Hi could you do one where the salesman and the reader she would see him playing games with people on the subway.she asks to give it go when she loses she admits to not having money.she tells him he could slap her like the other people.he tells her to closes her eyes and he gives her a kiss on the lips instead.
The subway cars sped through the tunnels, the fluorescent lights above flickering intermittently. You sat in one of the worn seats by the side, headphones in but no music playing, your mind wandering. It had been another rough day—your wallet was nearly empty, your rent overdue, and your stomach growled quietly in protest of your skipped meals.
Across the aisle, a commotion drew your attention. A man in a perfectly tailored gray suit sat with a briefcase on his lap, the corners of his mouth turned up in a grin. He held two paper tiles—one red, one blue—and was flipping them against the tiled floor of the station, demonstrating some sort of game to an unlucky passenger.
"Flip it over," he encouraged, handing the other man a matching tile.
The stranger tried, snapping his wrist to make the paper land forcefully, but it didn’t budge the man’s tile. The suited man’s smirk grew. "That’s a loss."
The man hesitated, a nervous laugh escaping as he reached into his pocket for cash. The suited man waved his hand dismissively. "No money? Then pay in another way." Before the loser could ask what he meant, a loud smack echoed in the subway car as the suited man slapped him clean across the face. The man winced but laughed it off as he walked away, a red imprint blooming on his cheek.
Despite yourself, you leaned forward, curiosity sparking. Others in the subway glanced away, unwilling to engage, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from him. His grin widened when he noticed you watching.
"You want to try?" he called out, tilting his head slightly.
You froze, caught like a deer in headlights. His gaze was sharp, almost predatory, but there was an odd charm behind his smirk. Your heart thumped loudly as you stood up, crossing the aisle despite your better judgment.
"How does it work?" you asked, trying to sound braver than you felt.
"It’s simple," he said, holding up the tiles. "If you can flip my tile with yours, you win. If not, you lose. Each round has a price—money, if you have it. If not…" He let the sentence hang, his smirk telling you exactly what the alternative was.
"I’ll try," you said.
The game began. He handed you the blue tile while he used the red. You lined up your shot, snapping the paper against the floor. It made a satisfying thwap but didn’t move his tile an inch.
"Your turn," he said, flipping the tile with practiced ease.
Round after round, he won. The frustration began to mount as you lost again and again, your tile barely grazing his. By the end, your palms were sweaty, and your confidence had vanished.
"Well," he said, leaning back against the subway wall, "that’s a lot of losses. How do you plan to pay?"
Your face flushed. You didn’t have a single coin to your name, let alone enough to cover all the rounds you’d just lost. Stammering, you admitted, "I… I don’t have any money."
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to glimmer with interest. "No money?"
"I-I can pay like the others," you blurted out, feeling ridiculous even as you said it. "You can slap me."
The words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt the stares of a few nearby passengers. You looked down, embarrassed, your fists clenched tightly at your sides.
Then, he laughed—a low, almost amused chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. "Slap you?" he echoed, as though the idea itself was absurd. He leaned closer, his voice softening. "Close your eyes."
You hesitated but obeyed, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the rumble of the train. You braced yourself for the sting of his palm against your cheek.
Instead, something warm and soft pressed against your lips.
Your eyes snapped open, and you found him inches from your face, his lips brushing against yours for just a second longer before he pulled back, his smirk more wicked than ever.
"Payment accepted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.
You stared at him, completely stunned. Words failed you as your mind scrambled to process what had just happened.
He stood, smoothing the lapels of his suit as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "Here," he said, slipping it into your hand.
You looked down at the card—a simple design with a circle, triangle, and square printed in bold black ink. "What is this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
"An invitation," he said, stepping past you toward the subway doors. As they opened, he glanced over his shoulder, his grin sharp and enigmatic. "Call the number when you’re ready to play a real game."
And with that, he disappeared into the station, leaving you clutching the card in your trembling hand, your lips still tingling from his kiss.
Hear me out, reader is also undercover during the squid games (season one) and detective Jun-Ho finds out and they have to keep calm and try to not blow their cover.🥱
Anyways, love your fics
A/n: ooo girl that's a good idea 😭 enjoy this lovely 👻
The green tracksuit was itchy. And I mean itchy. The way the yarn unraveled and scratched against your skin made your spine shiver.
It clung to your skin like regret, and that wasn’t even the worst part. It was the constant surveillance. The suffocating fear. The fact that if anyone found out who you really were, you’d be dead long before the next game started.
You weren’t here by choice. Well, Not really. The higher-ups sent you in without backup, without support, and sure as hell without permission to fail. You were here to uncover what was happening behind the scenes. To get names. Evidence. Anything.
But you weren’t alone.
You caught him watching you during the first game. Not in a creepy way...more like... cautious recognition. The kind that made your stomach twist.
You saw Detective Hwang during meal time after red light green light. Everyone was too scared and anxious to take notice of you staring at the guard in the corner.
He was hovering over you, gun on your back. Perhaps he was...protecting you? Either way, you didn't feel protected. Not when you had hundreds of masked men pointing guns at you.
You remembered him from training seminars back in Busan. He had no idea you were part of the agency then. And you had no idea he’d be here now, dressed in that black mask and uniform, pretending like he belonged. Like he wasn’t walking the same knife’s edge you were.
You didn’t approach him. Not at first. Not until you went to the bathroom during lights out, when the power flickered, and you murmured just loud enough for only him to hear, “You shouldn’t be here.”
He flinched.
Paused.
Then, without turning his head, he whispered back, “Neither should you, you're a player for fucks sake. You can die.” His voice was low, practically from the gut.
You froze, jaw semi clenched. "I can take care of myself." You muttered through your teeth. "You take care of yourself,"
With that said, you walked back into the main hall to continue the deadly games.
However, that was just the beginning of your silent alliance. You started seeing him more. You didn't know how you could detect him, but you did. You always knew.
You met in passing—bathroom corridors, back stairwells, sometimes in the lingj line if you dared. You didn’t have time for plans, just quick glances, subtle gestures. A finger twitch. A glance toward the cameras. A shake of the head that said, Not now.
During the second game, when you almost got shot for having a slight crack in your star, he was the one who pulled the trigger on another contestant to keep suspicion off you.
Later that night, you cornered him in the storage room that was located near the bathroom.
“I didn’t need your help,” you hissed, voice low, teeth clenched.
“You’re welcome,” he said flatly, before pulling off his mask just enough for you to see his eyes. “You slip up again, you’re dead. And if you blow my cover, so am I.”
“Guess we’re both on the same countdown then,” you muttered.
He stared at you for a long time before leaning in. “Just… stay alive.”
That night was the worst.
The riot started. Screams. Blood. Bodies everywhere.
You were on the floor, using a metal tray as a pathetic shield when a hand yanked you behind one of the bunks.
Jun-Ho.
How the hell did he get here? It was dark, but surely people had seen the pink uniform on him.
He pressed you flat to the floor, arm shielding your head, the warmth of his body grounding you as chaos erupted around you.
Your breath hitched. You hadn’t felt this close to anyone in months.
“You good?” he asked, lips near your ear.
“No,” you breathed. “But I’ll live.”
When the lights came back on, his hand stayed wrapped around yours for a beat too long. He glanced at you before running to the front and putting on his act of the pink guards again.
It all unraveled when the Front Man started getting suspicious. He was watching the guards too closely. You noticed the change.
And Jun-Ho noticed you noticing.
You met one last time in the bathroom. His mask was off since he was washing his face with the water from the sink.
“They’re onto me,” he said quietly, voice tight with urgency. “I need to get out. Tonight.”
“What about me?” you asked, trying not to sound scared.
He hesitated. His eyes scanned your face like he was memorizing it. “You make it out of this alive. That’s your job. Mine’s getting the evidence out.”
“You’ll die,” you whispered. “You don’t have to play the hero.”
He gave a soft, bitter laugh. “Neither do you. But here we are.”
Then, without warning, he kissed you.
Quick. Desperate. Like it was the only moment he’d have—and he wanted to leave something behind.
“I’ll find you,” he said as he pulled away. “If I survive this.” He didn't sound so confident as he put back on his mask.
And just like that, he disappeared into the dark corridor.
.・。.・゜✭・
It’s been two days. In other words, two games. Tug of war, and marbles.
Two long, empty days since Jun-Ho vanished.
You haven’t seen him in the halls. Haven’t caught the flicker of his eyes behind a mask. Haven’t heard his voice in the low hum of night. And now… the silence is beginning to scream. It became too loud.
You keep your head down, but your mind is somewhere else. Wondering if the ocean swallowed him already. If they found his body. If they tortured him first.
If they’re watching you now, too.
You almost slip, twice.
The first time is during a meal, when you stare too long at one of the masked guards, searching for something familiar in the way he stands. The second was in the main hall, when you jolt awake from a dream where Jun-Ho’s hand slipped out of yours, blood on both of your palms.
You wake up in a cold sweat.
You need to move. If he’s alive, he’s out there. And if not…
You’ll finish what you both started.
Later that night, you slip out of your bed and ask for the bathroom to get in the vents, wanting to go toward the lower levels.
You’ve memorized the path: kitchen...storage...hidden hall behind the laundry chute. It’s dangerous. Reckless. But you don’t care. You’ve got a burner USB drive in your waistband and a plan forming.
But you freeze when you see a guard standing right in front of the incinerator doors.
He turns slightly.
Not to attack. Not to speak. Just a slow, precise movement.
And then his hand brushes his hip.
Once.
And twice.
Your breath catches.
It’s your signal.
Jun-Ho.
You follow him into the narrow corridor where the cameras glitch every seven minutes—just like he told you. The moment the metal door swings shut behind you, he rips off his mask and pulls you against him.
You don’t kiss. You collapse into him.
“Jesus Christ,” you whisper into his chest. “I thought you were dead.”
“Almost,” he mutters, voice low and hoarse. “Got out through the waste chute. Hid on the rocks for two days. Swam around the cliff. I couldn’t risk contact until the shift schedule changed.”
You look up at him, your hand brushing the bruise on his cheek. “You’re bleeding.”
“You should see the other guy,” he says, and for a second, the corner of his lip twitches like he might smile. But it fades just as fast. “They’re onto us. You were right.”
