title: the captain's problem
pairing: kim hongjoong x fem!reader
genre: enemies to lovers (?) idk girl they messy, pirates AU, smut with some plot (mdni!)
word count: 5.3k
warnings: graphic sexual scenes, explicit language, rough sex, a little bit of violence, pet names (sweetheart, baby), blood (not anything major), weapon use, choking, hair pulling, biting, elements of dom and sub, p in v, public sex, rough sex, oral (m!rec), gun/knife play, a tiny bit of cum play(?)/ lmk if i missed any!
author's note: lowkey made a proper tumblr account just to post this LMAO. it's my first time writing anything since highschool and the first time i've dabbled in writing smut. longtime smut reader, first time writer AHHH. i got inspired after seeing @norixseaweed 's post on an enemies to lovers type situation for ateez so i thought to give it a shot! lowkey went off script from their original idea but i had lots of fun with this hehe :3
The sea was a wicked, bottomless dream. The salt stung the air as battered sails strained against the wind, pulling forth the ship like a beast unleashed. You stood at the helm, eyes dark and burning with irreverence, a captain amid her empire of waves. Captain of this ramshackle crew, you wore your notoriety like a second skin, snug and indomitable. Your laughter was the sound of glass breaking—sharp, reckless, piercing through the clamour of a hundred men who yearned to be a thousand. They sang their defiance against the horizon, a discordant anthem to rival the gods. Somewhere beyond the mist, you knew they waited—the crew that haunted your dreams.
The Ateez Pirates.
Their black flags with crimson insignia had become your obsession, your most delicious torment.
"Captain," your first mate called, breaking your reverie. "We've spotted them. Just as you predicted, anchored in the cove."
A slow wicked smile spread across your face, the kind that made even your most hardened crew members exchange nervous glances. They didn't understand your fixation, this relentless pursuit. They attributed it to rivalry, to your legendary stubbornness. None suspected the fire that ignited within each time you caught sight of the enemy captain through the spyglass.
"Prepare our crew," you commanded, your voice carrying across the deck like thunder. "We attack at nightfall."
Your quartermaster raised an eyebrow. "This is the third time this month we've crossed paths with them. Some might think you're hunting them specifically."
"Some might be wise to hold their tongue," you replied, but there was no real malice in your voice. You turned your back to hide the flush creeping up your neck.
The truth burned within you like rum in your stomach. Captain Hongjoong had become your most exquisite fixation and torture. You had first seen him up close six months ago during a skirmish that ended in stalemate. While both of your crews battled, you and hongjoong swords had locked, bringing them face to face. At that moment, something shifted. His eyes, fierce and knowing, had pierced through your defenses. His lips had curved into a challenging smile that haunted your waking thoughts.
Below deck, you unrolled the maps that you had stolen from a merchant vessel. The charts were merely an excuse. What you sought was the pattern of their movements, the whispered rumours of their next port. You had become an expert in anticipating their course, engineering these "chance" encounters that left your own crew baffled and his increasingly irritated.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The first time Captain Hongjoong hears your name, it’s because you ruin a perfectly planned raid. Weeks of preparation. Merchant routes tracked. Storm currents calculated down to the hour. He and his crew finally intercept the fleet at sunrise. Only to find… Nothing. The cargo isn’t sunk. It isn’t lost in battle. It’s simply gone. In its place, drifting lazily across the water, is a ship with black sails and a very familiar flag. Your ship. You’re leaning against the railing when Hongjoong and his crew boards. Boots hitting your deck with purpose.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound carries over crashing waves and the creak of strained wood. Grappling hooks latch onto your railings with a sharp clank, ropes pulled tight as his crew begins pouring onto your ship behind him.You don’t move. Your sword hangs loosely in your hand, the blade angled lazily toward the deck. Your thumb runs absentmindedly along the guard, spinning the hilt. The metal hums softly each time it turns in your grip.
Your eyes aren’t even on him at first.
You’re staring at the blade instead, watching sunlight catch along the edge while pirates shout around you. Steel clashes somewhere behind him. Only when his boots stop a few paces away do you finally look up. His sword is already drawn and he looks furious.
You smile, “Captain,” Your voice carries easily across the deck despite the chaos.
Hongjoong’s jaw tightens immediately, “You stole my cargo.”
You tilt your head, the motion slow and deliberate, “Did I?”
“My crew tracked that fleet for two weeks. You interfered with my raid,” His voice comes booms out but you just shrug.
Hongjoong exhales sharply through his nose, clearly not buying it for a second. His grip tightens around his sword as he points the blade toward you.
“Coincidence?” he repeats.
His boots step closer across the deck until he’s only a few paces away. “You expect me to believe you just happened to arrive at the exact same merchant fleet I’ve been tracking for two weeks?”
You glance lazily at the blade hovering in your direction.
“Strange how the sea works sometimes.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw, “You should know not to mess with me or my crew.”
You smile wider. The sword lifts slightly higher, the tip now hovering near your chest.
“I should run you through right here,” Hongjoong says coldly. “End this little rivalry before you sabotage anything else I plan.”
Your grin only widens. You laugh.
“You could try.”
Your gaze drifts over his shoulder, eyeing the pirates gathered behind him. Slowly. Deliberately. You wink at Seonghwa.
“Let’s see how that works out for you and your… crew.”
The wind tugs at the sails overhead. Ropes creak as the ships shift against one another.
Hongjoong’s eyes narrow down at you, “You think this is a joke?”
You lean back against the railing, folding your arms like he hasn’t just threatened your life.
“I think you’re very dramatic.”
His eye twitches.
“You are insufferable.”
You push off the railing and step closer. Close enough that he can clearly see the glint of amusement in your eyes.
“And yet, you keep coming back.”
For a moment, neither of you move. Steel clashes around you. Pirates shout. Boots scrape across the deck. But right here—the air feels heavier. Hongjoong finally exhales in defeat laced in frustration.
“Next time we meet,” he says quietly, “I won’t be so patient.”
You smile like that’s the best news you’ve heard all day.
“Good.”
He turns abruptly, coat snapping behind him as he whistles sharply to his crew.
“We’re leaving.”
Several of his men blink in confusion.
“Aye? What do you mean—”
“Now.”
A chorus of 'aye aye's' are heard before grappling hooks are pulled loose. Ropes whip back across the gap between the ships as his crew retreats. Hongjoong jumps back onto his own deck without looking at you again. You lean against the railing, watching them pull away.
Just before the distance grows too wide, you call out across the water.
“See you soon, Hongjoong.”
Your voice follows him across the waves and judging by the way his shoulders stiffen—you know he heard you.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Night fell across the water like black silk. You changed from your practical sailing attire into something that would catch the light—and his eyes. Your reputation as a merciless captain was well-earned, but tonight you were a woman with a different kind of conquest in mind.
"You're playing a dangerous game," your first mate warned as your crew prepared to board.
You laughed, checking the pistol at your hip. "Danger is the only game worth playing."
What your crew couldn't see was how your heart thundered against your ribs, how your skin tingled with anticipation. You would never admit, even to yourself, how many nights you had lain awake imagining those strong hands that commanded his ship doing entirely different things. How many times you had wondered if his lips tasted of salt and rum. How desperately you wanted to hear him sinning in your ear.
As the two ships drew closer in the moonlight, you could feel the familiar flutter in your stomach, that delicious tension between hatred and desire. Your crew moved with practiced efficiency, preparing grappling hooks and boarding planks, but your eyes remained fixed on the silhouette visible on the opposite deck.
Hongjoong stood tall at his helm, his black and silver coat catching the torchlight like flickering flames against the night. He had spotted your ship long before you made a move—this much was clear from the battle-ready formation of his men. What you couldn't know was how his pulse quickened at the sight of your flag, how his fingers tightened around his sword hilt not entirely from battle-readiness.
"They're expecting us this time, Captain," your quartermaster warned, voice low with concern.
"Of course they are," you replied, the corner of your mouth lifting in satisfaction. "He's finally learning."
The first cannon blast split the night air, a warning shot from them that sprayed water mere yards from their bow. Your crew tensed, but you merely laughed, the sound carrying across the water. You knew it would reach him. Hongjoong heard that laugh and felt something stir deep within him—a mixture of frustration and something far more dangerous. His first mate Seonghwa approached, expression grim.
"That's the third time she's found us this month. This is becoming more than coincidence."
"She's relentless," Hongjoong agreed, burrowing his brows in frustration. "And predictable."
What Hongjoong didn't reveal was how he had begun to anticipate these so called ‘chance’ encounters, how he had started to recognize the patterns in your attacks. How sometimes he deliberately chose routes he knew you might discover. The game between them had evolved beyond mere piracy.
The ships collided with a groaning of wood, and chaos erupted. Steel flashed in the moonlight as pirates leapt between vessels. You carved your path through the melee with singular purpose, dispatching Hongjoong's crew with efficient but non-lethal blows. You weren’t here for bloodshed tonight. Boots pounded against the deck as the battle surged around you. A blade came swinging from your left—clang—you caught it mid-strike, twisting your wrist and shoving the attacker off balance before sweeping his legs from beneath him. He hit the deck with a heavy thud, his weapon skidding away across the wood.
Another pirate rushed forward. You ducked beneath the swing, the wind of it brushing your hair as your sword knocked him aside with a sharp ring of steel. The ships groaned against one another, ropes snapping overhead as bodies clashed in tight quarters. You moved through it like water—dodging, disarming, pushing opponents aside. Your eyes were fixed on one person, Hongjoong. When you finally cornered him near his quarters, you were both breathing hard, sweat glistening against the moonlight.
"We meet again, Captain," he said, his voice like rough velvet. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy my company."
"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, circling him slowly. "Perhaps I simply enjoy watching you lose."
His laugh was deep and knowing, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Is that what's happening here? Because from where I stand, you seem rather... distracted."
He wasn't wrong. The way his shirt clung to his chest, damp with exertion, was indeed distracting. The way his dark eyes held yours with equal parts challenge and heat made it difficult to remember why you had drawn your sword in the first place.
Hongjoong noticed your momentary lapse and seized it, closing the distance between the two of you in one swift move. Your blades met with a metallic kiss, bringing your faces inches apart. He could smell the jasmine oil in your hair and even the rapid pulse at your throat.
"Tell me the real reason you hunt me across these seas," he demanded, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you.
Around them, the battle continued, but you and hongjoong had created your own world in this narrow corridor, locked in a private dance of attraction and denial. Neither willing to admit what was becoming increasingly obvious to both.
"Perhaps I simply want one thing" you replied, your breath hot against his cheek.
"And what might that be?" His free hand boldly caught your wrist, thumb pressing against your racing pulse.
The tension between them crackled like lightning before a storm. Both of you knew as you stood at a precipice, carefully maintained enmity threatening to transform into something far more complicated, far more consuming. You shoved him back with a twist, blade flashing; but instead of retreating, he pressed closer. The steel found the hollow at his jaw, dimpling the tanned skin there. A single ruby droplet welled up, trembling against the metal. His lips parted, eyes darkening as he leaned into your blade rather than away.
"Will you do it?"
The ship pitched beneath your feet, wooden boards groaning as your free hand shot out to brace against the wall.
"I could," you whispered, not removing the blade but letting it slide teasingly along his jaw, leaving a thin scarlet trail in its wake. "But killing you would end our little game too soon."
His eyes narrowed, hand suddenly shooting up to grasp your wrist. With a single violent motion, he grabbed your arm making you drop your blade, putting you in a compromising position. Now it was his blade pressing against your throat, your back against the wall, his breath hot against your ear.
"Game?" Hongjoong snarled, pressing closer until your bodies aligned from chest to thigh. "You've sabotaged three major raids, stolen a royal bounty from under my nose, and sunk one of my supply vessels. You call that a game?"
You laughed a breathless, throaty sound that made his grip tighten reflexively. "And alas here you are, not killing me either."
"I want answers first. Why do you hunt me? What do you truly want?"
The ship lurched again in the rough waters, forcing him to brace his free hand against the wall beside your head. Your eyes locked with his, and something electric passed between you. Without breaking his gaze, your fingers moved to the front of his breeches, working at the laces.
"What are you—" His voice caught as understanding dawned.
"Isn't it obvious, Captain?" You smiled, all predatory hunger now that your true intentions were laid bare. "I want you."
His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief as your hand slipped inside the loosened fabric. Hongjoong's sword arm faltered, the blade hitting the floor with a loud thud. Instead, his hand came around to grip your throat as he claimed you with bruising force. The line between enemy and lover dissolved completely as you matched his ferocity with your own, neither willing to fully surrender.
With his other hand, he reached for his pistol. Pressing the cold barrel of the pistol against your cheek, you turned your head to run your tongue along the metal, feeling him shudder against you.
"Gods, what on earth are you?" he breathed, equal parts horrified and entranced.
"Your match," you gasped as he drove deeper, the edge of pain making the pleasure sharper, more acute.
"My match," Hongjoong repeated, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "We'll see about that."
Hongjoong pulled you away from the wall, dragging you into his private quarters as he slammed the door behind him. Without another word, you sank to your knees before him, the wooden planks rough against your skin. His eyes widened as your fingers deftly worked his breeches open. Pulling down any remaining fabric revealing his thick cock standing tall. You salivated instantly, mouth watering fast you had to swallow hard.
“You’re so big, captain,” you coo’d.
His words choked off as you speared him with defiant eyes, your tongue darting out as you slapped his tip on your tongue—licking the salt from his skin like a wildcat tasting blood. Your tongue traced the throbbing vein from the base to his angry hot tip with excruciating slowness, his sharp intake of breath a symphony to your ears.
The legendary captain, scourge of the seven seas, was struck dumb as you engulfed him, inch by agonizing inch, your lips a tight, wet vice. His hands hovered, then grasped your hair, not guiding but clutching at you like a drowning man.
"I've dreamed of tasting you," you mumbled, breath scorching his flesh before consuming him deeper, feeling him throb against your tongue.
A strangled sound tore from his throat—half curse, half supplication. His fingers tightened, hips jerking forward as you hollowed your cheeks, creating a vacuum that threatened to pull him apart. You took him to the hilt, swallowing around him, feeling his thighs quake against your palms.
"F-fuck you," he groaned, pain lacing his voice as his grip turned brutal. "You think you can ruin me like this?"
Your response was to take him deeper still, your nose pressing against him, hands gripping his thighs like a lifeline. The vibration of your soft moan around him sent him into violent shudders.
You took him deep again sucking faster around his warm cock, gagging as he hit the back of your throat. His hips jerked forward—once, twice—shallow, helpless thrusts into your throat. A choked groan finally escaped, immediately cut off as he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. Hand fisted tighter in your hair, not pulling you off but pushing you down. You moaned around him, vibrating again. His thighs shook. Abs clenched so hard the buttons on his shirt strained.
“Fuck—” The word slipped out—barely audible, as he came, pulsing down your throat in hot thick heavy spurts.
You swallowed greedily—every drop—while he shuddered above you, silent except for the harsh, uneven breathing he couldn’t quite control. When it finally stopped, Hongjoong wrenched you up by your hair, a primal satisfaction gleaming in his eyes at your gasp. He slammed you against the map table, navigation tools clattering to the floor in a chaotic symphony.
"No one," he hissed, face inches from yours, "makes me lose control."
He shoved you onto the table, the cold wood biting into your feverish skin. Before you could breathe, he was on you, tearing at your clothing and undergarments, the fabric shredding like tissue under his hands.
"Is this what you wanted, hm?" he demanded, pinning your wrists with one hand, the other tracing down your exposed throat like a blade. "To reduce me to this?"
You laughed, a sound that mocked his very soul. "Captain Hongjoong, undone by a woman’s mouth. How the mighty fall."
His eyes turned black with fury. He drew his pistol, the warm metal pressing against your lips hard enough to bruise.
"Perhaps I should silence that clever mouth permanently," he threatened.
You parted your lips, tongue darting out to lick the length of the barrel, tasting metal and death. You took the tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you had done moments before on his cock.
Hongjoong's expression morphed from rage to lust. "Just what kind of succubus are you?"
You released the gun with a wet pop. "Not a succubus, I'm just a pirate who knows what she wants."
"Gods help me," he muttered, holstering the weapon before seizing your throat. His thumb pressed against your pulse point as he positioned himself between your legs, spreading them wide.
"I'm going to make you regret playing this game with me."
With a huff, he spits on his hand and coats his cock—already sheen from your saliva and his release. He taps his cock against your stomach, a smirk lingering on his lips. It excites him to see the way his tip reaches up so far, he’s certain that you’ll be so full of him.
Hongjoong pushes your legs close to your chest, lining himself up with your dripping cunt. Your eyes closely watching him, breath shaking with anticipation. He fists his cock and guides it to your hole, he feels you clenching around nothing—almost desperate to take him in. He finally pushes in, you softly whimper at the contact.
Although he would never say it to your face, Honjoong loves how feisty and sharp you are. Your quick wit, clever remarks and the way you can outsmart a tavern full of seasoned pirates was always fascinating to him. Sure it fucked with his missions and left his crew in shambles but thats what made you so dangerous.
“What happened, sweetheart? He murmurs as he fucked you rough and hard into the table, each thrust was urgent and fuelled by desire. “Where’d my silver tongue captain go?”
“F-fuck you Hongjoong,” your voice cracks, unable to keep the confident and dominant illusion.
“There she is.”
You feel his weight on top of you, the way he’s pinning you down against the table. His hips pistoning into you as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every inch of his cock stretches you out wide, the burn mixing in with the sweet sensation makes your eyes roll back. Your hands claw at his back, nails digging into his scarred skin, you’re certain that even through his shirt it’ll leave marks.
Hongjoong doesn’t even flinch, he just growls low in his throat, pushing harder making sure that you’re stuffed full until there’s physically no space left between the two of you. The table creaked beneath you, maps tearing under your sweat-slicked bodies. Hongjoong's hand remained at your throat, tightening each time you dared to match his pace or take control. You bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood when he drove into you with particular force. He retaliated by flipping you onto your stomach, one hand pressing your face against the wood while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints.
“I’m the only one across the seas that can make you feel this good, y’hear me?” Each word was a thrust that sent the table sliding across the floor.
You underestimated him. Hongjoong's cock was a weapon, tearing you apart, but you gave no quarter, answering every savage thrust with a spine-tingling gasp that was equal parts defiance and reckless invitation. Your brain wants to argue, but any argument dies on your tongue—replaced by your loud moans and whimpers.
It was so obscene, so utterly perfect.
The world beyond the cabin ceased to exist—there was only the wet slap of flesh, the bite of his fingers digging into your hips, the splintering screech of wood under your bodies. Your breath came ragged, each exhale a declaration of defiance. Every sound you made was a gauntlet thrown, daring him to break his resolve.
Hongjoong leaned in until his chest smothered your back, sweat soaking the linen and searing through it. His teeth grazed your ear, lips catching the curve as he snarled.
"Say it," he whispered, voice hoarse from effort and fury. "Say that you’re mine and—shit—only I can fuck you like this."
“Mmmh fuck hongjoong, o-only you— can fuck me this good, holy shit!”
“Fuck I need to see this, need to see you baby,” he groans out.
He loosens his grip on your throat as he slides his hands to your waist. He pulls out for a moment as he flips you back onto your back, both of you harmonising in moans at the loss of him inside you.
Without any hesitation he slams back into your tight hold, you scream out strings of curses that would shame you away from the heavens above. Your body arches up into him even though the sensation makes you want to squirm away from his grasp. You clench even tighter around him; your thighs braced and shaking, hips rising to meet him, hungry for the punishment he meant as domination. The plap plap plap of wet, sticky skin echoing in the room. His cock drags along your walls so perfectly it makes your vision blur. All you can feel is him, he’s buried so deep in you hitting your sweet spot again and again. A pathetic whimper escapes your lips, broken and needy for him.
Hongjoong notices his effect on you almost immediately. His hand reaches down and cups one of your tits. He groans as he pinches and toys with your hardened nipples, his hand kneading the surface. Then he himself dips down and takes your other tit in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple—a cry escapes your lips as the stimulation from his cock and mouth drives you crazy.
He pulls away from your tit and kisses you hard, teeth clashing and fighting for dominance. He bites down on your lower lip, an easy distraction to let his tongue freely explore your mouth. His fingers find their way back up to your head as they tangle themselves roughly in your hair, yanking your head back with just the right amount of force to make you gasp.
“Look at me,” he rasps, voice raspy as if he’s fighting through something brutal.
His grip tightens as he holds you steady as your eyes lock on with his. Your pupils are blown out, wide, dark filled with lust. He watches it happen in real time, he watches the desire take over your eyes until it’s just a hazy stare reflecting back at him. Hongjoong’s face twists, his brows furrowed deeply and his jaw so tightly clenched you can see the vein pop out in his neck. His eyes half lidded and beads of sweat trickle down his forehead, a sign of his hard work of fucking the attitude out of you. His breaths sound more and more ragged.
“Fuck that’s it,” he moans, the word dragging out low.
The way his cock drills into you over and over, you feel the familiar feeling tighten in your stomach.
“Hongjoong—fuck ‘m so close, ‘m gonna cum p-please,” you whimper.
His free hand digs into your hips, leaving bruises in its wake as he slams down harder and harder—chasing his release as well as your own.
“You want to cum for me baby?” He mumbles in between his delicious thrusts, "Gonna cum all over my cock, hm?" you nod frantically.
You see it in his eyes, bliss mixed with strain, you knew he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The way his pupils dilate as he looks at the treasure laid out so beautifully before him. His sounds get louder, groans get deeper, guttural moans vibrate through his body right down to yours.
“Shit! ‘M cumming joongie,” you whined as you reached your peak.
“Fuck.. your taking me so well,” he hisses, his voice about to shatter.
The hand at your throat tightened until your vision tunnelled, the other toying with your sensitive bud with merciless precision. His face contorts, eyes squeezing shut as the feeling of your warm cum coat his cock becomes too much for him. He timed it so you both reached the breaking point together, your body bucking in tandem with his, the world going white behind your eyes, convulsing around him. He emptied his hot and thick release into your sopping cunt with a curse, hips snapping as if the force could embed you into the wood forever. He doesn’t stop moving, he moves slower now chasing and riding out his high. Your body trembles with him overstimulating all of your senses.
Outside, the sounds of battle had mysteriously quieted. The unmistakable rhythmic thumping against the cabin wall had drawn attention from both crews. First one pirate, then another lowered their weapons, heads tilting toward the captain's quarters.
"Is that...?" Seonghwa whispered, eyes widening.
Your first mate coughed awkwardly, sheathing her sword. "Perhaps we should... give them some privacy."
But no one moved away. The sounds coming from within the cabin were too captivating—your cries mingling with Hongjoong's groans, punctuated by the crash of furniture and breaking glass. Inside, oblivious to your audience, you finally surrendered not in defeat, but in mutual conquest.
When it was over, Hongjoong held you caged against his chest, both of you panting, sweat and blood mingling on each other. You could feel the mess between your legs, the sticky evidence of his possession. He pulls out of you and you moan at the emptiness while he groans at the sight of both of your cum leaking out of your pussy. He takes a finger and scoops the remainder back into your cunt, you try to swat his hand away but he grabs your wrist in protest.
“Asshole,” you muttered.
For several moments, only the sound of ragged breathing filled the cabin, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. He surged forward, cupping your jaw with his hands as his lips found their way back to yours. This time his kiss was less violence than starvation, consuming you as though he could devour the insolence from your skin. You bit back and when he pulled away you were both bleeding anew. He pressed his forehead against yours, breath mingling, heartbeat a cannonade in his chest. He never thought that his enemy could so easily break his resolve.
"You are a crazy woman," he said, voice hoarse.
Before you could answer him, a sudden hush fell over the ship. Both of you froze, your bodies still pressed together, hearts hammering against each other's chests. The sounds of battle had ceased entirely. In their place came something else, the unmistakable awareness of listening ears.
"Did you hear that?" Hongjoong whispered against your neck, his breath hot on your skin.
You tilted your head, catching the distinct shuffle of feet outside the cabin door, the barely contained whispers. How long had the fighting stopped? How long had your crews been listening to the entirely different kind of battle raging within these walls?
"They're all out there," you breathed, a mix of horror and thrill washing over you. "our crews."
You straightened up and gathered what remained of your clothing and dressed yourself again then you turned to face him, letting him take the lead out of the room to find what chaos remained on board.
When you stepped onto the deck, you were both met with complete silence. Both crews stood frozen, weapons lowered, staring at you with expressions ranging from shock to poorly concealed amusement. Your hair was a tangled mess, your clothing hastily fastened, and a vivid mark bloomed on your neck and chest where Hongjoong's mouth had been. Hongjoong emerged behind you, equally disheveled. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain some semblance of captainly dignity.
The silence stretched for one heartbeat, two—then someone from your crew wolf-whistled. Another pirate began a slow, deliberate applause, quickly joined by others until both crews were hooting and cheering.
"Hey, that’s enough!" Hongjoong barked, though his ears had turned noticeably red.
Your first mate stepped forward, shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Well, Captain, I suppose this explains the past six months of 'coincidental' encounters."
Beside you, Hongjoong straightened his collar, looking every bit the dignified captain despite the bite marks visible above his shirt.
"I trust this means hostilities between our crews are suspended?" he called out, his voice carrying across both ships.
More cheers answered him. Someone tossed a bottle of rum from one ship to the other. Another sailor began playing a fiddle. The battle had transformed into an impromptu celebration.
"Suspended," you agreed, turning to face him with narrowed eyes, "but not ended. Don't think this changes anything, Captain Hongjoong."
He caught your wrist as you turned to walk away, pulling you back against his chest.
"This changes everything," he murmured against your ear, low enough that only you could hear. "The next time I hunt you across these seas, it won't be for your ship."
You pulled away, maintaining your composure despite the heat blooming in your core at his words.
"Bold of you to assume you'll be the hunter and not the prey."
The festivities around you faded as you held each other's gaze, the promise of future encounters hanging between you like a physical thing. This was not surrender—merely a new battlefield, with different weapons and higher stakes.
Your quartermaster approached, breaking the tension. "Orders, Captain?"
You snapped back into reality, once again the fearsome pirate captain your crew knew and loved. "Prepare to cast off. We've wasted enough time with these bastard men."
Hongjoong's laugh followed you as you strode across the deck, your crew scrambling to obey. "Until next time, Captain," he called after you.
You didn't turn, but allowed yourself a small smile where he couldn't see it.
"Until next time," you whispered to yourself, already plotting your next encounter on the endless sea that had brought you together.
hot wax, cold tongue, and a whole lot of ‘don’t stop’
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
❃ seonghwa x f!reader
❃warnings: lil plot, smut, nsfw at all. exes with unfinished business, oral (f!receiving), wax play, ice play, spit play, squirting, body worship, begging, dirty talk, visible bruises/ thigh marks, he’s a lil rough, creampies, jealousy-coded (a lil), ot7 make an appearance, chaotic/funny aftercare?? seonghwa is filthy.
❃ i love this, i love this hwa. i had to take multiple breaks writing this bc the nastiness is just wow, hope u enjoy loveys <3
edit: there’s now a prelude for this story if ur interested in what happens before ex hwa ;)—before you taste me
The cabin was supposed to be cute, something fun and relaxing.
It was remote, not supposed to be a shared space with your ex.
But of course, with your luck, you pulled up last, and the universe, or maybe Yeosang’s poor planning had left you with one room. One bed. One Seonghwa.
The moment you walked in, he looked at you like the weekend was already ruined.
It’s not the peeling wallpaper, or the creaky floors, or even the one dusty ceiling fan that turns too slowly above the bed. It’s the bed itself.
Singular. Queen-sized. One pillow slightly indented, the other untouched, the unmistakable sound of a zipper behind you makes you flinch.
And then his voice. Flat, low, and annoyingly calm.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
You don’t turn around.
“Good for you.”
“Unless you want to sleep under me.”
You gave him a sharp look over your shoulder, Seonghwa doesn’t bother to smirk. He drops his duffle bag at the foot of the bed like he owns it, like this is just another night in a string of too many nights where you used to share space, heat, and sweat-soaked sheets.
You hate how unaffected he looks. Black joggers, tight across his thighs, a plain white tank clinging to his chest. He still keeps his hair parted the same way, that soft middle part, long enough to curl against his jawline, just long enough to grip.
You remember how it felt tangled in your fingers, you remember pulling it when he went down on you.
You look away.
The others had already claimed their rooms. Yunho calls out from down the hall that there are no extra blankets, “just so you know.” Jongho laughs from the kitchen about something you can’t hear, then someone turns on music.
This is a group trip. You can’t make a scene.
You grit your teeth.
“I’ll take the left side, no touching.”
Seonghwa hums and shrugs his shoulders.
“Didn’t realize we were drawing boundaries now. Like that ever worked before.”
You ignore the jibe, dumping your bag on the floor. Doing your best not to notice how his eyes follow you in the mirror. The room feels too small. Too hot. You unzip your hoodie and pretend like it’s no big deal.
Dinner is loud. Everyone’s drinking, laughing, and playing stupid card games around the kitchen island. Wooyoung’s already tipsy, San keeps throwing popcorn at Yeosang, who’s trying to pretend he’s not into it.
You sit sandwiched between Mingi and Hongjoong, nursing a beer and ignoring the way Seonghwa’s leg stretches out under the table, long, casual, and brushing yours like he doesn’t even notice.
But you know he does.
By the time everyone starts crashing, the tension is thick in your spine. Someone hands you a pillow. You murmur a tired thank you and slip away without looking back.
You’re in bed by the time Seonghwa comes in. The room goes quiet when the door closes.
He peels off his shirt in the dark, and you hate that you still look. Hate that your thighs clench when you hear the rustle of him kicking off his sweats. He gets into bed without a word.
You face the wall. He faces the ceiling.
You sleep back-to-back.
It starts with a dream. Heat, friction, his mouth against your throat. The low rasp of his voice saying things he’s already said a thousand times.
You always look better under me.
You wake up slick between your legs.
The cabin is cold, the heater barely working. You’re in just a thin tank top and cotton panties, the covers barely reach your waist. Seonghwa sleeps like he always did: shirtless, on his back, one arm behind his head, like he’s modeling for a photoshoot even in unconsciousness.
You tell yourself you’re just looking because you’re bored.
Not because you miss the way that sharp V of his hip dips below the waistband of his sweats. Not because you can still feel the ghost of his teeth on your shoulder. Not because your body remembers everything your pride wants to forget.
Then he shifts, his thigh brushes yours, and suddenly, you can’t breathe.
The room temperature was plummeting, and you know the cold is creeping up on him too. You inch closer to his body heat, trying to blame it on anything, but your own body remembers how his warmth used to feel against yours. It wasn’t cold when you were two people under the sheets.
His hand twitches in his sleep, and you swallow hard as it brushes against your thigh. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core, and you clamp your thighs together, biting your lip to suppress a moan.
“You’re so responsive, it’s embarrassing. Always have been, always will be.”
You flinch, realizing you woke him up. When you turn, your eyes meet his dark ones, dilated in the faint moonlight. He’s propped up on one elbow, staring down at you, his expression unreadable. You can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his eyes trace the curve of your hip where your tank top rides up.
His fingers dip under the hem, tracing the waistband of your panties. The pads of his fingers scorch your skin with every millimeter.
He doesn’t rush, he’s savoring this like he always does. His eyes track every moment like he wants to memorize it. He’ll pay attention to every detail and use it to drive you insane.
“You’re so pretty,” his voice low that it sends shivers.
“Remember when I used to wake you up like this? Remember how wet you’d be for me?” Seonghwa slips his fingers under the cotton, finding your folds already slick with need.
His voice is rough, and he keeps digging.
“You always were such a dirty little hypocrite.”
“Fuck you.”
Your breath hitches as he circles your clit with his thumb, the rest of his fingers sliding in and out of you with a slow, steady rhythm.
Your hips start to move in tandem with his fingers, your body betraying you as you grind against his hand. He leans down, his breath hot on your ear.
Without missing a beat, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you whimpering at the sudden emptiness. You hear his breathing change as he brings them to his mouth, sucking your juices off his fingers with a low groan.
“Fuck, I’ve missed this taste. I’ve missed you.”
His scent and his taste are all over you, and you know it.
Looking at him, his lips glistening with your juices, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes your hand and guides it to his mouth, opening it to let your fingers and your palm to be coated in your own slickness.
You can’t help but whimper, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. You’re already soaking wet, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.
Seonghwa pushes you onto your stomach, pulling your hips to his. He straddles you, his big, hard cock pressed against your ass.
You see him reach over to your nightstand, where a candle is softly lit. Your eyes widen because you know what this man has in store for you.
He grabs the candle and drips some of the freshly hot wax onto your shoulder, watching as it hardens and cools.
You bite your lip, trying to suppress a moan as the hot wax drips onto your skin. Seonghwa’s cock grinding against your ass. He starts slow, teasing you, letting the heat of the wax contrast with the cool air of the cabin. Your body shivers beneath him, your hips moving in small, involuntary circles.
“Remember this?” he whispers, drizzling more wax down your spine, each drop sending a jolt of sensation through you. You can’t help but gasp as the heat spreads, your flesh tingling.
He kneads his fingers into your hips, and pushes a slight bit of spit in the crack of your ass, letting the spit trickle in the middle, and making his way between your cheeks.
“You loved it when I marked you. Loved it when I claimed you.”
You try to stay still, to keep your breathing even, but it’s impossible. Your body betrays you again, arching into his touch, seeking more.
He chuckles and drips more wax, this time lower–closer to the curve of your ass. You hiss, your fingers gripping the sheets as the heat spreads.
“Do you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. “Remember?”
Seonghwa doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he reaches over again toward the nightstand–your cold glass of water about to be used against you.
He leans down, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he shifts, reaches down, and slides a few ice cubes between your thighs. The cold sends a shockwave through your systems, and the scream building in you, begging for more heat and ice.
Then he shifts. You feel his cock brush against your ass again–hot, hard, and ready.
“Seonghwa,” your voice barely a whisper. You try to turn, but he presses you down, his hand on the small of your back.
“You know the rules, don’t move.”
He spits on the tip of his cock, coating it with his saliva. And then he’s pressing against you, the head of his cock slick and hot. You gasp as he enters you, slow and steady, filling you completely. His chest pressing against your back, his lips at your ear.
“Missed this, so bad.”
You can feel every inch of him, the thick veins, the flared head. He’s relentless, his hips rolling against your ass, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that makes you see stars.
“Fuck you’re tight,” he groans, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises.
“Always been a greedy little cunt. Tell me you haven’t let anyone else fuck you like this.”
“You know I haven't Hwa, I want you to fill me up,” you demand, the words tearing out of your throat.
“Fuck me like you own me. Like you never stopped.”
Seonghwa chuckles, “You want me to fill you up with my cum, love? Such a slut.”
Your only response is a whimper as he picks up the pace, his hips slapping against your ass, his cock pounding into you.
The candle flickers, casting shadows on the peeling wallpaper. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your moans and his grunts.
“Look at you, taking my cock like a good little whore.” He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in harsh circles.
“You love this, don’t you?”
The cabin is small, the walls too thin, but you don’t care. You want them to hear you. Want them to know what’s happening in here, and you’re unsure why.
He’s breathing hard, his body slick with sweat, his cock throbbing inside you. His movements turn punishing, his fingers bruising your hips even more. You can feel his balls slapping against you, you can hear the wet sounds of his cock fucking you.
It’s obscene, it’s filthy, and you love every second of it.
The ice cubes have melted, the water cold and sticky between your thighs. Seonghwa leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder as he comes, a low groan torn from his throat. He fills you, his cock pulsing, his hips jerking.
You’re both breathless when it ends, the first time.
His cum leaks out of you slowly, a lazy, warm trickle that drips down your thighs and soaks into the sheets. You’re still trembling beneath him, your cheek pressed into the pillow, Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling against your back.
But he doesn’t move. Not right away.
Instead, he kisses your shoulder, slow and hot. Licks away the red wax that still clings to your skin.
“You think we’re done?” he murmurs, voice husky and low. “No, baby. Not even close.”
Before you can ask, he pulls out, slow, careful, his softening cock slipping free with a wet sound that makes you shudder. You can feel the mess between your thighs, can feel how ruined you are already. But then he’s guiding you, flipping you onto your back before tugging you up by the hips.
“Get over here.”
You blink at him, breath ragged. “What—?”
He smirks, lips still damp with sweat. “Ride my face.”
Your stomach flips.
“Seonghwa—”
“I want to taste you,” he growls. “Taste my cum dripping out of your pussy. Now get up here before I make you.”
You don’t need more convincing.
Your legs tremble as you straddle his chest, crawling forward until your knees are planted on either side of his head. He drags you down the last few inches, hands gripping your ass, pulling you to his mouth like you’re his last meal.
And when his tongue touches you?
You moan, loud and immediate, your whole body jolting as he licks into you.
He’s ravenous. Sucking, slurping, licking like a man possessed. His nose bumps your clit, his tongue driving up into your soaked cunt, lapping up your slick and his own cum with long, deep strokes. You grind down without thinking, chasing more friction, your hands digging into the headboard for balance.
“F-fuck, Hwa—” you gasp, thighs shaking. His groan vibrates straight through your core.
He’s moaning into you like he’s getting off on this. Like he could live here.
His grip tightens, pulling you down harder, burying his face deeper. He alternates between flattening his tongue and curling it inside you, tongue-fucking you until your vision goes white around the edges.
Then he locks his lips around your clit, sucking hard.
The pressure builds too fast.
Your stomach tightens, thighs seizing up as the orgasm slams into you, harder than anything before.
“Oh my god—fuck—Hwa—”
You break.
You cry out, a scream caught in your throat as your body convulses.
You squirt, gush, against his face, down his cheeks and neck, soaking him as he groans and keeps licking through it, swallowing everything you give him like he’s been starving.
You collapse forward, trembling, your hips twitching as aftershocks roll through you.
He doesn’t stop.
Even as your body shakes and your nails scratch the headboard, Seonghwa licks you clean, tongue dragging lazily through your folds until you finally try to pull away.
He lets you go with a satisfied hum, his face drenched, his pupils blown wide.
“Taste so fucking good when you squirt for me, baby.”
You don’t even have time to recover before he’s moving again.
Dragging you down, flipping you effortlessly onto your back, manhandling you into position with a strength that makes your head spin. You’re boneless, pliant, already fucked-out, but you open for him anyway. Your legs fall apart on instinct, welcoming the press of his cock again, hot and heavy between your thighs.
“One more,” he pants, lining himself up. “Need to fill you again. This time deeper.”
He pushes in fast. You cry out, nails clawing at his back as he fills you, harder than before. Messier. Sloppier. You can hear the wet squelch of his cock driving into you, the sound of your last orgasm coating everything.
“You want it?” he groans, rutting into you.
You nod frantically, your voice cracking. “Yes—yes, Hwa, please—fuck me full again—”
His hips snap harder, more frantic. He reaches down, rubbing your clit with rough, tight circles, making your eyes roll back.
“Such a needy little thing,” he growls. “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Gonna squeeze me until I can’t hold it—”
You do.
Your whole body arches as the orgasm takes you, thighs locking around his waist, cunt clenching tight around his cock as you scream. It rips through you, your back bowing off the bed, and he groans through gritted teeth, chasing his own high.
“Fucking take it—take all of it—”
He slams in deep one last time and comes hard, burying himself to the hilt. You feel it, hot, thick, endless, pouring into you, mixing with everything else, leaking out around him as your bodies tremble together.
Silence falls. Heavy. Shattered only by the sound of your breathing.
He collapses beside you.
And in the stillness, sweat cooling and sheets ruined, Seonghwa finally speaks, voice low and wrecked:
“You and that pussy have always been mine.”
You wake to light.
Soft, golden, warm through the thin cabin curtains, too gentle to match the ache between your legs or the dried mess still clinging to your thighs.
For a moment, you forget where you are.
Until you shift.
And feel him.
Seonghwa’s arm is draped over your waist, heavy and firm. His bare chest flush against your back, his breath slow and even against the back of your neck. He’s still asleep.
Or pretending to be.
You hold still, muscles stiff. The room smells like wax, sweat, and sex, the sheets twisted and damp beneath you, and your body—
Your body remembers everything.
The way he held you down. The way you soaked his face. The way he came in you, twice, like nothing had changed.
Your eyes flutter shut again, like maybe if you don’t move, the moment won’t end. Like maybe the morning won’t exist if you don't acknowledge it.
But then he shifts behind you.
A low hum in his chest. A stretch. His fingers tighten slightly around your waist, and he exhales—soft, groggy, real.
“You awake?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.
You hesitate.
“…Yeah.”
There’s a pause. You wait for something, a smirk, a joke, a cruel comment laced with smug satisfaction.
The Seonghwa you used to fight with would’ve made a meal out of this moment.
But all he says is:
“You cold?”
You blink.
“…A little.”
Without another word, he pulls the blanket higher over your shoulder. Adjust it so it tucks around you. His hand lingers, just for a second, warm, solid, steady.
The silence stretches.
You wonder if he regrets it.
If he’s pretending to sleep just so he won’t have to say what it meant, or didn’t mean. You wonder if he knows that you’re still soaked with him, still marked by the heat of what he did to you.
Your voice is quieter than you mean for it to be.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
His arm slips from your waist. He rolls onto his back, and you feel the space grow between you. It’s cold, even with the blanket.
“Yeah,” he says.
Then quieter:
“But I’m not sorry.”
You sit up slowly, the ache in your body a brutal reminder of the night before. You don’t look at him when you stand, grabbing your hoodie from the chair and tugging it over your head.
Your panties are still on the floor. So are his sweats. So is the candle, tilted sideways on the nightstand, dried wax clinging to the edge.
You hear him shift behind you, but you don’t turn around.
“The others are gonna figure it out,” you murmur, reaching for your phone. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
He doesn’t deny it.
“Let them.”
You finally glance over your shoulder.
He’s watching you, eyes soft in the morning light, hair mussed, chest bare and freckled with drying wax.
He looks… tired.
But not smug.
Not cruel.
Just, Seonghwa.
The same one who used to bring you coffee in bed. The same one who once kissed your ankle when you cried over a breakup that wasn’t even his. The one who knew how to destroy you and still wanted to be the one who pieced you back together.
Your chest tightens.
“Are we really doing this again?” you ask, barely audible.
He doesn’t blink.
“That depends,” he says, voice low. “Are you gonna let me stay this time?”
You move away, choosing to not even acknowledge him answering your question with a question.
Not wanting to go down another rabbit hole, you make it to the bathroom before anyone sees you.
Barely.
Your thighs ache when you walk, and you curse Seonghwa under your breath when you catch your reflection. You look like sin incarnate, hair wrecked, lips swollen, eyes glassy.
And your neck?
Marked.
There’s a wax burn near your collarbone, soft and tender, and the shadow of his mouth lower, where his teeth caught you during the second round.
Bruises bloom faintly along your hips, fingerprints in high definition. You try to fix your hair to cover the worst of it, splash water on your face, and throw on your hoodie.
It doesn’t help much.
You still feel his cum between your thighs.
By the time you emerge, the kitchen smells like bacon and burnt toast. Mingi’s shirtless at the stove, using a spatula like a mic, singing terribly. Yeosang is sitting cross-legged on the counter, sipping coffee and pretending like he’s trying not to dissociate. Wooyoung’s head is in San’s lap on the couch, still half-asleep.
You step into the kitchen like nothing happened.
“Morning,” you mutter, grabbing a mug from the cabinet.
Hongjoong eyes you over the rim of his cup. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” you deadpan.
“Sleep bad?”
You pause. “Sure.”
Then you hear it, Seonghwa’s opening the door to the room.
Your stomach drops. You don’t turn, don’t have to. You feel his presence before you see him.
“Morning,” he says, voice too casual, too smooth.
You take a long sip of your coffee.
Someone snorts. You’re not sure who.
Seonghwa’s dressed like he always is, black sweats, fitted tee, hair pushed back like he wasn’t literally underneath you six hours ago.
Like he didn’t leave hickeys on your thighs, like he didn’t fuck you into the mattress with wax and spit and—
“You two sleep okay?” Wooyoung asks, far too innocent.
You shoot him a glare.
Seonghwa doesn’t even flinch. “Great, actually.”
You nearly choke on your coffee.
Yeosang raises a brow, glancing at your neck. “You burn yourself or something?”
You tug the hoodie higher. “Wax warmer. Didn’t realize the lid was off.”
Mingi snickers, flipping a pancake. “That’s a weird place for a candle.”
San smirks without looking up. “Or maybe the candle had help.”
You slam your mug down a little too hard.
“Can we not?”
It’s quiet for a beat too long. Then Wooyoung whistles low.
“Just saying,” he grins. “Kinda weird how you and Seonghwa hated each other yesterday and now you’re limping.”
You freeze.
San nods sagely. “Body language don’t lie.”
Seonghwa finally speaks again, voice mild.
“She wouldn’t let me sleep on the floor. Very generous of her.”
Your jaw tightens. You look over your shoulder just enough to shoot him a glare.
He’s smirking.
You want to throw your mug at him. You want to kiss him.
You want to scream.
Instead, you grab a piece of toast and mutter something about needing to charge your phone, slipping back down the hall before someone notices the very distinct bruise blooming on the inside of your thigh.
Behind you, you hear Mingi ask:
“You think they went raw?”
And Wooyoung reply:
“Bro. Look at her. That’s not condom confidence.”
You try to stay away from Seonghwa.
Really, you do.
But thirty minutes after breakfast, you’re backed into the upstairs linen closet with Seonghwa’s mouth on your neck and his hand already tugging your shorts down.
“We don’t have time,” you whisper, breath hitching.
He just grins.
“Then you better be quiet.”
You muffle a moan against his shoulder as his fingers slide between your legs. He groans low when he finds you wet.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.”
He sloppily kisses you, and then he sinks to his knees.
The shelf behind you rattles with every jerk of your hips. Your hoodie rides up. His teeth sink into your thigh again, like he wants to mark you this time.
You’re two seconds from falling apart when—
BANG.
The door flies open.
“YUNHO I SWEAR—”
Wooyoung stops. Dead.
His eyes go wide. He takes in the scene, the sweat on your chest, the hoodie halfway up, Seonghwa’s tongue mid-stroke between your thighs.
“OH MY GOD—”
You scream.
Seonghwa doesn’t even flinch. He glances up from between your legs and, without missing a beat, says:
“Do you mind?”
“DO I—WHAT THE FUCK?!”
There’s a thunder of footsteps. San skids into view behind him.
“What’s going on—holy shit.”
“You guys were IN THE CLOSET?” Wooyoung shrieks, voice cracking. “IN THE FUCKING—YOU’RE IN THE TOWEL CLOSET?!?”
You cover your face with both hands. “I’m going to die.”
Seonghwa just pulls your hips closer. Still on his knees. Still between your legs.
“We were trying to be discreet,” he mutters.
Mingi rounds the corner last, blinking.
“…You guys definitely didn’t use a condom.”
“GET OUT,” you shriek.
They do not get out.
San leans against the doorframe, grinning. “Damn, Hwa. You go down like a champ.”
Yeosang peers from behind him. “I knew that bruise wasn’t from a candle.”
Wooyoung’s still wheezing. “I touched those towels this morning—”
“OUT!”
They scatter like roaches, yelling, laughing, slapping each other on the back. You slam the door and bury your head in Seonghwa’s chest.
synopsis: in which your night shift ends in the backrooms and the only way out is through him.
genre: backrooms au
pairing: entity!jay x afab reader
warnings: dubcon, very weird descriptions of places, descriptions of flesh, mean dom!jay, gaslighter!jay, mocking, teasing, invisible binding, oral (f. rec), fingering, clit slapping, spitting, manhandling, overstimulating, dirty talk, degrading, dacryphilia, unprotected p in v, jay has a demon dick!!!! lowkey a breeding kink sprinkled in there, creampie, i think that’s it..
wc: 9.1k
a/n: look who’s back…anyways i felt inspired after reading @gyuuberryy ‘s fic ‘don’t look back’ so i decided to write one w a bit of my own twist. this is such a fun concept of writing i feel like i should write more horror esk concepts even though this is very tame. anyways..enjoy. comments,reblogs and notes are always appreciated!
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you took the job because it was supposed to be easy.
midnight shifts, half-asleep mall rats, and a paycheck big enough to cover your rent and leave you just enough for junk food and gas. it was supposed to be quiet. boring, even. which it was—until tonight.
the mall had always been unsettling after hours. too quiet. too still. the overhead fluorescents hummed above you like a dying animal, and the janitor's closet on the second floor always reeked of bleach and something else you couldn't place. but still, nothing that screamed danger. nothing you couldn't handle with a flashlight and a firm tone.
until tonight.
it starts with a sound. soft and distant. like the scuff of a shoe on the squeaky floor tiles of the place.
you pause by the entrance of the food court, your flashlight flicking over darkened storefronts and plastic chairs stacked like bones. the noise comes again, this time sharper—like fingers dragging across metal.
your stomach tightens.
you pull your walkie to your mouth, whispering a check-in to your partner on the other end. but no response comes back, just static.
okay, you tell yourself. don't be dumb. don't go towards it. you're not in a horror movie.
you step back. your sneakers squeak on the floor, loud in the quiet. you turn on your heel and start walking the other way, fast. maybe it's a rat. maybe it's some idiot hiding in the dark and doing one of those '24 hours in the mall challenge' from 2016, or maybe it's nothing.
whatever it is, you just want to get to the office, call it in, and get the hell out.
but the air shifts.
it feels... wrong. heavy. thick, like walking through water. the hum of the lights grows louder, buzzing at a pitch that makes your jaw ache. something flickers in your peripheral. you spin, flashlight jerking toward it—nothing.
your knees suddenly give out.
no warning. no pain. just a dizzy, stomach-dropping sensation like the floor disappeared beneath you—and then black.
▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬
when you wake, everything is yellow.
the world smells like mold. not fresh mold—old, dead mold. the kind that's lived too long in dark spaces and grown stale with time.
you're lying on cold carpet, face pressed into a nauseating mix of damp fibers and dust. fluorescent lights above you stutter and blink, buzzing in intervals that sound almost... rhythmic.
you sit up fast, heart slamming in your chest as your eyes struggle to adjust to the stale brightness of the unknown place.
this isn't the mall.
you're in a hallway. no windows, no doors. just endless, repeating yellow wallpaper—peeling in places, patterned with some ugly 90s texture—and identical hallways stretching on in every direction.
you push yourself to your feet, head spinning.
"hello?" you call out, voice cracking. nothing. just the hum. you turn a corner. then another. and another.
it feels like walking in circles, except every hallway is just different enough to make you doubt it. a different stain, a different pattern in the ceiling tiles. but always the same walls. the same lights. the same sickly yellow glow that makes your skin look waxy.
where the fuck are you?
you start to run. but the halls go on. and on. and on.
and somewhere behind you, a shadow moves.
you've been walking for what feels like hours.
your legs ache. your throat is dry. and the lights—god, the lights—never stop humming. they flicker sometimes, almost rhythmically, as if reacting to your breathing.
you gave up calling out 20 minutes ago. the silence that followed every "hello?" was worse than nothing. it felt... intentional. like something was listening. choosing not to respond.
you stop to rest against a wall. the wallpaper peels beneath your touch, crumbling like dried-out skin. the carpet squelches faintly underfoot. it's damp now. damper than before. it didn't start out that way—you're sure of it.
you close your eyes. just for a second. then you hear it.
click.
a tiny, impossible sound. like a nail tapping on glass. you spin around fast—nothing behind you. just more yellow, more humming.
you swallow hard and start walking again, faster this time.
the whisper comes a few minutes later.
faint. garbled. like a voice behind a wall.
you stop cold, "...can you hear me?"
you whip around—heart hammering, chest heaving—but the hallway is empty. it sounded so close. like someone just on the other side of the wallpaper, lips pressed to the wall, whispering into your ear.
"don't run."
your breath catches and you take a step back. then another.
a low, almost inaudible rustle drifts from behind you, like fabric dragging along the floor. you don't look back this time, you run.
you sprint down the endless corridors, turns blurring together. every wall looks the same. every shadow stretches too long. the humming of the lights becomes deafening, almost sentient—rising and falling in sync with your panic.
and then—a corner.
you turn it too fast, shoulder slamming the wall.
and there he is.
a boy.
he's standing halfway down the corridor, backlit by the same yellow haze, dressed in black and hunched slightly, like he's been walking for days.
he looks up, his eyes hollow and lifeless.
you freeze.
he looks just as scared as you. "wait—" he says, breathless. "you're real?"
your heart nearly caves in your chest.
finally—finally—someone else.
you don't know that he's been waiting here for you. you don't know that the whispers were his.
you don't know that he's the reason you're here at all.
you only know relief and that's exactly what he wants.
he's standing in the middle of the corridor like he's been waiting there forever. just... still. as if he knew you were coming.
your feet skid to a stop, sneakers dragging against the damp carpet, chest heaving from your sprint.
his head lifts slowly. your eyes meet.
he's beautiful.
not the kind of beautiful you expect in a place like this—no, he looks too clean, too human, too painfully real. black hair falls across his forehead, his eyes wide and startled, like he hadn't seen another living thing in years. his frame is lean, shoulders hunched slightly with tension, a black jacket clinging to him like a second skin. he looks tired.
his mouth parts, stunned. "you're... real?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
you don't answer at first. you're still frozen. still trying to figure out if this is a hallucination. if the place has finally cracked your mind open and spilled delusions into your skull. but he takes a hesitant step forward, hands raised as if to show he means no harm.
