re seeing someone?”
jungwon sighed, clearly irritated. “they’re exaggerating. it’s nothing."
“nothing?” sunghoon’s voice broke through the headset, laughter lacing his tone. “pretty sure she’s been over a few times, man.”
you stared at jungwon, genuinely taken aback. he’s been seeing someone and didn’t tell me? you thought you were close. close enough that if there was someone new in his life—someone he was bringing over to the flat—you’d be the first to know.
but no, he kept it to himself. a pang of something settled in your chest, annoyance creeping up at how easily he brushed it off like it was no big deal. what else has he been hiding? sure, you and him had your boundaries, but he told you everything. or so you thought.
“you’ve been seeing someone and didn’t tell me?” you asked, your voice betraying the slight sting of being left in the dark.
jungwon’s face flushed just the tiniest bit, and you noticed how his eyes narrowed, defensive. “it’s not like that. it’s… not serious.”
not serious? you couldn’t stop the thoughts from spiraling a little. so she’s been here more than once? this wasn’t just a random hookup. there was someone coming over, sleeping in the same flat, and you had no idea.
“wow,” you muttered, trying to process the information. “and here i thought you barely left the house.”
jungwon rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “she comes over sometimes. it’s no big deal.”
no big deal, huh? something in you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. it was stupid, but maybe part of you expected to be more in the loop with him, to know when things changed like this.
and damn, if he was seeing someone, that girl was hella lucky. your eyes flicked to jungwon’s frame, you could just picture it—jungwon fucking someone into the mattress.
he could probably break a girl apart, the way his body moved, the way he stayed composed even when his temper flared. fuck, why were you even thinking about this?
the thought made your stomach turn with a weird mixture of disgust and guilt, your mind snapping back to reality.
what the hell, y/n? that’s your stepbrother you’re thinking about, for fuck’s sake.
you leaned back, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to shake the lingering thoughts. “well, i’m happy for you. about time you found someone. maybe now you’ll stop being so moody all the time.”
“piss off, y/n,” he muttered, but the way he said it lacked the usual bite.
you grinned, moving a little closer, determined to push his buttons just a bit more. “i’d love to meet her, though. see what kind of girl puts up with you.”
jungwon’s entire expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he shot you a sharp glance. “not happening.”
your smile faded slightly. “why not?”
“because it’s nothing,” he snapped, a little more forceful this time. his eyes flicked away from yours, the tension in his voice unmistakable.
you raised your hands in surrender, laughing lightly to break the tension. “alright, alright. i’ll drop it. for now.”
as you stood up to head back to your room, that strange unease in your chest lingered, creeping up your spine like something wasn’t quite right. just as you reached the hallway, your phone buzzed again.
a message from your boss—jay is on his way.
you groaned softly, already feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. "looks like jay’s gonna be here sooner than i thought," you muttered mostly to yourself, dreading the responsibility that came with showing him around.
you weren’t in the mood for it, not today.
jungwon paused the game, glancing at you over his shoulder, hearing jake and sunghoon still shouting through the headset. he ignored them, focusing on you instead, eyes narrowing just a bit, “you don’t have to do it, you know.”
you turned to him, confused by his sudden comment. "what? of course, i do. it’s my job."
he shrugged, leaning back against the couch, "you’re always working. you don’t have to take on everything. they can find someone else to do it."
you raised an eyebrow, catching the subtle edge in his voice, something almost too quick, too dismissive. since when did he care about my workload?
"since when do you care about how much I work?" you asked, half-joking but genuinely curious.
"i don’t," he muttered, his words coming out a little too fast, his attention flicking back to the game, fingers tightening on the controller. "just... you never take a break. let someone else handle the boring shit for once.”
what the hell was that about?
you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "yeah, well, someone’s gotta pay for this flat and feed you."
“i can take care of myself,” he grumbled, but there was something off about the way he said it. like he was trying to convince himself more than you, the usual sharpness in his voice missing.
"really?" you teased, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "you? mr. video game addict who barely leaves the house unless it’s with jake and sunghoon?"
he scoffed, but it sounded forced. "i go out," he snapped, though the defensiveness in his tone only made you laugh more. it was like he couldn’t handle the thought of you not taking him seriously.
"oh, right. to jog. very social of you," you shot back, smirking, trying to lighten the weird tension that had settled between you.
“i said, i can take care of myself,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time, almost like he didn’t fully believe it. his eyes flickered up to meet yours for a split second before he quickly looked away, pretending to focus back on the game.
you smirked, pushing off the doorframe, but the unease in your chest only grew. “sure, you can.”
what was his problem? there was something about the way he brushed off the conversation, acting so casual but clearly irritated by something. the mention of jay? was that what was getting under his skin? but why would that even bother him?
you shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. jungwon was just being… well, jungwon. moody, defensive, sometimes hard to read.
the weight of it followed you, pressing against your thoughts as you tried to focus on the day ahead, already dreading dealing with jay and the endless office bullshit.
just what you needed—more distractions when your mind was already a fucking mess.
you pulled into the office parking lot, fingers tapping idly on the steering wheel as some random song played in the background. you weren’t even listening—your mind was too busy spiraling with thoughts about the day ahead.
how the hell are you going to explain to jay just how toxic this place is?
the office politics alone could suck the life out of anyone, and your boss? well, he was a nightmare. you didn’t exactly envy jay, but then again, you didn’t even know what kind of person he was yet.
as you scanned the parking lot, your eyes landed on a man standing awkwardly near the entrance, briefcase in hand, looking painfully out of place. he looked like someone who got lost on his way to a corporate halloween party.
really, universe? did it have to be the middle-aged guy with the briefcase?
you sighed and pulled up closer, rolling down your window. “jay?” you called out.
he looked at you, utterly confused, his face blank like he had no idea what you were talking about. this can’t be him, right?
“uh, mr. park sent me to show you around?” you added, trying to make sense of the situation. “i’m y/n—”
before you could finish, a head popped into view at your window, making you jump in your seat, heart racing as your eyes snapped to the figure now crouched by your car.
“looking for me?”
and there he was—the real jay. fuck. tall, devastatingly handsome, wearing a suit so perfect you were pretty sure it cost more than your rent. his hair was slicked back, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and that smile—god, that smile—lit up his face like he knew exactly how good he looked.
it took everything in you not to openly gawk at him. this guy wasn’t just hot—he was jaw-droppingly, heart-racing, take-your-breath-away kind of attractive. and just to top it off, he smelled incredible, like cedarwood, spice, and something else you couldn’t place but was definitely dangerous.
your heart raced, and it felt like you were back in high school, locking eyes with your crush for the first time. and the way he looked at you, all confidence and charm, didn’t fucking help.
you swallow thickly as your brain short-circuited for a second. doing your best to mask the shock—and the blatant gawking—as you extended your hand to shake his. but then you realized, oh, right, he was crouched down, his face level with your car window, meaning there was no way he could actually reach you from there.
he raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “we doing handshakes from inside the car now?”
you felt your cheeks heat up slightly, embarrassed by how thrown off you were. “uh, no, i—” you pulled your hand back awkwardly, trying to regain your composure. “i just wasn’t expecting… well, you.”
he grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. “and what exactly were you expecting?”
you gestured toward the poor guy standing a few feet behind him, still clutching his briefcase. “not… not you.”
jay glanced over his shoulder at the guy, chuckling. “oh, him?” he laughed, the sound deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “nah, that’s the temp. he’s just helping out while i get settled.”
right. of course. because why would the universe make this easy for you?
he straightened up, giving you a full view of just how tall he really was. damn, the guy was built like a dream. he adjusted his suit jacket, flashing you another one of those infuriatingly perfect smiles. “so, you’re my guide for the day?”
you nodded, finally getting a grip on yourself. “yeah, i’ll be showing you around, introducing you to the team, that sort of thing.”
“sounds fun,” he replied, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary. he stepped back from the car, giving you room to get out.
you took a breath, trying to shake off the sudden nerves. he’s just a colleague, y/n. stop acting like you’re on a damn date.
you got out of the car, smoothing your clothes down, doing your best to stay professional. but when you looked up again, jay was still watching you, his gaze following your movements a little too closely.
there was something about him that made it impossible to stay indifferent. confident, sure, but also playful in a way that got under your skin. like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“lead the way, then,” he said with a nod toward the building. you nodded back, fighting off the flutter in your chest as you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance.
get it together, y/n. there were more important things to focus on—like how to warn jay about the office and your boss’s ridiculous expectations. the last thing you needed was a crush. especially on someone like him.
as you made your way through the doors, you mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. you needed to focus on work, not on how good jay looked in that suit or how his presence seemed to linger around you like gravity.
jay fell into step beside you, casual and relaxed. “so, y/n,” he started, his voice smooth, “how bad is it working here?”
you gave him a half-smile. “oh, you have no idea.”
leading him through the maze of cubicles and conference rooms, it was impossible not to notice the way people stared at jay as you passed. it wasn’t just you—everyone noticed him. how could they not?
jay didn’t just walk into a room, he commanded it. and the way he made small talk with your coworkers, that smile lighting up his face—it was like he had everyone hooked.
you gave him the usual tour: break room, copy room, the stash of good coffee you stole from your boss’s private stock, and the dreaded hr department, notorious for all the wrong reasons.
jay nodded along, paying attention, but you could feel his eyes on you more often than not. by the time you made it to the lounge area, you were ready for a break, not because the tour was tiring, but because being around jay was exhausting in a whole other way.
“this is where we hide when the boss is breathing down our necks,” you said, gesturing to the snack station. “snacks, coffee, all the essentials. we can take a break before i show you the rest.”
jay chuckled, leaning against the counter with that annoyingly perfect posture. “i've gotta say, this place isn't so bad. you made it sound like a war zone.”
you shrugged, reaching for a granola bar. “it’s not the place—it’s the people. management, especially. if you last a week, i’ll be impressed.”
he raised an eyebrow, smirking. “that bad, huh?”
you tore open the wrapper, taking a bite. “you don’t know the half of it. the boss is a control freak, expects us to be mind readers.”
jay laughed, grabbing a snack for himself, eyes still on you. “good thing i’m good at reading people then.”
you felt your cheeks heat up slightly at the way his gaze lingered. yep, definitely flirting.
“yeah? how’s that working out for you so far?” you shot back, trying to keep things light but he grinned, leaning a little closer. “i’d say i’m getting the hang of it.”
what the hell, jay? maybe it was just you overthinking, but the way he keeps on leaning a closer? god, he needed to stop acting like he fucking wants you or you'd completely lose it.
“so,” jay continued, unwrapping his snack, “what keeps someone like you in a place like this?”
you laughed softly, leaning against the counter. “honestly? it pays the bills, and i haven’t found anything better yet. you learn how to survive.”
jay watched you for a moment, his gaze almost too intense. “maybe you just haven’t found the right opportunity to leave yet.” there was something in the way he said it, something that made you feel like he was offering more than just advice.
“maybe,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart was hammering.
jay smiled, taking a slow sip of his drink. “you’re not as uptight as you made yourself sound earlier. you’re pretty laid-back.”
you laughed, though your stomach flipped at the unexpected compliment. laid-back? not the words jungwon would use to describe you this morning.
“i’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, trying to sound casual.
jay hummed, his eyes dipping down for a moment before flicking back up to meet yours. there was something almost deliberate in the way he took another slow sip of his drink, like he was savoring it. "it was meant as one. not everyone can pull that off."
jake’s voice from earlier played on a loop in your head: maybe he’s exactly what you need. goddammit, jake wasn’t wrong. the way jay moved, the way his words slipped out so easily, it was like he knew exactly how to push your buttons without even trying.
but shit, this was work. you couldn’t lose your head over some pretty boy with a killer smile, no matter how damn good he smelled or how dangerously close he was standing.
you took a deep breath, trying to calm the pulse racing in your throat. still, your mouth betrayed you.
“you’re dangerous, you know that?” the words came out more playful than you intended, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself.
jay’s smile widened at that, his eyes lighting up with mischief, the air around him practically buzzing. "i’ve been told."
oh, fuck.
and just like that, you were completely hooked.
as you closed the office door behind you, glancing at your wristwatch, you realized just how late it had gotten. your heels were killing you, and all you could think about was kicking them off the second you got home.
jay walked beside you, his long strides effortlessly keeping pace as you both headed to the parking lot, still chatting about schedules and the mountain of upcoming projects.
"so," you said, rubbing your temples, "looks like we’ll be working pretty closely on that new marketing push. i’ll show you the ropes, make sure you don’t drown in all the corporate bullshit."
"sounds like i’m in good hands, then." his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, making it impossible not to return the gesture.
as you continued walking, the conversation shifted, and jay started opening up more—talking about where he came from. and fuck, was that a surprise.
the guy was loaded. not just rich—serious money. the kind that makes you wonder why someone like him would even bother working in a place like this.
"so," you said, still trying to process it, "you could probably be running a company by now, right? why take a job here?"
jay shrugged, all humble and casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. "i wanted to start from the bottom, you know? understand the employees, the management... see how everything works before i think about building something of my own."
you blinked at him, genuinely impressed. who the hell chooses to start from the bottom when they’re sitting on a pile of money? "that’s… honestly, that’s really smart. most people wouldn’t do that."
"thanks," he said, smiling warmly. "i like to think i’m in the right place for now."
there it was again—that easy charm. it wasn’t just the flirting; it was how natural everything felt with him. the way the conversation flowed effortlessly, like you’d known him forever. and it wasn’t just nice—it was fucking refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t make everything feel like a power play.
you glanced at your phone, then cursed under your breath. shit, jungwon. you’d been so wrapped up in the day that you forgot about dinner. and knowing him, he probably hadn’t eaten anything decent since breakfast.
"ugh," you groaned, rubbing your forehead. "i totally forgot, i’ve got a brother to feed."
jay raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "younger brother?"
you rolled your eyes, half-laughing. "i wish. that would be way easier. no, he’s grown—just incredibly lazy."
jay chuckled, shaking his head. "sounds like a handful."
"you have no idea," you replied, smirking. "but someone’s gotta take care of him."
you both shared a laugh, the walk settling into an easy rhythm again as you made it to your cars. jay leaned against his door, his eyes lingering on you in a way that was... not subtle. there was something magnetic about him, and as much as you tried to keep your cool, it was becoming harder by the second.
"well," jay said, pulling his phone from his pocket, "this was easily one of the best tours i’ve ever been on. we should do it again sometime." he flashed that devastating smile, his eyes flicking back up to yours as he scrolled casually on his screen.
"can i get your number? you know, in case i get lost tomorrow and need rescuing."
god, he’s good. you couldn’t help but laugh, pulling out your phone to exchange numbers with him. "sure. just don’t make a habit of getting lost, though."
he chuckled, tucking his phone away, his gaze still locked on you. "i’ll try my best. thanks for showing me around, y/n."
"anytime," you said, feeling lighter as you waved goodbye and headed toward your car. halfway home, you caught yourself still smiling like a fucking idiot.
by the time you finally walked through the door of your apartment, juggling bags of jungwon's favorite takeout, you were greeted by the usual sight of jungwon sprawled out on the couch, xbox controller in hand.
he glanced up, his eyes immediately landing on the food you were carrying, eyebrows raised.
"what’s the occasion?" he asked, eyeing the bags suspiciously. "you only ever get me this when something really good happens."
you grinned, setting the food on the table, still riding the high from earlier. "oh, you know... just had a great day at work."
jungwon’s eyes narrowed a little, his suspicion deepening. "a great day, huh?"
"yup," you said, kicking off your heels and digging into the food. "jay."
jungwon leaned back on the couch, trying to look indifferent. "and?"
you let out a dreamy sigh, not even noticing how his eyes sharpened slightly. "he’s amazing. like, seriously. smart, loaded, and so humble. it’s crazy. oh, and did i mention he’s hot? like, really fucking hot."
jungwon kept his face neutral, but there was a flicker of something—something dark that you didn’t catch. "sounds... great."
you continued gushing, going on about how well you and jay clicked, the subtle flirting, the easy chemistry. "and the best part? we’re gonna be working on a bunch of projects together. i think we’re gonna make a really good team."
jungwon stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the food in front of him. "yeah, well," he finally muttered, his tone clipped, "just don’t get distracted."
you paused, mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. "distracted?"
jungwon shrugged, his eyes flicking up for the briefest moment before going back to his food. "just saying. you’ve got a lot on your plate already."
"i can handle it," you replied, brushing off his comment, "besides, it’s not like anything’s going to happen."
but even you didn’t believe that. something’s definitely going to happen. you could feel it.
jungwon didn’t respond, just grunted and focused back on the tv, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation. you shrugged it off, too caught up in the day to care.
as you sat on the couch next to him, scrolling through your phone, a familiar ping made you glance down at your screen. a message from jay.
instinctively, a smile tugged at your lips, and without thinking, you bit your lip as you read it.
jay: hope you’re not too tired from babysitting me all day. thanks again for the tour. promise i won’t get lost tomorrow... but i might just text you anyway ;)
goddamn, he was smooth. your smile widened, and before you knew it, you were already typing back.
y/n: i’ll be holding you to that ;) don’t leave me hanging.
you hit send, feeling a flutter in your chest as you tossed your phone onto the couch. you were smiling like a fucking teenager, and you knew it. but you didn’t care.
jungwon, sitting beside you, glanced over. his eyes darted to your phone, then back to your face. "who’s that?" he asked.
you shrugged, trying to play it off. "just jay. he’s funny."
jungwon hummed, eyes glued to the tv again, though you could see the way his jaw clenched. "funny, huh?"
"yeah, we were just texting about today. nothing big."
jungwon stayed silent after that, but you could feel the shift in the air. something was off. maybe it was the way he bristled every time you mentioned jay, or maybe it was how quiet he’d gotten all of a sudden.
you brushed it off, your mind too busy replaying your day with jay. but if you had looked up, if you had paid attention, you would’ve seen the way jungwon was staring at you now—intense, almost predatory.
his eyes weren’t on the tv anymore. they were fixed on you. and the way you smiled down at your phone, completely unaware, only seemed to fuel something deeper inside him.
he didn't even blink.
his expression was unreadable, but his gaze... it was burning. if only you had noticed. but you didn’t. you were too busy with jay, too caught up in the thrill of it all to feel the weight of jungwon’s stare.
a week had passed since then, and jungwon sat on the couch, leg bouncing restlessly, his eyes on the tv but not actually seeing anything.
sunghoon and jake’s laughter filled the room, their voices like nails on a chalkboard as they kept making casual comments about you and jay. every joke, every stupid jab about how much jay liked you felt like a fucking knife twisting deeper in his chest. fuck, this is hell. he couldn’t take it.
"bet jay’s got it bad for her," sunghoon’s voice cut through the air, making jungwon’s stomach twist, his blood boiling under his skin. his heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. all he could focus on was the heat rising in his chest, the way his skin felt too tight.
he swallowed hard, trying to keep the rage from spilling out. “i’m going to the bathroom,” he muttered, standing up so fast the remote slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a thud.
jake and sunghoon glanced up, surprised, but jungwon didn’t wait for a response. he stormed down the hallway, steps uneven, barely holding it together.
when he reached the bathroom, he slammed the door hard enough to echo through the apartment. let them think he needed to cool off or whatever. but the bathroom wasn’t where he was headed.
you were still at work. probably with jay. fucking jay. probably talking, laughing, maybe even flirting with him. jungwon’s chest tightened at the thought, his jealousy clawing at him. he couldn’t handle it. he needed a release, needed something to calm the fire burning inside him.
so he went to your room.
his hand shook as he reached for the knob, pausing for a second to listen. jake and sunghoon were still laughing, still talking like nothing was wrong. he slipped into your room, closing the door quietly behind him.
the second he stepped inside, your scent hit him—sweet, familiar, fucking intoxicating. it wrapped around him, choking him in the best and worst way possible. his chest ached, and for a second, he thought he might actually break.
he leaned back against the door, sliding down to the floor, his head falling into his hands. he felt like he was losing his fucking mind. you. it was always you.
his heart pounded painfully, each beat a reminder of how fucked up he felt. he could barely breathe, barely think, and yet, the need to be in here—in your space—overpowered everything else. the room was exactly how you left it—clothes scattered across the bed, your hoodie tossed over the chair. but jungwon’s eyes went straight to the shelf facing your bed.
that fucking teddy bear.
it wasn’t small either—one of those carnival bears he’d won for you back then. it wasn’t huge, not one of those obnoxiously oversized ones, but big enough. bigger than a normal stuffed animal, definitely enough for you to… do what you did with it.
it sat there, innocent to anyone else, untouched, like it hadn’t been moved in months. for anyone else, it was a forgotten toy, frozen in time. but to him? it was everything.
it was the key to his obsession.
he reached for it, his fingers brushing over the soft fur, his stomach twisting with a mix of guilt and desire. he sat on the edge of your bed, gripping the bear like it was the only thing keeping him sane.
how the fuck did it get this bad? he hadn’t meant for things to spiral out of control, but now? now he was too far gone. for a moment, he just sat there, staring at the bear, knowing what he had hidden inside it. knowing the guilt that came with it.
it wasn’t just a toy anymore. it was a reminder—of what he was, of everything he had become.
his fingers tightened around 'teddy' as memories hit him, one after the other, like a train barreling through his mind. pulling him deeper into the past.
he could never forget that summer, the one after his first year of college. he had come back home, exhausted but fucking relieved to finally get a break from the chaos of school. the months away had been a blur, and honestly? he didn’t think much about you during all that time.
you were just his stepsister—at least, that’s the bullshit he kept telling himself.
he buried the memories of your pretty smile he grew fond of and how it made him feel, shoved them down deep, thinking that the distance would fix it, that it would kill whatever twisted thing was starting to grow inside him.
maybe if he just stayed away long enough, it’d disappear. but when he came back that summer, everything shifted. again. he should’ve walked away, should’ve ignored it. but curiosity clawed at him, dragged him closer, until he was standing in the doorway, peeking inside.
and what he saw? it fucked him up.
his breath hitched, heart slamming in his chest, pulse fucking skyrocketing as his eyes locked onto you. holy shit. you were on your bed, but it wasn’t just the sight of you lying there that stopped him cold. no, it was what you were doing.
his stomach twisted as he realized what was happening—you were straddling the teddy bear. that bear. the one he’d won for you years ago. but this? this wasn’t innocent, not in the way you used to cuddle it when you were younger. this was different. this was fucking worse.
you were grinding your pussy against it, hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. his breath hitched, his heart slamming in his chest as he watched you, lost in your own pleasure, completely unaware that he was watching.
you were wearing nothing but an oversized shirt, the way your pussy rubbed against the soft fabric of the bear, slick and wet. the obscene sounds it made as you humped it—it was like watching some twisted fantasy come to life.
except this was real. you were real. and you were right in front of him. you weren’t just humping it. you were fucking it, using it like it was the only thing that could get you off.
jesus fucking christ. his mind screamed at him to look away, to shut the door, to fucking forget this. but his body didn’t listen. eyes glued to you as you rocked your hips faster, he couldn’t stop watching the way your pussy moved, the way you were so lost in it.
his throat went dry, hands shaking as he gripped the doorframe. he knew this was wrong. so fucking wrong. but he couldn’t stop. couldn’t fucking stop watching the way your hips moved, the way you were so lost in it.
that darkness—the one he thought he had buried—was creeping back in, stronger than ever, twisting his insides, making his cock swell painfully in his pants. fuck.
this wasn’t curiosity anymore. this was darker. more dangerous. you weren’t just the awkward teenager he once knew. you were a woman now—a fucking gorgeous woman—and you were doing things that set every buried desire inside him on fire.
your movements grew more desperate, hips grinding harder, your hands gripping the bear’s fur tight as you moaned louder, your jaw going slack. jungwon’s chest heaved, his breath shallow as he watched, his own arousal throbbing, making it impossible to think straight.
shit. this wasn’t supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. not for you. but no matter how hard he fought it, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
jungwon’s mind was a whirlwind of guilt, shame, and overwhelming fucking lust. his cock strained in his pants, rock hard, body betraying him in the worst fucking way possible. he could barely breathe, barely fucking think. all he could do was watch as you came undone on that bear.
he had tried to convince himself that going to college would kill this twisted attraction, that the distance would erase it. but standing there, watching you, he knew he was wrong. so fucking wrong. the obsession hadn’t disappeared. it had grown. it had festered
and that night? it reignited something in him that he couldn’t control.
from that night on, he was no longer the same.
he couldn’t stop thinking about you. couldn’t get the image of you humping that bear out of his head. the sound of your moans, the sight of your pussy grinding against that fabric—it haunted him. consumed him. and he knew, watching from a distance wasn’t going to cut it anymore.
that’s when the plan started.
it didn’t take much. just a little manipulation, some subtle planning. you never noticed. you never did. the bear—the one you fucked so carelessly—became the perfect vessel for his sick curiosity.
he made a small incision in the back, right beneath the soft fur, where it wouldn’t be visible. he slid a tiny camera inside, adjusting the angle, hiding the lens so perfectly behind it's eyes, you would never know. you never did.
and from that day forward, he watched you like he was fucking studying you. memorizing every detail. he knew what turned you on, what porn you watched when you thought you were alone, which boyfriends made you scream, which ones you hated and which ones left you wanting more.
he saw and heard it all. every. single. moment.
this wasn’t some passive hobby anymore. no, everything jungwon did was calculated. planned to perfection. he made sure he was always home, always there, watching.
he never left anything to chance. he didn’t even look for a job—couldn’t risk being away for too long. he needed to be there, needed to make sure the camera was charged, that he didn’t miss a single second of you.
he told himself it wasn’t obsession, that it was just curiosity. but deep down, he fucking knew better. this was something twisted. and jungwon had built his entire world around you without you ever realizing.
he controlled everything. and no one—not even you—would ever figure it out.
while you lived your life, thinking everything was normal, jungwon’s mind was always ten steps ahead, planning, thinking. how could he keep you in his grasp without you knowing?
and for years, it worked. you never noticed how he made sure to align his life with yours. how his schedule revolved around you. he made it look natural, casual, like he was just the laid-back stepbrother who didn’t care about shit. but the truth? it was so much darker than that.
he knew everything.
he snapped out of his memories, his eyes locking onto the bear again. that moment, that fucking night. it haunted him. the memory burned into his mind, twisting his insides like a sickness he couldn’t cure.
he stood up, legs shaky, the room suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. it had all started so small, hadn’t it? he had convinced himself it was innocent.
just a way to keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe. that’s what he told himself when he planted the camera in the bear. back when he thought his feelings were still manageable. but that lie had crumbled a long time ago.
now, he needed to be close to you in ways that twisted his stomach and filled him with guilt so deep it kept him up at night. jungwon carefully placed the camera back inside the bear, adjusting it until it was in the perfect position. his hands were steady, but inside, he was falling apart.
he zipped it up, placing the bear back on the shelf, just like always. no matter how sick it made him, no matter how much he hated himself for this, he couldn’t stop. he needed this. he needed you in ways that fucking terrified him.
your room—it was his sanctuary when you weren’t home. the one place he could feel close to you without the crushing weight of being caught. in here, he could pretend, just for a second, that he had a part of you that no one else could touch.
it was so fucked up, and he knew it. but it was like an addiction, a need he couldn’t fucking shake. the guilt gnawed at him, but the need was stronger.
his heart twisted as his mind drifted back to you and jay. what were you two doing right now? the thought of jay touching you, making you laugh, getting close to you in ways jungwon never could—it made him feel like he was going to fucking explode.
you’re just his stepsister. he repeated the thought like a mantra, but the words were hollow, meaningless. that’s what you were supposed to be. that was the role he was supposed to play.
jungwon’s mind spiraled, pacing back and forth in your room, his footsteps soft but frantic. it was only a matter of time before jay would be here, touching you, fucking you.
and what the fuck was he supposed to do then? sit by and watch through the hidden camera? watch you fall and get fucked by someone else again?
probably.
fuck. he needed to leave. if he stayed in here any longer, he didn’t know what he’d do. the temptation was already clawing at him, the urge to take something of yours, to steal a piece of you like he had done before.
your panties, your scent—he’d stolen them, hid them away like trophies, jerked off to them countless times. but even that wasn’t enough anymore. not now. not with jay in the picture.
jay was a fucking threat. jungwon couldn’t stand it, the way you smiled when you talked about him, how your face lit up when you mentioned his name. fuck that.
jay was pulling you into a world where jungwon didn’t belong, where he couldn’t follow, and that scared the shit out of him. he was losing control, and it was driving him insane.
the watching, the sneaking, the careful fucking planning—it wasn’t enough anymore. it wasn’t keeping you close. you were slipping through his fingers, the thought of jay taking what was his, getting close to you in ways jungwon could never—fuck, it made him sick.
he shot one last look at the bear, the silent witness to his obsession, then stormed out of your room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. his breath was ragged, chest heaving as he leaned against the wall in the hallway. his heart pounded in his chest, a constant reminder of just how fucked up this had become.
he couldn’t keep living like this. the watching, the waiting, pretending it would all go away—that was bullshit, and he knew it. this obsession wasn’t something he could just bury anymore. it was eating him alive.
one day, watching wouldn’t be enough. the waiting, the creeping around behind your back—it wouldn’t satisfy the darkness inside him. he wanted more. he needed more.
and that day was coming sooner than he’d like to admit.
jungwon pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaky, mind racing, but even as he stormed down the hall, his thoughts were a jumbled mess, each one more fucked than the last. you were his. you didn’t know it yet, but you were.
jungwon reentered the living room, his footsteps heavier than usual, the weight of the shit storm in his head pulling him down with every step. he tried to shake it off, tried to act normal, but it was like a fucking itch he couldn’t scratch.
jake and sunghoon were still slouched on the couch, laughing at some inside joke, barely giving a shit about the movie playing in the background. jungwon forced a grin, slipping into the scene like nothing was wrong. like he wasn’t on the verge of snapping.