Your heart stutters. “Do they know about me?”
“No,” he says, “but they will. And soon.”
You nod slowly, already forming the next plan in your head.
“Come with me,” he says, breath quickening. “Tonight. There’s a boat I stashed with the coast guard’s gear. I can get us both out.”
You pause.
“Jun-Ho… I have evidence. The names. The footage. You get me out now, it dies with us.”
His jaw clenches. “I’m not letting you die in here.”
“Then help me finish this. One more game. I just need to get to the final.”
His voice is gravel and desperation. “And what if you don’t?”
You step closer. “Then you get out anyway. You release what you have. You burn them down.”
A long silence stretches between you. Finally, he nods, but just once.
“Alright. One more game, and then the final. But you don’t go dark on me again, understood?”
You smirk faintly, even as your eyes sting. “Same to you, detective.”
And for one moment, beneath the buzz of death and chaos, you kiss him. Soft. Slow. Like it might be the last time.
Because it might be.
.・゜゜・
It’s the last game.
The arena smells like rain and concrete and blood long dried.
Your body’s wrecked. You haven’t slept. Haven’t eaten much. There’s a gash above your eyebrow and bruises blooming across your ribs. But you made it. Barely.
The Front Man’s voice cuts through the still air.
“Final round. One winner.”
You stare at your opponent. He’s desperate. Shaking. You recognize the look in his eyes—you’ve had it too. Except he’s here for money.
You’re here to end this.
You hold back just enough during the fight. Let him believe he's winning. But you’ve trained for worse. And when he lunges, you sidestep, grab his arm, and slam him into the wet ground.
One move. One scream. One broken neck.
Silence.
You gasped, strapping back as rain trickles down your arms. You looked away from disgust when you saw blood pooling around your opponents lifeless body. You almost gagged.
You’re announced as the winner. Applause thunders from unseen speakers. Blood pools around your shoes.
And then, just before the guards approach, you reach into the lining of your suit and flick the tiny switch on the transmitter hidden in your sleeve.
“Jun-Ho, do you copy?” you whisper, barely moving your lips. “I’m in.”
Static.
Then his voice was heard.
"Copy. Boat’s in position. We’ve got less than 15 minutes.”
You’re escorted into the winner’s lounge. Fancy meal. Gold trim. Surveillance everywhere.
You fake compliance. Nod politely. Eat the steak for a second time, not that you mind. But under the table, you’re inserting the USB drive into a hidden panel beneath the seat cushion, a blind spot Jun-Ho mapped out from a stolen blueprint.
You press record, your hands shaking
Suddenly, the door clicks. And the Front Man walks in.
“Congratulations,” he says coolly, mask glinting under the lights. “You played well.” his voice is deep, similar to Jun-Ho's
You force a smile. “Just lucky, I guess.”
He tilts his head. “Funny thing… your background check came back clean. Too clean.”
Your heart spikes.
“Dead parents, no next of kin, no digital footprint before 2017. Makes me wonder…”
You stand slowly, fists clenched. “Maybe I’m just nobody.”
“No one’s nobody,” he says, stepping closer. “Especially not someone who flinched when my guards mentioned the word ‘detective.’”
Shit.
You don’t even have time to speak before the guards barge in.
“Take her,” the Front Man says.
But then, gunfire.
A crash.
A loud bang as the back wall explodes open.
Jun-Ho bursts through the smoke, dressed in black, face smeared with blood and seawater, gun raised and eyes blazing.
“Step away from her.”
The guards react too slow. He shoots one in the leg, kicks the weapon from another’s hand, and tosses you a spare pistol.
You catch it without hesitation.
“Took you long enough,” you growl. “Missed me?” he quips. “Like a bullet to the head.” you scoffed, grabbing his arm and dashing out the guarded room.
In a couple minutes, you make it to the tunnel. The boat. The sea.
And just as you collapse in the back of the vessel, adrenaline fading, you finally look at him.
He’s breathing hard. Shaking.
But he’s here.
You lean in and press your forehead to his. “We did it.” He exhales. “No. You did.” You laugh, staring at him. "Oh shut up-"
With a small smirk, he kisses you like the war’s over. Like you both survived something no one else ever could. Like he’d do it all again if it meant finding you on the other side.
When you reach the main land, your quick to get the files leaked, and the games exposed.
Police are quick with the arrests, headlines, and whistleblowers.
However, there's still people loose so you’re forced into hiding, and so is Jun-Ho.
But at night, when the world is quiet, and you lie beside him in that small apartment by the sea… you know one thing for certain.
You didn’t just survive.
You won.
The hideout is silent except for the rain.
It hits the windows in soft taps, the kind that used to lull you to sleep. But not tonight. Tonight, you're restless—awake in a worn-out T-shirt, pacing quietly in the dim kitchen as the smell of sea salt lingers on your skin.
Behind you, Jun-Ho leans against the doorway, watching.
“You’re still up,” he murmurs, voice gravelly from sleep.
“So are you,” you reply without turning.
He crosses the space between you slowly, like a hunter who already knows his prey won’t run.
“You did it, you know,” he says quietly, brushing his knuckles against your wrist. “Exposed them. Saved lives.”
You shake your head. “I didn’t save anyone. I just survived. And I killed innocent people..." You whispered.
He tilts your chin toward him. “That’s enough. For now.”
You hate how easily he reads you. How quickly you melt under his gaze. But you don’t pull away, not when he steps closer, not when his fingers curl gently under the hem of your shirt.
“Jun-Ho…” you whisper.
He silences you with a soft kiss.
Not rushed. Not hungry. Just… warm.
The kind that says you’re safe now.
Later, you’re tangled in bedsheets and tension.
His hand trails slowly down your spine. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong anymore.”
You let out a shaky laugh. “You saying I’m weak?”
“I’m saying,” he murmurs, lips brushing your collarbone, “you can fall apart with me. Just this once.”
Your fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants.
“You offering to help with that?”
He smirks against your skin. “I’m a detective. It’s my job to solve problems.”
You roll on top of him, your thighs straddling his hips as the rain thickens outside.
“Then you’d better start investigating,” you whisper, bending down to kiss him again—deeper, slower.
And when his hands slide up your thighs, your breath catches and your body arches into him.
He pulls away, reaching out and gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. "I want this to be a place of comfort and joy for you," he murmured. "A place where you feel safe and loved."
His inner personality shone through in the tenderness of his touch, the sincerity of his words. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I want to make you happy. In every way possible."
You give a soft smile, pressing yet another kiss to his lips. His heart raced as you kissed him, your lips soft and eager against his. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as he deepened the kiss. In that moment, everything else faded away the grandeur of the room, the unusual circumstances of your relationship, the cold exterior he usually wore. There was only you, and the warmth and passion that ignited between you.
As the kiss ended, Jun-Ho rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft pants. "Love, " he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and desire. "You undo me. In the best possible way."
He trailed his fingers down your spine, his touch gentle and exploring. "Stay with me tonight and maybe forever..." he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck. "Let me show you the depths of my affection, the heights of my passion. Let me love you, completely and utterly."
You blinked slowly. Was... Was this his confession?
"About time you confessed you loved me..." You whisper breathlessly, his lingering lips on your neck.
Jun-Ho's heart soared at your whispered words, a surge of joy and possessiveness washing over him. He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with yours. The usual coldness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a warmth and intensity that stole your breath.
"I always have," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "You're mine.My lover, my everything. I'll cherish you, protect you, and love you with every fiber of my being."
He swept you up into his arms, laying you down, he began to undress you slowly, his touch reverent and adoring. "I'm going to worship every inch of you," he murmured, his lips trailing along your collarbone.
You flickered your eyes down, staring at his hair. You could feel his lips curve into a soft smile as he felt your gaze on him, your gentle whimper sending a shiver of desire down his spine. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with passion and affection. "You like my hair, don't you?" he murmured, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I'm glad. Because I love every inch of you, princess. Your hair, your eyes, your smile... I want to memorize every detail, every curve, every sound you make."
His hands continued their slow, sensual exploration of your body, his touch gentle yet firm. He trailed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, pausing to nip lightly at the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder. "Tell me what you like," he murmured against your skin. "Tell me how to please you."
"Slow, baby.. Slow..." You whisper, your breath in gasps. He nodded, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, "Slow. Of course, my love."
He took his time, his touches gentle and deliberate. He explored every inch of you, committing each curve and contour to memory. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake. He took his time with your breasts, lavishing attention on each one until you were arching beneath him, your breath coming in soft pants.
As he continued his slow descent, he paused at the apex of your thighs. He looked up at you, his gaze intense and filled with love. "You're so beautiful, my love," he murmured, his breath warm against your most intimate place.
You whined, biting your lip and looking down at him. "Baby, I haven't washed up, you don't want to do that."
His eyes softened at your concern, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh, his gaze never leaving yours. "Shh, my love," he murmured. "I want all of you. Every part of you is perfect to me."
He leaned in, his breath warm against your folds. "Besides," he added, a hint of playfulness in his tone, "I rather like the idea of tasting you, just as you are. Unadulterated, and pure." He moaned out.
With that, he parted your folds with his fingers, his tongue delving deep into your core. He explored you slowly, savoring your unique flavor, your soft moans and whimpers. You gasp, your hands immediately grabbing into his hair to tug. You moaned softly, closing your eyes and pressing further into the large king sized bed.
He redoubled his efforts, his tongue swirling and stroking, his lips sucking gently on your most sensitive spot. The sounds of your pleasure filled the room, music to his ears.
He slid one hand up your body, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he continued his sensual assault. He could feel you tensing, your breath coming in short gasps as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.
"That's it, my love," he murmured against your flesh, his voice vibrating through you.
You roll your hips to the point your clit rubbed on his nose. "Oh shit..." You moan, teasing your other nipple.
Jun-Ho's arousal spiked at the sight of you teasing your own nipples, your hips grinding against his face. He growled softly, the sound muffled by your folds as he redoubled his efforts. He sucked hard on your clit, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bud.
"That's it," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Take what you need. Use me. I'm yours."
He slid two fingers inside you, curling them upwards to stroke that sensitive spot deep within. His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet heat. He could feel you tightening around him, your body tensing as you approached your peak.
"I'm gonna-" you gasp.