"i—i heard someone running. i didn't think... i thought i was alone."
you nod, slowly. your throat is too dry to speak.
he sees it in your face, that fractured look of someone at the edge—and his features soften.
"hey, it's okay. i'm not gonna hurt you," he says gently. "you've been here long?"
your voice finally stirs. "i don't know. not long. maybe an hour?"
he winces. "i've been here days," he says, lowering his gaze. "maybe weeks. it's hard to tell."
you want to ask where is this and how do we get out, but the words collapse in your mouth. he seems just as lost. just as scared. and if there's one thing you know about surviving fucked-up situations, it's that panic spreads like a disease. and right now, he's the only person tethering you to something human.
"what's your name?" you ask, voice hoarse.
he smiles faintly, "jay." you give yours in return. and somehow, it feels sacred. the first time you've said it aloud since waking up here. it tastes real again.
you walk together.
not aimlessly—jay says he's mapped a bit of the place out. that some corridors loop, some don't. he tells you he's found areas with flickering lights and strange noises. some that smell like burnt plastic. some that feel colder than others, like they're not finished forming.
"sometimes i hear things," he says, tone hushed. "but i try not to listen."
"you hear them too?" you ask, something cold settling in your bones.
he glances at you. then gives the smallest nod. "they whisper your name, don't they?"
you don't answer, but your stomach twists.
you keep walking. you try not to notice the way the lights don't flicker around him like they do when you're alone. how his shadow always falls in the right direction, no matter where you turn. how his footsteps are too quiet—too synchronized with yours.
you try not to notice how his eyes flick toward your throat when you speak. how he never really seems out of breath. how the carpet never squelches beneath his feet the way it does yours.
he keeps asking you things.
where you're from. how you got here. what you remember.
and every time you answer, he watches you like he's cataloging each word. storing it. savoring it.
but his smile is kind. his laugh—quiet, sweet, disarming. it feels like warmth in this place where nothing is warm.
hours pass. well, you think.
the corridors have started to change. the wallpaper grows darker the deeper you go, browner. as if stained by time or something else entirely. the lights flicker longer now and shadows linger too long at the edges of your vision.
you want to stop walking, but jay touches your arm—gentle, reassuring—and murmurs, "we're close. i think i found something a while ago. it might be a way out."
your chest stutters with cautious hope.
"really?"
he nods. "i didn't go alone. i was scared. but with you—" he breaks off. his voice turns soft, "—i feel safer with you here."
you look at him. he seems so genuine. eyes big, expression honest. he says it like it's a confession. like he needs you. you nod. "okay. lead the way."
and so you do. deeper.until the lights above flicker one final time—and die.
time doesn't pass here the way it should.
you think it's been days. maybe a week. maybe more. but there's no sunrise, no clocks, no hunger cues to guide you. only the flickering lights and the ever-stretching corridors—yellow fading into brown, into olive, into something sickly gray.
but you stop counting the days. because now, you have jay.
he stays close. always at your side, quiet but attentive. sometimes he hums under his breath—soft, tuneless notes that lull your nerves. sometimes he tells stories about his old life: a little apartment with too-thin walls. a sister he hasn't seen in years. a favorite café with mismatched mugs. things that feel so vividly real you almost forget where you are.
you learn his quirks. how he hates the buzzing lights more than the silence. how he taps his fingers on his thigh when he's thinking. how he always walks slightly ahead of you, like he's trying to shield you from whatever comes next.
"you know," you say one 'day' as you walk together through a hallway tinged orange by dying fluorescents, "if you weren't here, i think i'd have lost my mind already."
he glances back at you, lips quirking into a small smile. "same."
"really? you seem like you've got it together."
"nah," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "i'm just good at pretending."
you don't think about it much. but the next time the lights go dark for a stretch of corridor, it's his hand that finds yours. warm. solid. grounding.
and you don't pull away.
you have moments like that now. tiny, precious ones that feel stolen from reality.
he finds a corridor with walls covered in strange drawings—childlike scribbles in charcoal, some of them humanoid, some not. you sit with your backs to the wall and pretend you're at a museum, whispering critiques and giving the "artists" fake names.
you laugh together. it's a rusty sound at first—too loud in the quiet—but jay laughs too, soft and real.
sometimes, when it gets too quiet, he'll ask about you.
your job. your family. the place you grew up. and he listens—really listens—with his whole body, eyes fixed on you like you're telling him the most important story in the world. when you falter, he encourages you. when your voice cracks, he gently changes the subject.
and when you dream—because you do, sometimes, in flickers and fits—he's always in them. guiding you through endless rooms. catching your hand. pulling you close before you fall.
you wake up and he's right there, watching you with a worried expression like he's been guarding your sleep.
"you talk in your sleep," he says once, voice quiet.
"oh god," you groan, rubbing your eyes. "what'd i say?"
he pauses. smiles faintly.
"you called my name."
▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬
somewhere around day fourteen—or what you think is day fourteen—you stop hoping for a way out.
not because you've given up, but because this, whatever this is, doesn't feel unbearable anymore. you eat the ration bars from your security belt. you sleep curled near jay in corners that feel less watched. you follow his lead because he always seems to know where to go, which halls to avoid, when to turn around.
you stop asking questions.
and you start looking at him longer. watching the way his profile softens when he's not speaking. how his hair falls into his eyes. how he always reaches for you first when the shadows flicker too close.
he never tries anything. never crosses a line. he treats you like something breakable.
so you start crossing those lines yourself. a teasing shoulder bump when he's zoning out. lingering touches when you pass him supplies. once, you fall asleep with your head on his thigh. when you wake, he hasn't moved an inch.
"you could've shifted me off," you mumble groggily.
"i didn't want to."
but still... there are moments. strange ones.
times when the lights flicker a little longer when he walks through. when the hum syncs to his steps. when he looks ahead into the darkness a beat too long, his expression unreadable.
once, you see something in the wall—a smear of something dark, a shadow stretching toward you—but jay turns his head at the exact moment and it disappears.
you blink. it's gone.
and he's already holding his hand out to you again, voice soft. "this way."
you take it. you always take it.
"i think we're close." jay's voice is quiet, but it cuts through the murky silence like a flare.
you blink up at him, wiping the sleep from your eyes. your back aches from the floor. the light above your heads flickers with that same electric buzz, only softer now—like it's struggling. failing.
"close to what?" you murmur, throat dry.
he glances down the corridor ahead. you follow his gaze.
it's different here. the walls have changed again—duller, the yellow wallpaper turning jaundiced and blistered, warped like water damage has soaked through the structure itself. the ceiling is lower, and the light is dimmer. there's a smell now. faint. metallic. wrong.
"a way out," he says softly. "or... something. i don't know. i didn't go in before. i found it a while back, but i was alone."
"but you didn't try?"
he shakes his head. "i was scared." his voice wavers, just a little. you look at him closer, and it feels like the most human you've ever seen him—shoulders slightly hunched, jaw tight, eyes dark with something you can't place.
"but i'm not now. not with you."
you believe him. how could you not? after everything, all the ways he's kept you calm, grounded—safe.
so you follow.
the deeper you go, the more the backrooms begin to rot.
the wallpaper falls away in strips, revealing a glistening material beneath—like old flesh or wet clay. pipes jut from the walls now. some of them drip. the air is heavy, saturated with warmth, as if something is breathing in these corridors right along with you.
"do you hear that?" you ask quietly.
jay tilts his head.
there's a sound behind the walls. a low thrum. a rhythmic thud-thud-thud—like a heartbeat. like footsteps. but not yours.
you grip his sleeve.
"don't worry," he says. "just a little farther."
the hallway finally ends in a door.
not a real one—just an opening. the trim is darker here, almost black. the light inside pulses faintly, like it's trying to lure you in. and the smell intensifies.
when you step through, you find yourself in a new chamber.
this one is wide, circular. walls curved and smooth, lit by a single humming bulb that swings slightly above your head. in the middle of the room are three slides—long, slick, and strangely out of place, like they were built into the floor of a decaying playground.
one is white, polished like marble. one is red, chipped at the edges, with a faint dark smear down the middle. one is black, dull and velvety, almost absorbing the light around it.
you stare at them. "what... is this?"
jay exhales next to you. "i don't know. i found this place once before. didn't stay long enough to figure it out."
"you said it could be a way out."
"i think it is. maybe."
his voice is unreadable.
you turn to him. "do you know where they lead?"
he shakes his head slowly. "no. but we have to choose. eventually."
you look back at the slides. something deep in your stomach curls. they feel alive somehow. waiting. "what if it's a trap?"
he doesn't answer right away. then softly says, "then we face it together."
you look at him. he looks calm, soft-eyed—safe. just pick one, you think. you're not alone. he's here.
your eyes fall to the slides again. white. red. black.
your fingers twitch toward the black one. the surface almost shimmers. you step toward it.
and jay smiles. not sweet. not warm. sharp.
but you don't see it, not yet. the moment your foot touches the black slide, it shudders beneath you.
not visibly. not violently. but it reacts—subtle, like something flexing beneath its skin. the surface isn't hard plastic like you expected. it's soft. pliable. warm. like flesh left out too long.
but jay is right behind you. watching. and something in your chest tells you to keep going.
so you sit and push off.
the slide isn't straight. it twists. drops. swells and curves like a throat swallowing you whole. the walls are too close—pressing in—and the material isn't smooth. it pulses. you think you feel something breathe against your shoulder.
your hands sink slightly as you try to brace yourself. a slick, wet sound echoes all around you. like something digesting.
and then—black.
pure, absolute black. no light. no air. no sound but your own blood roaring in your ears.
you try to scream—but nothing comes out.
you fall forever.
and then—you land.
hard.
but not on carpet, on something alive.
it shifts beneath you, twitching like muscle memory. the ground is slick and damp, lit by dim red bioluminescence leaking from the walls like infected wounds. it smells like copper. salt. something rotten and sweet.
you stumble to your feet. the slide behind you is gone. there's no way back.
you're alone. or—you think you are. until you hear his voice. "you chose it, you know."
your head snaps toward it.
jay.
but he's standing different now—spine straight, head tilted at an unnatural angle, like his neck is made of wire instead of bone. he's watching you. not with the wide, soft gaze you've grown used to.
with something else. something ancient.
"you could've picked any of them," he says quietly, stepping forward. "safety. death. or this."
you shake your head, backing away. "what are you talking about?"
"you picked me." his voice is still warm. still familiar. but too steady. too calm.
"i don't—this isn't—what the fuck is this place?"
"it's mine," he says simply. "or, more accurately... i am of it."
your stomach turns, "i don't understand—" he smiles. soft. so soft. but something ripples beneath his skin, like muscle twitching beneath stretched fabric.
"i made it easy for you," he murmurs. "you wouldn't have followed me if i wasn't kind. if i wasn't... safe."
your knees nearly buckle, "you're lying."
"no. i've never lied to you. not once." he pauses, his mouth curling into a cruel smile, he steps closer. "you just never asked the right questions."
your heart is in your throat now. the walls pulse with it—thump-thump-thump—like they're echoing your fear.
"this isn't real."
"it's more real than where you came from," jay says, almost tender. "you just don't want to admit it."
"what are you?" you whisper.
his smile widens, just slightly. his teeth look too white. too straight. too perfect.
"hungry."
you've never felt cold in the backrooms.
until now.
the air is still warm—wet and clinging to your skin—but your body is shaking. not from temperature. from something else entirely. from the kind of fear that curdles in your gut and hollows you out.
you stagger back, but the ground beneath your feet pulses with every movement. it's not carpet. not even earth. it's... him. it's part of him. you don't know how you know that, but you do.
jay stands in front of you, his expression peaceful. soft. like this isn't a reveal—like it's a gift.
"you were always going to end up here," he says gently. "i just helped you make peace with it."
you shake your head slowly, the world pitching around you. everything's wrong. everything's been wrong.
his kindness.
his patience.
his restraint.
"you lied to me."
"i didn't," he replies, stepping closer. "you just believed what was convenient." and that, that—breaks something open inside of you.
because he's right. you never questioned him. not once. not when he always walked ahead of you, somehow always knowing where to go.
not when his eyes flicked toward the shadows before you noticed them. not even when he told you "i feel safer with you here" and never let you see him afraid.
you wanted to trust him. you needed to.
and now you realize: you told him everything.
your childhood, your family, your fears, the dreams that had started to fray in the real world. every scar. every vulnerability. you poured yourself out like an offering because he listened. because he looked at you like you mattered.
but what did he tell you?
his name. that he had a sister. a favorite café.
things you can't prove.
"i asked you what you did before this," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "you said it didn't matter anymore." you could feel a stream of tears begin to pour down your face like a facet, and you could only imagine how ridiculous you looked right now.
"because it didn't."
"you said you couldn't remember how you got here."
"i didn't lie."
you can't breathe.
you remember how he always turned questions around on you, how he always made you feel like the one in control. and you fell for it. every time. he played the perfect companion, the kind stranger, the fragile survivor. but he was leading you. grooming your trust. guiding your hand to this exact moment.
and you never saw it.
"you were watching me this whole time."
his smile doesn't change. "since before you fell. you were marked the second you stepped out of your world."
you try to move, to turn, to run—but the room itself responds. the walls bulge inward, not closing, just guiding you back toward him. toward the center.
and now, behind jay, the ground shifts, ripples, and 3 new openings emerge from the flesh-like floor. 3 more slides, each one glistening in the low red light.
white. red. black. again.
but this time, they're not clean. they're not innocent. they're organic—like veins, like tongues, like they've grown from the very bones of this place.
"you made me choose," you whisper. "back then."
"i had to. i needed your consent. your fear. your longing." you flinch at his words, your body twitching with fear.
you can't speak. you can barely stand. the pressure in the room is like a hand on your throat.
"and now," he says, walking toward you slowly, reverently, "i'm giving you a second chance."
he gestures to the slides behind him, and you realized what each colour had represented.
white is safety. "you'll wake up in your home. you'll think that this is all a dream and if you tell anyone they'll never believe you."
red is death. "not metaphorical. not symbolic. ending. i promise it will be quick."
black is to stay. "with me. not just in this place. part of it. bound. fed. worshiped."
your knees nearly give out, "why me?"
he stops. looks at you—really looks at you.
"because you were lonely," he says softly. "you needed to be wanted. i felt it when you fell in. all that ache, all that heat under your skin, how badly you needed something to hold you down, claim you, keep you."
he tilts his head.
"i just answered the call."
you want to scream. you want to cry. but deep down, under the panic, under the betrayal, under the spiraling horror— a part of you remembers how safe he made you feel.
how warm his presence was. how seen you felt when he looked at you. and that part of you doesn't want to leave.
jay sees it. he senses it.
he steps closer, close enough for you to see the subtle shifts in his face—something beneath his skin twitching, pulsing, like he's holding back something monstrous, waiting to be chosen.
"i'll let you go," he whispers, "if that's what you really want."
you stare at the slides.
white. red. black.
you step toward one of them and your fingers brush the edge. behind you, jay's breath hitches. soft. hopeful. and you fall forward—into white.
you don't land. you arrive.
the slide disappears beneath you the moment your body releases into it—no momentum, no tumbling drop. just a blink—
and then you're standing, a chamber breathes around you.
walls of dark, glistening flesh, lit by a muted, red glow that pulses like a living heartbeat. the air hums. it tastes of copper and warmth. there's no door. no light above. no escape.
you turn in a slow, stunned circle.
what is this? where is he?
and then you hear, "you picked well." jay's voice cuts through the silence like silk dragging across bone.
you whip around. he's behind you. standing too close.
his features are familiar, still mostly human, but they don't move like they used to. his limbs are too fluid. his eyes glow faintly with something primal and ancient. there's no tension in his body now, no hesitation—just the unshakable stillness of a predator who has already won.
your chest tightens. "what is this place?"
he just smiles. not cruel. not mocking.
patient. "home."
you stare at him, heart thudding, breath shallow. your mind races back to the moment at the slide. how he'd waited. watched. how he hadn't even followed. he knew.
"you said... you said it was a choice."
"and you made one."
"but the others—" your voice cracks. "white was supposed to be safety. red was death."
his expression softens ever so slightly in faux sympathy, "white was suppose to be home, this is home."
you step back like you've been struck, "you said—"
"i never said which realm," he interrupts gently. "i just said they were options."
you feel like you're floating—adrift in something sick and sweet. "then why—why offer a choice at all?"
he tilts his head, gaze tracking you as you retreat another step. the chamber pulses around you, sensing your panic. the walls twitch with each heartbeat. the floor beneath your feet trembles in response to your breath.
you are not in control.
"because you would've run, if i hadn't made you feel like you had a say." his voice is calm. steady.
"but this way—" he closes the distance in a single, quiet step, "it's consensual, isn't it?"
your breath stutters. "you tricked me—"
"no. i led you. there's a difference." he begins to circle you.
his movements are slow. languid. like he's savoring your fear. not in a sadistic way—but with intimacy. like he's memorizing every tremble, every shake of your breath.
"i listened to you. i protected you. i let you tell me every little thing that made you feel small. and when it was time to choose... you chose me."
the walls around you shiver. something stirs beneath the floor.
"there was no way out," you whisper, horrified.
"no," he confirms. "but if i told you that from the beginning, you wouldn't have been ready for me."
"you used me."
"i wanted you," he corrects softly. "and i waited until you wanted me back."
he's right in front of you now. you want to scream, but it catches in your throat. not because of fear.
because somewhere, deep down—beneath the betrayal, beneath the horror—you still remember how it felt to be seen by him. how safe you felt when he looked at you like you were worth something.
"you never had a choice, little one," he murmurs. "but the moment you believed you did... you became mine."
you don't run. you can't. your feet won't move, no matter how loud your brain is screaming. because it's not just fear anymore.
it's confusion. it's betrayal. it's the bitter taste of something that once felt safe now turning rotten in your mouth.
your breath stutters, but jay doesn't move. he stands there, gaze quiet, composed—like he's waiting for you to catch up. like he wants you to take your time. let it all sink in.
and oh god, it does.
your thoughts tumble out in a frantic stream:
he never told you anything real.
he always let you talk first.
he dodged questions with smiles.
he cried once, remember? but his face never wrinkled. not really.
he held your hand when you were scared, but his skin never sweated. never shook.
he never ate. he never slept.
but you trusted him anyway.
you think of the stories he told—the apartment, the sister, the café with mismatched mugs—and how vivid they seemed at the time.
but now?
you realize... none of them had names.
not the street. not the city. not the sister.
just placeholders. just enough to fill the silence you gave him.
you built him. you projected goodness onto something hollow.
and he let you.
"i thought you cared about me." your voice is hoarse, barely audible.
"i do," he says.
and it sounds real. but so did everything else.
you stagger back a step, and the floor beneath your feet shivers—soft, slick, and alive. you suck in a breath, but the air's too thick, syrupy and humid. every inhale feels like it costs you something.
your body is overheating.
you can feel your heartbeat pounding behind your eyes. your chest. between your legs. like the atmosphere itself is stroking your nerves raw.
"why does this feel like—"
you cut yourself off, horrified. because it feels good.
your body—traitorous, stupid—responds to his closeness. the heat, the scent of him. the pull. and it disgusts you. it shames you. but it also excites something low in your gut that you can't name.
jay sees it.
of course he does.
"the backrooms don't just shift for anyone," he murmurs. "they respond to what you feel. what you want."
you shake your head, frantic. "no. i didn't want this. i didn't want—"
"didn't you?" he steps forward again, slow, like he's taming a wounded animal.
"you followed me. you chose me. you let me in."
your vision sways. your breath shortens. because some part of you is still clinging to the way he held you when you were scared. the way his voice calmed you. the way he never pushed. never demanded. he earned your trust and now he's twisting it in his palm like a flower's stem, bending until it snaps.
you sink to your knees, shaking.
you can feel the pulse of the room rising—thump-thump-thump—the walls breathing with you, the floor cradling your body like it wants to hold you. trap you. keep you soft and helpless and pliant.
jay crouches in front of you.
he doesn't touch you, not yet.
his voice is quiet.
"you can cry. you can scream. but it doesn't change anything." he continues, "you're here now. with me. where you were always meant to be."
your vision swims. the fear twists into something else. something hotter.
is it adrenaline? arousal? both?
you hate it but you want more. and that, more than anything else, breaks you.
because now you're not scared of jay. you're scared of yourself.
"you can't move, can you?" jay's voice is soft. breathy. too close.
your limbs won't respond—your legs twitch, your fingers curl—but you're locked in place. not harshly. not like restraints.
like... longing.
your thighs ache to part. your back arches just slightly. it's like your body is moving on instinct, reacting to him.
he circles you slowly, steps silent. the walls pulse with a deep, ambient thrum, responding to the rise in your breathing.
"look at you," he murmurs from behind, his palm dragging down your spine. "so sensitive. like your skin's just waiting to be touched."
you shudder under his hand, eyes fluttering closed. you want to deny it, you should—but all you can do is feel.
heat. tension. craving. your own body is betraying you.
"you think it's just arousal, don't you?"
he appears in front of you, crouching. his eyes glow faintly in the red light. there's something predatory in the way he watches you—like he's savoring a secret.
"you think it's just the moment. adrenaline. fear. me." his hand slides beneath your chin, tilts your face up."it's not."
he smiles, slow and indulgent. "you're already bound to me. you just haven't noticed yet."
your breath catches. "what are you—"
but you stop because you feel it now—subtle threads under your skin, like the gravity in the room is focused only on you. like something invisible is holding your wrists, your thighs, your breath, and telling it to stay. to obey.
"you gave yourself to me the second you believed in me," he whispers. "and now you'll let me take everything."
his hand falls between your thighs, and your knees instinctively try to close—but they don't.
you're wide open. exposed. desperate.
he chuckles low in his throat. "see? not even trying anymore. your body knows who it belongs to."
you gasp as his fingers stroke the inside of your thigh, slow and torturously light. he leans in, pressing his mouth to the shell of your ear. "you don't want gentle, do you?"
his other hand rises. fingers grab your jaw—firm, but not painful. he turns your face toward him. you meet his eyes and almost flinch. they're burning.
"you want filthy. you want my hands on you. my spit in your mouth and my cum slipping out of your cunt. you want to be ruined by something that doesn't even pretend to be human anymore."
you whimper, but your hips rock forward—helpless, aching. he grins. a flash of something sharp behind his lips. "good girl."
then—he spits. right between your parted lips.
you choke on your breath, stunned, but you don't pull away. you can't. you swallow without thinking, dazed, flushed from the heat crawling across your skin.
"that's it," he breathes. "so easy now. so eager."
he pushes you down, palms skimming your thighs as you sink. you don't even realize you've dropped to your knees until you're looking up at him, blinking like you've come undone.
the floor pulses under your skin. the room is watching.
his hand cups your cheek, thumb rubbing gently at your lip like he's wiping you clean—but you both know better.
"no one's ever gonna take you like this. no one else could," he murmurs. "you were made for this. for me."
his voice is velvet-wrapped venom. his gaze pins you in place.
and you? you're no longer sure if you want to be free.
"that's what i thought."
jay sinks down in front of you—slow, deliberate, like he's descending into worship or war.
his knees press into the pulsing floor, and your breath catches the moment he pushes you back and his hands come to your thighs.
his eyes trail down. he grabs the waistband of your pants—your last piece of dignity—and pauses just long enough for the panic to rise in your chest. then he rips them down, dragging your underwear with them in one fluid movement.
you gasp, hands moving to cover yourself—but something catches your wrists and forces them above your head, pressing them down into the floor.
the bindings return. invisible, pulsing. your arms are trapped, held still by nothing you can see — just the air around his body thick with power, with control, with him.
"still crying a few minutes ago, weren't you?" he murmurs, voice low and cruel. "sobbing about trust and betrayal and 'how could you do this to me, jay?'" he mimics your tone mockingly, a smirk curling his lips.
you turn your face, burning. but he grabs your chin—firm, sharp fingers tilting your gaze back to his. "look at me when i speak to you."
your breath stutters. his hands slide downward again, slow over your thighs. your skin trembles beneath him. and when his fingers graze over the soaked heat between your legs, he lets out a laugh—soft, delighted, mean.
"oh, sweetheart..."
he drags two fingers slowly through your slick, watching the way your hips twitch, how your mouth parts on instinct.
"you really let me break you that fast?"
you squirm, but the invisible binding tightens. you're not moving unless he allows it.
"so wet for the monster who lied to you," he taunts. "the same one who's been watching you, stalking you, baiting you since the moment you stepped through that yellow door."
he presses his fingers against your clit—just enough pressure to make you gasp. "and now look at you."
he leans in, lips brushing your cheek. "so needy. so fucking ruined."
his free hand grabs your thigh and pulls you open wider, like he's claiming more of you by the second.
"don't you dare pretend you don't like this. your body's too honest, baby."
he spits again but this time low, messy, right where you're dripping—then drags his fingers through it and back onto you, rubbing it in like something unholy.
"i should keep you like this," he whispers. "on your knees. dripping. trembling. always ready for me." your head drops back, a moan torn from your throat.
"that's it. make those pretty little sounds—show me what a filthy thing you are now."
his mouth replaces his hand and he devours you. he licks a thick strip up your slit, enjoying the way your body twitches when he slides over your clit. he ditches the teasing fairly quickly, his mouth engulfing you whole.
not gently. not lovingly. like he's starving and this is what he's been made to eat. his tongue drags through every inch of you, relentless and skilled, and you can feel his power tightening around your limbs every time you twitch or buck.
he's not holding you down with strength. he's holding you down with want. and you can't fight it anymore, you don't want to.
not when he pulls back and looks up at you, mouth wet, eyes gleaming with something dark and endless.
"say it." his voice drops to a growl. "say you want to be mine."
your lips tremble, your chest heaves, and all that comes out is a whimper—but you say it.
"yours."
his smile is all teeth, "that's my girl."
"pathetic little thing." jay's voice is rich with amusement, a low rumble in the thick air around you. he's still crouched between your thighs, fingers gliding lazily through your slick heat, but he's not focused on pleasuring you—he's toying.
his hand moves away. you gasp at the loss, but he's already reaching higher.
"take this off."
you blink through the haze. "what?"
he leans in. slow. terrifying. "your shirt. now."
your hands move on instinct. you tug it up, trembling, but your fingers fumble and you wince when the fabric catches. your eyes blur with tears —again.
jay clicks his tongue. "unbelievable." in one swift motion, his hands are on you, tearing.
the sound of fabric splitting echoes like a scream in the pulsing room. your shirt is gone in seconds, shredded, forgotten and he tosses it aside like trash.
"you can't even get undressed without crying?" he laughs, shoving you back. the warm, fleshy floor catches you like a cradle. "were you always this helpless, or do i just bring it out of you?"
his hand grabs your jaw. not hard enough to bruise, not yet—but enough to make your breath hitch. "you were so loud before. crying about betrayal. sniffling like i ruined your life."
he leans in. voice dropping. "but your nipples are hard and you're soaking through your panties. want to explain that to me, baby?"
you turn your face, humiliated. his grip tightens, "look. at. me." you do. your eyes sting. your bottom lip trembles.
you hate this. you love it.
he sees everything, "you don't get to hide anymore."
he leans back on his heels, gaze raking over your fully bare body, and groans like he's witnessing something sacred.
"fuck, look at you. trembling. dripping. thighs shaking like you've been begging for this since the day you met me."
your face burns. you try to squeeze your legs together but he slaps your inner thigh.
not hard. not painful. but enough to sting. to make your hips jolt. "spread. them."
you don't obey fast enough so he grabs your knees and forces them open. "you want to cry again? go ahead. i like the way your tears look when they roll into your mouth."
you let out a shaky sob, frustration and arousal eating you alive, but jay just leans down and licks the tear from your cheek.
"sweet little mess," he breathes, lips ghosting over your skin. "this is what you were made for."
he kisses down your neck. your chest. your stomach. his teeth graze your hip. "tell me you want it, or i'll stop."
you squirm, humiliated, raw, "say it."
"i want it," you whisper.
"say it louder."
"i want it."
he smiles. mean. sharp. perfect, "good girl."
he presses his mouth to your heat again. tongue flat, slow, claiming. and this time, he doesn't stop.
his tongue slides over your center like he's savoring something expensive.
slow. wide. cruel.
you arch under him with a soft cry, body already raw from how he's stripped you down—not just physically, but completely. nerves exposed. pride shattered. his now, and he knows it.
"mm," jay hums against your core, licking you again, slow and deliberate. "sweet little thing... this what betrayal tastes like?"
your thighs twitch. his grip tightens.
"thought you hated me just ten minutes ago. now you're dripping like you've been waiting your whole life for my mouth."
you whimper, hips twitching. he doesn't give you relief—just more pressure. too slow. too controlled. like he's building something just to tear it down.
he pulls back, licking his lips lazily. his mouth shines.
"you gonna cry again? huh?" he coos, one brow raised. "go ahead. doesn't matter how much you sob, this pretty cunt's still begging me to fill it."
you suck in a breath as his fingers trail back down between your legs. he teases you—barely brushing the slick entrance with two fingers, then pulling away.
again. and again. you try to buck your hips and move your arms but the invisible bindings at your wrists tighten.
"stay still." his voice darkens. and something shifts in the air.
he presses two fingers in—finally—but only halfway.
your eyes roll. your mouth drops open. he watches you, eyes filled with amusement. "that desperate for my fingers? not even halfway in and you're already squeezing like a whore."
you squirm as he thrusts them deeper. the stretch is overwhelming, so sudden after being teased for so long, and the heel of his palm grinds down against your clit until your vision blurs.
"feel that?" his voice is right in your ear now—he's everywhere. "that's your body saying yes while your head's still pretending to be innocent."
he curls his fingers just right and you scream. he grins like the devil himself, "there she is."
he thrusts faster now, fingers soaked, the sound of it filthy in the quiet, pulsing space. his palm slaps against your clit with every movement. your thighs shake, your hips jerk—but you're bound. you're stuck.
"how long do you think you'll last?" he murmurs. "how many times can i make you cum before you forget your own name?"
you whimper, breath hitched. "please, i—"
"please what?" he slows. again.
you almost sob.
"please let you come? please wreck you harder? or maybe you just want to be filled up like a good little toy."
you moan, body straining. the bindings tighten again—not painfully, but enough to remind you that you're completely his.
he leans in, fingers still deep, curling slow and mean. "you're not cumming until you admit it."
"admit what—?"
"that you like this."
you freeze. breathless.
"say it. say you like being used. being ruined. say you like being owned by the thing you were so scared of."
you hesitate, so he stops. fingers still buried inside you, but unmoving. "say it or i leave you here. trembling. soaked. aching."
you bite your lip. humiliated. soaked. desperate.
and then you whisper it, "i like it."
"louder."
"i like it. i like being ruined. i like you owning me."
he smiles and fucks you hard with his fingers, curling, thrusting, his mouth back on your clit as he laps at you hungrily. you feel a foreign feeling build in the pit of your stomach, your body shaking and twitching.
you cum fast. loud. messy. completely undone.
your body shakes, back arching, a loud sob tearing from your throat as he holds you through it—mouth locked to you, tongue relentless, fingers fucking you through the aftershocks.
and when you collapse?
he doesn't stop, "you thought i was done with you?"
jay's voice is thick with amusement, warm breath fanning over your thighs as he stays buried between them. his fingers don't stop moving.
his tongue is still licking.
slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world.
you're shaking. sobbing. your thighs twitch with every tiny stroke to your clit, and your hips jerk helplessly, but you still can't move—not from exhaustion, not from the invisible force that keeps your wrists pinned above your head.
"don't squirm," he mutters, licking a long stripe up your oversensitive center. "you said you liked being ruined. so now i'm going to ruin you right."
you choke on a moan, head thrashing. "too much—"
he laughs. "too bad." his fingers thrust again—deeper, meaner now. the squelch of your slick, the wet drag of his knuckles, the obscene slap of his palm against your clit—it's all loud now.
deliberate. degrading.
"listen to that," he sneers. "your messy little cunt can't even pretend to fight me anymore. soaked. swollen. like it's been waiting for me for years."
you gasp, mouth open in a silent cry as he flattens his tongue against your clit again. but this time, it's not slow. this time, he devours you—relentless, tongue dragging tight circles, fingers curling into that sweet, ruined spot that makes your whole body seize.
"you're gonna cum again," he growls into you, voice muffled by your skin. "don't care if you're ready. don't care if you're crying. this little pussy's mine now, and i decide when it stops."
your eyes roll back and you can feel it—already.
your legs shake violently, breath catching in short, high-pitched gasps as you spiral toward a second orgasm.
"that's it. you're close, aren't you? fuck, look at you—" he slaps your clit once, sharp, just to watch you jolt. "—so easy now. so fucking weak for me."
you scream. you thrash. but the bindings hold.
"you gonna cum again, baby? gonna soak my hand like the needy little hole you are?"
your voice breaks, "jay—please—"
"beg louder."
"please! please, i—" but you never finish.
he fucks his fingers into you deeper, thumb circling your clit, tongue flicking across your folds like he's marking you with every stroke—and it tips you over.
the second orgasm crashes into you like a wave of white heat. you scream—louder than before—head thrown back, thighs quivering, tears spilling freely as your body locks and trembles and pulses around his fingers.
and he doesn't stop.
"yeah, that's it," he growls, watching the way you break apart beneath him. "fucking cum for me again. make a mess. cry about it. you're not leaving this floor until i'm finished with you."
your chest heaves, mind blank.
and jay? he's just getting started.
"look at you." jay's voice is velvet-coated filth.
he's above you now, body heavy between your thighs, pinning you to the pulsing floor with casual, crushing dominance.
you can barely see him through the blur of tears. your face is hot, your lips swollen, your chest heaving with hiccuped sobs—and he's smiling.
like your wreckage is beautiful. like your suffering is his reward.
"crying again, angel? didn't i just give you everything you begged for?" he reaches down—grips himself—and your breath stops.
because that's not human. not anymore.
you hadn't realized when he got the chance to slip off his pants, your eyes immediately zeroing in on what was clenches between his fist. his cock is thick. veiny. too hot. it pulses in his hand like it has a heartbeat of its own, the head flushed darker than the rest, slightly curved, the base wrapped in ridged muscle you've never seen on anyone living. it looks designed—to stretch, to bruise, to own.
"don't pretend you're scared now," he huffs, pressing the thick head against your drenched entrance. "you begged for this. cried for it. soaked my face like a desperate little whore."
you whimper as he shoves in the tip.
your back arches, and your mouth drops down to an 'o'. "too big?" he mocks. "what a shame." his hand clamps down on your waist. you try to pull away—reflex—but he drags you back down like your body belongs to him. because it does.
"this body's not made for anything soft anymore."
he pushes deeper and you scream. it burns. it stretches. he's so much, and you're still raw, still trembling from the last orgasm—and he knows it.
"so fucking tight," he grits. "like you were waiting to be split open."
he bottoms out and you sob again and jay laughs.
"god, you're crying again. what's wrong, baby? can't handle being filled by what you gave yourself to?"
your fingers claw the air, wrists still bound, whole body shaking as his hips start to move—slow at first, dragging every ridge and vein against your walls, pulling back just enough to make you feel the loss before slamming back in deep.
"this pussy's mine now." he pounds into you again, "say it."
"j—jay—"
he grabs your jaw, forces your mouth open. "say it or i'll cum inside you and keep you full forever."
your cunt clamps down on him tight and he groans, low and dangerous. "fuck. you liked that, didn't you? thought you'd hate being ruined, but now you want it dripping down your thighs."
you choke. your legs are shaking again. your mind is gone. he keeps fucking into you—hard, brutal, possessive.
"i'm gonna fuck you until you forget you ever had a name. until the only word you know is mine."
your body convulses and another orgasm hits you, this one violent and sharp—rips through you as his cock drags over every spot that shouldn't exist inside you. it's like he's built to keep you on edge, to ruin you forever.
and when you cum, crying, broken, babbling nonsense—he smiles. "good girl."
he thrusts once. twice. and then he growls, a sound inhuman and deep, filling you with a rush of heat so intense your whole body trembles.
his cock pulses. deep inside. and he doesn't pull out. you could feel yourself dripping with him, your cunt clenching pathetically around him like a vice.
"mine now," he whispers into your ear, licking the sweat from your temple. "forever."
you don't respond. you can't.
and jay? jay just watches you twitch beneath him, a satisfied god feasting on the wreckage he made.
▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬ ▬▬
no one finds her.
not the mall staff.
not the cops who skim the grainy security footage with bored eyes.
not her family, who post missing posters no one reads.
there's no door. no sound. no sign.
just static on the feed where her flashlight dropped. just silence in the halls where she vanished.
but sometimes—if you're unlucky— if you wander too far past where the lights flicker and the walls feel too soft you might hear something.
a voice.
a moan.
a laugh, low and sweet and wrong.
or maybe you'll see something flash by—dark hair, bare feet, eyes too wide, a figure slumped against yellow walls with something crawling beneath her skin.
you won't know if she's alive.
you won't know if she's alone.
and the worst part? she might smile at you.
soft. slow. dreamy.
like she's waiting. like you're next.
because the backrooms keep what they're given.
and they remember every sob, every scream, every second of surrender.
and somewhere inside them, in the red-lit heart of something ancient and hungry—he's still fucking her open. still whispering in her ear.
still asking the same question, over and over again: "do you want to be mine?"
and maybe—just maybe..
she said yes.
— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
summary: alone on a saturday night, you stumble upon a camboy's stream by pure accident. what begins as innocent curiosity spirals into an irresistible addiction, especially when he seems to notice you among the thousands. and when he reaches out to you personally... you realize that some fantasies are too tempting to leave behind.
pairing: camboy!yeonjun x fem!reader
genre: smut, strangers to lovers, slight angst (insecurity), heavy tension, slow burn turned fast, eventual public sex (streamed), slight exhibitionism.
warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), camboy themes, masturbation (m and f), sexting, sextalk, blowjob, vaginal sex, multiple positions, dirty talk, slight choking, spanking, use of sex toys, praise + possessiveness, masking identities (reader wears a mask, yeonjun wears sunglasses) during public stream, emotional insecurity (reader worried about appearance), reader is implied to be inexperienced or shy, mild degradation (very soft, mostly praise kink), slight breeding kink talk, heavy mentions of viewer comments/donations.
wc: 4,6k
notes: baby, thank you so much for this amazing request, i was blushing like crazy thinking about all the ways i could handle the story, wow, not gonna lie, my favorite request ever, bae, yeonjun camboy is such a concept 😭💗
it’s saturday night, and the house is dead quiet.
your parents left earlier for some family dinner party—you had no interest in small talk with distant cousins or watching your dad argue about politics over cheap wine. your brother, predictably, is out with his girlfriend, probably halfway into some movie or already making out in his car. either way, he’s not coming home anytime soon.
you’ve got the whole house to yourself. all night.
at first, it felt nice—freedom. silence. you curled up on the couch, made popcorn, browsed netflix like it was an olympic sport. but after an hour of half-watching three different movies, nothing could hold your attention. not even the romcoms with shirtless leads.
you switched to tiktok. scrolled. scrolled more. a couple thirst traps. a couple puppies. nothing hit.
you huffed and opened your laptop, fingers drifting without purpose. maybe a gameplay stream would help pass time. something soft. chill. maybe even fall asleep to it.
you searched “streamers live now” and clicked a random site link that looked slightly sketchy.
only—it wasn’t for gaming.
the homepage was dark. black background, bright red accents. pulsing icons and neon outlines. bold letters reading “18+ only. enter responsibly.”
you blinked. hesitated. your heart kicked once in your chest.
then curiosity won.
you clicked.
the page opened with a grid of livestream thumbnails. too many skin tones. too many soft moans bleeding through overlapping audio. most thumbnails showed women—arched backs, lace underwear, fingers between thighs. the kind of content you’d only ever dared to peek at by accident.
you licked your bottom lip without realizing. eyes glued to the screen.
and then you saw him.
a stream titled “just chillin’”. the thumbnail was cropped just below the neck, showing a toned chest in a tight black tank top, arms flexed casually as he leaned back in a gamer chair. loose, light-wash jeans slung low on narrow hips, exposing a hint of red boxers.
his username: yawnzzn.
something about it made your fingers freeze.
there weren’t too many viewers inside. only a few hundred, way less than the others. maybe that was better. maybe you wouldn’t get noticed.
you clicked the stream.
your screen went black for a moment—then it loaded.
he was talking already, laughing softly, the kind of voice that scraped low and slow against your ears. the room was mostly dark, lit only by the glow of his monitor and faint neon strips behind his desk. it cast shadows across his collarbones, the slope of his shoulders.
you quickly plugged in your headphones, pulse jumping.
he leaned forward, adjusting something on the desk, and that’s when the camera caught his chin. his mouth.
his lips were plush, pink, and curved into a lazy smirk.
your whole body froze when you heard it:
“huh,” he chuckled. “who’s ‘babygrl87’?”
your username.
your dumb, randomly chosen username.
you nearly slammed your laptop shut, face burning, heart jackhammering inside your chest.
“didn’t think we had new viewers tonight.” his voice dipped lower, teasing. “you shy, babygrl?”
you didn’t answer.
his chat was wild. emojis, donations, constant messages.
“take the tank top off!”
“the new girl better tip if she’s gonna stare.”
“yo, yawnzzn, we want the show.”
he ignored most of them. or teased them back.
“which one should go first?” he mused aloud. “shirt or pants?”
your thighs pressed together. he wasn’t even doing anything yet, and your body was already betraying you.
then—slowly—he stood up.
his tank top hugged his body in all the right places. tight against his chest, his waist slim. he stretched, letting his arms lift overhead, showing a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. the v-line below his abs? obscene.
you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.
then he reached down, thumbs hooking into his belt loops.
“you wanna see more?” he asked, looking directly into the camera. it felt like he was looking straight at you.
“say please.”
his viewers spammed please, but you stayed quiet.
and yet—you couldn’t look away.
he unbuttoned his jeans. dragged the zipper down slow. the denim slid off his hips, falling to his ankles with a dull thud.
your breath hitched.
tight red boxers. snug. low. the bulge underneath them? impossible to ignore. thick, heavy-looking. twitching slightly under the fabric.
you pressed your thighs tighter.
he sat back down, shifting slightly, letting one leg rest wide open on either side of the chair. spread just enough to show off the outline pressing against the boxers.
“you guys are fucking filthy,” he muttered with a smirk. “but lucky for you... so am i.”
his hand dipped under the waistband.
not all the way—just enough to tease.
his fingers brushed over himself, then pulled out, gripping through the fabric, pressing against the hardness. you watched the muscles in his arm tense.
he exhaled softly. deep. like he really needed to touch himself.
you couldn’t stop staring.
his palm moved slow at first, just rubbing the base, then stroking up and down along the outside. the fabric grew darker at the tip. he was leaking already.
you bit your lip hard, your own thighs twitching.
he kept going. breathing heavier. head tilted back, exposing his throat.
“fuck, babygrl,” he groaned suddenly. your eyes widened.
did he just—
“you’re still watching, right?” he said between shallow breaths. “don’t look away. i’m doing this for you.”
he reached into his boxers, finally pulling himself out.
thick. veiny. flushed red at the tip.
he spat into his hand. started stroking—slow at first, then faster.
the slick sound of skin on skin filled your ears through the headphones.
you were hypnotized.
his moans were low and filthy, hips shifting as he fucked into his hand. his tank top bunched up higher on his chest, exposing his abs, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he got closer.
his eyes were heavy-lidded now, lips parted.
“wish i had you here,” he muttered. “wish i could see you... touching yourself too.”
you were. not even sure when your hand slipped under your shorts. but it was there now. fingers rubbing, too fast, too needy.
he got louder.
he leaned forward, panting, fisting himself hard.
“you want it?” he growled. “want me to come for you?”
you gasped. the tension snapped.
you came first.
trembling, breath caught, hand soaked.
he moaned—loud, raw—and came a second after. cum spilling over his knuckles, streaking his abs. he didn’t stop stroking until every last drop was out, breathing like he’d run a mile.
for a second, it was quiet.
only his ragged breath. and yours.
then he talked to the camera again.
“thanks for watching, babygrl.”
you slammed your laptop shut.
you never meant to stay.
at first, it was just curiosity—an accident on a saturday night, when the house was too empty and the silence wrapped too tightly around your neck. you stumbled into his stream, yawnzzn, because it was late, and you were bored, and the thumbnail showed more skin than anything you were brave enough to click before.
you should’ve closed the window. you should’ve gotten up, made tea, gone to bed.
but you didn’t.
you stayed. wide-eyed and still, staring at the boy who leaned back lazily in his gamer chair, the room bathed in the low glow of his monitor, his body relaxed, his fingers moving with casual, devastating confidence over himself.
you didn’t even know his name.
all you had was a username. a voice. a body that looked carved by hands more careful than god’s. long fingers. full pink lips. shoulders wide enough to carry the whole damn world.
you never commented. not once.
you just watched.
he noticed, somehow.
your username would blink into the list of viewers and he’d smile, low and wicked.
“looks like babygrl87’s here,” he’d tease once in a while.
the chat would explode with laughter.
"silent watcher’s back."
"she's loyal but shy."
"say something, girl!"
but you never did.
you stayed hidden, frozen, cheeks burning, fingers trembling at the sight of him.
and he kept performing for you anyway.
stroking himself slow in the shadows, spreading his legs wide so you could see everything, moaning under his breath, letting his pleasure spill into the microphone until it felt like he was touching you through the screen.
sometimes he'd say things like—
"bet she's watching real close..."
"wish she'd tell me what she likes..."
"i'll just have to guess, baby."
every time he said "baby," something deep inside you twisted.
you touched yourself to him more times than you could count. memorized every shift of his hips, every flex of his thighs, every low curse that spilled from his throat. his face stayed mostly hidden—just his mouth, his jaw, the curve of his nose—but it didn’t matter.
he had you wrapped around his finger without ever seeing his whole face.
until tonight.
the notification buzzed on your phone and you didn’t hesitate. you flung your laptop open and clicked into his stream before your fingers could even register it.
live now: yawnzzn — "friday chill."
it was late. almost midnight. but it was friday, and you could stay up all you wanted.
the stream loaded—and immediately your breath caught.
yeonjun was different tonight.
he wore a black hoodie, the hood pulled up to shadow most of his face. only the sharp line of his jaw, the tempting curve of his lips, and the glint of an earring peeked out.
his posture was lazier than usual, sprawled low in his chair, legs spread wide.
and—
only two viewers.
just you. and someone who quickly left.
you were alone with him.
your heart pounded so loud you barely heard him speak at first.
“well, look who it is.” he smiled, a little softer this time. “thought you’d come."
you swallowed hard.
he leaned closer to the camera, tapping his fingers on the desk.
“guess it’s just you and me tonight, babygrl.”
your hands shook.
for the first time, you typed something.
hi.
the word looked tiny in the chatbox. pitiful. but yeonjun froze when he saw it.
his mouth parted.
then—
he laughed.
god, the sound was warm. real. his whole body tilted a little, like he couldn’t believe it.
“no way,” he said, eyes shining. “you’re real. you actually talk.”
you bit your lip so hard it hurt.
he grinned wider, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a second. he looked—happy. excited. like you just made his whole night.
"fuck, i should do something special for you," he mused. "loyal watcher deserves a reward."
you hesitated. then, shaky fingers flying across the keys, you typed:
can i see your face?
for a second, the world stopped.
he leaned back, tapping his chin, pretending to think. then he smirked, eyes glinting under the hood.
"only because it’s you," he said, voice low. "only because you’ve been good."
he reached up, gripping the hood—and slowly pushed it back.
you forgot how to breathe.
he was beautiful.
no. beyond beautiful.
his face was unfair.
sharp, slanted cat-like eyes, framed by thick lashes, glinting dark and dangerous under the soft light. a high nose bridge, cheekbones cut clean enough to bleed on. his mouth, god, that sinful mouth—full and pink, curled into a smirk that promised ruin.
he was the kind of beautiful that wasn’t supposed to be real.
the kind that hurt to look at.
your stomach flipped violently. your whole body flushed hot.
he tilted his head, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, and smiled.
"what do you think, baby?" he teased. "worth the wait?"
you couldn’t even type.
he chuckled, low and raspy.
“i’ll take that silence as a yes.”
he leaned in closer, so close the camera almost fogged.
"don’t disappear on me now," he whispered. "you’re mine tonight."
and you knew—deep in your bones—you’d never escape him.
not now.
not ever.
you should’ve closed the laptop.
you should’ve logged off the moment he smiled at you like that—dangerous and sweet, like he already knew what you tasted like.
but you stayed. frozen in your seat, trembling, helpless.
yeonjun leaned back, dragging his palm down his chest, over his stomach, slow enough to make you whimper.
"you know," he said, voice dropping, "i've been saving something… just for you."
he reached under the desk and pulled out something unexpected—not just a toy, but a miniature torso made of soft, rosy pink silicone, barely the size of his hands.
it was shaped like a woman’s lower half, smooth thighs tapering into the curve of hips, and right between them, the detailed, glistening folds of a pussy. obscene. delicate.
lewd in a way that made your stomach twist. the soft rubber glinted under the light as he turned it in his hand, spreading lube over it like he was preparing you instead.
a thick stream of it spilled out—over his hand, over the soft pink opening of the toy, dripping lewdly.
your breath caught.
he grinned lazily at your silence, clearly enjoying the way you were glued to the screen.
"thought about using it a couple times," he murmured. "but it didn’t feel right without you here."
your thighs pressed together, trying uselessly to ease the heavy, aching heat between them.
your mouth went dry.
he groaned under his breath, squeezing some over his own cock. it was already hard, thick and flushed red at the tip, veiny and heavy between his thighs.
your whole body clenched at the sight of it.
yeonjun caught the way you froze.
he chuckled, low and warm.
"you like watching, don’t you?" he teased, voice velvet-soft. "such a dirty little thing, just sitting there all quiet for me."
you couldn’t even type back. your hands were gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles white.
he slicked himself up slowly, deliberately, hissing as his fingers wrapped around the base.
then he grabbed the toy.
"gonna pretend it’s you," he said, smiling in that way that made your head spin. "gonna fuck you so good, baby."
he eased the tip of his cock into the toy, slow, teasing.
the lube made everything shine under the dim light, making it look so wet, so messy.
a broken moan left his mouth as he pushed deeper.
"fuck..." he whispered, hips twitching. "you'd feel so fucking good around me."
he started moving, thrusting lazily into the toy, one hand gripping it tight, the other braced against his thigh. his head dropped back, lashes fluttering, mouth parting on soft, desperate sounds.
your name fell from his lips like a prayer.
"babygrl," he moaned, hips stuttering. "wish you were here... wish you’d let me hear you."
you pressed your thighs together harder, trembling, burning with need.
he moved faster now, fucking the toy like it was real—like it was you.
the wet sounds were filthy. obscene. echoing through your headphones like he was right there in the room with you.
"bet you’d be so tight," he panted, thrusting harder. "all hot and wet for me… fuck, i’d ruin you."
he gripped the toy tighter, biting down on a groan.
you watched every second—hypnotized, devastated.
watched his hips buck, watched the muscles in his arms flex, watched the way his stomach tensed up when he got close.
he didn’t look away from the camera once.
he fucked that toy like he was making love to you.
slow, deep, passionate.
like you were the only thing he ever wanted.
your chest heaved with every breath, nipples aching, panties soaked beyond salvation.
and when he finally shuddered, spilling hot and thick into the toy, moaning your username again in that wrecked, desperate voice—
you knew you were already ruined.
he slumped back in his chair, panting, hair a mess, lips swollen and wet from how hard he’d been biting them.
and then—
he smiled at you. soft. sweet. devastating.