“what do you think, jungwon?” sunghoon’s voice had that edge to it, like he knew exactly what buttons to push. he always did. “you think jay’s the type to take her home, make breakfast the next morning? maybe throw in some flowers too?”
of course, they were still fucking talking about you. they just couldn't help themselves.
jungwon’s chest tightened, but he let out a forced laugh, “yeah, he seems like that kind of guy from what she tells me. real gentleman.” the words felt like they were choking him. he could barely get them out.
jake snickered, shaking his head like it was all a fucking joke. “well, at least she picked a decent guy this time.”
jungwon’s fingers twitched, every part of him screaming to shut this conversation down, but sunghoon leaned back, smirking like the asshole he was. “please. nice guys like jay? they’re hiding something. i bet he’s got some skeletons in the closet.”
jungwon clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. “let her have her fun,” he muttered, his voice tight. “she’ll tell us all about it when she gets back.”
his throat burned. “anyway,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound disinterested, like the image of you and jay wasn’t tearing him apart, “fuck this, this movie’s boring as hell.” he grabbed the remote, flipping through channels without even paying attention, just needing something—anything—to drown out the thoughts in his head.
jake and sunghoon didn’t argue, their attention shifting to the tv. but jungwon wasn’t watching. he couldn’t. his mind was far from the room, far from the flashing screen in front of him. his fingers tightened around the remote, knuckles going white, but he didn’t even notice.
he hated jay. hated him with every fiber of his being. not because jay was bad. no, that would’ve been easier to deal with. jay wasn’t bad. jay was good. too fucking good. the kind of guy who could give you everything, who’d make you feel safe, who’d make you happy in ways jungwon knew he never could.
jungwon hadn’t met him yet, didn’t need to. the way you looked when you talked about him, the way your eyes lit up—that told him everything. jay wasn’t just some guy. he was the kind of threat that jungwon couldn’t fight with fists or anger. jay was the real fucking deal.
and if it came down to it—if it came down to losing you completely? jungwon didn’t give a shit about jay. fuck jay.
he’d do whatever it fucking took to keep you his.
jungwon had changed, and jake and sunghoon noticed. how could they not? he was more agitated, easily irritated, barely said a word. he wasn’t the jungwon they were used to—the one who laughed at their dumb jokes, who was always cheerful in his own quiet way.
now, he was distant, like he had a constant storm brewing under the surface. and they tried asking him what the fuck was going on, throwing out questions like breadcrumbs, but they knew better than to push too hard. jungwon didn’t like to share shit, especially when it came to whatever was messing with his head.
they tried though, casually bringing up the girl jungwon had been seeing. when they asked if it was about her, his response was clipped, a warning wrapped in frustration. “it’s not about her. drop it,” he snapped, and they did. they loved him enough to not push.
instead, they did what they could. they showed up, more often than usual, hanging around the flat as much as possible. not enough to make it obvious that they were worried, but enough to remind him they were there.
jungwon didn’t tell them to fuck off, which said a lot. normally, when jungwon was fine, he didn’t need their company—he’d barely ask for it. but now? he tolerated it, and that meant he needed them, even if he’d never admit it.
the flat buzzed with the usual noise—jake and sunghoon arguing over takeout, the tv humming in the background—but jungwon felt none of it. all he could think about was you, and how the fuck you weren’t home yet.
“die hard never gets old,” jake waved his pizza slice like it was some declaration worth fighting over. “perfect movie for a night like this."
sunghoon rolled his eyes, slumping further into the couch. “bro, we’ve watched that shit like a hundred times. can we please pick something without bruce fucking willis?”
jungwon’s grip tightened on the remote, fingers pressing way too hard into the buttons as he scrolled through movie options, but he wasn’t seeing any of it. his thoughts were on you, and where the hell you were.
“so, is y/n out with her new bestie jay again?” jake asked, grinning as he exaggerated the air quotes around bestie. “she’s been spending a lot of time with him lately, huh?”
yeah, jungwon thought bitterly. too much fucking time.
“probably,” jungwon muttered, his eyes glued to the tv, even though nothing on the screen registered. his jaw was tight, teeth clenched to the point it felt like one would crack. “they’ve been working on a lot of projects together.”
“projects, huh?” sunghoon snorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. “sounds like he’s working on more than just projects.”
jake laughed, nudging jungwon with his elbow like this was all one big fucking joke. “yeah, come on, man. you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how close they’re getting.”
jungwon wanted to punch the grin right off his face, but he forced out a dry, humorless laugh instead. “it’s just work,” he said, voice tight, strained, like he was choking on the words. “she’s focused on her career.”
he wanted them to shut the fuck up. every word out of their mouths felt like nails on a chalkboard, scraping against the frayed edges of his control. jake and sunghoon never knew when to quit, always teasing, always pushing. and the more they talked about you and jay, the darker his thoughts got.
jake smirked, leaning back like he wasn’t stirring shit. “focused on work? nah, she’s focused on him,” he teased, tossing his pizza crust aside. “i’ve seen the way she smiles when she talks about him. it’s different, bro. you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
of course, i’ve fucking noticed. jungwon thought, his insides twisting, but he couldn’t say that. couldn’t admit how much it was killing him.
“she’s just happy, okay?” jungwon snapped, the words coming out sharper than he intended. his frustration bled through, cracking the mask he’d been holding up. as soon as the words were out, he regretted them.
sunghoon raised an eyebrow at jungwon’s outburst. “damn, man, relax. we’re just messing with you.” jake and sunghoon exchanged a glance—one of those silent, knowing looks that meant they were both thinking the same thing.
“dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” jake finally asked, leaning forward on the couch, his eyes narrowing at jungwon. there was no bite in his tone, just concern.
sunghoon, who had been lounging with his feet kicked up, straightened in his seat, nodding in agreement. “yeah, man. is something going on?”
jungwon sighed, his grip on the remote loosening as he tried to shake off the weight sitting heavy on his chest. he didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t even know how to—but he could feel their eyes on him, waiting, and for once, he couldn’t just brush it off.
“nothing’s wrong,” he muttered, voice flat, forcing a smile that felt like it could crack his face. “just been tired, you know?”
“bullshit,” jake said, calling him out instantly, his eyes narrowing further. “come on, don’t pull that tired card again. we’re not idiots. what’s really going on?”
jungwon let out a long, shaky breath, trying to play it off, but it was like a dam about to break. his fingers ran through his hair, tugging slightly as he avoided their stares. “it’s nothing,” he repeated, quieter this time, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
and then sunghoon said it. the thing.
“is this about jay?”
it was like someone had punched him in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. his jaw clenched so hard he thought it might snap. jake and sunghoon didn’t say anything for a moment, but that silence said everything.
jake and sunghoon exchanged another look, this time laced with humor—light, teasing. they understood what this was about, but in their usual fashion, they weren’t about to get too serious.
“so... you’re jealous,” jake said, grinning like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“yeah,” sunghoon added, “you’re scared jay’s gonna steal her away from you.”
jungwon’s lips twitched into a half-hearted smile despite himself. steal her away from me. they made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t this all-consuming thing eating at him day and night. but hearing it put like that, it almost made him feel better.
“oh, please,” jake smirked, leaning back into the couch, “as if jay stands a chance when sunghoon and i are here.”
sunghoon barked out a laugh, nodding. “exactly. y/n’s just wasting time with him until she realizes we’re the real deal.”
“you’re both idiots,” he muttered, shaking his head, but there was a small, genuine smile pulling at his lips now. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to ground him.
“so?” jake started, his grin widening, “you want us to sweep y/n off her feet? we could totally make it happen. bet she’d love to be spoiled by us.”
jungwon’s expression darkened for a second, but he played it off with a smirk. hiding how much it really fucked him up inside. “yeah? go ahead. i’d rather you two fuck her than let jay get his hands on her.”
the room fell into dead silence. jake and sunghoon both froze, staring at jungwon like he’d just said the most unhinged shit they’d ever heard. their eyes went wide, exchanging glances like they weren’t sure if he was fucking serious or just fucking around.
“what the fuck, dude?” jake raised an eyebrow, laughing awkwardly but still trying to figure out if jungwon was for real. “you can’t be serious.”
sunghoon looked just as thrown off, his brows furrowing like he wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation. “yeah, man, that’s... kind of fucked up.”
jungwon just chuckled lowly, leaning back against the couch, acting like it didn’t bother him. “what? you guys haven’t thought about it? with all the shit you say about her?” his eyes flicked between them, sharp, like he was daring them to admit something.
jake and sunghoon shifted, clearly uncomfortable, glancing at each other for a second too long. and that was all jungwon needed to know.
“come on,” jungwon pressed, narrowing his eyes, “you’re telling me you’ve never thought about fucking her?”
sunghoon cleared his throat, his eyes darting away, and jake rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking anywhere but at jungwon.
“well, i mean... we’ve joked about it,” jake finally muttered, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, “but we never... you know, took it seriously. she’s your sister, dude.”
jungwon laughed, but there was no humor in it. “right.”
“yeah, we never actually meant we’d... you know,” sunghoon added, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.
jungwon’s smirk stayed plastered on his face, but his eyes were dark, and they both knew they’d crossed into territory that felt too fucking dangerous. but jungwon couldn’t stop pushing it.
he needed them to feel as fucking uncomfortable as he did. maybe then they'd keep their mouths shut, and for the love of god try not to mention jay.
“relax,” he muttered, leaning back again, trying to appear calm. “i know you’re just talk. probably couldn’t handle her anyway.”
jake forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but it came out shaky. “yeah, well, maybe she’d eat us alive. guess we’ll never know.”
“yeah,” sunghoon chimed in, trying to keep things from spiraling further, “we’ll leave y/n to the real men, huh?”
he gave his friends a half-hearted grin, pretending like their banter had actually lifted his mood. but as the conversation moved on, their laughter filling the room, jungwon stayed silent, his mind spiraling back to the same thought that had been plaguing him for weeks.
he just wanted you home.
and no amount of jokes or cocky smiles could change that.
as he stared at the TV, barely registering the movie playing in front of him, he missed the quick look between jake and sunghoon—a brief exchange of glances, almost like a shared secret.
it went unnoticed by jungwon, buried beneath his own frustration, his jealousy too loud to hear anything else.
the frustration still buzzed under your skin as you leaned against jay’s car, the harsh fluorescent lights in the parking lot flickering overhead like they were mocking your mood. today had been a fucking disaster, all because your boss had to lose his shit over something as stupid as a font.
“can you believe that prick?” you huffed, running your fingers through your hair, still feeling the burn of irritation. “who the fuck cares about a font?”
jay chuckled, but you caught the edge in his eyes, the same frustration simmering beneath that calm, easygoing mask he always wore.
“yeah, the man’s got a real talent for missing the point,” he muttered, arms crossed, leaning back against his car like he wasn’t two seconds away from snapping himself.
he always had this way of looking like everything was under control, even when you both wanted to set the office on fire. “but fuck it, we crushed it. and honestly? he can go fuck himself.”
you let out a sharp laugh, tension easing off your shoulders just a little. jay always had that effect, making the shittiest days feel like they weren’t so bad when he was around. and even though you could tell he was just as pissed, he never let it show. it was... comforting, somehow.
god, he’s good, you thought, watching the way he managed to keep his cool when you were one bad comment away from throwing your laptop across the room.
“you’re better than me,” you said, your voice softening without meaning to. “i would’ve lost it in there.”
he shrugged, giving you a small, crooked smile. “just trying to keep the peace. doesn’t mean i’m not pissed.” his eyes flicked to yours, something darker in his gaze before he pushed off the car, a subtle shift in the air.
you glanced at your watch, realizing how late it was. fuck. jungwon was probably at home by now, waiting for you. the thought brought a flicker of guilt to your chest, but before you could get too lost in it, jay’s voice cut through your thoughts.
“hey,” he said, voice casual, but with an edge of something more. “wanna grab a drink? we deserve it after today.”
you blinked, a little caught off guard. “you sure? it’s late, and i didn’t peg you as the greasy takeout and beer type.”
jay grinned, that playful spark lighting up his eyes. “who said anything about greasy? i know a spot. nothing too fancy, just... chill.”
you raised a brow, skeptical. “knowing you, ‘chill’ could mean anything. i’m half-expecting a place that charges for air.”
he laughed, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping a bit. “trust me. you’ll like it.”
you hesitated for a second, but fuck it—you could use a drink. after the shitshow of a day you’d had, spending more time with jay wasn’t exactly a bad idea either.
you slid into his car, the leather cool against your skin as you let out a tired sigh. jay kept things light, cracking jokes that had you laughing and forgetting why you were so pissed in the first place. he had that way about him, making everything feel easier, like nothing was a big deal when you were with him.
when you pulled up to the restaurant, your jaw almost hit the floor.
“chaconne?” you half-laughed, staring at the chandeliers, the valet parking, and people walking in wearing designer shit like it was a casual tuesday. “you said ‘pretty chill,’ not... this.”
jay smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. “it’s not that bad. come on.”
you smacked his arm lightly as you stepped out of the car, rolling your eyes. “i would’ve been fine with some dive bar and burgers, you know.”
he laughed, guiding you inside. “yeah, but you deserve more than that. trust me.”
and, there it was again—something about the way he said that, the way he looked at you. it wasn’t just friendly anymore. it felt... intentional.
the second you stepped inside, the low hum of conversation and soft glow of chandeliers wrapped around you. this place was fancy, no doubt, and you felt a little out of place in your office attire.
but jay? he looked like he belonged here, pulling out a chair for you with a smoothness that made your stomach flip.
“this is too much,” you muttered, sitting down. “do they charge by chandelier?”
jay chuckled, sitting across from you, and for a second, something in his eyes softened in a way that made your chest tighten. “seriously, stop. you deserve it. this is my treat.”
you tried to shake off the warmth spreading through you, but it was hard to ignore. jay had always been sweet, always thoughtful, but tonight? there was something different in the way he looked at you. something heavier.
the banter flowed easily as it always did, jokes and sarcasm bouncing between you two like normal, but every time his knee brushed yours under the table, whether it was on purpose or not, you felt it. every glance, every smile, felt like a little spark that you weren’t sure what to do with.
it wasn’t just the food or the wine—it was him. the way he leaned in just a little closer when he talked, this wasn’t the usual flirtation you were used to with him. this felt... deliberate.
and as you sipped your wine, pretending not to notice the way jay’s eyes flicked down to your lips, you couldn’t help but wonder where the night was heading.
“what?” you asked, catching him watching you again as you set your glass down, trying to keep your voice steady.
jay leaned back in his chair, that familiar cocky smirk on his lips. “nothing,” he said, voice low, teasing. “just thinking... this might be the best idea i’ve had all week.”
you raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat. “taking me to an overpriced restaurant? yeah, real genius.”
he chuckled, his eyes darkening just a little. “no... spending more time with you.”
“are you flirting with me?” you teased, trying to keep it light, but your voice was softer now, your pulse picking up.
jay’s lips twitched, and for a second, his eyes dropped to your lips again before snapping back up. “maybe i am.”
you swallowed, the tension between you both thick enough to cut. “and here i thought you were a gentleman,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper now.
his smirk deepened. “i am,” he murmured, leaning in just a little more. “but you’re making it hard to stay one.”
the heat in your chest spread lower, and you shifted in your seat, trying to stay composed. “well, then maybe you should stop teasing.”
jay’s gaze flickered to your lips again, his voice dropping even lower. “maybe i don’t want to.”
the conversation flowed easily all night, a smooth back-and-forth, laughter filling the space between you and jay as the wine worked its magic, loosening the edge that had been hanging over you both.
you talked about everything—your turn-offs, shitty relationships, future plans—stuff you wouldn’t usually share with anyone. but with jay? it was easy. too easy.
“i was such a troublemaker back in the day,” jay confessed, laughing as he played with the rim of his wine glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the smooth surface. “got myself into some crazy shit before i finally realized i had to get my act together.”
you leaned in, grinning at him, already intrigued. “oh yeah? what happened? what made jay park, the legend, finally decide to get his shit together?”
he smirked, his eyes glinting with something darker, something playful as he met your gaze head-on. “had to step up. couldn’t be a a kid forever, right?”
you cocked your head to the side, teasing. “so, what? you’re a responsible troublemaker now?”
jay chuckled, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as his gaze lingered on you. “something like that.”
you could feel the wine starting to hit, your cheeks flushed, your body a little warmer than before, and you knew he’d noticed too. his eyes kept flicking over your face, taking in the flush on your skin under the dim light of the restaurant, like he was seeing you differently tonight.
“so,” you started, leaning forward just a little, a playful glint in your eye. “how much do you actually make, mr. responsible troublemaker?”
he didn’t answer right away, and you saw that smirk of his slowly curl back onto his lips. it was a power move, a playful one that had you shifting in your seat, wondering how long he was gonna drag this out.
he finally looked up, tapping his finger against his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “hmm, let me think…”
you rolled your eyes, laughing lightly as you leaned back, trying to keep it casual. “come on, don’t edge me like that.”
jay’s eyes flashed with something darker for just a split second, but he quickly covered it with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow at you. “edging you? didn’t know i was doing anything special.”
the heat in your face rose, but you didn’t back down. the tension between you was thick, a game you weren’t sure you could win, but fuck it—you were in too deep now.
“yeah, well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it,” you say suggestively.
jay’s smirk widened, his gaze sharpening as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “am i now? didn’t realize you were so impatient.”
you crossed your legs under the table, hoping he didn’t notice how tightly your thighs pressed together at his words, at the way your body was reacting to every little thing he was saying.
“i’m not impatient,” you replied, your voice a little breathier than you intended. “just curious. you’ve been holding out on me all night.”
his gaze dropped to your lips for just a second, almost too fast to catch, but it was enough to send your stomach flipping.
he leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower, his words wrapping around you like a caress. “maybe i’m just enjoying watching you squirm.”
the way he looked at you—like he wanted to eat you alive, like he was holding back on purpose—it took everything in you not to lose your composure completely.
“careful,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with a challenge. “you might regret teasing me.”
jay leaned back in his chair, still relaxed, still in control, but the air between you was charged, heavy with something neither of you could ignore. “i doubt i’d regret it,” he said, his smile too knowing, too cocky. “besides, you look good when you’re flustered.”
you swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool, but the way his words slid into the space between you made it impossible to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach.
he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
“you’re trouble, park,” you muttered, though your words lacked any real bite. truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. not even close.
jay grinned, his eyes glinting with that same playful, almost dangerous edge as he took another sip of his wine. “you have no idea.”
jay was still being a gentleman—technically, he wasn’t crossing any lines—but the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, it was enough to leave your pussy throbbing under the table.
by the time the night ended, and jay walked you out, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. and as you glanced up at him, catching the way his eyes lingered on yours, you knew you weren’t the only one feeling it.
you both stumbled up the stairs, giggles slipping out of you as jay’s hand stayed firmly on your back, warm and steady. no elevators, just endless steps, and the alcohol running through your veins made everything seem a little funnier than it should have been.
“god,” you slurred through your laughter, grabbing jay’s arm to steady yourself. “you’d think after living here for years, i’d be used to this.”
jay chuckled despite the mess of the night. “you’ve survived this long. i think you’ll make it.”
when your apartment finally came into view, you reached for your keys, but the loud shouts and bursts of laughter hit you first. you groaned, already knowing exactly who it was.
“shit,” you sighed, leaning into jay with a grin that felt more playful than exasperated. “jake and sunghoon are here. they’re probably playing that stupid horror game again.”
jay raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “you didn’t mention they’d be here.”
you shrugged, pushing the door open a little. “they’re harmless. might as well introduce you before they scare you off.”
quietly, you pushed the door open, jay trailing behind. the scene inside was chaotic—snacks scattered, empty cans thrown all over the place, the three boys huddled around the screen, completely lost in the game.
jake and sunghoon were yelling, clearly losing, while jungwon sat in the middle, eyes glued to the screen, fingers gripping the controller so tight his knuckles turned white. his jaw was locked, brows furrowed in concentration.
but the second his eyes flicked over to you, his grip tightened even more, and his pulse quickened as he took in the sight of your flushed cheeks, the tipsy smile that played on your lips. you looked fucking gorgeous.
“heyyy,” you giggled, stepping fully inside and waving dramatically at the guys. jake turned first, his grin wide and teasing as soon as he saw you.
“oh, look who’s back,” jake said, leaning back against the couch, voice dripping with amusement. “knew you’d be tipsy by now.”
sunghoon glanced over, laughing as well. “you look like you had one hell of a time.”
you pushed the door open wider, and that’s when all their attention shifted to jay standing behind you. jungwon felt his stomach drop, a cold knot forming in his chest. he didn’t need you to introduce him. he knew exactly who this guy was.
jay.
with a smooth smile, jay raised a hand in greeting. “hey, nice to meet you guys.”
jake and sunghoon exchanged quick, surprised glances, their tipsy minds catching up slower than usual. but they jumped up to greet him anyway, stumbling over themselves.
“hey, man!” jake practically shouted, extending his hand for a firm handshake. “nice to meet you.”
sunghoon followed right after, shaking his head with a grin. “yeah, didn’t know y/n had friends outside of work,” he teased, shaking jay’s hand too.
but jungwon? he was slower. more deliberate. his eyes stayed glued to you, even as he stood up, forcing himself to extend a hand to jay. his mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. this was the guy.
“nice to finally meet you,” jungwon said, his voice tight, the grip of his handshake firmer than it needed to be. “she wouldn’t shut up about you.”
there was a sharp edge to his words, but jay didn’t seem to catch it. he just laughed, throwing a glance in your direction. “oh yeah? she talks about me?”
jungwon forced a smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah, mostly about how fucking loaded you are.”
your face flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly nudged jungwon’s side, laughing awkwardly. “he’s exaggerating,” you muttered. “i didn’t say that much.”
jay chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “don’t worry. i’m flattered.”
he was too smooth. way too smooth. and the way you lit up every time he spoke? it was obvious. jay really wasn’t just some guy. all the anxiety he felt, made sense. he wasn't overthinking it, he wasn't being paranoid. jay was a bigger problem than he thought.
jungwon sat back down on the couch, fists clenched in his lap as jake and sunghoon dragged jay over, introducing him to the mess of their night. but jungwon couldn’t focus on their chatter, or the chaos of the room.
all he could see was you. standing there, flushed, tipsy, looking too fucking good for your own good.
you sat beside jungwon, wrapping your arms around him in a playful hug like you always did. “this is jungwon,” you said, smiling up at him with that same affection. “my brother.”
brother. right.
jungwon forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. if it were just the two of you, he’d be teasing you right now, making fun of how tipsy you were, how clingy you got when you were drunk. but with jay watching, he had to play it cool. had to pretend like everything was fine.
“yeah,” jungwon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “she talks about you all the time. couldn’t get her to shut up about how great you are.”
jay smiled, unfazed, clearly amused by the whole thing. “well, i’ll take that as a compliment.”
you groaned, swatting at jungwon’s arm. “why do you have to make it weird, won?”
but jungwon barely heard you. his eyes were glued to you—the way your shirt had come undone, your hair a mess from the night out, your skirt riding up just a little too high.
you looked like a fucking dream. and jay was seeing it, too. he could tell by the way jay’s eyes lingered on you, by the subtle shift in his smile.
jungwon’s fists tightened in his lap, and for a split second, he thought about saying something, anything to get you away from jay. but he didn’t. instead, he sat back, pretending like he didn’t care, like he always did.
the conversation flowed around him, jake and sunghoon going back and forth with jay, throwing questions at him about work, life, plans—shit jungwon couldn’t give a fuck about. every now and then, he’d force himself to chime in, all for the sake of keeping up appearances.
“so, jay,” jake asked, leaning in like they were old friends, a grin plastered across his face, “any big plans after this project with y/n?”
jay shrugged, his eyes flicking toward you for a second, and the way his gaze softened made jungwon want to punch something. “we’ve got a few more campaigns lined up, keeping us busy, but we’re handling it. y/n’s been great to work with.”
of course you’ve been great. “yeah, she’s an asset,” he muttered, the words sharp and bitter.
you shot jay a warm smile, and the look in your eyes, that soft admiration, twisted the knife deeper. “he’s just being modest,” you said, your voice quiet but full of gratitude. “i’ve learned a lot from him.”
jungwon couldn’t fucking stand it. the way you looked at jay like he hung the stars in the sky, like he was something special.
the conversation dragged on for a few more minutes, jay playing the perfect gentleman, but all jungwon could focus on was the way you seemed to gravitate toward him, like the room wasn’t big enough to keep the distance.
then, you glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. “shit,” you muttered, standing up a little too quickly, swaying on your feet, tipsy from the wine. “i should probably go to bed.”
jay was on his feet instantly, his hand on your arm, steadying you before you could even stumble. “you okay?”
“yeah, just… tipsy,” you laughed, brushing it off like it was nothing. but jungwon saw it. the way jay looked at you, warm. protective. everything jungwon wanted to be for you.
jungwon stayed silent as he watched you lean into jay, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. every time you smiled at him, every time you let yourself get a little too close, jungwon felt his patience wearing thin.
“i’ll walk you to your room,” jay offered, his voice soft, like it was some grand fucking gesture. and you, tipsy and flustered, nodded, grateful.
jungwon didn’t say a word. he stood there, stiff, watching as you and jay made your way toward the hall. every part of him screamed to do something, to stop you, to pull you away from jay and tell you to stay. to tell you that it should’ve been him walking you to your room, not jay.
but he didn’t. he just forced a small, tight smile, pretending like he wasn’t falling apart inside as he watched you leave with someone else.
“she’s in good hands, man,” sunghoon said after a beat, breaking the silence, giving jungwon a look that was far too knowing for his liking. “jay seems solid.”
“yeah,” jungwon muttered, his voice barely audible, barely able to form the words. “i’m sure she is.”
but deep down, all he could think about was how badly he wished it was him. he wanted to be the one you trusted, the one you leaned on when you were tipsy and unsteady. the one you turned to when you needed someone.
the one you chose.
as jay walked you down the hallway, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you could feel the warmth of his touch seeping through your skin, making your body hum under his fingers.
everything around you feeling lighter, easier, thanks to the alcohol still buzzing in your system. “first time getting walked to my damn room,” you mumbled, a grin pulling at your lips. “so... proper.”
jay chuckled, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. “someone’s gotta make sure you get there in one piece,” he teased, his hand lingering on your back, staying there a little longer than necessary.
you rolled your eyes, stumbling slightly as you caught yourself with his help, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “oh, please. i’ve lived here forever. pretty sure i could find my way blindfolded.”
jay smirked, steadying you with that familiar, calm touch, leaning in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you sure about that? i'm pretty sure you almost face-planted into that wall.”
you laughed, swatting at his chest, “okay, maybe i’m a little more drunk than i thought.”
the laughter faded as you both reached your door, the air between you thickening, tension slowly building. jay’s hand slipped away from your back, but his eyes stayed glued to yours. he took a step back, just enough to let the moment breathe, but you could still feel him, that pull between you two impossible to ignore.
“you good?” he asked softly, his voice losing some of the teasing, dropping into something more intimate, more real.
you nodded, biting your lip as warmth spread through your chest, not just from the wine, but from the way he was looking at you. “yeah... thanks for tonight. i had a good time.”
jay smiled, his gaze flicking down to your lips for the briefest second before he met your eyes again. “me too,” he murmured, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret with you. “i’m glad we did this.”
you swallowed, the weight of the moment settling in your chest, and then—your tipsy brain decided to cut through the tension. “okay, mister proper,” you teased, though your voice was a little more breathless than you intended, “this is where you leave me.”
jay ran a hand through his hair, stepping back a little, but his eyes never left yours. “right. wouldn’t want to ruin my perfect gentleman streak.”
you laughed, but the heat between you hadn’t gone anywhere. “goodnight, jay.”
“goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, and with one last look, he turned and started walking down the hallway, leaving you standing there, heart still racing in your chest.
you watched him go, and just as he reached the corner, something inside you stirred—nerves, excitement, you weren’t sure—but before you could stop yourself, you called out, “wait, jay?”
he stopped, turning back to you, that easy smile tugging at his lips again. “yeah?”
you hesitated, the wine still making you a little bolder than usual. “you’re not just leaving like that, are you?”
jay raised an eyebrow, his smile turning more playful, more curious. “what, you miss me already?”
you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest only grew. “maybe,” you teased, leaning against the doorframe, trying to keep it light, “just wasn’t expecting you to... leave so fast.”
jay started making his way back toward you, his hands slipping into his pockets, his eyes locked on yours as he stopped just a few steps away. “well, you did say ‘goodnight,’” he pointed out, his smirk still there, confident and infuriating.
you bit your lip, feeling a sudden wave of self-consciousness, but you pushed through it, “yeah, but i didn’t mean, like, leave-leave.” your voice trailed off slightly as you glanced down, heat rising in your cheeks. “i just... i really had fun tonight. thanks for... everything.”
jay took another step closer, his voice dropping even lower, that same calm, comforting tone. “it was my pleasure. i had a great time too, y/n. honestly.”
you looked up at him, and there it was again—that feeling. the butterflies in your stomach, the way he was standing so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.