His heart pounded as he felt you teetering on the edge, your body trembling beneath his touch. "That's it, my love," he urged, his voice low and encouraging. "Come for me. Let me feel you shatter."
He sucked hard on your clit, his fingers pumping furiously as he pushed you over the edge. Your cries of ecstasy filled the room as your orgasm crashed over you in a squirt, your body convulsing with pleasure. Jun-Ho continued his ministrations, drawing out your release until you collapsed back onto the bed, spent and satisfied.
He crawled up your body, kissing and caressing you gently as he went.
He watched you bask in the aftermath of your pleasure. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.
He settled beside you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. He trailed his fingers along your spine, his touch gentle and soothing. "I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "More than I ever thought possible."
He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "Sleep now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."
"Promise?"
He tightened his arms around you, his voice filled with sincerity and love. "Promise," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I'll always be here for you. Always."
He settled back against the pillows, holding you close as he listened to your breathing even out. As sleep claimed you, Jun-Ho stayed awake, watching over you with a tenderness that surprised even him. He knew, in that moment, that he would move heaven and earth to keep you safe and happy.
With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as he drifted off to sleep, his lover safe and warm in his arms.
The click of the front door was soft, elegant... just like him.
You stood by the window, staring at the glass without seeing your reflection. The city lights danced across the skyline, taunting you with a freedom you hadn’t felt in years. Behind you, the sound of polished shoes tapped across the marble floor. Heavy and loud.
He was home.
“Darling,” his voice called out, velvet and calm. “We have a guest.”
Guest? Your brows furrowed as you turned.
And then you saw her. You're eyes dropped slightly and your posture tensed.
She stepped in beside him, clutching his arm like he was some movie star. She was younger, maybe mid-twenties, with big, gleaming eyes and the kind of soft smile people wore before they learned what love really was.
You blinked. Once. Twice.
“Who is that?” you asked, voice steadier than the storm behind your ribs. A part of you was nervous for his reply.
He just smiled. That same tight, unreadable smile he wore when offering strangers the slap of their life for a few won.
“This is Ji-ah,” he said. “My second wife.”
Silence dropped like a guillotine. You could hear a pin drop. It was an eerie feeling.
“I didn’t agree to—”
“You didn’t have to.” He turned toward you, placing his hand gently on the small of her back. “You’re not being replaced, jagiya. Don’t be dramatic.” He chuckled, pulling her a tad bit closer.
Ji-ah gave you a small, awkward bow. “I’ve heard so much about you. He said you’re the perfect wife.”
Your jaw clenched. “Then why does he need another?”
Your fast reply made her flinch like you’d struck her. But he? He only chuckled softly, unbothered. Almost as if he was enjoying the pain you were experiencing.
“Love,” he said, walking past you and toward the parlor, “is not a pie. One slice doesn’t mean less for the other.”
You followed slowly, footsteps echoing behind his, like a shadow that refused to disappear. Your brows furrowed as you took in his words. His explanation made no sense.
He made no sense.
He poured Ji-ah a drink first. Of course. The same crystal decanter he used for your anniversary just three months ago. The scent of expensive bourbon filled the air.
“I thought you hated sharing,” you said, arms crossing.
“I do.” His eyes flicked up to you. “But she’s not you. She’s something else. This is... an experiment.” He expressed, his hand doing motions around him.
You laughed bitterly. “Is this another game to you?”
He tilted his head, eyes sharp with something cold, like he’d been waiting for you to ask that. With a soft smirk, he replied coldly.
“My entire life is a game,” he said. “You know that. And you? You’ve always played your part beautifully.” He whispered while stepping loser to push a loose strand of hair back.
Ji-ah looked between the two of you, clearly out of her depth, or pretending to be. You couldn’t decide which was worse.
“But why now?” you asked. “Why bring her into our home?”
“Because I can,” he replied simply. “And because I wanted to see what you'd do. Would you fight? Cry? Leave?”
He leaned forward slightly, voice low and intimate.
“Or would you stay, knowing that I will kiss her like I kissed you, touch her like I touched you… but never truly love her the way I loved you first?”
Your chest tightened. The way he said loved, past tense.
Ji-ah reached for his hand then, as if that would calm the room, but he didn’t flinch. He let her. You watched his fingers brush hers gently, then curl around them like a secret.
It was the kind of touch he hadn’t offered you in weeks.
Maybe months.
You stood there, frozen, the first wife in a kingdom that no longer crowned queens.
And then, he glanced at you again.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured. “You’ll always be mine, jagi. You were just… first.”
Over time, you had learned to ignore them. Well, tried to.
It was hard to ignore the sound of laughter that echoed from the garden.
You stood in the hallway, hidden behind the frame of the door like some kind of ghost in your own home. Ji-ah’s giggle floated through the air, light, girlish, too sweet. It clung to your skin like syrup and bile.
Quite frankly, it made you sick to your stomach.
And his voice… deep, amused, affectionate.
You hadn't heard him laugh like that in weeks.
Your hand curled against the wall, nails biting into your palm. And knuckles turning white.
“She said I was funny,” he said over dinner last night. “You used to say that too. Before you got so… serious.”
You had wanted to scream. Instead, you nodded and swallowed the ache like wine: bitter, expensive, and aging poorly.
Now, Ji-ah sat on the garden bench with him, smiling up as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. That gesture used to be yours.
Your eyes straining as you attempted to decode what she was wearing,it looked familiar. That's when it hit you...she was wearing your old robe.
The ivory silk one he gave you when you moved into the house together. The one that had your initials stitched faintly on the collar. It looked better on you. You wanted to rip it off her like paper.
Your feet moved without thinking. Into the garden and toward the scene.
“Oh!” Ji-ah blinked when she saw you, scrambling to her feet like a child caught stealing.
He remained seated, eyes flicking up lazily. “You’re up early.”
It was nearly noon. His non-expressive tone made your jaw clench. How could he forget his own wife was an early bird?
You ignored her and looked directly at him. “We need to talk.”
He exhaled through his nose and stood, brushing imaginary dust off his slacks. “Ji-ah. Give us a moment.”
She hesitated, then bowed slightly before retreating inside. Her perfume lingered behind, something floral and young. You missed the days he liked your scent best.
He turned to you slowly. “Well?”
“What is this, really?” you whispered. “Is she a toy? A weapon? A test?”
His brows rose, lips twitching slightly. “Does it matter?”
“It does if I’m still your wife.”
“You are.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “She didn’t take your ring.”
“But she took everything else.”
You stepped closer. “She took your mornings. Your voice. Your hands. Your attention.”
His gaze darkened, just a shade.
“You’re angry,” he observed, almost pleased. “I was wondering how long it would take.”
“This isn’t a game,” you snapped.
“But it is. Everything’s a game. You just don’t like that you’re losing.”
You stared at him, blinking through the blur threatening your vision.
“I loved you,” you said quietly.
“I know.”
Then he stepped close, closer than he had in days, until his lips brushed your ear.
“But love, jagiya… has never stopped me before.”
And he walked past you.
That night, you lay in the cold silence of your shared bed, staring at the ceiling.
The wall was thin enough for you to hear her laugh again from down the hall.
Then her moan.
You turned your face into the pillow, biting down on the fabric so hard your teeth hurt. You wanted to scream. To claw. To bleed.
But all you did was lie there.
Still.
Forgotten.
Until the next morning.
When Ji-ah came to you, her voice low, her hands trembling, her lip split.
“He hurt me,” she whispered.
“I thought he was gentle.”
You stared at her. And for the first time…
You smiled.
That was the first time Ji-ah cried in front of you. And it was quiet.
A split lip, a faint tremble in her hands as she sat at the kitchen counter. She practically ran to you, like she knew instinctively where the safety was.
“He... he got upset,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I said something wrong.”
You said nothing at first.
You just passed her the ice.
And watched.
She held it to her face, fingers trembling like bird wings.
“He didn’t mean it,” she added quickly, with a nervous gulp “He said I talk too much, that I make the house too loud. But he didn’t mean it.”
You tilted your head, lips pursed.
“Of course not,” you said softly. “He gets overwhelmed. He’s very… particular.” A sigh escaped your lips, remembering the days he would slap you as if you were a contestant of the games.
The nights he gripped your arms and left bruises that stayed for days, maybe weeks.
She sniffled. “I’m trying my best.”
“I know,” you replied, laying your hand on hers. “I see how hard you try.” lies. All lies.
She looked at you then, eyes watery. “Does he… even love me?”
You paused.
This is it. This is the chance.
Then gave her a sad smile.
“No.”
That night, you brought her tea. Not poisoned, of course. God, no. It was just warm. Calming.
Even so, she hesitated before sipping.
“I used to think I could change him too,” you admitted softly, gazing at the steam. “Thought if I loved him enough, he’d soften. Become… normal.”
Ji-ah’s lips parted. “But he didn’t?”
You met her eyes.
“No. He loved how I broke for him.”
She swallowed. “He told me I was different from you.”
You nodded. “He said the same thing to me about the last one.”
Her brows furrowed. “The last—?”
You placed your teacup down carefully. “He always finds someone sweet. Gentle. Someone who thinks they can fix him.”
She went silent.
“He’ll love you hard,” you continued, voice low and careful. “Until you start cracking. Then he’ll blame you for the pieces.”
Ji-ah stared down at her tea like it might explain everything.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered.
You reached for her hand again. “You don’t deserve this.” A fake, but sweet, smile tugged at your lips. It showed Ji-ah comfort... But for you, it showed that you were winning.
She blinked. “But you… you stayed.”
A pause.
“Yes.” Because I love him.
But you don’t say that part aloud.
Instead, you lean in. “Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
The next morning, Ji-ah was packing.
You found her folding clothes with red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands.
“He was sweet when I first met him,” she murmured. “Like something out of a novel. Charming. Perfect.”
You leaned on the doorway. “That’s how he traps you.”
She nodded. “But not you.”
You gave a sad smile. “I’m not trapped. I chose this.”
She looked at you, quiet. “Why?”
You shrugged gently. “Because I can take what you can’t.”
A silence passed between you.
And then she whispered, “Will he be mad I left?”
You stepped forward, brushing her hair behind her ear like he used to do to you.
“No,” you said softly. “He’ll miss you. But he’ll stay with me.”