"thanks for staying with me, baby," he whispered.
the screen went dark a few seconds later, leaving you staring at your own reflection, wrecked and trembling.
alone.
but never lonely again.
you hadn’t gone back.
not because you didn’t want to.
god—you did. more than anything.
but it was too much now.
something had shifted in you after that night. after watching him fuck that toy like it was yours—moaning your username like it was sacred, like he needed you to breathe.
you couldn't stop thinking about it.
the way his hand moved. the way his voice cracked when he came. the way he smiled right before the screen went black.
he ruined you, and he didn’t even know it.
you tried to forget him. muted the notifications. ignored the replays. avoided even opening the app, like a coward. like a girl who couldn’t trust herself not to break down and need again.
because now when you thought about him, it wasn’t just lust—it was hunger.
two weeks passed.
you didn’t watch a single live.
but you did think about him. in the shower. in your bed. in the quiet moments when no one was around. and every time, you pressed your thighs together and tried to chase the ghost of his voice in your head.
you thought you were safe. that this distance would protect you.
until the dm.
at first, you didn’t believe it. you were half-asleep, phone in hand, thumb swiping lazily through random memes—until the little red dot appeared in your inbox.
no one ever messaged you. even though you were kind of known in his chat, everyone respected the line. no dms. no creepiness. everything stayed inside the stream.
but this—this was different.
you opened it slowly, heart thudding.
yawnzzn [11:32 PM]:
been kinda sad u haven’t joined the lives lately :( miss seeing ur name pop up every night.
your heart stopped.
it was him.
he messaged you first.
and now everything inside you was heat and panic and that same damn ache he always left behind.
you stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, your whole body on fire from just one line.
he missed you.
he noticed you.
and worst of all—he cared.
you stared at the screen for what felt like an hour.
your thumb hovered over the keyboard, mind racing, heart hammering. he’d messaged you. yeonjun—yawnzzn. the boy you’d been secretly watching for months, who moaned your username like a lover, who made you cum more times than you could admit.
and now he was in your inbox. waiting.
you breathed in, deep and shaky. then finally, you typed. slowly. carefully.
you [11:46 PM]:
i’m sorry i disappeared… i’ve just been feeling a little overwhelmed lately.
your chest felt tight when you hit send.
you almost didn’t expect him to answer right away—but less than a minute later, the typing bubble popped up.
yawnzzn [11:47 PM]:
overwhelmed? like… because of me?
your face burned.
fuck.
you should’ve lied.
but maybe it was the way he asked it—gentle, teasing, soft.
you hesitated for a second, then typed again. a little braver.
you [11:49 PM]:
yeah.
i think watching you became… a little too much for me.
you hit send before you could regret it.
then added one more line.
you [11:49 PM]:
you make me feel things i don’t know how to deal with.
there was a long pause.
long enough to make your stomach twist. long enough for you to want to unsend everything and run.
but then:
yawnzzn [11:53 PM]:
…fuck.
that’s probably the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
your breath hitched.
yawnzzn [11:54 PM]:
i thought maybe i was imagining it. the way you looked at me. how you never talked but always stayed until the end.
i always felt like… you were watching differently.
you swallowed hard, heart in your throat.
yawnzzn [11:54 PM]:
can i ask what it is exactly i make you feel?
his words lingered on your screen, sweet and dangerous.
you could lie.
or you could tell the truth, even if it made your skin burn and your thighs clench and your whole body betray you.
you told him.
typed it all out, trembling fingers and flushed skin—how much he turned you on. how just watching him made you ache. how you’d touched yourself to the sound of his voice so many times it scared you.
he didn’t tease you.
he just replied:
yawnzzn [12:02 AM]:
you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that from you.
the next night, he asked if he could call you. just for a second. just to hear your voice.
you hesitated. but then said yes.
the screen lit up with his face—hoodie on, smile soft, and it was dark in his room.
you couldn’t show your face right away.
your camera stayed off while you whispered hello.
you expected him to sound different. more confident. more teasing.
but he didn’t.
he sounded gentle. nervous. warm.
“can i see you?” he asked softly. “just a glimpse?”
your heart pounded as you turned your camera on.
you were in a hoodie. no makeup. hair a mess. you hated the way your stomach twisted.
but he smiled.
really smiled.
“wow,” he whispered. “you’re… so much prettier than anything i ever imagined.”
you only lasted five minutes before you panicked and hung up, stammering out an apology.
he didn’t push you.
he just texted:
yawnzzn [12:28 AM]:
you looked beautiful. thank you for letting me see you.
the days after that were soft. messy. hot.
late-night texting turned into slow, sticky sexting.
he’d ask if you were touching yourself. you’d ask what he was wearing. sometimes, he’d send you voice notes, low and breathy, moaning your username until you were whimpering into your pillow.
eventually, he asked to see you again. in person this time.
you said yes.
but something about it scared you—the way your heart twisted at the idea of being real to him. what if you weren’t enough?
and then, the idea.
he texted you in the middle of the night:
yawnzzn [1:03 AM]:
what if we did a stream together?
i could blur your face. or you could wear a mask. sunglasses. anything.
i just want them to see that i’m finally fucking the one person i actually wanted.
your heart stopped.
you said no, at first. embarrassed. shy. it felt too raw, too exposing.
but that night, in the dark, with your hand between your thighs and his voice playing in your head, you imagined it.
imagined being on his lap. riding him in front of the same camera that once made you weak. imagined hearing him moan your name into your neck while the whole world watched.
you texted him at 2:11 AM.
you [2:11 AM]:
i’ll do it.
but only if i wear a mask.
his room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor and a red led strip that cast everything in that deep, sinful color. your silhouette, perched on your knees between his thighs, looked unreal—masked, trembling, mouth parted in anticipation. he was already hard, the thick outline of his cock pressing against his grey sweats, and the stream had barely started.
yeonjun leaned back in his chair, lazy smirk on his lips as he brushed a thumb across your cheekbone.
“they’ve been begging for this,” he murmured low, his mic catching every syllable. “but they don’t get you. i do.”
your fingers tugged at the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down with teasing slowness. the chat was explodingalready—hearts, donation pings, horny messages flying too fast to read.
his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and leaking, and you didn’t waste time—your lips wrapped around the head while he hissed through clenched teeth.
“fuck—yes, baby. just like that,” he moaned, voice rough and trembling.
you bobbed your head slowly at first, tongue circling the tip, making sure to be loud about it—each wet suck and messy slurp caught by the mic, echoing through the stream like the soundtrack to a dream.
he groaned and held your hair back, letting everyone see the way your lips stretched around his cock, eyes glossy behind the lace mask.
“look at her,” he murmured, gaze flicking to the camera. “taking it so good, like a perfect little slut. you’re so fucking pretty like this, baby.”
you moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs twitch. spit dripped down your chin as you took him deeper, and he let out a breathless chuckle.
“they wish they were me,” he said, licking his lips. “but only i get to feel this mouth. only i get to fuck it raw.”
you choked a little when he gently thrust into your throat, but you didn’t stop—you loved it. you loved knowing thousands were watching you drool and gag around him, craving something they could never have.
he pulled you up by your arms, lips crashing onto yours in a messy kiss. his cock was wet between your bodies, twitching, desperate.
“get on my lap,” he growled, voice thick with need.
you straddled him, one hand guiding him to your entrance as you slowly, so slowly, sank down.
the stretch was unreal, every inch of him filling you up, and you both moaned into each other’s mouths.
“oh my god,” you gasped, hips rolling instinctively.
he grunted. “fuck, baby… fuck, you’re tight—been dreaming about this cunt since the first time i saw your name in my chat.”
your hands clung to his shoulders, bouncing gently on his cock as he held your waist and thrust up, hard and deep.
“yeah? you like showing them what they can’t touch?” he panted. “you like knowing they’re all jerking off to you being mine?”
you nodded, dazed, flushed all over.
“say it,” he growled, slapping your ass.
“i’m yours,” you whimpered. “all yours, yeonjun…”
“that’s fucking right.”
he adjusted the camera angle, making sure it caught your pussy swallowing his cock over and over as you rode him in a rhythm that made your thighs shake.
“fuck, baby, i can see how wet you are,” he groaned. “dripping down my balls—look at this mess. they’re fucking jealous, huh?”
you moaned loud, thighs burning, your mask slipping slightly but you didn’t care—you were too far gone.
he dragged you up, twisted your body so your back was against his chest, legs spread wide as he pistoned up into you.
your head dropped back onto his shoulder, a string of helpless cries leaving your lips.
he reached down, thumb circling your clit fast and tight.
“you gonna cum like this?” he panted in your ear. “with all of them watching? gonna cream on my cock while the world sees who really owns this little pussy?”
your body jerked, climax rushing over you in a tidal wave of heat and noise, clenching hard around him as he grunted and chased his own.
then he flipped you over onto the desk, bending you forward, ass up for the camera.
“still not done,” he murmured, slipping back in. “they’re gonna watch me fill you up.”
he fucked you hard, fast, raw. each thrust loud and wet, your body shaking, hands gripping the edge of the desk.
“so tight, baby—gonna cum so deep—gonna knock you the fuck up on stream, yeah?”
“yes, yes, please—cum in me, yeonjun—fuck, i want it—”
he groaned, shuddering, cock pulsing deep inside as he came, buried to the hilt.
and right before he reached over to end the stream, he leaned in, kissing your masked cheek.
your professor catches you reading a not-so-safe-for-school book in the middle of his class. in an effort to make things better, you fear that you may have just made them worse.
⧼ 📜 ⧽ 一 pairing༚ ⸝⸝⸝ professor!park sunghoon ✗ student!fem!reader
includes ༚ ༚ ༚ jungwon, jay and jake of enhypen, giselle and karina of aespa
genre ༚ ༚ ༚ smut, fluff, porn with plot
warnings༚ ⸝⸝⸝ teacher/student, age gaps, power play, light dom/sub dynamics, dom!sunghoon, masturbation (f. rec), erotic literature, explicit language and sexual content, spanking, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, name calling (slut), wet dreams, impact play, oral (m. rec), cumming in pants, facefucking, deepthroat, big dick sunghoon, doggy style, sex on furniture, unprotected sex, creampies, talk of contraception (reader is on birth control), alcohol mentions, drinking and partying, hair pulling, size kink word count༚ 12 . 2 k | ⧼ 🗝️ ⧽ 一 to library༚
[notes.] a rewrite of a rewrite of one of the first ever fics i've ever written! this fic was originally written for soobin of txt, but i took that one down when i decided to discontinue writing for that group. but thanks to my lovely mutuals, they asked (demanded) that i rewrite it for hoon <3 this is a romanticization of student/teacher relationships where both parties are consenting adults, but it is important to note that these relationships can be problematic in real life due to one parties authority over another's and unstable power dynamics. banner done by my beloved mootie @heechwe! reblogs and feedback are very appreciated <3 i hope you enjoy!
YOUR FRENCH LITERATURE professor embodies everything you find detestable in a teacher. His classes are a monotonous drone of information, devoid of anything exciting or engaging, though that might not be entirely his fault with how painfully, mind numbingly boring the subject he teaches is. He rarely ever deviates from his tight-lipped script, and he absolutely refuses to entertain any questions or foster any interesting discussion. He never accepted late assignments or gave any extensions, his tests are ridiculously hard, and he’ll dock points off your assignments for the tiniest, stupidest reasons. Sure, it’s a difficult course, and it’s important to your major, but you swear he seems to take some kind of pleasure in making his students miserable. Each class feels like an eternity, and often you find yourself counting down the minutes until you can escape the insufferable, suffocating atmosphere of his classroom.
Yet, for some strange, inexplicable reason, you find yourself absolutely obsessed with him.
Maybe it was because you spent your time in his class focusing more on him than any of the words that came out of his mouth. His irritatingly handsome, angular face and his pouty, kissable lips, the moles on his cheeks framing his tall nose. The way his thick brow furrows and his lip curls when one of your classmates asks a question that he deems too stupid to grace with an answer. His big veiny hands and how they look shuffling papers and twirling pens, filling your head with thoughts of how they would look caressing your body. His tall, fit frame and how he towers over you whenever you come up to him, the way he has to lower his head to look you in the eye, a soldering heat bubbling in your belly from the way he makes you feel so small. You can’t stand to be his student, but you dream at night about being something else to him entirely— it’s a paradox that drives you to detrimental distraction. How can you be so obsessed with someone you loathe? His perplexing combination of qualities was like some kind of mystery you felt compelled to unravel, at the very least to put your own mind at ease.
That was when you found the novel. It was hidden in the romance section of your favorite used bookstore, squished between two old technicolor cover harlequin novels, it’s dark and simple spine juxtaposing against all the bright colors and ornate fonts. It intrigued you enough to pull it from the shelf and look it over, your cheeks heating up as you take in its cover. A headless, well-dressed man sat in a chair with his legs spread invitingly, the smart suit he was wearing disheveled and his undone belt held tightly in his hand, the leather strap resting against his inner thigh. The title Lessons in Attraction was printed where his head would be, vague but provocative enough to make your stomach flip. The man immediately reminded you of Professor Park, from the way he was dressed to the prominent veins in his hands, and when you flip the book over to read the synopsis you understand the connection. It outlines the story of a steamy romance between a strict economics professor and his teaching assistant, an innocent, young virgin who wants nothing more than to please. It was as if the author had plucked your deepest fantasies straight from your head and printed them out on paper, then planted the book in the perfect spot for you specifically to discover. You knew just from skimming through the pages that reading it would only do you more harm than good, but you just couldn’t put it down, drawn to the story like an addict needing a fix. You hid it in your stack of textbooks, and you refused to look the cashier in the eye as they checked you out.
At first, you had intended to keep it hidden in your bedroom, only to be read late at night when your roommates were either out or asleep. But as your obsession with your professor continued to deepen, so did your obsession with the novel; soon you found yourself taking it with you everywhere you went, reading snippets whenever you had the chance and quickly shoving back into your bag anytime someone would walk by or glance over at you. Your dreams devolved into graphic, vivid replays of your favorite dirty scenes, with Professor Park in the place of the professor from the story. You wake up hot and bothered every morning, and his class becomes even more difficult with your head now full of illicit, naughty fantasies. Everything he does makes your belly swirl with need, even something as simple as running a hand through his hair or adjusting his glasses— you can’t even bare to look at him, and instead try your hardest to focus on whatever boring tangent he was rambling on about… until you caught yourself fantasizing about how his deep voice would sound whispering dirty words in your ear.
You couldn’t take it anymore. Professor Park's lectures were beginning to feel more like sick torture— you needed something to keep you distracted before you went insane.
So, against your better judgement, you started to bring the novel to read in class. You sat far enough in the back that you were certain he wouldn’t notice, and your poor classmates were too bored out of their minds to look your way. It was easy to keep it hidden away tucked in your lap, so you could pretend to be writing in your notebook while you read. Something about it excited you, reading about fucking your professor with your real professor standing there in front of you, none the wiser. Being able to admire him as you indulged in your secret desires. If he caught you, you would be humiliated, but you would be lying if you said that the thought didn’t excite you…
"Miss L/N, what are you doing?”
You nearly shoot straight out of your chair, your professor’s sudden call of your name shocking you out of your reverie. You had gotten so absorbed into your novel that you had forgotten to check to see if he was looking your way. “H-huh?”
“You keep looking at your lap.” Professor Park remarks, peering up at you from his spot at the podium with an unamused frown. His thick-rimmed glasses made his pretty brown eyes appear even larger than they already were, blinking up at you like he was studying you through a magnifying glass. “You’re not on your phone, are you? You know I have a no-tolerance policy when it comes to electronics.”
“Oh! No, sir, I’m just…” your startled gaze bounces back to the book in your lap, and you swallow nervously. “Reading.”
“Reading?” Professor Park echoes, raising his brow. “What are you reading? I assume it’s not the textbook, from the look on your face.”
You blanche, trying your hardest to appear nonchalant as you snap the book shut and shove it down into the recesses of your school bag. “It’s nothing!” You reply far too quickly, sounding guiltier than sin.
Professor Park's lips pull into a thin line, his magnified eyes raking over your sweating face before trailing down to your bag, clasped protectively over your lap.
“Give it to me.” he orders curtly, stretching out his hand.
Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. “What?! W-why?!”
“Reading anything that isn’t the course material is against my class rules— I have it printed clearly on the syllabus, though with how you can never seem to pay attention I wouldn’t be surprised if you missed it when I went over it at the beginning of the semester. I would recommend looking over it again to see if there’s anything else you’ve forgotten. Now, get up and hand me that book.”
The entire class has turned to look at you now too, dozens of pairs of eyes fixated on your every move. The silence is absolutely deafening. Your heart races and your hands tremble as you squirm in your seat, trying desperately to come up with some sort of escape as if you were in a horror movie; you might as well be, because out of all the ghouls and monsters you can think of, this has to be your worst nightmare.
You consider refusing. Technically, Professor Park couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to— hell, you could walk right out of the classroom right then and there if you really wanted to, with both your book and your dignity intact. After all, you were a grown adult paying to further your education out of your own pocket. Trying to confiscate your belongings as if you were a child was borderline insulting.
But you can’t risk your grade over something like this, as embarrassing as it was, and you wouldn’t put it past him to penalize you in some way for defying your orders. You were already struggling as it was, partly because of how difficult the coursework was and mostly because of how you could never concentrate whenever Professor Park was around. To make matters even worse, passing was a requirement for your degree. Getting even more on his bad side than you already were simply not an option.
It takes every ounce of energy you have to force yourself to stand up out of your seat and trudge down to Professor Park's podium, clutching your novel against your chest like you were clutching pearls. He has to pry it out of your hand with a considerable amount of force, because you can’t seem to loosen your fingers around the cover.
You scamper back to your seat, but not before turning back to see Professor Park eye the cover with a startled expression. It would have been comical if you didn’t feel like you were seconds away from throwing up all over your desk.
He places it gingerly face-down on his desk like he was handling a dead fish, and you’re both grateful and horrified that he noticeably avoids making eye contact with you when he steps back up on his podium. “You can come by my office later to get it back, Miss L/N. I have a free period at six.”
“Yes, sir.” You answer glumly, staring at your shoes.
Luckily for you, he dismisses the class only a few minutes later, muttering about something to do with grading papers. You’ve never ran out of that lecture hall so fast in your life.
“Whoa, what’s up with you?” your friend Jungwon asks when you walk by him in the hall, looking up from his phone and tugging out his earbuds to cock his head in your direction. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”
You stop just long enough to realize that you were still running, even though you had made it nearly halfway across the building. “I’m so fucked.” You state simply.
“What? What happened? Did you do something to piss off Professor Park again?”
“Yes. No. Kind of?” you cringe inwardly. There’s absolutely no way you’re telling Jungwon about any of what happened; he’d laugh at you to the point you fear you might actually start crying. “I don’t want to talk about it. I gotta go.”
You shuffle away before he can respond, and while you feel bad ignoring him as he calls out to you in confusion, you’re focused solely on finding somewhere quiet and empty to hide out until your next class. And maybe grabbing an iced coffee or something. Just to drown out the tears as you wallow in your own misery.
Against all odds, you manage to make it through the rest of your classes. The wait was almost worse than getting caught, barely able to sit still in your seat as you panic inwardly for hours on end. If it was Professor Park's intention to psychologically torture you, he wildly succeeded.
And you’re absolutely sure it was, because the first thing you see once you step into his office is your professor lounging back in his chair reading your book.
“Professor!” you yelp.
He glances up from your book, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes as he sends you a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, Miss Y/N! You’re just in time. I was just flipping through your book here, it seems awfully… interesting.”
You gulp, your trembling hands clutching the strap of your bag in a vain attempt to ground yourself. “Um, sir!” you squeak, rushing to his side to glance over his shoulder at what page he was on, praying to whatever god that will listen that he hasn’t read anything raunchy. “I think it would be best if you, um, didn’t read that…”
“Oh?” He flips the page and quirks his brow, not even sparing you a second glance as he adjusts his glasses, “What do you mean?”
You rack your brain desperately for a good enough excuse, but you can’t think of anything other than just how mortified you were, watching helplessly as your professor’s keen eyes scan over the pages. “Can I have it back now?” you say instead, your voice small and shaking.
“Surely you can wait just a little longer— now I’m dying to know why you don’t want me to read this.” Professor Park's crooked smirk infuriates you.
Was there any possible way that you could talk your way out of this without telling him upfront that what he was holding in his hands was an erotica, one about a teacher and a student no less? You shuffle nervously, stumbling over your words as you try to stutter out something, anything, “You, um… you wouldn’t like it.”
He turns his head to look up at you again, the look in his eye sharply changing when he takes in your frightened state, into something you don’t recognize and aren’t sure you like. “How can you be sure I wouldn’t enjoy it? I’m a fan of many different genres of literature, though I’ve never read anything quite like this before. Is it some sort of romance novel? If it is, you don’t have to be ashamed, Miss Y/N. I’m sure many young women such as yourself read these sorts of novels, though I strongly discourage reading them while I’m in the middle of a lecture. It’s simply disrespectful. Now, where was I?”
He trails his finger down the page as if he was looking for his place, and you bristle. “Sir, seriously, don’t—!”
“I followed my professor to his office, watching with bated breath as he rounded his big wooden desk.” Professor Park begins to read aloud. You barely stop yourself from screaming, instead letting out a sort of pained choking sound. “He stopped to stand behind me, looking down my shoulder as if he were looking over my essay just as I was. I had made three errors in my writing, each one circled in bright red ink. He seemed more upset about it than usual.”
“Professor, please.”
“’Put that essay on my desk.’ he said, so I did.” Professor Park continues, ignoring you. He had gave the professor character a stupid, high pitched voice when he spoke, which would have been funny if you weren’t so humiliated. “’Now bend over with your elbows on my desk, so that you are looking directly at the essay. Keep your face very close.’”
“Stop it! Just let me have it!” You hated to talk to him this way, but if he continued reading any further… it took everything you had to keep yourself from running out of his office and crawling into the nearest ditch to die in.
“That’s not how you should speak to me, Miss Y/N. Now you certainly aren’t getting it back.” Professor Park retorted, his evil little smirk growing even wider. You wanted to hit him, or kick or scream, but you couldn’t do anything except stand there and try your hardest not to cry. “I was puzzled, but I followed his instructions, bending over the top of his desk so that my chest, belly and arms were pressed against the hardwood. My nose was merely a centimeter or two away from the letter, which made it difficult to read. My skirt was starting to… to slide up the backs of my thighs, but I was sure that if I moved to tug it back down, I would just get into even more trouble.”
You grimace when Professor Park's voice broke, his smile slowly starting to slide off his face and twisting into something unreadable. But he did not stop reading. “’Now read the letter to yourself. Read it over and over again.’ My professor said. I read: “In today’s rapidly evolving global landscape, the integration of technology in…” and at the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he— he… um… Oh.”
You began to feel less like wanting to die and more like you were actually dying. Professor Park stares hard at the pages for a painfully long moment, his ears turning bright cherry red, but to your surprise and absolute mortification, he began to read aloud again. His voice had dropped that cheerful quality, however, sounding winded as if he had been hit upside the head. “At the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he reeled his arm back and spanked me hard. I stopped reading with a loud gasp, shocked— the sting reverberated through my core, fiery hot, and despite my embarrassment I began to soak through my panties. At my silence, I was spanked again, even harder. ‘I said read it.’ My professor reminded me. ‘Be a good girl and follow instructions.’”
Professor Park shuts the book closed abruptly and looks up at you with a very red face and wide eyes. The tears that had been pooling in your lashes threaten to spill down your cheeks, so overcome with fear and embarrassment that your stomach turns like you're going to be sick. That was just what you needed to top off this already life-ruining experience, wasn’t it; vomiting all over your professor after he uncovers your darkest, dirtiest secret.
“This is extremely inappropriate material to bring on campus.” Professor Park finally says, his voice wavering.
“Yes, sir.”
“And that relationship, it’s… wrong. It’s against the university’s code of conduct. I— he could get fired for that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You shouldn’t be reading this. It’ll put... thoughts in your head that don’t need to be there.”
“…Yes, sir.” Part of you wants to argue with him, remind him that you’re an adult and can read whatever it is that you would like, but you don’t have the strength to.
He sighs heavily, like something important is weighing on his mind, and he hands you back your book before turning back to pour over the scattered, forgotten papers on his desk. “Go home, Miss L/N. And get rid of that book.”
You turn tail and scamper out into the hall, but you can’t help but glance back into Professor Park's office as you leave. He’s hunched over his desk with his elbows resting on the wood, his fingers tangled in his dark hair as he rests his head in his hands. It seems like something is bothering him, something bigger than grading papers or your stupid, silly book.
You don’t stick around to find out what it is.
The next morning, you receive a rather hastily written email from Professor Park telling you that he’s cancelling classes for the rest of the week. He’s come down with a cold, he claims— you and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach know better than to believe that.
You don’t see him until that next Monday, but even then he might as well not have shown up at all. He struggles to get through his lesson plan even more than usual, and he wouldn’t look away from his papers or the projector, even when one of your classmates raised their hand to ask a question. You spent the entire period gathering up the courage to go up to him after his lecture, but when you do he brushes you off with a lame, half-baked excuse about having papers to grade and no time to talk, grabbing his things in a rush and scampering out of the lecture hall before you can call out for him to come back.
The pit in your stomach opens up into a black hole, swallowing up everything except for overwhelming, gnawing anxiety. It’s eating you up inside, manifesting itself in how you’ve chewed your lips until they bled, and then bit your nails down to the quicks— anyone with eyes could see that something was weighing on you, and you became increasingly tired of all your friends asking if anything was wrong, so once you were finished with your classes you took to hiding out in your dorm room curled up on the couch, your favorite fluffy blanket wrapped around you as you sullenly binge-watched a k-drama you’ve seen a thousand times.
While you were more of a homebody, your two roommates were much the opposite. Karina and Giselle loved to go out and party. Tonight was no different, the two of them flittering around the dorm as they got ready to go out to some club, and while they had given up on trying to get you to join them a while ago, something about the way you moped about seemed to reinvigorate Karina’s desire to get you off of your ass and out on the town. She knew you better than anybody, and immediately she could sniff out that something was off.
“Why don’t you come with us? You can borrow one of my dresses.” She offers, rummaging through her collection of high heels. “It’s a Friday night, everyone’s out! We can dance, we can find some boys to take home; it’ll be fun. You look like you need some.”
“I don’t need to have fun. I need to study.” You reply solemnly, scowling, but you make no moves to get up off the couch. It was a shitty excuse even to your own ears; it was obvious you didn’t have any plans to do anything tonight except feel sorry for yourself.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” She huffs. You don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. “Something’s bothering you and you won’t even tell me or Gigi what’s wrong. Don’t you think a drink or two would be good for you? You can vent to us all night, too. I promise we’ll listen.”
“I don’t know if I even want to tell you about it.”
“Why not? We’re your best friends, Y/Nie. You can tell us anything, even if it’s stupid or embarrassing. If it’s bothering you this badly, it’s clearly something serious.”
You peer out from under the blanket to look over at Karina— the worry in her eyes makes your heart sink. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even consider taking her or Giselle up on their offers, but the way you were stuck running circles inside your head was far from normal. “You promise not to laugh at me?” She smiles warmly. “Nope. But I promise I’ll hear you out regardless.”
The loud, thumping bass reverberating throughout the club did very little to help ease your pounding headache. Your temples throbbed with every beat, the pressure so severe it felt as if your skull was just moments away from splitting in two. You don’t think you’ve ever been this uncomfortable in your life; the dress that Karina gave to you was a size or two too small, the shiny fabric so tight around your chest that you gasp for air. It would be difficult for you to breathe even in properly fitting clothes, the air hot and heavy from the throngs of sweaty bodies that surrounded you. You felt claustrophobic, the crowd closing in on you and threatening to swallow you whole— the only place to escape was to the bar, but even there you’re bombarded with flashing lights, deafening music, and the overlapping voices of everyone around you. You have to strain your ears to make out what Giselle was saying, and she was just on the barstool right next to yours.
“Aren’t you glad you came?” She giggles, sipping on a brightly colored cocktail. She had ordered a round of them for all three of you, and the amount of alcohol mixed in them felt like a sucker punch to the face, even with all the sickeningly sweet grenadine the bartender had used to try and mask the flavor. You watch in abject horror as both she and Karina downed them one by one like they were water.
“No.” you reply honestly.
“You will once you tell us what’s going on with you!” Karina interjects from your other side. “I meant it when I said I wanted you to vent to us, let it all out and give us the tea! Aeri’s dying to know.”
“It’s really embarrassing…” you admit, staring forlornly down at your own drink. “I’d rather just forget all about it.”
“It can’t be that bad. You didn’t drop your pants in front of everyone or anything, did you?”
You cringe. “God, no. It’s not like that.”
“Then it’s nothing you can’t tell us about.” Giselle shoots you a smile over the rim of her glass.
“It’s… it’s about Professor Park.”
“You and Gigi's lit professor?” Karina asks, cocking her head. “Isn’t he the one you have a massive crush on?”
Your cheeks flush, your drink becoming even more interesting as you avoid looking at either of them in the eye. “Maybe.”
“Ugh, your taste in men is the worst.” Giselle snickers. “I don’t understand why you like him so much. He’s such a dick.”
You fight down the urge to defend him— for some odd reason, you feel a surge of protectiveness over Professor Park, even when you completely agree with what Giselle is saying about him. “Yes, I like him, but that’s not the point. The point is that I totally fucked up and now I think he hates me.”
“What did you do?! Please tell me you cursed him out, he fucking deserves it.”
“No, Gigi, oh my God.” Even the mere thought of doing something like that sends shivers down your spine. “He caught me reading during class.”
“…That’s it? You’re freaking out over that?” Giselle blinks.
“It’s what I was reading that’s the problem.” you lament miserably, gathering your courage with a sip of your disgusting cocktail. “I have this book; it’s about a teacher and a student… getting together, if you know what I mean. It’s really dirty… and he caught me reading it in class. He took it, and then he read it himself right in front of me! He thinks I’m a freak. It’s been two days and he won’t even look at me.”
Karina and Giselle stare at you.
“Why the hell were you reading a smut book in class?!” Karina gasps, her dark glittery makeup making her wide eyes look even wider. “And one about a professor, too— were you trying to get caught? There’s better ways to go about telling him that you want to fuck him.”
“I don’t know— I was bored and stupid, okay?!” You had been asking yourself the same question for days, mentally beating yourself to a pulp every time it crossed your mind. “I thought he wouldn’t notice me since I sat in the back… now he’s going to tell the dean, and I’m going to get expelled, and—”
“Woah, woah, woah!” Giselle stops you in your downwards spiral, grabbing your shoulder to ground you. “You’re thinking too hard about this. He’s probably just a prude. If he was going to do something like that, he would have probably done it by now. Plus, I don’t think that’s really something you can be expelled over.”
You lean into her touch, resting your head on her shoulder as she pats your back comfortingly. “He’s mad at me…” you whine petulantly. “I was trying to get that TA position, too… fuck, I’m so screwed.”
“What would he be mad at you for? Being horny?” Karina laughs, “It’s really his own fault for snooping in your stuff.”
“I think you’ll still get it.” Giselle supplies helpfully. “You’ve really got nothing to worry about. Sure, your grade sucks, but I’ve seen the two of you talking in the hallway before— the way he looks at you is insane. And the way he looks at your ass when you leave is even crazier. You just showed him that you feel the same way about him that he does about you.”
“Don’t say that.” You groan. “You think that about every guy I talk to. There’s no way in hell that Professor Park feels anything for me except hatred.”
“If you’re really that worried about it, you can always just apologize.” Karina says, drumming her long nails against her glass. “It might not do anything, but it’ll make you feel better.”
That was the first bit of real advice either her or Giselle had given you in a while, even if it left a bad taste in your mouth. “I don’t know. I feel like that would just make things worse. I need to go to the bathroom.”
You scramble off the barstool in a rush, teetering on your heels— you weren’t even that tipsy, but every step made you feel like a newborn deer. Karina and Giselle watch you hobble away in pity.
You stumble through the crowd in search of a bathroom sign, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies. There’s little room to move around, everyone pressed up against each other dancing, too intoxicated to notice you trying to politely squeeze by. They jostle and knock you around, and you nearly trip over your own wobbly feet multiple times. Your headache grows nearly unbearable, your desperation to find an escape leading you to start pushing people out of the way so you can continue to move forward. One particularly drunk woman nearly knocks you to the ground, and she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder when you shoulder past her roughly. You hate to be rude, but you’re teetering dangerously close to your breaking point. You need to find some peace and quiet, and fast.
But all of that goes out the window when among the countless bobbing and weaving heads, you spot a frighteningly familiar pair of broad shoulders.
“Professor Park?!” you call out in shock, shoving your way towards him. “What are you doing here?!”
Without his suits and big clunky glasses on, you almost don’t recognize him. He was leaning back against the wall with two men who you vaguely recognize as other professors at the university, talking and laughing amongst themselves with beers in their hands. You admire the profile of his strong, angular nose, the way his pronounced collarbones peeked out from the loose linen shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone to show a delicious strip of tan skin. His dark hair, usually gelled back to show his forehead, was left fluffy and untamed, framing his dark, intoxicating eyes. He jumps a little at your voice, turning away from the men to look at you.
His eyes widen sharply, moving slowly from your face down to your chest. They linger there for a moment, blinking owlishly, before he tears them away from you completely, the tips of his ears turning bright red.
“Oh, um. Hello, Miss L/N.” he covers up his stutter with a weak cough, suddenly very interested in the state of his shoes. You make a quick mental note to thank Karina later for convincing you to squeeze yourself into this stupid dress.
“Oh, this is Y/N?” One of the two other men slurs gleefully, a grin stretching across his handsome face. There was a certain hunger in the way he undresses you with his eyes, scanning you head to toe like a predator. You could tell from his flushed pink cheeks that he was very drunk. “I’ve heard all about you! It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”
Something odd flashes in Professor Park's eyes and he jerks his head to shoot his friend a deathly glare. He was far too tipsy to notice.
“You’ve… heard about me?” you cringe, your heart sinking. Out of whatever Professor Park had to say about you, none of it could be anything good.
“Oh, not much, just that you’re one of the brightest students that he’s ever taught.” The other man cuts in, chuckling. He tips his head back and takes a swig of his beer, flashing you his sharp jawline. “One of his favorites to have in class, he says.”
“Such a smart head on those little shoulders! You should consider taking my econ course next year, it’d be a gift to see your pretty face in my class.” The first man adds, his crooked smirk widening.
“Jake, Jay, please.” Professor Park grits out through gritted teeth, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Miss L/N?”
You splutter as your lips refuse to form words. You?! The brightest student he’s ever had?! That was just a complete and utter lie; if it wasn’t for Giselle helping you with an extra credit assignment you had practically begged him on your knees for, you would be failing his class spectacularly. You couldn’t fathom why Professor Park would say something like that to these two men, when nearly every class he was scolding you for being late, distracted, forgetting your deadlines, a combination of all three and more. Not only that, but with what had transpired the other day still fresh and stinging… they had to be saving face or making some kind of sick joke. As you collect your thoughts, you half expect them to start pointing and laughing.
“What are you doing here?” you repeat, peering up at Professor Park's blushing face. He avoids meeting your eyes, just like how he did in class.
“Am I not allowed to enjoy the start of my weekend?” he retorts, fiddling with the pull tab on his beer. “Clearly, you’re doing the same.”
He spits out the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth. It stung like an insult. “I thought you said you were busy.” you assert, biting your lip to keep from scoffing. The liquor giving you a little too much courage; he was still Professor Park, even if now standing in front of you he looked like just any other guy.
“I… was.” He mumbles, “And now I’m not anymore. It’s really not any of your business.”
It takes everything you have to keep from blurting out that your book really wasn’t any of his business either, but you manage to hold your tongue.
“I’m sorry, I just— Sir, I need to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He says matter-of-factly. It’s far from what you were expecting him to say.
“What do you mean?” you challenge, your annoyance starting to turn sour. “It’s about the other day.”
Professor Park continues to play dumb, though he keeps throwing sidelong glances to his coworkers. “What about it?”
“I want to apologize.” You bite hard on your lower lip. For doing nothing wrong.
Professor Park's eyes snap up to meet yours, inky dark irises wide in shock. “Y/N—”
“Apologize?” Professor Park's friend— Jake, you think— butts in, raising an eyebrow. “What happened?”
All the color leaves Professor Park's face, even the blush that was slowly trailing from his cheeks down his neck. He awkwardly clears his throat and averts his gaze, putting on a show of cupping his ear and pretending to be confused. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over all of this noise! If you have a question, I’ll be in my office tomorrow afternoon. Go on and have a good night.”
“Wait, Professor—!”
“Have a good night!”
It takes you a long time to find your way back to the bar, drunk, defeated, and stewing in your own thoughts. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that Giselle and Karina have been sat waiting for you all this time, but you don’t have it in you to feel happy or grateful as you plop yourself back onto your empty barstool. Their irritation quickly shifts to confusion and worry, both shooting you odd glances as Karina tentatively hands you another cocktail.
“Are you okay?”
“Did you get lost or something?”
You take a long sip, the disgusting sweetness and the bitter liquor overpowering your senses enough to calm your racing thoughts. “I think I’m going to go and talk to Professor Park tomorrow.” is all you say.
“If you fuck him, please put in a good word for me.” Giselle slurs drunkenly in reply. “I need to pass that fucking class.”
“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you, Miss L/N?” Professor Park whispers in your ear, his deep voice dripping with honeyed venom. The fabric of his dress shirt ghosts over your back, his body so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. He has you trapped against his big wooden desk, bent over it obscenely with your ass in the air as you whimper and squirm. Your skirt and panties pool at your ankles, leaving your most intimate areas exposed for him to view. Your leaking pussy quivered from the icy cold air, your hole clenching desperately around nothing and aching to be filled.
“I’m sorry!” You mewl, voice wavering.
“You didn’t answer my question. What are you sorry for?” he presses, so deliciously condescending in the way he feigns ignorance, “Apologize to me properly and tell me what it was that you did.”
“I’ve been bad, sir. I was reading during your lecture, and I’m sorry—”
“Oh, you weren’t just reading.” Professor Park scoffs, straightening himself up and off your back. He rounds the desk to circle you like prey, his slow methodical steps echoing throughout the quiet of his office. They echo in your ears and strike a dizzying mix of fear and anticipation in your heart.
“I-I was reading smut and…” your face burns hotter than the sun, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath to will yourself to have the courage to admit what it was you were caught doing. “…And I was touching myself.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” He stops to stand at your side, his mere presence hovering above you enough to make you shudder. “Tell me exactly how you were touching that slutty little pussy.”
His words go straight to your core, making you squeeze your thighs together in need. Just a little friction was all you needed, and the edge of his desk granted a great opportunity… but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t let yourself give in to desperation and grind yourself against Professor Park's desk like a dog in heat. He would notice immediately, and it would only worsen your punishment.
“I was… I was rubbing my clit through my panties.” you admit ashamedly, “Grinding against my fingers. I was going to put one inside but you… you stopped me.”
“I could see your hand up your skirt all the way from the back of the class.” Professor Park spits, his carefully controlled demeanor cracking and his wild, untamed anger boiling to the surface. “It’s like you’re trying to get the two of us caught. You’re lucky no one else was looking… or was that what you wanted? Did you want everyone to see what a slut you are?”
“N-no!” you gasp, but the idea gets you even wetter; you wanted nothing more than for everyone to know that he was much more than just your professor, that he was yours and in turn you were his. “I’m a slut j-just for you, no one else!”
“Fuck, that’s right.” he groans lowly, his voice dripping sex. He picks up a long wooden ruler off his desk, right by your head, and points the tip at the nape of your neck. It ran slowly down the curve of your spine, a ghostly barely-there touch that left a trail of fire erupt across your skin. He stops at the plush swell of your ass, gently caressing your flesh with the cold wood. “You’re all mine. My favorite little student. You just need some discipline to put you back in your place, hm? Show me what a good girl you can be and count for me.”
He rears his arm back, poised and ready to strike. You can hear the ruler whooshing through the air, sharp and fast as he swings his arm forwards—
Your eyes snap open with a gasp. Suddenly, you’re back in your bedroom, curled up safe and sound in your bed, groggy and disoriented as you slowly come back down to reality. While you dreamt about Professor Park often, never had one felt this vivid, this real. You can still feel the echoes of his touch, the phantom pain of his ruler against your asscheek haunting you like a ghost. Your panties are soaked through completely, sticky arousal pooling in the fabric and dripping down your thighs, creating a wet spot on your sheets. You toss and turn to try and go back to sleep, but it’s no use; you’re so horny you can’t think straight, can’t ignore the dull throbbing in your core.
As your hand slides under the waistband of your panties, you decide that enough is enough.
You were at your breaking point. Your life had spiraled completely out of control in the span of just two days, all because your stupid puppy-love crush of a professor had to be nosy about your reading material. He just had to find a way to humiliate you even more than he already did, didn’t he? He could’ve just given you your book back and the two of you could have gone on with your lives. He shouldn’t have even taken your book in the first place! You could have continued fantasizing about him from the back of the class, not a worry in the world, instead of losing precious hours of sleep and mentally beating yourself up.
And after your interaction at the bar, you feel even more ridiculous. If Professor Park truly had the intention of telling someone about what he had caught you reading, wouldn’t he have told the other professors that he was with? And lying to them about you being his smartest student… you couldn’t wrap your head around it.
It was clear that he didn’t want to talk about it. But even if he wants to pretend like none of this ever happened, you just couldn’t.
There was simply no other way for you to get over all of this other than finally confronting him. You needed to make the endless spiral stop, tell him exactly what was on your mind and finally put this to bed. The longer you stew over everything that has transpired, the more your fear and anxiety boils over into anger. This was all Professor Park's fault! You needed to give him a piece of your mind, or you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move on.
Professor Park doesn’t answer until after the fifth knock, his face immediately dropping once he swings open his office door to see you standing there in front of him. His hair is a mess and his clothes are disheveled, his tie half undone and his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Anxiously he adjusts his glasses, the wide brown eyes behind them looking like a cornered deer’s. “You actually came over to apologize?” He blurts out before you can even open your mouth, genuine surprise taking over his features. “I didn’t think you—"
“Actually, no, I’m not here to apologize!” you declare, the words spilling out before you gave yourself the time to second guess yourself. You had lied awake until the sun came up thinking about what to say, and you weren’t going to let those wasted hours go to waste. “I’m here to tell you, sir, that going through my book was an invasion of my privacy! And that it’s none of your business what I read! I’m an adult, not a child, and I can do whatever I damn well please!”
Professor Park blinks owlishly, staring at you in stunned silence for so long that your newfound confidence falters and you begin to shuffle nervously.
“Oh. Um… alright.” He finally says.
“Alright?!” you echo incredulously, your irritation coming back in full swing. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and all you have to say for yourself is alright?!”
Professor Park's eyes flicker around anxiously, and it suddenly hits you that you were yelling at him in a public hallway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Yes you do!” you shriek. This really wasn’t how you were planning on any of this going, but it was far too late to turn back. You open your mouth to continue your rant, face burning hot with unbridled rage, but Professor Park quickly grabs your wrist and roughly pulls you into his office. The sudden act shocked you into silence, your eyes wide and mouth agape as he drags you all the way back to his desk.
“Listen.” He growls, his voice octaves deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “You’re acting way out of line right now. Don’t you dare ever talk to me like that, you understand me? I’m still your professor, even when we’re not in class. You’re to treat me with respect—”
“Then you treat me with respect first!” you retort, though you do manage to calm yourself down enough to lower your voice. “Playing dumb and refusing to talk to me after humiliating me in front of everyone! What was even the point of doing that? Was it just for your own sick pleasure?!”
“Y/N.” Professor Park sighs, the second time you’ve ever heard him call you by your first name— the first was at the club, but you were far too distracted to dwell on it. “I know you have some sort of feelings for me. You’re not very good at hiding it.”
Your entire world comes crashing around you, though you suppose that you shouldn’t be too surprised. You had just let yourself hope beyond reason that he would never pay you any attention.
“What I’m trying to say is… Y/N, you need to stop it. Get rid of the book. I can’t be with you, it’ll never work, okay? I’m your teacher, and ten years your senior. There’s plenty of college boys around campus for you to ogle over instead.”
“You say you can’t but… do you want to?” you ask quietly, barely above a whisper.
Professor Park doesn’t meet your eyes. “I could get in a lot of trouble, Y/N. You could too.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” You challenge, a hopeful spark igniting in your chest. He didn’t say no… and you may be looking too into things, or just clinging onto hope, but that was more than enough proof to you that your professor was hiding some feelings of his own.
“We can’t do this.” He mumbles, his voice growing wilder, more defiant.
“Sure we can! I’m an adult, you’re an adult… did I scare you away with my book or something? Look, it’s okay if it wasn’t up your alley. There’s nothing wrong with being vanilla, Professor. You don’t have to, like, spank me or anything—”
“But I do!” he interjects suddenly, his head shooting up to look at you with wild eyes. His entire face was bright crimson red.
“You… wait, what?” you must have misheard him. That was the only explanation, surely; There was no way he actually—
“I can’t stop thinking about it! I thought there was no way you’d be into anything like that, that I needed to stop thinking about you and move on like a professional, but then you go and pull this, and now I can’t go a single second without thinking about putting you over my knee! It’s driving me insane! I can’t even look at you!”
“Professor—”
“Sunghoon. God, just call me Sunghoon. I can’t handle you calling me that right now.”
You open and close your mouth a couple of times, surely looking like a fish out of water— This was the absolute last thing you expected to come out of your professor’s— Sunghoon's—mouth. Your eyes bulge out of your head, your face burns hotter than the sun… your pussy clenches pathetically. It felt like you were in a dream, almost, which might have been why you suddenly felt so brazen— if you wanted him, and he wanted you, who were you to deny him?
“Then do it.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. He looks just as shocked at your proclamation as you were. “If you want to do it that bad, do it.”
He moves in a flash, giving you no time to prepare— within seconds has you thrown over his lap on his office swivel chair, your hair hanging in your face as you blink wildly at the floor. Sunghoon brushes one of his big hands against you skirt-clad ass, barely a brush of his fingers, but you still gasp all the same.
“Do you really want this?” He breathes, voice low, his breathing hard—the outline of his cock presses hard against your stomach through his slacks, making it considerably hard to focus on the words that came out of his mouth.
It takes you a moment, but you manage to choke out a whiny “Yes, sir, please.”
Sunghoon stutters out an uneven breath, his fingers inching down to the hem of your skirt, teasing the tops of your thighs for just a moment before pulling the fabric up to expose your ass, a noticeable wet spot present on your panties.
“So pretty…” He coos. You can feel his cock twitch against your stomach, those long knobby fingers trailing along the edge of your lacy thong. “Is it okay if I take your panties off, bunny?”
You whimper and nod your head— Sunghoon lands a gentle love-tap to the junction of your thighs with an airy chuckle. “Use your words like a good girl.”
This couldn’t be happening. You had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something, anything except truly living through this fantasy come to life— Boring, bland Professor Park, the biggest prude you thought you knew, was just way too good at this, at making your legs shake and your pussy throb all the while barely touching you. In just an afternoon your reality had shifted from thinking that he had to be the world’s biggest loser virgin to thinking that he was even sexier than the professor in your book.
You weren’t sure how to feel about it, but your cunt did.
You must have stayed silent for too long, because without much warning Sunghoon lands a much harsher spank to the top of your asscheek. “Bad girl!” he admonishes, and you can hear the teasing, rotten grin in his voice “C’mon baby, use your big girl words. Tell me how much you want it.” His hot breath fans over your ear— you couldn’t hold in your moan even if you tried, the broken whine sounding weak and pathetic even to your own ears.
“P-Please, sir… please take my panties off. Please spank me.” you whimper, your face beet red and your pussy drooling— his deft fingers stroke slowly up and down your folds, feeling the wetness seep through the cotton fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep from screaming.
“That’s my good girl.” You could hear your panties rip as he tears them off of you in one solid motion, the biting cold air meeting your hot soaking cunt and making both you and Sunghoon hiss. He admires the slick leaking down your thighs for a brief silent moment, deep breathy voice cooing at the way you arch into him and his touch, before he straightens back up and lands a stinging, eye watering spank deliciously close to your core. You yelp at the sting.
“That’s for being a fucking tease,” he states, soothing your reddening flesh with a soft caress of his palm. “Being so fucking sexy all the time and driving me crazy because I thought I could never have you.”
You hadn’t realized that this was confessional. Shooting him an evil smile over your shoulder, you giggle, “You could’ve just asked.”
Another spank, this time with even more force. Your hips buck with a shrill cry spilling from your open, panting mouth, your eyes watering— you had no idea Professor Park was this strong. He refuses to give you any time to prepare, never warning you when the next hit to your ass will come. “I didn’t say you could talk back to me.” He growls.
You’re on the verge of tears from the red-hot stinging in your ass, but you still giggle at his words. “You’re kinky.”
He just rolls his eyes, spanking you again, albeit a little softer. “And this one’s for being a brat. How about you start counting for me, little girl? That’s one.”
“One?! You’ve hit me four times!” Maybe you were pushing it too far, but it just came naturally to you to fight back, make him work for your submission and obedience. You relished pushing him as far as he would go; you relished losing.
Sunghoon grabs a handful of your hair and yanks hard, making you gasp loudly and your empty pussy flutter. Leaning down close to your ear, he lets out a warning growl; “I said fucking count.”
You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Torn between bucking your hips into Professor Park's bulge and pushing back into the touch of his hand, you give a quiet, watery whimper of “One…”
The hand holding your hair lets go, your head falling limply over his knee. “That’s my girl.” He coos lowly, stroking your head.
It distracts you enough that the next harsh slap to your ass feels even more intense than any of the others before it. “T-two…”
“That’s for being so fucking disrespectful. And in front of my colleagues too, no less. It’s like you were asking for me to ruin you.” he tsks. “You need to learn to watch your mouth.”
The urge to say something smart tugs at you again, even if just to prove his point, but another spank rains down on your sore, bruising asscheeks before you can seize the opportunity.
“T-three!”
“And that’s… that’s for pushing me to put you over my lap in the first place. You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you? And now look at you, making me risk my job to teach you a lesson.” Sunghoon's voice wavers, filling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place— it was extremely difficult to focus on his words when his fingers began to trail down the curve of your ass to your sticky, quivering folds, rubbings the tip of his thumb right over your clothed core. You moan unabashedly, shifting your hips and opening your legs to give him better access to what was peeking out between your thighs.
The fifth spank never comes. He pushes two long, thick fingers between your folds, stuttering out a low moan like he was the one being touched. He starts a rough, dizzying pace almost immediately, his fingertips searching for that spongy spot inside of you. You grind your hips back against Sunghoon's fingers, a drooling mess against his slacks.
“Pr-Professor…” you whine high in your throat — you want more, want him to speed up, slow down… his touches were driving you wild. You hadn’t been touched like this ever before.
“I told you not to call me that.” He hisses, curling his fingers against your sweet spot and making you keen. “Please, call me by my name.”
“Sunghoon!” you cry out, writhing against him. You felt a passion rising within you like the hottest fire, clouding your brain. You couldn’t think of anything except of the pleasure that he gave you, couldn’t utter out anything other than his name.
“Such a slut, falling apart just on my fingers…” he chucks huskily, enamored with the filthy wet sounds your cunt made and how they echoed through the quiet office. “I’ve thought about doing this for forever, God… you’re just as beautiful as I thought you’d be.”
His thumb, wet from your arousal, comes down to rub tight, delicious circles against your sensitive, engorged clit, your strangled wail no doubt loud enough to be heard from the hallway. The building ecstasy distracts you enough for him to push in a third finger into your tight hole. The stretch burns but you love it, your hips kicking and moans growing louder and louder as he effortlessly takes you apart.
“...Too much…!” you manage to choke out, digging your teeth into the fabric of Sunghoon's slacks to keep yourself from screaming out in bliss. You felt full to the brim, pushed closer and closer to the edge with every rough flick of your clit and thrust of his perfect talented fingers. He teases a fourth finger around your leaking, stretched out rim, the threat of it alone enough to make your eyes roll back in your head.
“Oh baby, if this is too much there’s no way you’ll be able to take my cock…”
The tears that had been brimming in your eyes start to stream freely down your burning cheeks, choked hiccups and sobs wracking your body, but it was the most pleasurable agony you had ever been in. Your hips move with a mind of their own, bucking against Sunghoon's cock, thick and hard as a rock, only seeming to grow bigger and bigger every time you rub against it. You relish the sharp intakes of breath he takes every time you move against him. He was starting to fall apart too, you could tell, his voice sounding a lot less dominating and a lot more whiny and pathetic with each roll of his hips up into your tummy.
“I’m gonna… gonna make you cum on my fingers,” he whines low in his throat, his hand completely soaked in your arousal up to the wrist. “You gonna make a mess for me?”
His fingers dig impossibly and wonderfully hard into your sweet spot, that white-hot band of desire in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with each perfectly aimed thrust. You wail and sob, your hand reaching back to grab a tight fistful of his shirt sleeve. “I-I-m— ‘m gonna cum!”
Sunghoon's other hand, the one that had been stroking your hair, then comfortingly up and down your back, rises up to smack your ass, the sudden burst of stinging pain making you scream, and for real this time.
“You gotta ask first, bad girl! Gotta ask for permission b-before you cum…” His voice starts to break, his hips stuttering helplessly— the feeling of his big fat cock grinding hard against you only added to the fire in your belly.
“Can I cum? Please, sir, can I cum? I’ll be a good girl, I promise, just let me cum!” you had no control over your mouth, hardly any conscious at all— all you could focus on was the tightening in your belly, the way Sunghoon's fingers thrusted in and out of your pussy so good… you were his brainless whore, fucked dumb on his fingers.
“Shit, go on honey, my good girl… cum all over me, make a mess!” with his permission you let yourself topple over the edge, moaning and whimpering like a whore as you soak your thighs, his hand, his shirt and slacks with your juices. You lay across his lap twitching for quite some time afterwards, your chest heaving like you had just run a marathon… you’d never come before like that in your life, not as hard or for as long. Sunghoon was with you the whole way as you come down from your high, sweet as can be as he coos praises into your hair and pats your back, kissing your head when you raised it to look over your shoulder at him.
Slowly, you realize that you no longer feel his bulge poking at your belly. You release your iron grip on his shirt to slide your hand down his chest and abdomen, all the way down to gently cup his very wet crotch. “Sir…?”
“F-fuck... sorry, baby… couldn’t help it…” he turns his head away from you to hide his glowing red face, but you can see how his blush spreads down his neck and up to the tips of his ears.
“Did you just… cum?” you ask in awe and disbelief, looking down to see a dark stain spreading across the fabric of his slacks. Sunghoon only mumbles in response, refusing to answer or turn back to look at you, his blush growing an even deeper shade of red. It was all the confirmation you needed.
Professor Park came in his pants like a virgin without you even needing to touch him. Something about that alights a blazing inferno in your core, your senses overtaken with need even though you had just had an orgasm yourself.