“so...” you started, your voice a little shaky, “i guess, uh... i’ll see you tomorrow?”
jay inhaled deeply, his smile still there but a little more restrained. “yeah,” he said softly, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”
for a second, you were sure he might lean in, that the night was about to take a different turn. but then jay stepped back, just enough to let the moment hang in the air, unresolved. “we’ll leave it at that... for now.”
then, without another word, he turned, walking down the hallway with a quiet confidence that left you breathless. he didn’t look back, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, mind spinning.
leave it at that, for now. the words replayed in your mind, a promise, a pause in the inevitable. it left you wondering—not if—but when something more might happen.
the sound of the front door closing echoed through the quiet apartment, sealing the night behind you. faint murmurs of jay saying his goodbyes to the boys lingered, but they felt distant, drowned out by the racing pulse in your chest.
once you made it to your room, the door clicking shut behind you, you exhaled a long breath, one you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto for so long. everything from the evening hung in the air—every glance, every word exchanged between you and jay, replaying in your mind like a highlight reel.
“oh my god,” you muttered under your breath, feeling the heat rise to your face as a smile broke across your lips. and then, without warning, a giggle slipped out.
you tried covering your mouth with your hands, but it was no use—the excitement bubbling up inside you couldn’t be contained.
before you knew it, another laugh escaped, louder this time, and suddenly you were bouncing on your bed, your body moving purely from the rush of joy flooding your veins.
jay liked you. or at the very least, there was something there, something undeniable. the realization hit you all at once, and it sent another wave of excitement straight through you.
you collapsed onto your bed, sinking into the pillows with a grin you couldn’t wipe away if you tried.
“what the hell just happened?” you whispered, staring up at the ceiling, still in disbelief at how the night had played out. hugging a pillow to your chest, you giggled again, feeling the thrill of possibility wrapping around you like a blanket.
everything about tonight felt different. special. like it was the start of something you weren’t ready to name, but you could feel it growing. rolling onto your side, you clutched the pillow tighter, another quiet laugh slipping out.
“i can’t believe that just happened,” you mumbled, still grinning like you were in some sort of dream, your mind racing with the memory of jay’s lingering touches, the way he looked at you, the way his words felt like they held a secret just for you.
as you lay there, thoughts kept drifting back to him—how easy it was being around him tonight, how much fun you had together, how different it felt from every other time you’d seen him at work. tonight was different, you could feel it.
something between the two of you had changed, and you knew that tomorrow, things wouldn’t be the same.
jungwon sat slumped on the couch, his eyes glued to the tv, the images blurred together, meaningless noise in the background of his thoughts. jay had left a while ago, but the tension in jungwon’s chest hadn’t gone anywhere.
he absentmindedly reached into a bag of stale chips, shoving another one in his mouth, but it tasted like cardboard. his mind was too busy replaying every interaction between you and jay, over and over, like some sick movie he couldn’t turn off.
jake and sunghoon were still chatting, their voices fading as the night wore on. they’d been talking about marvel movies, but jungwon hadn’t really been listening. he felt like his brain was overheating.
sunghoon stretched out lazily on the couch, his voice heavy with sleep. “so... jay. dude seems solid, huh? i don't think you should worry about y/n too much.”
jake groaned, half-asleep already, tossing a pillow over his head. “he’s cool, but man, too tired for this shit. let’s talk tomorrow.” his words were muffled, barely coherent as he drifted closer to sleep.
jungwon’s grip tightened on the chip bag, the plastic crinkling under his fingers. he wanted to tell them to shut the hell up, to stop talking about jay like it was no big deal. but he stayed quiet, shoving another tasteless chip in his mouth, chewing mechanically.
sunghoon, still awake, glanced over at jungwon with a lazy smirk. “but don’t you think it’s weird? like, he just shows up out of nowhere, and now he’s all over y/n?”
the comment made jungwon’s stomach churn but he kept his mouth shut. he didn’t trust himself to speak without losing it.
jake, half-conscious now, mumbled from under the pillow, “y/n’s a big girl. she knows what she’s doing. jay’s just a guy.”
just a guy. jungwon swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing down the bile that was rising. he wanted to scream, to throw something, to do anything to stop feeling like this.
“he’s not just some guy,” jungwon muttered under his breath, the words slipping out before he could stop them. he wasn’t even sure if sunghoon or jake had heard him.
but sunghoon had. he turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow at jungwon. “what was that?”
jungwon sighed, trying to play it off, forcing himself to sound casual. “nothing. just... hope he’s not wasting her time.”
sunghoon yawned, stretching again, his eyelids heavy. “nah, y/n’s smart. she’ll figure it out.”
jungwon glanced at jake, who had passed out completely, limbs sprawled out across the couch. sunghoon wasn’t far behind, his head nodding as sleep pulled him under.
but jungwon couldn’t sleep. his mind wouldn’t shut off. with a deep sigh, jungwon stood up, tossing the half-empty chip bag onto the coffee table. the quiet hum of the fridge filled the flat as he made his way to the kitchen. he grabbed two beers, the cool metal of the cans grounding him, if only for a second.
as he walked back toward his room, he passed by your door. he slowed down, his eyes lingering on it. were you still awake? were you thinking about jay right now? the thought made his chest tighten, but he forced himself to keep walking, pushing open the door to his own room.
he dropped into his chair, cracking open the beer with a sharp hiss. he took a long swig, hoping the alcohol would numb the gnawing ache in his gut. he booted up his computer, needing a distraction, something to take his mind off everything.
but the second the screen flickered to life, his stomach dropped.
there it was—the live feed from the camera he’d hidden in your room. his eyes locked onto the screen, guilt and shame flooding his body in an instant.
but he doesn't look away.
jungwon sat frozen, staring at the screen like it was some sort of punishment he couldn’t escape from. there you were, sitting on your bed, bathed in the soft glow of your bedside lamp, phone in hand, giggling quietly to yourself.
you looked so fucking happy. too happy. your fingers moved quickly over the phone, typing, pausing now and then to laugh softly, lips curling into that familiar smile. the smile he knew wasn’t for him.
jungwon took another long swig of his beer, trying to drown out the jealousy gnawing at him, but like everything else, it didn’t help. nothing ever did.
he set the beer down, fingers curling into tight fists as he watched you. part of him wanted to slam the laptop shut but he needed to know who you were texting, though he could already guess it by now.
his breath caught as you suddenly sat up, that same damn smile spreading across your face. the eagerness in your movements sent a wave of dread crashing over him.
what the fuck was happening?
you stood in front of your mirror, fixing your hair, smoothing out your clothes. jungwon watched you, his grip on the mouse tightening. you hadn’t even been home an hour and you were already getting ready to talk to jay again? seriously?
it was hard enough seeing you with jay earlier, but now—now you were about to do a video call, giggling like some lovesick teenager.
you glanced at your phone, then plopped back onto your bed, adjusting yourself, fluffing your hair, making sure everything was just right. jungwon’s heart sank. he knew that look all too well.
it was all for jay.
he couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching as you picked up your phone again, smiling at whatever message popped up on the screen. then, through the speakers, he heard it—your voice.
"miss me already?" you said, laughter filled the room, and jungwon felt his chest tighten.
of course.
the beer can in his hand crumpled slightly under the pressure of his grip, but he didn’t care. every muscle in his body was wound tight, ready to snap. he listened, jaw clenched, as jay’s voice crackled through the speakers, muffled but clear enough to set jungwon’s blood boiling.
“just got home,” jay’s voice said, casual, like none of this was fucking with jungwon’s head. “first time on a video call, huh? can’t believe we’ve never done this before.”
your eyes sparkled as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, settling into the bed, completely unaware of the storm brewing in the next room.
“yeah, kinda weird but fun,” you replied, your voice light, carefree. “guess there’s a first for everything.”
the conversation between you and jay flowed easily, his voice seeping through the speakers like poison as you both planned to meet up again. jungwon could barely breathe as he listened to you suggest the weekend.
“maybe we can do something... just us,” jay’s voice came through, warm and smooth.
just us. jay wasn’t just a passing interest. he was already staking his claim, like jungwon didn’t even exist.
then you teased, your voice dropping to a playful tone, the kind you only used when you were comfortable with someone. “is it the alcohol, or are you actually obsessed with me, jay?”
jay chuckled, his voice lower now, raspier. probably from exhaustion, probably because he was thinking about you. “oh, you caught me. totally obsessed. can’t stop thinking about you.”
you bit your lip, a small smile playing on your lips. fuck, you were glowing. you were eating this shit up. “well, you do seem to be sticking around,” you teased, enjoying every second of it.
jungwon’s stomach churned. he could see it all over your face—how much you were enjoying this. how much jay was getting under your skin, in ways that no one else ever had.
then, you took it further. “if i’m so special, you’d break your gentlemanly streak.”
jungwon could hear the playful edge in jay’s voice as he responded. “is this why you called? you wanted me to stay over, didn’t you?”
your laugh was soft, but jungwon could see the way you bit your lip, see how flustered you were getting. “i don’t know. you tell me.”
jungwon’s fist slammed down on the desk before he even realized it, the sharp thud breaking the moment. his entire body shook with the effort of holding back, his chest heaving as anger twisted inside him. the beer can crumpled completely in his hand, but he didn’t care. his focus was on you—on what was happening right in front of him.
this was worse than anything. worse than any of your exes. because with jay, it wasn’t just physical. jay was pulling you in, wrapping you around his fucking finger, and jungwon couldn’t do shit about it.
your head snapped up at the sudden noise, your smile faltering as you glanced toward jungwon’s room. “what was that?” you asked, the unease creeping into your voice, pulling you out of the moment with jay.
on the screen, jay raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in his eyes. “everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, probing, like he could sense something was off.
you forced a smile, waving it off, though the tension lingered in the air. “yeah, it’s fine,” you said, but the waver in your voice gave you away. you glanced back toward jungwon’s room, your brow furrowed. “i think it’s just jungwon.”
jay’s concern deepened. “is he okay? maybe you should check on him.”
you hesitated, torn between the conversation and the guilt tugging at you. was jungwon okay? the noise had been loud, and it wasn’t like him to react like that. what the hell was going on with him? you bit your lip, uncertainty creeping in.
“he’s probably fine,” you muttered, trying to convince yourself as much as jay. “maybe he just dropped something.”
but deep down, you weren’t sure. things had been off with jungwon lately—he’d been distant, quieter. and you had been caught up in other things, like work, like jay, barely noticing it.
jay’s voice cut through your thoughts. “are you sure? i don’t mind letting you go if you need to check on him.”
you shook your head, not wanting to break the mood between you two. “no, no... he’s probably just being his usual grumpy self.”
but even as you said it, you couldn’t shake the unease. maybe jungwon was upset. maybe you had been neglecting him. you sighed, running a hand through your hair, wondering when things had gotten so complicated.
“what’s wrong with him?” you muttered under your breath, glancing toward your door again.
jay tried to lighten the mood, his voice warm. “he’s probably just jealous. i mean, if i had a sister like you, i’d be protective too.”
you laughed, though it sounded hollow. “yeah, he’s always been that way,” you admitted, though the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen.
jay’s gaze softened, concern and affection mixing in his expression. “seriously, though. if he’s upset, you should talk to him.”
you nodded, knowing jay was right, but not wanting to deal with it right now. the conversation between you and jay had been going so well, and you weren’t ready to let it go yet. “sorry to cockblock you,” you muttered with a grin, trying to shift the mood back to playful.
jay’s laughter was immediate, warm and infectious, shaking off some of the tension. “oh, come on,” he said, still chuckling. “don’t apologize. i’m just glad you still think i’m a gentleman after all this.”
his laugh made you smile despite yourself, and for a moment, the unease faded. you joined in, teasing him right back. “well, i did just ruin the moment.”
jay wiped away a fake tear, grinning. “trust me,” he said, voice still playful, “there’s no ruining anything with you.”
an idea hit you, your eyes lighting up with mischief as you giggled, grabbing your phone. excitement bubbled inside as you scrolled through your gallery, your finger hovering over a certain photo. the smile on your face faltered for just a second.
it wasn’t exactly a nude, but the picture of you in your baby blue lingerie set? yeah, it was definitely provocative.
jay’s brow shot up when he noticed the hesitation. “what are you up to?” he asked, the playful tone lingering in his voice, teasing, almost challenging.
you grinned, your lip tugging between your teeth. “it’s an apology,” you teased, before hitting send. your heart raced as you waited, watching his phone buzz. anticipation prickled up your spine, making your stomach flip in that giddy way.
when jay opened the message, his reaction was instant. he sat up straighter, his lips parting, eyes widening as they scanned the image. the moment it clicked, his teeth sunk into his lower lip, and you heard the faintest groan escape him. fuck, he looked sexy like that.
“well, damn,” jay muttered, his voice a bit lower, his gaze flicking back to yours. “kind of regret leaving so soon now.”
a wave of warmth spread through you, making your pulse race. leaning closer to the screen, you bit your lip, “so, still gonna be a gentleman, or am i that special?”
jay’s grin spread wider, amusement glinting in his darkened eyes. “depends,” he murmured, his voice smooth, inviting, “how special do you think you are?”
your confidence surged, and you shot back without missing a beat. “oh, i’d say i’m worth bending the rules for.”
jay’s chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, his gaze flicking back to the photo. “if you keep talking like that,” he said, voice dropping, “i just might.”
you were about to push further, to see just how far he’d go with this, but then you heard it again—a sound from the other side of the wall. jungwon. again.
jay noticed immediately, his playful demeanor shifting to something more concerned. “still think he’s okay?” he asked, his tone soft but pointed.
you sighed, glancing at your door. “i don’t know... maybe i should check on him.”
jay nodded, his expression softening. “yeah, probably a good idea. we can pick this up later.”
he smirked, and there was a glint in his eyes, a promise in his voice. “but next time,” he paused, leaning closer to the camera, “wear that same set when i take you out.”
you laughed softly, warmth still lingering in your chest even after the call ended. the teasing excitement from jay stayed with you, but now, there was something else brewing. a sense of worry, creeping in at the edges. jungwon.
you stood, giggling softly as the room tilted slightly. damn, you were more tipsy than you realized, and it took a second to steady yourself against the wall.
jay kept you grounded, kept your focus on him like no one else could. but now, without him on the line, everything felt off, unsettled. maybe that’s just what he did to you—pulled all your attention in, made you forget everything else, even forget about how much you used to think about jungwon. and now, without him, everything was crashing back in.
stumbling slightly, you sighed, feeling the weight of your concern. jungwon. something wasn’t right, not with the way he’d been acting, not with the thud from earlier echoing in your mind.
you couldn’t ignore it anymore.
pushing yourself forward, you headed down the hallway, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the wine or jay.
what the hell is going on with him?
as you approached jungwon’s door, the sound of your familiar footsteps made his heart race. panic surged through him, adrenaline kicking in. he could hear your clumsy shuffle outside, but his mind was too clouded to focus—his eyes glued to the live feed still open on his screen.
fuck.
his fingers scrambled across the keyboard, minimizing the window in a flash. his screen flickered back to the innocent desktop wallpaper just as the door swung open.
you stumbled in, nearly tripping over yourself, that tipsy smile lighting up your face. “hey,” you slurred, gaze locking onto him. jungwon sat there, stiff as a board, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
you noticed the way his eyes darted toward the screen before meeting yours again. something was definitely off.
“you good?” you asked, voice soft but with genuine concern, even through your drunk haze. there was something about his posture, the awkward stiffness that made you pause.
his screen showed nothing out of the ordinary—just a plain wallpaper. but the way he looked at you, like he’d been caught red-handed, made your drunk mind spin. the realization hit you, and a teasing grin spread across your face.
“oh…” you mumbled, eyes widening in mock surprise. “were you…?” you trailed off, giggling as the most obvious explanation popped into your head.
was jungwon watching porn?
jungwon’s heart pounded harder, realizing what you were thinking. the teasing look in your eyes, the way you bit your lip to hold back laughter—it was clear you had jumped to a conclusion. and letting you believe that? yeah, way better than the truth.
in a split second, he made the decision.
“yeah,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair, trying to act casual. “caught me.”
your eyes blinked in surprise, not expecting him to admit it so easily. the teasing grin faltered for a moment, but then you laughed, stumbling a bit as you waved your hands in a sloppy apology.
“oh shit—sorry!” you giggled, your voice light as you tried not to laugh too hard. “didn’t mean to interrupt or anything.”
jungwon forced a smirk, his insides churning, but his face stayed calm. “it’s fine,” he shrugged, playing it cool, even though his mind was still racing.
you leaned against the doorframe, your drunken smile wide as you eyed him. something about the way he was sitting there—too still, too stiff—made you pause. but your hazy mind couldn’t hold onto the thought for long, quickly getting distracted by the warmth in your body and the lightness in your head.
“well, don’t work too hard, alright?” you teased, throwing him a playful wink.
jungwon cleared his throat, fumbling over his words in a weak attempt to seem casual. “yeah, uh… i just hit my knee on the table earlier. nothing big.” it was a pathetic excuse, and he knew it. but you were drunk, too drunk to notice how thinly veiled the lie was. you giggled, brushing it off.
“really?” you laughed, stepping closer to him, your eyes gleaming with curiosity. “sounds like you were watching something good.”
but something shifted in his expression—his eyes darkened, the atmosphere thickening around you. you froze for a second, your drunken confidence faltering as you stopped just short of getting too close.
“why’re you so curious all of a sudden?” jungwon’s voice had dropped lower, more serious, almost challenging. “wanna know what i’m into?”
the question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been. your breath hitched, the alcohol making it hard to process the meaning behind his words. and then it hit you. your heart raced as you blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze.
“oh, come on,” you muttered nervously, laughing to shake off the tension. “don’t be weird. besides…” you trailed off, eyes sweeping over him in a way you hadn’t before, your tongue loose from the alcohol. “you’re already hot, you don’t need that stuff.”
jungwon’s heart nearly stopped. hot? you’d called him hot? he stared at you, his brain short-circuiting, trying to process what you’d just said. he didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to do with the way his chest tightened at your casual compliment.
you blinked, suddenly aware of what you’d let slip. “i mean—” you stammered, waving your hand as if to erase the awkwardness. “forget it. you should just get a girlfriend.”
the words hit him harder than they should have. get a girlfriend. like it was that simple. like anyone could ever compare to you. his eyes lingered on you, the way your clothes were wrinkled from the day, how you stood there so oblivious to what you did to him.
how many times had he imagined you, like this, stumbling into his room, his bed, then fucking you in that exact outfit? he swallowed hard, the desire twisting painfully inside him as he forced a neutral expression.
“yeah…” he mumbled, his voice barely steady. “maybe i should.”
but you didn’t notice the turmoil behind his eyes. you were already pulling away, giggling softly as you pushed off the doorframe. “anyway, don’t stay up too late watching… whatever,” you teased, oblivious to the storm raging inside him.
the door clicked shut behind you, and jungwon’s body slumped in his chair. his breath came out shaky, his chest tight with frustration. fuck, he wanted you. wanted you so bad it physically hurt.
his eyes stayed glued to the door long after you’d left, the tension in his body refusing to dissipate. slowly, his gaze drifted back to the computer screen, his fingers twitching toward the mouse. the live feed was still there, minimized in the taskbar, waiting. he could feel the pull, the temptation to click it, to watch you again.
a frustrated groan slipped past his lips as he rubbed his face with both hands, trying to shake the need out of his head. you were so fucking clueless. so damn unaware of the effect you had on him, how deeply you’d burrowed yourself into his mind.
just as he thought he might get a grip on himself, he heard it—your voice, slurred and cheerful, calling out from down the hallway.
“i love ya!” you sang, your words soaked in alcohol and affection.
jungwon froze. his heart twisted painfully in his chest as he heard your drunken giggle follow, light and carefree—the kind of laugh that used to make him smile. now it felt like someone twisting the knife deeper.
his hands pressed against his eyes, trying to block out the sound, trying to ignore the way your words lingered in his head. “i love ya!”—like it didn’t mean anything. like it was just something you threw around casually. he knew it was the alcohol talking, knew you didn’t mean it. not in the way he wanted you to.
and that made it worse. that fucking shattered him.
jungwon shot up from his chair like a bullet, his heart hammering against his chest, the rage swallowing him whole. his body trembled, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. he couldn’t sit still, couldn’t keep the frustration bottled up.
pacing back and forth, his muscles burned, stretched to their limit as he swung his arms wildly, desperate for some kind of release. every breath was shallow, sharp, as if he was trying to breathe through the suffocating pressure building inside him.
but nothing was working.
without thinking, he grabbed the closest thing in reach—a small figurine on his desk—and hurled it against the wall with a guttural shout. the sound of it shattering into pieces, scattering across the floor, barely registered in his mind. it did nothing to ease the tension coiling tighter, suffocating him.
it wasn’t enough. nothing was enough.
"fuck, fuck, fuck!" he snarled under his breath, dragging his hands through his hair, yanking hard at the strands in frustration. the sharp pain barely registered. his chest was heaving, the walls of his room closing in on him, making it harder to breathe. you were killing him.
he couldn’t stop thinking about you—your stupid fucking smile, the way you looked at jay, the way you teased like you didn’t even realize what you were doing to him. it was eating him alive.
the urge to check the live feed clawed at his mind, gnawing at his last shreds of self-control. his body practically collapsed back into the chair, hands shaking as his fingers hovered over the mouse, ready to click, ready to see you again. but he couldn’t do it. couldn’t give in.
with a growl of frustration, he slammed his fist down on the desk, the sharp sting shooting through his knuckles barely enough to register. the pain was a welcome distraction from the ache burning inside him.
“why the fuck did you say that?” he whispered, voice cracking with resentment. “you don’t mean it. you don’t fucking mean it.”
the words tasted bitter on his tongue as he stared at the empty desktop, his breathing uneven, his pulse pounding in his ears. you’d called him hot like it was nothing, like it was just a throwaway comment, and yet, here he was—burning from the inside out, unraveling because of you.
how many times had you stood in front of him, drunk and completely clueless, without realizing just how deeply you’d twisted him up inside? it was like you enjoyed torturing him, like you knew he was at your mercy and didn’t care.
his hand twitched toward the nearby beer, his throat dry from the anger that kept simmering, boiling over. with a quick flick, he cracked it open, foam spilling over the edge as he downed half of it in one long gulp, desperate for something—anything—to numb the pain cutting into him.
the bitter taste coated his mouth, his lips curling in disgust as he wiped them with the back of his hand. jay. it always came back to fucking jay.
jungwon downed the rest of the beer, slamming the empty can onto the desk so hard the noise echoed through the room. his head dropped into his hands, shoulders trembling as the weight of it all crushed him, pressing down until he couldn’t take it anymore.
“fuck.”
jay had slipped into your life so easily, it was almost hard to remember a time when he wasn’t around. he visited often now, seamlessly fitting into your friend group, and even got close with jake and sunghoon. it felt like he’d always been there, like he belonged.
jungwon, though, had been a different story. after that night, after everything, he’d been distant for a while. but now? now, he sat right next to jay on the couch, controller in hand, eyes glued to the xbox screen like nothing had ever happened.
he seemed fine—more than fine, actually. like he’d accepted everything, like he wasn’t even phased by the way jay had embedded himself into your world.
tonight wasn’t any different. jay was over again, sitting in his usual spot, and everyone else was gathered in the living room too. the sound of the xbox filled the space, a low hum of explosions and gunfire. jake was sprawled on one couch, half-asleep with a soda can dangling from his hand, while sunghoon sat on the floor, shoving popcorn into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days.
you perched on the arm of the couch, watching jay and jungwon play another round of whatever shooting game they’d gotten into. it was almost funny—how easily they got along now, how the tension that once lingered between them had melted away.
"we're crushing it," jay laughed, glancing at jungwon with a grin.
jungwon cracked a rare, genuine smile, his eyes still on the screen. "don’t get cocky," he muttered, smirking. "you only won 'cause i carried."
jay nudged him with his elbow, his grin widening. “team effort, man.”
you couldn’t help but smile, watching the way they bantered so naturally. jungwon, the one who usually kept his cool, had loosened up around jay in a way you hadn’t expected. maybe it was surprising how quickly they’d become friends, but it was a relief too.
“you two make a good team,” you teased, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch, your voice light, trying to ignore the small tug of something in your chest.
“yeah, guess i don’t mind him hanging around,” jungwon said, shaking his head with a small laugh, like he couldn’t quite believe it either.
jay shot you a teasing grin. “wow, jungwon actually tolerates me now. i must be doing something right.”
jungwon rolled his eyes, but the smirk on his face made it clear he didn’t mind the teasing. “don’t get too comfortable.”
jake, who had been half-listening, suddenly perked up, pointing lazily at the screen. “jungwon’s just mad 'cause jay’s better at the game now. remember the first time he played? total trash.”
“not trash,” jay argued, raising his hands defensively. “just... learning.”
jungwon chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "yeah, yeah. let's see if you can hold your own in the next round."
it was weird seeing jungwon like this—so relaxed, so easygoing. he was always the serious one, the one who kept things close to his chest. but around jay? it was like the walls he usually built around himself had crumbled.
“so, when’s the next big project at work?” sunghoon asked between mouthfuls of popcorn. "you two have basically been glued to your desks."
you laughed softly, shaking your head. “we’re almost done, thank god. then maybe we can actually hang out like normal people again.”
jay smiled, his voice warm and casual. “yeah, maybe we can all do something. outside of work for a change.”
jake grinned, tossing a pillow across the room at jay. “you gonna pay for dinner, rich boy?”
jay caught the pillow, laughing. “guess i’m buying.”
jungwon laughed too, shaking his head at the back-and-forth. "yeah, you owe us."
for a second, everything felt perfect. like the puzzle pieces of your life had finally clicked into place. jay was here, a part of it all, and jungwon—jungwon had accepted it. accepted him. it should’ve been a relief, but something about the whole thing gnawed at you.
jungwon’s shift in attitude, the way he seemed so... okay with everything. it was too sudden. too easy. but you shoved the thought aside. maybe it was nothing. maybe you were overthinking it.
“all right, rematch?” jay suggested, glancing at jungwon with a playful smirk.
jungwon grabbed his controller again, eyes gleaming with determination. “let’s do it.”
they dove back into the game, and as the laughter and playful insults filled the room, you sat back, content for the moment. but that small, nagging voice in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. jungwon’s sudden acceptance felt... off. like there was more under the surface, something he wasn’t saying.
you shook the thought away, focusing on the present. jay and jungwon were getting along, and that was enough. for now.
“hey,” jay’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the room. “you’re up next, right?”
you grinned, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders for a moment. “oh, i’m definitely taking you down.”
the room was filled with laughter again, and as the game continued, you tried to let yourself believe that this—right here—was how things were supposed to be. but somewhere deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all just a little too perfect.
you and jay were both at the office, the hum of workday chatter filling the background. jay sat beside you at the office like he belonged there. he was on his break, lazily fiddling with a rubik’s cube, his brow furrowed as if it took real concentration, but you could feel his eyes darting to you every few seconds. that signature smirk lingered on his lips, like he had something else on his mind.
“you ever solve one of these?” jay asked, twisting the cube with a sharp click.
you laughed softly, shaking your head. “nope, never had the patience.”
just as you were about to send off an email, your phone buzzed against the desk. you glanced down at the screen.
jake: hey y/n, we’re taking jungwon out for drinks tonight!
your eyebrows shot up. jungwon? drinks? that wasn’t something that happened often. you tapped a quick reply, but the thought lingered, pulling at your attention.
he wasn’t exactly the most social guy, especially when it came to drinking. curiosity piqued, you quickly typed back a response.
“what’s up?” jay asked, his voice cutting through your thoughts. his eyes tracked your every move, fingers still idly playing with the cube.
“just jake,” you said, leaning back in your chair, tapping the phone lightly against your thigh. “they’re taking jungwon out for drinks tonight. guess he’s warming up to being social.”
jay smirked, tossing the rubik’s cube onto the desk and crossing his arms. “he’s been pretty chill lately, especially with me. didn’t think that’d happen.”
“me neither,” you admitted, your gaze shifting fully to jay. “he’s always been kinda... closed off, but now it’s like he’s finally enjoying being around people. especially you.”
jay shrugged, though you could see the flicker of pride in his eyes. “guess i’m just that irresistible, huh?”
you rolled your eyes, but smiled all the same. “yeah, sure, that must be it.” you leaned in closer, dropping your voice. “but seriously, it’s nice seeing him open up. he’s been through a lot, and seeing him happy... well, it makes me happy.”
the conversation lulled for a moment, the office noise fading into the background. jay’s fingers drummed softly on the desk, and you could feel him thinking, like there was something on his mind he hadn’t said yet.
“speaking of happy...” jay started, his voice quieter, more thoughtful now. “this might be... really bad timing, but i’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
you raised an eyebrow, intrigued but slightly cautious. “oh? what’s up?”
he hesitated for a beat, his eyes locking with yours. gone was the teasing smirk, replaced with something more sincere, something that had your pulse picking up speed.