That night, he came home to find you alone in the living room, curled up on the couch in your robe.
“She’s gone?” he asked, removing his coat.
You nodded.
He tilted his head, observing you carefully. “Why?”
You looked up at him, your voice barely a whisper.
“She couldn’t handle you.”
You're eyes were dark, manipulative if you will.
A long pause. His eyes darkened just a touch. He stepped forward, and for the first time in weeks, he cupped your cheek.
“And you?” he murmured.
You smiled.
“I was always built to stay."
His eyes narrow slightly at your words, a flicker of something unrecognizable passing through them. He stares at you for a long moment, his gaze piercing and intense. Then, without warning, he reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
"You think you can handle me?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you're strong enough to stay by my side, no matter what?"
His thumb brushes against your lower lip, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. His face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.
"Prove it," he whispers, his eyes burning into yours. "Show me that you're not like the others. Show me that you can truly be mine."
His grip on your chin tightens slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity in his gaze is overwhelming, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.
"Or maybe," he says, his voice barely audible, "You're just like all the others. Weak. Fragile. Easily broken."
He releases your chin abruptly and turns away, walking towards the window. He stands with his back to you, his shoulders tense.
"I don't have time for games," he says coldly. "If you truly want to stay by my side, then you need to prove your worth. Show me that you can handle whatever I throw at you."
"How should I prove it to you?" A soft whisper escaped your lips.
He turns back to face you, his expression unreadable. He studies you for a long moment, his gaze piercing and intense. Then, without a word, he begins to unbutton his shirt.
Your eyes widen slightly and you're body seems to have frozen.
"Come here," he commands, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.
As you hesitate, he raises an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his eyes.
"Are you afraid?" he asks, his tone mocking. "Or are you truly willing to do whatever it takes to prove yourself?"
He shrugs off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and abs. He's a work of art, sculpted by years of discipline and power.
"Show me that you can handle my touch," he says softly, holding out his hand. "Come here and touch me. Explore every inch of my body."
He waits, his hand outstretched, his eyes locked on yours. The challenge is clear: prove yourself worthy by accepting his touch and exploring his body.
"I don't bite," he says with a hint of a smirk, though the coldness in his eyes suggests otherwise. "Unless you want me to."
The tension in the room is palpable, the air thick with unspoken desires and expectations. Your husbands offer is a test of your commitment, your willingness to submit to his dominance and explore the depths of your relationship.
"So," he prompts again, his hand still extended. "Are you ready to prove yourself? Or will you back down now?"
With hesitation, you walked over slowly, putting your hands out to caress his abdomen.
He watches you approach, his eyes never leaving yours. As your hands make contact with his abdomen, he sucks in a sharp breath, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. He's warm to the touch, his skin smooth and firm.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and approving. "Now explore. Touch every inch of me."
He stands still, allowing you to roam your hands over his chest and abs. You trace the lines with your fingertips.
As you continue to explore, his breathing grows heavier. He reaches out and grabs your wrists, stopping your movements. He pulls you closer until your bodies are flush against each other.
"Do you feel that?" he asks, his voice husky. His growing member was pressed against your thigh, making your breath hitch. "That's what you do to me. That's how much I want you."
He releases your wrists and reaches up to cup your face in his hands.
His hands are gentle as he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, his pupils dilated. He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.
"You're mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "Only mine. And you're such h a good fucking girl for manipulating her to leave."
You flushed. How could he possibly know? He chuckled at your expression. "What? Thought I wouldn't find out?..." He teased.
"I created you. I know everything..."
Then he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. It's demanding and possessive, claiming your mouth as his own. His tongue sweeps inside, exploring every inch of you.
One hand slides down to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. The other tangles in your hair, holding you in place as he devours you.
When he finally pulls away, you're both breathing heavily. He rests his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.
"That's just the beginning," he murmurs. "I'm going to push you to your limits and beyond. I'm going to make you scream my name until it's the only thing you know."
"That's what I've been asking for since she got here" you spat,
His eyes flash with anger at your words. He grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.
"Don't you dare compare yourself to her," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "She was a mistake. A fleeting moment of weakness. You are my wife. My equal. My partner."
He releases your chin and steps back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"I brought her here because I thought it would push you, challenge you," he admits, his tone softer but still tense. "I wanted to see if you truly loved me, if you were willing to fight for me."
He looks at you, his gaze intense and searching.
"And you have," he says quietly. "You've proven yourself time and again. You've shown me that you're strong, resilient, and fiercely loyal."
He reaches out and takes your hand in his, his touch gentle despite the tension in his body.
"Now let me show you how much I appreciate you, hm?" You gulped, nodding at his demanding words.
His expression softens at your nod. He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours.
"Good," he murmurs. "I'm going to take care of you now. I'm going to worship every inch of your body and show you just how much you mean to me."
He kisses you deeply, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that belies the intensity in his eyes. His hands roam over your back, pulling you flush against him.
Without breaking the kiss, he lifts you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you upstairs to the bedroom, his steps sure and purposeful.
He lays you down on the bed gently, hovering over you. His eyes rake over your body hungrily.
"You're so beautiful," he whispers. "So perfect."
He begins to undress you slowly, kissing each inch of skin he reveals. He takes his time, savoring every moment, every touch.
As he removes the last of your clothing, he sits back on his heels, admiring the sight of you spread out beneath him.
"I'm going to make love to you. Slowly and gently, until you're trembling with need. I want to bring you to the edge of pleasure again and again, until you're begging for release."
He leans down and captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His hands caress your body reverently, touching and exploring every curve and contour.
He trails kisses down your neck, pausing to suck gently at the pulse point. He continues downward, paying homage to your collarbone and the swell of your breasts.
As he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak, his hand slides down between your legs. He cups your mound possessively, his fingers stroking through your folds.
"You're already so wet for me," he murmurs against your skin.
"I love how responsive you are, how your body reacts to my every touch."
His fingers continue their explorations, teasing and stroking your most intimate places. He slips a finger inside you, curling it to hit that spot that makes you see stars.
"That's it, baby," he encourages softly. "Relax and let me take care of you."
He adds another finger, pumping them in and out slowly. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive nub. He keeps up the dual assault, his fingers moving in tandem with his tongue on your nipple.
All you could do was whimper, arching into his sensual touches.
He smiles against your skin at your whimper, pleased by your responsiveness. He increases the pace of his fingers, thrusting them deeper and faster inside you.
"That's right, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let me hear you. Let me know how much you want this."
He switches his attention to your other breast, lavishing it with the same attention. His tongue swirls around the nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, applying gentle pressure.
His thumb presses down on your clit, rubbing firm circles. The combination of sensations is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"Come for me," he commands softly. "I want to feel you come apart on my fingers."
His fingers pump faster, curling to hit that perfect spot inside you. His thumb presses down hard on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
"That's it, baby," he encourages, his voice low and husky. "Let go. Come for me."
With a cry of his name, you shatter. Your body convulses as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. His fingers slow their movements, gently bringing you down from your high.
"That's my good girl," he murmurs approvingly, kissing your neck softly. "You're so beautiful when you come."
He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his lips, sucking them clean.
He watches you with a hungry gaze as he sucks his fingers clean, savoring your taste. Once he's finished, he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, sharing the flavor with you.
"You taste divine," he murmurs against your mouth. "I could eat you out all day and never get enough."
He starts trailing kisses down your body again, heading south. He settles between your legs, pressing gentle kisses to your inner thighs.
"But first," he says with a wicked grin, "I'm going to feast on this sweet pussy until you're begging me to stop."
He spreads your legs wider and dives in, his tongue parting your folds and delving inside. He laps at your sensitive flesh, his tongue flat and firm as it strokes along your length.
"Fuck, I just love the way you taste," he groans, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you. With a gasp, your hands travel to his hair and tug at it.
He growls approvingly against your core as you tug at his hair, the slight pain only fueling his desire. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper inside you as he feasts on your pussy like a man starved.
"That's it, baby," he murmurs against your flesh, "Use me. Take what you need."
He sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. One hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he devours you.
His other hand slides up your body, palming your breast and pinching your nipple. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"I can feel you getting close," he says, releasing your clit with a pop. "Come on my tongue. Flood my mouth with your juices."
He seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cry out his name as you come undone, your body convulsing with pleasure.
He doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive flesh as he rides out your orgasm.
You breathe heavily as your second orgasm washes over you. You blink slowly, looking up at him. Your vision is blurry but you can see him reaching over the night stand and taking out a tiny vibrator.
You gulp nervously as you stare at him. That's when you knew this would be a long night.
He smirks as he sees the nervous gulp in your throat. He holds up the tiny vibrator, letting you get a good look at it.
The night started off innocent enough. Just a drink with your girls, some loud music, a distraction. You told yourself you were over it—over her. Over the way Se-Mi kissed you like she meant it and then laughed it off like she didn’t.
One night. That’s all it was supposed to be.
But you hadn’t stopped thinking about her since. About the way her hands felt gripping your waist, the rasp in her voice when she whispered your name, the way her breath caught when you leaned in close. The way she stared up into your eyes as you came around her tongue in ecstasy. You wanted more. You always wanted more. But she never brought it up again.
So you didn’t either.
And now? You were out, dressed like sin and sipping something too sweet. Letting loose. Letting go.
That's when you felt her.
A stare. Like a laser on your back. You turned, and your breath caught.
Se-Mi.
Leaning against the bar like she owned the place. In a black jacket and white low-cut top that made your stomach twist. Her eyes locked on yours across the crowd. She didn’t smile. Just sipped her drink slowly, watching. Always watching.
You should’ve looked away.
Instead, you grabbed the nearest pretty girl and pulled her into the mass of dancing bodies.
Her name didn’t matter. Her perfume was too sugary. But she laughed when you moved with her, grinding your hips to the beat. Her hands found your waist, her lips brushing your cheek as she whispered something you didn’t hear over the bass.
But you weren’t listening anyway. You were looking.
Straight at Se-Mi.
She didn’t look amused.
In fact, she looked like she wanted to throw the glass in her hand at the wall.
When you laughed—just a little too loud—Se-Mi moved.
You didn’t see her approach until she was right behind you. Then, in one swift movement, a strong hand clamped around your wrist.