“I want to taste it.” You breathe out, your overwhelming desire eclipsing any rational thought and taking control of your words.
“Y-you… what?” his head snaps back to you in surprise, his eyes wide and clouded with lust as they gaze headily into yours.
“Your cum, wanna taste it, want it on my tongue…” you’ve never spoken like this to anyone, your voice not feeling like your own— the words spill out from between your lips mindlessly, desperate for more of his brain numbing pleasure as you rub him through his slacks. His cock twitches underneath your fingertips, beginning to harden again from the ministrations. “Can I please suck you off, sir?”
“Fuck.” Sunghoon moans, rough and deep in his chest, the sound shooting straight to your sensitive pussy. “Yeah you can, naughty girl, come on, get on your knees and suck my cock. Clean up my mess.”
Your entire body feels limp and weak, not wanting to cooperate with you as you slide off of his lap to the floor. It takes great effort to get yourself situated, kneeling on the floor with your unsteady hands grasping at his thick thighs. He widens his legs to give you more room to get comfortable, one of his big hands instinctively coming down to tangle in your hair as your own begin to slide up the insides of his thighs towards his straining belt buckle.
Ever so slowly and meticulously you unbuckle Sunghoon's belt, the jingling of the metal buckle as it’s casted aside like music to your ears. You pull his pants and boxers down together in one rough tug, Sunghoon canting his hips to help you guide them down his thighs. His cock springs free and slaps obscenely against his belly, smearing the light fabric of his dress shirt in his thick, viscous cum. You can’t help but stop and stare, enamored by the sheer size of it— nearly as thick as a can and twice the length of one, throbbing veins making your mouth water. Cum still leaks from his angry red tip, fat and bulbous, the entirety of his length wet and shiny down to his heavy, twitching balls and neatly trimmed pubes.
You kiss the tip with a delighted grin, the contact barely-there but enough to make him throw his head back and whimper in delight. Your tongue peeks out from between your lips to slide across his slit, earning a high-pitched needy hiss from the man above you, his long fingers tightening their grip on your hair as you lick down his dripping shaft. His thick, salty cum tastes like ambrosia on your tongue, the delicious bitterness quickly getting you drunk. You can’t stop until you lick him completely clean, and even then it’s impossible for you to pull away, the feeling of his weeping cockhead heavy on your tongue far too addicting. Greedily you suck him into your mouth, relishing in the way his girth stretches your lips before swallowing him deeper and deeper until his tip knocks against the back of your throat. You can hardly fit your hands around him, let alone your mouth, fisting what couldn’t fit down your throat as you start bobbing your head. More broken tears collect on your lashes and drip down your wet cheeks, looking utterly ruined and wanton as you gaze up from between Sunghoon's legs into his hazy, unfocused eyes.
The eye contact is too much for him— his eyes roll back in his head with a whimper and his cock twitches violently inside of your mouth, the grip he has on your hair shifting from guiding your head along his shaft to tugging you off him with a sudden and disorienting strength. He pulls you off him with a wet pop, a foamy string of saliva connecting from his shiny cockhead to your needy whimpering lips.
“I’m gonna cum again if you don’t stop,” he pants, gasping for breath, “I gotta fuck that pussy first, little girl, please. Need to feel that tight cunt squeezing around me.”
“D’you wanna cum inside?” you goad, a lustful, mischievous grin overtaking your features, “Don’t worry, Hoonie, I’m on the pill. You can fill me up if you want to.”
Your words make him visibly shake, the nickname making him whimper, what was left of his flimsy resolve crumbling right before your eyes, leaving nothing but primal hunger. “Get on the fucking desk.”
You obey immediately, hardly able to contain your excitement as you stumble to your feet and bend over Sunghoon's big oak desk, wiggling your ass in the air invitingly. Your skirt was pushed up past your hips, exposing your dripping puffy hole for his eyes to feast upon.
“So pretty…” he croons behind you, his hands caressing your hips and waist. They smooth over the exposed globes of your ass, his fingers ghosting over your sticky, quivering folds. Pretty pink skirt that compliments your flushed skin, looks so delectable running through his fingers as he grabs your asscheeks and spreads them wide. “You look so cute in pink.”
he hisses in appreciation at the sight of your dripping hole quivering, sliding a finger down between your pussy lips to circle at your engorged clit. “Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, accentuating his claim with a flick of his hand— your pussy squelches obscenely, the lewd, pornographic sound making your cheeks flush. “I can’t take it anymore, I have to be inside of you— you can take it, right doll?”
“Please!” you beg, hardly able to string together a sentence, “Please, sir, put it in, I need it so bad, need your cock—”
You’re interrupted by the feeling of his cockhead slapping against your entrance, Sunghoon running the leaky tip up and down your slit a few times just to hear your little whimper before burying himself inside to the hilt in one smooth thrust. He rams into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs, his long fat shaft stretching out your hole much more than you could have ever been prepared for. The burn is indescribable, overwhelming every single one of your senses in the best way, your tight gummy walls gripping his cock like a vice as the both of you struggle to adjust.
He's so deep inside of you it feels as if he’s poked through your cervix and into your womb, his big fat mushroom head snug right beneath your belly button. You’re so deliciously full that it makes your head spin, already fucked completely brainless before he had even begun to properly move.
“Does it hurt?” he asks you softly, so gentle compared to how he carved out your insides. In any other circumstance you would find it sweet that he was this concerned, but you were certain that if he didn’t start moving inside of you right then and there, you were going to die.
“More.” you croak back in response. “Give it to me.”
With a winded groan, he relents. He pulls his cock out until just the head was inside of you, giving you not a single moment to prepare before slamming back in with a force that knocks you further up on the desk. The hardwood against your cheek does nothing to muffle your loud, unabashed shriek, so he improvises by shoving two of his thick fingers past your open lips, the musky tang of your own juices filling your mouth when you suck hungrily at the digits. He set up a punishing rhythm within seconds, his hips clapping loudly and wetly against your ass while he muffles your whines and wails. His heavy balls smack against your oversensitive clit with every rough thrust, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. The desk cuts into the skin of your hips painfully, but if anything, it only adds to the burning sweetness building steadily in the pit of your belly.
“F-fuck, I’m close already!” Sunghoon puffs against the shell of your ear, pressing himself up against your back— you’re suddenly thrown back into your dream from the night before, the way the sensations were eerily similar yet nowhere near as good as the real thing. “Gonna cum inside you, is that okay? Wanna see how pretty your pussy looks dripping my cum.”
You can only drool in response, your thoughts fragmented and scattered, babbling desperate nonsense and rolling your hips back to meet his thrusts with a dizzying force. Your body vibrates with liquid fire, heating your puffy cunt and quivering thighs— faster than ever before were you hurtling towards your climax, that familiar tightening in your core growing harder and harder to bear. You wanted nothing more than to yield to the tide, let it overtake you completely, and in turn pull Sunghoon down with you.
Your professor was going to cum inside of you. The fantasies that had haunted you for months truly became a tangible reality. What did you do to make you so lucky?
“This slutty pussy’s sucking me in so fucking tight,” he groans, his thrusts growing sloppier, “Tell me you want my cum, baby, come on. Who’s cum do you want inside of you? Tell me and I’ll give it to you!”
“Yours!” you shriek with the last remaining bits of your energy, your words nearly incomprehensible to how you sniffled and sobbed around Sunghoon's fingers. “Want your cum— my professor’s cum inside of me!”
You took a gamble, but it was just what he wanted to hear. With one last aggressive thrust, he bottoms out inside of your pulsating cunt, his bulbous cockhead kissing your battered cervix as he cums with a broken cry. The sensation of his sticky, hot seed splashing against your insides is just what you need to tip over the edge yourself, your walls clamping down on him and milking him for all he’s worth as you ride out your own climax with long, surrendering moans. He hisses from the overstimulation, but he makes no movements to pull out, letting himself soften inside of you as you both struggle to catch your breaths. Thick viscous globs of your mixed cum leak out from where you’re connected, dripping down your thighs and Sunghoon's balls to collect in a puddle on the floor.
You gaze over your shoulder to watch as he slowly and carefully pulls out, a creamy, foamy white ring formed around the base of his cock. His glasses were fogged up from his heavy breathing, his hair and clothes even more a mess than it was when he had first opened the door, his pink face so irritatingly kissable when he shoots you a nervous smile.
You cant help but giggle at him.
“You’re not going to… tell anyone about this, are you?” he asks you anxiously, opening one of the desk’s drawers to retrieve a packet of tissues.
“As long as you explain to me why you told those other professors that I was your best student.” You reply smartly, your grin widening when he scowls.
“It was the only way I could think of how to explain why I talk about you so much.” He admits, a little shy, wiping down the mess between your thighs with a fistful of cheap, scratchy tissues. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather if we continued that charade so it doesn’t look suspicious when I ask you to come to my office every once in a while.”
“Will you give me that TA position then?”
“You technically don’t qualify,” He laughs, “but I thought that was a given.”
“You won’t regret bending the rules a little, I promise.” You tell him with a wink and a smile. The love-stricken grin he shoots back at you in return makes your heart soar.
pairings: lee heeseung x f!reader, jay park x f!reader, jake sim x f!reader, park sunghoon x f!reader
synopsis: desperate to get off of your bestfriends couch, you decide to reply to an ad online in search of a roommate. sure, you were skeptical about living with four men—but if anything, just desperate. it wasn't long before you started to completely regret this decision. however, some things just might be worth the stress and anger.
part one! wc: 5.7k
tags/warnings (for this part): SMUT. theres no fivesome happening (sorry..), threesome(s), fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, pullout method, oral ( m rec), deepthroating, cum eating/cum play/just cum stuff ig, voyeurism, degradation, name calling, some praise, manhandling, sex standing up idk just trust me, no aftercare, silly bit at the end, heeseung thinks he's sooooo funny! that's it for this part i believe.
🍊: havent posted smth fr in awhile kind of nervous. not much happens except sex but thats the point of this. by the way this is one of three/four parts ♡ enjoy and Uhhhhhh uhhhuhhh uhhhhhhhh
masterlist / part two
MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT
you savored every second you spent outside of your new home.
sure, you were beyond grateful to have a place to live. in fact, you were lucky considering how quickly you got in this situation. losing your old place due to unforeseen circumstances, a.k.a, your ex boyfriend kicking you out of his apartment after you caught him cheating on you despite you paying more than half of his rent.
though, you figured his new girlfriend could handle that portion now.
you crashed on your friends couch for a few days, actively searching for anyone looking for a new roommate. she assured you that you could stay as long as you needed, and there was no need to rush, but you were stubborn and had quite the false sense of being independent.
which is why you clicked on the first ad you saw. a nice five bedroom house, the spare having its own bathroom and it was closer to campus unlike your last apartment. you couldn’t find much information on the poster, but you were desperate so you quickly dialed in the number on screen and waited while it rang.
you were taken aback when a male voice loudly boomed from the other side. you pulled the phone away from your ear and double checked the number— it was typed in correctly.
“hello?” he spoke again. “hellooooooo-”
“uh, sorry.” you cleared your throat. “i saw an ad online that you were looking for a new roo-”
the male cuts you off, “yeaahhh. man, was wondering when someone would respond.” you cringe at the way he interrupted you. “you lookin’ for someone else? no offense but you sound a little… y’know, like a girl.”
you let out a sigh, nodding even though he couldn’t see you, “i’m calling for myself… i wasn’t aware you were a man but– actually, i’m a little desperate.”
“yeah? desperate?” he chuckles. you raise an eyebrow at the response. “alright, can you meet me here then?”
caught off guard once more by the sudden eagerness of the stranger, you stuttered out a quick yes.
“cool. i’ll text you the address n’ shit.”
the phone hangs up, not sparring you a moment to respond. you blink as you stare at your phone, watching as you receive a few messages from the number you had just called.
at least you had other options if this didn’t go as planned.
jake spun around in the barstool at the kitchen island, letting out a puff of air as he waited patiently.
“you waiting for something?” jake turns his head towards the voice. jay walks through the kitchen, chewing on some kind of protein bar.
the antsy male leans forward against the counter, “our new roomie. she said she’d be here ten minutes ago.”
“oh.” jay responds before stopping in his tracks as he actually lets jakes words enter his brain. “wait, what? new roommate? she?”
“yeah man,” jake lets out another huff. “she’s late.”
“no, run that back.” the other male draws circles into the air. “when the fuck did we get a new roommate? and why is it a woman?”
“we have a new roommate?” another voice rings through the kitchen.
jake turns around in his chair with a sigh, “yes guys! jeez, you all need to learn patience– she’ll be here soon.”
“she?” the voice, belonging to heeseung, questions.
“that’s what i’m wondering!”
“ladies please, one at a time.” the male stands from his seat. “we have a new roommate, yes. she’s a woman, also yes.”
heeseung furrows his eyebrows, thinking for a moment before jay speaks up once more, “don’t we get a say in this? or at least some type of interview?”
“is she hot?” heeseung chimes in immediately after, receiving a scoff from jay.
“totally.” jake snickers. “her voice told me enough about her. sounded so nervous too, it was cute.”
“you don’t even know what she looks like?”
“you seriously only think with that dick of yours.” heeseung comments, shaking his head.
“says you!” jay frowns at the other roommate.
the doorbell rings twice, drawing the attention from all three males. heeseung straightens his posture, quickly checking his appearance in the reflection of the stainless steel refrigerator. jay finishes his protein bar in one bite and clears his throat.
jake rolls his eyes at the two, “careful now, don’t pop a boner in front of her.”
he practically skips over to the door, almost giggling out loud. he pulls the front door open just before you ring the doorbell once more. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”
you look him up and down, quite shocked at the attractive face he had.
“uh, yeah, sorry about that.” you respond, clearing your throat. “traffic was heavy.”
“that’s okay, babe.” he opens the door wider, inviting you in, not even hiding the way his eyes immediately land on your ass as you walk in front of him.
your gaze immediately fell on a taller man with red hair, who you assumed was heeseung (you weren’t viewing this house without stalking the people who resided in it), now wearing a beanie and leaned over the counter with his chin resting on his hand. he shot you a crooked smile and waved his fingers at you.
“hey roomie.”
jay looks at the man in disbelief; and so do you.
“i’m actually just here to tour and interview… right?” you turn to look at jake who shrugs.
“i mean we all agreed you could move in.”
“since whe-”
jake cuts jay off and steps closer to you, “you said you were desperate right? you don’t seem like a weirdo or a bitch so just give us a move-in date and you’re good.”
you squint your eyes at him, confused and questioning this entire thing. your friend's couch doesn’t seem like a bad idea, she even offered to renew her lease for a bigger space in a few months.
“we promise we won't bother you or anything,” he continues, “you have your own bathroom and the door has a working lock. swear on our lives you’ll barely see us.”
before you could even respond, the front door opens and slams shut. a taller man walks past you and jake, clearly locked into whatever was on his phone. he continued to walk past the kitchen before stopping and spinning around.
“new roommate.” heeseung tells him. the other male lets out an “oh” and nods his head at you before walking away, probably to his room.
you let out a sigh and the three remaining boys turn their attention back to you.
“can i just see the room?”
-
bothering you was the only thing these fools ever did.
the front door shuts with a slam and you’re immediately greeted by heeseung sprawled out on the couch scrolling through his phone, completely ignoring the mess leftover from their small house party from last night. the one that kept you up half the night despite begging them to turn in early for the sake of your sanity.
you run your hands through your hair, frustrated that the house looks exactly the same as it did early this morning. well, save for the leftover food that heeseung managed to put in the fridge. kicking off your shoes, you make your way into the kitchen and grab the trash bag that was left on the counter and start tossing all the empty beer cans and disposable cups in.
heeseung looks up from his phone to find the source of the angry slams and movements, smirking when his eyes land on you.
“woah there,” he calls out to you, “wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”
you look up from the trash bag, throwing a can in it with so much force it somehow bounces out, only fueling your anger, “save it.”
heeseung chuckles, standing up from the couch and stretching while letting out an obnoxious groan. he walks around the couch and leans against the back of it.
“are you gonna help or just stand there?” you motion towards the mess on the counters.
“no, yeah, i think i'll just stand here. i’m kind of loving this scene with you in the kitchen.”
you look at him, disbelief written all over your face, “so you’re lazy and a misogynist, nice!”
“what? no,” heeseung looks almost offended at your accusation. “no, babe, i’m not a misogynist– i literally love pussy. i could prove that to you right now if you’d like.”
“not a misogynist, just horny. got it.”
your roommate only shrugs and pulls out his phone once more. the carefree attitude of his was only adding to the frustration building in your chest. you cross your arms and glance around. “where are the others?”
heeseung hums, you only assume he’s using the full power of his brain as he recalls the whereabouts of the other three roommates, but really he’s only focusing on how your tits bounce ever so slightly with every angry movement if your arms.
“jake’s asleep, jay’s attending a group meditation and sunghoon… should be home in a few. why? miss them?”
you wanted nothing more than to take the metal scrub pad near the sink and scrub at the stupid smirk on his face. instead, you nod and take a deep breath.
the door opens just on cue however. sunghoon walks in, kicking his shoes off in two different directions with a bag of full of bottles clinking against each other. the noise of the liquor bottles only added to your rage.
“really? more alcohol?” you comment and point towards the counter where a few unopened and opened bottles sat. “you have all of this– plus the entire mini fridge full of drinks.”
sunghoon raises a brow at you, “okay. but that’s liquor for functions, not me.”
you wave your hands in front of you. it made zero sense to you.
the taller male looks at sunghoon, “what’s wrong with her?”
“man, i don't know.” heeseung replies with a sigh, “she came in here all pissy and started slamming shit.”
they were having a conversation about you– in front of you.
“what? why?”
he shrugs again, “like i said, don't know. maybe she should follow jay to one of his meditation sessions.”
you roll your eyes, “you’re not funny, heeseung.” he lets out a snicker. you grab a rag from the counter and chuck it in his direction.
sunghoon whistles at the action and sets the bags he was holding onto the counter.
“i’m seriously regretting this whole living arrangement.”
heeseung pouts and crosses his arms over his chest dramatically, “hey! we aren’t that bad to live with.” he protests, though his tone is playful. “at least give us a chance to redeem ourselves. look, we’ll help clean up the rest of the mess.”
you sigh and nod, it’s the least they could do but you won't protest. turning around, you glance at sunghoon, who was now storing away the liquor he had bought and the leftover bottles.
“...except, it looks like you’ve finished.” heeseung grins. “thanks, darling.”
you shoulders fall in defeat, “i fucking hate you.”
he chuckles loudly as you study the room. he was right. you had completely cleaned the kitchen, minus the few liquor bottles that sunghoon had just stored away.
“no, no. she missed one thing.” sunghoon calls out causing the two of you to whip your heads in his direction. he crouches down and picks up the can that bounced out of the trash bag earlier and tosses it in the trash. “hah, how funny is that? it was right next to the bag too.”
heeseungs no longer holding back his laughter. you question whether or not the dude is blasted out of his mind right now because you definitely didn’t find a single thing about this funny.
“hey, chill.” sunghoon butts in, “i’ll wipe down the counters and shit.”
you turn to face him, “did you by chance buy any cleaning supplies while out?”
“no, why?”
heeseung laughs louder, wiping at his eyes.
“i really don’t understand what could possibly be so funny about any of this.”
his laughter eventually dies down, finally shutting up. “sorry, sorry.” he clears his throat. “but seriously, thanks for cleaning up. you’re a real one for that.”
you hum and let out a sarcastic sure, heeseung nods and walks past you, patting your shoulder causing you to scrunch your face in disgust. you turn to follow his figure with your eyes, but you catch sunghoon staring at you.
“what?”
“hm, nothing. just wondering when you’re gonna snap out of your little tantrum.” he responds calmly, leaning against the counter. “it’s getting old, to be honest with you.”
you bite your lip, holding back a response to him. you watch as heeseung wipes his hand on a paper towel, throwing it on the counter right after.
sunghoon sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “seriously, what’s the big deal? nobody here is forcing you to clean up after us.”
“but it’s all the time,” you groan. “the constant parties and get-togethers you host while i’m trying to sleep after a long day or studying– then having to come out and clean it all up because you three are nowhere to be seen? i can only deal with so much.”
his expression hardens and heeseung leans against the counter with a bored expression, “well, maybe if you’d let loose for once and joined in on the fun every once in a while, instead of holing yourself up in your room like a hermit, you wouldn’t be so uptight.”
“fuck off.”
sunghoon scoffs, “my point exactly. you’re so uptight and bitchy— it’s not fun. you aren’t better than us for that.”
“sorry i don’t want to be involved in your weird ass parties.” you respond with a shrug.
“such a princess,” heeseung giggles, “always complaining, never participating. seriously, they aren’t as bad as you make them seem.”
sunghoon nods in agreement, “yeah, i’m telling you that you’d be able to tolerate us a lot more if you cared to let go of that boring, angry personality of yours and showed up.”
you throw your hands up, more than done with the conversation. “whatever, i don’t care anymore. just… just clean up a little more. it’s all i ask.”
heeseung pouts exaggeratedly, eyeing the way you surrender in defeat “oh come on, princess. don’t be like that.” he tries to sound apologetic, “we’re only messing around with you.”
“yeah! we don’t care if you prude around alone in your room!” sunghoon adds, “but just for you, we’ll clean up after ourselves, your highness.”
“you both are childish.” you spit out, biting the inside of your cheeks as the frustration threatens to spill out in the form of tears.
heeseung grins, not at all put off by your insult, “childish? rich coming from the girl who’s about to cry from a little teasing.” he taunts, voice laced with amusement.
you scoff in response, turning around so you could leave the situation and escape to your room, but sunghoon has other plans as he steps right in front of you. his arms automatically wrap around your waist to steady you, his face mere inches away from you as you look up at him, shooting him a glare.
“where do you think you’re going, princess?” he flashes you a knowing smile, voice low and teasing.
you attempt to lean away from his face that only seems to inch closer, jumping slightly when the back of your head comes into contact with heeseungs chin. “to my room– away from the two of you.”
“oh, don’t let us stop you then.” heeseung grins from behind, his cheek nuzzling against your hair.
“let me go then?”
“but we weren’t done,” sunghoon attempts to feign a pout, but his smirk grows stronger as he studies the way your body reacts to him, “we still have to thank you for cleaning the mess up.”
heeseung hums against your ear, “seriously. how sweet of you, doll.”
“you can thank me by leaving me alone.” you mumble, though you do nothing to back away from the situation. you couldn’t deny the way your heartbeat sped up from being sandwiched between the two, or the way your core pulsed from the way sunghoon traced small patterns into your side.
sunghoon chuckles, all knowing of what was running through your mind, “aw, but where’s the fun in that?” he asks, hands sliding down to your hips, giving them a teasing squeeze. “we love spending time with our favorite roomie.”
your hands fall on top of his, unsure on whether or not you should remove them from your hips. his eyes follow the movements of your hands, letting out a soft chuckle as he watches the way your mind struggles against the need you feel for the two.
“mm, not so fast baby.” heeseung purrs, his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear. “what did we say? gotta give you a proper thank you.”
“how?”
sunghoon smiles, looking at heeseung before turning his attention back to you. “they say actions speak louder than words,” he responds. “we’ll make sure to make it very clear just how grateful we are for you.”
you gulp as he responds, your thighs clenching together at the tone of his voice. the gaze in his eyes told you exactly what the two men wanted from you, the way they looked at you as if you were prey.
heeseung grows impatient from behind, his face nuzzling against your skin as he peppers kisses down your neck until he reaches your shoulder, biting the skin causing you to let out a gasp. he chuckles darkly before tucking his finger under the thin strap of your tank top and letting it fall off your shoulder.
he lifts his head and switches to your other shoulder, resting his chin on your shoulder as he travels his hand down your torso, reaching the waistband of your shorts.
your automatic response is to grab his hands but sunghoon shakes his head and grabs them, linking his fingers between yours and bringing them up to his shoulders. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting your cheek.
sunghoon begins planting soft but deliberate kisses against your skin, following the trail that heeseung had left earlier, kissing and sucking the bite mark left by the other male.
the man behind you takes the chance, shoving his hand down your shorts that he had undone moments before while you were distracted. he grins when he doesn’t feel any other fabric beneath your shorts.
“isn’t that just convenient?” he grins, giddy at the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear.
“w-wait,” you stutter out, suddenly aware of where you were standing.
sunghoon grips one of your hands, guiding it over his chest, “shh, it’s fine.”
heeseungs hand dips lower, his middle finger sliding through your slit. he lets out a groan before removing his hand from your shorts but quickly yanks them down, letting them fall to your ankles.
you let out a small yelp due to the quickness of the male. he glides his finger from your dripping hold, gathering your slick and moving to your clit, tapping it a few times before pressing down.
“can’t believe you’re already this wet just from a little bit of touching,” he groans against your shoulder. “really thought we’d have to ease you into this– but you wanted this bad, huh?”
sunghoon smirks against your neck, lifting his head, wanting to see your face as heeseung pleasures you with his fingers, “c’mon, don’t tease her. poor girl probably hasn’t been touched properly in awhile.”
“is that true?” the male behind you questions softly but teasing, “were you just waiting for one of us to fuck you stupid?”
their teasing voices combined with heeseungs fingers massaging at your clit cause you to let out a soft whine. one buck of your hips has sunghoon reaching down and holding your hips in place for heeseung to continue his attack on your sensitive bud.
“you don’t even have to respond,” sunghoon mutters, “look at the way you’re whining and squirming.”
heeseung slips a finger in your core, pumping a few times before slipping another one inside of you. the feeling of your warm cunt walls wrapped around his fingers is enough to send him reeling, he grinds his hips into your ass with a grunt.
the male in front of you has to tighten his grip on your hips, rolling his eyes. you let out a loud moan when heeseung curls his fingers inside of you, he brings his other hand to cover your mouth.
“don’t wanna wake jakey up, do you?” his voice is low, hot breath hitting the side of your face. you shake your head desperately as he continues to finger fuck you, scissoring and curling his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside of you with ease.
“look at her, hee.” sunghoon mumbles, admiring the way you look between the two men, “so pretty like this, isn’t she? if i knew this was a good way to get her to shut up, i'd have done it earlier.”
heeseung chuckles darkly, lips trailing against your neck once more, “she’s so fuckin’ greedy too. literally dripping down my hand… aren’t you, baby?”
you let out a muffled whine and nod your head shamelessly.
“yeah? you’re doing so good like this,” he continues, “but i think you need more.”
heeseung pulls his fingers out of you and removes his hand from your mouth. you’re about to question him but he’s pushing you forward while pulling your hips back against him. sunghoon holds you steady as the male behind you undoes his pants.
“take your time, hee.” sunghoon comments, slowly losing his patience. “jay’s gonna be home soon.”
“‘m fucking trying,” he mutters in response, successfully freeing his hardened cock with his one hand. “hold her still and shut up.”
sunghoon rolls his head back in irritation and tightens his grip on you.
“you’ll need to cover her mouth too. i’m not sharing her between you and jake today.”
your taller roommate doesn’t respond again but brings his hand up to your mouth with a smirk. you whimper softly through his hand when you feel heeseung slide his tip through your wetness, gathering it on his cock. he rocks his hips a few times, teasing your clit before catching onto your hole and slowly pushing in.
“fuuuck,” he hisses. “she’s so damn tight, sunghoon.”
“just fuck her,” sunghoon responds impatiently, he tilts his head down at you. “that’s what you want right, babygirl?”
you let out a muffled grunt when heeseung bottoms out inside of you. he waits only a few moments before pulling out almost completely, then pushing back inside of you with more force and speed.
the two men have you perfectly held in place, controlling the movements of your body as heeseung speeds up his thrusts. each rock of his hips draws out a moan from you, covered by sunghoons hand.
heeseung groans softly, his pace never slowing as he takes all the pleasure he can get from your body. “she’s seriously so tight.” he growls, his grip tightening on your body. “feel that? feel how well you wrap around my cock, baby?”
your eyes squeeze shut from the pleasure. your cunt continues to squeeze around his cock as he pounds into you. sunghoon watches the way his roommates cock disappears inside of you, the way your juices glisten everytime he pulls out before slamming back in.
his own cock twitches in his pants, he’s so painfully hard and getting impatient. sunghoon wishes it were just him here instead of heeseung, wishing it were him being the one to fuck you– and only him. you let out a high pitch whine as heeseung speeds up his pace, his tip hitting your g-spot deliciously. he brings a hand down to rub at you clit, causing you to jump from the overwhelming pleasure.
“mm, she jus’ gets tighter.” he slurs, drunk on the way your pussy sucks him in. “you like that, don’t you? shit.. y’gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”
your eyes are shut, in a complete daze from the way his cock is fucking you. sunghoon smirks at the sight, in love with the way you’re fully enjoying every second of this.
“minutes ago you were about to rip our heads off,” he coos, “now you’re over here drooling on my hand over some cock. just a little slut, aren't you? maybe i was wrong about you being a prude.”
heeseung’s barely keeping it together behind you as his hips meet your ass with haste, hissing and groaning with each thrust. he’s uncoordinated and sloppy yet still hitting that spot deep inside of you, throwing your body towards sunghoon, who keeps a bruising grip on you as the other male pounds into you.
your past self would be embarrassed to see you now, yet, you couldn’t feel an ounce of shame at the moment. it feels as if heeseung’s fucking all the frustration out of you.
it’s dirty. the way the two men have you sandwiched in the kitchen— straight out of a cheap porno. every time you start to think about jay or jake strolling in and catching the three of you, it only makes your core throb more with need.
“what are you thinking about?” sunghoon whispers, leaning closer, offering his chest for your head to lean against. “hmm, baby? you thinking about something else while fucking yourself on heeseungs cock?”
the male mentioned lets out a loud groan, gripping your hips and pulling you back harder against him. you could tell he was close, as were you. your hands tug on the fabric of sunghoons shirt, attempting to pull yourself up. but with his hand on your mouth, you can’t let them know so you rely on your body language.
“gonna cum for me?” heeseung grumbles, leaning closer to you. his thrusts are deep and rough as he chases his high. “c’mon, cum on this cock…”
you feel your cunt flutter around him as you hit your peak, a muffled squeal leaving your mouth as you finally cum. heeseung pants, giving you a few more thrusts before pulling out completely and fisting his cock until he’s cumming all over your lower back and ass.
sunghoon removes his hand from your mouth causing you to take a deep breath, he wipes his hand on his pant leg which goes unnoticed by you.
“jesus-” heeseung breathes out from behind you, hand gripping the counter. “fuck, that was good. why didn’t you tell me you felt this good before?”
you don’t reply to him– you just continue to lean against sunghoon as you regain all composure. the tall male keeps a hand on your waist as the other slowly unbuckles his belt. your other roommate redresses himself after using a paper towel to wipe himself down, giving your ass a small smack in the process.
“yo,” sunghoon calls out to him, earning a raised eyebrow in response. he cocks his head behind him. “keep jake in his room, yeah?”
“now?”
the man you were still using as support scoffs, “yes, dude. now..”
heeseungs stands there for a moment, looking at you as you finally turn around, slowly reaching to pull your shorts up. he clicks his tongue and walks off with a groan.
as soon as his footsteps fade away, sunghoon yanks your arm away from the article of clothing and pushes you against the kitchen counter. you gasp when the cold countertop makes contact with your skin. “s-sunghoon!”
he smacks his lips and pushes your sticky lower back down to keep you still, “you seriously thought i was about to let you walk away? after you made me watch him fuck you like that?”
he lifts his now cum covered hand off your back, studying it for a few moments. “not gonna let me have any fun? especially after you used me like a fucking wall?” he grips your face with his other hand, leaning over you as he shoves his fingers in your mouth.
the thick salty flavor hits your tongue immediately and you close your lips around his soaked fingers, the rest of the cum on his hand completely coating your chin and jaw.
“you like that?” sunghoon chuckles darkly. “you know how pathetic you look right now?”
you groan around his fingers as he rocks his hips against you, grinding his bare cock in your slick. he doesn’t waste a second before shoving himself inside of you causing you to bite down on his fingers from the sudden full feeling once again.
sunghoon hisses in response, pulling out before roughly thrusting into you. the corner of the counter is digging into your hip but you couldn’t be bothered to resituate yourself. he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and snakes his hand in between your thighs, pressing against your clit as he starts to pound into you. his other hand is on the back of your neck, a tight grip as he uses it to stabilize himself.
your own cum is dripping down your thighs as sunghoon’s cock forces it out with each thrust. it’s truly a struggle to stay quiet, your moans are coming out in rough whimpers and deep breaths. you lay your upper body flat against the counter and hide your face in your arms to help muffle your sounds of pleasure.
though it wouldn’t even matter if anyone could hear your cries because the sound of wet skin slapping against each other could surely be heard from the other side of the neighborhood.
“fuck, you’re taking me so good right now. heeseung loosened you up for me, didn’t he?” sunghoons voice is low and rough, almost stuttering over his words. “so fuckin’ greedy for cock– look at you.”
if it weren’t for your arms, your face would be squashed into the hard countertops from the sheer force of his hand around the back of your neck pushing it down. sunghoon doesn’t notice, nor does he care about his roughness because truly all he cares about is cumming.
you can hear the door slam and you try to lift your hand, in sheer panic, but sunghoon shoves it back down with a grumble.
“t’sup?” sunghoon lets out a sigh and throws his head back.
“nothing,” the voice, belonging to jay, responds. he throws a few envelopes on the counter and sighs. “another noise complaint– like dude, who fucking cares? they act like the cops are gonna bust us or something.”
never in a million years did you think you would be getting backshots while two people had a completely casual conversation as you were between them.
sunghoon groans, his pace barely slowing, “my parents own half this fuckin’ neighborhood.”
“that’s what i’m saying! these complaints are useless.” jay responds, an annoyed tone lacing his voice. “is that– y’know what, i’m tired. clean the counters when you’re done.”
and with that, jay is walking away. you only hope he’s heading to his bedroom. however, your entire body is hot with embarrassment yet you feel yourself about to cum any second.
“fuck– sunghoon! s-slow down.” you barely cry out as you cream around his cock. he rolls his eyes, not that you could see, before pulling out completely.
you take a deep breath before he grabs you and spins you around, pushing you to your knees. your hands fly to his thighs, trying to catch yourself before bruising your knees.
sunghoon spares you a wicked smirk before tapping the tip of his cock against your lips, in which you invite him in with zero hesitance. he doesn’t start slow, immediately pushing his cock to your throat, enough to bring tears to your eyes before pulling out to let you breathe.
and he does it again. and again. until you're coughing around his cock.
“yeah, just like that, baby.” the male sighs, hand gripping your hair. he lets you take another deep breath before shoving his cock deeper down your throat. “look at you gagging– fuck, this is so good.”
he repeats his actions until his cock is twitching with the need to cum. sunghoon gives a few thrusts before pulling back slightly and cumming all over your tongue and throat. his release was almost too much for you, but he didn’t care that it was dripping out of your mouth, or that you were borderline choking on it.
“swallow.”
you try to shake your head no but he only tugs on your hair, “you can.”
shakily, you cover your mouth as you gulp, swallowing his sticky release. sunghoon chuckles, completely satisfied.
“you’re so fucking easy, you know that?” he cooes. his thumb, sticky with heeseungs earlier release, wipes at your tears. you can only stare at him as he continues to degrade you. “oh, don’t be ashamed, princess, it’s perfect for us.”
you wipe at the corner of your mouth before grabbing your shorts that are laid close by. grabbing the counter edge above, you pull yourself up, not at all wanting to ask for sunghoons help. he leans against the counter, fixing his belt, completely uninterested in you.
slipping the shorts on felt useless in front of him. what was there to hide at this point?
“i’m gonna shower.”
“yeah, sure. i’ll try not to use any hot water for the next hour.”
you give him a nod. well, this is fucking weird. but you honestly would rather take this than it be awkward. genuinely, you would rather not have him force himself to give you soft and sweet aftercare.
“jays cooking tonight!” sunghoon calls out to you as you head back to your room. you roll your eyes and push your door open.
you:
hypothetically, i have this friend who wanted to move out of her current place because she HATES her roommates but she just fucked 2 of them…. at the same time and suddenly doesnt want to leave
synopsis : au where seemingly innocent jake has his favorite hidden secret tucked away for his eyes only; a story in which jake has his very own angel to confide all his sins in.
pairing : jake x fem. reader
genre : smut/pwp, a lil too much plot, established relationship?
word count : 9.9k
note : this is a work of fiction and has no relation to the real people mentioned! i do not see enha this way! in case of confusion, the story switches from present day to past; italicized text is the past -> playlist
content advisory : sexually explicit content, obsessive!jake, stalker!jake, needy!jake, praise!kink, oral (f.), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding!kink, biting, blood, corrupt!reader, religious themes and concepts, implied non-con if you squint, psychological horror elements, chained ankle / stockholm syndrome type shi
there you sit, wrapped in your thickest blanket and watching outside the window. the faint hum of the heater running blends into the silence of the home you’ve come to accept as your own. you can hardly remember what day it is anymore, or how long it’s been since you’ve last been outside the confines of this hidden property. if you had to guess, it’s been nearly a year. the fact that the winter season has come around again is your only clue as to the length of passing time.
on days where you’re left to your own devices you can’t help but think, and think, and think. there’s only so many books you can read, or shows and movies you can watch before it all blends together, leaving you with the same emptiness as before. a little worse each time. maladaptive daydreaming is a habit you’ve had since childhood. you like to create your own stories and scenarios in your head. before it was a fun, silly escape from work or school. now it’s the only escape you actually have. but even dreaming becomes exhausting. especially when you come to realize how out of reach it is.
as you wait for the return of your only source of human connection, you begin to recall the last days that you felt human.
it was new years eve on your last day of normalcy, but there’s more to look back on before that fateful night.
you glance at the grandfather clock, hanging on the wall. the time read 9:30. jake wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half. you sigh and the beautiful golden and white dog who laid beside you sits up. layla. she tilts her head as she looks as if to ask, ‘what’s wrong?’. you shake your head and give the dog a soft smile. your hand escapes the warmth of the blanket to reach out and pet her head.
“it’s nothing, layla…” your eyes look back out to the window. the ground and trees covered in a thin layer of powdery white snow. “but i do think i miss having something to believe in.” your voice trails off into quiet as you continue to take in the cold, morning atmosphere. It was prepossessing, like a painting. but one in which you lived as a meer shadow.
you often think to yourself, does your family still wonder where you disappeared to? did they think you ran away? how are they doing? do your friends still think of you as much as you do them? did they search for you? how long? are you dead to everyone you loved? there were too many questions that would more than likely go unanswered. you tried to ask. you tried a lot. but it never ended well, so eventually you learned to stop. it’s at times like this, where you’re left alone with nothing but your thoughts, that it all swallows you whole.
you allowed so much to happen. the biggest fault to your personality was how trusting you were in the world, in people. yet another fault was you couldn’t bring yourself to truly hate anyone. especially not jake. you could hate yourself, however. and you did hate that you loved him. despite all that he’s done, you always kiss him back with compassion.
it all played out as if it were your destined fate to be his, or the judgement to an early punishment.
you were still relatively new to town at the time. having that your family only moved there at the end of summer. and it took your parents no time to find a new church to drag you along to. it’s not that you hated going, but as you got older you certainly began to question the faith that was forced upon you since childhood.
“mommm,” you complained, using your best whiny voice to annoy her, “i’ve grown up, ya know? i’m old enough to make my own decisions, my own opinions. why do i have to go too?” perhaps this behavior was contradictory to your statement, but playing it safe was your best option. if you were too serious she would begin to lecture you. the last thing you wanted this early in the morning was her bible down your throat.
she sent you a glare and said your name sternly, “are you trying to rebel against your own beliefs because you’re mad about the move? i thought you were growing up?” ah yes, there she goes completely missing your point.
“oh my gosh, mom, i am not rebelling. i just think by now—” you wanted to continue on, but your mother was eager to cut you off. maybe it was better to withhold this argument with her anyways. your father was no help either, his eyes bouncing between his wife and daughter with uncertainty. he too played it safe and just nodded along with whatever your mother said. you doubted he was even listening.
“it’ll be a good way to get to know the community. you ought to find yourself a good catholic boy, too.” she placed her hands on her hips, side-eyeing your exaggerated and exhausted expression. “come with us for 1 month. that’s all i ask, okay?” her words didn’t match her tone. through her frustration, she at least gave an easy compromise.
“yeah… because those guys are so pure.” you mumbled under your breath. “fine, but only for a month.” you couldn’t turn it down. internally you were excited to break free from the custom sunday routine.
despite not wanting to go, you found yourself not disliking it as much as you initially thought. you made friends your age rather quickly, one even helped you get your first job at the library in town. you found a quiet solace in covering and putting books away. zoning out while filing books? love it. daydreaming when you didn’t have to help people with minimal questions? perfect. you got to do easy tasks, read, and organize; it was simple and you could shut your brain off for a while. it was so nice that you quickly forgot how life was like before you came to town.
the friends you made were fun too. they were kind, funny, and kept you busy. you all went out often whether it being grabbing food, watching a movie, getting your nails done, or just gossiping in the parking lot late at night. you always enjoyed your time with them. even if it was at church, where all of your parents expected you to be at.
but even better than that, there was a really cute guy in the church choir who couldn’t take his eyes off you. sitting in the pews, you would often find yourself meeting his eyes only to shyly look away with a warm blush on your cheeks. in your peripherals, he would bite at his lip to conceal his smiles, eyes still eye on you through prayer and hymn. he was so pretty with his long brown hair cascaded and framing his face. you swear the dark coffee color of his eyes sparkled, even without the blinding fluorescent lights. his smile though, his smile was enough for you to thank god that you could be in his presence. he was truly like a fairytale prince come to life. it’s safe to say he, jake, alone made every sunday worth looking forward to. you didn’t have to fight with your parents about going because you found your own reason to go. and of course your friends.
“geez, jake just can’t ever seem to stop staring at you, huh?” karina giggled through a quiet voice as she elbowed your arm. you couldn’t help but smile, elbowing her back. when did mass end? had you been so lost in thought that you didn’t realize you both were walking to her car? ‘you gotta daydream a little less’, you internally remind yourself.
“so i’m not crazy for thinking he’s always looking in my direction?” you breathed out a laugh, waving a goodbye to your parents that were headed towards their car and back home.
“oh, come on! just in your direction? he’s practically undressing you whenever you’re in the same room as him. and this is a chapel for christ’s sake! god knows what he could possibly be thinking of in a place like this--” you quickly cover karina’s mouth to quiet the growing volume of her voice. your eyes frantically glancing around to make sure no one overheard, and for hopefully no sign of jake or his friends around.
“shh! what if someone overheard you say that!” your was voice hushed and tone so serious but all your friend could do was laugh into your hands. you drop your hands from her face and cross your arms. a sheepish look takes over your appearance. “at least get into your car before speaking about him or saying stuff like that…” you turn and open the car door to slip into the passenger's seat.
“you’re so cute but,” she exhaled dramatically and said your name with a smile, “when are you going to stop pretending to be so innocent? it’s about time, don’t you think?” karina winks at you before closing your door and walking around to the driver’s side of the car to get in. you blush at that. thankfully it’s been cold these days so your flushed cheeks can be passed off as a chill to the weather.
you look around the church parking lot and back to the chapel building. the front doors swing open and out walks jake himself, along with his friends you only know the names of because of giselle, your other friend. they were all in the choir together. jake, jay, and sunghoon walk down the front door steps as they’re talking. before you can look away, jake’s eyes found yours. he gave you a smile to which you returned bashfully, turning your attention to karina who was flipping through songs on her phone. “giselle, isn’t coming today so we don’t have to wait for her. she’s staying back to practice a song for next weekend.” karina informed you while starting the car. the heater builds up slowly, warming both of your shivering bodies.
“so we’re going to the library--” you begin to speak but karina makes a shrill noise of excitement.
“oh my gosh! i almost forgot to tell you! giselle is having a new years eve party this friday. our friend minjeong is coming from busan too, i’m sure you’ll love her…” unintentionally you zone out as she rambles. you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. you would say it’s jake but this is similar to something in which you’ve been feeling more often than not lately. in places where he wouldn’t be, or shouldn’t be. like at the library, at restaurants, at home, or walking through town. with quick glances you search for the eyes that you certainly feel. the group of boys aren’t standing in front of the chapel anymore. it’s just families standing around and chatting amongst each other or people saying their goodbyes and thank yous to the priest. huh? habitually, you can't seem to find anyone. how strange.
“jake will be there too.” karina catches your attention again, “were you even listening to me? geez, you can be such a weirdo sometimes, ya know?” she laughed lightly, her tone teasing. she playfully hit your arm. “i’m just messing. you are always in your own world though. you’ll end up missing all the important details if you live in your head like that.”
unsure of what to say, you just apologize quietly. you look back to karina, fingers picking at the dried skin of your chapped lips. a nervous habit.
“anyways, i’m sure he’ll make his move there after months of yearning from afar.” she makes a fake gag sound, finger pointed to her mouth. you giggle. “kidding, he’s a cutie, i guess. he’s sweet and reminds me of a puppy. all the aunties here love him, too, so that’s a good sign.”
“you think so?” you don’t sound so confident, “i feel like he should’ve approached me by now. i don’t know how much flirtatious eye contact and occasional brush of skinship at church i can take…” your laugh was meek, doubtful. jake does always look so cute dressed in his sunday best.
“trust. i know this friday is the day he makes you his.” she said with a playful smirk as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the road. you leaned back into the seat, looking out at the window to watch the town pass by. all naked trees, dormant from growth, and gentle shaking of branches in the wind. it’s like they’re waving goodbye. with a small smile you didn’t care to hide on your face, you think of what could happen at the party coming friday.
neither you nor karina understood the weight and reality of her words.
“i’m surprised you came this weekend,” jay speaks up, taking strides to catch up with jake who was making his way to his car. “you barely come anymore.”
jake turns around with a forced smile and a shaky laugh, “well you know… i got other stuff going on. the job i got at the beginning of the year keeps me real busy. i’m exhausted most weekends.” he wasn’t exactly lying. he did get a promotion at his software engineering company, and it was tiring. he’s making slow steps backwards but jay and sunghoon press harder, walking with him.
“how about you come over to watch the football match?” sunghoon asked jake, who seemed eager to leave as soon as possible. he knew what jake would say, but he always asks nonetheless. this had become typical behavior of jake for a while now. he doesn’t hangout as often. whenever he does come out, he’s antsy, not fully there. it saddens him to see that his best friend is happiest when he’s about to leave.
“hoon, you know i got my girls at home…” jake laughs lightly. his hands stuffed into his coat pockets and gripping his keys. all he could think about was getting home layla, to you. he shifts his weight from foot to foot, eyeing his car, worried of looking too ready to walk away from his friends. he should be worried, because the two guys picked up on this routine a while ago.
“girls?” jay questions with a raised eyebrow, “like plural? you have something you’re not telling us?” his chuckle was short. his arms crossed while inquisitively awaiting jake’s response. “cuz if you got a girl now and haven’t told us, it would make us feel like shit. although it would help make sense of you being around less and less.”
“girl!” jake’s hands shot up, waving around as if to wave the thought from the air, “my girl, layla, you know…” jake didn’t want to come off as nervous as he felt inside. he couldn’t panic or they’d know something was up, “she’s been home alone all morning. she’ll need a walk outside or her water refilled… it could snow again soon and i live further out than you guys so the drive--”
“it’s fine.” sunghoon forced a tight lip smile, “next time, right?” he begins to turn away but then jay speaks up again.
“or we could both go to your place.” jay suggests, “we haven’t been over in months. not that you let us stay very long anyways.” jay’s eyes don’t laugh with him, he looks down to kick a rock awkwardly. he didn’t want to be rude with jake, but sunghoon won’t speak up so jay always has to do it for them both. jake picks up on the sliver of tension that is there between them.
fuck, fuck, fuck. think quick. say something!
“ah, uh.. next weekend!” jake knew his friends were onto him. what if they show up unannounced one day because they haven’t been over in so long? his flakey behavior is too frequent. (he can’t help it though, especially not after the time he left for too long and you tried to run off. although you did learn your lesson after that, so jake doubts you would try something like that again.) he had to do something different and panic was settling in more than he’d like to admit. he did feel bad about neglecting them; he missed hanging out with the guys. “you guys can come over next weekend! we can invite the other guys, cook, watch some football, and play games or whatever!” jake breathes out a heavy breath after his rush of words. he smiles a genuine soft smile to the two in front of him, “promise.” his voice ends timid.
with that, sunghoon said a quick, ‘i’ll hold you to it!.’ his face was brighter than jake had seen in a while, so it must’ve been enough. the boys said their ‘see you laters’ and went off on their separate ways.
despite sunghoon’s change of demeanor, he couldn’t lie to himself. yeah, he was happy that his friends could finally have plans together again. but sunghoon was attentive. he was quiet but always watching, picking up on the details that others might not pay attention to. he saw jake’s weary eyes. how they were unfocused. the way his smile didn’t spread across his face as if there were a deeper emotion he was feeling and it was eating away at him. the fact that he couldn’t sit or stand still, always so ready to run away. and the harsh indents in the palm of his hand from how hard he was clutching his keys; how did it not break the skin? all sunghoon could wonder is, what is jake going through to make him lose all sense of groundedness?
when the two boys make enough distance from jake, sunghoon leans over to jay to say quietly, “he’s always been a bad liar.” to which jay silently agrees.
jake notices them walking closer together, whispering something to one another, as they walk away. it made his skin crawl. he wants, no he needs, to deny the fact that they were suspicious of him. but how could he?
what should he do? leave? move you, him, and layla back to his home in australia? yeah, that doesn’t sound so bad. but what about his friends though? the job he studied so hard for? the promotion he worked tirelessly for that allowed him less hours in the office and more with you? how could he say goodbye to it all? it’s all going so well so why does he feel like he’s about to crack?
the whole car ride back home had jake’s hands trembling as he gripped his steering wheel. his mind is racing with too many possibilities of all the wrong outcomes. he couldn’t have a single mistake happen. there was too much to lose and the main thing being you. he knows he would go crazy if he had to lose you, the most precious thing in his whole world. his sweet, little angel. he worked so hard just to get you, too.
and after all he’s done, he wouldn’t dare take the chance of letting you go. just the thought alone of not having you makes jake feel like all hell would break loose.
the day he first saw you, he thought every prayer of his had been answered. he had truly been graced with a gift from the heavens that he would stop at nothing to hold all to himself. you consumed his every thought, permeated his brain. and inside him, something quickly began to seethe. something in nature to a feral animal, starved and desperate to claw to freedom. constantly licking the backs of his teeth, ready to sink into you.
what started as a crush quickly turned into obsession. he knew so when he found himself following you home, to work, or wherever karina and giselle were bringing you. you had no idea, on top of that. oh, his naive angel, glancing over your shoulders with hurried steps only to trip over your own feet. you were so endearing to watch. a lost little pup with no clue in the world to the watchful, hungry eyes that followed you.
he learned all he could about you before that fateful new years eve. albeit, from a distance. he knew when you went to work, when you went out for groceries, what foods you dislike and prefer. how you wear your favorite color on the days you’re feeling good. how you enjoyed naughty books and pretty covers. the way your face is always wearing exactly how you feel, or what you’re thinking.
he would go to the library, watch from afar. when you walked away, pick up the exact books you did and run his hands across the covers to feel what you felt. he did the same at stores, and bought what you bought. when you left restaurants he would go inside just to sit where you did. anything you touched and left behind quickly became his. it all brought a sense of closeness to him.
he learned your routine in no time. more often than not, he found himself telling the deep rooted feeling within him that he’s just making sure you’re safe. he’s merely keeping a watchful eye. and the festering ache of his visceral grew to the point where he began to think, ‘wouldn’t she just be safest with me?’. yeah, yeah you would be. he believed he could provide everything for you. anything you could ever need to be kept protected, kept satisfied. a delicate angel like yourself needed jake. he was sure of it.
he is still sure of it.
he exhales a deep sigh, his breath still shaky. his lungs not easing the way his mind tried to convince his body.
“it’ll all be okay…everything will go smoothly. my angel, she wouldn’t misbehave.” jake tells himself, “next weekend will be fine.” his eyes staring openly at the road. his bottom lip bit raw from all his nervous thoughts.