“i was wondering...” jay leaned in just a little, the space between you two feeling more intimate, more personal. “would you wanna go out with me tonight? like... on a real date?”
your heart did a quick somersault. jay had always been playful, teasing, but this? this was different. this was real—just him, asking you out with none of the usual jokes to hide behind.
“an actual date?” you echoed, your voice soft as a smile began tugging at your lips.
jay nodded, his fingers now absentmindedly tracing the edge of the desk, like he needed something to focus on besides your reaction. “yeah. i mean, we’ve hung out a lot, but i want to take you out properly. no more just hanging out at your place.”
warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body as nerves fluttered in your stomach. jay had always made you feel comfortable, always been someone who could make you laugh, but now he was offering something more. something you hadn’t even realized you’d been waiting for.
“i’d like that,” you said softly, your smile growing wider. “yeah, i’d really like that.”
jay’s entire expression lit up, the tension in his shoulders melting away as relief washed over him. “really?”
“really,” you confirmed, feeling the flutter of anticipation start to build inside you.
he let out a breath, grinning wide as he leaned back, his confidence slipping back into place. “all right, guess i’ll have to plan something good then.”
you laughed, shaking your head. “no pressure or anything.”
“trust me,” jay chuckled, though the warmth in his eyes now had your pulse racing even faster. “i’ve got it covered.”
the office seemed to fade away as you both sat there, the moment stretching between you, feeling just right. like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.
“tonight, then,” jay said, his eyes never leaving yours.
“tonight,” you echoed, feeling the weight of the promise in your own voice.
jay stood up, stretching a little before throwing you a glance over his shoulder. “oh, and wear my favorite,” he added, his tone dropping a little, laced with something more suggestive.
you blinked, your smile faltering for just a second. “your favorite?”
jay smirked, leaning closer, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “baby blue.”
the memory of the set he was referring to flashed in your mind—the one you’d worn in a photo that had gotten a reaction out of him before. your cheeks flushed, the air between you two thickening with the weight of suggestion. “oh, that set.”
“yeah... that one.” his fingers brushed against your arm, just barely grazing your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake before he turned, heading back to his desk.
the light touch, the way his voice had dropped—it left you breathless, heart pounding against your chest. anticipation simmered under your skin, and you couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face as you stared at your computer screen, already counting down the hours until tonight.
the apartment was buzzing with the usual pre-party energy when you got home, the low hum of excitement filtering through the walls. jungwon was already half-dressed, moving through the space like he had all the time in the world, while you rushed, desperately trying to get ready in time for your date with jay.
“ugh, i’m running so late,” you muttered, throwing a glance at the mirror, your nerves on full display. nothing felt right, nothing was working, and time was running out.
jungwon paused, leaning against his doorframe with that familiar smirk playing on his lips. “nervous for the big date?” his tone dripped with amusement, eyes trailing lazily over your frazzled state.
“yeah,” you muttered, rifling through your drawer with a touch of panic. “jay’s picking me up soon, and i need to look perfect.”
jungwon’s eyes flickered to the bed, where you’d laid out your baby blue lingerie—the set you knew jay liked. the comment came before he could stop himself. “nice choice.”
his voice sounded casual, but you didn’t catch the way his eyes darkened as he stared at the delicate fabric.
you barely glanced up, focused on finding the right shoes. “yeah, jay loves this one. figured it’d be a nice surprise.”
jungwon’s jaw clenched. jay’s favorite? something ugly coiled in his chest, why the hell should jay get that?
he felt his phone buzz in his pocket—jake, impatient as ever, reminding him to hurry up. jungwon's gaze lingered on the lingerie for another moment, and then, he made his move.
while you were still distracted, jungwon slipped into your room, pretending to grab his jacket. with one swift motion, he swiped the baby blue panties from the bed and stuffed them into his pocket. his heart pounded, but outwardly he remained calm, collected.
“you seen my—” you turned, catching jungwon mid-movement as he pulled on his jacket, already halfway to the door.
“oh, you’re leaving already?” you asked, still half-focused on getting yourself together.
“yeah, jake’s blowing up my phone,” jungwon said, flashing you a quick, cool smile, his hand pressing the stolen lace deeper into his pocket. “good luck with your date. i’m sure jay’ll love that surprise.”
“thanks,” you mumbled absentmindedly, not even looking up as you fumbled with your outfit. "have fun with the guys."
as soon as jungwon was gone, you turned back to the bed, reaching for the lingerie. but something was wrong. the panties were missing.
"what the hell...?" you muttered, confused, rifling through the covers and around the room. i just put them here. you tore through your drawers, irritation bubbling up as your search turned up nothing.
“ugh, whatever,” you muttered under your breath, deciding on the black lace set instead. the clock was ticking, and the last thing you needed was to be late. jay won’t mind, you told yourself, trying to push aside the frustration, but a nagging feeling of something missing lingered.
jungwon, on the other hand, was already out the door, heading to meet jake and sunghoon, the baby blue panties securely tucked into his jacket pocket.
that small act gave him a twisted sense of control, a flicker of satisfaction, but beneath it all, a cold wave of futility crept in. what the fuck is this even for? he wondered, but couldn’t stop himself.
it wouldn’t change a damn thing between you and jay. stealing your lingerie, messing with your plans—none of it would stop the fact that you’d be with him tonight. yet, knowing you wouldn’t be wearing that special set for jay, his favorite set, felt like a small, fucked-up victory.
as the elevator doors slid shut, jungwon caught a glimpse of his reflection. what the hell am i doing? he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, but the question didn’t matter anymore. you’re not wearing that for jay, and that was enough to ease the coil of frustration in his chest.
sliding into the backseat of jake’s car, jungwon’s mood clashed against the upbeat energy of the others. jake and sunghoon were hyped, laughing, planning out their night, but jungwon barely heard them.
his fingers drifted to the pocket where the soft lace sat, his mind replaying the moment he’d swiped them from your bed, the way you’d been too distracted to notice.
his hand moved absentmindedly, tracing the delicate fabric as jake’s voice rambled on about which club to hit first. you’ll never even suspect me, he thought, a smug satisfaction settling in. there was no way you’d ever connect jungwon to your missing panties. that innocent, oblivious part of you wouldn’t even consider it.
he leaned back in his seat, letting the rush of adrenaline mix with the twisted satisfaction that came from knowing you’d be out with jay tonight—wearing something else. completely unaware of what was missing.
and in that moment, despite everything, jungwon felt like he was winning.
jungwon slouched back in the booth, the relentless thrum of the club’s bass pounding through his chest. lights flickered, neon blues and purples flashing across the crowded dance floor, but it all blurred together into a scene he couldn’t care less about.
the chatter, the laughter, the sweaty bodies swaying to the beat—it was suffocating, only reminding him of everything he didn’t want to think about.
he didn’t want to be here. hell, he didn’t want to be anywhere. but jake and sunghoon had dragged him out, practically forcing him to "get out of his head." now, here he was, at some fancy table heeseung had hooked them up with, surrounded by people celebrating god knows what.
“lighten up, man.” jake nudged him, grinning as he took another swig from his beer. “heeseung pulled some strings for this, we should be having fun.”
“yeah,” sunghoon leaned back, tossing a casual smirk his way. “it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do.”
jungwon barely managed a tight smile, they meant well, but it didn’t change the fact that he felt like he was suffocating. sitting here, pretending to enjoy himself, it was like the weight of everything was pressing harder on his chest.
sure, it was better than being back at the flat, buried in your bed, breathing in the faint scent of your perfume from the pillow you’d left behind. a little less pathetic, maybe. but being here wasn’t much better. because here, he couldn’t escape the thoughts, the images playing over and over in his mind.
you with jay.
“you good?” jake asked, his voice cutting through jungwon’s thoughts. his brow furrowed as he glanced over, clearly picking up on the tension rolling off him. “you’ve been weird all night.”
jungwon’s response was quick, sharper than he meant it to be. “i’m fine.”
he exhaled, trying to push down the frustration that threatened to spill over. no, i’m not fucking fine.
sunghoon raised a brow, exchanging a glance with jake. “dude, you always say that. you’ve been holed up in your room for days. what’s gives?”
jungwon didn’t answer. how could he explain it? how could he tell them that every time you walked out that door, it felt like a piece of him left with you?
every time you left, he’d retreat to your room, curling up in your bed, clinging to whatever was left of you. burying his face in your clothes, pretending, even for just a few moments, that you were still there. it was fucked up. he knew that. but it was the only way to deal with the rage.
this night was supposed to be an escape. a distraction from the thoughts that tortured him, from the idea of you with him. but all it did was amplify it. with every drink, every laugh, every passing moment, he could feel the jealousy tightening around his throat like a noose. because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop seeing it—you and jay.
your laughter, your smile, the way you’d look at jay like he was your whole world. the way jungwon wished, more than anything, you’d look at him.
he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the pounding bass of the club could drown out the thoughts, the sickening ache in his chest. but it didn’t. he hated it. hated that no matter where he was, no matter what he did, it was always you. always jay. and it was destroying him from the inside out.
jungwon watched as jake and sunghoon disappeared onto the dance floor, their laughter swallowed by the thumping bass and flashing lights. he was left alone, gripping his drink tightly, the alcohol buzzed through his veins, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the ache burning in his chest.
he missed you. god, he missed you so much it fucking hurt.
his fingers slipped into his jacket pocket, brushing against the soft lace of your stolen panties, the secret that no one else knew about. but even that, even taking something so personal from you, felt useless.
he missed the way you used to burst into his room unannounced, complaining about your day or teasing him for never leaving the apartment. he missed the way you leaned against him when you were too tired to hold your head up but refused to leave. now, everything felt distant, cold. and this drink? it was doing fuck all to help.
and then, he saw you.
jungwon’s heart leapt into his throat, his pulse racing as his eyes locked on you, stepping into the club like you owned the room. for a split second, hope flared, blinding and irrational. maybe you’d come looking for him, maybe you missed him too. his lips twitched, the beginning of a smile breaking free.
but then he saw him. jay.
that flicker of hope was crushed under the weight of reality. jay, walking in behind you, his hand resting at the small of your back like he fucking owned you. like you were his.
something twisted deep in jungwon’s gut, the jealousy simmering hotter now, searing through him. his hand clenched around the glass, the edges pressing into his palm as he watched jay guide you through the crowd, his touch too casual, too possessive.
it was like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of him. his mind screamed, desperate to believe this wasn’t happening, that you hadn’t already slipped away from him. but watching jay pull you closer, seeing how easily you leaned into him, jungwon knew. jay was winning.
jungwon drained his drink, the alcohol burning down his throat, but it did nothing to numb the burn in his chest. seeing you like this—in that fucking dress, looking so perfect it made him want to tear something apart—it was unbearable. he wondered if you were wearing the black or white lingerie he knew you loved. or maybe something else. maybe something jay had picked out for you.
his jaw tightened as he kept his eyes on you, unwilling to look away. he stayed rooted to the spot, slipping into the shadows where he could watch without being seen. from there, he could see everything—every touch, every smile, every laugh you gave to jay like it was his right.
from a distance, it was easier to let the jealousy fester, to let it simmer and burn without having to fake a smile, without pretending everything was okay. his smirk returned, dark and twisted, as he watched jay pull you closer, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. you were his now, weren’t you? the thought twisted deeper, like a knife in his chest.
jungwon leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving you, waiting for something—anything—to break. he let the jealousy, the rage, boil inside him, his fingers tracing over the lace hidden in his pocket, the one thing he had taken from you, something only he knew about.
he glanced at jake and sunghoon, who were lost somewhere in the back, wrapped around a couple of girls, laughing and whispering in their ears like they had no worries in the world. good. let them leave. he didn’t need their company tonight. tonight was about you.
his eyes snapped back to you, and the sight made his stomach churn. you were laughing, leaning into jay, your hand resting on his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
he fucking hated jay. he wanted to hate jay. he wanted to find something, anything, that would make him feel justified for the burning jealousy tearing him apart. but he couldn’t. no matter how hard he tried, jay was… perfect. and worst of all? jay made you happy.
that’s what killed him the most.
because no matter how much he wanted you, no matter how much he needed you, jungwon knew deep down he would never be the one to make you happy like that. he’d never make you smile like jay did, never make you laugh like that, never be enough. and it fucking destroyed him.
he leaned back into the shadows, eyes fixed on you, watching, waiting, stewing in his jealousy, his rage, his desperation.
he would never let you go.
jungwon had called it. barely a few minutes after he slipped into the shadows, jake and sunghoon came stumbling back over to where he’d been sitting, girls hanging off their arms, wide smiles and flushed cheeks.
they didn’t even have to say anything—the looks on their faces said it all. jake raised an eyebrow, smirking, while sunghoon winked, sealing the unspoken deal. they were about to make their exit.
jungwon’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he didn’t even need to look, already knowing what it would say. sure enough, there were texts from both of them.
jake: bro, we’re heading out, see you later?
sunghoon: you good? catch you tomorrow.
a bitter chuckle slipped out before he could stop it. he quickly typed out a reply, already drained by their carefree energy.
jungwon: already left. have fun.
from his hidden spot, he watched as jake and sunghoon exchanged glances, glancing around like they might actually give a shit about where he was before shrugging it off. they disappeared into the crowd with their arms slung around the girls, laughing like they had the night in the palm of their hands.
good riddance. now he didn’t have to fake a damn thing. no more keeping up appearances, no more pretending. now he could stay hidden, drown in cheap liquor, and watch the night unfold the way he knew it would.
“hey, handsome.”
the voice was low, sultry, but it grated against jungwon’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. he barely noticed her at first, until she was right up against him, pressing her body close, her fingers trailing lightly across his chest.
he glanced down at her with cold, empty eyes. the dim lighting of the club cast shadows across her face, but even in the dark, he could see the desperation gleaming in her eyes, the too-eager smile playing on her lips. she had been watching him all night, and now, she finally thought she had her chance.
without a word, jungwon reached up and gently pushed her hand away, his fingers curling around her wrist for just a second before letting go.
“don’t.” his voice was flat, emotionless, his gaze already drifting back to where you were standing with jay.
but the girl didn’t take the hint. she leaned in closer, her breath hot against his neck. “come on, don’t be like that. you look like you could use some company.”
his jaw clenched, the retort he wanted to spit out getting stuck in his throat. he took a step back, creating some distance, but she followed him, her hands reaching for him again like she hadn’t just been told off.
“i said don’t,” he snapped this time, his voice sharp, cold. jungwon’s patience was already wearing thin.
“what’s your problem?” she pouted, her fingers still brushing against his chest, her body pressing even closer. “you’re just sitting here all alone. let me make you feel better.”
jungwon’s eyes flicked back to her, darkening. “you reek,” he said bluntly, his tone icy.
the girl blinked, caught off guard. “uh, excuse me?”
“if you keep touching me, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”
she laughed nervously, her confidence cracking as uncertainty flickered in her eyes. “wow, okay. someone’s got issues.”
jungwon leaned in, his face inches from hers, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “are you my stepsister?”
her expression twisted in confusion, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “uh, what? no, what does that even—"
jungwon’s lips curled into a cruel smirk, the intensity of his gaze making her instinctively step back. “nothing. but next time you push yourself on someone, maybe think twice.”
she stared at him, her bravado crumbling under the weight of his words. her face twisted in disgust as she backed off, muttering, “you’re fucking weird,” before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
he didn’t watch her leave. didn’t care. his focus was already elsewhere. he knocked back another shot, the alcohol scorching down his throat, his eyes locked on you again.
later that night, jay picked you up, looking effortlessly perfect in his usual style—black jeans, a fitted shirt that hugged his body in all the right places, and that smug grin that never seemed to leave his face. you’d dressed for the occasion, slipping into a sleek, curve-hugging dress that made you feel confident, sexy, a little daring.
as the two of you made your way to the club he’d picked for the evening, you chuckled under your breath, taking in the neon lights and feeling the thrumming bass vibrating beneath your feet.
“really? a club?” you teased, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. “what kind of gentleman brings a woman to a club on their first date?”
jay smirked, his hand casually sliding to the small of your back, guiding you inside. “a gentleman who knows how jealous you got every time our colleagues went clubbing while we were stuck at work.”
your eyebrow shot up, surprised he’d picked up on that. “i didn’t think you paid attention.”
jay leaned in close, his voice dropping just low enough to make your skin tingle. “trust me, y/n, i notice everything about you.”
his words sent a rush through you, a blush creeping up your neck as you smiled and shook your head, trying to play it cool. despite the loud music and the bustling crowd, something about this felt perfect.
you nudged him playfully. “okay, maybe you do have some charm after all.”
jay grinned wider, pulling you closer as the two of you moved through the dimly lit space. “some charm? come on, i’ve got plenty.”
you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the pull of his energy. he led you to a table near the edge of the dance floor, the music loud enough to shake your bones, but instead of overwhelming you, it seemed to ground you. jay sat close, his hand resting possessively on your thigh under the table, sending little sparks of excitement through your body.
“so, what do you think?” jay leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “better than the office, right?”
you laughed, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. “okay, fine, you win. better than the office. but only because you knew i was jealous.”
jay’s grin widened, and for a second, his eyes darkened with something deeper. “hey, just trying to keep my girl happy,” he said smoothly, the words slipping out so easily they made your heart skip a beat. before you could overthink it, he was pulling you to your feet, leading you toward the dance floor.
“come on, let’s dance,” he urged, tugging you into the crowd.
the two of you fell into a rhythm easily, your bodies moving together in sync with the pulsing music. the tension between you grew with every beat, every movement, jay’s hands firm on your hips, pulling you against him. the heat of his body mixed with the electric energy of the club, making it impossible to think of anything else.
as the lights flickered and danced across the walls, jay pressed closer, his hands sliding lower, his touch lingering in a way that made it clear you were his tonight. and god, you loved it—loved the way he made you feel alive, reckless, like nothing else mattered but the two of you.
the alcohol was hitting now, loosening your inhibitions, making everything a little hazier, a little more intense. you laughed more, leaned into jay’s touch more, feeling lighter, freer. the air between you was thick with something more than just fun, and jay’s breath against your neck as he moved with you only made it harder to ignore the tension building between you.
“you good?” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear, his hands roaming dangerously low.
“better than good,” you grinned, your voice playful but laced with desire. “you?”
jay chuckled, his hips pressing harder into yours. “i think you know the answer to that.”
the night became a blur of dancing, shots, laughter, and more teasing touches. at some point, as you ground your hips back against jay, you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your lower back. the heat pooled in your stomach, and without thinking, you threw a playful glance over your shoulder.
“oops,” you said with a smirk, teasing him.
jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “oops?” he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “that’s all you’ve got to say?”
you bit your lip, still moving against him, testing how far you could push. “what? i thought you were supposed to be a gentleman?”
jay groaned softly, his hands tightening on your hips. “gentleman or not, you keep grinding on me like that,” he murmured into your ear, his voice dark and rough, “and i might forget all my manners.”
your heart raced, loving the way you were pushing him. “oh really?” you whispered, turning just enough for your lips to brush against his cheek. “so, what are you gonna do about it?”
his eyes darkened further, and all the teasing vanished from his expression. his hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer, his body flush against yours. “you sure you wanna test me, y/n?” his voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that made your pulse quicken.
you swallowed hard, but you couldn’t resist pushing him further. “i dunno,” you whispered, still teasing. “i kinda like seeing you like this.”
jay’s chuckle was dark, low in his throat. “you think you’re cute, don’t you?” he muttered, pressing harder against you. “grinding on me, saying ‘oops’ like it’s nothing.”
your pulse quickened, your body reacting to every word, every touch. “maybe,” you breathed. “maybe i thought you could handle it.”
his lips grazed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “i can handle it,” he murmured, “but can you?”
you turned in his arms, your bodies still swaying to the music, faces inches apart. his eyes were dark with desire, the teasing grin gone. “so much for being a gentleman,” you whispered.
jay smirked, pulling you tighter. “even a gentleman has his limits, y/n.”
the heat between you both was almost unbearable now, the tension so thick it was suffocating. you leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “by the way... i didn’t end up wearing your favorite tonight.”
jay raised an eyebrow, his voice low and rough as he pressed his hips harder into yours. “oh yeah?” he murmured, “good thing i’m gonna be ripping them off anyway.”
his words sent a thrill down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours, hot and desperate. the kiss was messy, consuming, tongues tangling as you both finally gave in to the tension that had been building all night. your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, your body arching into his as he groaned into your mouth.
but as you got lost in jay’s touch, you were completely unaware of the dark eyes watching you from the shadows. jungwon sat back, his drink forgotten, his vision narrowing until all he could see was you and jay—your hands all over each other, your lips locked in a kiss that made his blood boil.
he felt nothing but pure, unfiltered rage.
you pulled away from jay, breathless, your lips swollen from the kiss. “we should get out of here,” jay whispered, his voice rough with need.
“yeah, let’s go back to mine,” you agreed, running a hand through your hair, still catching your breath.
jungwon’s world spun. he couldn’t hear the words, but he saw it all—the way your body language shifted, the way you and jay talked, like you were about to leave. like you were going home together.
his stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. you were about to leave with jay. you were going to go home with him.
jungwon shoved through the crowd, his mind racing. he couldn’t let this happen. he had to get home first, had to do something before you and jay got there. before something happened that he couldn’t stop.
his hands clenched into fists as he stormed toward the exit.
jungwon barely made it. he’d fucking sprinted the whole way, the flat wasn’t far from the club, but every second felt like it stretched into an eternity. his chest was tight, lungs burning as he raced, a sickening mix of desperation and fury pushing him harder.
he knew you too well—knew you wouldn’t bother going far. not when you looked like you were ready to be fucked the moment you left that dance floor. the thought twisted his gut, but it also fueled him. he had to move faster. had to stop it.
he burst into the flat, his breath ragged, each step slamming against the floor, reverberating through the walls. there was no fucking time. he stormed straight to his room, the door slamming so hard behind him it rattled the frame. his mind raced, pulse thundering in his ears, each thought more fucked up than the last. every step forward felt like he was spiraling deeper into madness, but he didn’t care.
he stumbled over to his desk, fingers trembling, yanking the drawer open so hard it nearly came off the tracks. inside, neatly tucked away, was the fully charged battery he always kept on standby. his hands shook as he grabbed it, almost dropping it in his frantic state. no time to waste. he bolted down the hall, his feet barely hitting the floor, his heart slamming against his ribcage.
your room. he shoved the door open, eyes wild as he stormed inside. everything felt too slow, too fucking slow. he tore the old battery out of the hidden camera lodged in the eye of the teddy bear on your dresser. his hands fumbled, slipping as nerves made him clumsy, cursing under his breath.
“fuck, come on,” he hissed, voice low, barely containing the panic that was surging up his throat.
finally, the new battery clicked into place, and the camera blinked to life, the red light staring back at him. jungwon stood there for a moment, frozen, staring at the tiny lens. his breath was shallow, chest heaving. his entire body felt like it was on the verge of breaking apart.
soon, too soon, you and jay would walk through that door. and he’d have to watch it. all of it.
the thought sent a wave of nausea crashing over him, and for a second, he thought he might actually be sick. but he swallowed it down, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, and stormed back to his room. the door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the flat like a gunshot, but he didn’t give a fuck.
he dropped into his chair, fingers trembling as he flipped open his laptop. the screen flickered to life, casting a harsh glow across his face. he waited, breath caught in his throat, until the live feed blinked onto the screen—your bedroom, empty, waiting for what would happen next.
but it wasn’t enough. not for this. his mind was racing too fast, spinning out of control. he knew you wouldn’t just stay in the bedroom, not with jay. you’d move, probably to the kitchen, the couch—wherever things got heated next.
he couldn’t fucking risk it.
jungwon shot up from his chair, grabbing another small camera he had stashed away for emergencies. this was it. this was the emergency. sprinting down the hall, he made his way to the kitchen, eyes scanning the room for the perfect spot.
his gaze landed on a shelf near the counter, cluttered with just enough shit to hide the camera. he positioned it meticulously, adjusting it until it captured everything—the counter, the table, the couch, all of it.
he stood back, staring at the tiny lens nestled among the clutter, knowing it would record every fucking thing that happened tonight.
jungwon rushed back to his room, his body vibrating with adrenaline. he slammed himself down in front of the laptop, hands shaking as he switched the live feed back on. the screen split into two—your bedroom, the kitchen. every angle covered. he could see it all now.
his breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as the weight of what he’d done settled over him like a heavy fog. his pulse thundered in his ears, his heart hammering against his ribs.
all that was left to do was wait. wait for you and jay to walk through that door. and then watch. watch it all unfold, every fucked up second of it.
he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream, break something, or just let the rage consume him entirely.
but he would wait. and he would fucking watch.
you and jay stumbled down the street, the night air biting at your skin, but you barely noticed it—too caught up in the alcohol buzz and the warmth of jay pressed up against you. his arm was draped lazily over your shoulders, fingers teasing the back of your neck as he whispered something in your ear, something filthy that made you laugh too loud, breathless.
the world around you blurred, nothing mattered except him—his scent, the way his fingers lingered a little too long at the small of your back, sending heat rushing through you. you were both drunk, careless, and the electricity between you crackled like it was ready to explode.
before you knew it, the flat loomed in front of you, your feet carrying you faster than your mind could keep up. the walk was too quick, too easy, like you both knew exactly where this was headed. lights off, no one home, the night was yours. and his.
no need for keys, no time for second thoughts. the door clicked shut behind you, and before you could even blink, jay was on you, hands everywhere, lips crashing into yours with a hunger that knocked the air out of your lungs. your back slammed against the wall, and you gasped, not from pain but from the sheer intensity of it all.
“fuck,” jay muttered into your mouth, his hands already gripping your waist, dragging you against him like he’d been holding back all night. “been waiting for this.”
you let out a breathy laugh, tipping your head back to give him better access to your neck, his lips quick to find the sensitive skin there. “could tell,” you teased, tugging at his shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric. “impatient, aren’t you?”
his teeth grazed your neck, and you moaned, barely able to form coherent thoughts as his hands wandered lower, rough, desperate. “can you blame me?” his voice was low, thick with desire, breath hot against your skin. “i know you want it just as bad.”
you let out a shaky laugh, your chest heaving as his fingers trailed dangerously close to the hem of your dress. “confident, aren’t you?”
jay grinned against your skin, his hands sliding up your thighs, gripping them tight enough to leave marks. “i’d call it certainty,” he breathed into your ear, teeth grazing the shell of it. “i know exactly what you want.”
your heart pounded in your chest, the heat between you two thickening, suffocating. you turned, eyes locking with his, daring him, testing him. “prove it.”
he didn’t need to be told twice. his lips slammed back against yours, slower now, but deeper, as if he was trying to drown you in the kiss. his teeth tugged at your lower lip before pulling back, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his hands roamed lower. with one sharp motion, he grabbed the fabric of your dress and ripped it, the sound echoing in the dark hallway.
“jay!” you gasped, half-shocked, half-amused as you looked down at the ruined dress. “i liked that dress.”
he smirked, unbothered, lips grazing yours again, his hands rough against your bare skin. “i’ll buy you a new one,” he muttered, eyes dark with lust, his fingers already sliding under the waistband of your panties.
you were breathless, heat pooling low in your belly as his hands wandered further, fingers ghosting over the spot that had you aching for him. “reckless bastard,” you muttered, but the thrill was unmistakable in your voice.
his lips found your neck again, sucking hard enough to bruise, and you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, urging him on. the world outside of this moment didn’t exist, not the flat, not the night, not the possibility of anyone walking in. it was just you and him, and the growing tension between you that felt like it was about to snap.
just as you were ready to lose yourself completely in him, jay pulled back, breath ragged, eyes dark. “wait… jungwon,” he muttered, voice thick with desire. “think he’s home?”
the mention of your stepbrother brought reality crashing down, if only for a second. you blinked, your pulse still racing, body still pressed tight against jay’s. jungwon. he was supposed to be out with jake and sunghoon, but…
“i don’t think so,” you mumbled, uncertainty creeping into your voice. “he’s out with the guys, but…”
jay’s hands tightened on your waist, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “then who gives a shit?” his voice was low, teasing. “even if he is home, we’ll just be quiet.” he smirked, leaning in closer, lips brushing your ear. “unless you want him to hear.”
your breath hitched, the idea sending a shiver down your spine. the thought of jungwon walking in, seeing you like this, made you tense—but it also sent a thrill through you, something dark, something exciting. you bit your lip, glancing at jay. “he’d understand… right?”
jay grinned, pulling you closer, his lips ghosting over yours. “trust me,” he whispered, voice low, filled with promise. “he won’t care. and if he does… we’ll just have to be quieter, won't we?”
"take it off already," you demanded, pushing the thought of jungwon away, voice thick with desire as your fingers played at the hem of jay’s shirt. jay gave you that cocky grin, effortlessly peeling it off, exposing the hard lines of his bare chest to your touch.
his skin was warm under your fingertips, and jay's grin only widened as he watched you take him in. your hands roamed over his chest, lingering, exploring, before trailing lower.
"impatient tonight, aren’t we?" jay teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours.
"maybe," you shot back, playful, eyes daring him. "or maybe you're just taking too long."
jay chuckled, his lips finally pressing against yours, hard and hungry. his hands slid over your body, pulling you closer, making you arch into him as he deepened the kiss.
the way he touched you, like he couldn’t get enough, sent a heat through your veins, every brush of his fingers leaving you wanting more.
his lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. you moaned softly, fingers digging into his shoulders as he worked his way lower, his hands moving over every curve, every dip, like he was claiming you for himself.