“What the—?”
“We’re leaving,” she growled into your ear.
You spun to face her. “Excuse me?”
Her eyes were practically black with fury. “I said. We’re leaving.”
“And why would I do that?” you asked, smirking, tugging your hand back. “I’m having fun.”
“With her?” she snapped, glaring at the other girl. “You don’t even know her fucking name.”
You blinked. “Wow. Jealousy looks good on you. And she looks like Mia. ”
She scoffed. “I’m not jealous, and I doubt that's her name.”
“You literally dragged me away from a girl I was very clearly into,” you said, folding your arms. “So what does that make you? A possessive ex?”
Her face darkened. “We were never together.”
You swallowed the sting in your throat. “Right. Just friends. Who happened to fuck once and pretend it never happened.”
“That’s not—”
“But you can’t stand the thought of someone else touching me?”
She was silent for a second, breathing heavy. Then—
“Let’s talk outside.”
“No,” you said, lifting your chin. “Say it here.”
She hesitated. Then leaned in close, her lips brushing your ear.
“I’m not jealous of her,” she whispered. “I’m furious with you.”
“What? Why?” You furrowed your brows.
“Because I keep telling myself I don’t care. That it didn’t mean anything. But then I see you dancing with someone else and I want to tear the world apart.”
Your heart flipped.
Before you could respond, her hand grabbed yours again—tighter this time—and you didn’t fight it.
She quickly drove you to your apartment, dragging you into the house and slamming the door behind you. The air changed and became tense. You barely had time to breathe before she pinned you against the wall.
“You think I don’t want you?” she whispered. “You think I forgot what that night felt like?”
You swallowed hard. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t think I could have you,” she hissed. “Because if I touched you again, I wouldn’t stop. And I thought you wanted to forget.”
“I didn’t,” you said. “I just didn’t want to be the only one who remembered.”
Something in her cracked.
And then she kissed you.
Hard. Rough. Like she was mad at you. Like she was mad at herself. Her hands grabbed your face, then your waist, lifting your shirt and sliding under like she needed to feel your skin to breathe.
You moaned into her mouth, wrapping your arms around her neck as she carried you to the couch, never breaking the kiss. You fell onto it together, limbs tangled, hips grinding, every bit of space between you erased.
“I hated seeing you with her,” she whispered against your collarbone, biting gently. “I wanted to pull you away and make you remember who you belong to.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” you teased, breathless.
“Oh yeah?” Her hand slid down your thigh, slow and deliberate. “Then why are you here?”
You didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
"Cute." She mumbled, kissing down your neck, nipping at every place she could to leave marks. Se-Mi groans softly as you wrap your leg around her waist, pulling her even closer. She grinds her hips against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
Se-Mi gasps, grinding her hips further into yours with her lips latched onto your neck "Fuck, your skin feels so soft."
She kisses down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she leaves a trail of bites and kisses. Her hands roam your body, squeezing and caressing every curve and dip.
Suddenly, she lifts you up, wrapping both your legs around her waist. She carries you to her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind her. She lays you down on the bed gently, crawling on top of you. "Please... I waited too long for this." You whined, tugging at her clothes.
Se-Mi smiles, her eyes dark with desire. She sits back on her knees, slowly unbuttoning her shirt to reveal her toned chest. She shrugs off the shirt completely, tossing it aside.
"Patience, my love. We have all night." She whispers in your ear.
She leans down, kissing you deeply as she starts to unbutton your blouse. She breaks the kiss to pull the blouse off and unhook your bra, tossing it aside as well. Her eyes roam over your exposed skin, a low whistle escaping her lips.
"You're even more beautiful than I imagined."
She reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away. She leans down, pressing her bare chest against yours as she captures your lips in another searing kiss.
Se-mi's hands roam your body, caressing every inch of exposed skin. She kisses down your neck, her lips trailing fire in their wake. She reaches the swell of your breasts, pausing to look up at you, seeking permission."Can I?"
At your nod, she leans down, capturing one of your nipples in her mouth. She sucks gently, her tongue swirling around the hardened peak. Her hand kneads your other breast, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh.
She switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention. All the while, her hips grind against yours, the friction building a delicious pressure between your legs.
"Please," was all you could moan, rocking your hips. Se-Mi groans against your breast, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. She releases your nipple with a pop, kissing her way down your stomach.
"Please what, my love? Tell me what you want."
She reaches the waistband of your skirt, her fingers playing with the hem teasingly. She looks up at you, her eyes burning with desire and a hint of mischief.
"Do you want me to touch you? To taste you? To make you come undone beneath me?"
She leans in, her breath hot against your core. "Anything please, just fuck me-" You whimper loudly, rolling your hips up to her face.
Se-mi's eyes darken at your words, a primal hunger taking over. She sits up, quickly unbuttoning your skirt and pulling it down your legs along with your panties. She tosses them aside, leaving you bare and exposed.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful."
She spreads your legs, settling between them. She leans in, inhaling your scent deeply. She looks up at you, her eyes locked on yours as she leans in and runs her tongue along your slit.
"So fucking sweet."
She starts to eat you out, her tongue exploring every inch of your folds. She focuses on your clit, sucking and circling the sensitive nub. Her fingers enter you, pumping in and out in a steady rhythm.
She brings you to the edge quickly, her skilled mouth and fingers driving you wild.
With a gasp, you rolled your hips and grabbed her hair. Your clit rubbing against the tip of her nose.
"Oh shit..." You moan, bringing one hand to your breast to tease. "please baby"
Se-mi doubles her efforts, her tongue and fingers moving faster, harder. She can feel you tightening around her fingers, your body tensing as you approach the edge.
"Come for me, baby. I want to taste you, to feel you come apart on my tongue." Her voice muffled by your juices.
She curls her fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. She sucks hard on your clit, pushing you over the edge.
You scream her name as you come, your body convulsing with pleasure. Se-Mi drinks you in, her tongue lapping up every drop of your release.
As your orgasm subsides, Se-mi slowly pulls back, kissing your thigh gently. She crawls up your body, settling beside you and pulling you into her arms.
"You're incredible, you know that?"
She kisses your forehead softly, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin.
"I've dreamed of that for so long. Of tasting you again, of making you come undone."
She smiles, her eyes shining with affection and desire.
"But I'm not done with you yet. Not even close."
She kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her lips. Her hand slides down your body, between your legs, feeling you slick and ready.
"I'm going to fuck you now, my love. I'm going to make you mine in every way possible."
She reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a strap on dick from her drawer and putting it on.
You widen your eyes, looking down at her strap on. Did she buy a new one? This one was definitely bigger than before.
"Since when did you agh!-" You gasp as she shuts you up with a slap on your ass. Se-Mi chuckles, a mischievous glint in her eye as she sees your reaction. She leans in, kissing you softly.
"Surprise? I've been hiding it pretty well, huh?"
She grins, positioning herself between your legs. She runs the tip of her cock along your slit, coating herself in your wetness.
"I wanted to wait until the perfect moment to reveal it. And I think this is it."
She presses the head of her cock against your entrance, pausing to look at you.
"Is this okay? I know it's a lot to take in. But I promise, I'll be gentle."
She kisses you again, her hips pressing forward slightly, the tip of her cock slipping inside you. "Just relax, my love. Let me take care of you."
Se-Mi pushes forward slowly, giving you time to adjust to her size. She's not huge, but she's definitely bigger than the other strap on . She watches your face closely, ready to stop if you're uncomfortable.
"You're doing so well, baby. Just breathe."
Once she's fully sheathed inside you, she pauses, giving you a moment to get used to the feeling. She leans down, kissing you deeply.
"Fuck, you feel amazing. So tight, so perfect."
She starts to move slowly, her hips rolling in a gentle rhythm. She's being careful, mindful of your inexperience with penetration. Her hands roam your body, caressing and stroking every inch of you.
"Tell me how it feels. Do you like it? Do you want more?" All you could do was whimper, arching into her touch further. "you feel so good, " you moaned out breathlessly. You bring one hand to your clit, rubbing it in small circles.
Se-Mi groans at your words, her hips picking up speed slightly. She loves seeing you touch yourself, loves knowing that you're finding pleasure in her body.
"Fuck, that's so hot. Keep doing that, baby. Touch yourself for me."
She leans down, capturing one of your nipples in her mouth. She sucks and bites gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Her hand joins yours between your legs, her fingers circling your clit in sync with your own movements.
"You're so beautiful like this, so responsive. I love seeing you like this, lost in pleasure." She starts to thrust harder, deeper, her body slamming against yours. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and gasps.
"I'm going to make you come again, my love. I'm going to make you scream my name."
She shifts her angle, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. She keeps hitting it, over and over, her fingers flying over your clit.
"Come on, baby."
"Come for me. I want to feel you come apart on my cock."
Their lovemaking intensifies, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Se-mi's thrusts become erratic. She buries her face in the crook of your neck, her teeth sinking into your skin as she tries to hold back.
"Fuck, I know you're close. So close. Come with me, my love. Let's come together."
She bites down harder, her hips slamming into yours with a final, powerful thrust. She comes with a roar, the strap on pulsing inside you. The sensation pushes you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.
You scream her name, your body convulsing with pleasure. The two of you stay locked together, riding out the waves of your orgasms. Se-Mi collapses on top of you, her body shuddering with aftershocks. She presses soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.
"That was... incredible. You're incredible." She whispers.
She rolls off you gently, dispose of the strap and pulls you into her arms. She wraps you in a warm embrace, holding you close as you both catch your breath.
"I love you, you know. I've loved you for so long."
She kisses your forehead, her fingers tracing patterns on your back.
"I want to be with you, like this, always. No more hiding, no more pretending. Just you and me."
She looks into your eyes, her own shining with emotion and sincerity.
You both tangled up in her sheets, her head resting on your chest, you ran your fingers through her dark hair.
“I shouldn’t have danced with her,” you murmured.
She sighed. “I shouldn’t have pretended I didn’t care.”
Silence.
“So what now?” you asked.
Se-Mi looked up at you. Her voice was quiet. “Now we stop lying.”
“To each other?” you asked.
“To ourselves,” she said. “We’re not just friends. We never were.”
You weren’t supposed to fall in love with her. You really weren't. She was your best friend. But she wasn’t supposed to look at you like that, either.