“my obedient pup is at home. she is waiting for me at home. she always is. i am almost home.” he speaks in a mantra until it’s convincing enough to calm his nerves. he thinks of how lonely your morning must’ve been without him. how you must be cold. how your ankle is chilled and bruised from the frigid metal cuff around it.
oh, yes, his favorite sight to see.
the thought of you, ankle chained to the attic room bed, patiently waiting for him makes his cock ache. the fact always does. he hates to leave you, yet loves coming home to you just as much. his girl, waiting in her room, bathed in the sunlight that glows from the window to cast a halo above your head. the softest picture he wished to have burned into his mind forever.
he groans softly with an unsteady right hand palming at his growing bulge. he sucked in a breath, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. his palm presses down on his cock that is desperate to escape his clad pants. he whimpers quietly. his foot presses the gas a little harder, speeding up a little faster knowing you wait for him in that perfect image, just as he imagines. “almost home,” he exhales a breath that holds more stability than the rest. his tongue follows to swipe over his lips. he can’t wait to taste you.
he’ll feel better once he has you. he always does.
just like the first day.
it was a cold friday evening and the fateful day of giselle’s new years party. jake had been anticipating this day the second he realized you became friends with giselle and karin. giselle had always thrown her annual new years eve parties, and of course you’d be invited. it was the perfect day for him to claim you, his angel.
he gave his plan much thought. approach you casually, kindly. talk to you for a while. let loose with some drinks. compliment, flirt, but don’t come on too strong. build a sense of respect and show you that he’s not just into you for a fling. he needed you to know he was serious about pursuing you, and in for the long haul. hold hand as the countdown into the new year in cheered amongst friends. share a new years kiss under the fireworks. make plans for a date to get to know each other more the following week.
ideally, that’s what he wanted, at least.
in his heart, he really did want something normal with you. a cliche romance where you meet unexpectedly, become friends, and slowly fall in love.
not everything goes according to plan though.
jake, showed up earlier than jay, sunghoon, and heeseung. the three of them apparently had too much to pre-game and had to wait for one of them to sober up more before driving over. they asked jake to come pick them up, but he lied, saying he had already had something to drink and couldn’t.
he sat in his car, outside of the large three story home. there were subtle decorations around the property. new years signs stuck into the ground, balloons tied to the mailbox and banisters of the wrap around porch. the christmas lights were still up and flashing colors of white, gold, and blue. he could hear the music blaring from inside. judging by the amount of cars outside, and the horrible parking situation, giselle really out did herself this year. it was packed.
as he was getting out of his car, he didn’t even realize his hands were shaking. he felt like he was struggling to breathe. his heart pounded in his chest, reverberating throughout his whole being. it raged through him so heavily he started to think his lungs had no room in his own body.
he failed to realize what he was doing when he made it up the front steps and into the house. he was swimming through the crowd of people inside who were dancing and singing, a red solo cup or shot glass in hand. almost as if his body knew where you were, he made his way to you. and there you were. the descry of you lifted all the weight he felt. sitting on the stairs, leaning against the wall, drink in hand, eyes half lidded as you hummed to whatever song playing loudly. your existence was so beautiful to jake.
jake smiled at you. his body on autopilot slowly approached, but came to a stop when a guy sat down next to you. his smile dropped. he had never seen him before, so he must not have been from around here.
it was when the stranger wrapped their arm around you and pulled you in that he snapped. that feeling that had been festering within jake was finally boiling over. a bubbling, fiery rage that scorched him down to the bone marrow. he hated the sight, the knowing that other people could touch you, see you, talk to you, make you laugh and smile. he was sober and yet his stomach threatened to spill. he pain he felt only left him with disgust. how could you let a stranger in so close? jake never once had the thought of hurting you. no, the idea of doing such kills him. so why did he want to?
luckily, if jake was good at anything, it was staying in control. despite all the ugly things he feels inside, he never lets it show. in public, that is.
“she’s really drunk,” jake reached out and pulled you up from the stranger, “i’ll help her form here.” you giggled quietly, leaning your weight onto jake, arms wrapped around his neck.
luckily, the guy didn’t seem to care and got up to leave and move onto another drunk girl in the sea of people. jake didn’t allow himself the thought of what might’ve happened if he didn’t intervene. it would make him ill with violence. he wasn’t a violent guy, though, at least he hasn’t been.
“jake.” you breathed his name, eyes closed as you hugged onto him. he bit down at the sound of your voice saying his name. he could feel his blood rush south, his body lighting on fire. “hm.. i’m really tired.” your mumbles were incoherent, but enough for him to pick up.
he didn’t even know what to do with himself. he opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. if you weren’t so gone you’d easily be able to feel his raging heart. his sweaty palms holding your back close to him. he just looked down at you in his embrace.
yeah, he thought, this is much better. where you belonged.
it took damn near everything in him to not bend you over and take you right there, but he knew his time window was short.
your friends were nowhere in sight nor his own.
“let’s get you home, angel.” he smiled. you smiled.
you don’t recall much from that night, honestly. at least not clearly. you remember decorating for the party and drinking with you friends. meeting new people. dancing, singing, drinking more. and jake. you spoke to jake for the first time. he was kind. at least you think so because he offered to take you home. then it all blurred.
and everything you don’t remember, jake does. jake would rather take that to the grave though.
you perk up as you see jake’s vehicle rush down the long driveway. his car flew over the gravel path, a divide between the towering and snow wearing trees. layla hears the sound of his vehicle and rushes out of the room through the cracked door that leads downstairs. you wish to do the same, eyeing the cold metal cuff that confines you to the room.
you watch him park then fumble out. he looks cute, tripping up and making a clumsy speed for the house. you can hear layla’s barks and the sound of jake’s many keys. there’s several locks on all the doors and windows. jake takes many precautions in his need to keep you safe.
overfamiliar with his routine, you wait as he takes care of layla’s needs before coming up to see you. he seems faster today than usual, because his quick footsteps can be heard sooner than you expect.
jake pushes open the door with a wide grin. his eyes sparkle as takes in the glow of your being. almost as if he was never wavering, he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way over to sit next to you on the bed.
he says your name quietly and you speak his, with arms wide open. you pull him into a warm embrace, wrapping your body around him in a koala-like hug. the metal of the chain rustles and clanks, dragging against the wooden floorboards and bed frame.
you stay like that for a full minute, basking in each other's clutch. he pulls away only ot take the key from his pants pocket to unlock the cuff.
“i missed you so much today, pup.” he’s honest. the open cuffed chain falls to the floor with a thud.
“i miss you every moment you cannot be with me,” you stare at his unreadable face. he’s peaceful, smiling back at you, but you know him well enough that there’s always more. something got to him today. he’s trying not to tremble and you know it.
he laughs, it's soft and melodic. “are you trying to one up me?” he grabs a hold of your waist and pushes you onto your back. his body now atop of yours, arms caging in your face. a hand brushes the stray strands of hair from your face as he leans in to press butterfly kisses over your face. a warm flush heats your cheeks. the fiery feeling takes over your body.
he kisses the top of your head, forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, nose, cheeks and lips. it elicits a giggle past your lips. eyes fluttering shut, you capture his lips in yours the second they touch. intimacy with jake is always when you feel the warmest, the fullest. you try not to accept that it's also when you feel the most alive.
the kiss starts off sweet. your lips molding into one with a smooth rhythm. jake’s lips were always plump and soft. you like to bite down on the bottom one. you know he likes it too because he whimpers into your kisses every time.
“ah, baby, just a moment.” he begins, but you keep chasing after his lips. as much as he loves the shared intimacy, in the back of his mind he knows what he needs to say. “next weekend, the guys are going to-”
you pull away from his face and relax against the bed, your hands holding his face as you look up at him. with red cheeks, swollen lips, and hair falling into his eyes, he’s so pretty. you don’t want to think about anything but being with him.
“jake, jakey, tell me later. please.” it’s a soft plea. you just want this moment. your hands slid down to his shoulders to wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you.
jake complies silently, his hands now roaming your body while his mouth latches to your neck. his hands squeeze your shoulders, down your arms, waist, and up to your breasts. you don’t realize what made him change, but his grip gets rougher and the kisses he leaves along your jaw and neck are nothing like the ones he was pressing on your face. the sopping, open mouthed kisses against your skin turn to deep sucking of flesh with bites intermixed. you moan quietly; the pace of your breath picking up with heaves.
the warm, wet, heat in between your legs starts to pulse with need. yet you ignore it and take a hand to tug at the waist of jake’s pants. you fumble with his belt but manage to free his leaking, heavy cock. if you were feeling aroused, jake felt it ten-fold.
you thumb over his tip, smearing his precum around in gentle circles. he whines into your neck, “shit, touch me more, baby, please.” his teeth trace a line over the skin from your jaw, neck to shoulder. he wants to sink his mark into you.
you wrap your hand around the base of his pulsating flesh, still stimulating his tip with teasing, small, gentle touches. he bucks his hips forward into your hand with another strained sound. before you really start to jerk him off, he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder.
“jake!”, you don’t know if it's a cry or a moan. it hurts so good and a single tear escapes your eye.
“i-i had to,” he lifts his head up to look at you quickly with a loss of words for his action. he looks like he’s beginning to tremble. your face pales seeing him with your blood on his mouth. how is he still so pretty? you kiss him again and he continues with shallow thrusts into your hand. you squeeze him and think to yourself, ‘i’ll keep him grounded; he can break later.’ he continues to kiss you with hunger.
all jake can think at the moment is how your blood on his tongue and teeth tastes like a cleanse, or like religion, or like the way you looked at him when you first woke up in this attic bedroom.
his hands find the bottom of your white, slip dress to pull it up over your head. he breaks the heated kiss to remove it only to toss it aside. he’s sitting up on his knees now. when he looks down at you half-lidded, panting with lips red from your own blood he doesn’t know if he should pray or devour you.
he reaches down to his cock, taking it from you to pump himself a few times. he licks over his lips, tasking your metallic ichor. he groans and rolls his head back slightly, “hng, i want to taste more of you. can i eat you, angel?” he bites his lip, staring at you as he lazily tugs on himself.
you nod slowly as your fingers wrap around the waist side of your panties before sliding them off. you glance away from jake as you open your legs to him. still as shy as ever despite being wolfed down by him many times before.
jake hums over the small moan he swallows down. you, his beautiful girl presented before him, he is eager to ravish.
he throws off his shirt then his boxers and pants follow suit. he situates himself between your legs, arms wrapped under your thighs. he starts by kissing up your thighs, biting, and littering them with marks of claim.
he says your name between two kisses, “angel, my forever angel, it disgusts me how much i desire you.” his mouth hovers over your core. his fingers trace over your folds, clit, and entrance. he smears your wetness over like he’s painting a flower in gloss.
“why?” you breath out. normally, your mind would race over the statement, but the overwhelming taunt of pleasure clouds your head.
his thumb circles your clit with the leaking want, “i don’t know what to do with it all.”
he’s vague, but you’ve been around him long enough to have an idea. jake is all consuming; a black hole, an endless void. you’re just spinning in it.
his tongue licks a thick strip up your pussy. he moans at the taste and you moan at the feeling. the warm, wet muscle dances over your soaked opening. he’s basking in the taste, for a moment at least. because when it comes to you, he’s always starving.
he goes at you like you’re his last supper. eagerly licking between open mouthed, sloppy kisses. face pressing further into you like he’s never close enough. his nose pressing against your clit, only teasing the nerves that begging for more and more stimulation. his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, nails sure to leave crescent moons as a remembrance.
you’re whining out his name along with drawn out moans. your hands found purchase in his thick, long locks of hair. you tug on it, back arching off the bed, with thighs desperate to close but jake holds them steady. his tongue prods the opening of your pussy, dipping in and out with cursory. your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation of his tongue fucking you open. it feels like heaven.
“ja..jake, gimme more. i need more.” your fingers scratch along his scalp as you adjust your grasp in his hair. you can feel his moan ripple throughout you.
he’s so lost in the taste of you. he wishes himself able to eat his way through you.
he withdraws his mouth only to replace his tongue with a finger. with his head leaning against your thigh, he smiles and watches you wither around in fits of moans. “my pup needs more? your hole is so hungry, huh? you’re sucking in my finger so well that i can feel how greedy you are for more.” you can only mewl in response, head far in the clouds and stars of sinful bliss.
he’s teasing you, a single digit fucking into you languidly. the tip of his finger dragging along your rippled, creamy walls. your hips wiggle down onto his finger, wishing for more, wishing for him to reach as far as he can inside of you to rip out all that’s buried.
watching your sweet desperation, he adds another finger. the pace of his fingers picks up and the unholy sounds your soaked heat makes urges him to dive back in. his mouth latches to your sensitive pearl, sucking heartily and licking like an animal. the sounds you both make are so obscene, so dirty.
“ah- jake, it’s so good, jake.” you thighs begin to quiver and the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach builds up quickly, “you’re doing so well for me, jakey. i’m so close,” you whine, watching him devour and scissor you open, “i’m gonna cum.”
your moans of encouragement only drive him to do more. he lives for your praise. it's like a match to flame. his hips push his cock further to the mattress. he makes needful humps like he’s a dog in heat as he eats away at you. he speaks into your pussy, it’s muffled, but along the lines of, ‘you taste so good, so sweet.’
his tongue never lets up and neither do his fingers, “come on, baby. give it to me. cum all over my tongue and fingers.” he voice almost anguished, wanting to whimper for more. “if you cum for me, i’ll feed you my cock. i’ll fuck you till you’re full of my cum, greedy angel.”
his words make your head spin and the heat from your stomach washes over you like a broken dam. with shaking legs you orgasm. your mouth falls open in a silent cry but he doesn’t let up. his fingers are rough and fast, making a dripping mess of your hole. his mouth, so thirsty for you, laps everything that spills. he groans at the warm release on his tongue.
your breaths are heavy, body still convulsing from the strong climax. “ah- i’m.. enough.” you make attempts to push his head away from your overly sensitive pussy, but jake is drunk off you. he pulls his fingers out of you only to put them into his mouth, sucking them clean.
you sit up slightly, propped up by your elbows. you wince at the pain near your shoulder, remembering jake’s deep bite. “what did you need to say earlier?” your voice soft, quiet, but breaths still labored.
jake finally pulls back and sits up, his face drops. his hair a wild mess from your hands and half his face glistening in wet release. he tilts his head slightly, “will you promise to behave?” his voice, too, soft and quiet. he looks apprehensive.
you nod, watching as he climbs back up your body with kisses. his hands gripping your hips, waist, and breasts. a thumb swipes over your nipple, you shiver. he pinches the other, you bite your lip. your eyes watching him with anticipation.
i can behave, you think. will i get to go out? can i see my friends? anything, anyone! your mind quick to daydream different possibilities.
“the boys are coming over this weekend. maybe friday.” he says it with disappointment, “i haven’t been hanging out as much and they’re onto- they miss me.” he corrects himself.
your heart pauses for a second before it falls. your hopes were so ready to rise but it’s all just silly ideas. of course it’s not a reward for you. when is it ever? people miss you too and where is your opportunity?
“can i—?” you try to speak. it’s a small, brave attempt.
“no!” he voice louder than he anticipated, “no… i- you’ll have to be quiet for me, please? they can’t know or else i could lose you.” he kisses along your collar bones, a handful of your breast in his palm receives a squeeze. “it’s only a couple hours.”
“but, but i’ll behave. i won’t do anything bad. and i’ll tell them i’m fine! i-i like being with you. i just want to talk to people, see friends…” you do your best to blink away the sting in your eyes as you plead.
jake can only sigh, his cock still angry from the lack of attention. he presses his tip against your core, sliding it around the wetness that was left undrank with a hiss. “you have me to talk to and see. isn’t that all you need?”
you’ve had this conversation many times before, so what did you expect?
you remain silent with that, eyes staring at the ceiling with tears threatening to cry.
jake kisses your cheek and impales himself into you without warning. your hands quickly wrap around his back and grip his shoulders while your body betrays you with a moan. the sudden intrusion makes you cry. your nails scratch his back.
“are you punishing me?” you can’t look at him, so you close your eyes. the tears fall regardless and your bottom lip quivers. the question is directed to god, if there really is one watching over you.
you open your eyes to blink away the salty pain.
jake, looking down at you with a sorrowful endearment, answers. “no, i am loving you.”
he grabs the backs of your thighs and presses them to your chest, your legs find place on his shoulders. he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. you return the gesture with broken sobs.
“you know i love you,” he stares at your face that’s wet with sadness, eyelashes and lips too.
“i know.” you try to smile but your lips are trying to shake, to show your inner turmoil, so you bite down until you’re tasting crimson metal.
he smiles but it’s one of dolor.
his hips pull back to snap back into you causing your body to jolt. he groans at the feeling of the warm tunnel wrapped around him. you squeeze him just right. he rolls his hips around, pushing his cock as far as he can into you. it feels like his tip is kissing your cervix. you whimper a moan, it’s a defeat by pleasurable pain.
“you’re so tight,” he whines, his thrusts pick up. loud smacks of skin and wet sex fill the room. “no matter how much i give it to you.”
you’re in a mating press, made so small beneath jake as he pounds him cock into you. your core still sensitive from his fingers and mouth makes you whine and claw at him. you make small gasps of his name through your pitiful noises.
jake stares down at your twisted face while his cock bullies into you with no abandon. your sobs and moans ring through his ears to throttle his brain. he never liked to make you cry. it makes all the ugly feelings he tries to keep buried resurface.
“angel,” he moves your legs from his shoulders and you instinctively wrap them around his waist, “tell me i did the right thing. tell me i’m good.” he pecks your lips, picking up the little blood from your bite to lick. you copy him, licking over your lips. wet eyes only blinking slowly up at him.
in your silence, he makes a particular rough movement, deeper than you’ve felt him reach. you make a high pitched moan, mouth falling open.
“please,” he begins to beg, his own eyes rimming with red as they gloss over, “i want to be good. tell me you think i’m good.” his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy over and over. his thrusts growing more erratic and desperate.
a flash of memories, like a film reel, plays in your mind. you think back to all you’ve gone through in the past year. the first realization of what happened, the shocking betrayal, the pain of loneliness in isolation, the suffering in silence. but you’re always quiet. always far away from reality. how is he supposed to know you’re suffering? do you even know you are? maybe you really are an angel. one of god’s many ghosts. intangible to all you ever knew, yet hiding in plain sight.
jake notices you in thought, elsewhere. his eyes are brimming with tears now as he continuously fucks you harder, deeper, faster. he takes a hand, adding more weight to the one that holds himself above you, and starts to play with your abused clit. your body shakes beneath him with the overstimulation. you only cry more, unsure of specifically what is breaking you.
“i’m sorry,” it’s a choked up cry, his voice so quiet you nearly didn’t catch it. “i-i know what i did isn’t right, but i love you that much.” you’ve never seen jake cry. and it breaks your heart. you didn’t think it still could.
your hands are shaky, cupping his face to look into his sad eyes. “it’s okay,” you lie.
jake exhales deeply, breath wavering. his fingers working circles over your wet beed. your hips jerk up, chasing his cock and fingers.
“you did good,” and your eyes begin to cry again, “you’re always good, jake. my best boy.” you press your lips to his again. and again. then again. you think you feel him smile against your mouth. yours and jakes mess of spit and tears mangle together.
the overstimulation catches up to you, a hellfire in your being wanting to burst. you lean back to the mattress, breathing heavily, “i’m gonna cum again. i can’t take much more.”
“no, no, you can take it a little more. please,” he speaks with broken groans and whimpers, “i’m so close. i’m gonna fill you to the brim with my cum, angel. i’m gonna fuck a baby into you.” you moan out, your hands in his hair once again and tugging. ‘yeah, please’, you think, ‘a baby can keep me company. i’ll have purpose; i won’t be lonely’.
“yes, you’re so good, jake. give it to me, give me a baby.” your words are mumbled, a string of obscenities. your core tightens around jake’s raging cock as the second orgasm washes over you. your body making subtle jerks in the aftershock.
“gonna make a pup out of you, we’re gonna be a family.” the thought alone makes jake’s entire body shudder. “oh shit,” he whines, his thrusts are sloppy, simply chasing the feeling of being in climax. “ah, fuck, baby.. i’m gonna--” he moans loudly, his body collapsing on top of yours. you feel the warm, sticky liquid fill you in the innermost parts. the fullness of it all makes you hum in sick satisfaction.
he gives himself a few more shallow shoves, pushing his seed further into you, not wishing for a drop to escape.
after a minute, he rolls off of you and pulls you into his embrace. his body curls up into yours. he doesn’t say anything and neither do you. both of your minds wishing to be empty but overwhelmed with more than you’d dare to share.
he watches your blank face from the side. his eyes follow your profile. damp from tears and spit covered kisses. your lips bitten and red. down to your neck that’s already blooming with red and purple deep bruises. and then to his already bruising bite. he broke the skin, teeth punctured further than he imagined. he smiles knowing it will leave a scar.
he leans up, beginning with a gentle peck over the pained surface. he follows with little licks, picking up the dried blood.
unnoticed by jake, even you smile a little.
in one of the stories you conjured up in your loneliness, jake was the wolf and you a lamb. he drags you deep into the woods with his mouth around your throat. you’re bleeding, and maybe you’re dying, but he licks it all clean with pure affection. with unconditional love.
[ five days later ]
you watch from the window as different cars park in the driveway. one looks familiar, either jay or heeseung’s. you can’t really remember. you haven’t met heeseung formally, but jake’s told you about him and you’ve heard his voice a couple times before when he had come over. you’re sat with your legs criss crossed, elbow to knee, and face leaning in your hand. you notice new faces you’ve never seen before. three new faces at least.
you sigh and wish you could greet them yourself. but jake, who was stressed all week and morning, made it clear how he wanted you to behave. live quietly, read a book, draw, listen to music or watch a downloaded movie on the ipad. it made you feel like a pathetic child but in the past year, if you’ve become anything, it’s obedient.
as you watch the group of six men funnel into the house, you think you catch one of them glance up to your window. you quickly shoot down to lay back on the bed, hands covering your mouth as if anything would leave it. your heart pounds erratically in your chest.
“did someone see me?” you whisper. it lights a spark within you to think that you weren’t invisible to the world. and that made you feel really good.
never in your life had you imagined so desperately wanting to be seen. you can’t help but grin to yourself as if that simple glimpse solidifies your existence outside of the one jake created.
meanwhile, downstairs jake is smiling widely and greeting his friends. they’re all happy to see jake and be at his house for the first time in what seems like forever. they all greet layla with pets and coos of affection too before kicking their shoes off and making themselves home.
“your place looks nicer than i expected. i thought you’d be messy as shit.” riki laughs, walking through the foyer. his eyes take in the open layout where the kitchen and living room are. he finds himself a spot on the corner of the couch. sunghoon does the same.
“yeah, you have a maid or something?” jay teases, making way to the kitchen with his grocery bags in hand. sunoo follows behind jay with a tray of brownies.
“I learned how to be tidy with age.” jake breaths a laugh, eyes glancing around like he didn’t already double check every corner of the house for a possible trace of you.
“where’s your bathroom? i gotta pee sooo bad, the ride was longer than i expected.” jungwon has a big grin on his face while he makes a childish pose like one who’s close to soiling their pants. jake laughs and points down the foyer hall, saying it's the first door to the left.
heeseung just seems to be standing there in the hall. his eyes looking all over jake’s home like he’s never been there before. he finds several things strange. he notices the amount of locks on the front door first. then his gaze stops at the staircase before he walks to the living room where the others are.
jake notices heeseung’s silent demeanor and analytical eyes. he doesn’t say anything though. instead jake stuffs his hands into his hoodie to scratch at his cuticles. his nails already bit raw from the days of anxiety leading up to today.
“dude, why don’t you have fucking wifi here?” riki sinks into the couch, trying to flip through the tv settings.
“i have to use my phone's hotspot data if i want to watch stuff.” jake bites at the skin peeling from his bottom lip as he leans back against the kitchen island counter. jay and sunoo prepping dinner for the evening behind him.
“that’s so lame.” sunghoon adds in and riki agrees with a nod of dramatics. “we can use mine though, riki, opening the wifi settings again and find my bluetooth.” the two manage to set that up and find the football match they’ve been anticipating.
“you said last time we were here you’d have it set up by now.” heeseung finally chimes in, his tone seems challenging. he sits on the other empty couch, his back to the tv so he can watch the room.
“yeah.. well.. i just didn’t have any problems doing what i usually do…” jake’s words fumble. jay, behind jake, shoots heeseung a shrug and look of ‘i don't know!’.
to break the scene, jungwon comes bouncing down the hallway, all smiles, and into the kitchen. “jay hyung! what are we making?” jay rolls his eyes playfully and tells jungwon to help sunoo cut vegetables.
time seems to flow smoothly after that. the three who were in the kitchen begin setting up the table for dinner. side dishes, main dishes, drinks, and so on.
the other four have gone through all sorts of emotions as they watch the intense match. cheers and yells of passionate, ‘lets go-es!’ and so on, or groans of annoyance when their favored team gets a yellow/red card or misses a goal. it was all jokes, laughs, and smiles between them all.
it’s such a good atmosphere that even jake, for some short moments, is able to forget being so anxious.
now they all sit around the table in the living room, some on the couch and some sitting on a cushion on the floor, eating happily at the hearty meal prepared. jay even brought some drinks, but only half of them indulged. jake eyed the beer, but didn’t want a possibility of mistake.
and then sunghoon, two beers in, says something that takes the air from jake’s lungs.
“hey, jake, remember that girl you were hard crushing on last year?” he takes a bite steak, not really focused on anything but his plate of food.
“uhm, yeah.” jake nearly chokes, coughing loudly into his elbow, “w-what about her?”
“isn’t it just weird how she up and disappeared at the new years eve party?” jay questions before gulping down his second beer, crushing the can in his hand once empty.
“you guys- we didn’t really know her, s-so like how are we to know?” the emphasis on his word adjustment is noticed by heeseung and riki. riki gives jake a weird look, his eyebrow raised.
riki opens his mouth to speak but a loud thud is heard from upstairs that stops him. the group of boys pause and look around at each other and then back to jake.
“what was that?” sunoo gasps, looking scared, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his body into riki’s side who sat next to him. “is this place haunted?”
“layla must be--!” jake frantically says while his body shoots up to stand, but layla trots in from the kitchen at the sound of her name. she tilts her head at jake who feels his heart drop to his stomach.
heeseung stands slowly and starts to walk down the foyer when the stairway begins. jake is right on his tail, rushing behind him. the other boys sit in silent confusion, looking amongst each other before whispering different theories.
jake grabs heeseung’s arm to spin him around. his grip is so tight that heeseung can feel jake’s racing pulse and trembling body through it. jake’s mouth falls open but no words come out. his eyes are telling enough. they’re crazed, wide and fearful.
“jake,” heeseung’s voice is quiet, “what’s upstairs? and don’t lie because i swear i saw someone.” his hands place to jake’s shoulders, trying to hold his shaking body still. he stares at jake and the pressure that jake feels makes him crumble. he knows he’s caught.
he looks down to his feet, his grip on heeseung’s arm bruisingly hard, “can you keep a secret?” is all he can whisper.
first writing for this account >.< it’s been a longgg time since i wrote ff and it’s my first time writing smut so im sorry if it’s lacking :’) feedback & reblogs are appreciated🪽!!
❪ synopsis ❫ after another dangerous mission, jay finds himself coming back to your apartment, injured and in need of help. you, pure at heart, can’t help but offer to treat his wounds despite the internal dilemma that consumes you – giving in to the black spiderman or reject him for the good of your family.
❪ warnings ❫ SMUT ! mdni. sexual tension. making out. grinding. mutual masturbation. slight fingering. handjob. slight dirty talk. jay & y/n almost getting caught ,, ANGST ! jay’s spiderman is not a typical superhero, so he’s a morally gray character. he’s not bad tho, promise 🤞🏻 injuries. mention of fights. y/n’s dad deserves his own warning, yikes… there’s probably gonna be a part 2 🤭
The city of New York sprawls beneath you, its skyline a jagged silhouette against the night sky. The streets are alive, buzzing with the faint hum of traffic and the occasional siren wailing in the distance.
But up here, in your small corner of the world, everything feels quieter – almost too quiet. The only sound in the room is the soft rustle of pages as you scribble down notes for the assignment that have been weighing on your mind all evening.
You sit at your desk, the faint light of your desk lamp casting long shadows across the scattered textbooks, but your gaze keeps drifting from the paper to the window. Through the half-drawn blinds, you can see the city below, its neon lights flickering like a heartbeat, a sign that the city you so love – and yet despise – never truly rests.
Your focus wavers, the words on the page blurring as your thoughts drift, always circling back to him – Park Jongseong.
Jay.
The boy who sat across from you in class, the incredible smart kid that always got paired up with you in science class.
The one who had kissed you at the top of your building after he confessed to you that he wasn’t like everybody else – that he was Spiderman.
The memory of that moment plays in your mind – how his lips had tasted, how the world seemed to vanish as you kissed him under the night sky. That kiss had left you breathless, confused, and yet it still lingered, a warmth you couldn’t shake, even now as you try to concentrate on your homework.
You’d told yourself it was a mistake, that it couldn’t happen again. He was dangerous. He was Black Spiderman, the very vigilante your father – the chief of the police – had been hunting for months.
The same boy who’d saved you from a near-attack once, and who you’d later discovered wore the same mask you saw in the headlines. But it didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to stay away.
Every single thing reminds you of him, as if a part of him is always with you and within you. Like the hoodie you find yourself wearing tonight, the one he usually wears at school – the one he kindly gifted you after saving you the very first time.
But then, as always, your thoughts wandered back to that kiss. You could still feel it, the heat of his lips against yours, the quiet intensity that said so much more than words ever could.
Your heart clenches. You like him. You really like him. Especially because you know – he knows – you can’t be with him. Not with the way your father is closing in on his trail.
And now here you are, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach as you stare at your homework, as if any of this actually matters when everything in your life feels so out of control. When your heart is tethered to someone who might be the very thing that could tear it apart.
The sudden knock at the window shatters your thoughts, making you jolt in your seat. You freeze, staring at the glass, your heartbeat quickening. It’s late.
Too late for anyone but him.
You slowly rise from your desk, your legs suddenly feeling heavy as you cross the room, each step seeming to echo in the quiet room. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, and you don’t need to look to know who’s on the other side.
Your fingers hover over the window latch, hesitation gripping you, but before you can talk yourself out of it, you unlock it and pull the window open.
He stands outside, cloaked in darkness, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. His usual confident stance is gone, replaced by something… weaker. His shoulders are hunched, one arm pressed against the wall for support as if he’s holding himself together just long enough to make it to you.
“Jay?” You whisper, your voice catching in your throat.
He looks up, his eyes meeting yours with a look that sends a jolt of panic through you. Blood stains his suit, dark and sticky, and there’s an unmistakable tension in the way he moves. He’s hurt, badly.
“I need help,” he says, voice strained and raw. His words are simple, but the desperation behind them hits you like a wave.
You blink, heart hammering in your chest, and for a moment, you just stand there, paralyzed by the sight and the twirling of emotions.
But then he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out, and you feel the weight of his gaze on you, pleading.
You step back instinctively, making space for him. He doesn’t hesitate, stepping through the window with a fluid motion, despite the evident pain in his movements. The moment he’s inside, the full extent of his injuries becomes clear – blood drips from his side, staining the edges of his torn suit, and his breathing is ragged.
You swallow hard, trying to push down the panic rising in your chest. This is wrong. This is so wrong.
But you can’t look away, not when he’s standing there in front of you, vulnerable and waiting for you to do something. “Where can I…?” His voice is barely above a whisper, soon interrupted by his panting.
“Sit,” you say, your tone sweet yet authoritative. You motion towards a small couch next to the window, where the soft light from your desk lamp casts a warm glow. His eyes flicker to it briefly, then back to you, and without a word, he moves to sit down, wincing as he does.
You take a steadying breath before going to your dresser, pulling out a first aid kit you’ve had for years, unused – until now.
As you walk back to him, your hands tremble, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders.
His gaze never leaves you as you sit next to him on the couch, failing to keep the distance. You can feel the heat of his presence, the tension between you thick and palpable.
He’s so close, too close.
Your heart hammers in your chest, your mind racing, but you force yourself to focus on treating his wound.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, though the words feel hollow, and you know they won’t stop what’s about to happen.
Jay doesn’t respond immediately. He just watches you with those intense, haunted eyes. “I had no choice,” he finally says, his voice strained. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Sunghoon?” you ask, your voice sharp with a mix of concern and confusion. You’ve seen him around, of course. Jay’s ridiculously rich friend – the one who was always lurking in the shadows, despite his social status. But you never thought much about him, not until now.
Jay flinches slightly at the mention of his name, his jaw tightening. He shifts on the couch, his hand instinctively going to the side where the blood flows, but he doesn’t seem to care much about the pain.
“He’s… busy,” Jay mutters, his tone dark, as if the words leave a bad taste in his mouth. “He’s got his own things to deal with.”
You raise an eyebrow, trying to read between the lines, but Jay doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he seems to close off, his gaze flickering to the window as if he’s listening for something. Or maybe he’s just lost in thought, trying to process everything that led him here.
To you.
The silence stretches out, thick and uncomfortable, but you force yourself to focus. You open the first aid kit, your fingers trembling just a bit as you pull out antiseptic and bandages.
You turn to him, staring the wet patch on his dark suit. The blood seems to flow out from the lower side of his chest, making you wonder how to treat the wound effectively.
“I need you to take your suit off,” you say quietly, but it’s not a suggestion. His injuries are too severe for you to treat them through the fabric, and you don’t want to make this more awkward than it already is, but the words feel like a dare.
He hesitates for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. His eyes flicker to yours, searching for something. A sign that you’re not uncomfortable.
Finally, with a slight groan of discomfort, he shifts, peeling off the outer layers of his suit. The movement causes him to wince, his face tightening in pain as his hand hovers over the cut on his side, clearly still fighting to stay composed. But you can see the blood seeping through the fabric, sticky and dark. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of it, the severity of the injury suddenly hitting you full force.
“Careful,” you murmur, reaching out to steady him, your fingers brushing against his chest as you help him with the last of his suit. It’s all you can do to keep your hands from shaking, but the feeling of his skin under your touch sends an unfamiliar warmth rushing to your face.
Jay doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he’s too caught up in his own pain to care. He leans back against the couch, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. You keep your focus on his wounds, but you can’t help but notice how his body moves, how close you are now, your hands hovering just inches from his skin.
You reach for the antiseptic and dab a cotton ball, pressing it gently to the cut on his side. He flinches, his breath hitching in his throat, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he stares at you, those dark eyes never leaving your face.
It’s almost as if he’s studying you, trying to gauge every reaction, every breath you take.
The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver up your spine, and for a moment, it’s hard to focus on anything other than him. His sharp features seem even more defined in the soft light of your room, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks – even in pain.
You keep your movements steady, trying to ignore the heat between you. As you press the cotton ball against the wound again, your fingers graze his skin. He tenses, just a little, and the air feels thicker as he unconsciously lets out a groan of pain.
“I don’t know why you keep coming back here,” you murmur, your voice betraying a trace of uncertainty. The words escape before you can stop them, and you immediately regret them. You know what you’re really asking – why me?
Jay’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s searching for the right words. He exhales slowly, as if the weight of your question settles on his chest.
Before he can respond though, you continue. “I told you not to come back,” you say, your sweet tone contrasting the harshness of your words.
They slip out before you can stop them, but you regret them the moment they’re spoken. You don’t want to hurt him, but the fear that comes with knowing your father is still hunting him is too much to ignore. You don’t want Jay getting caught in the crossfire, and you certainly don’t want to be the one who has to face the consequences.
He doesn’t flinch at your tone, though. He just watches you, his eyes dark and intense. For a moment, you wonder if he’s angry, if your words have stung. But instead, his face softens just a little, the weight of the moment settling between you.
“Y/N…” he calls your name, his voice low, almost soothing. One of his hands reaches up, gently cupping your cold cheek. The touch is so unexpected, so tender, that it makes your breath catch in your throat.
He guides your face toward his, making sure you hold his gaze, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate motions. It’s almost as if he’s trying to steady you, to ground you in this moment.
“I know you’re scared,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something raw, something you haven’t heard before. “I can see it in your eyes. But pushing me away won’t make it go away.”
The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You want to look away, to retreat into the safe distance you’ve tried to keep between you both, but something about the way he’s looking at you – vulnerable, yet unwavering – makes it impossible.
You swallow, trying to find your voice. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” you whisper, though the words feel weak even to your own ears. “I don’t want my father to–”
“I’m not scared of your father,” Jay cuts in, his tone harder now, like the weight of your concern for him is something he can’t accept. His thumb brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “I’m scared of losing you.”
The words hang in the air, sharp and unexpected. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it wasn’t that.
You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat, unable to make it past the rush of emotions crashing through you.
You try to shake it off, to remind yourself of all the reasons why you should keep your distance, but with him so close, with the heat of his hand on your cheek and the intensity in his eyes, it feels impossible to hold onto that resolve.
There’s a quiet moment where neither of you says anything, as if the world has paused and everything around you has faded into the background. His eyes, dark and intense, stay locked on yours.
You know what he’s waiting for, and the thought sends a nervous flutter through you.
You can feel the heat rising between you both, the tension building with every second. You want to look away, but you can’t. His gaze pulls you in, like a magnetic force you can’t escape.
He shifts slightly, wincing as pain shoots through his side, but he doesn’t pull back. If anything, it only brings him closer. His face is inches from yours now, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.
“I know I shouldn’t be here…” he says genuinely, as his eyes flicker to your lips and you see the desperation in them.
“But I can’t,” he continues, almost like a plea. His hand still rests on your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw in slow, deliberate strokes. “I can’t stay away from you.”
His voice breaks slightly on the last words, the vulnerability in his tone making your heart ache. You want to tell him to stop, to pull away before things go too far – but you can’t find the words.
You’re dangerously close now. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the ragged rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickens. The wound on his side doesn’t seem to matter anymore, not with how much he needs you in this moment. How much you need him.
His eyes flicker between yours, and the intensity in his gaze only makes it harder to breathe.
“Jay…” The word slips out of your mouth, but it’s soft, uncertain.
He doesn’t let you finish. His face leans in, and for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you – but then, he stops, just a breath away, as if waiting for permission.
You want him, you want him so much, but you don’t know if you can let go of everything else. You don’t know if you can give him the power to tear down all the walls you’ve built around your heart, especially when you know what’s at stake.
But as his hand slides from your cheek to your exposed neck, your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, it's as if nothing else matters but the heat of his touch.
Jay's face inches closer, his lips so near that you can feel the warmth of them without even touching. His eyes search yours, dark and full of something raw, something that makes your heart pound.
“I don't want to hurt you,” he says, the words soft but heavy, like a confession. It feels more vulnerable than anything he's said, as if he's revealing a part of himself he's never shown anyone before. “But I don't think I can stop myself anymore.”
You feel your pulse quicken, the tension between you almost unbearable now. The walls you've fought so hard to maintain begin to crumble, piece by pierce. And even though every rational part of you know this is dangerous, you find yourself leaning into him.
He knows this will hurt you.
He knows he will hurt himself too.
But he doesn’t care as he’s so close to what his heart desires.
The world outside your room feels so far away now, a distant memory as your senses sharpen to every little detail. The way his hand grips your neck just slightly, the heat of his body, the way his gaze never wavers from yours, hungry and desperate.
And then, finally, Jay closes the distance.
His lips meet yours in a kiss that's soft at first, tentative, like he's waiting for you to pull back.
But you don't.
Instead, you let yourself melt into it, the heat of his kiss flooding you with everything you've been holding back.
His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel the desperation in his movements, the way he can’t hold himself back.
He deepens the kiss, his lips urgent now, as if he can't get enough of you, as if he needs you more than anything. You let him, giving in to the feeling, giving in to the wild, intoxicating pull between you.
You're not sure how much time passes, how long the kiss lingers, but when you finally break away, your breath is ragged, your chest heaving. Jay rests his forehead against shoulder, panting heavily as you try to back away but his hand holds you by the neck gently.
“Don't make me leave,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his warmth breath hitting your neck. “Please.”
For a moment, you close your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions crashing through you. You know the dangers. You know this is reckless. But looking at him, feeling him so close, you know you're not ready to let him go, either.
You want to say something – tell him he can’t stay.
That this can't happen. But the words don't come. Instead, you close the space between you once more, your lips finding his again. It's not gentle this time; it's hungry, messy, as if both of you are trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments you've spent pushing each other away.
Jay's hands find your hair, tugging you even closer, as if he can't get enough of you. He tilts your head back slightly, deepening the kiss, and you melt into him, feeling the ache in your chest grow stronger the longer you stay like this. The feeling of his lips, his body, his presence – it's overwhelming, intoxicating.
You pull away for a brief moment, gasping for air, but Jay's forehead presses against your forehead this time. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, and he's breathing as heavily as you are, his chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale.
Without thinking, you shift, your hands pressing against his chest as you straddle him, feeling the heat of his body beneath you.
The action is bold, unexpected, but it feels like the only thing that makes sense right now. His breath hitches as you settle on top of him, his hands instinctively resting on your hips, pulling you closer, his fingers digging into the fabric of your hoodie as if he's trying to hold onto you, to keep you from slipping away.
His lips hover near yours, but he doesn't kiss you just yet. Instead, his gaze flickers from your lips to your eyes, his expression a mix of desire and restraint. He's holding himself back, just barely.
“I don't know how to stop,” he admits, his voice hoarse, vulnerable. His hands trace the sides of your waist, slowly, as if he's memorizing the shape of you, the feel of your skin. “Every time I try, you make it harder.”
You swallow, trying to steady your breath, your heart hammering in your chest. His touch is electric, sparking through every inch of your body, leaving trails of warmth in its wake.
You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “Then don't stop.”
His breath catches in his throat, and the tension between you both snaps. His hands tighten on your hips, and without another word, he pulls you closer, closing the small space between you, kissing you again – this time it's desperate, urgent, like he's been starved for it.
You respond in kind, your hands threading into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, feeling the weight of everything fall away. It's just the two of you now, tangled up in each other, lost in the heat of the moment. There's no thinking, no consequences, only the pressure building between you with every kiss, every touch.
Jay's hands move to the hem of your hoodie, his fingers brushing against your skin as he lifts it slightly, his touch light but eager.
Your body hums with anticipation as his calloused hands graze your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine. You arch into his touch, craving more. With deliberate slowness, you begin to grind your hips against his, the friction of his suit against your clothed cunt igniting a fire within you.
The fabric of his costume rubs tantalizingly against your core, each subtle movement heightening the pleasure. You bite back a moan, not wanting to break the heated kiss. Instead, you deepen it, playing with his tongue while your hips continue their sinuous movements.
“Fuck,” Jay groans against your lips, his voice strained with barely restrained desire. The sound sends a thrill through you, fueling your movements as you grind harder against him. His hands grip your waist tighter, guiding your motions, urging you on.
Your breaths mingle hot and heavy between kisses, the air thick with the scent of arousal. Jay's fingers trail higher up your back, slipping beneath the fabric of your hoodie to caress the sensitive skin there. Each brush of his fingertips against your flesh ignites new waves of pleasure, making you ache for more.
“God, you feel so good,” he pants, breaking the kiss momentarily to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His teeth graze your pulse point before he soothes the sting with his tongue, drawing a shudder from your lips. “I can't get enough of you.”
Despite the haze of lust clouding your senses, you can't help but remember the wound on Jay's chest. A pang of guilt pierces through the pleasure as you realize how reckless you're being.
“Jay…” you whisper against his lips, trying to pull away slightly. But he tightens his hold around you, keeping you close.
“Don't worry about me, baby,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jawline. His hands travel lower, sliding beneath your pyjamas shorts to cup your ass. He gives it a gentle squeeze, eliciting a whimper from you.
“But... your wound–” you start to argue, only for Jay to silence you with another searing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting every inch of its warmth before retreating just as abruptly. He breaks off the kiss only when he needs to catch his breath.
“You're driving me crazy,” he growls out, his voice hoarse with pent-up desire. His hand moves from your ass to the front of your shorts, tracing over the damp spot where your arousal has soaked through the fabric.
Despite your protests, you don't make any move to stop him. Instead, you arch into his touch, silently begging for more. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, echoing the rhythm of Jay's fingers against the fabric of your shorts.
“I'm fine,” he reassures you again, leaning in to capture your lips once again in a bruising kiss. As if to prove his point, he slides one finger underneath the elastic band of your shorts before hesitating briefly.
Feeling bold, you press your hips further onto his hand, encouraging him to go further. Your breath hitches in anticipation as his finger finally slips inside your shorts, grazing the edge of your panties.
“Mhmmm…” you moan softly into his ear, biting down lightly on his lobe. The sensation of his touch combined with the words he whispers in response send shivers down your spine.
As you press into his touch, Jay lets out a low chuckle, his free hand moving to the small of your back to steady you. His fingers trace circles on your skin, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body.
“I can feel how wet you are, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, a smirk tingeing his words. His finger dips lower, skimming across your clit before retreating. He does it again, this time lingering longer as he teases the swollen bud.
The heat between your thighs intensifies, making you squirm restlessly atop him. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you struggle to maintain control.
You whimper softly at the sensation of his finger circling your clit, your hips twitching involuntarily. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill from your lips.
With a husky chuckle, Jay guides your hand to the bulge straining against his suit. He grinds into your palm, a low groan rumbling deep in his chest.
“Do that to me,” he orders, his eyes dark with lust. “Touch me like I'm touching you.” His finger continues its tantalising movements on your clit, circling faster now at your responsive whimpers.
You let your hand wander lower, finding the hard length straining against the fabric of his suit. You give a tentative squeeze, testing the water before moving your hand up and down in slow strokes.
You blush at his hardness, almost in awe as you realise you made him that hard.
“Oh fuck yes,” Jay groans out, his head falling back as you work his length through the fabric of his suit. The friction of your hand against him sends jolts of pleasure straight to his already throbbing cock.
He matches your movements, grinding his finger against your clit in time with your strokes. “Just like that,” he encourages, his breathing ragged.
As your bodies move together in sync, a wave of pleasure washes over you. Your breaths come out in short gasps, and you can't help but let out a series of needy whimpers.
“J-Jay...” you stutter out, struggling to form coherent sentences. His touch is driving you wild, alongside the feeling of his hard erection on your hand.
At your stuttered plea, Jay smirks against your lips before pulling away slightly. His eyes are dark with desire as they roam over your flushed face.
“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he commands huskily, tracing idle patterns on your skin with his fingertip. “Say it, baby.”
The demand hangs heavily between you, the anticipation making your heart pound even harder in your chest.
You swallow, your breath shaky as you prepare to answer, to finally let go and admit what you've both been holding back for so long.
But just as you part your lips to speak, the unmistakable sound of footsteps reaches your ears – the heavy, familiar rhythm of your father's approach.
You freeze, your body tensing, the air between you and Jay instantly shifting. His eyes widen slightly, his smirk fading as the sound registers with him too.
“Shit, is that...” he whispers, the question hanging in the air as he pulls his hands away, already on high alert.
You nod, barely able to breathe. “He's home,” you murmur, panic creeping into your voice.
Jay doesn't waste a second. He's already moving, pulling himself up from the couch, every trace of desire replaced by urgency. He glances around, assessing his options, looking for a quick escape.
He puts his suit back into place with swift, practiced motions, the intensity in his gaze replaced with the careful composure of Spiderman. He stops, though, as he reaches for the window, turning back to look at you one last time, his eyes softening.
“I’ll be back,” he promises, his voice low and full of something unspoken. However, he can’t find himself from leaving you as you look at him with your kind, doe eyes, as if you’re silently telling him not to go.
He launches himself to you, not giving you time to process what’s going on as he gives you one last passionate kiss.
“Take care, my sweet Y/N.”
You give him an honest smile, bringing a hand to his cheek, your thumb tracing the scar carved from a previous battle.
“You too, Spiderman.”
Then, with one last lingering look, he slips out the window, disappearing into the night just as quickly as he came, leaving you alone with the echo of his presence and the pounding of your heart.
Just as you close the window and turn around, your father's voice calls out from down the hall.
"Y/N? You're still up?"
You take a steadying breath, hoping he won't notice the lingering flush on your cheeks or the slight tremor in your voice.
You quickly compose yourself, taking another deep breath before you answer. “Yeah, just finishing up some homework, Dad.” You force your voice to sound steady, casual, but your pulse still races from what just happened.
Your father’s footsteps come closer, and he enters the room, his tired eyes scanning you briefly before he sighs, rubbing his face with one hand. “You should get some rest. You’ve been up late every night this week.”
You nod, but your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer, as if you can sense that something is off.
“Long day for you too, Dad?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifting to the wall as he rubs his temples. You notice how tired he looks, the weariness settling deeper into his features than usual. For a moment, the weight of the world seems to hang on his shoulders.
Finally, he exhales and drops his hand.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
You pause, a small knot forming in your stomach. You know what’s been eating at him for months now, and despite everything you’ve tried to bury, the question slips out before you can stop it.
“Is it about Spiderman?” Your voice is low, tentative as your heart races as soon as the words leave your mouth.
He looks up at you sharply, the sudden tension in his body making you regret asking. But then his shoulders relax just slightly, and he lets out a heavy sigh, the frustration clear in his eyes.
“Yeah, Y/N. It’s about him,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting close, I can feel it. I just… I need one break, one damn mistake from him.”
You force yourself to meet your dad’s eyes, trying to push away the fear gnawing at you. “Do you really think he’ll slip up?”
Your dad’s eyes harden, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I have to believe it. He’s too careful, too smart, but everyone makes a mistake eventually.” He pauses, his expression softening just a little. “I just need to be there when it happens.”
Your stomach turns at the thought. You know your father won’t stop. He’s not going to give up until he’s found him.
“Dad, don’t you think… maybe you should just let it go?” The words feel strange on your tongue, but you push them out anyway. “You’re getting too close to the edge.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. This isn’t about being close, or right, or anything. This is about making sure he can’t hurt anyone else.” His jaw clenches, the lines around his face deepening. “This is about keeping you safe, Y/N.”
You nod, feeling the weight of his words, but the knot in your stomach tightens. You want to tell him the truth, to confess that the man he’s hunting is the same one who makes your heart race, the one who was about to claim you, the one who’s too close to your heart for comfort.
But you can’t. You can’t betray him. Not when you know the consequences.
“I know, Dad. I trust you.”
He seems to relax at your words, his shoulders loosening just slightly, but you can feel the underlying tension still hanging between you. You wonder if he can sense that something’s off, but he doesn’t press further.
“Get some rest, okay?” he says, his tone softer now. “I know you think he’s some kind of superhero. But superheroes don’t exist in our world so don’t worry your sweet little head about him, alright?” His gentle voice trails off, betraying the hatred he actually feels.
You watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and a deep breath escapes you as you sit back on the bed. Your hands tremble slightly, the weight of your promise to your father sinking in as you look out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Jay, but knowing he’s gone.
The city below is alive with its own noise, its own chaos, but all you can hear is the deafening silence of the truth that keeps pulling you in two different directions.
But a part of you knows.
That no matter how much you try to stay away, you’ll always be drawn back to him.
step brother!lee heeseung x reader [afab] x brother's best friend!yang jungwon
[ part 1 | stupid games duology ]
genre: smut
concept: after a whirlwind summer of lust, going back to university has you sure you have everything under control. that is until a little slip of your tongue lands you in a pool of hot water. the question is, how are you going to get out of it with both relationships intact?
w/c: 14k
warning: family conversations, uni au, fake (?) dating, partying, drinking, recreational drug mention, stepcest, surprise ending; sexually explicit content, big dick!heeseung & jungwon, multiple positons, multiple partners, double penetration, oral [m. & f. receiving], *road head, sexualization of familial titles [baby sister, oppa, big brother, etc.], bdsm dynamics, sexual punishment, spanking, pain kink, rough sex, degradation, **unprotected sex, creampie
“Hey.” You turn away from your girlfriends to see Heeseung at your back, his hand on the back of your chair. It takes everything in you not to lean up and kiss him in front of everyone. His earring keeps glinting under the fluorescent cafe lights as it sways and he’s staring down at you so intently. You swallow, tilting your head up at him. His eyes dart to your lips and you bite your lip, noticing while hoping no one else did. “Eomma just texted me that she and dad are going to be at work late tonight. Real late, like pouring themselves into bed around dawn late.” You roll your eyes and Heeseung smiles. “So, usual dinner?”
“Yeah, sure,” you reply and Heeseung tilts his head slightly, smile turning sharp around the edges.
Usual dinner. It’s just a code the three of you came up with about late nights where the house is all yours. Your parents are still working late nights, they haven’t changed even a little over the course of the summer, which means that you have full nights where it’s just the two of you. Well, just the three of you, really.
“Cool. See you tonight, baby sister.” You reach over, slapping him on the shoulder, making him laugh. He pushes off from your chair, walking away from the table. You watch him go, realizing that he’s far from alone. Jay, Sunghoon and Jungwon are with him and when they walk away Jay and Sunghoon both offer you a word. You wave while Jungwon rests a hand on your shoulder briefly. You watch him walk away, Jungwon glancing back at you before falling into step with Sunghoon as they all leave.
“Baby sister?” Kazuha says and you look over at your friends. She and Yunjin are looking at you in confusion. “You’re three years younger than him and he’s barely your brother. What’s that about?”
“Ah, it’s just a nickname,” you tell them, tucking your hair behind your ear, shaking your head to yourself. “I told him to knock it off but… I dunno, he just does it. He thinks it’s cute or whatever. I mean, I call him oppa,” you reason out and Yunjin shakes her head at you.
“Oppa is so different. I mean, girls call their boyfriends oppa.” You bite your tongue inside your mouth. “Anyway, the real question is, how the hell do you focus in your own fucking house?” Yunjin asks and you roll your eyes while she and Kazuha both look out the cafe windows. You hesitantly glance as well, seeing the group of guys outside the window. Jake and Sunoo have joined them now, making a loose circle with Heeseung and Jungwon standing together, Heeseung’s arm draped over Jungwon’s shoulders. “No offense, but it’s a tragedy that you’re Heeseung’s sister now. If I lived in the same house as him—” She cuts herself off, looking at you pointedly.
“Shut up,” you giggle.
“No, unnie’s right,” Kazuha insists. “It’s too bad. You know,” she leans forward onto the table, “now that I’m thinking about it, I totally understand why you wanted out of that house. I mean, Heeseung is a lot to look at but Jungwon was staying with you?” You nod, willing your expression to remain blank. “He’s cute too and you don’t have to feel bad about that kind of eye candy.”