"you’re not comfortable, are you?" jay’s voice was a low, teasing murmur against your skin as his fingers traced the edges of your dress.
you let out a breathy laugh, your fingers trailing across his chest. "i’ll manage. not like you’re giving me much of a chance to complain, are you?"
jay smirked, lips brushing yours again, this time rougher, more impatient. "guess i’m not," he murmured, teeth grazing your lips as he pulled you closer. "but if you wanted to switch it up, i wouldn’t mind."
his hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against him. "is that right?" you teased, pushing back slightly, enjoying the way his body tensed under your touch. "and where do you want me, then?"
jay’s voice dropped, thick with want, his eyes dark with lust as he stared at you. "anywhere i can fuck you properly."
your lips curved into a smile as you tugged at his waistband. "then maybe you should hurry up and get those off, too, hmm?"
jay stepped back just enough to undo his belt, the sound of it hitting the floor echoing through the room. you leaned back against the counter, watching him with a playful smirk, the tension between you building with every second.
as his pants hit the floor, jay paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, that wicked grin still tugging at the corners of his lips.
"let’s go to my room," you whispered, pulling him toward you as you slipped off the counter. jay’s eyes flickered with hunger, his hands never leaving your body as you led him down the hallway, the heat between you nearly unbearable as you disappeared into the dark.
in the dim glow of his room, jungwon’s jaw tightened. jay's smug voice grated against his ears. "smug fucking bastard," he snarled, teeth grinding, voice low and dripping with venom. he couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn’t stop himself from watching even though it was killing him inside.
every move jay made felt like a taunt, a mockery of everything jungwon had ever wanted. the sight of jay’s hands on you—touching, claiming—was like acid burning through his veins.
“you think you’re better than me? fuck you.” he hissed, his voice barely a whisper but sharp enough to cut. his heart hammered against his ribs, chest tight with the fury that bubbled up with every second.
jay stripping you of the dress? that was his touch you should be feeling, his lips you should be kissing, not jay's. "you think you can just walk in and take her?"
his vision blurred with white-hot anger, teeth sinking into his lip until he tasted blood. watching jay move, touch, and claim—jungwon's body trembled with how badly he wanted to tear it all apart. it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
his breath hitched as jay’s hands traveled lower, his body pressed against yours like he owned you. he fucking doesn’t. jungwon’s mind raced, his thoughts spiraling into an obsession he couldn’t control. i should be the one touching her. i should be the one kissing her like that.
he couldn’t stop replaying it over and over—picturing himself in jay’s place, imagining how you would react to him instead. it should’ve been him pulling you close, feeling your body beneath his hands, hearing you whisper his name, not fucking jay.
"i’ll make him pay," jungwon growled, voice hoarse with suppressed rage. his fingers twitched, itching to smash something, anything to stop this scene from unfolding in front of him.
every breath jay took next to you felt like an insult, like he was stealing something that belonged to jungwon, ripping it right out of his hands.
“fucking... asshole,” jungwon spat, chest rising and falling heavily, eyes fixed on jay’s stupid grin as he undid his belt. jungwon’s breath came faster, fury boiling over at how casual, how easy jay made it seem. like you were nothing more than something to pass the time with. he doesn’t deserve you. he’ll never fucking deserve you.
when you tugged jay toward your room, jungwon’s breath hitched again, the room spinning around him. his room. his space. he was the one who should be walking down that hallway with you, not jay. he should be the one hearing your laugh, feeling your fingers pulling him close.
as jay disappeared with you down the hall, jungwon leaned back, cracking his knuckles one by one, eyes never leaving the screen. this isn’t over. not by a long shot.
his vision blurred, eyes burning with the sting of unshed tears, but the anger—the fucking anger—that was stronger than anything else. jungwon leaned back, cracking his neck, a twisted smile forming on his lips. just wait.
he would wait, watch, and when the time came, he’d destroy everything. everything jay thought he had. everything.
you don’t even know what she needs. you’ll never be enough for her, he thought viciously, his mind racing with the sickening idea of tearing it all down. every bit of jay’s hold over you, he would destroy it. piece by piece.
with one last look at the screen, jungwon’s hand reached for the mouse. the live feed flickered, showing your room, the kitchen, all the places you and jay might go. all the places jungwon would be waiting.
as you opened the door to your room, jay was on you before you even had the chance to take a step inside. his hands gripped your waist with that urgency you knew so well, lifting you like you weighed nothing and tossing you onto the bed with a cocky smirk that made your heart race.
you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, your body sinking into the soft sheets, but it didn’t last long. jay was already between your legs, grabbing your ankle, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed until your thighs dangled off. his eyes were dark, hungry, like he couldn’t wait another second.
your ripped dress barely hung on your body, teasing him with flashes of skin, and his fingers brushed the hem, slowly pushing it up as his gaze followed. he was taking his time, but you could see it in his eyes—he wanted to devour you.
“you’re driving me fucking insane,” he muttered, his voice rough as his lips ghosted over your inner thigh. the heat between your legs was unbearable now, and the way his breath brushed your skin made you squirm.
impatient, you slipped your panties off and tossed them aside, your body trembling with need. jay’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips curling into a wicked grin.
“oh? i was planning to rip those off myself.” he raised an eyebrow, teasing you.
you giggled breathlessly. “good thing i didn’t wear the baby blue ones, huh?”
his chuckle was low, filled with mischief. “oh, i wouldn’t have dared... but these? yeah, they had to go.” his fingers traced your wet folds, teasing just enough to make your breath hitch, and you could feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach.
“you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” his voice was rough, full of desire as his fingers slid inside you, slow, deliberate, making you gasp. “like your pussy hasn’t been fucked in forever.”
the heat of his words sent a wave of pleasure through you, your back arching as his thumb found your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make you tremble.
“fuck,” you whimpered, gripping the sheets beneath you, your body practically melting under his touch.
“that’s it,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers working you over. “i’m gonna make up for all that lost time.”
you moaned, unable to form a coherent response as his fingers curled inside you, each stroke pulling you deeper into a haze of pleasure. every movement, every touch had you unraveling, breathless and trembling.
“i thought you were a gentleman,” you managed to say, your voice barely more than a sigh, pleasure clouding your thoughts.
jay’s grin against your skin sent shivers down your spine. “who said i’m not?” his fingers continued their relentless rhythm. “maybe i’m just giving you exactly what you’ve wanted this whole time.”
he leaned back slightly, his hands trailing up to your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples as he watched you squirm beneath him. “fuck, you’re so pretty,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.
before you could respond, his mouth was on your nipple, his tongue flicking over it, and you gasped, your back arching into him. the heat between you both was unbearable now, the thin fabric of his boxers doing little to hide just how hard he was.
your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer, your body aching for more. “move up,” you breathed, your hands tugging at his shoulders, needing him closer, needing more of him.
jay groaned low in his throat, lifting himself just enough to adjust, sliding up over your body until he was fully on the bed, his weight pressing down on you in a way that made your whole body hum with anticipation. his lips found your neck, kissing, biting, sending sparks of pleasure through you.
“better?” his voice was rough, strained with desire as he settled between your thighs again.
“so much better,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back, urging him closer, needing him more than ever.
jungwon sat at his desk, elbows digging into the wood, fingers gripping his hair so tightly it felt like he might rip it out. his bloodshot eyes were locked onto the screen, the harsh light of his laptop casting deep shadows across his tired, hollow face. no matter how much his eyes burned, how dry his throat felt from panting, he couldn’t look away.
his breath came in ragged gasps, mouth slightly open as he stared, feeling like the ground beneath him was crumbling. this couldn’t be real. it felt like a nightmare, one he couldn’t wake up from, watching jay touch you like that—watching you give in so easily, moaning under him, arching into his touch like you couldn’t get enough.
“fuck,” jungwon whispered, voice shaky, his fists clenching tighter in his hair, trying to ground himself in the pain. maybe if he pulled hard enough, he’d snap out of this. maybe if he hurt enough, it’d drown out the scene playing in front of him.
but nothing worked. his body betrayed him. despite the anger boiling in his chest, he could feel himself hardening, his breath becoming more erratic as jay’s lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking, teasing, while you whimpered beneath him. jungwon’s vision blurred with rage, but there was something else too—something sick. something he couldn’t stop.
“sucking on your tits like that...” jungwon muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low, venomous, watching jay's hands grip your waist, watching how easily you surrendered to him. it twisted jungwon’s stomach, made him feel disgusted with himself, but still—he kept watching.
he always watched.
he’d watched you before—seen you with other guys through teddy’s eyes. it killed him every time, watching you with someone else, but this? this was different. jay was different.
jungwon had never let himself go this far before, never crossed that line. never touched himself while watching. there had always been that line, the one he swore he’d never cross, no matter how much it hurt.
but this time, his hand hovered closer, trembling. jay was different.
he hated it. hated how fucking good jay was. he could see it—could fucking feel it—how much more desperate you were, how much more you needed jay. jungwon’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. you were never like this with anyone else.
“you’ve never fucking been like this before,” jungwon growled, fists shaking, eyes burning into the screen as your fingers tangled in jay’s hair, pulling him closer, your moans louder, more frantic. it was unbearable. you were never this desperate with anyone else. never this needy.
the realization hit him like a punch to the gut: jay might even be better than him.
something inside him snapped. the line he’d drawn for himself—the line that kept him from fully diving into this twisted, fucked-up obsession—blurred, then shattered completely. his hand shook as it moved toward his pants, his body acting on its own. there was no going back now.
fuck it.
“no, no, no,” he hissed, frustration tearing through him, raw and suffocating. “why can’t you see? why the fuck can’t it be me?”
the overwhelming urge to destroy something—anything—burned in his chest. he wanted to reach through the screen, rip jay away from you, stop this entire scene, but instead, his shaky hands fumbled for something else. your panties. fresh from the wash, but it didn’t matter. they were yours. they were enough.
he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply, desperate for any trace of you, needing the connection, no matter how fucked up it was. his teeth bit down on the fabric, muffling the growl building in his chest, eyes glued to the screen, watching you, watching jay, feeling his whole body tremble with want, jealousy, and pure need.
his hand moved lower, gripping his cock for the first time, unable to stop himself, unable to tear his gaze away from the scene unfolding before him. this should be me. why isn’t it me?
"i’m just letting him borrow you," he whispered, breath ragged, hand moving desperately now as his eyes stayed fixed on you. "you’re mine."
"i'll make fucking sure of it," he gasped, his voice trembling, eyes rolling back as he struggled to keep watching. you were flipping jay over so easily, like you had all the control. like you were playing a game.
“been wanting to suck your cock for the longest time now…” your voice, low and teasing, drifted through the speakers, and it sent him spiraling. his hand moved faster, strangled moans tearing from his throat as he watched you lower yourself between jay’s legs, that cheeky grin lighting up your face like you were enjoying every second of it. fuck.
"shit," jungwon groaned, his breath shaky, watching as you took jay into your mouth, the obscene wet sounds filling the room, driving him closer to madness.
“you should be doing that to me,” jungwon whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper, barely able to breathe. that should be him there, not fucking jay. the sight of you on your knees, lips wrapped around jay’s cock, burned into his mind, making his hand move faster, more frantic.
“i’m the one who’s been waiting… not him,” he spat, pressing your panties harder against his cock, the fabric rubbing against him, heightening the sensation until he could barely think straight.
jay’s groans filled the room, his hand cupping your cheek as you teased the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around him slowly, making him tremble. jay’s breath hitched, voice thick with lust.
“shit… just suck me off,” jay’s voice was raw, impatience laced with desire. “or i swear, i’ll fuck you right now.”
jungwon’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he watched you hold all the power over jay, completely in control. you had him wrapped around your finger.
you smirked, dragging your tongue along the length of jay’s cock, savoring how his hips jerked forward, desperate for more, desperate for you.
“y/n,” jay growled, voice heavy with need. “don’t make me wait.”
and you didn’t. with that sly smile still on your face, you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, your hands gripping his thighs, steadying yourself as you worked him.
“oh, fuck,” jay muttered, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, thrusting deeper. “shit, is this okay?” his voice was strained, trembling. “want to fuck your mouth, baby, will you let me?”
the low moan you gave around his cock made jay groan, his hips bucking into your mouth, his control slipping, each thrust more eager, more desperate. he wasn’t waiting anymore—he was fucking your mouth now, deeper, harder with each motion.
jungwon’s breath hitched, his strokes becoming frantic as he watched jay’s cock moving deeper into your throat, every sound, every moan, every whimper pushing him closer to the edge. he wasn’t going to last. not like this. not watching you like this.
he’s completely lost in it now, hands gripping your head firmly as he thrusts into your throat, groaning with every deep stroke, the sound of your muffled squeals driving him wild.
“that’s it,” jay gasps, voice shaky, breath coming fast as he watches you struggle to take him, your lips stretched tight around his cock, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes. the wet, obscene sounds between you both fill the room, slick and needy, making him moan in satisfaction.
"you sound so pretty like this," jay rasps, his hand tightening in your hair, controlling your movements as he thrusts deeper. “look at you, taking my cock so well… you love it, don’t you? love how filthy this is?”
you try to nod, eyes rolling back as you gag slightly, the raw need in his voice only turning you on more. jay leans back, biting his lip, clearly getting off on the sight of you choking on him, watching as your throat struggles to handle his size.
“you’re a fucking dream, baby,” he mutters, voice rough with lust. “you gonna let me keep fucking that pretty mouth? yeah?”
he doesn’t wait for an answer. his hips move faster, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with each thrust, more desperate, more intense with every second. you grip the sides of his thighs, nails digging into his skin as you feel him pulse in your mouth, his cock swelling as he nears the edge.
but just when you think he’s about to finish, jay abruptly pulls you off him. you cough, gasping for air, eyes tear-stained, cheeks flushed, and saliva trailing from your lips down to his cock. you barely have a moment to catch your breath before jay growls.
“come here,” he demands, voice thick with urgency as he pulls you into his lap, positioning you to straddle him, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips.
the second your bodies connect, his mouth crashes against yours, kissing you hard, teeth scraping against your lips as his hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he can’t get enough of you.
before you know it, he’s flipping you onto your back, his body hovering over you, hands roaming your skin, rough and needy. his cock presses against your entrance, teasing you as he drags the tip through your slick folds, just brushing against your core but refusing to give you what you’re aching for.
“beg,” jay growls, his lips brushing your ear, breath hot against your skin as he holds himself right there, torturing you with the anticipation. “i wanna hear you beg for it.”
your body arches toward him, the heat between your legs unbearable as your voice trembles, “please, jay… fuck me.”
his smirk deepens, fingers digging into your waist as he pushes in just enough to make you feel the stretch but not enough to satisfy. “not good enough,” he murmurs, voice teasing as he hovers on the edge. “tell me how bad you want it.”
you whimper, nails biting into his shoulders as you gasp, “please, i need you… i need you to fuck me open, jay… i want it so bad.”
he groans, the sound guttural as he slides just the tip of his cock inside, your soaked pussy immediately clenching around him.
“shit,” jay mutters, inching his way in slowly, eyes locked on yours as he watches your face twist in pleasure. “didn’t think you’d be this tight, baby. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”
your breath is shaky, jaw slack as he stretches you inch by inch. it’s almost too much, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as you struggle to adjust to his size.
“jay,” you whimper, your body tensing as he bottoms out, his cock buried deep inside you. the intensity makes you yelp, your body instinctively trying to pull away.
he grips your hips tighter, holding you in place, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “where do you think you’re going?” he taunts. “thought you wanted this. wanted me to fuck you like this. you’re not running now.”
“wait,” you manage to smile through the haze, breath uneven as you try to adjust to the stretch. “you’re… big.”
jay’s grin widens, eyes glinting with pride. “you can take it,” he growls, rolling his hips slowly, teasing you with the slightest movements. “look at your pussy getting all stretched out for me.”
your body responds immediately, legs trembling as he starts moving again, setting a rhythm that has you gasping for air, toes curling with every thrust. jay bites his lower lip, watching you struggle to take him, the sight of you barely holding on only spurring him on.
he can’t help himself.
“harder?” jay chuckled, teasing, as he leaned back and adjusted his grip on the back of your thighs, spreading your legs wider. his weight pressed down on you, pinning you to the bed, completely at his mercy.
your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, anything to steady yourself as the shift in position made you feel every inch of him more intensely. each deep thrust sent shockwaves through your body, forcing you to arch up, gasping for air.
jay looked down at you, eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight—you, wrecked beneath him, panting, completely undone. he loved it. loved the way you looked like this, completely under him. now, with your legs spread even wider, he could feel so much more of you, every inch of your slick pussy gripping him tighter.
“fuck... you feel that?” jay stuttered, his voice thick with pleasure as his pace quickened, hips slamming into you harder. “i can feel every part of you like this... shit, you’re taking me so fucking deep.”
your moans were ragged, desperate, each one louder than the last as the pleasure crashed over you, your body arching off the bed with every powerful thrust. “jay... oh my god…”
he smirked, watching you struggle beneath him, gripping your thighs tighter, spreading you open even more. “that’s right, baby,” he growled, his voice rough. “you’re gonna take it all... every inch of me.”
you could only whimper, his pace brutal, relentless, driving you closer and closer to the edge. each thrust had you quivering, spiraling beneath him as he pounded into you, taking you apart with each stroke.
“you love this, don’t you?” jay breathed, eyes burning with lust as he watched your body react to every movement. “you love being fucked like this…”
you managed a weak nod, your voice barely a whisper through the overwhelming pleasure. “yes... fuck, jay... i love it…”
jungwon’s grip tightened around his cock, jerking himself off even though his stomach and thighs were already a sticky mess of cum. your panties, soaked and sticky with his release, dragged over his shaft, the fabric clinging to him as he pumped faster, his hand shaking.
“fuck…” he hissed, barely able to get the word out, teeth clenched as he watched jay slam into you, each thrust harder, deeper. every sound you made almost tore him apart, his body jerking like he could feel it, like he was the one fucking you.
"look at you... getting fucked dumb on his cock," jungwon’s voice cracked, bitter and desperate, a twisted mix of jealousy and arousal tearing through him.
his strokes turned frantic, jerking himself harder, faster, like if he could go hard enough, fast enough, he could make it real—make it him instead of jay. his stomach clenched, head thrown back, legs trembling as he imagined it was him inside you.
“you’d feel so much better with me,” he growled under his breath, his hand moving faster, frustration boiling over. “i’d fuck you better than him,” jungwon choked out, barely more than a growl. his cock throbbed in his hand as he imagined you screaming his name, wanting him the way you wanted jay. “you’d fucking see…”
your moans, the way you shook, the way you screamed—jungwon was losing it. he wanted that. needed that. his body tensed as another orgasm ripped through him, spilling over the already soaked panties.
jay was relentless, slamming into you so hard you could barely breathe, your entire body trembling, feeling light-headed with pleasure as you teetered on the edge of release.
jungwon could see it, could feel it in his bones. his breath hitched as he watched, hating the sight of jay inside you, filling you when it should’ve been him.
“shit, your pussy’s too good,” jay grunted, his voice strained as he thrust into you harder. suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you gasping, your body aching for more, already too wound up.
“not yet,” jay whispered against your lips, teasing you with the faintest brush of his mouth before pulling back. his hand tapped your thigh, commanding you to move.
before you could even think, jay flipped you onto your stomach, positioning you like you were nothing more than a toy to him. his hands gripped your hips tight, lifting you the way he liked, preparing to take you all over again.
out of nowhere, jay’s hand cracked down on your ass, the sharp slap echoing through the room. you yelped, the sting rippling into a wave of pleasure that lit your body on fire. “fuck,” you whimpered, biting your lip, wanting more.
“you like that?” jay’s voice was rough, dripping with lust as he knelt behind you, his hands kneading your ass before delivering another sharp smack. “look at you, already missing my cock.”
your moans were muffled by the pillow, your body trembling as your hips pushed back, desperate for him to fill you again. he lined up, teasing your entrance, barely brushing against you, making you squirm. “jay, please,” you begged, voice breathless, needy.
he chuckled low, letting the head of his cock tease you, dragging it along your slick folds, enough to make you squirm but never giving you what you needed. “tell me how much you want it,” he growled, his lips ghosting over your ear, his voice filled with desire.
“put it back in,” you whined, pressing back against him, trying to take him in yourself. but jay only smirked, pulling away just enough to enjoy your frustration.
his chest pressed against your back, his cock dragging torturously over your slick folds, teasing you without mercy. his breath was hot on your neck as he whispered, “you want it that bad?”
you bit your lip, holding back, but when he nudged just the tip inside and pulled out again, your body jolted, your pride cracking.
“jay, please,” you murmured, voice trembling with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable.
his dark chuckle brushed against your skin, his lips grazing your neck. “c’mon, y/n… say it,” he teased, giving you another shallow thrust, pulling back just as quickly. “you know you want it.”
your nails dug into the sheets, frustration building as your control slipped. “i want it, please,” you gasped, breath shaky. “fuck my pussy... give it to me.”
his grin widened against your skin, and he pulled back just enough to line himself up, lips close to your ear. “then take it,” he growled, slamming into you hard and deep in one brutal thrust, making you scream into the pillow.
“oh god—jay,” you cried, voice muffled, body shaking beneath him as his teeth sank into your shoulder, the sharp pain mixing with overwhelming pleasure.
“fuck,” jay groaned, his breath ragged against your skin. “wanted to take you out on a proper date, but you had to grind on me at the club.”
his voice was low, growling between each brutal thrust, the slap of skin filling the room, drowning out your desperate moans as your body quivered beneath his weight.
“couldn’t help it,” you choked out, voice breaking between gasps. “you looked so fucking good.”
jay’s grip on your waist tightened, his pace relentless, fucking you harder, making you scream as waves of pleasure rolled through you. “goddamn, y/n… you’re driving me fucking insane.”
“i finally…” you panted, voice barely coherent, “broke you, didn’t i? you fuck like an animal.”
jay growled low, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “maybe you did,” he muttered, voice raw with need. “look what you fucking do to me.”
his words sent a shiver down your spine, pushing you closer to the edge as his thrusts became more desperate, more intense.
“you wanted this,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck, his chest heavy on your back. “you wanted me like this, didn’t you?”
you tried to hold back the moans, but he was so deep inside you, every thrust pushing you closer to the brink. “yes,” you gasped, nails clawing at the sheets. “yes, jay, don’t stop—keep fucking me.”
his grunts grew louder, his pace brutal as he chased his release, lips brushing yours in a messy, heated kiss.
his hips stuttered, rhythm faltering as he reached his limit, overwhelmed by how much you wanted him, how you took everything he gave like you were made for him. “fuck, i’m so close,” he groaned, voice strained. “gonna pull out, baby.”
but you shook your head, legs wrapping tighter around him. “no,” you whispered, breathless but firm. “just—give it to me. i want all of it.”
jay’s breath hitched, body trembling as he tried to hold on. “fuck, you're serious?” he rasped, control slipping. you nodded, licking your lips, urging him to let go, needing him to finish inside you.
your nails dug deeper into the sheets, your body trembling as you gasped, “don’t pull out… cum in my pussy… fill me up.”
his grip tightened, his voice wrecked. “you’ll make me get you pregnant, baby,” he groaned, eyes dark with lust, staring down at you. “god, you’re fucking killing me.”
you nodded, desperate, voice barely audible. “i… i’ll take care of it,” you moaned, meeting his thrusts. “just- please, inside me. you’re fucking me so good, want it—”
“oh fuck, y/n,” jay growled, pushing in deep as his body shook, coming hard inside you, filling you with everything he had.
“take it,” jay grunted, his voice raw, body jerking against you one last time as the heat flooded you. even as he finished, you kept grinding against him, milking every drop from him.
his body trembled, his moans turning helpless as he collapsed on top of you, completely spent.
“shit… stop moving, baby,” jay gasped, but even as the words left his mouth, his body couldn’t stay still, still trembling as he held you tighter, keeping himself buried deep inside you.
his breath was hot against your neck, heart pounding hard enough that you could feel it against your back. soft kisses trailed along your shoulder, his lips warm, gentle, as his body slowly came down from the high.
“i’m sensitive,” jay muttered, his voice low and intimate, a softness creeping into the words as he shifted, turning both of you so you were curled into him, still connected. his cock twitched inside you, the aftershocks of his release sending shivers through his body.
he held you close, arms tight around your waist, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin as the two of you lay there in silence. “i’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice a quiet promise.
you shifted slightly, wincing at the overstimulation, making jay groan. “ugh, that was so fucking good,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest.
“don’t move,” he groaned, tightening his grip on you, his arms possessive. “don’t wanna pull out yet.”
you stayed tangled together, limbs entwined, the warmth of post-orgasm settling into your bones. the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of your breathing, occasionally broken by soft laughs as you both tried to process what had just happened.
jay shifted beside you, still warm, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. his fingers brushed lightly over your waist, and you felt your eyelids growing heavier, the peaceful haze of sleep starting to take over.
“mm, y/n?” his voice was soft, thick with sleep as he nuzzled into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.
“yeah?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse. “you okay?”
“just couldn’t get comfortable for a second,” he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “sorry, you can go back to sleep, baby.”
the word “baby” made you smile, but you were too exhausted to tease him for it. his affection was clear, and it warmed you from the inside out. but as your mind began to wander, a nagging thought crept in—jungwon.
you hadn’t heard from him since last night, and a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder where he was, if he was okay. you tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, pulling you out of the comfortable haze.
“what time is it?” you asked softly, not really expecting an answer, just needing a distraction.
“still early,” jay murmured, pressing his lips against your neck again. “don’t worry about it.”
you tried to relax, to let his warmth lull you back to sleep, but your mind kept circling back to jungwon. “did jungwon ever get home?” you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it.
jay shifted beside you, his arm tightening around your waist slightly. “jungwon?” he muttered, still drowsy. “i dunno… didn’t hear him come in.”
you bit your lip, unease gnawing at you. jungwon had gone out with jake and sunghoon, and usually, he would at least text if he wasn’t coming back. but your phone was somewhere on the floor, and jay had you wrapped so tightly you couldn’t reach it. still, something didn’t feel right.
“he’ll be fine, y/n,” jay murmured, sensing your tension even half-asleep. his voice was soothing, but it didn’t fully ease the anxious twist in your stomach.
“yeah, you’re probably right,” you whispered, though the unease remained. you snuggled back against him, trying to let the comfort of his presence calm you, but your mind kept wandering back to jungwon.
jay shifted again, and this time his voice was softer, more hesitant. “y/n?” he began quietly, his breath brushing against your neck. “would you be mad if i told you i like you so fucking much?”
his words snapped you out of your thoughts, your heart skipping a beat. “mad?” you turned slightly to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “why would i be mad?”
he sighed, rubbing gentle circles on your side as he met your eyes. “i dunno. maybe ‘cause i’m saying it now... after we just, you know, had sex for the first time.” he chuckled awkwardly. “kinda feels like i should’ve said it before all of this.”
you couldn’t help but laugh softly at his honesty, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest. “you did call me your girl earlier, remember?” you teased, easing the tension with a playful smile.
he grinned, rolling his eyes. “yeah, real smooth, huh?”
“so smooth,” you laughed quietly, shaking your head as the weight of the moment lifted between you.
he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his voice softer now. “but seriously... i like you. a lot. more than i thought i would.”
his confession made your chest warm, and your heart beat a little faster. “i like you too, jay,” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin. “and no, i’m not mad.”
relief washed over his face, and his smile widened as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “good. ‘cause i really don’t wanna fuck this up.”
“you’re not,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him gently, reassuring him. for now, in this moment, everything between the two of you felt right—even if your mind kept drifting back to jungwon.
jay sighed, content, pulling you even closer, his body relaxing against yours. but as sleep started to creep back in, that small thought of jungwon lingered in the background, refusing to let go.
jungwon slumped back in his chair, chest heaving, body drenched in sweat, his skin clammy with the aftermath of how far he'd let himself go. his heart pounded violently, each beat a reminder of the sick desperation that gripped him tighter with every passing second. no matter how many times he came tonight, it wasn’t enough. it never was.
the screen had gone black minutes ago, but the sounds—the haunting echoes of your moans and jay’s grunts—played relentlessly in his mind. it felt like they were carved into his skull, on repeat, taunting him, reminding him of every moment he wasn’t there, every time jay had what he craved most.
jungwon dragged a trembling hand through his hair, the strands sticking to his damp forehead, his eyes burning with unshed tears. his other hand still clutched your lingerie, the delicate lace now crumpled and soaked with his own cum. disgust surged through him as he stared at the fabric. it felt like a mockery of the connection he so desperately longed for. he let it fall from his fingers, the soft thud of it hitting the keyboard echoing like a final defeat.
but the disgust didn’t make the ache in his chest any less real. it clawed at him, gnawing at his insides, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. how long was he going to do this to himself? how long would he have to watch you give everything to jay?
his teeth sank into his lip, hard enough to draw blood, the sharp taste grounding him for just a second before the agony crashed back in, stronger than ever. it wasn’t about the release—never was. the way you begged jay to fuck you harder, to cum inside you—it was a knife twisted in jungwon’s gut, over and over.