The sheets still smelled like her. You sat on the edge of your bed, knees tucked to your chest, staring blankly at the dent in the pillow where her head had rested just a few hours ago. She didn’t say goodbye. Not with words, anyway. The silence she left in her place was louder than anything she could've said.
You scrolled through your phone. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing.
Not even a “hey.”
It made you think if everything was worth it two nights ago.
--
“You sure you wanna do this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper as you looked up at her.
Sae-byeok leaned in, breath warm against your cheek. “Do you?”
You nodded.
Her kiss tasted like vodka and loneliness.
Your clothes came off too fast, but her hands didn’t feel rushed — they felt desperate. Like she needed you. Like something in her would collapse if she didn’t touch you right then.
And for a while, you let yourself believe that meant something.
---
Now, you see her at the corner store.
You froze by the instant noodles section, one hand hovering over a packet of Shin Ramyun, while she walked right past you like you weren’t even real. Eyes straight ahead. Cold. Like last night never happened. Like you never happened.
“…Sae-byeok?” you called out, cautiously.
She paused.
And then, slowly, turned around. Her face was unreadable. “Hey,” she said, flatly. You blinked. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
You stayed silent for a moment, your sadness being replaced with frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe that I’m not just some mistake you regret?”
Sae-byeok looked away, jaw clenched. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” All she could do was scoff and walk away, leaving you there with white knuckles around the basket handles.
Later that night, you showed up at her apartment.
She opened the door wearing a hoodie and those grey sweatpants you always liked on her. You hated yourself for still noticing.
“Can we talk?” you asked, swallowing your pride. She stepped aside wordlessly. You walked in.
The silence was unbearable. “Why are you doing this?” you finally asked, standing in her dim kitchen.
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Doing what?”
“Acting like we didn’t…” you hesitated, then spat it out, “...sleep together. Like I don’t matter.” Her eyes flickered. “I never said you didn’t matter.”
“You didn’t have to say it. You’re living it.” She exhaled harshly, looking away. “You said you didn’t do feelings,” she muttered.
“Yeah. I said that before you kissed me like you meant it.”
Silence.
You walked closer. “Why are you pushing me away?” “I’m not—”
“You are. You can’t even look at me.” She met your eyes then, and god, you almost hated her for how much you still loved her. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“This. You. Us.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, the ache in your chest tightening. “We don’t have to label it. Just… don’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
Her voice was softer now. “If I let myself want this, I’m scared it’ll ruin us.” You almost laughed. “Sae-byeok… there is no us to ruin. You already killed it the second you walked away without saying goodbye.”
“…You think I don’t care about you?” You blinked away tears. “I know you don’t act like you do.” She stepped closer. Her voice cracked. “You think this is easy for me?”
“No. But it could be honest.”
“I don’t do love, sweetheart."
You nodded slowly. “Then stop pretending to. Stop sleeping with me and holding me like I’m something you want, only to ghost me after.” She looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
It was the quietest you’d ever heard her.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said. “But you did.”
“I know.” You wiped your cheek, breathing shakily. “So what now? We just… go back to being friends?” She hesitated.
And that was all the answer you needed.
“…Right,” you whispered. “Back to friends.” You walked toward the door.
And She didn’t stop you.
Outside, it was raining. Of course it is. That’s how this kind of story always ends, isn’t it?
With cold streets. Wet hair. A bruised heart. You replay every smile she gave you like a movie reel you wish you could erase.
She held you like you were something precious. Then tossed you away like she didn’t know what to do with delicate things.
In her apartment, Sae-byeok stands alone, staring at the door after it closes. Hands shaking. Heart screaming. But she says nothing. That's who she is. She doesn't do love.
Because some people don’t know how to love without ruining everything they touch.
And you?
You deserved more than a half-hearted “sorry.” You deserved someone who’d fight to stay.
In the quiet yet ever-changing world of Avonlea, Y/n arrives at Green Gables, hoping to find a place to belong. But as she settles into life on Prince Edward Island, she finds herself caught between the expectations of others and the uncertainty within her own heart. Between Jerry, the steadfast farmhand with a quiet depth, and Gilbert, the charming scholar with an undeniable pull, Y/n struggles to navigate friendships, love, and the weight of choices that could change everything.
When whispers of jealousy and betrayal stir tensions in the town, she is forced to confront not only the affections of two boys but also the truth about herself. Just as she begins to understand where she truly belongs, a revelation shakes everything she thought she knew-leaving her standing at the crossroads of her heart, where one choice could mean losing the other forever.
Hi! So apparently you believe I stole it? All works are of my own. It just so happens that this person,anonymous, requested to TWO different writers;hence, two different works.
I did not steal anything.
I did take a huge break and this request was BEFORE I took it. When I came back, I wrote the request. I did not see any work of it, but I didn't steal. Please do not spread false information, thank you!!
The morning air was crisp as you stepped out onto the porch, stretching as the golden light of dawn bathed the fields. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant lowing of cattle made for a peaceful scene—at least until you realized something was missing.
“Rosie?” You glanced around, expecting to see the fluffy coat of your Australian Shepherd bounding up to you for her usual morning greeting. Instead, the yard was empty.
You sighed, hands on your hips. “Not again.”
Rosie had a habit of running off, her energetic spirit always leading her toward adventure. But this time, she’d gotten past the fence entirely. Your heart quickened as you hurried toward the gate, scanning the open field. That’s when you spotted them—her tiny paw prints in the dirt, heading toward Green Gables.
“Oh, Rosie,” you muttered, hitching up your skirt before breaking into a light run down the worn path that connected your farm to the Cuthberts’ land.
By the time you reached the familiar white farmhouse, your breath was coming faster. Rounding the corner, you stopped abruptly at the sight before you.
There, in the middle of the pasture, was Jerry Baynard—his sleeves rolled up, hands out as he tried to corral a group of cattle. And in front of him, herding with impressive precision, was Rosie.
Your mouth parted in disbelief. She was darting between the cows, barking just enough to guide them but never startle them. With a swift turn, she directed a particularly stubborn one back into line, her tail wagging in satisfaction.
Jerry, on the other hand, looked caught between amusement and admiration. He glanced up and caught your eye, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Well, I’ll be,” he called over the fence. “Didn’t know you had a cattle dog.”
“She’s not,” you huffed, still catching your breath. “She’s supposed to be a farm dog. And she’s supposed to stay home.”
Jerry laughed, wiping his brow. “Well, seems like she had other ideas. I was about to start wranglin’ them myself when she just ran up and took over.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Smart girl.”
You approached, crossing your arms. “Rosie, come here,” you called, but your dog simply sat down at Jerry’s feet, gazing up at him like she’d just found her new best friend.
Jerry reached down, scratching behind her ears. “Looks like she’s picked her favorite.”
You let out an exasperated sigh, though you couldn’t help but smile. “I swear, she’s never done this before.”
Jerry shrugged. “Can’t blame her. She’s got good taste.” He shot you a teasing look, which sent warmth creeping up your neck.
Shaking your head, you took a step forward. Your face semi red. “Well, I’m sorry for the trouble, Jerry. I’ll get her out of your way.”
“Trouble?” Jerry echoed, standing up straight. “She’s been the best help I’ve had all week.”
Rosie’s tail thumped happily against his boot, further cementing her decision. You groaned. “Rosie, come on. We’re going home.”
But Rosie didn’t budge. Instead, she nestled closer to Jerry’s leg, as if she had no intention of going anywhere.
Jerry chuckled. “I think she’s decided she lives here now.”
You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Great. Now I have to fight my own dog for loyalty.”
Jerry smirked. “Well, if it helps, I could walk you home. Maybe that’ll convince her to follow.”
Your breath hitched slightly. It wasn’t uncommon for Jerry to be kind, but there was something about the way he offered—like he genuinely wanted to, not just out of obligation.
“I—” You hesitated, then gave in with a small laugh. “Alright. But if Rosie doesn’t budge, I might be back here tomorrow looking for her.”
“Wouldn’t mind that,” Jerry admitted with a lopsided grin. "I like seeing your pretty face. You should come by everyday." He flirted.
Your heart did a small, unexpected flip.
As the three of you started down the dirt road, Rosie trotting happily between you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just about her running off anymore. Maybe she knew something you didn’t yet.
Days blurred into weeks. Every act of defiance was met with punishment. Every punishment was followed by gentleness. It was always the same cycle—pain, deprivation, and then the suffocating warmth of his touch, his voice, his sickening love.
And worst of all? You didn’t know how much fight you had left.
Xiao had made sure of that.
He was breaking you bit by bit.
He sat beside you, fingers ghosting over the bruises on your wrists. The iron collar around your neck was a constant reminder of how much power he had over you, of how little control you had left.
"You look tired, darling," he murmured.
That word. Darling.
You tensed, muscles locking up as a chill ran down your spine. You hated it. You feared it. Every time he said it, something in you recoiled, memories of his hands, his punishments, his love crashing over you in suffocating waves. The way he would finish inside you even when you begged him not to.
But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.
Xiao chuckled, amused by your silence. “You know,” he continued, “I think it’s time we tried something different.”
You turned your head slightly, just enough to glare at him through exhausted, narrowed eyes.
His smirk widened.
“I’m going to let you go.”
Your breath caught. What?
He stood, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the collar around your throat. It clicked open, the weight vanishing as he pulled it away. Your skin was raw beneath it, bruised from days of wear, but you barely felt the relief.
Xiao grabbed your arm, pulling you up with unsettling ease. Your legs were weak from days of barely moving, but he steadied you with an iron grip, leading you toward the door.
The front door.
Your pulse pounded. Was this a trick?
Xiao unlocked it, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. He pushed it open, revealing the night air outside. The scent of rain filled your lungs. The world beyond his grasp—it was right there.
You didn’t move.
Xiao tilted his head. "Go on. I’m giving you a chance to leave."
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You searched his face, looking for the trap, the cruel game you knew he was playing.
But the door was open. Open.
You could run. You could escape.
So you did.
You pushed past him, feet stumbling against the threshold. The cold air hit your skin like a slap, your body screaming at you to move faster. You had barely taken three steps when his voice rang out behind you—soft, tender, almost loving.
"I love you, darling."
The world tilted.