“Zuha!” You say, reaching over to shove her shoulder.
“No, no, she’s right,” Yunjin tells you, resting a hand on your arm. “I mean, Heeseung’s totally off limits but Jungwon? Girl, you should’ve worked that angle. You should’ve walked around in a towel and no fucking panties when your ‘big brother’ wasn’t around,” she says, mocking the title of ‘big brother.’ If only they knew.
“You guys are being so inappropriate right now,” you say as if that isn’t half of what you were doing while your parents were on their honeymoon. “Jungwon’s one of his best friends.”
“So?” Kazuha points out. “Honestly, even if you weren’t Heeseung’s sister, he would be a better option anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Kazuha and Yunjin share a look. It sets you on edge that they seem to know something you don’t. It’s strange because everyone on campus seems to know everything there is to know about Heeseung, Jungwon and their friend group. They’re a popular group of guys, after all. Handsome, fit, smart, athletic, they have everything going for them, of course they have a following, girls and guys that act like groupies. Sometimes university isn’t that much more different than high school and there’s a certain weight given to social currency, of which you have little. Not that it matters much to you.
“Surely you know that Heeseung goes to parties,” Yunjin says and you nod. So many times when he first moved in Heeseung would sneak in and out of the house, the stairs creaking and his bedroom door opening and closing at the wee hours of the morning on the weekends. “Well, it’s been said that he has a habit of going out and hooking up with girls. You know, cheerleaders, dance team members and such.” She lifts a brow and looks at Kazuha. Kazuha glances and then does a double take, jerking back in surprise.
“Not me!” She says, putting a hand on her chest. “I’d never!” Kazuha insists, then looks at you. “But I can’t say… other girls on the team haven’t.” You lift a brow, expectant. “I don’t know!” She tells you, lifting her hands in surrender. “I don’t ask about the other girls’ sex lives.”
“Just saying,” Yunjin chirps. “He’s been known to, uh… get around, so to speak.”
“Okay, but how true is that?” You ask. “And even if it is, that was last year. It’s a new school year and I haven’t heard him sneaking in or out at all since the school year started.” Not that he has to, your brain supplies unhelpfully. If he is in the habit of sleeping around, with you right next door he doesn’t have to anymore. It makes your stomach turn, the idea of being ‘easy pickings’ for your new found step brother. Is that all you really are?
“I dunno,” Yunjin admits. “It’s just been said, that’s all.”
They don’t pick the topic of your step brother or his friends back up but it does sit around in your brain for the rest of the day. You have a hard time even focusing in your classes, tapping your pen against the pages of your notebook, zoning out and staring into space. Your mind trails back to the summer, hours spent fooling around with the two of them.
Your fingers are forced to grip the edge of the sink as Heeseung presses a hand down in the middle of your back, between your shoulders, bending you over the countertop. His other hand is gripping your hip, forcing your hips back against his as he thrusts his hips forward, burying himself inside of you. Your eyes are rolling back, your shorts around your knees while his sweats are pooled around his ankles.
“That’s it, baby. Take that fucking cock. Take it so well, don’t you?” He teases you, biting his lower lip as he pounds inside of you, your whole body shaking with the strength of his thrusts. The counter is the only thing keeping you upright against his brutal thrusts, the intensity with which he’s taking you.
“Such a good girl,” Jungwon mutters into the valley of your chest as you rock on his cock, your knees pressing into the couch cushions, your legs spread on his lap. His hands are digging into your thighs as he kisses your chest, your arms wrapped around his neck, cradling his head to your skin. His sweats are stretched around his thighs while your clothes have been discarded on the floor, leaving you naked while he’s still mostly dressed.
“C’mon, c’mon,” you whine, picking up the pace. His mouth drifts across your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple. “Jungwon!” You yelp when he bites down, tugging softly. When you look down he looks up at you, eyes dark. He leans forward again, sucking at your tit as his eyes close, his other hand coming up to play with your other nipple, twisting and pulling at it. “Oh, god,” you groan, tipping your head back as you start to bounce desperately on him.
Your arms are shaking, trying to keep yourself above Jungwon as he splits you open on his cock, sweat beading along your hairline, in the creases of your joints as Heeseung slowly starts to push into your ass. Your eyes roll back as Jungwon smirks up at you, legs parted around your hips while Heeseung braces himself with a hand on your shoulder, the other on your hip. You feel so full, both of them pushing so deep inside of you, the pressure too much on both sides of your walls. You’re practically trembling between them, trying to stave off the orgasm that’s building inside of you.
“Close,” you whimper out.
“Oh, baby, we just started,” Jungwon tells you, kissing your collarbone.
“It’s gonna be a long night for you if you’re gonna come for us already,” Heeseung warns you, pushing in to the hilt. You flinch, shaking through the pleasure pulsing through you. It’s all so much, the heat wrapping you as they both lean into your space, so close, so deep inside of you. Both of them experimentally thrust into you and you nearly collapse on top of Jungwon, Heeseung’s hands the only things keeping up hovering above him.
“Miss. Y/L/N,” your professor calls out and you blink out of your stupor, trying to swallow down the desire in your throat, ignoring the wetness dampening your panties. “No opinion?” Your professor asks.
“I’m sorry?” You reply.
“You usually have an opinion on this topic. Not today?” They ask and you shake your head.
“No, not today.”
You take the bus back to the house after your classes that evening and lean your head against the window. The bumping of the bus keeps you alert but still your brain drifts away from you. It seems to be constantly doing that lately. It’s like all you can think about lately is them.
“Don’t take your eyes off the road,” you warn Heeseung, unbuckling your seatbelt. Heeseung glances at you from the corner of his eye, driving down the highway towards Sokcho, towards the guest house. You, however, lean over the center console, hands creeping over his thighs.
“What’re you doing?” he asks, but doesn’t look away from the road. His fingers flex on the steering wheel as you palm his cock, leaning down over his lap. “Baby sis- oh!” His eyes widen, hips jumping in surprise as you pull open his shorts, pulling his cock out. “Oh my God, I’m driving,” he says, breath turning heavy as he white knuckles the steering wheel.
“Never heard of road head?” You comment. “Don’t crash,” you tease him and then wrap your lips around the tip. Heeseung bites back a groan, trying to keep his foot steady on the gas pedal as you slowly take more and more of him into your mouth. You swallow around him, hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you start to bob your head in the narrow space between his lap and the steering wheel. Heeseung takes a hand off the wheel to rest it on the back of your head, trying to force you further down. You gag but do as he directs, breathing through your nose to open up your throat, taking as much of him as you can.
“That’s it,” he groans, fingers fisting in your hair. “Take all that cock. So eager for my cock, you’ll suck my dick in the car. What a filthy fucking cockslut.” You moan and he shivers. “Ah, fuck,” Heeseung moans. Your fingers dig into his thighs, slurping wetly around his cock, the salty flavor of precum coating your tongue as he gets harder, swelling and pulsing against the roof of your mouth.
You don’t know how long you’ve been sucking him, for how long he’s been driving, when he curses and the car turns abruptly. You pull back, looking out the windshield to see him pull off on the shoulder. You smirk to yourself, leaning back to let Heeseung put the car in park. He turns to you then.
“Well,” he says. “Finish what you started,” he tells you, cock throbbing between his thighs under the steering wheel. You lean over the console and take him into your mouth again, this time Heeseung putting his hands on the back of your neck and your head, forcing you further down. You choke wetly before getting used to it and taking as much of him inside as you can, the head pressing insistently against the back of our throat. “Fuck yeah,” he groans, pushing his hips up into your mouth. You press your hands down on his thighs, digging your fingers in as you swallow around him, running your tongue up and down the shaft. When he lets up you pull back to suck on just the head, moaning as his cock leaks all over your tongue. You pull back and replace your mouth with your hand, leaning towards your step brother with a smirk. “Little sister’s such a desperate little whore, isn’t she?” He asks, cupping your cheek in hand. “Can’t go a day without my cock in one of your pretty little holes.”
“You just taste so good, oppa,” you tell him. Heeseung kisses you, hissing into your mouth when you squeeze on an upstroke, circling your thumb over the head. You fuck your tongue into his mouth, Heeseung opening his mouth further to let you as you stroke him fast and hard. He groans into your mouth, fucking his hips up into the tight circle of your fingers.
“Close,” Heeseung grunts into your lips and you part from his lips, leaning back down to take him in your mouth. He drops his hand to the back of your neck again, squeezing a little bit as you bring him to the edge. “Fuck. I’m gonna come. Swallow it, baby. Swallow me down.” You lower down even further, hollowing your cheeks to suck hard. “Oh, shit.” He throbs on your tongue, hips jerking as he comes. Warm spurts of cum fill your mouth, forcing you to pull back, swallowing around him. You stroke your hand over the rest of him, squeezing up the shaft to get every last drop out of him. When you pull back you look at him, sticking your tongue out.
Heeseung takes you by the chin, tipping your head to see. Not a drop of cum remains on your tongue. He leans forward, tongue meeting yours first. You giggle, beckoning his tongue into your mouth, kissing him wet and filthy. He unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes you back into your seat, leaning over the console. He backs you up against the door, hands dropping down to your wrap, the only covering on top of your bathing suit bottoms. He hastily unties it and pushes your legs apart, pulling the crotch of your bikini bottoms aside.
“Ruining your swimsuit already?” He teases into your mouth. “Naughty.” He gets down on his elbows on the seat, pressing one leg to your chest while the other hangs over the seat into the footwell to give him room. You tilt your hips up, holding your knee with one hand while the other lands in his hair. It knocks his sunglasses off of his head as he lowers down to your cunt. He looks up at you as he buries his face into your pussy, immediately licking and sucking at your cunt. Your head tips back against the window, the glass starting to fog. You hold his head against your cunt, his mouth making quick work of you.
One of his hands comes up, two fingers pushing inside of you. You moan, eyes closed as he starts to finger you, the sound of your wet cunt loud in the cabin of his car. Aptly, Chase Atlantic starts to pour from your playlist as he sucks at your clit, curling his fingers inside of you. Your panting and moans syncs up to the song as you writhe against his face, fingers tight in his hair, pulling softly. Heeseung groans into your cunt, scraping his teeth against your clit, sending fresh waves of pleasure-pain through you.
“Close,” you gasp out. “So fucking close.” Eagerly, he fucks his fingers harder into you, dripping spit over your clit messily from his tongue, only to suck at you wetly, making a complete mess. You can feel your slick and his spit dripping down your cunt towards your ass the longer it goes on. He shoves his fingers in as deep as he can, relentlessly pressing his fingertips into your g spot when he curls his fingers up, playing you like an instrument.
“Hee—” You cut yourself off with a gasp as you come. Heeseung fucks his fingers in and out of you, forcing more and more cum out of you, coating his digits in your milky release. He sucks at your cunt, lapping at you, drinking you down. When he pulls back you finally let go of your knee, fingers slipping from his hair. He brings the fingers just inside of you up to his mouth, sucking your release off of them.
“I taste good? No, baby,” Heeseung says, licking his fingers clean. “You taste good.”
You yelp as Jungwon lands another spanking on your ass. You’re bent over his knees, your bathing suit bottoms pulled to the side to reveal the entirety of your ass cheeks to him. Your ass stings, turning red underneath his palm. He slaps your other cheek, making you whine into the couch cushion, your swimsuit bottoms getting even wetter with every slap to your burning, bruised ass.
“Have you learned your lesson?” Jungwon asks and you nod against the couch cushions. “And what have you learned?”
“Not to be so greedy,” you say, lifting your head from the cushions. He spanks you again, making you whine. “That I was naughty.” Smack! “That only filthy sluts suck cock in the car.” Smack! “That I’m a filthy cockslut and I deserve this.”
“And how many was that?”
“Twenty,” you gasp out.
“That’s a good girl. See, you can be good. You just choose not to,” Jungwon tells you. “You choose to be a filthy slut who can’t control herself. A nasty little brat.” He fists your hair in a hand, pulling your head back, arching your back where you’re bent over his knee. “Now you’re going to make it up to me.”
“Yes, Wonnie,” you agree, breathless. He shoves you off his lap, onto the floor. The hardwood floor hurts your already bruised, stinging ass but you don’t dare get back up as Jungwon drops to his knees between your legs. The huge glass windows and glass doors of the guest house cause light to pour in, allowing anyone who might be passing by the ability to look in. Jungwon doesn’t care though as he opens the front of his shorts, shoving them down to reveal his cock, hard and ruddy red, aching between his thighs. He forces your legs open, spreading you open.
“You’re gonna be a good girl for me now,” he tells you, his hands trailing from your knees to your thighs, to your swimsuit bottoms. He pulls the crotch aside, letting him align himself to your slit. You watch with bated breath as he teases his tip against your entrance, bringing his hands up to your shoulders, pushing you down against the hardwood floor. “You’re gonna stay right here and let me use this pussy. Right where anyone could see me using you. Because that’s all sluts are good for, putting on a show.” You whimper, nodding up at him. “Good girl.” His cock presses into you and your eyes roll back.
He stretches you open on him, your back arching and forcing your shoulders down into the hardwood flooring. It hurts, especially as he holds you down, keeping you pinned down to the flooring. The shiny, lacquered flooring of the guest house aches against your bare shoulders and against your tailbone as Jungwon fucks you hard and fast. It’s obvious he doesn’t care about you, he doesn’t care either way if you come, this is all for him. This is your punishment.
Your nails dig into the seams of the hardwood floor, knowing you’re not allowed to grab at him, knowing it’s supposed to hurt. Jungwon leans over you, letting go of your shoulders just to grab you by the thighs, wrapping them around his waist. It forces your hips harder into the floor, your tailbone aches, and yet you can feel pleasure pooling inside of you. The spanking already has you on edge, your pussy making obscene squelching noises around his cock as he pounds into you. You look up at the ceiling, tip your head back to look out the windows, the sun pouring down over the two of you, the green tops of the trees swaying in the breeze. It all starts to blur in your vision as you inch closer and closer to your orgasm.
“You take direction so well,” Jungwon tells you, leaning down to kiss your neck. “At least you’re good at one thing.” You whimper, arching further into him. “C’mon, baby, clench that cunt around me. Make me come, and I’ll stop. You know how to make it stop hurting.” You don’t want it to stop hurting, the hard press of him inside of you, the ache in your hips and shoulders and ass, it feels so good. Still, your cunt spasms around him, a consequence of your impending orgasm. You gasp, feeling him force himself as deep as possible inside of you, fucking his hips down into your cunt.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, your orgasm crashing through you. Jungwon digs his fingers into your thighs, bullying his way inside of you despite the way your cunt tenses, so tight around him he can barely thrust into you anymore. It hurts, how hard the fucks you to get over the edge, but it’s a means to an end as he finally comes inside.
“Fuck,” he groans, cock throbbing inside of you. He spills inside of you, filling you with cum. Your body finally collapses in on itself, against the floor. He drops your legs against the floor and pulls out. Streaks of white decorate his cock, cum spilling out of you onto the floor. “Good thing the guest house has hardwood floors, huh?” He comments, watching as his own cum spills onto the floor of his parents’ guest house.
You blink back to the present as the automatic voice informs you they’re approaching your stop. You get off the bus once there and head home, letting yourself inside. The inside of the house is just the same as it is every day, but you can hear someone shuffling around the kitchen and the dining room. No doubt it’s Heeseung, he’s been getting home before you this semester since he took earlier classes. You walk into the dining room to see him setting out the dinner he must’ve picked up on his way home. You pause in the doorway of the foyer, looking over at him.
“Hey,” he says, clearly knowing you’re there. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” you reply, coming into the room. “Can I ask you something?” You ask, approaching him. Heeseung looks over at you, resting a hand on the back of a chair. “It’s sort of personal,” you admit, taking your school bag off and hanging it on the back of a different chair.
“Nothing too personal for my baby sister,” he comments and you roll your eyes at him. He smirks. “What do you want to know?”
“Are you sleeping with anyone else?” You ask. Heeseung pulls back a bit, clearly surprised by your question. He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head at you. “I only ask because… well, I don’t care if you’re sleeping with other girls but if that’s the case, maybe I should be making you wear a condom,” you suggest and Heeseung scoffs.
“Okay, first of all, I’m clean. I get tested at the campus clinic at least once a month so I’m not going to give you anything. And no way you’re gonna get me to wear a condom when I know you’re on fucking birth control. I look at that case on the bathroom counter every morning,” he points out. You shift slightly, embarrassed at being called out. “Secondly, where is this even coming from?” He asked, lifting a brow at you.
“I dunno, I just… I heard some stuff. Around campus.” Heeseung drops his arms and closes the gap between you two. “I don’t care—”
“It sounds like you care,” he says, resting a hand on your waist.
“I don’t care!” You insist, crossing your arms over your chest. Heeseung smiles at you, pulling you in by your waist. “You can sleep with whoever the fuck you want, I don’t give a shit. I mean, I slept with—” You cut yourself off when you see the look on his face, brows lowered and lips pursed. You smirk and he lifts a brow at you. “I slept with someone at the club, after all,” you add knowing how much he hates it. Heeseung digs his fingers into your waist, a silent warning. “You can sleep with whoever you want. Maybe I will too.”
“Don’t you dare,” Heeseung warns you, voice low. “You have—”
“Cock at home? You have pussy at home,” you remind him. “But who’s to say that it’s better than eating out?”
He kisses you, just a shade into painful. You smile into his lips, you love riling him up. His hands slide over your waist down to your hips, back to your ass. You lift your arms to rest on his shoulders while he digs his fingers into your ass, pulling you against him. You gasp into his mouth, letting him fuck his tongue into your mouth as he presses your hips against his. He’s already half hard, the shape of him pressing into your hip.
The sound of the door opening causes you to part from him, shoving him back. Jungwon would’ve called out but no one does, making you sure it’s one of your parents. Heeseung wipes at his mouth, adjusting himself in his jeans as he turns away from the foyer entrance. You look over just as your dad walks out into the great room, hastily toeing off his shoes.
“Hey, dad,” you greet him.
“Dad,” Heeseung greets him, shortly.
“I thought you were working late tonight,” you comment, running a hand through your hair.
“I am! Really, I am,” he says, already heading for the hallway. “Forgot some documents in my office. I’m not even here, according to the office, I’m not here!” He assures you, disappearing down the hall. You watch as he goes and once the door to his office is closed you turn to Heeseung, who looks back at you.
“I’m not sleeping with anyone,” he whispers vehemently and your eyes widen, glancing back to the hall. Heeseung takes your face in hand, turning you back to face him. “So don’t you dare try eating out on me. No one else is ever gonna taste as good as me anyway.”
“Hee—” He kisses you, making you shove him back. “Heeseung!” You scold him softly, Heeseung smirking at you. “He’s right—” He kisses you again, twice more, and then pulls back.
“I know.” You glare, turning back as the office door opens again. You turn to see your dad rushing back towards the door. “Leaving already?” Heeseung asks as though he wasn’t just kissing the man’s daughter, his step sister, less than a minute ago.
“Gotta get back to the office. You guys are good tonight?” He asks and you both nod in agreement. “Alright. Well, don’t wait up for me or your mother. Your mom has a midnight shift and I’m being bullied into going out with the guys after work.” You tilt your head at him, giving him a hard look. “I know, I know. I promise I won’t get too drunk. Home by 1, okay?”
“Okay,” you tell him. “Don’t let them bully you too hard.”
“I won’t. Bye, sweetie,” he tells you, heading out. The door closes and locks behind him. The both of you wait, listening for the tell tale sound of his car pulling away. Ten seconds later you both hear the crunch of the wheels on the driveway, the car engine getting distant. You turn back around, being greeted by Heeseung’s lips.
He grabs you by the waist, putting you on the table, standing between your legs. You wrap your arms around him as he crowds into your space, letting his mouth trail down your throat. You tip your head back, letting him kiss over your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin. Heeseung keeps going, hands going for the button of your jeans as he sucks at the base of your neck, working on a bruise that you’re sure you’re going to have to cover for the next three days.
“I have pussy at home, baby sister,” he tells you, unbuttoning your jeans and unzipping the fly. “Why would I go out for something when I already have one that tastes so fucking good.” He slides a hand into your panties, fingertips finding your clit. You moan, tipping your head further back. “Mm, maybe I’ll have dessert first tonight.”
Mornings might be the only time all of you are in the house, you and Heeseung getting ready for your classes at university while your dad drinks a pot of coffee before work and your step mother gets changed to take on another shift at the hospital. The four of you have mostly gotten used to moving around one another, you coming down from your morning shower while Heeseung is already eating breakfast, doing some last minute studying at the table. Your step mother rushes past you to prepare a thermos for her morning while your dad leans casually against the counter, checking his emails while sipping from his mug.
You go over to the table, setting your bag down on top of the table to make sure you have everything with you, your laptop and textbooks and notebooks all stacked on top of one another. You chew on your piece of toast, your fingers faltering briefly on your pencil case when you feel Heeseung’s hand on your thigh under the table.
You’re both on the other side of the table from the kitchen, hiding your legs and his hand from your parents view. You rip off a bite of toast, tossing the rest of the slice onto your plate as Heeseung strokes the backs of his fingers up and down your thigh, your shorts clearly too short. You pull your pencil case out of your bag, unzipping it to check inside. You drop it, writing utensils skittering across the floor. Everyone looks at you and Heeseung drops his hand.
“Just my pencil case, sorry,” you tell your parents, who go back to what they were doing. You drop down to your hands and knees though, halfway under the table. You collect your pencils, pens and highlighters, hastily shoving them into your pencil case. While under the table though you set your pencil case aside and run your hands up Heeseung’s thighs. Heeseung clears his throat above you but doesn’t push you away, letting you cup his clothed cock in hand, squeezing softly.
“Y/N,” your step mother calls out and you drop back to your hands and knees, popping up above the edge of the table with your pencil case in hand. “Sweetie, do you have a pair of earrings I can borrow?” She asks, touching her ear. “I couldn’t find my gold studs this morning.”
“Oh, sure,” you agree, pushing your pencil case into your school bag. “I should have a pair you can borrow.” You step around Heeseung, meeting your step mom on the other side of the kitchen island. The both of you head up the stairs together, to your room.
You give your step mom a pair of earrings of yours, simple golden studs that match the necklace she’s wearing. She sits down at your vanity to put them in and you hover nearby, waiting to see if she likes them.
“You know, Y/N,” she says and you hum, “I’m so glad that you and my son are so close.” You try not to panic, nodding in agreement. “Heeseungie’s a great kid and I was so worried when I started seeing your dad that you two wouldn’t get along. Your dad mentioned he had a daughter and we… well, we put off telling the two of you about our relationship because we were so worried you wouldn’t get along. He’s a bit older than you and you’re both in university, we worried that you wouldn’t have anything in common.” She moves to the other earring. “I’m really glad that we were worried over nothing. You and Heeseung seem like you’ve gotten really close really quickly. I mean, even his friends like you. You’re close with Jungwon too, right?”
“Yeah,” you agree.
“Anyway, I say this because,” she pauses, turning to you, “I want us to be close too. I mean, I’m glad you and Heeseung managed to build a close sibling relationship and I’m so glad you wanted to call me eomma.” You nod in agreement, smiling at her, while some semblance of guilt gnaws at your stomach lining. “But I want you to know you can tell me things. Anything, really.”
“I know I can,” you agree.
“You do?” She asks and you nod. “Okay. Even if it’s… about boys?” She asks and you swallow. “Because you know…” she taps the side of her neck and you gasp, covering the side of your neck. You thought you covered it enough, that no one would notice, but clearly not well enough. “Your dad wouldn’t have noticed but, y’know, a girl knows.”
“Right,” you mutter. “I’m so sorry. I mean— It’s not that I don’t trust you—”
“No, I know,” she says. “I get it. I mean, your dad and I just got married. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me about it. But if you do, I’m a good listener. And I promise I won’t judge or anything. I just noticed and… you never said anything about having a boyfriend.”
“No, I didn’t,” you admit, rubbing your fingers over the marks on your throat. You can’t tell her who gave them to you, but you don’t want to lie to her. Neither of the guys who are giving you hickeys are your boyfriend. At least, they’ve never said so. “Uhm… it’s complicated.”
“Complicated,” she sighs and then laughs softly. “College boys are so complicated,” she agrees, getting to her feet. “I know how it is. But you’d tell me if it was… someone close to you?” She wheedles and you glance away. “No. Okay. I get it,” she brushes off but you can tell from that tone that your avoidance hurts her. It’s the last thing you want to do, especially given everything you’re already lying to her about.
“No!” you burst. Admittedly, lying to everyone is sort of wearing you down. It does suck that you can’t talk to anyone about the boys you’re with because no one would understand. You can’t tell people you’re sleeping with your step brother and some people would even side eye you for seeing your step brother’s best friend. It’s complicated and difficult and frustrating where you’re at and telling anyone would be nice. Even if it’s just a part of the truth. “I just— uhm…” you swallow and she looks at you patiently. “Don’t… don’t tell my dad,” you say and she mimes zipping her lips.
“I’m a safe,” she assures you, making a gesture like throwing away the key. “You can trust me.”
“It’s, uh… it’s Jungwon,” you say and her eyes widen. “We’re not… I mean, it’s recent. Like, once school started.” The lie just spills out of you and it’s like you can’t stop it. “We’re not together, we haven’t even told anyone else, we’re just… like I said, it’s complicated. My friends don’t even know and Heeseung—” You clam up.
“Does he know? That you’re seeing his friend?” She asks gently, resting a hand on your wrist.
“Yeah…” you murmur. “He’s… the only one who knows.” It’s not a lie, technically.
“I see,” she says. “Well, you know, Jungwon’s a good kid,” she says and you nod. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders, he’s very smart and respectful and from a good family.” You sigh heavily, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. She’s just being nice, trying to be supportive, but all these attributes have nothing to do with why you are seeing Jungwon. “I don’t think it would be such a bad idea if you started seeing him. What does Heeseungie think?”
“He just knows. He doesn’t…” You shake your head. “I don’t think he has an opinion.”
“He does, he just doesn’t want to give it. Typical boy,” she says, shaking her head. “Well, I will not tell your father. He doesn’t need to stick his nose on his daughter’s personal business, especially if you’re not dating him.” You smile shyly at her. “But if you ask me, I think Jungwon would make a lovely boyfriend. I think he would treat you well.”
Images of sitting on his cock, his cock shoved down your throat, being bent over his knee as he spanks you red and aching flit through your mind.
“Yeah,” you struggle out. “Maybe he would.”
You find Jungwon in one of the courtyards, sitting with a few of his friends. You don’t know any of them except for the guys that are also part of Heeseung’s friend circle, Sunoo and Sunghoon. You walk right up to them, unconcerned with the eyes on you as you approach Jungwon. Jungwon turns to you though as you come up to him, Sunoo having tapped his leg and motioned to you as you approached. He looks at you expectantly, curious as to why you’re coming up to him on campus, your trysts being confined to your house or the guest house this past summer.
“Hey,” he greets you. “Heeseung’s not here,” he informs you and you nod.
“I know. I came to talk to you.” His eyes widen slightly. “We need to talk.”
“Right now?”
“Right now,” you agree and Jungwon hops off the picnic table, picking up his bag. He tells the others that he’s leaving and Sunghoon’s eyes dart between the two of you while Wonyoung and Yujin wave him off. Jungwon joins you and the two of you leave the courtyard together. You’re unaware of the eyes following you or the murmur that follows the two of you. Jungwon, however, is well aware that your appearance is strange and is going to start rumors across campus but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to hear what people are going to think.
You lead him towards the cafe, intending to talk to him where other people will see you, in a way that doesn’t seem suspicious. You can tell people you’re working on a class project or studying the same subject right now or something, something innocent if other people can see you. Jungwon, however, isn’t as willing to go along with it as he suddenly grabs you by the elbow and pulls you back, away from the sidewalk. You stumble over your feet, gasping as you’re suddenly yanked backwards, off the beaten path.
You’re startled to find yourself backed up against one of the school buildings, Jungwon leaning into your space. He smirks at you, caging you back against it with his body. He’s taller and broader than you, he blocks you in easily. You go to step around you but he rests a hand on your stomach, pinning you back with his fingertips pressing into your stomach.
“Jungwon—”
“Must be pretty important,” he comments and you huff at him, leaning back against the white brick of the building. “What’s so important you had to talk to me right now?”
“I…” you sigh. “Heeseung’s mom cornered me this morning.” He leans back, letting his hand drop from your stomach. “She started saying all this stuff about being close with me and- and wanting to make sure I could trust her. She noticed…” you point to your neck, the concealer heavier than normal as you reapplied once she noticed, trying to make sure no one else would. His eyes dart down to your throat and then back to your face. “She started asking all these questions and I just… I cracked under the pressure. I- I-”
“You told her I gave them to you,” he says, his lips tilting up into a smile at the corners. “You told her I was the guy. So she wouldn’t think it was Heeseung.”
“I’m sorry,” you say with a sigh. “She promised not to tell my dad and I told her only Heeseung knows so… I mean, she probably won’t say anything to you. I told her it was complicated.”
“Complicated,” Jungwon breathes with a laugh. “Putting it lightly.”
“Look, I told her we’re not dating,” you insist. “So don’t worry about it. I just wanted you to know, in case you’re over and she… says something or implies something or… whatever.”
“You know you can’t hide it forever,” he informs you and your eyes widen in surprise. “Someone’s gonna figure it out. Maybe not about you and Heeseung but someone’s gonna know you’re seeing someone.” He flicks your hair back away from your neck, brushing his fingers against your throat. “You’re just making things worse for yourself by trying to hide it. People are going to find out you’re lying, and imagine how that’s gonna go.”
“What’re you trying to say?” You ask.
Jungwon leans forward and kisses you. You gasp, grabbing his shoulders to push him off but Jungwon just pushes you back against the wall, a hand on your waist, his other hand resting on the wall beside your head. He kisses you aggressively, lips and teeth and tongue, forcing his way into your mouth. You’re not even that far out of the way, just slightly off the beaten path, anyone could see you but Jungwon doesn’t stop. He keeps kissing you, moving the hand from the wall to cradling the side of your neck. You stop trying to fight him off, meeting him every stroke for eager stroke, his tongue in your mouth, a soft moan leaving your lips. Jungwon drifts from your mouth, spit slick and swollen from his lips, to your cheek, making his way down your jaw and neck. You protest when he bites, sucking at the skin just underneath your jaw.
“Won—”
“At school, you’re my girl,” he tells you and you swallow. “Hm? According to everyone else, you’re my girl.” He pulls back, brushing your hair from your face. “You know what they say. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. As long as you’re sleeping with him, no one can ever know, but you’re gonna need a cover story if he keeps leaving those bruises all over you.” He presses his thumb into the side of your neck, making it ache. “So, here’s your options. Keep acting like nothing’s going on and someone is going to call you out on your bullshit. Or, be my girl.” You sigh to yourself. “No one’s gonna ask any questions if they think I’m the one who’s putting those bruises all over you.”
“You are,” you point out.
“Okay then,” Jungwon tells you, smirking. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
You idiots decide to make a competition out of it, you think to yourself. But you bite your tongue because that’s only gonna get you in trouble. You really don’t know how far Jungwon is willing to take this game and you’d prefer to not be sexually punished on school grounds.
“Okay,” you relent. “You want to be my boyfriend, Yang?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” You can’t tell how genuine he’s being.
“Sunghoon told me the most interesting thing today,” Heeseung says, letting himself into your room. He closes the door behind himself, locking it. You sigh to yourself, turning in your chair to look at him. “He said you grabbed Jungwon while you were on campus today,” he says, sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on his hands. You lift a brow at him. “And then someone saw the two of you sucking face by the Sciences hall a little bit later.” You roll your eyes while he lifts a brow at you. “I didn’t think you were into exhibitionism.”
“You’re saying that to me?” You retort and Heeseung clicks his tongue. “It was Jungwon’s idea.”
“I don’t believe you,” he laughs.
“It was!” You insist. “As if you’re not two of the most depraved motherfuckers I know,” you say. Heeseung leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Eomma cornered me this morning, asking me about the hickeys you two keep leaving all over my neck.”
“And you said?”
“I said it was Jungwon,” you admit and Heeseung nods. “Look, it’s a safe choice. If I tell everyone Jungwon is the one who’s putting bruises on me no one is going to think twice. I can’t tell anyone the truth so, according to everyone else, Jungwon is the one I’m seeing.” Heeseung purses his lips, glancing over at you. “You know I’m right.”
“I know,” he says, getting up. “Look, I have no issues with sharing you with Jungwon. You’re the desperate slut who wants two guys.” He comments, walking up to you. You open your mouth to retort but he wraps his fingers around your throat, shutting you up. You press your lips together as he squeezes gently around your neck. “What? No retort? You are learning,” he teases you and you glare up at him. “I guess brats can learn new tricks.” He pats your cheek condescendingly and you resist the urge to press your thighs together. You never thought being degraded would turn you on so much. “I don’t mind that Jungwon wants you in public, that doesn’t matter to me. Just so long as you don’t forget about the cock that’s waiting for you at home.”
“Yes, oppa,” you tell him, glaring up at him.
“That’s my baby sister,” he coos. He kisses your lips, biting at your lower lip until it stings.
Word gets around the campus far faster than you would like it to, in fact by the next day everyone is talking about you and Jungwon. You’re generally a well kept person, you don’t talk to a lot of people, you have a small circle of friends, so your name suddenly being in everyone’s mouth is less than preferred. The murmurs after Heeseung moved in with you were more than enough, being Jungwon’s ‘girl’ is a bit more than you really want to deal with.
“Don’t take it so personally,” Jungwon tells you, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. It’s strange and foreign, the way that Jungwon has started to treat you. It was fine when it was just sex, when it was obvious you were both carnally attracted to each other, but suddenly he’s become… tender. “You know how people can be, talking about stuff without knowing anything at all. You’re just the latest topic of conversation, things will die down and people will move on.”
“Yeah, when?” You ask, turning to him. Jungwon shrugs, bringing his hand down to rest it on your thigh. Normally he would be trying to push it between your legs but his fingers are curled innocently halfway down your thigh, his index finger swirling circles into the inside of your leg next to your inseam. It stirs something in you but it’s less raging tidal waves and more lapping at the shoreline.
“Eventually,” he tells you. “You’re upset,” he concludes.
“Shocking,” you comment, your brusque nature coming out without meaning to. Jungwon removes his hand from your thigh to instead take your hand in his, pulling you up from the bench. You stumble to your feet and he drags you down the hall, away from the lecture halls.
You didn’t mean to end up loitering outside of Jungwon’s lecture hall but he could read you right off, which was sort of frustrating to deal with. Somewhere along the way, he and Heeseung had started to read you much, much easier than you could read them. You wonder if it’s because they’re boys or because their behavior is erratic but in the end, it doesn’t matter. Trying to understand the two of them is like trying to find your way through a labyrinth, every time you think you’re onto something, there’s a new wall keeping you out.
He pulls you down the hall and, after taking a cursory glance around, pulls you inside a nearby, unlocked closet. You’re not even surprised anymore, you stumble into the dark room and let your messenger bag drop off your shoulder. Jungwon pushes you back against the door, pinning you to the hardwood.
“Are you mad at me?” He asks and your brow furrows. Of all the questions, this isn’t what you were expecting.
“Why do you think that?” You ask, shifting awkwardly against the door.
“Because it was my idea,” he tells you simply. “If you’re mad at me just say it.”
“I’m not,” you reply. “Why, do you have a guilty conscience?” You ask him, crossing your arms over your chest in the narrow space between your bodies. Jungwon smirks at you. “If I said yes, what would you do? Would you apologize?”
“I’d make it up to you,” he says instead, and then his hands fall away. “I wouldn’t need to apologize because I’d make everything better.” Jungwon bites his lip and drops to his knees in front of you, making your breath catch. He pushes the hem of your shirt up, fingers tucking into the waistband of your jeans. “Do you want me to make it up to you?” he asks, pressing a kiss just beneath your navel.
“Yeah,” you agree, breathless. “Make it up to me.” Jungwon unbuttons your jeans, unzipping the fly and then pulls them down your hips. He leaves your underwear on, your usual thong wrapped around your hips. He kisses his way down your legs, pausing to kiss the inside of your thighs as he peels your jeans down to pool around your ankles. He pulls one of your feet out of your jeans, kissing the inside of your knee and then hooks it over his shoulder.
He kisses up the inside of your leg again and you drop your arms, instead running your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. In the dark of the closet his eyes still glint up at you, sucking kisses up the soft inside of your thigh. He leaves little aching bruises on his way up, pushing your hips against the door to hold you down. You wait quietly, watching as he makes his way to the apex of your thighs, taking a hand from your hip to hook a finger in your underwear, pulling it aside.
“Already wet for me?” He asks, running his thumb up and down your rapidly wetting slit. You hum softly, nodding your head as he spreads you open. “Gonna make you feel so good.” Jungwon presses a kiss to your clit, sending a shiver through you and then lays the flat of his tongue over it, laving over the bundle of nerves languidly. You tighten your fingers in his hair, trying to urge him closer.
While he would normally tease you, he moves in closer like you’re telling him to, running his tongue all down your slit, tasting you. You moan above him, biting your lip hard to try and muffle it. You have no idea who might be walking by, the last thing you need is someone to know someone is fooling around in a fucking janitor’s closet. Still, you begin to rock your hips against his face, Jungwon sticking his tongue out to let you rut your hips against his face, smearing slick and spit all across his face as you do so. He moans into your cunt, eyes fluttering shut as you use his mouth to get yourself off.
“You always talk so much,” you sigh, tilting your hips further. Jungwon moves his hand from your hip to your ass, holding you against his face. His other hand keeps a tight grip on your thong, out of the way so you can have full access to his mouth. “Turns out the best way to keep you quiet is to ride your face.” Jungwon moans into your pussy, sucking and licking at your clit, your labia, sticking his tongue up inside of you. “Ooh, fuck. That’s it. Use your tongue to fuck me. Make me come on your face.”
He guides you hump his face faster, pressing you harder against his mouth. You can feel your clit throbbing, the hot press of his tongue inside of you pushing you closer and closer to the edge, an ache building inside of you. He presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive nerves, making you shake. Your breath comes out in heavy pants as you rock your hips frantically, trying to get yourself over the edge. Your slick is practically dripping down his face, running down his chin as he eats you out, slurping wetly at your cunt.
“Fuck,” you gasp out, cradling his face against your cunt. Jungwon’s tongue curls inside of you, your rocking rubbing him right up against your walls, making you shiver. You’re chasing it, the heat building inside of you until it shakes through you, Jungwon’s thumb pressing hard against your clit, your cunt spasming around his tongue. You can faintly hear Jungwon licking at you, swallowing you down through the roaring of your blood in your ears as you come all over his face. You have to lean back against the door, trying to catch your breath as your orgasm continues to roll through you.
He brings your leg down to the floor and you look down to see him wiping at his mouth and chin, trails of slick and spit running down his jaw. You lift a hand, pulling the sleeve of your sweater over your hand to help him out, running the cuff over his cheek and jaw.
“Gonna get cum on your sweater,” Jungwon points out to you with a breathless laugh.
“It’s my cum,” you retort and he grins. “What’re you gonna do about that?” You ask, glancing down meaningfully at his crotch. Even with his jeans on there’s a prominent bulge in the front of them, his cock clearly hard and straining against the zipper.
“I’ll handle it,” he tells you.
“Why would you handle it when my pussy’s right here,” you point out and he smirks at you. “Get your dick out. I think this door will hold.”
You start to get used to spending time with Jungwon, before and after your classes, studying together, and getting lunch. It becomes part of your routine, which you don’t mind at all. Jungwon seems to be softening the more time you spend together. Not when you fuck, which doesn’t seem to be slowing down but is actually happened at a higher frequency because he’s finding more innovative ways to try and take you while you’re on campus. You’ve been fucked in bathrooms, closets, library study rooms, he’s getting creative. You don’t mind it, being the center of Jungwon’s attention is kind of special.
Sometimes you glance over at him and have to do a double take because Jungwon is looking at you so gently it kind of takes your breath away. Your last boyfriend was in high school and he was shit, he cared so much more about his studying than you at all, so you don’t why he even bothered to date you. You’ve never been looked at like this before, never been attended to the way Jungwon does.
It makes you feel special. It makes you want to lean into this, Jungwon’s arm on your shoulders, the kisses he presses to your lips, and hand he slides into the back pocket of your jeans. You’re not sure how true all this is, but it feels real and it’s kind of nice.
The only problem is that Heeseung seems to be pulling away.
“I’m busy,” he says when you lean in the doorway of his bedroom. You frown, stepping into his room and closing the door behind you. He sighs but doesn’t stop you when you drape yourself along his back, arms around his shoulders. “Y/N,” he tells you, lifting his head from his studies.
“I miss my big brother,” you coo, kissing the side of his neck. He breathes in a deep breath. “He used to take such good care of me.”
“I have a test coming up,” he tells you and you huff. “C’mon, now’s not a good time.”
“If you’re stressed, let me help,” you offer. “I thought you liked fucking my mouth.”
“I have a lot to review. Just… not tonight,” he brushes off. You frown, pulling back. “Don’t you have some studying to do or something?”
“Fine,” you grump, getting off of him, “but don’t come crying to me when your dick aches.” You walk back over to his bedroom door.
“You’d drop to your knees if I asked,” he comments idly and you glance over at him, hand on the doorknob.
“For someone who insists that I have cock at home, you certainly make me go out a lot lately.” You yank the door open, stepping out. Heeseung sucks on his teeth, closing his eyes as you slam the door shut behind you.
You start to notice it even more when you’re with Jungwon on campus, that Heeseung starts to regard you as just his sister. You didn’t think it would hurt your feelings but as Jungwon draws you closer, Heeseung steps away. If you’re with Jungwon on campus, Heeseung won’t even approach you. If you parents are out late, he won’t even utter the words ‘usual dinner’ to you anymore and you usually end up going home with Jungwon, letting him fuck you into the mattress. Being with Jungwon is great, the more time you spend with him the more and more you like him but the fact is, you still miss Heeseung as much as you don’t want to admit to it.
“I’m not enough?” Jungwon jokes when you’re lying in bed together after another athletic romp in the sheets. You slap him on the chest and he laughs. “I’m kidding. I kind of miss him too, y’know? We had a good time when we were with you.” You wonder briefly if you should be insulted by that comment, but you’re not. You agree with Jungwon, fooling around with the both of them was always fun.
“What the hell is up with him? He barely even looks at me at home, y’know that?” You comment, your head on Jungwon’s shoulder. “I swear I offer to suck his dick every day now and he completely brushes me off. It’s like he’s not even into me anymore.”
“I don’t think so,” Jungwon says, squeezing you gently with the arm he has draped around your back. “I think he’s feeling… left out.”
“He’s your best friend, and I’m his step sister,” you point out.
“You can never be with him in public,” Jungwon points out and you frown. “Not as long as your parents are together.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Let me handle it,” Jungwon says and you look at him, a mischievous smile on his lips. “I know how hyung works. I can get him back in bed.”
You are never listening to Jungwon again, you think as you approach the house party that’s pulsing at the end of the street. The place belongs to a friend of a friend of Jake’s, you think, but you’re not sure. Half the university was invited, including Jungwon and Heeseung’s friend circle and Jungwon told you to come. You managed to wrangle Kazuha and Yunjin to come with you, the three of you approaching the house arm in arm. It smells like alcohol and sweat and weed and the place is shaking with bass, the bottom floor of the family house strobing with neon lights. You’re hesitant to enter but you agreed to Jungwon’s harebrained, unexplained plan and Kazuha and Yunjin will not let you back out anyway.
The place is crowded, hot and confusing from the moment you step inside, Yunjin dragging you further into the house towards where she thinks the kitchen might be. There’s a crowd of people around the doorway so you think she might be right, your hand around Kazuha’s elbow to make sure you don’t lose her in the thick of it all.
You have a drink that might be 70% alcohol in hand when someone sidles up to you, an arm around your waist.
“You came,” Jungwon says, kissing you. You kiss him back, Yunjin and Kazuha sharing a look at the obvious public display of affection. “You guys came too. Good, I’m glad,” he says, looking at your friends as soon as he’s done with you. “I would hate for my girl to come to a party alone.” You elbow him, making him laugh.
“Wow, declarations already? You guys are getting serious,” Yunjin teases you.
“It’s not,” you insist.
“Not yet,” Jungwon says and you turn your head, giving him a hard look. “I gotta go, but I’ll catch you later, okay?” He says and you nod. He kisses your temple, whispering in your ear, “Hyung’s already here. Be upstairs in two hours.” It makes a shiver run through you. He kisses your cheek once more and then leaves, leaving you with your friends.
“Damn,” Kazuha says, shaking her head to herself. “You know, I said you should be with him but I can’t believe you actually got with him.”
“Poor Heeseung,” Yunjin comments, “has to watch you suck face with one of his best friends all the time.”
“He doesn’t watch us,” you tell them, rolling your eyes. “And it’s like you said, he’s my step brother!”
“Still, a crime,” Yunjin tells you. “C’mon, it’s crowded in here,” she changes the topic, grabbing your wrist.
“It’s crowded everywhere!” You shout over the din of music and chatter around you. They pay you no mind, dragging you out of the kitchen and into the living room where the music is loudest.
You misplace both of them in short order, which doesn’t surprise you. People are playing beer pong in the den, someone’s smoking weed downstairs, people are draped all over the place. You’ve run into half the basketball team, the dance team and a handful of the astronomy club. The bathroom is locked because someone is moaning, loudly, inside of it and you’re two drinks deep by the time two hours have elapsed. You haven’t seen Jungwon anywhere, you’re kind of tipsy and off kilter as you attempt to trudge up the stairs. You also haven’t seen Heeseung you realize, but continue up to the second floor anyway.
The second floor is a lot dimmer and quieter than the first floor and there are couples all over the hallway, making out and copping feels up and down the walkway. You have to edge past a couple of girls trying to have sex with their clothes on to get further down the hall. There’s a bedroom that’s unoccupied that you slip into, closing the door behind you. You land on the bed with a sigh, your head spinning from alcohol consumption and what might be a contact high, you’re not sure.
The door to the bedroom opens and you look up, finding Heeseung standing in the doorway. He looks momentarily surprised then torn, turning abruptly away from you to look back.
“That’s my step sister, no way,” he says, turning to the guys behind him. It’s Jungwon, of course, but Jake and Sunghoon are also there, the three of them clearly having goaded him into this.
“You agreed to the dare!” Sunghoon insists. “We said the girl upstairs. We never said what girl!” He’s drunk, you’re not sure he would’ve agreed to this asinine dare concept if he wasn’t. Clearly, Jungwon knew what he was doing, and he was using his drunk friends to his advantage. That and Heeseung’s inability to turn down a dare, no matter what it is. It is all in your favor though.
“She’s—”
“Not related to you by blood,” Jake points out. “Besides, all you have to do is get your hand up her skirt.” You glance away, suddenly embarrassed by the situation. Jungwon never told you what this nonsense plan would entail, he didn’t tell you Heeseung was being goaded into doing something so borderline inappropriate with you. The idea of getting to be with Heeseung is what drew you in, not the idea that his friends are also going to know.
“Heeseung,” you say, standing up. Heeseung looks over his shoulder at you. He looks hesitant in a way you’ve never seen him be before. “C’mon, just get it over with. Or your friends are gonna think you’re a pussy.” Heeseung gives you a look while Jake and Sunghoon giggle, Jungwon lifting a brow at you.
“Fine,” he bites out, “but you’re not watching.” He insists, closing the door on them, shutting it tightly. The room is suddenly almost pitch black and your eyes have to adjust to the darkness. You can hear Heeseung approach you, feel the heat of him when he gets close enough. “This was your plan, wasn’t it? You wanted me to touch you again?” He hisses in the darkness.
“No—”
“Slut,” he tells you and you swallow. “I see that hasn’t changed.” He shoves you backwards onto the bed, knocking you onto your ass. It feels like it did all those months ago, as he climbs on top of you. “This what you wanted?” He asks, his features coming into focus as your eyes get used to the darkness. “Go through all the work, devise this little plan just so I’ll fuck you again, huh? That’s how bad you want my cock?”
“If I say yes, will you fuck me?” You ask, breathless.
“What about your boyfriend? What would he think?” Heeseung retorts, hands on either side of your head.
“Fuck him,” you tell him. “After all this shit, you care about what Jungwon thinks? You don’t even care about what my dad thinks. You don’t even care about what society thinks. Anyone else would think you’re a sick fuck, putting your cock inside your sister. Now you’re scared?” His jaw clenches. “Too scared to fuck me. You are a pussy.”
He gets off of you to instead grab you by the waist, manhandling you onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the bedding is scratchy and foreign underneath you but it doesn’t matter when Heeseung climbs back on top of you. He takes your face in his hands, kissing you hard on the mouth. You moan into his lips, having missed this. His mouth opens against yours, licking into your mouth as he lets his hands drag down your body.
Over your neck and chest, groping and squeezing your breasts, making you moan into his mouth desperately. Heeseung quiets you by shoving his tongue into your mouth, practically fucking your mouth as his hands keep going, down your waist, towards your hips. He wraps his large hands around your thighs, pushing them down to the bed to spread you open. It aches, the strain in your muscles when he forces you open for him, the action bunching your skirt up around your hips, exposing yourself to him.
“I’m gonna fuck this pussy so hard, you’re gonna beg me to stop,” he warns you, lips brushing yours, letting go of you to undo his belt. It clinks in the quiet of the bedroom, so loud it makes you clench around nothing. “Your big brother’s gonna take such good fucking care of you, baby sister.” You moan against his mouth and he kisses you again, biting at your lips. He pushes his jeans down, letting his cock bob out of his boxers, half hard. He aligns himself to your cunt, thong pulled aside, and doesn’t give you time to adjust, shoving inside in one hard thrust.
You yell, surprised by the sudden thrust. It hurts, the way he stretches you open, the way he buries himself inside of you. Your eyes roll back as he hauls you into his lap, your thighs over his as he fucks you hard and fast. Little yelps escape you without thought, your cunt aching, the tip of his cock pounding your cervix with every hard thrust. You have to grip the pillow underneath your head, gasping through his thrusts as he fucks you desperately.
“Fuck, this fucking pussy,” he bites out. “Still so good. This pussy’s so fucking good, baby sister’s got such a good pussy, huh?” Heeseung mocks you. You cry out, head thrown back into the pillow as he takes you as rough as he pleases. “Yeah, does it feel good? Does it feel good when I make it fucking hurt?”
“Yes,” you gasp out. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” you sob, shaking through the pleasure that threatens to consume you. Your cunt squelches with the most obscene noises as he continues to fuck you, getting wetter and wetter as he fucks you manically. You can’t even open your eyes, you’re trembling, shaking through every thrust.
“Desperate little slut,” he accuses you. “Filthy fucking whore, begging me every night to fuck her. Begging me for cock, asking every goddamn night if she can suck me off. If she can please, please have my cock in her mouth,” Heeseung mocks you. “I’m sick? You want your brother’s cock so bad, don’t you, baby?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine out. “Yes, please. Please. Please give it to me. Please, I want it.”
“Oh, you’ll get it.” He leans over the top of you, fucking down into you, making you cry out. His hands find yours, and you let him thread his fingers through yours, keeping you pinned down. His fingers slip right between the gaps of yours and you whine, forcing your eyes open to look up at him. “Open your mouth,” he tells you and you do, tongue out. He spits down into your mouth, his spit running down your tongue, further inside. “Swallow like a good girl.” You do and he shivers. “My good baby sister,” he coos. You gasp through every thrust, eyes closing.
“Heeseung,” you whimper. He shoves into you, grinding his dick hard into you, sending sparks of pain up your spine, the waves of which ebb out into pleasure. “I’m gonna- fuck.”
“Come around me,” he urges. “Come on my cock, baby.”
It shivers through you, shaking all the way through your body. You can barely think, your cunt spasming around his cock. Heeseung leans down, hiding his face in your neck, groaning as he forces a few more thrusts into your tight pussy. You whimper, the drag of his cock inside of you overstimulating your sensitive walls. He tenses up above you, coming inside of you, filling you up. You can feel the heat of it, the throbbing of his cock, the way it seeps out around his cock, too much to stay inside of you.
“Stop avoiding me,” you whisper into the dark, the both of you catching your breath, sweat cooling on your skin. “I did miss you.”
“What about Jungwon?”
“I thought you didn’t mind sharing.” Heeseung pulls back to look at you. “I can like more than one man.”
“You like me?” He asks, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. You roll your eyes, squeezing his hands gently where your fingers are still laced with his.
“You make being your sister very, very difficult,” you inform him. Heeseung kisses you, long and slow and almost sweet.
Heeseung climbs off of you, slowly pulling out. It aches and he kisses your shoulder gently as a silent apology. He gets off the bed and you lie there, sweaty and tired and sated, cum literally leaking out of you for a few moments while Heeseung tucks himself back into his jeans. You look up at him, watching him put himself back together. As soon as he has he reaches a hand out to you, helping you sit up.
“I’m dripping,” you inform him and he smirks. “Wipe that fucking look off your face. I’m a mess. I can’t go out there like this.” The door opens and Heeseung steps forward to cover you, your face hiding in his chest. The door closes and Heeseung glances over, letting out a breath and stepping back. You look around him to see Jungwon standing there with a roll of toilet paper in hand. “Someone let you in the bathroom?” You comment, getting to your feet with Heeseung’s help.