“fuck…” his voice shook, barely more than a whisper. he hated himself for how much he wanted to blame you. but he couldn’t. he could never hate you, even as every part of him shattered under the weight of it all.
his body trembled, weak from the overstimulation, but his mind was a storm—each thought darker, more desperate. he pushed himself up from the chair, legs barely supporting him as he stumbled toward the bed, collapsing onto it face-first, still half-naked, pants bunched around his thighs. his cock twitched against the sheets, oversensitive and raw, but the pleasure had turned into something hollow, something meaningless.
the silence of the room pressed in on him, thick and suffocating. jungwon hugged his pillow tightly, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, exhaustion clinging to him, but sleep felt impossibly far. his mind wouldn’t stop racing.
how could he ruin this? how could he tear jay down, rip him apart, make sure he could never have you again? thoughts of revenge spiraled in his head, each one darker, more vicious than the last, but nothing felt like enough. nothing matched the depth of the emptiness he felt.
he needed to break jay. he needed to make jay feel the same crushing agony that had consumed him for weeks. the same jealousy, the same suffocating helplessness. he needed to make jay feel what it was like to lose everything.
with a sharp breath, jungwon slammed his fist into his chest, the impact sending a shock of pain through his ribs, but it did nothing to drown out the ache inside him. if anything, the hollow feeling only grew, spreading through his veins like poison. it wasn’t enough.
“fuck!” jungwon gasped, his voice cracking, raw and broken as he punched his chest again, harder this time. his knuckles throbbed from the force, but the pain was futile—useless against the tidal wave of emotion threatening to drown him.
tears welled in his eyes, hot and unrelenting. his hands shook as he gripped his hair, pulling hard, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but it was useless. the dam broke, and a harsh, guttural sob tore from his throat. one after the other, the sobs came, his entire body shaking with the force of them.
“no… no…” he whimpered between gasping breaths, the tears streaming down his face, soaking into the pillow beneath him. he had never felt so broken, so pathetic. the sobs wouldn’t stop, his entire body convulsing with each ragged cry, years of frustration, jealousy, and desperation bubbling to the surface all at once.
“it’s not fair,” jungwon whimpered, his voice barely audible, choking on the words as they left his lips. “it’s not fucking fair.”
“why?” he cried out, voice shattering in the darkness, trembling and fragile.
he buried his face deeper into the pillow, trying to muffle the broken sobs that tore from him, but nothing could stop the flood of agony ripping him apart. the pain grew, gnawing at him, spreading through his chest like wildfire, consuming him completely.
“i love you,” jungwon whispered, the words trembling, broken, and so full of hurt. “fuck, i love you so much.”
but his words fell flat, lost in the empty silence of his room. they hung in the air, unanswered, just like every other desperate plea he’d made. he sobbed harder, the tears coming slower now, but no less painful, each one a bitter reminder that nothing had changed. nothing would change.
he lay there for what felt like hours, broken, sobbing into the darkness, waiting for the pain to subside. but it didn’t. it lingered, sharp and unyielding, an open wound that wouldn’t heal. deep down, he knew it never would. he would never escape this.
days passed, and jungwon became nothing more than a ghost in the apartment, slipping through the cracks, disappearing into the shadows like he was made of them. you never saw him during the day, only heard the faintest shuffle of footsteps late at night, long after you’d gone to bed, when he knew you wouldn’t be around to see him. at first, you thought he wasn’t coming home at all.
no signs, no sounds. it was like he’d vanished. but then, in the dead of night, there it was—the creak of a door, the quiet rustle of sheets, the almost imperceptible presence of him trying to remain unseen. he was avoiding you, and you had no idea why.
it took you days to work up the courage to knock on his door. you didn’t know what you were expecting, but the silence that greeted you after your hesitant knock made the knot in your chest tighten.
“jungwon? you there?” your voice was barely a whisper, pressed against the door like you were afraid of what you might hear. there was no response. just more suffocating silence. you were about to give up, about to turn away, when you heard it—the faintest rustle of movement, sheets shifting, the sound of someone deliberately staying quiet.
he was there. he didn’t want to face you.
"hey… you’ve been in there for days... are you okay?" you tried again, the ache in your chest making your voice softer, more desperate. nothing. no answer. the silence dragged on, the weight of it pressing down on you until you couldn’t take it anymore. eventually, you walked away, the heavy thud of your footsteps echoing through the empty hallway.
the few times you did catch a glimpse of him, it was like seeing a ghost. jungwon would slip past you in the hallway, his head down, shoulders slumped, moving so quickly it was like he couldn’t get away fast enough. he wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t even acknowledge your presence, like you weren’t there.
his face… god, his face. gaunt, hollowed out, dark circles carved beneath his eyes so deep it looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. his lips, pale and cracked, barely held together, and his clothes hung loosely on him, like he’d stopped caring about everything—including himself. the jungwon you knew was gone, replaced by this hollow shell, this shadow of a person who had locked himself away so deep inside that you didn’t know how to find him anymore.
and then there was that night.
you’d woken up thirsty, stumbling into the kitchen for a glass of water, when you found him sitting at the counter. jungwon was just sitting there, staring blankly at the floor, an untouched plate of food in front of him, cold and forgotten. he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge you when you entered. his stillness was unnerving, like he was frozen in place, trapped in a moment he couldn’t escape from.
“jungwon?” you whispered, your voice trembling with concern, hoping, praying he’d respond this time. but he didn’t. he didn’t look up, didn’t flinch. he just sat there, hollow and vacant, like a ghost haunting the room, as if your presence meant nothing to him.
and then, just as slowly as he’d appeared, he stood, his movements stiff and robotic, walking past you as if you weren’t even there. like you didn’t exist.
for a fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of his face—the emptiness in his eyes, the haunted look that twisted your gut with worry. it was like staring into a void, like jungwon wasn’t really there at all anymore. whatever was happening inside him, it was consuming him from the inside out, pulling him further and further away from you, into a darkness you couldn’t reach.
something was horribly wrong, and no matter how hard you tried to reach him, to break through that impenetrable wall he’d built around himself, jungwon was slipping further and further away, disappearing into a place where you couldn’t follow.
you found yourself standing in front of jungwon’s door again, hand hovering over the wood, your heart pounding in your chest. this wasn’t the first time, but it felt heavier now, like there was more on the line. you hesitated, teeth sinking into your lip, before finally knocking.
just like every other time, there was nothing but silence. the faint hum of the apartment’s air filled the space around you, but from behind that door, it was as if nothing existed. no movement. no sound. no acknowledgment of you.
the tightness in your chest grew, a knot of anxiety settling deep inside. you missed him. the silence, the way he was avoiding you—everything about it felt wrong, like something crucial had been ripped away.
you stood there, staring at the door, chewing your lip, debating whether to walk away again, or push through the painful awkwardness. you couldn’t just leave things like this. not with him.
“jungwon,” you said softly, your voice barely a whisper, fragile in the quiet hallway. “i’m... i’m worried about you. i don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve been so distant, and it’s not like you. can you please talk to me?”
nothing.
the silence on the other side of the door pressed down on you, suffocating. you leaned your forehead against the wood, trying to hold back the swell of frustration and sadness building inside. why wouldn’t he just talk to you? what had changed between you two? you’d always been close, always had that connection. but now? it was like you were invisible.
you exhaled shakily, deciding to try a different approach. "i’m going to tell you about my day, okay?" your voice was lighter, like you were forcing a smile even though he couldn’t see it. “i know you probably don’t care right now, but maybe if you hear me out, you’ll feel like talking to me. or at least... listen.”
you leaned your body against the door, as if you could get closer to him through it.
“i went to work, and it was... fine, i guess. lisa kept annoying me with her gossip, you know how she is. she tried to drag me out for drinks after, but i wasn’t feeling it.” you let out a small laugh, trying to inject some normalcy into the air, like it would remind him of what used to be easy between you two. “i know how much you hate hearing about her, but i don’t have anyone else to vent to right now, so... sorry, you’re stuck with this.”
still, silence.
the ache in your chest deepened, but you kept going. “jay’s been away on a business trip. he left a few days ago... and i don’t know, it’s been harder than i thought. him being gone, and now you avoiding me... it’s making everything worse.” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded, but you couldn’t help it.
it was the truth. you felt so alone without jungwon and jay. you always leaned on him when things got hard, but now even he was gone, unreachable.
“i miss you,” you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper, your hand pressing flat against the door, wishing you could feel him on the other side. "i miss how we used to talk, how we’d hang out. i don’t know what happened between us, but... it’s killing me that you’re avoiding me. i just... i need my brother back."
you waited, heart hammering, hoping for anything—a sound, a word, something to let you know he was still there. but there was nothing. the silence was thick and unrelenting, swallowing you whole.
your throat tightened, the feeling of helplessness wrapping itself around you. you took a deep breath, giving the door one last soft tap. "i’ll leave you alone now, but... please, jungwon. just talk to me. whenever you’re ready."
you turned away, your heart heavy, each step feeling like you were sinking further into a pit. the quiet in the hallway was suffocating, and the weight of jungwon’s absence pressed down harder on you with every second that passed. you missed him, more than you could put into words. the distance between you felt impossible to bridge, and no matter how hard you tried, it only seemed to grow wider.
"can you at least try to answer my texts?" you called out, voice softer now, almost pleading, desperation leaking through. you stopped in the middle of the hall, waiting, waiting for something, anything. but the silence stretched on, and the gnawing ache in your chest worsened.
nothing.
not a single sound came from his room. it was like he wasn’t even there anymore.
you swallowed hard, fighting the lump in your throat, your heart sinking lower with each second that passed without a response. the frustration, the sadness, the helplessness—it weighed on you like a stone, heavy and crushing. you didn’t know how to reach him anymore. you didn’t know how to bring him back.
“please, jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more to yourself than to him now. you stood there, rooted to the spot, waiting, hoping, wishing for something, anything. but all you got was the same oppressive silence that had surrounded you for days.
finally, with a deep sigh, you turned away, that familiar ache settling deeper in your chest, like a hole that couldn’t be filled. each step down the hall felt heavier than the last, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t.
you wanted him back. you wanted your brother back. but he was slipping further away, and you didn’t know how to stop it.
you sat curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, scrolling through your messages with jay. the conversation had started light, but as the texts went on, you could feel the emptiness creeping in, the sharp realization of how much you missed him gnawing at you.
you: hey... i miss you. feels kinda empty here without you
jay: i miss you too, baby. just a few more days and i'll be back before you know it
you: ugh, this business trip sucks. feels like forever
jay: trust me, i’m counting down the days too
you: you better make it up to me when you get back ;)
you bit your lip, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you imagined him reading that message. there was a small pause before his reply came in.
jay: oh, i will. got something special planned for you. promise.
you: now i’m curious...
jay: you’ll have to wait and see ;) but don’t worry. it’ll be worth it.
you could practically hear the smirk in his words, and the thought made your chest flutter. as much as you hated being apart, jay always knew how to ease the ache, even if it was just through a few flirty texts.
you: wish you were here though... feels off without you around
jay: same here. but i’ll be back soon. promise.
you: ugh, you’re so positive lol. i wish i had that right now
jay: gotta keep the vibes up, babe. we’ll be fine, just a little longer.
you: okay, fine... but i still hate it lol
jay: you’ll survive. i’ll make it up to you, remember?
you: you better...
the conversation made you smile, but the silence around you felt heavier than before. it lingered, pressing down as you stared at the screen, waiting for another response. then:
jay: i’ve got meetings for the next few hours, so i won’t be reachable, okay?
you: yeah, okay. good luck, don’t work too hard
jay: i’ll try. talk soon, love you.
you: love you too.
you sighed, putting your phone down, staring at the empty room. jay was right—you’d see him soon—but that didn’t stop the ache. the apartment felt hollow without him, and worse, jungwon was barely speaking to you.
what if jungwon was still acting distant when jay came back? maybe jay could help. maybe he’d get jungwon to open up. but for now, you were left alone in the quiet.
you chewed on your nail absentmindedly, eyes flicking to the screen, but the movie playing was just background noise, something to fill the silence. after a few moments, you reached for your phone again, scrolling through the unanswered texts you’d sent to jungwon. the long thread of messages, one after another, stared back at you, and each unread line made your heart sink further.
you: hey, you haven’t left your room in days?
you: seriously, jungwon, what’s going on?
you: are you mad at me? i just want to talk.
you: please answer me.
not a single response.
you frowned, the tightness in your chest growing, frustration mixing with the sadness that had been building for days. why wouldn’t he just talk to you? part of you wanted to give him space, let him come to you when he was ready, but the longer he stayed away, the more it hurt.
with a deep sigh, you opened up another message.
you: look, i don’t know what’s going on, but i hate this distance between us. if you need space, fine, but at least let me know you’re okay.
you hesitated, staring at the screen, your thumb hovering over the send button. would he even read this? you hit send anyway, the weight of the unsaid words pressing on your chest. after a moment, you typed one last message.
you: if you want to talk or just hang out... my door’s open. come to my room if you feel like it.
you set your phone down, the silence of the apartment swallowing you whole. without the distraction of the TV, the quiet was deafening, making the emptiness feel so much more real. you glanced at your phone one last time, hoping—wishing—for a reply, but there was nothing. not even a sign that he’d read your messages.
with a soft sigh, you turned off the TV and made your way to your room. the bed creaked softly as you dropped onto it, pulling the blankets around you. your phone lay on the nightstand, screen dark and still, the silence hanging heavy around you.
you left the door cracked open, just in case.
the apartment was too still, and jungwon’s absence weighed on you like a physical thing. you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, eyes heavy with exhaustion, but sleep didn’t come easily. it was a restless kind of feeling, the kind that left you half-awake, waiting for something that might never come.
and then, the bed dipped.
you jolted awake, heart slamming against your ribcage, the remnants of sleep still clouding your vision. you blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light, and there he was—jungwon. sitting at the edge of your bed, his back turned to you, his posture rigid.
“jesus, you fucking scared me,” you muttered, trying to steady the pounding in your chest.
he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge your words. just sat there, like a statue, head bowed, shoulders tense. something was off—really off—and the heavy silence that hung between you only made it worse. you noticed the door was closed. when had that happened? the stillness of the room felt suffocating now, like the air itself was thick with everything left unsaid.
hesitant, you reached out, placing a hand gently on his back. the moment your palm touched him, you felt him flinch, his body reacting to the contact like it was a jolt of electricity. but he didn’t pull away. he stayed there, frozen, his breath catching in his throat before it escaped in a deep, shaky exhale.
“please,” you whispered, voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the tension in the room, “don’t shut me out. i miss you.”
the words seemed to snap something inside him. jungwon turned his head sharply, eyes wide, and for the first time in a long while, you could see everything—all of it. the raw, unfiltered emotion that he’d been hiding. his eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and though he blinked quickly, trying to hold them back, it was too late. you’d seen the truth. you could feel the hurt radiating from him, almost palpable.
“you… miss me?” his voice cracked, disbelief laced in every syllable, as if the very idea of you missing him was foreign, impossible. there was something raw, almost desperate, flickering in his gaze, something that made your heart clench painfully in your chest.
you nodded, your throat tightening, the emotions between you thickening. how had you not noticed? how had you let it get this bad?
“wow…” jungwon muttered, running a trembling hand through his hair, visibly trying to keep himself from falling apart. but it was clear he was on the edge, barely holding on. his emotions swirled around him, chaotic and heavy, and you could feel the weight of it pressing on you too.
“you just say that, and suddenly… i want to be okay again.” his voice wavered, a bitter laugh bubbling up from deep within him. “isn’t that pathetic?” the laugh was sharp, almost cutting, but beneath it was something so much more fragile, something that hurt to hear.
“what are you talking about?” you whispered, your heart breaking for him in ways you couldn’t quite grasp. his words, his tone—they didn’t match the jungwon you knew. this wasn’t the boy you’d grown up with, the boy who had always been so full of quiet strength. this was someone drowning, lost in emotions that were too big for him to carry alone.
without a second thought, you moved closer, your hands gently tugging him toward you. “come here,” you said softly, your voice both an invitation and a plea. you guided him away from the edge, pulling him into you. and this time, he didn’t resist.
he let you pull him close, his head resting against your shoulder, his body curling into yours like it had so many times when you were kids, like he was searching for that comfort, that familiarity.
your heart swelled, a bittersweet warmth spreading through your chest as you held him. you remembered the times you’d fall asleep together, mid-movie, or after long days spent together.
but this... this was different. his breathing was shaky, his body trembling slightly against yours, and you could feel the storm of emotions inside him.
and yet, something else lingered, something that made the air around you feel thicker, heavier.
“but you’ll hate me,” he whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. his voice was so vulnerable, trembling with fear, with something you couldn’t quite place.
“hate you?” you echoed, your fingers brushing through his hair gently as you tried to soothe him, tried to understand. “why would i ever hate you?”
he didn’t answer right away. his face was still pressed against your chest, but you could feel the shift in him, the tension building. when he finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes were filled with an intensity that made your breath catch.
tears clung to his lashes, but there was something more, something darker in his gaze.
his eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long. your heart stuttered in your chest, a sense of unease washing over you. the closeness between you suddenly felt different, charged in a way that made your stomach twist.
“jungwon?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath, the question heavy in the air between you. but before you could process the meaning behind his gaze, before you could move or speak again, his grip on your shirt tightened, pulling you even closer.
his face was inches from yours now, and then, suddenly, his lips were on yours—soft, shaky, unsure, but insistent. it wasn’t what you expected. it wasn’t what you wanted. but it was happening.
your heart pounded in your chest, panic rising as the kiss fully registered. you pulled away quickly, your breath coming in shallow gasps, hands pushing against him. "what are you doing? stop—no, we can’t!" your voice trembled, desperate to make sense of the overwhelming rush of emotions.
but jungwon didn’t stop. his eyes, wide and filled with something raw and unrecognizable, bore into yours. there was a desperation in them, something pleading, frantic. “please, y/n, just listen—” he leaned in again, his voice almost breaking.
“no!” you cried, pressing harder against his chest, trying to create space between you. your hands shook as you tried to shove him back, your mind screaming at you that this wasn’t right. “this isn’t right, jungwon! we can’t—”
“but you kissed me back,” he interrupted, his voice cracking as he held your gaze, the hurt in his eyes twisting painfully in your chest. “i know you felt it too. you didn’t pull away right away. you liked it, didn’t you?”
his words hit you like a punch, leaving you reeling, the confusion swirling inside you tightening like a knot. “no, i didn’t—” you stammered, shaking your head, trying to shake off the weight of his accusation. how did this even happen?
“please,” he whispered, his voice breaking, and before you could react, he leaned in again, his desperation bleeding into every movement. his lips crashed against yours with a force that left you breathless, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth with an intensity that made your head spin.
you struggled, hands pushing at him, but his strength overpowered yours. the more you resisted, the harder he pressed, the kiss turning more frantic, more overwhelming. you told yourself to push him away, to stop this before it went any further, but your body… your body wasn’t listening. it froze, paralyzed in the whirlwind of emotions crashing over you.
the heat of his touch, the urgency of his kiss—it blurred everything else. for a split second, nothing else existed. it was just his lips, desperate and pleading, and the dizzying sense of wrongness mixing with the confusion in your mind.
then, you felt it. his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach, sending a jolt through you like a cold shock of reality. the haze shattered.
you gasped, pulling away, the air in your lungs burning as the weight of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. this wasn’t just a kiss anymore. this was something far deeper, something you weren’t ready for.
before you could fully react, jungwon moved over you, his body pressing you down into the mattress, caging you beneath him. his weight pinned you in place, his arms braced on either side of your head, trapping you. he kissed you again, more frantic this time, his desperation growing with every second that passed.
“jungwon, stop,” you tried to say, but the words barely made it out, muffled by his lips, by the weight of everything that was happening too fast, too intensely. the room felt smaller, closing in around you as his kisses became more urgent, his hands wandering with a hunger that made your skin crawl.
you needed to stop this. you had to stop this.
but he wasn’t stopping.
"please," jungwon’s voice cracked as he pulled back, a thin trail of saliva connecting your lips, his eyes wide with desperation. "i need you... i need this. don’t leave me alone… not like this.
and then you felt it—his hips pressing against yours, the hard outline of his cock rubbing insistently against your thigh. your body froze, shock rippling through every inch of you.
he was so hard, the pressure of him grinding into you undeniable, suffocating. your breath hitched as you felt his desperation, his need, pressing into you like a weight you couldn’t shake.
you hated it—the way your skin flushed under his touch, how your body reacted, betraying you. and the look on his face—pained, desperate, so full of need—made it harder to pull away. it made everything harder.
his movements became more determined, the friction between you building with each desperate grind of his hips. his head fell back, a low groan tearing from his lips, his jaw slack as if he was already lost to the sensation.
his eyes fluttered shut, and just the sight of him like this—grinding against you, looking like he could cum just from that alone—had you crumbling.
"wait—" you breathed, voice barely a whisper, trying to regain control, but your own breath was coming in short, uneven gasps, mirroring the intensity he was pressing onto you. it was too much. he was too much.
and worst of all—you didn’t completely hate it. and that terrified you.
"please, let me," jungwon begged, his voice rough, full of raw emotion. his eyes burned into yours, overwhelming, trapping you beneath his gaze. his lips trembled as he kissed you again, softer this time, like he was asking for permission with each touch, pleading with you to let him keep going.
"i can't," you managed to whisper, shaking your head, trying to fight through the fog of his touch, but your body felt weak, pinned beneath his weight.
"you were kissing me back," jungwon insisted, his voice hardening as his lips hovered dangerously close to yours, his breath hot against your skin. “you liked it. don’t deny it.”
"no, jungwon, i—" your voice faltered, struggling to form words, but he pressed his forehead against yours, eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity that made it hard to breathe.
"you were," he repeated, his hands cupping your face, his fingers trembling against your skin. "stop lying to yourself, y/n."
his words twisted inside your chest, sending your thoughts spiraling. the confusion, the guilt—it all mixed with the undeniable pull of the moment, the years of repressed feelings now breaking free, crashing down around you in waves too strong to resist.
"this isn’t right," you whispered, your hands gripping his shirt, half trying to push him away, half holding him closer. you were torn, the weight of the situation crashing into the undeniable connection between you.
"but it feels right, doesn’t it?" jungwon murmured, his lips finding yours again, kissing you deeply, slowly, like he was savoring the taste of you, as if this was his last chance.
you gasped into the kiss, your hands sliding down to his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you let yourself kiss him back, fully aware of the line you were crossing. but as soon as you did, the weight of reality slammed into you, and you pulled away, breathless, shaking your head.
jungwon’s eyes darkened as he hovered over you, his hands roaming your sides, fingers slipping under your shirt, grazing your bare skin. "you don’t hate it,” he whispered, his voice low, dangerous, “i can feel it."
his words slithered into your mind, clouding your thoughts, blurring the lines you had promised yourself you’d never cross. his touch—too close, too much—made you tremble, and the way he looked at you... it was dangerous. your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic beat of fear and something you didn’t want to admit.
"this isn’t right... jay—" you started, your voice cracking under the weight of it all, but as soon as you said jay’s name, jungwon’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching.
"he's not here. i am." his voice was sharp, final, as he leaned in, dragging his tongue slowly up your neck, making your body shudder involuntarily.
"doesn’t it feel good?” his hands roamed rougher now, his fingers sneaking further under your shirt, brushing against your skin with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. “i can make you feel so fucking good... you know i’m right."
his tongue flicked over your ear, making your breath catch in your throat, your gasp betraying you. his mouth moved down to your neck, sucking hard, marking you in a way that made your stomach twist with both guilt and something darker.
you pushed weakly at his shoulders, your hands trembling, but he was stronger, catching your wrists and pinning them down as his mouth continued its slow, torturous path down your body. his nose brushed against your shirt as he lifted it slightly, his tongue dragging in slow, teasing stripes along your stomach like he was savoring every second.
you arched into the sensation, a broken moan slipping from your lips, and jungwon groaned in response, the sound of your pleasure spurring him on. just as you felt yourself slipping further, the image of jay flashed in your mind, cold and sobering. jungwon noticed immediately, his eyes snapping up to yours, his expression darkening as he read your thoughts before you could even voice them.
"no, no," he whispered, moving back up to your lips, kissing you again, desperate to keep you from pulling away. "you're thinking about him again, aren’t you?" his breath was hot against your ear, his frustration bleeding into his words.
“but you’re my brother…” the words slipped out, weak and trembling, as you tried to grasp onto some semblance of reality, something to hold onto, some line that shouldn’t be crossed.
your chest tightened, the weight of everything crashing down on you as you looked at him—jungwon, the boy you had grown up with, the person who should have been your safety, your boundary.
jungwon froze for a split second, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you saw something break inside him—a flash of vulnerability that shattered the hardness in his expression. but it was gone as quickly as it came. his grip on your waist tightened, like he was afraid you’d slip away from him, like losing you was a possibility he couldn’t bear.
"i never wanted to be," he whispered, his voice raw, and those five words hit you like a blow to the chest. there was no hesitation, no regret, only a desperate need. his lips found yours again, softer this time but still so urgent, so desperate. he kissed you like he was trying to erase your words, trying to make you forget everything—your boundaries, jay, and the storm of emotions that surrounded you both.
your eyes squeezed shut, your entire body trembling as his lips moved against yours. but even as you tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let you retreat. “look at me,” he whispered, his voice shaky yet filled with quiet authority, a plea buried deep within the demand. “please, y/n. look at me.”
you kept your eyes shut tight, resisting, clinging to whatever was left of your resolve. “i can’t… i can’t do this to jay,” you breathed, voice barely holding together as you tried to escape the hold jungwon had over you.
but jungwon wasn’t stopping. he kissed along your neck, slow, deliberate, each kiss sending a jolt through your body. “jay doesn’t have to know,” he murmured between kisses, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, the warmth of him wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.
his lips trailed up your cheek, his hands cradling your face with such tenderness it made your heart ache. the contrast of his desperation and his soft touch was overwhelming. he bit down on your bottom lip, gently but firm enough to make you gasp, and before you could stop yourself, a low moan slipped out.
he paused at the sound, and in that split second, you felt everything shift. he saw it—the way you were faltering, the way your body was betraying you. “see?” he whispered, his lips hovering inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. “you want this too.”
"he’s not here, y/n. jay doesn’t have to know," jungwon repeated, but this time his voice cracked, and you could hear the rawness in it—the pain, the need. "i’m right here. i’ve always been here."
"no..." you whispered weakly, but even you weren’t sure if you believed it anymore.
jungwon’s hand slipped down, his fingers sliding under your waistband, finding your soaked core. you gasped, your body betraying you again as his fingers teased you, slipping inside slowly. he groaned softly, his lips curling into a dark smirk as he felt how wet you were.
"then why are you so wet for me?" his voice was low, dangerous, as he pushed deeper. "fuck, you’re soaked... all for me."
you whimpered, your body arching into him, even as your mind screamed at you to stop. "why?" you choked out, your voice trembling, your eyes pleading for answers. "why are you doing this?"
jungwon pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes locked on yours, full of raw emotion—something deeper, something darker. "because i love you."
his confession hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, your heart pounding, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of his words sank in. you hadn’t realized, you hadn’t seen it, hadn’t felt it before. but now? now everything made sense.
"jungwon..." you whispered, your hands weakly gripping his shirt, the guilt and confusion twisting tighter around you. "i didn’t know... i didn’t realize..."
"you never saw me," he whispered, his voice barely holding together, his lips just inches from yours. the sadness in his eyes was unbearable, cutting through you like a knife. "not the way i needed you to. but i’ve seen you, every single day. every second. i’ve loved you, y/n. even when it fucking hurt, even when i tried to stay away. but i can’t anymore."
his words hit you like a tidal wave, the full force of his heartbreak crashing into you. you could feel it now—the years of silent suffering, the way he’d watched from the shadows, wanting you, needing you, and you never even noticed. it tore at you, unraveling everything you thought you knew.
"i... i don’t know what to say," you stammered, your mind spinning, everything unraveling at once. guilt, confusion, and the weight of his confession pressed down on you, suffocating, leaving you gasping for air.
"you don’t have to say anything... just let me have you," he whispered, his voice breaking as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, soft and hesitant, like he was scared you’d push him away again. "that’s all i’m asking."
his forehead rested against yours, his body trembling as he held you close, his breath uneven, each second stretching out painfully. there was no more hiding. this was him—raw, broken, vulnerable—and he was asking for everything.
the guilt hit you hard, like a wave pulling you under. you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just lust for him. this was years of repressed feelings, of unspoken love, of obsession. he had loved you in silence for so long, and now he was laying it all out in front of you, begging for just a moment of validation, for you to see him.
and as you stared into his tear-streaked eyes, you couldn’t deny it anymore. you couldn’t pretend. there had been something between you, once, twice... maybe more times than you wanted to admit. and now, with everything out in the open, it was all crashing down on you.
you couldn’t look away. you couldn’t push him away. he was too close, too raw, and every second you stayed, every breath you shared, the line between right and wrong blurred even more.
"please," he whispered again, his voice so broken, so full of everything he’d held inside for so long. and as his lips brushed yours again, you felt yourself slipping, falling into him, into the years of unspoken desire and love that had always been there, waiting for you to see it.