Your breath hitched, your vision swimming as a cold dread coiled around your spine. Your legs buckled, a sharp tremor ripping through your body. You gasped as your knees slammed into the floor, your entire being frozen in place.
No—no, what’s happening?
Your chest tightened, a suffocating wave of memories crashing over you. The punishments. The nights spent trembling in his arms. His hands tracing over bruised skin, whispering the same sickening word over and over again.
"Darling."
Your breaths came in ragged gasps. Your fingers clawed at the floor as you willed your legs to move. Get up. Get up.
But you couldn’t.
Tears burned at your eyes. Your body refused to obey. Your mind screamed at you to run, but your muscles were locked, paralyzed under the weight of something deeply wrong.
Xiao sighed behind you. Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed in the silence, drawing closer. You flinched as his boots came into view, his presence suffocating even without touch.
“How pathetic,” he murmured, crouching beside you. He reached out, stroking your hair in mock sympathy. “Did you really think I’d let you go so easily?”
You couldn’t breathe.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.
“You poor thing,” he whispered. “You’re mine. You always will be.”
A broken sob escaped your lips.
Because deep down, in the shattered remnants of your mind—you knew he was right.
"What... What did you do to me?" You sobbed out.
"Classical conditioning." He smiled, engulfing your sweet scent.
"Doesn't matter though... You're mine." He chuckled lowly, almost psychotic.
Bro the new chapter of Yandere Xiao(Sensei wolf) was crazyyy yet so good!
To be honest I was like a little scared of the smut part but you did it perfectly!
Keep up the good work!
Thank you so so much for your kind words!! I even read all the other messages you send and they really make my day♡
Honestly, I was so scared to write the smut part in the fic because I didn't know if people would like it or not😭 but thank you so much for all the love! ♡‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
You didn’t know how long you’d been in this place. The days were long and the nights were short.
Time had lost all meaning—there were no windows, no clocks, nothing to tether you to reality. Nothing to keep you sane. The only rhythm that dictated your life was the slow creak of the basement door opening, the soft click of his shoes against the floor, and the measured inhale before he spoke.
"You still haven't learned, have you?" His voice rasp.
You had sworn to yourself that you would never give in, that no matter how much Xiao tried to break you, you would fight. But how long could a person last when their world had been reduced to a single, inescapable presence? He was the only person who kept you sane. The only human contact you had. It was sickening.
Xiao was losing patience. With every day passing, he just wanted you to break. For you to fall into his trap.
“You’re being difficult again.”
His voice was calm—always calm. Even when you defied him, even when you spat venom at his face, he rarely raised his voice. Instead, he let the silence stretch between you, forcing you to stew in his presence until the weight of it made your skin crawl.
You glared at him, kneeling on the cold stone floor, wrists bound tightly behind your back. Your body ached from the last time he had “taught” you obedience, bruises littering your skin like dark stains of his ownership.
Before Xiao, and everything, you were a virgin. But now... You weren't. He loved seeing you cry as you struggled to take him... He found it cute. The way you'd try to push him off you as his hands cropped and his lips kissed your skin. You were disgusted by him.
You hated him.
“I’d rather die than be yours.”
A sigh. A disappointed sigh.
“You keep saying that,” Xiao mused, crouching before you, tilting his head as if you were an amusing little puzzle he was determined to solve. His gloved fingers trailed over your jaw, deceptively gentle. “And yet, you’re still here.”
You clenched your teeth. “I didn’t choose this.”
“But you will, Darling.”
There it was. That word. That word... From hell! Everytime he claimed your body he always used darling, and it sent shivers down your spine. He would whisper it in your ear when he reached his high and kiss your neck. That word alone made you freeze.
Before you could react, his hand struck your face. The force sent your head snapping to the side, white-hot pain blooming across your cheek. You sucked in a sharp breath but refused to let a sound escape.
Silence.
No, you couldn't break now.
Then, his fingers returned, brushing over your bruised skin with a ghost of tenderness.
“That’s better,” Xiao murmured, tilting your chin up. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, studying your face like a sculptor admiring his unfinished work. “It’s such a shame. You’re so beautiful when you stop fighting me.”
Your stomach churned from disgust and hatred. “Go to hell.”
Xiao chuckled. “Darling, I’d drag you with me.”
The punishments were getting worse.
At first, he had simply controlled you—tying you down when you struggled, leaving you alone in darkness until your own mind became your worst enemy. But now… now he was carving himself into you, piece by piece, until the idea of defying him became as foreign as freedom itself.
Some days, he left you locked in absolute silence, deprived of food, water, or even the sound of his voice. He wanted you to miss him. He wanted you to dread his absence just as much as you dreaded his presence.
Other nights, he was different.
Other nights, he came to you with a knife.
Not to kill you—no, never that. But to remind you how fragile you were, and maybe hurt you.
He would press the cold blade against your skin, watching as goosebumps rose in its wake.
Some days he grabbed the knife and physically carved his name into your skin. Property of Feng Xiao.
"Stop resisting," he murmured against your ear.
And then there were the nights when he was gentle.
When he cleaned your wounds with careful precision. When he brushed his fingers through your hair as you trembled in his lap. When he whispered to you in the dark, pressing his lips against your temple.
"I don’t want to hurt you." His voice was almost tender. "But I will if it means keeping you."
The worst part?
A part of you was starting to believe him.
That night, You woke up on the cold floor of the basement.
The room was dimly lit, candles flickering along the walls. The soft scent of incense curled in the air—lavender, you realized.
Your body was sore, exhaustion clinging to your limbs like a second skin. You weren’t sure how long it had been since you last slept properly, but the moment you shifted, a warm hand pressed against your side.
Your breath hitched.
Xiao sat beside you, watching.
“I was starting to worry,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve been so quiet lately.”
You turned your head away from him.
He sighed. “Still so stubborn.”
You flinched when his fingers traced down your arm, over the bruises he had left.
“You should call me by my name,” Xiao murmured. His voice was barely above a whisper, like a secret meant only for you. “Not ‘wolf.’ I don’t want to be your coworker.” His lips brushed against your ear. “I want to be your lover.”
Your stomach twisted.
“No,” you whispered.
Xiao smiled, pressing a soft kiss against your jaw. “You will.”
He pressed another to your throat, lingering against the pulse point. You couldn’t stop the way your heart pounded, and he noticed.
“You’re trembling,” he observed, amused.
You clenched your teeth. “Because I hate you.”
He let out a quiet laugh, his hands ghosting over your sides. “Hate is a passionate thing, darling. Passion is just another form of devotion.”
Your breathing hitched when his hands slid lower, nails dragging over the bruises he had left. You were so tired, so helpless, and he knew it.
"You’ll break soon," Xiao murmured, lips trailing over your skin. "And when you do, you’ll realize it’s always been easier to belong to me."
Tears burned at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.
You weren’t broken.
Not yet.
But as his hands tightened around your waist, as his lips brushed against your temple with disturbing tenderness, you realized something terrifying.
You were running out of ways to resist. If you did, you would get hurt.
His lips made his way down to your jaw, then your neck. His calloused fingers went under your shirt, caressing your soft skin.
You wanted to push him away, you really did. But it was pointless. It was this... Or another name carving.
"You're so beautiful..." He whispered against your collarbone, his hands traveling to throw your shirt off your limp body. Tears pricked at your eyes, and Xiao noticed. But he ignored it. You would have to get used to the love making. You had to. You had no choice.
Your shirt was tossed and Xiao lifted you onto the bed nearby. In the basement, Xiao installed a bed for you to sleep on and... For other activities.
He unclipped your bra in a second, and now you were in plain view for him. He didn't say a word before he dove into your chest, marking your breasts and leaving dark hickeys near your nipples. You closed your eyes, hoping it would be over soon.
He kneaded your skin as he bit and sucked all over your torso. A moment later he took his own shirt off and in an instant, both of you were fully undressed.
"Look at me." He growled after seeing your closed eyes. You turned away, feeling sick to your stomach.
A harsh smack went across your face making you gasp and touch you red cheek. You snapped your neck to look at him, tears threatening to spill.
"I said, fucking look. Didn't I?" He stated, his eyes staring deep into yours. It was a rhetorical question and all you could do was stare at him in utter fear.
"I-Im sorry..." You stuttered. His hands wrapped around your neck as he slammed into you. He was rough and cruel, not giving you any time to adjust.
He thrusted into you like a dog in heat, whimpering and moaning into your ear. "God, so fucking tight... Huh baby?" He whimpered out.
You couldn't make out any words, your jaw only dropped at the rough thrusting. You hated your body for betraying you. You were wet for him and worst of all... You were so close to cumming.
His tip hit your soft walls that had you clenching around him. He groaned, thrusting faster almost begging for your cum. "Shit baby, you're sucking me in..." With his movements and dirty words, you let out moans. Which was exactly what he wanted.
"Cmon, you know you wanna cum, hm?" He hummed.
You whined, pushing you hands to his chest as you bucked your hips into him. He chuckled darkly, making his thrusts sharper. "Yeah baby? Like that spot?"
He released one hand from your neck, bringing it down and rubbing your sensitive bud. And that... Was the end of it for you.
You screamed out of pain and pleasure combined, some tears spilling. You arched off the bed, clenching and cumming around Xiao's erection.
He moaned into your neck, thrusting a few more times and cumming inside your sweet cunt.
okay so i had a really good request idea for kwon, so its during the time period of the sekai taikai but its later in the night, reader got hurt pretty badly during one of her fights but still managed to win, she limps when she walks and can hardly defend herself at the moment due to her injury, and she like gets surrounded by 3 other people from another team of the guy she won against, their mad she won so they try to fight her, a 1v3, and kwon comes up and beats them, just defending reader and making sure he scares them away before checking on reader to make sure shes okay
IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG 😓
A/n: Hi!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to do this but I hope this fiction makes up for it ♡
The night air was thick with tension, the dimly lit corridors of the Sekai Taikai training grounds eerily quiet now that most competitors had gone back to their rooms. You should have too.
But walking back alone was already hard enough when every step sent a sharp, agonizing pain through your leg. You had barely managed to win your last fight, taking a brutal hit in the process. It was worth it—but now, you were paying the price.
A limp. A bruised body. Weak defenses.