“With luck, it was open,” he says, approaching the two of you. He tears off a section of toilet paper and gets down to his knees, cleaning you up. He also pulls your thong off, shocking a surprised noise out of you. You step out of it when he pulls it down to your feet and stands, handing it to Heeseung. “Your prize,” Jungwon says, looking directly at you as he says it.
“Much obliged,” Heeseung says, also looking at you. You tilt your head at him. “That was the dare. Get the panties off the girl in the bedroom upstairs," he explains, tucking your underwear into his back pocket.
“Oh, you two are so sick,” you tell them, shaking your head at them.
“So are you,” Heeseung reminds you, kissing you. Jungwon kisses you as well the moment Heeseung pulls back.
“You guys wanna kiss now?” You quips. Heeseung and Jungwon share a look and you shake your head, waving a hand. “You know what? Don’t.”
“Are you sure?” Your eomma says for what must be the hundredth time ever since Heeseung told her he was moving into his own place with a couple of the guys. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, watching her fret over Heeseung, as she has been this whole day. Heeseung stays still, like a good son, and lets her push his bangs away from his face, your dad carrying the last box of his things into the apartment. Jungwon and Jake are watching with thinly veiled amusement as Heeseung finally raises his hands to take her hands in his, stopping her. “I mean, you don’t have to move out! We just moved in with your dad and Y/N, you can stay there until you’ve finished school!” She reasons and Heeseung nods along, but clearly just to placate her. “I just don’t understand why you feel like you have to move out. You don’t! There’s more than enough room for you at home and this apartment,” she turns abruptly, putting her hands on her hips, surveying the small apartment. “Well, it’s just not big enough for three boys,” she insists.
“Eomma, I already signed the lease,” Heeseung says and she huffs at him. “It’s fine! It’s a good apartment and it’s in a good neighborhood and I’m living with Jungwon and Jake!” He gestures to his friends, who smile at her but it doesn’t lessen the worry lines in her forehead. “They’re two of my best friends, we’re all responsible. It’s fine. I told you, I just want to move out. Try living on my own,” Heeseung reasons with her.
“You’re so young!” She says and Heeseung sighs heavily. “You’re still in school! What’s the rush?”
There is no rush but you hop off the counter and share a look with Jungwon, who resists the urge to smirk. You walk around the squabbling mother and son to help your dad with moving the boxes to the side of what will be the living room. Right now it has a single sofa, a media center and a small TV in it. They have a long way to go to make this a home, but it’s a start.
“Honey,” your dad says, resting a hand on your eomma’s shoulder. Heeseung gives your dad desperate eyes and your dad brings your step mother closer. “I know it’s hard to imagine, but they’re growing up. Heeseung wants to try living on his own. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Y/N decides she wants to move out too—”
“Don’t say that!” She argues and Jake stifles a snort. “Y/N’s still only in her second year of university, she’s so young! She’s our little girl.” You don’t turn away from the boxes in front of you because you already know Heeseung and Jungwon are making faces at your back at the term ‘little girl.’
“Well, we can’t stop them from becoming adults,” your dad reasons.
“Ugh, fine,” she relents but she’s clearly not happy about it. “But you know you can always come home, right?” She tells him and Heeseung nods.
You don’t know whose idea it was to move into this apartment, but it’s not a bad place and you don’t mind helping them all move in. Heeseung is right, it is in a good neighborhood and with all three of them living in the small apartment, they’ll be able to handle rent and utilities easily. You wander further into the apartment, towards the back that has a large window that looks out over the main street. It’s a drab, boring view right into the center of the city, four stories in the air and not an elevator in sight but it’s a starter apartment. You put your hands on your hips, startling when someone slides their arms around your middle.
“You like it?” Jungwon asks, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “You’re gonna be over a lot, it’d be a shame if you hate it.” He kisses his way across your shoulder, revealed by the strap of your tank top.
“You live with Jake too,” you point out and Jungwon hums into your skin.
“I wouldn’t worry about Jake,” he says and you roll your eyes. “It’s nice, right?”
“You didn’t need to move out,” you inform him but Jungwon ignores you in favor of kissing your shoulder, up to the crook of your neck, further towards your jaw. “Stop it, my dad’s right there,” you tell him, reaching back to swat at his thigh.
“He’s still trying to talk your step mom down,” he tells you and you giggle.
The three of you end up having to spend several hours talking your step mom down from trying to physically drag Heeseung back home and find a way to get him out of the lease. You spend dinner at the new apartment, ordering in while Heeseung and Jake show her around the place, insisting that it’s very well cleaned, the maintenance team is good, she has nothing to worry about. You have to spend that time trying to talk your dad down from interrogating your boyfriend, which is about as much fun as you expected it to be.
“So you’re a… music production major?” He asks and Jungwon nods in agreement.
“Yes, sir.”
“And that pays well, that degree?”
“Dad!”
They don’t end up leaving until the sun has long since gone down and dinner has been cleared away. Your parents hesitate in the doorway though, checking with you.
“I’m just gonna stay a little later with the guys,” you say and your dad narrows his eyes skeptically. “It’s fine, Heeseung and Jake aren’t going anywhere,” you point out. He eases up slightly, your step mom smiling softly at you. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Midnight,” he warns you.
“I’ll be home by midnight,” you agree. He nods in agreement.
“I’ll walk you guys down,” Jake offers, hopping off the couch to take your parents downstairs. You, Heeseung and Jungwon wish both of your parents a good night, waving until the door closes behind them. All three of you stand around, waiting as the sound of their footsteps gets more and more distant. The sound eventually fades away entirely, and then Heeseung has you by the waist, reeling you in.
“I thought they’d never leave,” he complains, kissing you hard. You reach out blindly but Jungwon fills the space quickly, his mouth finding your neck while his hands fumble with your shorts. Heeseung’s hands slide up your shirt, skimming over your bare waist to cup your chest, squeezing at your bra clad breasts. You gasp into his mouth, Jungwon shoving your shorts down so he can push a hand in between your legs.
“Jake’s coming back!” You remind them, words half lost in Heeseung’s lips. Heeseung moves to your throat and Jungwon lifts his head to kiss you again, quieting you.
“I told you, I wouldn’t worry about Jake,” Jungwon whispers into your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth the next second.
“Oh my god,” you groan, each hand in either boy’s hair. You can feel spit and slick dripping down your slit, pooling on the edge of the counter as Heeseung and Jungwon both suck and lick at your cunt. Heeseung’s tongue is pushed up into your cunt while Jungwon sucks on your clit, the two of them both indulgently eating you. They’ve been at this for so long, you practically ache with oversensitivity but it’s too good to stop them. You lean back against the kitchen cabinets, gasping through waves of pleasure that run through you.
They’re both so intent about it, trading places every so often so they can both taste you, so they can both tongue fuck you and suck on your clit. You’re shaking, trembling through every wave of pleasure, gasping loudly as Heeseung grazes his teeth on your clit, an edge of pain against all the relentless pleasure. You hold him closer to you and he sucks harder at your clit, while Jungwon spreads your pussy open with his fingers, shoving his tongue as deep inside of you as possible.
“I’m gonna come again,” you whine, rocking your hips up towards them. Heeseung pins you down, burying his face further into your cunt, sucking and licking at your clit, Jungwon licking around your entrance. You don’t know how long they’ve been at it but you’ve come twice already and they’ve got you dangling on a wire again. Pleasure pulses through you, deep in your hips, heavy and waiting.
Fingers suddenly plunge inside of you and you shout, hips trying to buck up against Heeseung’s hands holding you down. They curl up against your walls, fucking hard into you until you’re coming, spilling onto the counter and dripping down the cabinets. You tremble on the countertop, fingers fisted in their hair as you come, eyes rolling back, trying to catch your breath.
When they pull back both of them are wiping their mouths of your slick and cum, Jake smirking at you as he sucks your release from his fingers.
“Shit, hyung, no wonder you were so willing to get her alone at that party,” he comments, watching as your chest heaves through every labored breath.
“I told you, Jake,” Heeseung says, eyes raking over your gasping form while Jungwon licks his lips. “There are benefits to moving in with Jungwon and I.”
a/n: *DO NOT ENGAGE IN ROAD HEAD. IT'S DANGEROUS AND STUPID. I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO SAY THIS, JUST DON'T DO IT.
**there is discussion of std / sti testing as well as the use of birth control in the above work, that being said, i still recommend the use of condoms while having sex. please, if you are having sex please be sure you are taking precautions. it's just safer! safe sex saves lives!!
this is a duology, so there's only two parts, so this is the end of the line for stupid games! i hope you guys liked my surprise ending, it all just sort of came together for me towards the end there and i love it. i hope you enjoyed it as well. thanks for loving this idea so much, i never imagined all this love. so thankful to all of you!
serial killer!jaeyun x fem!reader
warnings: please read them and do not engage if you are uncomfy!! smut (mdni), gore, murder, character death, lots of descriptions of saw like traps (mutilation and body gore), blood (ofc), guns, blackmail, unprotected sex, gunplay, petnames (baby), multiple orgasms, weirdly fluffy at the end, anything else lmk bc i guarantee i've missed smthn.
w.c: 33.7k
synopsis: you're trapped in a room with four other people, and there is only one guarenteed survivor. will it be you?
ft. characters: jaehyun (nct), sunoo (en-), heeseung (en-), dayoung (wjsn).
a/n: hi! welcome to my halloween fic that i have scrapped and rewritten 4 times lmaoo. please read the warnings and do not engage with this post if any of the above makes you uncomfy, pls put your comfort first!! i hate how this turned out and i love it all the same. it is not my usual style since i write fluffy fanfics about soulmates at least 80% of the time so if it's shit, i am so sorry! please enjoy if you do decide to read, and i hope your fave survives!
Your eyes flutter open slowly and the moment they do, a stabbing pain splits through your skull, sending your senses reeling. The world around you feels heavy, like a storm just crashed through your body and jumbled your insides. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel a strange, warm trickling sensation on your face.
Instinctively, you lift a trembling hand to your forehead, fingers brushing against a slick wetness and the coppery tang of blood hangs in the air. When you pull your hand away, the sight of thick crimson streaks running across your palm makes your stomach churn, but you feel the need to explore the source, touching the tender gash on your scalp.
“Help! We’re trapped in here!” A girl’s voice, high-pitched and filled with terror and desperation rings through the chaos. Her words stab through your clouded mind, pushing you to focus and look beyond the pain.
You force yourself to take in your surroundings. The floor beneath you is cold, hard concrete that chills your skin through your clothes. The room is wide, but the walls stretch up tall, covered in grimy, cracked tiles. Red stains mar the surfaces, some splattered haphazardly across the tiles, others pooled and dried in dark streaks. It's everywhere, like the aftermath of something disastrous.
Your gaze lifts, drawn upwards towards the ceiling. Industrial scaffolding crisscrosses high above, its rusted metal beams looming. The sight sparks a flicker of recognition - a warehouse? A factory? The place feels abandoned, yet recent, like it’s still haunted by the last horror that just unfolded.
The girl’s voice echoes again, frantic, tearing your thoughts back to the present.
Blinking hard, you try to clear the dizziness that still lingers, your breath shaky as you sit up, the pounding in your head dulls a little, but the fear remains.
Five people, including you, are in the room, all coming to grips with the nightmare you’ve all woken up in. Each person reacts differently, the tension thickening with every breath and realisation of the surroundings.
To your right, there’s a boy who looks barely out of his teens, maybe 20, 21. His blonde hair is tousled, layers falling over a set of delicate, pretty features. His dark eyes are wide as he tries to make sense of it all but failing to grasp the reality of the situation. He wears a bright, eye-catching fit - a pink hoodie with characters on it…Sanrio maybe? It’s hard to tell from the glaze in your eye. But either way, he looks so out of place against the grim backdrop. His hands are shaking slightly as they rest on his knees, his innocence clashing with the horror around him.
Opposite him stands another man, older by a few years, maybe mid-twenties, with a hardened expression that tells a different story. His dark eyes are calculating, his face carved with indifference, a nonchalant coldness to his posture. He’s dressed simply in a faded black shirt and worn jeans, but there’s something sharp about him, as though he’s accustomed to violence or pain. Unlike the boy, this man seems almost detached, unaffected by it all.
Weird…
On the far side of the room is the girl who brought you to attention, pulling you from your unconscious state. She’s banging on the large metal door, her fists bruised and bloodied from her frantic efforts. Her voice trembles as she yells, but now she turns around, her brown eyes wide with fear. Her long, tangled hair hangs around her face, and she’s covered in dirt and what looks like splashes of dried blood on her clothes - a simple white shirt and jeans that are torn at the knees.
One more boy sits close to you, clearly still feeling the effects of whatever beating he endured. His head is placed firmly in his hands as he tries to bring himself around. From what you can see, he’s around ages with you, youthful and pretty, with a sharp jawline and pretty lips. His clothes are ripped, probably struggling with whoever put him here.
The fifth person is you, but the growing dread makes you feel distant from your own body. You clear your throat, the air dry and sharp, your voice hoarse as it escapes. "W-what’s going on?" you ask, timidly, the words coming out cracked and raspy.
“We’re in a death box by the looks of it,” the older man says, his voice calm.
“What do you mean?” The colourful boy asks, his voice shaky, eyes darting around the room, looking for answers. He’s so desperate he looks to the older man hoping for an explanation or reassurance, but there’s none to be found in those dark eyes.
“I mean, look around,” the man continues, standing slowly, unfolding his tall frame. “There’s blood and piss everywhere. You can literally still smell death in the room.” He says it without flinching, his eyes scanning the bloodstained walls with no reaction, like the gore is no more unsettling than a stain he can easily get out with some Vanish.
“And how would you know what death smells like, huh?” the girl snaps, spinning away from the door with her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She’s still trembling, but now her fear has turned into a raging accusation, her fists clenched at her sides. “Are you the one that put us here?”
The bright boy, caught between the man’s cold indifference and the girl’s rising panic, shifts uncomfortably, his bright eyes flickering from one person to the next. You can feel his uncertainty, his confusion, and deep down, you share it.
The man, however, remains unbothered. He stares at the girl with a bored expression, clearly not agreeing with her that the accusation requires a response. There’s not a lot to read on his face; you can’t work out if the girl has clocked him perfectly or if she’s clutching at straws to find reasoning.
"Answer me!" she demands, her voice trembling with fury. "Are you the one that did this to us?"
“You think I put us all in here?” he replies, his tone dripping with disinterest, the accusation itself beneath him. “If I had, do you really think I’d be stuck in this shithole, bruised and battered, and having to deal with you?”
The girl bristles, taking another step towards him, a vein slowly making its presence known on her forehead. "You’re too calm-"
"And you're too loud," he cuts her off and his voice is sharp now, clearly over her dramatics. "Screaming at me isn’t going to open that fucking door."
Tension rises, the air thick with suspicion and apprehension. The boy with the blonde hair flinches at the harshness in the older man, not accustomed to raised voices. "Stop it," he pleads, his voice soft, wavering, oh so gentle. "We shouldn’t fight. We need to figure out what’s happening..."
"Figure out what?" the girl snaps, turning her frustration toward him. "We’re trapped in here like animals!"
Before anyone else can respond, a low mechanical hum interrupts the argument. You glance around, searching for the source, and then, without warning, the tile wall opposite you flickers to life. Everyone falls silent, the room filling with the eerie glow of the screen.
The image shows a boy in his early twenties standing before the camera. His face is smooth and untroubled, with dark brown hair, thick-rimmed glasses that frame his face perfectly, and a pretty nose to match. There’s no mask, no attempt to hide his identity, and his eyes twinkle with an unsettling glee, a bright grin stretching across his lips, completely at odds with the horror of the room.
"Hi!" he chirps, waving at the camera. “You’re probably a little confused, but you shouldn’t be. You all asked to be here." His voice is light and playful. To be fair, it matches his features, but you already know that what he presents isn’t the case.
"Asked to be here?" the younger boy mutters in an innocent pout, resembling a cute penguin.
The boy on the screen just continues smiling, oblivious or indifferent to the growing dread in your hearts. "Dayoung, Jaehyun, Sunoo, Heeseung and Y/N," he says, rattling off your names like he’s reading from a class roll, and he lets each name hang in the air for a moment, allowing you all to figure out who is who by the reactions. "You all answered my ad, y’know, the ones on the dark web?"
The blonde boy - Sunoo - gasps softly, his eyes wide with sudden recognition. The others exchange uneasy glances, knowing they can’t deny his claims. The older man - Jaehyun - folds his arms and glares at the screen with narrowed eyes, his expression hard and calculating.
"You all wanted me to save you, to help you out," the boy on the screen continues, waving his hand around as though explaining something trivial, like when you have to explain a new TikTok trend or why Tesco is the best supermarket in the UK. "Or rather…to help me out."
Dayoung - you presume, being the only other girl in the room - asks, her voice low and filled with bitterness. "What the hell is he talking about?"
Your kidnapper leans in closer to the camera, his grin never faltering. “I asked for a helper. Someone who wouldn’t mind getting their hands dirty. And you guys were the most promising ones who responded.”
Your stomach drops as the full meaning of his words begins to settle. This isn’t a random abduction. You willingly put yourself here.
“I know what you’re thinking,” the boy chuckles softly. “You’re thinking, ‘What did I get myself into?’ Well, let me tell you - you’re in for some fun.” The animation in his body is cartoon-like, soft and playful. He’s finding pure, unfiltered joy in whatever this is, and you don’t know whether he is reading the room wrong or simply fucking psychotic.
"No...I didn’t...I never agreed to this..." Sunoo mutters, his voice shaking.
On the other hand, Dayoung is shaking with anger once again, her face turning red. "This is a sick joke!"
But the boy on the screen doesn’t seem to care about the protests. He continues on, breezily. “You see...I have a bit of a hobby.” His grin widens, and there’s a disturbing glint in his eyes. “I like to murder people. But recently, it’s been getting...a little overwhelming. Too many bodies, too much cleanup. My hands can only do so much, y’know?” He sighs in inconvenience, clearly all the murdering is taking its toll on the boy.
The brooding older man’s jaw tightens, his eyes dark as the boy continues his twisted monologue - you can’t help but eye the man suspiciously, suddenly curious as to why he is here.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s fun and all,” the boy says with a shrug, “but even I can’t do it all by myself. So I figured - why not get some help? That’s where you come in.” He gestures toward the camera, shooting comical finger guns at you all, but absolutely nothing is funny.
“No…no, this isn’t happening,” Dayoung steps back defiantly, her body subconsciously seeking space from the boy despite his absence in the room. You can tell that she never in a million years thought that this was what she was offering help for.
In her case, all she wanted was some cash, a new job and get out of her small town. Someone suggested that the dark web is where all the highest-paying jobs are, they aren’t pretty jobs, but they are jobs. She just never expected this to happen; call it naivety. Could she clean up the blood and ask no questions? For sure. Can she help a murderer commit the crimes? Not so sure.
The murderer on the screen lets out a soft laugh, mocking. “Oh, but it is. You all wanted an escape, right? A way out of whatever hell your life was? Well, this is it. I’m giving you a purpose. A new path. You’re here to help me with my work.”
The room is dead silent now, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone. The realisation hits everyone at once: you didn’t stumble into this nightmare. You walked right into it.
The boy claps his hands together, his grin acting as his most prominent feature, looking like he is about to unlease the punchline to a joke only he finds funny. And to be fair, he is. “Alright, now that we’re all caught up - let’s talk about what happens next.”
You can feel the weight of his words crushing you like a lead blanket. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest, each thud reverberating in your ears as frisson slowly wraps its icy fingers around your throat. The others are still frozen, processing the horrifying reality of the situation. You can see it in their eyes - the slow dawning of horror.
Jaehyun is still standing stoically in the corner, his cold facade cracking ever so slightly. His dark eyes flicker toward the others, calculating, assessing.
Sunoo, is shaking, his face drained of colour. He’s clutching his knees, eyes wide, breath coming in shallow gasps. He looks so young, so fragile; he’s barely holding it together.
Dayoung’s lips tremble, but her eyes burn with an inner fire, a desperation to escape this madness, to fight her way out if she has to. But there’s a fear in her, too - a deep, raw terror that seeps into the edges of her defiance.
The boy next to you, Heeseung, just has his head down, not looking up to even peep at what his new potential boss could look like. He’s quiet, distant, and not mentally in the room with you all even if he is physically.
“I know, I know,” the kidnapper says, as if reading your thoughts. “You’re thinking, ‘This can’t be real, right? There’s no way this psycho actually expects us to help him.’” He chuckles, a soft, almost boyish sound, but there’s an edge of malice behind it. You wonder how many victims heard that laugh as the last noise before they were brutally murdered. “But here’s the thing - it’s very real. And I’m about to give you the chance of a lifetime.”
Jaehyun narrows his eyes, his arms crossed, watching the boy on the screen with a calculating expression. “What kind of chance?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.
The boy’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Glad you asked!” He stands up straighter, chest protruding proudly. “See, you’re all here because you needed a way out of your pathetic lives. Don’t try to deny it - you wouldn’t have answered my ad if you didn’t. Each of you has your own personal hell, something that you want to escape or gain. And that’s what I’m offering you - a way out. A new life.”
You swallow hard, the room feeling smaller, the air tighter. His words stir something in you, a dark truth you don’t want to acknowledge. You were desperate, looking for something…that much is true.
“But,” the boy continues, his voice dropping to a soft, almost conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t just let anyone into my little...operation. No, no. You have to earn your place.”
The atmosphere in the room shifts, a heavy tension filling the space. No one speaks, the silence punctuated only by the sound of your racing hearts and the quiet hum of the projection.
“So here’s how it works,” the boy says, pacing in front of the camera, gesturing animatedly with his hands. “There are a series of tests in place. You can take a turn each, I don’t care what order, that’s up to you guys. You just need to survive. Survive the test, and you win. Fail, and…” he whistles, letting your imaginations run with conclusions of your own, his smile turning into something darker. “Well, you don’t want to fail.”
Dayoung steps forward, her face twisted in disbelief. “You want us to play some sick game for you? Is that it?” Her voice trembles, the earlier bravado she showcased cracking under the weight of the horror she’s facing. And who can blame her?
The boy tilts his head, a patronising expression plastered on his face. “It’s not a game,” he says softly, almost sweetly. “It’s a job interview. If you pass, you get to work for me. You get to leave behind whatever miserable life you were living before. Isn’t that what you want?”
Sunoo shakes his head, his voice weak, barely a whisper. “I didn’t want this...I didn’t know...”
“Oh, but you did know, Sunoo. You knew something dark was waiting on the other side of that ad. But you still clicked, didn’t you?” His tone is mocking, almost sing-song. “You all did. If you guys wanted a normal job, you would have gone on Indeed, not the dark web.”
No one moves, no one breathes. It’s hard to grasp that the lunatic is actually right, and it’s the bitterest pill to swallow.
“This is insane,” Dayoung whispers in disbelief. Sunoo’s wide eyes fill with tears, his hands shaking uncontrollably. Heeseung, a quiet figure at the back of the room until now, looks away, his face pale, as if retreating inward, trying to block out the horror unfolding around him. Jaehyun stands still, his eyes narrowing as though calculating his next move. But even he, with his calm facade, looks shaken.
The boy on the screen throws his head back and laughs, the sound bright and carefree yet insanely manic. It echoes unnervingly in the cold, bloodstained room, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His smile stretches wider, his eyes twinkling with that same psychotic glee.
"Don’t look so dramatic about it!" he says, waving a dismissive hand at the camera. "It’s fun, I promise." No one dares speak, as if the wrong word will trigger whatever madness this boy has planned for you. The boy in the video sighs. "Now, I would get out of your scared little minds and focus if I were you. Seriously, you’re all acting like this is the worst thing in the world." He tilts his head, his smile softening, though it’s far from comforting. "It’s not. I’m giving you a chance. This could be the best thing that ever happens to you."
He pauses, letting the eerie silence settle in. You can hear the sound of your own shallow breaths, the frantic beat of your heart pounding in your ears. His feigned innocent smile never falters even within the quiet.
Dayoung steps forward, her voice filled with fury. “You’re insane. We never wanted this!” One thing you’re learning about Dayoung in this predicament; she’s loud and unabashedly, stupidly brave
The boy just chuckles again, his laugh light and almost boyish, which only makes it more unnerving. "Oh, you’ll see soon enough how much you’ll want this. But if I were you, I’d stop worrying so much about me and focus on yourselves."
The air feels heavier now, as though the walls themselves are caving inward. You feel a growing…’something’ in your gut, a sinking realisation that this isn’t just a game. This is a dream you might not wake from.
Clapping his hands together again, your captor startles you from your thoughts. “Now, let’s get to the fun part!” His energy is high, you can see how his face is lit up with glee, a clear juxtaposition to the rest of you. "The first test is coming up."
Your blood runs cold. "Test?" you murmur under your breath, feeling the weight of the word crash over you like a tidal wave.
The boy’s smile widens as he sees your reaction. “That’s right. The first of many. But don’t worry! Like I said, it’s fun. Just think of it as...an initiation. Survive this, and you’re one step closer to working with me. One step closer to getting out of this room, out of whatever sad little life you were living before.”
Jaehyun’s fists clench at his sides, his knuckles white as the pretty murderer’s words strike a nerve in his chest, but his face remains a mask of control. "What’s the test?" he asks through gritted teeth.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” His eyes gleam with twisted excitement. "I’m Jaeyun by the way. It’s nice to properly meet you all! Good luck with the interview; I’m rooting for you to survive.”
The video flickers and shuts off, the tiled wall goes back to a blank surface and the humming of the projector stops, leaving behind only the sound of your ragged breathing, the quiet gasps of terror from the others.
The shock of Jaeyun’s words hangs in the air, thick and oppressive. Sunoo lets out a shaky sob, covering his face with his hands, his body trembling. Dayoung is pacing now, her eyes darting toward the door, fists still clenched as if ready to punch her way out.
Jaehyun steps forward, his expression hard, a calculating look in his eyes. “He’s playing with us,” he mutters, his voice low but filled with barely restrained fury. “We need to be ready.”
“Ready for what?” Dayoung snaps, her voice breaking. “What the hell are we supposed to do?”
No one has an answer. The silence stretches until you feel like the room is turning into that one hallway in willy wonka. Your heart pounds, fear gnawing at the edges of your sanity. The test is coming. The only question is, will you survive?
_____
Not one of you has uttered a word in the past 30 minutes, each brain focusing on its own fears. The room has fallen into a suffocating silence, the only sound breaking through is Sunoo's quiet, shaky sobs. His soft cries echo in the dim space, bouncing off the walls, making the stillness feel even more unbearable. His breath hitches every now and then, little gasps of panic, his shoulders quivering as he tried, and failed, to keep it together. His bright hoodie, once a symbol of his sunny disposition, now seems like a cruel joke, a beacon of misplaced hope in the grim reality.
You make your way over to him, the concrete floor cold beneath your feet giving you a subtle chill biting at your skin. Kneeling down beside him, you gently place a hand on his back, feeling the tremor of fear that possesses his body. You have no words to offer; nothing you could say would fix this. Instead,you flash him a small, strained smile, trying to convey comfort, even if you don’t believe it yourself.
With your thumb, you gently wipe away the tears collecting under his eyes but the action feels hollow, not filled with the intent you need it to. You know it won’t stop his panic, but in a place as shit as this, sometimes just knowing someone’s there is enough.
Sunoo sniffles, looking up at you with wide, terrified eyes. His lips quiver, but he manages a weak nod, the faintest flicker of relief crossing his face. All he needs to feel like he isn’t alone in this hell.
Meanwhile, Heeseung is finally up, pacing the room. His eyes dart around, taking in every corner, every inch of the walls, looking for something, anything, that might be an escape. His movements are stiff, purposeful, his mind clearly racing.
He didn’t think this was real when he applied. He’s navigated the dark web more times than he could count, seen the fake ads, the scams. Every twisted job post was always a hoax, a trap set by someone looking to get a rise out of thrill-seekers. But this…This wasn’t some elaborate prank. This was real. And as much as he tries to keep a cool head, he isn’t truly prepared for any of this. Who actually would be?
Suddenly, a loud metallic creak cuts through the silence, making everyone flinch. You all turn as a hatch in the wall slowly slides open, the rusted metal scraping against the frame causing the irritating grating in your ears. A cardboard box is thrown through the abyss, it’s small but deliberate, a grotesque gift dropped at your feet. You’ve always liked presents, this one…maybe not so much.
Jaehyun steps forward first, his movements deliberate yet measured, his eyes narrowing as he approaches the suspicious box. With unnerved hands, he opens it despite Dayoung’s cries to leave it alone. Once he rips the flaps open, his face flashes with confusion.
“It’s a collar,” he informs, his voice carrying no emotion as he peers inside, leaning over just enough to pull the object out.
“Like a dog collar?” Dayoung asks tentatively. Her earlier fear has settled into cautious curiosity.
“More like a Battle Royale collar,” you say quietly, stepping up beside Jaehyun. The moment you see it in his hand, your stomach leaps. The worn leather strap is attached to a thick, cold-looking metal device with intricate wiring running along the surface. A faint red light flickers within the contraption. The collar isn’t for show and certainly won't appear on the next Prada F/W season - it’s much more dangerous than a fashion statement.
Your mind races back to all the horror movies you’ve devoured over the years - Saw, Hostel, Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Even the obscure British slashers which somehow found purchase on Amazon Prime that for some reason feature Danielle Scott. You remember the collar from the Japanese cult classic - the way it sat ominously around the necks of the students, a grim countdown ticking away until their last moments. The sight of it here, in Jaehyun’s hands, sends a shiver down your spine, making the hairs on your arms stand on end, a thrill encroached in your blood.
Sunoo inches closer behind you, his footsteps tentative and quiet, afraid to make a sound. His wide, innocent eyes are filled with disbelief, his lips quivering as he stares at the collar in Jaehyun’s hand. He never planned on this being his fate. His new uni friends had dared him to answer an ad which screamed dodgy, saying he lived too cautiously, that he was too safe, too nice. They had called him boring, the good boy, the one who never stepped out of line. They wanted to see if he could do something reckless for once. So he clicked on the ad. This all started as a stupid fucking dare but now, standing here, he’s regretting every second of that decision.
Jaehyun pulls a small card from the box that had been hidden under the leather. His face hardens as he reads it aloud. “For your first task, one of you should put on the collar and sit in the iron chair at the back of the room. Strap yourselves in! It’s quiz night.” He tosses the card to the floor, his lips curling into a sneer and voice losing edge as annoyance seeps in.
The rest of you follow his gaze toward the back of the room, where a chair stands alone, bathed in the bask of an overhead light. It’s hidden in plain sight, none of you registering its existence or importance until this exact moment, which is crazy considering it’s completely unmissable. As you get closer, the details of the chair come into view. The seat is worn, darkened with age, and thick leather straps hang from the armrests, ready to bind whoever sits there. The straps are cracked and rough, but still functional, their purpose and past crimes clear. But it’s the strange contraption beside the chair that sends a wave of nausea through the room.
A twisted metal device sits on a pedestal to the left of the chair, resembling a skeletal hand. Each finger is a cold, metallic clamp, poised to cause irreversible damage. You’ve seen something like it before, it’s a trap. The kind that springs back when triggered, bending fingers until they break. You swallow hard, anticipation rising in your throat as your mind conjures up the image of bone splintering and flesh tearing.
Suddenly, a deafening screech fills the room, the sound of a tannoy system coming to life. The static drone crackles for a moment before a throat is cleared, and Jaeyun’s voice, upbeat and casual, cuts through the tension like a knife.
“Welcome to your first task, which I’ve cleverly named Quiz and Snap! A little fun game to get all your brains and bones working.”
“I hope his quizzing is better than his naming,” Jaehyun snorts, his face set in a grimace.
“I heard that!” Jaeyun’s voice whines through the speakers, an exaggerated pout in his tone. “Anyway, you’ll love this one. For this task, I need one brave volunteer to sit in my lovely antique chair, strap in, and place your hand in that cute little metal skeleton hand over there. See it?”
All eyes are on the device now, the sight of it sending a fresh wave of chills down your spine. There’s something wrong about it - something viscerally terrifying.
Jaeyun’s voice drops, the grin in his tone so palpable it makes your skin pop with goosebumps.“Once you’re all strapped in, I’ll start the quiz. Just five questions. Nothing too hard. Mostly about cleaning up blood, disposing of bodies...you know, simple stuff related to the job you’ve applied for. Easy, right?”
The way he says simple implies it will be anything but.
“What’s the catch?” Dayoung’s voice cuts through, her earlier anxiety now giving way to an edge of scepticism. “Why the hand thingy?”
“Inquisitive! Extra points for you!” Jaeyun giggles through the speaker, and you catch the faintest flicker of pride on Dayoung’s face despite the situation. You need to watch out for that. “Well, if you get a question wrong,” Jaeyun continues, his voice gleeful, “a little spring will snap, and…well, then so will your finger! It’ll bend it back and back and back until - pop - off it goes! So I wouldn’t make a habit of getting answers wrong.”
His grin is so clear in his voice that you can almost see it, hanging in the air like a sickly, invisible presence. You can feel it wrapping around you, tightening its grip on your chest.
Jaehyun lifts the collar, turning it in his hands, his expression a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “And what’s the collar for?” His voice is steady, but you can sense the tension coiling behind his nonchalance.
“Oh, just a little accessory! Something to complete the look. Nothing to worry about, really. What you should be worrying about is which one of you is brave enough to try and pass my first test. And, of course, be in with a chance to become my sidekick. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
Jaehyun’s eyes narrow, and before he can respond, you find yourself speaking, your voice softer than you intended. “What if...none of us want to do it?” It’s the first time you’ve spoken directly to Jaeyun, and the moment the words leave your lips, a prickly chill runs down your spine.
There’s a beat of silence, followed by a laugh from Jaeyun. “Well, pretty lady,” he says, his tone taking on a flirtatious but mocking tone, “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question. But let’s just say, if none of you want to play, you’ll all be sleeping for a very, very long time...”
The threat is suffocating and the atmosphere shifts. The panic that had lay just upon the ocean bed of the situation now feels like a tidal wave, crashing over everyone. The room is thick with unspoken terror, a collective paralysis. Of course, being kidnapped and forced to attend an ‘interview’ doesn’t set everyone with great faith, but hearing that your life could end so blasé-like is what really sets the haunting tone in the space.
Sunoo’s sobs have quieted, but his wide, tear-streaked face looks between each of you, desperate for someone to step up and make this nightmare end. Dayoung’s hands twist nervously at the hem of her shirt, her earlier confidence giving way to hesitation. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but no words come out, only a sharp, shaky breath. Even Jaehyun, who had been so calm and composed, is frozen, his eyes darting between the chair and the collar still clutched in his hand.
Heeseung’s jaw is clenched, his fists balled tightly at his sides. He’s scanning the room again, probably still searching for an escape, but even he knows deep down that there’s no way out of this - not without playing Jaeyun’s twisted game.
You can almost feel the dread sinking in, seeping into your bones. The low hum of fear vibrates in the air, like a pressure building, ready to snap - no pun intended. No one moves. No one wants to be the first. The weight of the decision is suffocating, and you can see it in everyone’s faces - the growing realisation that if no one steps forward, the fate Jaeyun promised is waiting for you all.
“I’ll give you all two minutes to decide,” Jaeyun’s voice suddenly crackles through the speaker again, almost jovial, relishing in the tension. “But if none of you are in that seat when I come back...well…night-night.” He draws out the words, taunting, the sickly-sweet edge to his voice making your skin blister in unease.
The seconds tick by in oppressive silence. Everyone exchanges glances, the fear fairly obvious in the small, cramped space. No one wants to die, but no one wants to be the first to volunteer either. The weight of Jaeyun’s threat makes it insanely hard to breathe. It feels like the room itself is watching, waiting, pressing down on all of you, daring someone to make a move.
But who?
“Look, I-I can’t do it,” she says, her hands wringing together. Her face is like a ghost, her eyes wide and pleading as she looks around at each of you. “I’m not…I’m not strong enough for this. I barely made it through high school biology without fainting. The second that thing snaps, I’ll probably pass out, I’ll never make it.”
Her words filter through your ears but you find it hard to register them or find sympathy. Aren’t most people squeamish with blood? Hardly a solid excuse out of this.
Then again, do you have one better other than the fact that you simply don’t want to?
“I don’t think I can do it either…” Sunoo whispers, his voice trembling. “I-I’m not brave like the rest of you. I shouldn’t even be here. This was all a stupid dare - my friends, they…they told me to apply as a joke. They said I live too safely, that I never take risks. But this? This isn’t what I signed up for. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing…”
His hands tremble, his fingers twitching nervously as he shifts on his feet. Even the thought of being strapped into that chair terrifies him beyond words. His usual sunny demeanour is completely shattered, replaced with raw panic.
Jaehyun snorts, his arms crossed over his chest. “Well, none of us want to do it, kid. But the fact is, we don’t have much of a choice, do we?” His voice is sharp, but there’s a tinge of bitterness in it. He exhales, running a hand through his hair before looking at the rest of you. “Look, I’m not putting myself in that chair. I’ll save myself for harder tasks, give you all a chance to do the simpler ones. God knows what this psycho has planned.”
His words are cold, but you can see the fear flickering in his eyes. He’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be.
“He is right, we need to be smart about this,” you mutter under your breath. “I get it. No one wants to do this. But if we don’t…we know what happens.”
Heeseung, who had been eerily quiet up until now, suddenly exhales sharply and the sound pulls everyone's attention to him. His arms are crossed and he’s been watching as the conversation spirals. But now it’s his turn to speak up.
“I watched How to Get Away with Murder,” Heeseung says unexpectedly, his tone eerily calm. “I mean, I can deal with a few broken fingers in the worst-case scenario, but that show taught me a lot.”
His tone is calm given the circumstances. He stands upright to fake confidence, his eyes scanning each of you with a sharp, assessing gaze. He can see and feel the apprehension in each of you. A TV show isn’t really the best means of knowing how a murderer actually works.
“Look,” he continues, “I don’t give a shit about being Jaeyun’s lackey. Fuck, there’s no way in hell I’m working for that psycho. But if this is what it takes to get out of here, then fine. It’s just a couple of fingers, right? I get this over with, I survive, and then I’ll figure out how to end this whole thing. We need everyone to survive each test at a shot of getting out of here. There is strength in numbers.”
Jaehyun glances at Heeseung, his eyes narrowing, though a flicker of respect passes through his gaze. “You’re serious?” he asks, disbelief threading ever so finely through his voice.
“Dead serious,” Heeseung replies, rolling his shoulders back as if shaking off the weight of what he’s about to do. “Someone has to go first. Might as well be me.”
He knows - he knows - that putting his hand in that device will hurt like hell, but he’s already rationalised it in his head. Broken fingers are temporary; death is permanent. And if this twisted test is the only way to survive long enough to escape, then fine, he'll take the pain. Heeseung's not the kind of guy to back down, not when there's a way forward, however brutal it might be.
You watch him, feeling a strange mixture of admiration and awe. Someone has to make the first move, or you’ll all be dead anyway. His determination brings a sliver of clarity, cutting through the terror gripping you.
Dayoung looks away, biting her lip, her eyes filling with guilt. “But...what if it’s worse than just broken fingers? What if-”
“I’ll handle it,” Heeseung cuts in, his voice sharper now, impatient. “We don’t have time for ‘what ifs.’” He looks toward the chair, and you can see the muscles in his jaw tense, his resolve hardening. “Two minutes. That’s all we’ve got. I’m not waiting around for this asshole to put us all to sleep.”
Without another word, you all watch Heeseung move toward the iron chair, his steps slow but deliberate; he’s walking a path already set in stone. The atmosphere shifts with each step he takes, growing heavier. It’s as if even the air is afraid to stir, afraid to acknowledge what’s about to happen.
Heeseung reaches the chair, his expression still calm, but you notice the subtle way his fingers quake as he reaches out to brush the metal skeleton that holds the fate of his fingers as he takes a seat.
The strange contraption sits gleaming menacingly under the faint light. It reminds you too much of something straight out of a twisted tale you love, the kind of device you’ve seen rip apart flesh and bone on screen. But now, it’s here, in front of you, real and ready to inflict its brutal punishment.
Jaehyun approaches Heeseung, collar still in hand. “You sure about this, man?” His voice is quieter now, cautious. His eyes flit between the chair and Heeseung’s face, secretly begging the boy to not back out now.
Heeseung turns his head slightly, casting Jaehyun a brief look. “No,” he says simply, but with a grim smirk. “But it’s better than sitting around waiting to die.” His voice is calm, like he’s resigned to the pain that’s about to come. He slides into the chair, exhaling slowly as the cold metal presses against his back.
You swallow hard, moving closer alongside Jaehyun and Dayoung, feeling the collective tension in the room ratchet up to a near-breaking point. There’s no way to delay this, no way to stop it. Heeseung’s steely determination is infectious, but it’s also terrifying.
Watching him buckle the leather straps across his chest and arms is surreal, like watching someone chain themselves to their own doom. Jaehyun reluctantly straps and locks the boys wrists to the armrests, and places the collar on his neck, giving him a knowing but sympathetic look as he tightens it, the leather representing more of a noose than a fashion statement.
This is his death sentence.
Dayoung’s voice cracks as she speaks, her words faltering. “Heeseung, if you...if you can’t handle it, we’ll -”
“I’ll handle it,” Heeseung interrupts, his voice absolute. He gives her a brief, almost reassuring glance before slipping his fingers into the grooves of the trap. The device clicks, locking his hand in place with a chilling finality. He breathes in sharply but stays composed, his eyes narrowing in focus.
The room feels like it’s holding its breath, just waiting to be disrupted like still water. Then, without warning, Jaeyun’s voice echoes through the speaker, loud and bright.
“Ah! Looks like we’ve got our first interviewee. Atta boy, Heeseung,” he coos mockingly. “Now don’t look so grim, everyone. I promise this is going to be fun. Just sit back and enjoy the show. Who knows, you might learn a thing or two about the fine art of murder.”
Jaehyun snorts, though the sound is hollow. “Yeah, can’t wait for the master class.”
“Oh, someone’s still got jokes! Cute!” Jaeyun chirps, his voice taking on a teasing lilt bit you can sense the threat behind it. “Now, Heeseung, since you’re the brave soul taking a seat, let me remind you how this works. Get the question right, and you’ll walk away with your fingers intact. Get it wrong, and...well, I think you get the idea. Snap, crackle, pop!”
A sickening sense of anguish washes over you. You glance at Heeseung, whose face is set like stone, determined, though you can see the slight twitch in his jaw as he braces for the worst.
“Let’s start with something simple, shall we? Question one: What chemical is most commonly used to dissolve organic matter, particularly bone?”
The question hits like a hammer against wood, reverberating through the room. You know the answer - you’ve seen enough crime documentaries in your life to know - but the gravity of the situation is causing your brain to short circuit. Finally, you understand contestants on The Chase and seeing them seize up in pressure makes more sense. Maybe you should stop slagging them off and start empathising.
Heeseung, however, is unflinching. He knows this.
“Hydrochloric acid,” Heeseung answers coolly, eyes fixed on the trap, just in the off chance that it’s going to snap anyway despite his own assurance that he’s correct.
For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Then, Jaeyun’s voice comes through again, delighted. “Ding ding ding! Looks like you have potential. Good for you, Heeseung! But don’t get too comfy. The next one’s gonna be trickier...”
Jaeyun’s voice continues to betray light and bouncy colours, like someone introducing a game show, but there’s a sinister undercurrent to it - a dissonance that twists your stomach into knots. That contrast of him compared to your surroundings is what makes it so much worse. If he were dark and brooding, if his voice dripped with malice, at least you’d know what to expect.
But this? This feels like a mockery of the fear gnawing at within you. The way he speaks - so upbeat, so casual - makes the horror of the situation seem unreal; you’re being taunted for even thinking this could be deadly serious.
“Oh! One little thing I forgot to mention, Heeseung, my guy.” There’s a pause between Jaeyun’s interuption, the silence stretching out ominously before he continues. “That collar you’re wearing? Yeah, if you get more questions wrong than right...let’s just say your fingers won’t be the only thing going capute, I’m afraid.”
The impact of his words hits like a Roman Reign’s Superman Punch. Heeseung’s face tightens, his composure faltering for the first time since this interview task began. The suffocating atmosphere in the room turns colder, sharper.
“W-what does he mean?” Sunoo whispers, his voice trembling. His wide eyes dart between the collar around Heeseung’s neck and the rest of you, desperately seeking answers. You notice that about him, how he seeks guidance like a lost lamb.
You daren't think how he will cope with his task.
Yet you don’t have time to think about Sunoo’s own woes as your own heart hammers in your chest, the tension skyrocketing. You try to keep your breathing steady, but Jaeyun’s words tighten around your body like a vice. The room feels impossibly small, the walls closing in, and suddenly, the bloodstains and grime seem more oppressive, more real.
Jaehyun’s brows furrow as he tries to process it all, but his voice comes out strained. “That thing…it’s rigged to kill him if he messes up too much. Fuck, this is insane.”
Heeseung’s gaze remains locked on the finger trap, but his breathing has quickened. His eyes flick briefly to the others, and for a moment, you can see the fear gnawing at him, breaking through that calm facade. But then his jaw sets again, and he straightens his back in the chair, forcing himself to maintain control. Heeseung doesn’t speak, but the flicker of doubt in his eyes tells you all that he understands the stakes now. More than just a few broken fingers are on the line - his life is teetering on a razor's edge.
Jaeyun’s voice hums back into the room, sensing the collective panic. “I wouldn’t worry too much, though,” he says, his tone still obnoxiously bright. “It’s just a little extra incentive, y’know? A bit of motivation to make sure you’re paying attention. Besides, Heeseung, you’re a smart guy! You already got the first one right. Piece of cake, really.”
“Piece of cake?” Jaehyun mutters darkly, his hands balled into fists. “This psycho’s enjoying this.”
“No shit,” you murmur in reply, yet your eyes locked on Heeseung’s collar. The device looks deceptively simple but now that you know what it’s capable of, it seems like something far worse.
Sunoo looks like he’s on the verge of tears again, his hands clasped tightly together, trembling and he holds them to his chest, clearly wishing on a prayer. “Heeseung, you...you can’t get any more wrong. You just can’t.”
Heeseung glances briefly at Sunoo, then at the rest of you. His voice is calm, but you can hear the strain behind it now. “I’ll try not to.”
“Try?” Dayoung echoes, her voice rising with panic. “This isn’t something you just try at, Heeseung. If you get it wrong...”
Heeseung cuts her off, his tone sharper now, trying to maintain control over the situation. “I know. I know what happens. But freaking out isn’t going to help. I just need to focus.” His voice dips lower, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you, if not more. You can see him getting agitated with Dayoung but you know his attitude isn’t directly pointed at her worry for him, but rather the situation he has put himself in.
The rest of you stand frozen, helpless as the seconds tick away. Time feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, and there’s nothing you can do but watch.
Heeseung's chest rises and falls a little faster now, the weight of the situation pressing down hard on him. His hands flex slightly in the grooves of the device as though testing for a way out, but there’s no escaping what’s coming.
Jaeyun’s voice returns, gleeful and dismissive of Heeseung’s pain. “Alright, folks, let’s get this party going again. Question two! Should be easy for a sharp guy like you, Heeseung.” He clears his throat, the grit of it grating your ears through the speakers.
“What’s the best way to get rid of bloodstains on concrete? Think fast!”
Heeseung’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes narrowing as he focuses. You can almost hear the gears turning in his head, calculating the right answer while also bracing for the trap to spring if he’s wrong. The rest of you hang on the edge, nerves frayed, hoping he can pull through. Because who the fuck would know this answer?
Swallowing thickly, the trapped boy can feel his adams apple collide with the metal death trap, which does nothing to clear his mind. Think, think, think. His chants of wishes are meaningless, there isn’t an episode or crime podcast that is coming to his mind that could save him.
He’s fucked.
“B-bleach,” Heeseung finally stutters out, unsure and unprepared for what the consequences are.
There’s a brief pause although it feels like an eternity, and then Jaeyun’s cheerful voice rings out again. “Ohhh, so close! It’s everyone’s go-to answer but bleach won’t get blood out of anything. You could have even said cow’s milk, but bleach is a basic bitch answer.”
Everyone stiffens. Heeseung’s jaw tightens in apprehension and his eyes flick nervously to the finger trap. There’s a moment where nothing happens, and everyone thinks that this is a hoax, that the psychotic boy is just fucking around with your minds.
But then it all happens so quickly.
Heeseung’s breath hitches as the first snap resounds through the room - a brutal, stomach-turning crack. His hand jerks, but it’s locked in place, trapped as the device rips his finger back mercilessly. The bones give way with a sickening crunch, and though Heeseung tries to hold it in and be brave, a guttural scream rips from his throat. The sound is raw, torn from deep within him. You can only akin it to an animal being tortured, and in some way, he is.
His knuckles from his right hand whiten further as it clings to nothing, his other fingers trembling uncontrollably as the trap tightens. You can hear the awful, wet sound of skin stretching, starting to split at the joints. The mechanic isn’t just breaking his fingers…it’s tearing them off.
Blood wells from the tears, trickling down his hand, the droplets splattering softly onto the grimy floor. Heeseung’s entire body trembles as wave after wave of agony courses through him and his breaths come out in ragged gasps, chest heaving violently, but there’s no escape from the vice-like grip.
Dayoung turns away, shielding her eyes from the gore in front of her. Never has she seen something so brutally evil. The worst thing she has ever witnessed was a Seagul popping under a tyre, and even then it took her 2 months of therapy to even glance at a winged animal ever again.
You can't tear your eyes away though, no matter how much you know you should. For just one finger, there’s so much blood, trickling relentlessly like a grotesque, mesmerising waterfall onto the floor, forming a pool of dark red. You hear each drip hit the ground, its quiet sound somehow more deafening than the crack of bone that preceded it. You're frozen, trapped with Heeseung in this nightmare.
“That’s one right and one wrong. Let’s hope for your sake, Heeseung, you get the next questions right. Wouldn’t want to see any more fingers out of place, would we?” Jaeyun mocks. He’s so sarky you wonder how on earth he ended up this way - so numb to all of this.
Jaehyun's attention moves down to the collar that is snugly wrapped around Heeseung's neck. His heart clenches as he realises how much worse things may get. Heeseung treated this as a quiz with consequences. However, when Jaehyun watches the blood run freely from the boy's hand, he realises that this game is far crueller than they could have anticipated. His expression remains stoic, however, disguising his terror. Without the tiny wobble of his Adam's apple, no one would have known he was anxious.
Heeseung's breathing is weak and uneven as his body trembles from shock. The acute, burning agony that had previously ripped through him begins to fade slightly, but it stays in deep, throbbing pulses. He grinds his teeth, pulling in air through his nose, attempting to endure the pain, but it's searing up his arm and into his shoulder.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he wills himself to breathe through it, to focus on something - anything - other than the pain and his other fingers twitch slightly, instinctively trying to pull away from the trap and escape their possible fate, but it's pointless - they’re trapped in there like rats on glue.
"Okay, time for the next round, folks! Are you ready, Heeseung? This one’s a real doozy. Third question!" Jaeyun’s voice is tainted with dark amusement, basking in the misery he is causing. "What's the best way to dispose of a body in under six hours without leaving a trace?"
The room becomes deathly quiet. It's a question no one could know the answer to unless they have done it before. The air feels heavy, as everyone holds their breath, or rather, gifts the air in their bodies to Heeseung. His chest rises and falls fast with your snatched breaths, his mind rushing for anything, any piece of knowledge that may rescue him.
But there's nothing.
"I-" Heeseung stammers, his speech scarcely audible. His throat is dry, his thoughts are confused, and his body is gradually giving up, wracked with distress and anxiety. He tries again, but his words are little more than rasps. "Acid?" It's a crazy and desperate guess, and the moment he says it, his face falls. He knows it's not the right answer.
Jaeyun’s laugh crackles through the speakers, high-pitched and mocking. “Oof, sorry, Heeseung, that’s not quite right. You’d need a lot more time to do that properly…Man, I should have invested in that buzzer.”
Everyone tenses again. Heeseung doesn't even have time to prepare himself before it happens. The second snap is even louder and quicker than the first: a horrific, gut-wrenching crack. His finger is violently jerked back, the bone splintering due to the pressure. This time, the device doesn't stop with a single snap. The finger bends even farther back at an unnatural angle, causing the broken bones to grind together with a sickening crunch. It makes your teeth grind together for some reason. The skin breaks more, the sharp edges of bone ripping through the flesh, blood coughing out in a fine mist and trickling down his hand in thick rivulets.
Heeseung lets out a strangled shriek, and his body convulses in the chair. His scream is muffled, halfway between a gasp and a sob, as he struggles to breathe through the unbearable pain His non-trapped fingers squeeze into fists, his knuckles becoming white as his body reacts instinctively to the sheer agony he is in. Tears burn his eyes, distorting his vision as the room around him appears to shrink, the anguish overshadowing everything.
“Looks like that one’s a little worse than the last, huh? Really fun fact for you all, the fingers located near the middle of your hand are actually attached to more nerves and have more bones than the others. So you better hope you get the next few questions right because otherwise…”
Everyone looks at Heeseung’s severed hand and comes to the same realisation. With his pinky and engagement finger already torn from his hand, his middle finger is up next, which means the most painful of all.