"jungwon..." your voice cracked, tears welling up in your eyes. "i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry."
the words barely had a chance to settle before you kissed him. your lips crashed into his, the storm of emotions inside you spilling over, unable to hold back any longer.
jungwon froze for a split second, his breath hitching, and then he was on you, kissing you back with a desperation that made your heart ache. he groaned against your mouth, his body trembling like this was the moment he’d been waiting for his entire life. and maybe, in his mind, it was.
his hands clamped down on your waist, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you so close that you could barely breathe. his kiss was everything—years of longing, of frustration, heartbreak—all spilling out at once.
and now that you were kissing him back, now that he had you, it was like something inside him was breaking apart and being put back together at the same time.
he kissed you like it was his last chance, like he was drowning and this was his only way to breathe. his tongue slid into your mouth, greedy, devouring every sound you made, groaning deep in his chest like this was everything he had ever wanted.
the meaningless girls, the distractions, none of it had ever come close to this. you were all he had ever wanted.
his touch ignited something in you too—something raw, something you’d buried deep. your body responded to him, the heat of his hands on your skin setting your nerves on fire, and you couldn’t help but kiss him deeper, harder.
his lips trailed down to your neck, biting, sucking, marking you, and with every gasp that escaped your mouth, he lost a little more control.
"fuck," jungwon groaned, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slipped under your shirt, his touch rough, frantic. he was losing himself in you, piece by piece, every touch unraveling something inside him that had been locked away for too long.
and now, now that he had you, he wasn’t sure if he could ever let go.
his fingers grazed your skin, and you arched into him, your body betraying you with a soft gasp that only spurred him on. his grip tightened, and the kiss deepened, his need pouring into you, relentless. he tugged at your shirt, your clothes, desperate to feel more of you, to claim more of you.
he had waited so long for this moment—watched for so long. the fantasies, the dreams, the nights spent watching you from a distance, imagining this. nothing compared to the reality of having you beneath him, of hearing your moans, of feeling your body give in to his touch.
his breath caught as he realized—you were giving in. you wanted him. your hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him closer, and it was like a switch flipped in him. his lips curled into a smirk against your skin as he kissed you harder, his movements growing more aggressive, more possessive.
oh. yes.
you gasped, breathless, as his lips pressed harder against yours, his hips grinding against you. this was what he had wanted all along, what he had craved. his cock was hard, straining against his clothes, and he groaned into your mouth, his fingers digging into your waist, his grip possessive, as if he was afraid you’d disappear.
"fuck," he breathed, his voice low, dangerous, his lips brushing your ear. "you don’t know how long i’ve waited for this."
his hips pressed into yours, grinding slowly, teasingly, his fingers slipping down to tug at your shorts. "hurry," you gasped, your breath shaky and uneven, the urgency in your voice sending a thrill through him. his body stilled for a moment, his eyes darkening, a twisted smirk playing on his lips as he kissed along your neck.
"oh, that’s it," he muttered, his voice deep, rough. "so eager. so fucking eager."
his teeth sank into your skin, harder this time, bruising. it wasn’t just a bite; it was a claim. his hands moved with purpose now, one pinning your wrists above your head, the other pulling at your clothes, his grip tight, possessive. you were his, and he was going to make sure you knew it.
the darkness in him started to bleed through, inch by inch. his touches grew rougher, his kisses more frantic. he was unraveling before your eyes, losing control, losing himself in you.
his hips rocked harder against yours, the friction sending shockwaves through you, another moan tearing from your throat. but something was shifting in him—something darker, something that made you shudder beneath him.
he was losing himself, bit by bit, and he wasn’t going to stop.
"fuck," he growled, his breath hot against your neck, his voice filled with raw need. "you don’t know what you’ve done to me. i’ve been waiting... waiting so fucking long."
his hips pressed harder into you, rougher, the tension between you unbearable now. his grip on your wrists tightened, pinning you harder against the bed, and you could feel it—the desperation, the obsession, the years of longing finally boiling over.
"i’m not letting you go," jungwon muttered, his voice dark, a promise that made your stomach twist. his lips crashed against yours again, his kiss a mix of need and frustration, his control slipping further and further away.
"you think jay could ever make you feel like this?" jungwon hissed into your ear, his breath hot and jagged, the words slicing through the air like a challenge. his voice was low, darker than you had ever heard it, filled with a jealousy and possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine.
the roughness of his movements took you by surprise, the sudden intensity catching you off guard. a thrill shot through you at the way he was taking control, but the mention of jay—your boyfriend, miles away—sent a wave of guilt crashing through you.
then you looked up at jungwon. really looked at him.
his face was twisted, contorted in a way you’d never seen before. the softness you had always known was gone, replaced by something unrecognizable. his eyes burned with an intensity that bordered on madness, a wild, unhinged hunger that seemed to consume him.
your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of fear and something far more dangerous tightening in your stomach. this wasn’t the boy you knew. this was something else, something darker, and yet the way he dominated you, the way he held you down, had you teetering on the edge of wanting more.
"he couldn’t even eat you out after you gave him the suck of his life." jungwon’s voice was sharp, almost mocking, but laced with something more sinister, something dangerous.
your eyes flew open at his words, panic rising in your chest. how did he know? your voice trembled as you spoke, "what? how do you know that?" the room felt like it was closing in on you, the tension suffocating. no one should have known, no one could have seen or heard that moment. your breath hitched as fear crept up your spine.
jungwon's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with something dark, something you couldn’t place. he leaned in closer, his body pressing harder against yours.
"i know everything, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and chilling, his gaze locking onto yours with a twisted sense of satisfaction. it was like he was savoring your fear, relishing in the control he had over you.
you tried to pull away, panic tightening in your chest, but jungwon’s grip only grew stronger. in one swift motion, he yanked your shorts down, making you yelp, the action so rough it left you breathless.
"you didn’t think i’d just sit back and let him have you, did you?" his voice was taunting now, a cruel edge to his words. "i’ve been watching. every little thing."
the reality of his words slammed into you, and your heart raced with panic. watching? how?
"w-what do you mean? how?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as his weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, keeping you pinned beneath him. jungwon straddled you, his eyes dark and unreadable, but there was something more there now, something sinister lurking just beneath the surface.
your heart pounded as his hands grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up roughly to reveal your bra. before you could react, he snapped one of the straps against your skin, the sting sharp, causing you to gasp. your body reacted against your will, a flush of heat rising under your skin.
"wouldn't you like to know?" jungwon's smirk grew, his eyes dancing with dark amusement, like this was all a game to him—a twisted, dangerous game that only he understood.
fear and confusion clouded your thoughts, but there was something else there, something darker stirring inside you. despite the fear, the way he had complete control over you—his dominance, the weight of his body trapping you—had your pulse quickening in ways you didn’t expect.
"jungwon, i’m not fucking around," you snapped, your voice shaky but firm, trying to mask the panic that was threatening to overtake you. your hands pushed against his chest, but he was unmovable, his body keeping you pinned beneath him, helpless.
"how were you watching?" you demanded, the question barely leaving your lips as your breath hitched. you needed to know, needed to understand what was happening.
jungwon’s smirk didn’t waver. in fact, it seemed to grow darker. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, taunting whisper. "i have my ways." the words sent a chill down your spine, his tone dripping with arrogance. his hips shifted, pressing harder against you, reminding you just how trapped you were.
your breath caught as his fingers trailed down your stomach, the heat of his touch setting off a reaction in your body that you didn’t want to acknowledge. "you’re so curious," he teased, his voice growing darker, more dangerous. "but maybe you should focus on how you’re feeling right now."
"you’re getting wetter, aren’t you?" he taunted, his voice low, dripping with satisfaction.
your body betrayed you, reacting to his dominance, the way he controlled every moment, every touch. anger flared up, but it was mixed with something else—something you couldn’t shake, something primal and terrifying.
and the worst part? he wasn’t wrong.
your body heated under his touch, despite the fear clawing at the edges of your mind. every part of you wanted to scream, wanted to fight back, but you were frozen, pinned beneath him, powerless.
and jungwon? he saw it all. he saw your hesitation, your fear, the way your body responded to him. his smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction as he watched you unravel beneath him.
"he couldn’t give you this," he muttered, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin, his breath hot and ragged. "he could never make you feel like this."
his words were venomous, biting, but they sank into your skin, embedding themselves in your thoughts. you wanted to hate him, to push him away, but with every touch, every word, he was pulling you deeper into his world.
"answer me," you spat, trying to steady your voice, but it wavered, betraying the whirlwind of confusion inside you.
jungwon’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. instead of answering, he laughed, low and dark, his hands sliding back up to your bra, tugging at the fabric with a casual cruelty.
"oh, i’ve been watching you for a long time, y/n," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something far beyond what you thought you knew of him. "all those times you thought you were alone… you weren’t."
his words sent a chill crawling down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat. this wasn’t some sudden madness; this had been brewing inside him for longer than you realized.
his fingers moved swiftly, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside like it meant nothing. his eyes darkened as he stared at your exposed chest, a satisfied moan slipping from his lips like he’d finally gotten what he’d been craving.
without hesitation, his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hungrily, possessively. the heat of his mouth sent shockwaves through you, your body arching into him before your mind could catch up to what was happening.
“knew these tits were perfect,” he mumbled between rough kisses and bites, his voice thick with arousal. his hands bunched your breasts together, squeezing as his tongue flicked between them. the intensity overwhelmed you, your skin heating under his touch, the sensation building into something you couldn’t control.
before you could even catch your breath, his lips crashed back onto yours, demanding, relentless. his kiss was rough, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of you, and despite the confusion clouding your thoughts, you found yourself kissing him back, matching his need with your own.
but even as your body responded to his touch, your mind was spinning—caught between the heat of the moment and the sickening realization that something was deeply, deeply wrong.
jungwon pulled back just enough to smirk, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip, teasing you. "you’re still trying to figure this out, aren’t you?" he whispered, his voice soft but full of twisted control.
"tell me, won," you demanded, trying to push through the fog of your mind, daring him to either stop or take things further. your pulse quickened as you spoke, hating how your voice faltered.
his eyes narrowed, something dark flickering in his expression, but there was a glint of excitement too, as if he enjoyed the fact that you were pushing back, not just giving in. it only fueled the twisted hunger burning inside him, made him want to tear you apart even more.
your heart pounded harder as your body betrayed you, your pussy growing wetter with each passing second, reacting to the way he looked down at you—confident, knowing. like he had you right where he wanted, like he’d always known exactly how to break you down.
"i know how you hated how bad jeongin was at eating you out," jungwon’s voice dripped with amusement, his eyes never leaving yours, "but you forgave him, didn’t you? because he was cute."
your body froze, how did he know that? your heart raced, panic bubbling up inside you, but jungwon leaned in, his breath hot against your skin.
"how?" you asked, your voice trembling with disbelief, your mind racing to piece together the puzzle. but jungwon didn’t stop. his fingers moved between your legs, slipping through your slick folds effortlessly, and a sharp hiss escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were for him.
"fuck," he groaned, pulling his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfaction that sent shivers through your entire body. his cock strained against his pants, the bulge pressing hard against you, reminding you what was coming next.
"and kai," he continued, his voice dripping with that same twisted smirk, "you hated how he made you swallow his cum, didn’t you? because it tasted gross." he was revealing things no one should know, secrets you had buried deep.
you squirmed beneath him, your mind reeling. how did he know these intimate details? things you never told anyone, not even your closest friends.
his hand slid back between your legs, his fingers teasing your clit, rubbing slow circles as you struggled to stay in control. "but here you are," he murmured, his voice low, full of twisted satisfaction, "so fucking wet for me."
"you pervert," you spat, but your voice lacked the bite you wanted it to have. your body was betraying you, responding to his touch even as your mind screamed that this was wrong. "were you listening in on me? when i was talking to yuna?"
the memories of those conversations, those private confessions you had shared with your friend, rushed back to you. the thought of him listening in, lurking, sent a wave of nausea through you.
jungwon’s smirk grew darker, more twisted. "every word," he whispered, his fingers working your clit faster, his voice laced with a sick satisfaction. "while you thought you were alone, spilling your secrets to yuna, i was right there. hearing everything."
his free hand came down on your breasts, slapping them just enough to make them bounce, before gripping one firmly, his tongue licking his lips sinfully. he was savoring every reaction, every shudder of your body beneath him.
"but i bet you're dying to know how." jungwon’s voice was low, teasing, as he toyed with you, his fingers slipping inside you again, deeper this time. your slick coated his knuckles as he pumped in and out, your body betraying you completely.
"how?" you whispered, your breath shaky, barely able to form the words. the pressure between your legs was building, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge despite the horror of what he was saying.
without warning, jungwon pulled away, leaving you gasping for breath, your body trembling with need. he stood up, quickly tugging his shirt off, revealing his toned chest. your eyes followed the movement.
you sat up slightly, your eyes locked on his body. "just tell me how?" you asked again, more urgently this time.
"does it really matter?" he growled, his breath hot against your ear. his body pressed down on yours, heavy and dominant, as he rocked his hips against you, letting you feel the full hardness of his cock through his pants.
"you’re here, pussy dripping," jungwon's voice was dripping with twisted satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with something darker, more manic, as he watched you squirm beneath him. "about to fuck your stepbrother."
his words hung in the air like a confession, dark and sinister, and you realized—he had been watching you, listening, lurking in the shadows for far longer than you ever could have imagined.
jungwon moved, pushing off the bed to stand for a brief second before he settled back down, lying flat against the mattress. his eyes, dark and unrelenting, never left yours, watching every breath, every flicker of hesitation that crossed your face. the weight of his gaze felt like a physical force, pinning you in place.
"come here," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. his head rested against the pillow, one hand lazily trailing down his chest, teasing himself, as if he had all the time in the world. "sit on my face, y/n. maybe then i’ll tell you everything."
"you’re fucking insane," you spat, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to keep some semblance of control. but even as the words left your mouth, you could feel the heat between your legs, the undeniable ache that had been building ever since his hands had been on you.
jungwon didn’t flinch. if anything, his smirk deepened, that dark amusement dancing in his eyes. "maybe," he admitted, his tone almost casual, like he was discussing the weather. "but i’m a man of my word. i’m not going to let you get all wet like this and not take responsibility for it."
his voice dropped lower, more commanding, as his hand slid lower, trailing down to his pants, his fingers teasing the waistband. "or would you rather stop this now?" he challenged, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to make the choice. "because i’ll stop if you want me to."
you sat frozen, your mind screaming at you to walk away, to leave before it was too late, but your body… your body wanted something else. your pulse quickened, heat pooling low in your stomach as jungwon’s eyes stayed fixed on yours, waiting, anticipating.
"come on, y/n," jungwon whispered, his voice taking on that seductive edge, his body shifting, as if inviting you in. "you know you don’t want this to stop." he licked his lips, his tongue flicking out slowly, teasingly. "you want it. just admit it."
"you’re such a fucking asshole," you muttered, your voice low, barely above a whisper, but your legs were already moving, your body acting before your mind could catch up.
jungwon’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he watched you, his hands sliding up to rest on your thighs as you straddled him, your body trembling with anticipation. "yeah?" he murmured, his voice rough and thick with desire. "but i’m your fucking asshole, aren’t i?"
the second you settled over him, hovering just above his face, jungwon’s hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you down slowly, his breath hot against your core.
"that’s it," he whispered, his voice low and dark, sending a thrill through you. "you’re gonna ride my face, and i’ll tell you everything you want to know."
you hesitated for just a second, the last flicker of doubt crossing your mind, but then his tongue flicked out, teasing the edge of your folds, and the hesitation melted away in an instant. your head fell back, a soft gasp escaping your lips as the heat of his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.
"fuck," you whispered, your fingers curling into his soft hair as jungwon’s tongue slid between your folds, teasing and tasting you. flicking your clit, tracing circles on it. his grip on your thighs tightened, holding you firmly in place as he licked deeper, groaning softly against your skin.
your body trembled, every nerve on fire as jungwon worked you with expert precision, his tongue moving in slow, then picking up. the intensity of it all—the heat, the sensation, the control—was overwhelming, consuming you completely.
and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, jungwon pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your core as he whispered, "you taste fucking perfect."
your breath hitched, your heart racing in your chest as his words sank in, sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through you. his tongue returned with renewed intensity, his hands gripping your thighs tighter, pulling you down harder against his face, making it impossible to think, impossible to breathe.
he was relentless, and you were lost.
"tell me," you gasped, your voice shaky, barely holding together as his tongue worked you over and over again. "tell me everything."
jungwon groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body as he looked up at you, his eyes dark, filled with something dangerous, something wild.
"after i make you cum, baby," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you even closer. "then i'll tell you everything."
and you knew, as the pleasure built higher and higher, that you were too far gone to stop now.
"shit," jungwon moaned against your pussy, his voice thick with desperation, his eyes rolling back as if he were lost in the taste of you. the sound of him, so consumed by you, had you throwing your head back, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.
"finally," he groaned, barely pulling away to speak, his lips brushing against your swollen folds, "you let me eat your pussy."
his words were raw, dripping with satisfaction, but there was an edge to them, something darker, something possessive. his gaze flickered up to meet yours for a split second, a twisted smirk pulling at his lips.
"but jay never got a chance to try, did he?" he added, his tone mocking, taunting. it was like he was relishing in the thought of jay being left out, being second to him.
the mention of jay made your stomach twist with guilt, but before you could respond, jungwon's mouth moved lower, his tongue tracing a slick path that had you gasping.
you jerked as his tongue flicked over your puckered hole, the sensation sudden, intense, making your entire body tense on top of him. jungwon's moans vibrated against your skin, deep and primal, as he prodded his tongue against your tight hole.
it was overwhelming—everything about him, the way he touched you, the way he tasted you, his hunger for you.
"you’ve never let anyone fuck your ass, have you?" his voice was a low growl, filled with smug satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to look up at you. his eyes gleamed with dark desire, and the way he said it—it was like a promise, a claim. he had already decided what he wanted, and he wasn’t asking for permission.
"but you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?" his voice was manic, dripping with that same twisted hunger, unable to move, unable to think.
his hand gripped your hip tightly as his tongue slid back over your hole, teasing you again, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. you couldn’t stop trembling, the mix of shock and heat building inside you, spiraling out of control.
"i bet teddy didn’t feel half of what i’m feeling right now. the way you’re grinding on me, using me, just like you used to use him—except i can make you come for real." what? jungwon's voice was dark, teasing, but you could barely process his words, too busy trembling from the way his tongue continued to lick and lap at your soaked pussy.
"i’m gonna take every fucking part of you," he growled, his tongue swirling around your asshole before sliding back up to your pussy. "fuck every single one of your holes and fill it with my cum," he continued, his words thick with lust, his voice dark and commanding. "you’d like that, wouldn’t you?"
a moan ripped from your throat, raw and uncontrollable, and before you could even process it, his palm came down hard against your ass, the sting sharp and immediate.
the force of it made your muscles clench, and your whole body jerked forward. you could feel his grip tighten on your ass, spreading you even more as he leaned in again, licking a slow, deliberate path from your asshole to your pussy, leaving you gasping for air.
"fuck, jungwon—" you struggled, trying to move, to regain some kind of control, but he was too strong. he pulled away from your pussy suddenly, replacing his tongue with the brutal force of his fingers, thrusting into you hard and fast.
the obscene sound of your wetness filled the room, mixing with your ragged breaths and the slap of his hand on your thigh. your legs shook, barely able to keep up with the intensity building inside you.
"i know you can fucking squirt," jungwon hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes wild with lust. his jaw was slack, and his expression was hungry, like he was devouring every reaction you gave him. "come on," he growled, his fingers pumping deeper, harder. "fucking squirt all over me."
your body couldn’t hold back any longer. you exploded, squirting in violent, uncontrollable bursts, your juices splashing against his chest, down his neck, his face. jungwon didn’t flinch—if anything, he groaned, deep and guttural, as he licked up every drop, his tongue greedy, relentless.
"f-fuck, stop," you whimpered, your body trembling uncontrollably as waves of overstimulation crashed over you. your vision blurred, your muscles weak as you tried to crawl away, desperate for a break, for some relief. but jungwon wasn’t about to let you go. his hand shot out, gripping your ankle, yanking you back.
"where do you think you're going?" he growled, a crazed look in his eyes as he towered over you. his hand moved to his pants, pulling his cock free, and the sight of it—hard, thick, dripping—sent another wave of heat coursing through your body.
he stroked himself slowly, pre-cum leaking from the tip, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that sent shivers through your entire body. his grip tightened on your hair, keeping you in place, the raw obsession in his gaze making your breath hitch.
"look at me," jungwon demanded, his hand forced your head up, and your eyes immediately fell on the sight of him stroking his cock, thick and hard right in front of your face. "you see this?" he hissed, his breath shaky, almost unhinged. "you fucking did this to me."
"you’re going to take every fucking inch of me," he growled, his eyes burning with hunger as he leaned closer, his cock brushing your lips, daring you. "you hear that?"
your lips parted unconsciously, your tongue flicking out to wet them, and jungwon noticed immediately, a wicked smirk twisting at the corners of his mouth.
"that’s it…" he groaned, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. "you want it, don’t you?"
you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. your mind was swirling, caught between the reality of how far things had gone and the way your body responded to his touch, to his words.
"open up," he commanded, his voice steady, his gaze never wavering. "i want to feel that pretty little mouth wrapped around me while you fucking choke on it."
the words sent a shiver down your spine. he was watching you closely, waiting, his fingers still tight in your hair as he pressed his cock to your lips again, pushing against them, demanding more.
he didn’t wait for you to respond, his hand pushing your head down as he slid his cock into your mouth without hesitation. you barely had time to process the size of him, thick and overwhelming, as he filled your mouth completely.
your hands shot up, instinctively gripping his thighs, but jungwon didn’t slow down. he was relentless, thrusting into your mouth harder, faster, giving you no time to adjust.
you gagged, struggling to take him, your eyes watering as he pushed deeper, but jungwon’s grip only tightened, holding you in place as he groaned low in his throat, lost in the sensation. "that’s it, fucking choke on it," he snarled, his voice dripping with filthy satisfaction. "you wanted this, didn’t you?"
you couldn’t answer, couldn’t even breathe as his cock hit the back of your throat, choking you. your hands pressed against his thighs, trying to push him back, but he didn’t relent. his hips bucked against your mouth, forcing you to take more of him, his voice harsh, possessive.
"you’re gonna take all of me," he growled, his eyes wild as he watched you struggle beneath him, his fingers digging into your scalp. "you think i’m gonna stop now? after all this? after everything you’ve done to me?" his voice cracked with intensity, his obsession bubbling over, too much to contain.
your tears mixed with spit, dripping down your chin as he fucked your mouth with ruthless abandon, his groans filling the air, echoing off the walls. "you look like such a fucking mess," he taunted, his voice thick with lust, but there was something more underneath, something twisted and broken. "drooling all over my cock like the slut you are."
his words hit you like a blow, raw and degrading, but there was no denying the way your body reacted, the way your core tightened with every filthy insult, with every thrust that left you gasping for air.
"you can’t even take half of me," he groaned, his cock stretching your mouth painfully, but there was no room to stop, no room to even breathe. "but you’ll fucking learn. you’ll learn how to take every inch of me." his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, and the sounds of your gagging only seemed to fuel him further.
"i’m gonna make you my fucking whore," jungwon growled, his words filled with possessiveness, his hand gripping your hair tighter, forcing you to take him deeper until you thought you might pass out from lack of air.
and then, just when you thought he couldn’t push further, he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping for breath, your throat burning, your body trembling. your lips were swollen, wet, as you tried to steady yourself, but jungwon didn’t give you a chance to recover.
he leaned down down to cage you between his arms, his bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his body overwhelming, suffocating. his breath ghosted over your ear, “you’re mine,” he growled, his fingers digging into your hips, pinning you beneath him. “and you fucking know it. tell me how much you want it.”
your mind was spinning, your body reacting instinctively, “i want it, jungwon. i want you.”
a smirk curled on his lips, his dark eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction, he completely had you. “fucking filthy for me,” he murmured, voice low and tainted with pride. “and i haven’t even started yet.”
“you think jay or any of those other idiots came even close?" his lips brushed your ear, and he spoke again, darker this time. "i’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll forget every single one of them. my cock’s the only one you’ll ever need."
and then, he pushed inside, the stretch brutal, tearing a gasp from your throat. the sensation was overwhelming, too much, but it was exactly what you craved.
your body arched beneath him, caught between the overwhelming pleasure and the creeping horror as his words sunk in. he had been watching. always watching.
"i’ve seen it all, and it's so much better than just sitting in front of my screen every night, getting myself off," jungwon muttered, his voice low, dripping with satisfaction. "every fucking time you let them touch you. every single moment you thought you were alone—i was watching."
screen? your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest as the pieces began to fall into place. “you... what the fuck—how?” you gasped, horror flooding through you as the reality of what he said hit. “you were watching me?”
jungwon’s pace never faltered, each thrust brutal and relentless. he locked eyes with you, dark and unapologetic. “yeah,” he sneered.
“you didn’t think i’d let those assholes have you without making sure they weren’t fucking you up, did you? i had to make sure they didn’t hurt you. had to make sure you stayed mine.”
"you had a fucking camera?" your voice cracked, the disbelief seeping into every word as the air between you turned suffocating.
he grinned darkly, eyes glinting with a manic edge. “yeah, i had a camera. more than one.”
your heart pounded against your chest, anger and fear warring inside you. you tried to push him off, but your body, treacherous and betraying, moved with his rhythm.
"jungwon, that’s... sick," you hissed, your voice trembling, but it didn’t stop your body from arching into him, from clenching around him as his thrusts became even more punishing.
his hand shot up, gripping your jaw, forcing you to look into his eyes. "shut up," he growled, his face inches from yours, "you don’t get it, do you? i didn’t fucking care about them. i did this for you. no one else could touch you like this. no one else deserves you."
your hands pressed against his chest, trying to fight back, but every thrust had you gasping for air, your thoughts blurring in the haze of pleasure and disgust.
“you’re fucking sick, jungwon,” you managed to choke out.
he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over your ear, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. “yeah? i’m sick?” he sneered, his voice dripping with arrogance. “then why are you so fucking wet for me? you didn’t stop fucking against me, even after everything.”
his words were twisted, taunting, but you couldn’t deny it. the shame twisted inside you, mixing with the pleasure coursing through your veins. "fuck off," you spat, but your voice lacked conviction, your body betraying the truth of what you were feeling.
jungwon grinned, pulling back slightly to look down at you, his eyes gleaming with that same dark satisfaction. “you think i don’t know what you do when you’re alone?” he whispered, his voice low and mocking.
“you think i didn’t see the way you fucked that teddy bear i got you, grinding against it like a desperate little slut, rubbing yourself raw until you came?”
your stomach dropped, humiliation crashing over you in waves as the truth sank in. so that's what he meant earlier, the words flying by because you were too lost in pleasure, fuck, he'd really seen everything.
you recall his words.
"i bet teddy didn’t feel half of what i’m feeling right now. the way you’re grinding on me, using me, just like you used to use him—except i can make you come for real."
"you... you’re disgusting," you stammered, the shame burning through your skin, but jungwon wasn’t fazed. he continued to fuck you, his hand reaching down to rub circles against your clit. but you slap his hand away, and he just smirks.
“yeah, maybe i am,” he groaned, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he pounded into you harder, drowning in the feeling of your tight, trembling walls wrapped around him.
“but you’re mine. and you fucking love it.” his hand slid down to your throat, his fingers tightening just enough to make your breath hitch, his smirk widening as he saw the effect it had on you. “you’re never going to need anyone else. just me. say it.”
you could barely breathe, let alone think, but even now, through the haze of pleasure and disgust, you couldn’t help but fight back. “i… i hate you—"
“wrong fucking answer,” he snarled, his grip on your throat tightening as his hips snapped forward brutally, each thrust shaking you, pushing you deeper into the bed. the sheets tangled beneath you as you gasped for air, every brutal stroke tearing another cry from your lips. “try again. you fucking love this.”
despite the storm of emotions flooding your mind—disgust, anger, shame—there was no denying it. the way his cock dragged against your walls, the way your body reacted to his dominance, had you screaming his name, it was sick and twisted, but it was true.
"didn’t you say you love me?" jungwon taunted, full of arrogance as he tightened his grip around your throat. the force of his thrusts had you bouncing against the mattress. “wasn’t that what you said?”
you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, your body shaking as he pounded into you without mercy. all you could do was grip his arms tighter, pulling him closer, needing more despite the war raging inside you.
"answer me," he growled, slamming into you harder, his hips grinding against you as his cock dragged in and out, each thrust more obscene than the last. "didn’t you say you fucking love me?"
you tried to speak, but the pressure on your throat made it impossible to get the words out. your breath hitched, your vision blurring as his hand squeezed tighter. finally, you managed to whisper, your voice shaky and broken. “you’re my brother... of course, i—I do—”
jungwon’s eyes lit up with a twisted, possessive fire. his grip tightened even more as he watched you, you were breaking, and he loved it.
"you're mine," he growled, the intensity in his voice sending another wave of heat through you. "say it."
"i’m yours," you gasped, the words spilling out of you, tears streaming down your cheeks as the weight of everything crashed into you. it was true. you were his, and no matter how hard you fought it, there was no escaping it, not anymore when he was balls deep in you giving you pleasure you'd only dreamed of.
that wicked, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip hard enough to make you wince. the pain mixed with pleasure, sending a shiver down your spine, your moans turning into broken sobs as he fucked you deeper into the mattress.