And then, just your luck, trouble found you.
Three fighters from another team stepped into your path, their leader being the teammate of the guy you had just beaten. You recognized them instantly—loud, arrogant, and clearly still bitter about their loss.
“You must think you’re something special, huh?” one of them sneered, stepping forward. “Winning that fight when you could barely stand?”
You clenched your jaw, trying to stay calm, but your pulse quickened. They knew. They knew you were weak right now.
“I won because I was better,” you shot back, voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing you down.
The leader let out a dark chuckle. “Better? You just got lucky. And we don’t like lucky people.”
The other two shifted, closing in, and your body tensed instinctively. Three against one. In your current condition, you wouldn’t last long. You needed a way out, but before you could even move—
A sharp thud.
One of them was suddenly on the ground, groaning in pain. The others barely had time to react before another figure moved between you and them, fast and precise.
Kwon.
He didn’t hesitate.
He caught the second guy’s arm mid-swing and twisted, forcing him to his knees with a pained grunt. A brutal kick sent him sprawling to the floor. The third fighter tried to land a hit—Kwon sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing the front of his gi and slamming him against the wall.
The guy gasped, eyes wide with fear. Kwon leaned in, his voice deadly calm. “Touch her again, and you won’t be getting up next time.”
The threat lingered, heavy and real. The three fighters scrambled to their feet and ran, not daring to look back.
Silence settled.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your body sagging slightly against the wall. Kwon turned, his usual sharp demeanor softening when his eyes landed on you.
“You’re hurt,” he muttered, stepping closer.
“I’m fine,” you tried to brush it off, but the moment you shifted your weight, pain shot up your leg. You sucked in a breath, biting back a wince.
Kwon frowned. Without a word, he moved in, one strong arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. The sudden warmth of his touch sent your heart into overdrive.
"You could barely stand," he said, his voice quieter now.
You exhaled, knowing there was no point in arguing. Instead, a different question burned in your mind. You glanced up at him, hesitating before asking, "Why did you help me?"
Kwon stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening. He looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his dark eyes. Then, with a quiet sigh, he raised a hand, brushing his thumb lightly over a small cut on your cheek.
"Because I care about you," he admitted. His voice, always so controlled, was softer now. "Because I—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I couldn’t just stand there and let them hurt you."
Your breath caught in your throat.
"You—"
"Yeah," Kwon cut in, as if already knowing what you were about to ask. "I like you. More than I should." His fingers lingered against your skin, his gaze intense. "And if that means fighting whoever tries to hurt you, then so be it."
The words sent a shiver down your spine. His confession, raw and unfiltered, made the pain in your body feel like a distant memory.
Kwon liked you.
And with the way he was looking at you right now, you knew—he wasn’t going to let anyone take you away from him.
The scent of rosin and sweat clung to the air, a familiar comfort that had once been a shared passion. Now, it was a suffocating reminder of what you’d lost. Xiao’s movements were sharp, precise, each strike a testament to his unwavering dedication. You watched from the edge of the dojo, the familiar ache in your chest deepening with every perfectly executed kata. The rhythm of his training, once a source of admiration, now echoed the rhythm of a heartbeat growing distant.
He finished, the final kiai ripping through the silence, and turned to you. The sweat glistening on his brow reflected the harsh overhead lights, highlighting the lines of concentration etched into his face. “How was that?” he asked, his voice slightly breathless.
“Perfect,” you managed, the word tasting like ash. “As always.”
He nodded, a brief, almost absent acknowledgment. “I’m preparing for the match. It’s… demanding.”
“I know,” you repeated, the words a worn-out refrain. “You’ve been… demanding of yourself.”
He paused, a flicker of something—perhaps guilt, perhaps a fleeting recognition of your pain—crossing his features. “It’s important to me. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I understand that karate is important,” you said, your voice low and trembling. “What I don’t understand is why it has to be more important than us. Than… than everything.”
He stepped closer, his gaze searching yours. “It’s not… it’s not meant to be.”
“But it is,” you insisted, the raw emotion bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “You’re always here, Xiao. Always training. Always pushing yourself. And I’m… I’m always waiting. Waiting for a moment, a sliver of your attention that never seems to come.”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with unspoken words and broken promises.Xiao’s eyes, usually so warm and inviting, were now clouded with a distant resolve, a reflection of the unwavering focus that had become his defining trait. “Karate… it’s a part of me,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s always been a part of me. It's how I define myself.”
“And where do I fit into that part?” you asked, the tears welling up, blurring your vision. “Where do we fit into that part? Because lately, it feels like there’s no room.”
He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the worn wooden floor. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I didn’t mean to push you away.”
“But you did,” you whispered, the truth cutting through the layers of denial. “And I can’t… I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep watching you disappear into something that has nothing to do with me.”
He reached for your hand, his touch hesitant, almost pleading. “Don’t say that. We can work this out. We can find a balance.”
“How?” you asked, pulling your hand away, the touch now feeling like a brand. “By you spending even more time in this dojo? By me watching you become a stranger, a distant figure in a gi? I can't live on the sidelines of your life, Xiao.”
“Then… then let’s be friends,” he said, his voice laced with a desperate hope, a plea for something, anything, to salvage from the wreckage. “We can still be in each other’s lives. We can still…”
You shook your head, the tears finally spilling over, hot and stinging. “No. I can’t. I can’t watch you from the sidelines, pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. I can’t see you, knowing what we’ve lost, knowing what we could have been. It would hurt too much. Every smile, every shared glance, would be a reminder of what’s gone.”
His face fell, the realization dawning on him, a slow, painful understanding. “I… I didn’t think… I didn’t realize…”
“I know,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “That’s the problem. You didn’t realize. You were so focused on your own path that you forgot about the one we were supposed to be walking together.”
You turned away, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the empty dojo, a stark contrast to the silence he left behind. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t bear to see the pain in his eyes, the regret that had come too late.
The world outside was a blur of colors and sounds, but all you could feel was the hollow ache in your chest, the emptiness that had settled in its place. You knew you’d made the right decision, a painful but necessary choice. Xiao’s dedication to karate had become his obsession, his downfall, and in the process, he had lost you. He had chosen the dojo, and you had chosen yourself. The silence left behind was deafening, a testament to the love that had been sacrificed on the altar of ambition. And as you walked away, you knew that the friendship he offered was a bridge too far, a path you couldn’t bear to cross.
From the moment Axel let you go, from the way his dark, knowing smile followed you even as you ran to your brother’s side, you should have known.
But it wasn’t until the messages started—
Then the notes.
Then the warnings.
That you understood.
Axel wasn’t done with you.
He was just getting started.
At first, it was subtle.
A text. "You shouldn’t ignore me, Y/N. It’s not nice."
A note in your locker. "I did this for us. You’ll see."
Then, things started disappearing—your water bottle, your extra jacket, even your bracelet. And then, one night, when you went to grab your bag after practice, you found it neatly placed on the bench… but your phone was missing.
When you finally got it back, you realized why.
Because Axel had gone through it.
Your messages, your photos—everything.
And then, the final straw—
A picture, sent from an unknown number.
A photo of you, taken from behind.
From earlier that day.
It wasn’t a threat. There were no words attached.
Just proof.
Proof that he was watching.
You found him outside the dojo, leaning against his car like he had all the time in the world. He looked up as you stormed toward him, a lazy smirk already in place.
"Missed me?"
You slapped him. Hard.
His head barely turned from the force, but his smirk dropped.
"You’re insane," you seethed. "Stay away from me, Axel."
He let out a low chuckle, rubbing his jaw. "Come on, princess. That’s not how you should talk to your boyfriend."
"You are not my boyfriend."
Axel sighed dramatically, pushing off his car. "Not yet."
Your stomach twisted. "This isn’t a joke, Axel! You’re stalking me, stealing my stuff, threatening my friends—"
"Threatening?" He scoffed. "I haven’t touched them. Yet."
You took a shaky step back. His eyes darkened at the movement.
"You’re scared of me now?" His voice dropped to a whisper, something almost hurt in his tone. "You never used to be."
"Because I didn’t know what you were," you shot back. "But I do now."
He stared at you for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled. But this one was different.
It wasn’t cocky.
It wasn’t amused.
It was certain.
"You’re mine, Y/N," he murmured. "Even if you don’t see it yet."
You turned on your heel, shoving down the panic clawing at your chest. You needed to leave. You needed out.
But as you walked away, you heard his voice one last time—
Soft.
Confident.
Inevitable.
"You can run, princess. But I’ll always catch you."
You barely made it three steps before he grabbed you.
A yelp tore from your throat as Axel yanked you back, his grip iron-clad around your wrist. Your body slammed into his chest, and before you could shove him away, his free hand curled around your throat—gently, almost reverently.
"You don’t get it, do you?" Axel murmured, tilting his head as if you were some fragile thing he needed to fix.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. "Let go of me."
His fingers flexed, not quite squeezing—just enough to remind you that he could.
Could what? Hurt you? No. Axel wasn’t interested in breaking you.
He wanted to own you.
"I’ve been so patient," he whispered, dragging his knuckles along your jaw, his touch sickeningly tender. "So good. I gave you space, let you pretend you had a choice." His thumb traced your lips, and his eyes went dark with something dangerous. "But you keep running, princess. And that’s just…" He exhaled sharply. "So. Fucking. Rude."
You struggled, shoving against him with all your strength. "I don’t belong to you, Axel!"
He laughed.
Not the kind that was amused.
The kind that was off.
The kind that sent ice down your spine.
"You still don’t get it," he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. His voice softened to a near-whisper, his lips ghosting over your ear.
"You always belonged to me."
Then, before you could even think—
The world flipped.
Your back slammed into the car, knocking the breath from your lungs. Axel's hands were everywhere—gripping your wrists, pinning you down, pressing his body flush against yours as he caged you in.
"Do you know what you did to me?" His voice shook—not with fear, but obsession. "You made me need you, Y/N. You smiled at me. You touched me. You looked at me like I was human." His lips curled into something feral. "But then you rejected me."
His fingers dug into your skin.
"And now," he murmured, "I have to remind you what happens… when people take things from me."
A cold shiver ripped through you. "Axel, please—"
"Shh, don’t beg yet," he crooned. "Not when I haven’t even started."