“fuck—” you gasped, barely able to get the word out before he was thrusting into you again, harder, faster, his hips grinding against yours as if he was trying to bury himself deeper, trying to own every inch of you.
and maybe he already had. no, he did. he completely owned you.
“shit,” jungwon growled, his breath hot and ragged as he pounded into you, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room.
your entire body convulsed, the stretch of him deep inside you was overwhelming, but your body refused to let him go. your walls clenched around him, desperate to keep him there, desperate to feel more of him.
“fuck,” you sobbed, nails digging into his back, trying to hold on, but it was no use. he had you completely, and he knew it. "jungwon, i can’t— you’re gonna break me—"
"yes, you can," he snarled, his lips hovering just over yours, his voice dripping with possession. he thrust harder, deeper, making you scream as he pushed past every limit.
“you fucking can. i’m not stopping until you’re ruined for anyone else." the sheer force of his words, the raw need in his voice, sent a jolt of heat through you, making your head spin.
your moans turned into broken sobs, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him as he drove into you mercilessly, taking you apart piece by piece. you were addicted to him.
you came again, violently, your entire body trembling as your release gushed over his cock. your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing down and leaving you gasping for breath, your mind going blank as everything else faded away.
jungwon let out a deep, desperate groan, his body shuddering as he felt you clench around him. “fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice thick with crazed lust as he gripped your hips even tighter, bruising your skin. "your fucking pussy—god, it’s perfect. you’re fucking perfect."
"you know, i fucking hated jay for touching you," jungwon growled, his pace becoming even more brutal not stopping even if your pussy was already dripping all over the sheets.
"letting him fuck you like that. making him cum inside you? is that what you wanted, huh?" his fingers thread through your hair, keeping you pinned down as he licked long stripes up your neck again, obsessed with the way your sweat tasted. “you wanna be a fucking cum dumpster? that what you like? letting them fill you up just so i could fucking watch?"
you whimpered, shaking your head, but your body was betraying you, reacting to his words, to the way he was fucking you. "don’t fucking lie," he spat, his eyes burning with obsession as he pulled back to look at you. "you liked putting on a show for me, didn’t you? i almost think you were doing it on purpose.”
“jungwon, no, I—” you tried to protest, your voice trembling, but the pleasure was too intense, every thrust from him stealing the words from your mouth.
“letting me watch you get ruined, just so i could want you more,” he sneered. “you’re fucking mine now,” he growled, his voice low and dark, each word dripping with madness. “and i’m gonna make sure jay fucking sees it.”
your heart dropped, panic surging through you. “no, jungwon—he can’t,” you gasped, your body trembling as the realization of what he was saying crashed over you. the thought of jay finding out, of seeing you like this, was too much. “he can’t know—"
jungwon’s chuckled, "oh, so you want to keep this secret? keep fucking your stepbrother behind his back?" he taunted, his voice cruel, mocking, as he drove himself deeper into you.
you choked on a sob, trying to push him away, "jungwon, please—" you begged, your voice breaking, but he wasn’t listening.
“what’s the matter?” he taunts, his breath hot against your skin. “scared of what jay would think? scared of what he’d do if he knew you were getting fucked by your stepbrother?”
his grip on your jaw tightened, forcing you to look at him, his eyes wild with obsession. “you don’t get to hide from this,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “you’re mine, and i want everyone to fucking know it.”
you could barely speak, your voice cracking as you pleaded with him. “please, jungwon—he can’t find out—”
for a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his pace slowing just enough to let you catch your breath, the pressure easing. but then, without warning, he flipped you over, pushing you onto your hands and knees. your arms shook as you tried to hold yourself up, but your body was trembling, weak from everything he’d already done to you.
before you could brace yourself, his hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you yelp, your body jerking forward. the sheets twisted beneath you as you struggled to hold yourself up, but jungwon wasn’t giving you any time to recover.
“you’re gonna fucking take it,” he growled, his voice thick with lust as he lined himself up behind you before roughly facing you to face the foot of your bed. “and you’re gonna scream my name so loud, jay will fucking hear it.”
"keep it together," jungwon growled, his hand coming down on your ass again, the sharp slap forcing a yelp from your throat. this time, the sting was harsher, your body jolting under the weight of his dominance. "i'm not fucking done with you."
you whimpered, your arms weak, trembling as you tried to push yourself up, but it was useless. your limbs felt like jelly, barely able to hold you together as he lined himself up behind you again. your heart pounded, fear and anticipation swirling in your gut as he slammed into you without warning, driving deep, the angle sending a shock through your entire body.
"fuck," you gasped, your back arching involuntarily as he filled you, the stretch almost unbearable. your hands scrambled to grab the sheets, but every thrust made you lose control, your body collapsing beneath him as he continued, merciless.
"arch your back," he snarled, gripping your hips and yanking you into position. even as you shook your head, gasping for air, his hold was unyielding, bending you exactly how he wanted.
“i can’t—” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure and pain intertwined, his cock hitting places that had you seeing stars. "it's too much—"
"yes, you fucking can," he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks. "i’m not stopping until you can’t take anyone else. until i ruin you for anyone." every word hit like a blow, sending you spiraling, your body teetering on the edge as he pounded into you harder, deeper.
you sobbed, your mind a haze of pleasure and panic. your body was betraying you, responding to him, clenching around him like it needed this, needed him, despite the fear gnawing at your insides. and then he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your neck as he yanked your head back into a kiss.
the kiss was desperate, messy, full of raw hunger. his tongue flicked against yours, and you couldn’t even respond, couldn’t do anything but whimper as his weight crushed you, trapping you beneath him.
the position made it harder to breathe, your neck straining, and the angle made every thrust hit deeper, driving you closer to the edge, closer to losing yourself completely.
your eyes fluttered shut, your mind trying to escape, but then jungwon’s voice snapped you back. “look.”
you couldn’t. you were too lost, too overwhelmed, your moans spilling out uncontrollably as he kept slamming into you. but he wasn’t giving you a choice. his hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head up, and he growled, "open your eyes."
you blinked through the haze, confused and trembling. and then you saw it—your teddy bear, sitting on the dresser, its black, unfeeling eyes staring back at you. at first, it didn’t register. what the fuck was he doing?
jungwon chuckled darkly behind you, his breath hot against your neck. "say hi," he whispered, amusement dripping from his voice, sending a chill down your spine.
"say hi?" you repeated, confusion cutting through the fog of pleasure. your voice was broken, barely audible. "i don't—"
“smile for the camera,” he taunted, his tone turning cruel, dark amusement coloring every word. “come on, he's watching.”
your stomach dropped, horror twisting inside you like a knife. jay was watching this?
you moaned, but not from pleasure—this time, it was from sheer humiliation. the sound ripped from your throat as your eyes locked onto the faint red blinking light in the teddy bear's eyes. panic surged through you, icy and cold, the realization hitting you like a truck. jay was watching. live.
the toy that had been a source of comfort for you, the one you used to hold onto during sleepless nights, had been turned into something twisted, something ugly.
you became hysterical, your body trembling uncontrollably beneath jungwon’s relentless thrusts. "no, no, no," you sobbed, your voice breaking as the tears streamed down your face. but there was no escape. your mind was spiraling, torn between disgust, shame, and the unbearable sensation of jungwon still fucking you, not letting up.
"what's wrong?" jungwon’s voice was low, mocking, dripping with sick amusement as he slowed his thrusts just enough to make you feel every inch of him. "you don’t wanna tell jay how good i'm fucking you?"
your body betrayed you, clenching around him, even as the tears kept falling, even as the humiliation consumed you. you couldn’t stop it. you couldn’t fight back.
jungwon’s hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your sobs as he pounded into you harder, more ruthless, more relentless. the weight of everything crashed down on you—jay was watching, seeing you like this. you wouldn’t be able to face him ever again. the shame burned deep inside you, twisting, making you feel even more exposed, even more ruined.
“open your eyes,” jungwon demanded, his voice rough, filled with dominance, and your eyes snapped open out of reflex. you couldn’t help it.
your gaze flickered back to the teddy bear, the red light still blinking, and the full realization of what was happening hit you like a tidal wave. jay was watching you get fucked, wrecked by your stepbrother. and just as jungwon thrust deeper, you felt it—your body giving in, pleasure and pain mixing until you couldn’t tell the difference.
your muffled screams were drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin, your body trembling as you clung to the sheets, unable to stop yourself from falling apart. you hated how much your body responded to him, hated how much you needed it, how much you needed him, even as your mind screamed at you to stop.
but it was too late. you were already his, and jay was watching. and jungwon wasn’t going to stop until you both knew it.
your body betrayed you, clenching tighter around him even as more tears spilled down your cheeks, sobs wracking your chest. you couldn’t process it—the mix of shame, horror, and pleasure tangling into something you couldn’t escape. jay was watching you. seeing you like this. jungwon wasn’t stopping.
his hand clamped down over your mouth, muffling your cries as he kept pounding into you, relentless. mind drowning in the flood of emotions crashing over you—humiliation, lust, guilt. how could jay be seeing this? wasn’t he supposed to be away?
"you’re lying!" you tried to scream, but jungwon’s hand silenced you, your body jerking with each thrust. the teddy bear, the once comforting presence, was now an unfeeling witness to your destruction, its cold eyes staring blankly as jungwon wrecked you.
you squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to escape it all, but it only made the emotions stronger.
if jay was really watching this, if he saw you like this, you’d never be able to face him again. the thought burned inside you, making you feel even more exposed, more ruined.
"open your fucking eyes," jungwon demanded, his voice dark with control, and your eyes snapped open on instinct.
there it was again—the teddy bear. that damned blinking light, red and cruel, blinking like it was mocking you. and just as jungwon drove deeper, your eyes rolled back, moans slipping from your lips, your body betraying every bit of shame and fear as he kept you pinned, fucking you harder than before.
"i even got him a present," jungwon grunted, his voice tight, on the edge, his pace turning erratic, desperate. "but i don’t think he’ll want them anymore."
your mind shattered under the way he was fucking you. humiliation melted into something raw, something addictive. fuck—this was too good. jungwon fucking you like this was too fucking good. the way he wanted you, the way he claimed you—you were gone. completely.
your body shook violently beneath him, each thrust pushing you deeper into a haze of pure need. you couldn’t think straight, couldn’t hold onto anything except the brutal pace of him inside you, each thrust wrecking you in ways you never thought possible. words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them.
"jay… i'm sorry," you gasped, voice ragged and desperate, barely able to breathe between each word.
jungwon's grip on your throat tightened, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. "sorry? don't fucking apologize," he growled, pulling your face closer to his. "tell him the truth. tell him how good i’m fucking you."
“i can’t—” you whimpered, voice barely above a whisper, your body betraying you as you moaned against his hand, your legs quaking as another wave of pleasure hit you.
“yes, you can,” jungwon hissed in your ear, his voice low and dangerous, filled with twisted satisfaction. "tell him how good i’m fucking you. tell him who really owns you now."
jungwon’s grip tightened, forcing your eyes back to the teddy bear, the blinking red light that reminded you of the truth.
"he’s watching, baby," jungwon whispered, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips snapped against yours. "watching you fall apart for me. watching me wreck your pretty little pussy. doesn’t it feel good? doesn’t it feel right?"
every thrust, every degrading word spilling from jungwon’s lips—he was right. you fucking loved it.
"tell him," jungwon coaxed, his voice soft now, almost soothing as his hand slid down your body, his fingers circling your clit. "tell him how much you love it."
"jay," you sobbed, your voice ragged, trembling. "i… i—fuck, i love it." the words slipped out before you could stop them, your body arching beneath jungwon, completely surrendering.
jungwon’s grin widened, his satisfaction palpable as he fucked you harder, his fingers working faster on your clit, driving you to the brink. "good girl," he whispered, his voice dripping with approval. "now tell him you're mine. tell him who really owns you."
"i’m yours," you choked out, your voice breaking as the words left your lips. "i’m yours, jungwon."
his thrusts grew erratic, desperate, and you felt him twitch inside you, his breathing ragged as he chased his release. "that’s right," he growled, his voice thick with possessiveness. "you're mine. and now jay knows it too."
he had you folded, knees pressed tight against your chest, your back arching painfully as jungwon forced your head up, making you watch, making you feel every single second of it.
there was no escaping it now. not the humiliation. not the pleasure. everything was crashing over you, overwhelming, and there was no way out.
you were a wreck—drool slipping from your parted lips, your tongue poking out as moans poured from your mouth, completely uncontrollable. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” you screamed, the sound raw, desperate, like you were on the verge of breaking apart entirely.
“yessss,” you dragged out, your jaw slack, body trembling, utterly destroyed beneath him. jungwon wasn’t any better, his face buried in your neck, his breath erratic and hot against your skin as he lost himself inside of you. his moans grew louder, sloppier, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding on just a little longer.
he was completely gone, fucking feral, groaning into your skin as he slammed into you, harder, deeper, like he needed to ruin you—like nothing else mattered except the sound of your body breaking under him.
"i’m gonna come inside you,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, broken, like he was barely holding on. “fill you up so good, no one else will ever fucking compare. you’re mine."
"please," you whimpered, your voice trembling, on the edge, barely able to form words. "fuck, come inside me. ruin me, i need it—i need you to."
your begging shattered him, ripped away whatever restraint he had left. with one final brutal thrust, jungwon buried himself deep inside you, his whole body seizing, shuddering violently as he came.
you felt it—hot, thick, pouring into you, the heat filling every inch of your body as he groaned your name, his face twisted in pure, animalistic pleasure.
your last orgasm slammed into you—overwhelming, all-consuming. your vision blurred, your mouth open in a scream you barely recognized as your own, your mind blank as pleasure ravaged you, wave after violent wave.
"fuck!" you cried out, voice raw, completely wrecked, as your body convulsed under him. your legs trembled, your breath coming in broken gasps as jungwon stayed pressed against you, his body just as wrecked as yours, both of you caught in the intensity of it all.
he collapsed on top of you, breath hot, panting harshly in your ear, but neither of you moved. neither of you could. you were both completely spent, bodies locked together, tangled in the aftermath of what just happened.
but even as the pleasure faded, your body still craved him. even as reality crashed back, the weight of what you’d done hung heavy. you gave in to him. completely. utterly. your fucking stepbrother.
when he finally pulled out, you felt it—his cum leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs, pooling on the ruined sheets beneath you. but jungwon wasn’t done. not yet.
his grip didn’t loosen. instead, he grabbed your jaw, forcing your face up, turning you toward the camera. his lips brushed against your cheek, pressing a mocking kiss there, eyes never leaving the lens.
you were fucked out, barely conscious, eyes glazed and half-lidded, a ruined mess under him. and that’s exactly what jungwon wanted.
he wanted jay to see everything.
but jungwon wasn’t done. he grabbed your wrist, lifting it with ease, forcing your limp hand into a wave. the gesture was slow, deliberate, mocking as he waved it toward the blinking red light in the teddy bear’s eyes.
jungwon chuckled softly, watching as your eyes fluttered closed, your head lolling to the side. you were passed out, completely ruined, your body limp beneath him, and yet, even in your unconscious state, he still had control.
“that’s right,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, dark satisfaction rolling off him in waves as he gently lowered your hand, brushing a thumb over your wrist like it was some twisted act of affection. “no coming back now.”
he leaned back, his eyes locked on your ruined form, and for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of his ragged breath. everything had fallen apart, and yet for jungwon, this was everything. this was what he wanted. to have you like this—to show jay, to show you both, that there was no escaping him.
he smirked, glancing back at the camera, his eyes glinting with that same sick satisfaction. “hope you enjoyed the show,” he muttered under his breath, mocking, taunting, before finally pulling away from your limp body.
because there was no coming back from this. not for you. not for jay.
jay entered the house quietly, a smile tugging at his lips. everything jungwon had told him was perfectly set in place—you supposedly asleep, the surprise he’d planned all ready to go. they’d planned this days ago, jungwon kept complaining about how sad you were, how much you missed jay.
so jay had left early, closing out everything he needed to just to make you happy. jungwon had assured him he’d be out with jake and sunghoon to give you both privacy, and he’d even asked jay to shut down his computer.
jungwon didn’t want you pestering him about the bill, and jay, being the kind of guy he was, had agreed. he trusted jungwon. loved him like a brother.
but as jay moved through the house, he noticed something—the faint sound of movement coming from your room. he paused, heart racing a little faster, not wanting to be caught just yet. he wanted the surprise to be perfect.
he slipped into jungwon’s room quietly, careful not to make any noise. the desk sat in front of him, the soft glow of the screen catching his eye.
then he saw it.
jay’s heart dropped, his smile fading, replaced by a wave of confusion, then horror. on the screen was a live feed of your room—jungwon fucking you relentlessly, his hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your sobs. your face was streaked with tears, your body shaking from the intensity of his thrusts.
jay froze.
the bouquet of flowers he had been holding slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor softly, forgotten. his mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, betrayal, disgust—all fighting for control.
he wanted to move, wanted to storm into that room and tear jungwon off you. but he didn’t. he couldn’t. his feet were glued to the floor as he stared at the screen, his heart shattering with each passing second.
“open your fucking eyes,” jungwon’s voice snarled through the speakers, low and demanding. jay watched as your eyes snapped open, locking onto something out of frame.
the pain in your eyes was clear at first, but then, as jungwon slammed into you harder, deeper, something shifted. your eyes rolled back, your body arching beneath him, moans spilling from your lips.
you fucking loved it.
jay’s stomach churned. bile rose in his throat as the realization hit him like a sledgehammer. this wasn’t just some accident. this wasn’t some mistake. you wanted this. you wanted him. jungwon. your fucking stepbrother.
the betrayal was suffocating. you—his girlfriend, the person he thought he knew inside and out—were being wrecked by someone he considered family. jungwon, the brother he trusted, was fucking you, and you were falling apart beneath him.
how long had this been going on? how many times had you let him touch you like this? fuck you like this?
jay’s eyes flickered to the keyboard. there they were—your panties. his favorite. stained with jungwon’s dried cum.
disgust surged through him. his fists clenched at his sides, rage burning beneath his skin. but he couldn’t stop watching. he couldn’t fucking stop.
"i even got him a present," jungwon grunted, his voice strained, breathless. "but i doubt he’ll want them anymore." jay’s heart twisted painfully as he realized the truth—this was all planned. jungwon had set him up. this entire thing was a fucking setup, a game.
jay’s vision blurred, his pulse pounding in his ears. jungwon’s hips slammed into you, harder and harder, your body writhing beneath him, begging for more.
you were so lost in the pleasure, moaning and gasping, completely ruined—and jay could only stand there, watching, as his entire world crumbled.
how could you do this?
you were sobbing now, crying out jungwon’s name as you begged for him to finish inside you. the sound of your voice, raw and desperate, shattered what was left of jay’s heart. he felt sick.
had this been a game to you? had any of it been real?
he couldn’t tear his eyes away. he hated you. he hated jungwon. but there was something else too. but he kept on watching, he needed to see it—to burn the image into his mind so he’d never forget. so he could walk away from you both forever. and when jungwon reached for your limp wrist, lifting it in a grotesque imitation of a wave.
that was the final straw.
jay stormed out of the room, the door slamming hard behind him, the sound echoing through the house. the bouquet of flowers lay forgotten on the floor, just like everything else.
you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, water dripping from your body, washing away the remnants of jungwon’s touch. but no matter how much you scrubbed, the feeling of him stayed, clinging to your skin, humming in your veins. and the guilt—it sat in your chest like a weight, suffocating, crushing, making it hard to breathe.
you couldn’t deny it—you didn’t even want to. you wanted him. you had wanted him for longer than you’d ever been willing to admit, even to yourself. there had always been something between you two, something dark and magnetic, pulling you toward him, something you didn’t fully understand. but wanting him came at a price, one you weren’t ready to pay.
your reflection stared back at you, hollow-eyed, cheeks stained with tears that wouldn’t stop falling. jungwon’s hands, his breath, his lips—they were all still on you, etched into your skin. it made your stomach twist in knots, a tangle of longing and disgust. how could you want something that felt so wrong? so twisted?
but was it really wrong? the two of you weren’t even related by blood. you didn’t ask for your parents to marry each other, you didn’t want any of this.
when jungwon stepped into the bathroom, naked, his eyes dark and possessive, you couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened. his presence filled the space like a shadow, and you couldn’t escape it. didn’t want to, really.
the tension between you two was suffocating, and yet you craved it. his eyes locked onto yours, something soft flickering beneath the possessiveness, a hint of caution.
he didn’t wait for an invitation—just closed the door behind him and stepped toward you, as if he had every right. his gaze stayed on yours, but there was hesitation in the air, uncertainty mixed with that overwhelming pull.
"do you hate me?" his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
your throat tightened, the words sticking to the back of your throat, almost too heavy to say. "i... i don’t hate you," you whispered, your voice shaking. "but i hate myself."
he stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, but you flinched, pulling back, creating space between you that you didn’t really want. you ached for him, craved his touch, but the shame was too much. it felt wrong. he felt wrong.
and then jay... jay didn’t deserve any of this. and from the look on your face, jungwon knew exactly who you were thinking about.
his jaw clenched, his expression hardening slightly, but his voice stayed soft, coaxing. "forget about him," he murmured, leaning in close enough that his forehead brushed against yours. his breath was warm, his presence overwhelming. "he doesn’t matter."
you shook your head, a sob catching in your throat. "he does matter. he trusted me, jungwon. he didn’t deserve this. how do i even look him in the eye again? i destroyed him."
"i can’t—" your voice cracked, the guilt too heavy, threatening to drown you. "i need to talk to him. i need to make things right."
jungwon’s fingers tightened around your wrist, his grip firm, possessive. his face hardened. "don’t," he said sharply, his voice taking on an edge. "he’ll only hurt you. he’ll say things that’ll tear you apart. i’m not letting you do that to yourself."
"i can’t just pretend this didn’t happen!" your voice wavered, panic rising in your chest. "i work with him, jungwon. how am i supposed to face him? how do i show up?"
"you don’t," jungwon replied, his tone softer but still firm. "call in sick for the week. take time off. you don’t need to put yourself through that right now." there was that possessiveness again, woven into every word, like he didn’t want you anywhere near jay. not now. maybe not ever.
"i need work," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him, but the thought of walking into that office, of facing jay after everything, made your stomach churn. "but maybe you’re right..."
"i am right," jungwon said, kissing your temple gently, his lips lingering there like a promise. "you don’t need to see him. not now."
his words were soft, but there was an underlying intensity. and even though the guilt still weighed heavy on your chest, there was something comforting in the way he held you, kissed you, tried to make the weight lighter.
"but i can’t forgive myself," you whispered, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes. "i can’t just forget what i did to him."
his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something close to regret crossing his face. "i’m sorry," he murmured, voice low. "i didn’t want to hurt you. but i couldn’t stop myself."
"i know," you whispered back, feeling the conflict tearing you apart. "but jay didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve to be hurt."
"you don’t need to see him," jungwon repeated, his tone firm again, his grip tightening just enough to remind you that he wasn’t letting you go. "you don’t owe him anything."
"it’s not about owing him," you said, trying to explain, but your voice was trembling. "it’s about what i did. i need to make things right."
jungwon’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. "he’ll just hurt you. i won’t let that happen." his tone was final, possessive.
you nodded, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of jay—of what he’d seen, of how you’d betrayed him. how could you ever face him again?
jungwon’s hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that had started falling again. "don’t break yourself over him," he whispered, pressing his lips to yours, soft, lingering. "i love you."
and as he pulled you into his arms, your tears soaking into his skin, the guilt and shame still weighed heavy in your chest. you didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to let jungwon go either.
you were trapped between the ache in your heart and the warmth of jungwon’s arms, knowing you couldn’t escape either.
"i'm so fucked, won," you whimpered, your voice barely audible, thick with guilt and desperation.
jungwon’s hand tightened around you, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your ear. "no, you’re not," he whispered, voice low and soothing, even though his grip was firm, possessive. "you’re mine."
you trembled in his arms, your mind spinning with the weight of everything. the shame, the guilt, the way your body still craved his touch despite it all. "how can you say that?" your voice cracked. "i’ve destroyed everything. i can’t—"
he cut you off, his lips brushing your temple softly, "you didn’t destroy anything. you just did what you’ve always wanted. what we’ve both wanted."
you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks again. "but jay—"
"forget him," jungwon growled softly, his tone darkening, fingers digging into your skin. "he doesn’t matter anymore. i’m the one who’s here. i’m the one who wants you, who’s always wanted you." he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.
"you’re not fucked, y/n. you’re right where you need to be."
after a few days of silence, when things had started to feel somewhat normal—if you could even call it that—your phone buzzed with a message. you glanced at it, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. but when you saw the name, your stomach twisted.
jay.
your hands trembled as you unlocked your phone, heart pounding in your chest. the message wasn’t what you’d hoped for, though a part of you knew it wouldn’t be kind. not after everything you've done.
jay: slacking off because you’re busy fucking your brother? i didn’t think you’d let this affect your job.
the words hit you like a slap, cold and sharp. your blood boiled, anger mixing with the shame that had been eating away at you. he didn’t understand. he couldn’t. this wasn’t just about that one night; this was bigger than that, more complicated. but how could he ever see that?
you felt a surge of emotions—anger, guilt, frustration—rising inside you, clouding your thoughts. maybe you did feel a little mad. mad that jay could reduce everything to something so ugly, so cruel. but also mad that you had no way to make him understand.
without thinking, you started typing back a response, your fingers flying over the keys, not even caring what you’d say at this point.
you: fuck you, jay. you don’t know shit—
but before you could hit send, jungwon was there, his hand grabbing the phone from your grip with a swift, firm motion.
"don’t," he said, his voice low, warning. “don’t respond.”
you snapped your head toward him, anger flashing in your eyes. “give it back,” you demanded, reaching for the phone, but jungwon held it out of your reach, his expression unreadable.
“you don’t need to answer him,” jungwon said, his voice calm, “he’s just trying to get under your skin.”
“well, it worked,” you spat, your chest heaving with frustration. “he doesn’t understand. he’ll never understand.”
jungwon’s jaw clenched, and he stepped even closer, his presence overpowering, almost suffocating. "he’ll be fine. people get hurt, they get over it. he’ll move on, and so will you." his hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek, wiping away a tear that slipped down.
"you don’t owe him anything. not an explanation, not an apology. nothing." you wanted to fight back, to argue with him, but the weight of everything had worn you down. maybe jungwon was right. maybe time would heal it, or at least make it easier to bear.
the guilt and shame wouldn’t go away overnight, but maybe you could deal with it when the time came. maybe when things weren’t so fresh. for now, you’d have to let it go. at least for a little while.
"you don’t get it," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "i need to apologize. i need to make things right with him."
"not right now, you don’t." jungwon’s fingers curled around your wrist, pulling you closer to him. his voice softened, but there was that possessiveness still lingering in every word. "you’ll deal with it when you’re ready. but not now."
you let out a shaky breath, leaning into him, the warmth of his touch soothing the storm of emotions inside you. it was hard to let go of the guilt, but the pull of jungwon was stronger—always had been. maybe time would heal the wounds, maybe someday you’d be able to face jay. you would apologize to him. one day.
jungwon tilted your chin up, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, one that slowly deepened, and you let yourself melt into it. the warmth of his body, the way his hand cradled the back of your neck—it was enough to quiet your mind, to let the guilt slip away, if only for a moment.
when the kiss broke, jungwon’s eyes were dark, full of that same need, one that you had grown addicted to. his thumb brushed over your lips. "you don’t need to deal with him right now. not when he’s just going to say shit to hurt you."
you hesitated for a second, but as jungwon’s lips found yours again, as his hands slipped down your waist, you were convinced. maybe you were just being true to yourself, following what you wanted, even if it came with consequences.
"okay," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.
jungwon smiled, a small, satisfied smirk that sent a thrill through you. he knew he had you.
"good girl." he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed your neck, slow and deliberate.
jungwon was in the kitchen, apron on, focused on flipping the eggs just right. the sound of sizzling filled the space, and the familiar smell of breakfast hung in the air.
this had become routine, the comfortable quiet that came from knowing you were still sound asleep in his bed, wrapped up in his shirt, your playful remarks slowly making a comeback, the little jabs at each other that made things feel normal again.
it took a while, but you were both taking it step by step.
he smiled to himself as he wiped his hands on a towel, stepping toward the hallway. he quietly peeked into the room—his room now, really. there you were, tangled in the sheets, looking peaceful, beautiful as always. jungwon lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, his heart swelling at the sight of you. it felt right.
because you belonged there, with him.
a knock echoed through the house.
jungwon takes off his apron and tossed it on the kitchen counter but not before turning the stove off, moving toward the door. the knock came again, sharper this time. "just a second," he called out.
he opened it.
standing there, dressed casually—loose jeans and a black band shirt, a faded logo barely visible on the front. the figure was hunched slightly, typing something on their phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen.
staring down at his phone, brow furrowed in concentration, before slowly lifting his gaze. their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
jay.
neither spoke. jay’s face was hard to read. jungwon didn’t say a word, but his body tensed, eyes locked on jay’s. both of them just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them, thick and heavy in the air.
and then, as if on cue, the phone in jungwon’s back pocket vibrated. the sound was subtle but sharp, breaking the silence.
jay’s eyes flickered down to jungwon’s pocket.
jungwon’s lips twitched, and slowly, a smirk spread across his face.
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