The tortured boy finds it hard to concentrate on the madman’s educational lesson as he sits there, trying to fight the dizziness creeping in from the loss of blood.
"Hey, Heeseung, we've had our ups and downs, right? But I bet you'll appreciate the next one! It's a little challenging, but I believe in you. Fingers crossed!"
Heeseung flinches at the mention of fingers. His entire body is shivering, his muscles taut, and his head is foggy, pain radiates from his hand in unrelenting waves. His pulse thunders in his ears, and the room spins slightly as he struggles to remain aware. Every part of him wants to give up and let the misery engulf him, yet some deep, primordial urge drives him to hold on - to survive.
Jaeyun's voice becomes more serious as he continues the interview. "Okay, listen up. If you wanted to make a murder appear like an accident, how would you shatter the victim's bones in a way that mimicked a fall from a high location without actually dropping them?"
Squeezing his eyes shut, Heeseung’s mind is beginning to race, trying to latch onto something that might help him. Documentaries, tv shows, movies, all play in his head at once like an overstimulating nightmare, and somewhere in that murky chaos, an idea forms.
“...Weights,” Heeseung mutters, his voice hoarse. It’s a shot in the dark, but it’s all he has and it’s better than no answer at all. “You…use weights…drop them…to break the bones, then stage the fall.”
The five of you hold your breath as silence falls over. Even Jaeyun appears to linger longer than usual as he considers Heeseung's response. Then, through the crackle of the speakers, Jaeyun lets out a slow, almost begrudging whistle. “Well, colour me impressed, Heeseung. That…is correct. You actually got it. Who knew you had such a devious mind, eh?”
The shock reverberates through the room because no one, including Heeseung, can believe it. His head lolls forward, and for the first time, he lets out a small, broken chuckle of relief. His chest heaves with a deep, difficult breath, and his ray of hope brightens, even if only slightly.
Sunoo stands next to you, shaking frantically. His gaze darts between Heeseung and the collar placed securely around his neck, his lips twitching with barely restrained terror. Then, unexpectedly, a faint, pathetic sob escapes him. You look at him, experiencing the genuine horror that emanates from his body.
Without thinking, you draw him closer, throwing your arm around his shoulders in an attempt to console him. His body is rigid, yet he leans into you and grabs your sleeve like a lifeline. You've only known him for an hour or so, but with these circumstances, you feel compelled to shelter him. You wouldn’t say you had maternal instincts, none at all really, but you feel a pull towards the boy; like a planet to the sun. .
“And now… the fifth and final question.” He lets the words hang as he breaks the tender moment, “You’ve made it this far, Heeseung which is impressive, but you know how this works. This is the decider. Get it right, and you walk out of here with your life. Get it wrong…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but everyone knows what happens if Heeseung fails. That collar around his neck isn’t just for show. It will obliterate his being if he fumbles on this last question.
There is a shared look of sorrow mixed with the tiniest specal of hope that Heeseung can get out of this, that he might have lost two fingers but he will rise from that chair with his life. It’s all anyone can hope for, particularly the boy himself.
"Alright Heeseung, last one, and let's see what you've got. Who was the first person ever murdered?”
The room freezes and you feel Sunoo’s breath hitch beside you, his body going rigid in your grasp. A ripple of disbelief washes through everyone because this question…it’s fucking impossible. You exchange a glance with the others, hearts pounding, knowing that the probability of Heeseung guessing this right is closer to zero than ten.
Heeseung stares blankly ahead, his thoughts racing. The pain flowing from his wounded hand fades into the background as he realises this is the end. His thoughts race through several clouds of despair, anxiously searching for a solution. However, his thoughts comes up empty. He has no means of answering this. His breathing quickens, his chest rising and falling wildly as the pressure builds, clamping down on him like a vice.
His gaze shifts to his hand, or what's left of it. The gruesome scene of fractured bones, ripped flesh, and pooled blood. His once-strong fingers are now disfigured beyond recognition. It appears alien to him, as if it does not belong to his body anymore, and he certainly doesn't want it to be. The agony that once overwhelmed him has subsided, replaced with a chilly, creeping anticipation of what is to come. He cannot win. He's known it for a while, but this question - this impossible, ludicrous question - solidifies it in his mind.
Heeseung’s heart sinks as the hopelessness floods in, drowning any last flicker of hope. He looks down at the collar around his neck, the cold metal pressing against his skin, and he knows, without a doubt, that it’s going to kill him. His thoughts turn dark, his pulse pounding like a war drum in his ears. The idea of death, once abstract and distant, now feels all too real, looming over him like a shadow.
His mind begins to spiral. He pictures the trap and what on earth it could do to his neck. Would it hurt? Would it be fast? Or would there be a brief moment, just a second, where he’d feel everything before the darkness swallowed him whole?
A bitter taste fills his mouth, the knowledge that he’s going to die here settling like lead in his stomach. There’s no way out. No answer that will save him. He’s done for.
“I… I don’t know,” Heeseung finally whispers, his voice cracked and hollow. It’s not a plea for mercy, not an attempt to bargain. It’s just the truth - cold, hard, and brutal to accept.
Jaeyun's voice, feigning sorrow, returns over the speakers. "That's a shame, Heeseung. According to the Bible, the first murder was committed by Abel. But that doesn't really matter, does it? You got it incorrect.
Sunoo lets out a choked sob, burying his face in your shoulder and shivering vehemently as the reality dawns on everyone.
Heeseung's fate is sealed. He's going to die.
The room is a graveyard of mourning, with the weight of what's going to happen crushing down like a thick and choking fog. Heeseung sits there, shaking, just holding on to his last scrap of hope. The pain from his fractured fingers pales in comparison to the nearing horror that looms over him.
The trap releases Heeseung's finger for just a moment before a quick, abrupt force yanks it back violently. The sound is horrible, a harsh snap that echoes across the room. Flesh shreds, tendons and muscle give way to the unrelenting strain of the pull, and the bone shatters into shards. Blood pours like a crimson rainbow, with the droplets catching the light before falling to the floor to meet their already escaped family.
His anguish is a living thing, twisting and writhing inside him, growing with each heartbeat. He feels the loss - both physical and metaphysical - as his finger is ripped from him. The pain doesn’t just echo in his hand; it reverberates through his soul, a profound reminder that he is about to lose it all. His breath comes in ragged gasps, sharp and shallow, as the world begins to fade at the edges, like a high-opacity vignette.
Amidst the hubbub, your eyes suddenly lower, and you notice it; the red light on the collar flickers like a heartbeat in the quiet. It's a warning sign for approaching disaster, a siren song that you can hear all too loudly. Each LED flicker acts as a countdown, catching everyone's attention.
Confusion sweeps across Heeseung's face, his forehead furrowing as he struggles to grasp the unexpected change in the room until he follows each of your gazes down to his fate. He observes the red glow as it pulses, and it is enough to warp the faces in the background.
He shakes his head weakly, as he attempts to wish the light away. "I…I don't want to die," he murmurs, each syllable a desperate cry that hovers in the air like a ghost. "I...I'm a good person!"
Dayoung’s heart sinks at the sound, and without a second thought, she rushes towards him, the instinct to save overwhelming any sense of self-preservation. “No! We have to get this off him!” she shouts, desperation flooding her voice.
But Jaehyun lunges forward, catching her arm before she can reach Heeseung. “Don’t! If you try and take it off, you’ll die too!” The urgency in his voice is laced with fear; while the boy in the chair’s fate is sealed, the rest of you can still have a chance.
Heeseung's eyes widen with terror and his breath quickens. Desperately, his wrists struggle to escape out of the leather straps, his legs kicking and struggling as he tries to tear himself free with the adrenaline of knowing he is dying in mere minutes, seconds. He opens his mouth, a choking sound emerging as he searches for one last idea, a desperate confession that could rescue him.
But time is no longer on his side.
In a single second, the collar explodes with a thunderous sound that resonates across the room. The blast is brutal, sending pieces of metal and flesh flying in all directions. Blood splashes the walls, mimicking a horrific shower, turning the room scarlet and crimson. Heeseung's head vanishes in an instant, skin and bone crushing under the sheer force of the collar's mechanics, spreading fragments of him throughout the universe like grotesque confetti.
Some of his skin and blood splatter on the rest of you, Dayoung and Jaehyun getting the brunt of it as they stand too close to the crime. Pieces of the boy now firmly clinging to you, his last remnants of hope in each of the lumps of his flesh, begging you to put him back together.
Silence follows, thick and suffocating, leaving everyone in the room trapped in a state of shock, their minds struggling to comprehend the unthinkable. It’s not every day that you see someone blown to smithereens.
Dayoung remains transfixed, her hands quivering at her sides with specs of Heeseung's blood covering her skin. The warmth seems surreal in juxtaposition to the icy grip of disbelief that has settled in her chest. She feels as if she has been driven into a nightmare that she can't escape, her heart beating in frantic panic as the truth of the situation breaks over her like a tidal wave.
Jaehyun's eyes are wide and unblinking, peering into the space where Heeseung formerly sat. The conservatism he wore as armour has crumbled, revealing a raw vulnerability. He feels the weight of guilt crushing down on him, thick and oppressive. He should have done something to stop this madness. But now all that remains is a terrifying quiet, broken only by the gentle patter of blood flowing from the surroundings, as if the room were mourning the loss along with you all.
With his breath hitching in his throat as he grapples with the horror, Sunoo falls to the ground, letting you go, the impact jolting him back to reality. Tears stream down his cheeks, mixing with the blood that clings to his skin. “What just happened?” he whispers, his voice breaking, a fragile thread of sound that feels more like a whistle in the wind. No one can hear him, all drowning in your own minds.
You wipe the blood from your face, spitting out little bits of Heeseung's shattered head from your mouth as you gaze at his motionless corpse, shoulders to feet still attached. There is a beautiful quiet in death, both serene and awe-inspiring. Though his screams of dread and anguish echo in your memory, you know he is finally free.
You just need to make sure you avoid the same fate.
_____
Hours pass by as the group processes Heeseung’s demise. You try to clear up as much of him as you can, finding an old brush in the corner of the room, and sweeping up his head’s ashes. It’s surreal to be sweeping up a splattered head with such a commonly used household tool. Once you finish, you see the pile of him smooshing together, you wonder what type of person he was; good or bad, happy or sad, smart or dumb. You never really got to know him in the fleeting hour you spent trapped here together, all you can run off of is your imagination.
That is easier said than done however, especially with your mind caught up in what happened; it’s hard to separate him from the dismembered mess you’re cleaning up so casually. He seemed kind, and strong-willed, though that might be the reason he’s dead right now.
Taking the first task was a brave but foolish decision. Is it wrong to be thankful that it wasn’t you? Even though you knew the answers, you wonder how your brain would have processed them if you were in the same situation as Heeseung. Like when you watch Catchphrase and get them all perfect, but as soon as you step foot in that studio, your mind blanks out from the pressure.
Sunoo and Dayoung have formed a bond through your time stuck in misery, those two you can read like a book. Both bubbly and bright, well, at least they would be if you met them under different circumstances. Dayoung is a beautiful air hostess who needs a job closer to home now that her mother is sick. When her best friend told her about jobs on the dark web, she applied for a bunch that seemed promising, dirty work that no one else would want to do - cleaning, sex work, drug transportation. She applied for them all. She is far too sweet to be here, and certainly too lovely to be a murderer's assistant.
Jaehyun on the other hand, you haven’t heard a peep, a few grunts here and there, but never a word. He’s strange, constantly working something out in his head that you can’t quite put your finger on. You think about Dayoung’s accusation again but more in-depth.
Clearly, he is not the killer or orchestrator of this entire derangement. But he is hiding something, either about his past or his present; in either case, you need to be wary of him.
"What about you, Y/N," Sunoo says with a sweet grin, "what did you do before this?"
To be honest, you haven't been paying attention to their chat recently, so the question throws you off. "Um, I…go to university."
Dayoung’s eyes light up, a flicker of her usual sunny personality breaking through. “I knew you were about our age! What are you studying?”
Before you can respond, the air crackles to life unexpectedly with the tannoy - it's almost cheery, in sharp contrast to the strain on everyone's faces.
"Sorry, I kept you waiting," Jaeyun's voice echoes uncomfortably light-hearted. "I had some other business to take care of." His voice alone sends shivers down your spine, and the phoney civility makes it much more terrifying. "Isn't it a shame about Heeseung? I was convinced he would make it!"
Your gaze instinctively flickers to where Heeseung’s body lays, and a cold wave of dread washes over you. The atmosphere shifts instantly, becoming even more hostile; Jaeyun’s mere voice is enough to suck the warmth from Sunoo and Dayoung straight out of the room. The others seem equally disturbed - Sunoo pales, and Dayoung’s lips tremble, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“Are you ready for task two?” Jaeyun continues, never actually expecting an answer, because let's face it, you all don’t really have a choice.
“Well, that depends,” Jaehyun mutters under his breath, bitterness tainting his words. “Is it fucking impossible?”
Jaeyun tuts mockingly, “No task is impossible, Jaehyun.” His tone sharpens, clearly irritated by the defiance. No one really talks back to killers like this, so you can understand the animosity that he holds for the older man. “Y/N, angel, could you be a sweetheart and pull that cloth over on the right?”
Your heart skips a beat as he speaks to you directly. You had not seen the big, alarming object wrapped in a thick sheet until now. It lurks in the corner of the room, producing a massive shadow that appears to reach across the ground. With trembling hands, you approach it, the others gazing in tense stillness. The cloth seems heavy in your fingers, and the structure beneath is gradually revealed as you draw it away.
It's...horrifying. The tower rises around 8 feet tall and resembles a monstrous crucifix made of cold, glistening metal. At the top, as well as at the ends of the arm and foot sections, are little contraptions linked to a gear system that is too complex for even a YouTube tutorial to describe. The mechanics look meticulously designed for one purpose: pain. Your breath freezes in your throat as you take in the whole thing.
“Isn’t it beautiful? I made it myself, believe it or not.” Jaeyun’s voice drips with pride, “Someone needs to strap themselves in, and the rest of you... well, your job is simple. Find the keys I’ve hidden-”
“No,” you cut in, your voice surprisingly steady despite the bubbling in your stomach. “Tell us what really happens. One of us goes into this trap, and what?”
There is a pause. Then Jaeyun's voice returns, a bit slower and more deliberate. "Well," Jaeyun drawls, delighting in you discomfort. "See those gears? Once you're strapped in, parts of the machine start to spin all the way around. Slowly at first and each limb gets a full twist, one by one. You've got 10 minutes to find all the keys before your neck gets twisted and...you get the jist"
A countdown appears on the wall, and you realise the terrifying truth. The floor drops out from beneath you.
"So, who's going in?" Jaeyun taunts.
The four of you exchange glances, each of your eyes betraying the same emotion - terror. None of you need to voice it. After witnessing Heeseung’s brutal demise, it's clear that no one wants to be the next victim. The unspoken tension swallows you whole. Jaeyun’s laughter still echoes faintly in your ears, mocking your helplessness as you stand before the towering metal monstrosity.
Jaehyun breaks the silence first. His hands shoot up, palms forward as though warding off any suggestion that he should take the fall. “Not me.” His voice is firm, adamant that he will not be strapped up and deemed helpless. Maybe it’s the toxic masculinity or something else, either way, you don’t really like his mentality.
He steps back, glaring at the floor as if searching for answers in the cracks of the concrete. “I’m no good to you in that trap. I’m...” He hesitates, his brows knitting together as he searches for the right words, contemplating how much he should share. “Good at finding things. Things out of sight.” His lips curl into a faint snarl as his mind thinks in ways you can’t decipher from the twitch in his brow.
Sunoo fidgets anxiously before exclaiming, "I'm really good at escape rooms!" His speech resonates with an unexpected surge of confidence, and his eyes are filled with the hope that this will pardon him. "I always find the last clue!" A short smile flashes over his lips, a proud glance that glows behind his sullen demeanour. Escape rooms require cleverness, a knack for finding hidden things, secret compartments, and codes. He’s putting himself forward as the best option for hunting down the keys. His reasoning is sound, and the relief on his face is almost palpable as he sees the rest of you nod.
You just hope he isn’t lying.
That leaves just you and Dayoung. You can feel their gaze on you, and the weight of expectation presses across your chest like a weight bar, and you have no one to spot you. The boys have already thrown out their reasons.. Now it's your turn. You open your mouth, but your thoughts are blank. How could you even start arguing your way out of this? There is no legitimate justification that will not come out as cowardly. Fear claws at your insides, and for a brief minute, you envision the machine twisting your limbs one by one, hearing the crunch of bone and muscles shredding, and experiencing the excruciating pain. The image makes you feel like vomiting.
Dayoung fidgets next to you, her eyes darting between the rest of you in search of an escape. Her face is pale and fingers tremble as she tugs on the hem of her shirt. You can see her anxiety, a mirror of yours. But underneath that anxiety is truth, and the truth is that someone has to step into the trap - you cannot let that person be you.
The painful instrument dominates your thoughts, its cold, lifeless shape sending shivers down your spine. You can hardly think straight as you look for any excuse or justification to avoid the crucifix-like monster.
"I..." you begin, your voice unsteady and hesitant. "I have quick hands." The lie emerges before you can stop it, a feeble attempt to weasel your way out. “I’m good at…opening things. Picking locks, and…I can hotwire stuff. If worst comes to worst, maybe I can stop the gears.”
The flimsy excuse hangs in the air, and for a moment, you wonder if they’ll see through it. Sunoo, to your surprise, nods quickly, accepting your words without question. His eyes flicker with a strange sense of determination, as though he’s already decided this task will be his moment to prove something - perhaps even to himself. It’s not just about who gets into the death trap anymore; it’s about whether or not the others trust you enough to find the keys and save whoever steps into that crucifix-shaped machine.
Dayoung, however, remains frozen, her terror palpable. She looks between you and the machine with a mixture of disbelief and silent pleading, as if she’s hoping someone - anyone - will speak up and spare her from what’s coming. The claggy air around you grows thicker and more suffocating. Every breath feels shallow, as though you’re inhaling the very tension that blankets the room.
“Dayoung, you get in,” Jaehyun says, his tone flat and absolute. There’s no room for argument, and you can see from the set of his jaw that he’s not going to entertain any. His words hang heavy in the silence, a command disguised as a suggestion.
Dayoung snaps out of her haze, eyes widening with horror as she instinctively goes into defence mode. Nothing like someone forcing you to possible death to spring you alert. “Huh? Why me?” Her voice wavers, panic obvious in her words. “I have twenty-twenty vision, and I’m smaller than all of you! I can squeeze into tight spaces-”
You interrupt, your voice stronger than you feel. “The three of us all have those skills covered. I’ve got good eyesight, and Sunoo is small, he can wiggle into any space that needs crawling into.” You’re desperate now, more than you’d like to admit. If they start considering her reasoning, you’ll be the one stepping into that machine, and you can’t - won’t - let that happen. You don’t know these people. You don’t trust them. What if they strap you in and fail to find the keys in time? What if they’re lying about their abilities? What if they leave you to die?
Sunoo, catching onto your momentum, pipes up next. “Yeah, and you said you were a cheerleader back in high school,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “So that means you’re, like, bendy, right?”
Dayoung glares at him, clearly regretting ever sharing that piece of personal information. “What does that have to do with my limbs being twisted off my body?!” she snaps. “Flexible or not, they’ll still be twirled like a fucking pretzel!”
You wince at the harshness of her words, but Jaehyun, standing by the contraption, doesn't seem fazed. Instead, he glances at Dayoung, his expression unreadable as he adds, “It means you might be able to withstand it more than we will.”
The room falls silent, weighing up the truth of his statement and somehow agreeing with his logic. Dayoung, however, looks at him like he’s lost his mind, her face contorted with disbelief and horror. “Oh, and what about my neck, huh?” she snaps, voice rising. “What if you losers don’t find all the keys and my neck gets snapped? Nobody can ‘withstand’ that more.”
Her words echo in the room, and for a brief moment, everyone is stunned into silence. Jaehyun crosses his arms, clearly unmoved by her protests. He’s decided, and there’s no changing his mind.
"I don't want to die like this," Dayoung says, her voice suddenly low and broken. Her shoulders sag as the gravity of the situation sinks in. Her eyes are glazed over with terror, and you can feel her breaking. All that bravado and bite she had earlier is slowly but surely disappearing.
But Jaehyun's stare is unwavering. He takes a step nearer and rests his hand on the cool metal of the machine, his eyes surveying the intricate gearwork with detached fascination. "We won't let it go that far; just do it," he adds, almost as if he's trying to persuade himself as well as her.
Finally, Dayoung takes a hesitant step forward, her face pale as a ghost. She's resigned, like a prisoner headed to the end of the line. And you can only watch as she climbs onto the platform, her hands shaking as she fumbles with the straps, helping Jaehyun secure her into whatever fate lies ahead.
The sound of the straps and locks clicking into place makes your stomach churn and Dayoung’s breath hitches as the final buckle snaps into position, locking her neck in. You can see the panic rising in her eyes, her chest heaving as the machine stirs to life. She’s finding it hard to believe that Heeseung was so calm, and if he wasn’t, then how the fuck did he hide it so well.
“Excellent! Well done Dayoung,” Jaeyun’s unsympathetic voice bounces between the speakers and down the walls. “The countdown’ll start as soon as your right arm starts to twist! Good luck and remember, this is a team interview exercise.”
Your legs feel like cement as you wobble forward, your gaze darting over the room, looking for any trace of the missing keys. The others follow suit, but it’s clear that the tension has infected everyone’s ability to think straight. The sound of the machine's gears creaking fills the room as the clock ticks down, and every second feels like a mallet, battering you deeper into dread.
Dayoung whimpers behind you, the straps tightening as precious time slips by. The air is thick with her shallow breaths, and the hum of the machine grows louder, more menacing. You can hear the faint clicking of gears preparing to turn, and the thought of her limbs being twisted…it’s enough to make bile rise in your throat.
You can’t think, can’t focus.
The countdown is annoyingly bright and menacing in the corner of your eye as Dayoung’s breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps, the crucifix’s gears clanking ominously and telling the tale of what is to come. Her wide eyes dart frantically between the three of you as her right arm jerks in its restraint, slowly being twisted backwards, the pain already creeping up to her shoulder.
"Please! Oh my God, hurry!" Dayoung cries, her shrieking voice slicing the quiet like a blade. Her body twitches in pain as the cuff tightens around her wrist, and you watch in horror as the skin on her arm stretches unnaturally, taut like a rubber band about to snap.
The grinding noise grows excruciating as the gears yank harder, and suddenly, you hear it: crack - the first bone in her arm fractures loudly, like dry twigs breaking beneath your feet. Blood vessels begin to creep onto the surface of her skin. Her hand twitches furiously, fingers curving into odd angles as her forearm twists tighter and tighter, bones grinding against muscle.
Dayoung’s right arm twists further, the machine now dragging her elbow into an impossible angle. The skin stretches thin, almost translucent, the veins standing out against her flesh. A sickening pop fills the air as her elbow dislocates, and her screams grow louder, more desperate. Blood oozes from her wrist, the pressure of the cuff cutting deep into her skin.
You feel like you’re frozen in place, staring at the horror unfolding in front of you, but Sunoo is sueprisingly the first to break free of the trance. “We need to find the keys!” he shouts, voice tight with panic, to which you and Jaehyun nod, tearing your eyes away from the sight. You all wasted two precious minutes just staring at her when you could have been looking for the keys that could have been saving her.
You rush into action, your mind racing and your hands shaking violently as you yank every object in the room out of its designated space. As you knock it over, a chair smashes to the ground, tearing up its cushion in a blind quest for the key to stop the madness.
Jaehyun searches through a cabinet, tugging drawers out one by one, the wood splintering as he throws them away. "There must be something! Anything!" His voice shakes and you can see desperation in his eyes.
Yanking open a vent in the wall, Sunno’s hands tremble as he feels around inside, the cold metal and dust bunnies brushing his fingertips. Then, he feels a bump and his digits pinch around it, the jagged edges meaning only one thing.
“I’ve got one! I found a key!” he cries out, holding the small piece of metal high. You all rush over to Dayoung, hope surging through you like lightning. Maybe this will work, maybe you can stop it.
Sunoo's heart pounds in his chest as he wrestles with the lock on her right arm restraint. His fingers fumble with the key, trying to find the right angle, but it just won't turn, or more to the point, the key isn't fitting. "No, no, no, no!" he mutters, his voice rising in desperation. He tries again, twisting the key with all his might, but it remains stubbornly stuck.
Jaehyun takes the key from him and tries another lock on the machine. "What the hell?!" He plugs the key into the contraption's base, but the gears continue to revolve. You can hear Dayoung sobbing; the anguish is too much for her to bear.
“We’re wasting time!” you shout, looking around frantically. "Let’s just collect all the keys first, then we’ll figure it out!"
The three of you go back to scrambling around, opening drawers, and checking behind cabinets, Jaehyun even looks around Heeseung’s decapitated body, hoping that one could shine out amongst the blood.
Sunoo discovers another key buried in a crack in the wall, near a dusty old picture. "Another one!" he cries, but the desperation in his voice exposes the helplessness that grips all of you. He pockets the key, and the three of you spread out again, tearing through the room with intent.
Jaehyun is ripping apart the shelf with desperate energy, his knuckles white, when the next horrible thud of the machine resonates across the room, sending a chill down your spine. You turn just in time to see Dayoung's right leg furiously writhing in its constraint, the strap pressing further into her skin. The machine moves its brutal focus to her lower body. Your stomach clenches and nausea rises in your throat as you watch the grotesque scene unfold.
The machine's gears moan, and Dayoung's foot begins to twist awkwardly, as the rotation accelerates. Her thigh remains rigid, its muscles straining and bulging under the pressure, like a rope stretched to its breaking point. Her knee tendons swell beneath her skin, huge cables of flesh pulling and stretching in a dance of resistance. Dayoung's scream punctures the air, a primal, guttural sound that stills your blood. Her face is pallid, smeared with tears and sweat, and her eyes are wide with fear as she thrashes helplessly.
"Oh my God! Not my leg! Not my leg!" She screams with an understandable mix of fear and pain. The thin layer of skin around her knee begins to rip, blood pouring through as the strain goes above what human flesh is capable of withstanding. Her muscles twist and sag as the machine's merciless grasp tightens, and suddenly, with a horrible crack, her knee breaks sideays, making a wet, nauseating sound that echoes like thunder.
The jagged edge of her femur rips through her skin with a nauseating pop, jutting out in a jagged shard. It weirdly reminds you of Adamantoise from Final Fantasy XV. Flesh hangs in torn, ragged ribbons around the exposed bone, and blood pours in a thick torrent, pooling in a dark stain beneath her mangled limb, much like Heeseung’s fingers did, except this is a lot more blood and a lot more evil to watch.
Jaehyun stumbles backwards, panic in his eyes as he tears open another drawer, frantically pulling out a key hidden behind a false panel. His hands shake as he tries the key in the restraint locking her left leg, just in the off chance. “Goddammit! What are these for?!” His voice cracks, teetering on the edge of despair as the key refuses to budge. His breath comes in ragged gasps, desperation turning his hands into quaking fists.
Your mind is overwhelmed by the image of Dayoung's leg, which is no longer recognisable as a limb but rather a tangle of flesh and bone gushing blood. It looks like raw meat shredded apart by wolves. The room spins around you as you claw at the walls, overturning furniture in a wild frenzy, searching for anything - literally anything - to stop this.
Suddenly, Sunoo’s shout pierces the chaos. “I’ve got a gold one!”.
He bolts toward Dayoung, holding up another key as if it were salvation itself. He jams it into the restraint around her left leg, but it doesn’t turn. The machine chugs and Dayoung’s other leg is pulled taut, the bone twisting under the skin in a gruesome slow-motion torture. The sound of her muscles tearing, that awful wet rip, lodges itself in your ears, and you can't shake it.
Then comes the final, sickening snap. The bone in her shin shatters, tearing through her skin in jagged shards. A spray of blood explodes across the room, splattering onto Sunoo’s face, and your legs. It feels warm and sticky against your skin, the coppery scent filling the air and overcoming your senses. Dayoung’s screams have weakened, her voice barely a whisper now, choked with exhaustion and agony, her eyes glazed over in shock, mouth spilling out choked sobs.
It’s amazing how different the circumstances between Dayoung and Heeseung are, yet their deaths follow a similar parallel. The sprays of blood, the weakened states, the bones crushing. It shows that no matter the reason for death, everyone bleeds and breaks the same.
“We don’t have much time!” Sunoo cries, his hands shaking violently, clutching the remaining keys like they’re mocking him. His eyes are wild, filled with fear as he glances between Dayoung’s mutilated body and the infernal machine that continues its slow, merciless work. You can feel it, too - the ticking clock of doom, grinding closer and closer to its inevitable, bloody end.
It’s more daunting than the actual clock behind you.
The machine clicks ominously, and the sound alone makes your stomach lurch. Dayoung’s left arm jerks violently as the mechanical cuffs tighten around her wrist, pulling at her arm and beginning it’s torture on the perfectly in-place limb - the only one she has left. The grinding whir of the machine grows louder, almost gleeful, as though it’s savouring the destruction it's about to unleash on her fragile body. You know Jaeyun will surely be enjoying this - like machine, like inventor.
Her arm twists further, the tendons straining beneath the skin like cords ready to snap. Then, with a sickening pop, her shoulder dislocates just like her right, and you watch as the bone and muscle jut unnaturally against the surface of her skin, threatening to rip through. Blood begins to trickle from the edges of her arm, mixing with the thick pool already staining the floor beneath her mangled legs. Her head lolls to the side, her mouth opening in a weak gasp as her eyes roll back, the struggle for consciousness palpable on her ashen face.
Jaehyun is tearing apart the last piece of furniture in the room, his voice raw with frustration. “There has to be one more key!” He throws the remains of a shattered drawer against the wall, rage flooding his features. It’s supposed to be five keys for the five locks, and even though the older man knows that the likelihood of the last key working, he needs to find it for principle.
The machine doesn’t give you a moment to process that you can’t save her as a dark groan comes from behind her head. it locks into its final phase and Dayoung’s body spasms, her neck jerking in the metal collar now tightening around her throat. Her eyes snap open, wide with pure, unadulterated terror as the realisation hits her, the clock from the projector down to its final two minutes. “No! No, no, no! You said you would save me you fucking assholes.” Her scream is shrill, a piercing wail filled with desperation and horror, the kind that claws at your insides. Her chest heaves as she tries to force air through her constricted throat, her sobs now a mix of strangled cries and gurgling gasps.
The collar tightens further, pressing into her throat like a vice. Rather than spinning her around like it did her arms and legs, this one tightens, squeezing flat against her neck. Her throat bulges unnaturally under the pressure, veins pulsing as the skin stretches to its breaking point. She’s barely able to get a breath, her voice reduced to choking whimpers. “Please, please, stop it!” Dayoung pleads, her wide, panic-stricken eyes darting between you and the others, pleading for mercy, for salvation. “Don’t let it kill me! Please!”
You’re out of time. The keys don’t work and the machine has literally no mercy to offer. But Sunoo isn't going to just let someone die; it's not who he is. He begins to shake the device, kicking and clawing at it, desperation as his driving force. He attempts to remove the leather strap from her throat, but it's too tight to fit his fingers beneath.
“Y/N, you said you can hot wire! Fucking do something,” he cries out, never taking his eyes off Dayoung. He doesn’t know her but even with the dragging hours that have passed, learning about her and forming even a slither of connection, he has to do everything to get her out of this.
In a panic, you rush to the rear of the equipment ripping apart the metal plate concealing its inner workings. Inside, you can see the gears spinning, the chilly, complex system pushing Dayoung's head tighter and tighter, threatening to shatter her neck like a fragile twig.
As your fingers dig into the tangle of cables, the machine roars louder, its gears grinding cruelly, as if mocking your efforts. Sweat pours down your cheeks, and your hands tremble uncontrollably as you grasp at wires, hoping to disconnect something to halt the awful machinery.
"Y/N, hurry!" Sunoo's voice breaks with dread, and his eyes widen as he sees Dayoung's body contort even more. Her short, raspy gasps get faster and more frantic as she struggles against the collar's inexorable tightening. She can't even fight with her body, all of her limbs being held together by straggled pieces of muscle and cartilage. If you were to describe it, you would say what should be her arms and legs have turned into those childhood blankets that disintegrate through years of wear and tear. Yet this only happened in a matter of minutes.
Your fingers fumble with the cables, shaking with every quick movement. You cross some over, hoping that by some miracle, your desperate efforts may put an end to the horror unfolding right in front of you. The air is heavy with tension, and each breath is weighed down by fear and powerlessness. But suddenly, amidst the metallic clinks and grinding hum of the machine, you hear it: the unmistakable click.
The machine surges, accelerating with terrifying speed”
"Y/N! Stop it! Stop it!" Sunoo’s voice is raw, squeaking with sheer panic, but the horror is already set in motion. The machine lets out a final, deafening whir, as if announcing its triumph, and then it happens.
The sound is an abomination - a sharp, bone-splitting crunch that reverberates through the room like a gunshot. It’s not just a snap; it’s a sickening, wet crack and squelch that makes your skin crawl, as though the very marrow inside her bones has been torn apart.
Dayoung’s head shifts distortedly as it falls forward, barely hanging on. Her eyes are wide, lifeless - once filled with terror, now emptied of everything. There’s no struggle left in her, no more screams, no more gasps. The frantic twitching of her body ceases in an instant, the fight drained from her all at once, leaving only a horrifying stillness. Her limbs hang limp in the restraints, the tendons and bones within mangled beyond recognition.
Blood runs from her neck and down her body, creating a deep, black pool with a sticky surface that gleams in the harsh lights above, almost acting like a mirror. Every morsel of life have been drained from her, oozing into the concrete floor and merging with the carnage that has already taken her legs and arms. The machine comes to a slow, halting end, seemingly content with its work, leaving nothing but shattered quiet in its wake.
The silence that follows is oppressive, an emptiness so profound that it feels as if the room is closing in on the three of you. The weight of the terror bears down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe, and your pulse hammering in your ears as the realisation of what has just happened sets in.
As you walk around to see the mess that you helped cause, you place a hand over your mouth, masking your emotions as your eyes trail every piece of her. Dayoung’s mutilated body hangs before you, a disturbing wreckage of blood, bone, and twisted flesh. Her limbs, once full of life and motion, now hang like shattered remnants of a body that once moved, once breathed. The machine has reduced her to ruin, her final scream still echoing faintly in your mind, haunting and relentless.
Sunoo backs up and you catch him before he falls, your left arm scooped around his waist as you hold him steady. You pat his head with your free hand, lulling him to calm down, but no amount of shushing or empathetic words can stop him from shutting down. So, you gently place him down on the ground, facing away from Dayoung’s mangled body.
The clock behind you switches from the dreaded countdown to Jaeyun, his eyes lighting up with joy as he takes in the pretty sight before him.
“Wow. That was a mess huh?” The pout on his face makes him look young, but no matter how baby his face might look, he is still evil throughout his bones. "That is such a shame, guys. Really, I am so sorry. All you needed was one mor-" he stops suddenly and it's quiet as you’re all left in suspense. He giggles and gasps in mocking shock. "Oh no…guys this is all my fault…I didn't put in the right keys...my bad"
The taunting lilt in Jaeyun's voice makes your skin crawl, the shine of the correct keys in his hands only adding insult to injury. The weight of Dayoung's lifeless body settles heavily on your chest, but Jaeyun’s words rip through that veil of despair like a sharp blade, twisting the knife deeper.
"You sick bastard!" Jaehyun shouts out, veins popping from his forehead. Hearing the murderer through a tannoy is one thing, but for Jaehyun, seeing him is so much worse. The smug grin that never leaves, the sheer enjoyment that vibrates through his body as he talks you through the torment, he can’t fucking stand it.
"Even if the correct keys had been in place, Dayoung would still be nothing more than a twisted wreck. This doesn’t change anything. Her fate was sealed the moment this game began. You didn’t find the last key."
Frustration mounts, fists clenched and knuckles whitening. There’s an instinct to lash out, to break something, to do anything to fight the powerlessness suffocating the room. "You’re lying!" Jaehyun snaps, refusing to believe or accept his own downfall in finding the key. "You hid that last key! There was never a chance to save her!"
The murderer on the screen gives a cold laugh, eyes gleaming with perverse pleasure. "Now, now," comes the taunting coo, "I wouldn’t be screaming at your potential future employee, Jaehyun."
A sharp bang fills the space as Jaehyun’s fist slams against the wall, the thud reverberating through the air. "Where is it?" The demand is firm, the need to know outweighing the anger. “Tell me where the last key is!”
A soft, condescending sigh follows. "Why do you care, hmm? Dayoung is already dead, her neck squished like a grape. Why does it matter?" The question is laced with cruelty, the words designed to provoke.
Taking a breath, Jaehyun forces the anger down, his voice dropping to a low growl. He needs to remain calm and focused right now. "Call it curiosity."
Silence hangs for a moment before Jaeyun leans forward, his gaze dark with amusement. "Curiosity, huh?" he muses. "I like that in my workers." The pause stretches on as if savouring the tension. Then, his voice takes on a more dramatic tone. "The last key…is in the eye of the beholder."
“What the fuck does that mean?" The sneer from Jaehyun is filled with disdain as his eyes narrowed in frustration. "Quit with your cryptic bullshit!"
Jaeyun’s grin widens into something grotesque. He doesn’t explain, not even a blues clues crayon drawing to help you understand. Instead, he adopts a chirpier demeanour, clapping his hands together and bringing back that game show host vibe he had at the very beginning.
"Who’s ready for round three?" The shift in tone is as jarring as it is maddening, the man’s sadistic pleasure in his own game shining through.
A whisper breaks the silence. "W-what is it?" Sunoo’s voice trembles, his body shaking and eyes glistening with tears.
"Glad you asked, Sunoo!" The glee in Jaeyun’s voice is palpable, oozing cruelty. "Round three is a favourite in our household. We like to call it...Key Cutter."
A thrill spikes as you glance toward the screen, dread and curiosity settling deep in your stomach. "What...what does that mean?" you ask, voice tight.
"It begins with a scan," he replies, his tone dropping lower and more sinister. “Y/N, why don’t you be a doll and grab the brown envelope on the table to your right?”
Swallowing hard, you nod and move stiffly toward the table, legs heavy. The envelope sits there, innocuous in appearance, yet you know that whatever it contains will be anything but ordinary. With trembling hands, you tear it open and pull out the contents. A stack of MRI images stares back at you, cold and clinical. At first, you don't register what you're seeing, but then the truth hits like a sledgehammer.
The scan shows a skull, some side view and others straight on, but within it, lodged behind the eye socket, is something metallic.
A key…the key.
“What the hell is this?” Your voice barely escapes your lips as the images tremble in your hands.
Jaeyun’s laughter reverberates through the room. "Oh, it’s actually kinda funny. The fifth key you need? It’s hidden inside someone’s skull."
A wave of nausea washes over you as his words sink in. One of you is carrying the key inside your own head.
“How the hell were we supposed to know that?” Jaehyun barks, snatching the scan from your hands quickly, eyes narrow as he studies the image and muscles tensing with each second that passes. His knuckles turn white, gripping the paper so tightly that it threatens to tear. There’s a fire in his eyes - rage, frustration, and helplessness all coiling into a dangerous tornado inside him.
“Didn’t you say you were good at finding things? You should’ve figured that out, Jaehyun.” The taunt from Jaeyun cuts deep, aimed with precision to needle Jaehyun's already strained patience, and clearly it’s working.
Sunoo, wiping his tear-streaked cheeks, takes a trembling step forward. His body is still shaking but there’s a determination now - a need to understand what the fuck is going on, even as fear gnaws at him.
“I...I want to see it,” Sunoo mumbles softly, his voice cracking as he approaches. His hand reaches out, fingers quivering as they touch the edge of the scan and pull it from the man’s grasp. Sunoo doesn’t like anger or confrontation and although he understands Jaehyun and his right to be mad, it doesn’t make him any less frightened of him.
His eyes flit across the image, tracing the lines of the skull, the shape of the eye socket, and finally, the small key embedded within. His breath catches in his throat. “Whose... whose eye is it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
A sinister chuckle echoes through the speakers. “Why don’t you take a closer look, bud?”
Sunoo’s fingers tighten around the paper, pulling the image closer to his face and his brows furrowing as he focuses. There’s something familiar about the shape, the positioning of the skull. He’s seen this before...in a different context. His eyes widen suddenly, like a jolt of icy realisation has shot through him, freezing him in place.
“N-no...” he breathes, the colour draining from his face. His lips tremble, and his whole body runs cold, every part of him going rigid as his heart pounds in his chest, desperate to keep his blood pumping. "I-it’s...it’s mine."
Both you and Jaehyun turn toward him, the air in the room thickening with dread. Sunoo stares at the scan, barely able to process what he’s seeing. His hand lifts shakily to his face, fingers hovering near his right eye, as if he could somehow feel the key hidden inside, buried in his skull. "I-I recognise the fracture," he says, voice trembling. "I...I had an accident a few years ago...a fall. They did a scan, and it looks just like this...This is my skull."
A suffocating silence falls over the room as the three of you stare blankly at the scan, any hope that it was a hoax now ripped away from each of you.
Sunoo is the one. The key is inside him. And now, the terrible weight of what that means settles over the group like a dark cloud.
Jaeyun’s voice, dripping with delight, breaks the tension. “That’s right, Sunoo! You’re the chosen one. You’ve been holding onto the key this whole time. Isn’t it funny how life works?” The sound of his laughter twists the knife further into the collective horror.
Sunoo stumbles back, his legs giving way as he crumples to the floor, shaking violently and backing up to the wall. "No...no, no, no...this can’t be real!" His hands grasp at his face, desperate and terrified, as if he could pull the key out by sheer will alone. Tears stream freely now, the terror overwhelming him completely. It might be his imagination but as the salty liquid hits his lips once again, there’s a metallic taste to it, the key dissolving into his tears.
"Hey, hey, it's okay! We don’t need the key anymore, Sunoo. You’re safe,” you rush to comfort him, your voice strained but hoping that somehow your words will break through his panic. After all, Dayoung’s fate was sealed without that final key. What difference would it make now?
But the instant Jaeyun’s voice cuts in, your skin crawls, and you feel a chill deep in your bones. "Weeeelll..." Jaeyun drags out the word, dripping with sinister delight. You freeze. His tone alone tells you that something much worse is coming. You glance at Sunoo, who is still sitting in a broken heap on the floor, and your stomach turns.
"You see," Jaeyun continues, "those keys you’ve been gathering? They weren’t actually for task two... but you do need them for task three."
The room seems to close in as his words seep into your mind. You can feel Sunoo next to you, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. His eyes glaze over in shock, and he looks like he’s going to be sick - and you wouldn’t blame him if he projectiled all over the floor right now.
The sharp stench of fear and sweat fills the air. His throat bobs, dry lips parting as if he wants to say something, but nothing comes out because there’s nothing to say, nothing that can get him out of this. His chest rises and falls rapidly, breaths shallow, and you see the terror completely take over.
"Y-you’re lying...we don’t need the key..." Sunoo mumbles, but there’s no conviction behind his words. His body betrays him, curling in on itself, as though he’s trying to make himself small enough to disappear.
Jaeyun hums thoughtfully, as though considering. "I wouldn’t lie to you. I make it habit never to lie to my employees. You see, task three? It’s a blood sport. Literally."
A low, ominous hum begins to vibrate in the room, coming from somewhere deep in the walls. The tension mounts as Jaeyun’s explanation continues. "There’s a box in front of you, you see it? That box needs to be filled with blood. When it’s full, the door to the final interview will open. Easy enough, right?" His voice is light, almost playful. But the implications hang heavy in the air, crushing your hope.
Your eyes dart around, searching the dim room until they land on the glass box that had gone unnoticed until now, nestled against the far wall. It's ominous, with measured lines down the side of it, indicating the measurements of what it’s supposed to hold.
"The catch," Jaeyun goes on, relishing every moment of your growing horror, "is that you need all the keys to unlock the cabinet where some special tools are stored. You can’t spill a drop until you have every key in hand because you can only use the tools that I give you! And before you think about it; no, you cannot use Dayoung or Heeseung’s blood, that would be waaay too easy."
Sunoo stifles a sob as he listens, hands clenched at his sides. His breath comes out ragged, and his whole body seems to shake with barely contained hysteria. “N-no...I can’t...I can’t do this!” His voice wavers as his panic deepens. The vomit threatening in his throat seems to rise, and he swallows it back, his face going pale as his lips tremble.
You kneel down beside him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Sunoo, listen to me," you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady. "We can figure this out. Just breathe."
Sunoo shakes his head frantically, panic surging through his veins. "I can’t...I can’t-"
Jaeyun cuts in again, casually flipping the mood. "Of course, you don’t have to volunteer yourself, Sunoo. You all make it a team effort. It’s up to you, I’m all for teamwork, although, I would like it if my new assistant had most of their body intact." He chuckles darkly, the sound grating in your ears like nails on a chalkboard.
Your heart sinks as you absorb his words. You glance at the others, trying to read their faces, but the reality of what’s being asked of you makes everything seem surreal.
"Fill the box with blood, and the door opens. Simple as that." Jaeyun’s words echo, cold and final. "If you want a shot at getting out of here, you're going to need that key. So, what’s it going to be?"
Sunoo squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his arms around himself, trying to keep from falling apart completely. Fresh tears fall down his cheeks and he’s breaking down right in front of you, shaking like a leaf from the wind that Jaeyun has just knocked out of him.
His panic spirals rapidly out of control; breaths come in short, erratic gasps, his chest heaving as if he can’t get enough air. His eyes dart around wildly, searching for a way out, but there is none. His entire body trembles violently, and you can see the sweat gathering at his hairline, his skin pale as death…which is all his body is gearing him up for.
“I can’t…I can’t…I can’t!” His voice cracks, hysteria rising, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He starts backing away, his legs stumbling over themselves as he moves like a cornered animal. “Don’t make me! Please, I can’t do it!”
The desperation in his voice rips through you, and you can’t help but feel awful. Every instinct inside you screams to comfort him, to tell him it will be okay. But the truth is, it won’t be. There’s no escape from this. You’ve seen it too many times already. If you don’t get that key, you’re all going to die.
Your throat is tight, and the words feel like acid on your tongue as you step closer to him, trying to keep your voice steady. “Sunoo…listen to me. We…we don’t have a choice.” You swallow hard, the weight of what you’re about to say crushing you. “If we don’t get that key, we’re all dead. We need it. You know that. You’ve seen what happens here.”
Sunoo shakes his head furiously, his hands coming up to clutch his head as if trying to block out your words. “No, no, no…Please…There has to be another way.”
Jaehyunhis face is twisted in frustration. His fists clench and unclench, but you can see that same terrible understanding in his eyes. He knows there is no other way.
“There’s no time, Sunoo!” Jaehyun snaps, his voice harsh but cracking with the weight of the situation. “You heard him! If we don’t do this, we’re all going to end up like Dayoung and Heeseung. Do you want that?”
Sunoo’s face crumples, his hands dropping from his head as a sob escapes him. He shakes his head weakly, his voice just a titter or a whisper. “I don’t want to die…I don’t want to…” His wide, tear-filled eyes lock onto yours, pleading for some other solution, for some mercy that clearly no one is willing to give him.
You kneel in front of him, reaching out to gently take his nervous hands in yours. The moment your skin touches his, you feel how ice-cold he is, his body in shock. “I don’t want you to die either, Sunoo. None of us want this. But if we do this right, then you won’t. If you lose an eye you can still survive.”
His breath hitches, and you can see the conflict raging inside him. He doesn’t want to do it - no one would - but deep down, he knows you’re right. You can see it in his face, the crushing weight of the truth bearing down on him.
‘I can’t believe this is happening…” he whispers, his voice fragile, broken.
“I’m sorry…” You choke on the words. “I’m so sorry…but we need that key.”
For a long, horrible moment, the room is silent except for Sunoo’s ragged breathing. He’s staring at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nods. It’s the smallest, most reluctant gesture, but it’s enough to get the ball rolling.
Jaehyun, seeing the acceptance wash over Sunoo, lets out a harsh, shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. We can do this. We’ll…we’ll be quick, alright?”
But you all know there’s no way this will be quick. Not if you want him to live.
You scour the room, and Jaehyun eventually finds a rusted metal spoon, one he skidded across the floor in the manic panic of the last task. He holds it up, his hand trembling as he looks at it with disgust. The idea of using something so crude for this…it’s unthinkable. But you have no other choice.
Sunoo is seated against the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them tightly. His breathing is uneven, and the tears have dried on his cheeks but his quivering lips tells you the fear he’s feeling. His eyes are wide, staring off into space as if he’s trying to disassociate, trying to be anywhere but here. He knows what’s coming, and the terror is palpable and paralysing.
Quickly, Jaehyun places the spoon in your hand, dissolving himself of all responsibility in the matter. You don’t argue with him about it though, deciding that at least you can show some compassion in the moment, unlike someone…
“Sunoo, we’re going to do this together, okay? You’re not alone.” Your voice wavers, barely able to keep steady under the pressure.
He doesn’t respond at first, his gaze locked on the floor. But finally, he nods weakly. He looks up at you, eyes glistening with tears. “Just…do it quickly, please…”
You give him a reassuring - if be it fake - nod, but your hands begin to mirror hisnshaking form as you hold the spoon, the weight of what you’re about to do making your entire body feel cold. Jaehyun stands over you, watching intently.
“We have to be careful,” Jaehyun mutters, his voice strained. “We can’t mess this up.”
Ignoring Jaehyun, you and Sunoo look into one another's souls, knowing that there’s no careful way to do this. It’s going to hurt, no matter what.
Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself, and gently place your hand on the side of his head, positioning him. His breath hitches at your touch, and you can feel him trembling beneath your fingers, vibrations trepidation making your hand unsteady. You hate yourself for what you’re about to do to this innocent little lamb, but there’s no going back.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking, and then you bring the spoon to his eye. “I am so, so sorry, baby.”
The second the cold metal touches his skin, Sunoo jerks instinctively, letting out a strangled whimper. “No… no… please-”
“It’ll be over soon!” Jaehyun snaps, his voice tight with panic and impatience. He isn’t a nurturing person, you can tell that much about the enigmatic man, but you guess he is trying to soothe the boy in his own, fucked up way.
You press the spoon against his lower eyelid, feeling the resistance as it digs into his flesh. Blood wells up immediately, dark and thick, as you force the spoon deeper, pushing it into the socket. Sunoo’s screams fill the room, high-pitched and desperate, his body convulsing in pain.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry! Shhh,” you let a few tears fall, voice jittering as you work, your hands slick with his blood which now drips freely from the socket. The flesh tears as you force the spoon in deeper, scraping against bone and wiggling it around to break the tether, until you feel the pop - the horrifying, wet pop - of his eye dislodging from the socket.
Sunoo’s screams reach a fever pitch, his hands clawing at the ground and your chest, his entire body thrashing in agony. Blood pours from his ruined eye, streaming down his face in thick rivulets, soaking his clothes, those cute characters on his hoodie now looking like they’ve failed to survive a Jason Voorhees attack.
You force yourself to keep going, tears blurring your vision, and with a sickening squelch, you pull the eyeball free, catching it in your hand as it flies free from its home. Blood drips from the dangling nerve, pooling on the floor as Sunoo’s sobs turn to broken gasps, his body convulsing in shock and pain. The once-beautiful eye now sits useless and mutilated.
“There…there…” you whisper, voice shaking. But it’s far from over.
With nervous fingers, you reach into the hollow space behind his eye, feeling the sticky, wet mess of blood and tissue. You dig deeper, wincing at the sound of Sunoo’s raw, guttural cries, apologising profusely along the way, until your fingers brush against something cold and hard.
The key.
Sunoo's soft, pitiful sobs bounce around the room as you lean closer, brushing your lips against his forehead and trailing down to kiss away the tears that spill from his remaining eye. His whole body trembles beneath you, the shock of the impromptu surgery overwhelming him, and you feel a fierce protectiveness welling up inside you. He’s like your little brother, fragile and broken, and all you want to do is shield him from the horrors that keep crashing down on him.
You whisper soothing words, your hands gently cradling his head, but it does little to comfort him. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, each one laboured as he fights to keep his grip on reality. You stroke his hair, once blonde now dying red with the blood on your hands.
Jaehyun, meanwhile, is moving swiftly. He yanks the other keys from Sunoo’s blood-soaked pocket, his face a mask of determination, and then reaches out to take the key you’re still holding, your fingers slick with blood. His hand lingers for just a moment, his eyes locking onto yours as if to say ‘good job’, but the compliment lacks conviction. He just wants out of here, and granted you do to, but a little sympathy for the boy in your arms wouldn’t go amiss.
The metal locks clink against each other as he hurriedly makes his way to the box and tries each key, his hands shaking but focused. He jams the first key into the lock, twists it with a click, and tosses it aside. The second follows suit, then the third, each unlocking with a sharp clank that reverberates through the room. Your heart pounds in your chest with every click, the sound marking your descent deeper into this nightmare.
When he reaches the final key - the one you pulled from behind Sunoo’s eye - he hesitates, his thumb brushing over the bloodied surface. He turns to look back at Sunoo, whose broken body is slumped against the wall, pale and drenched in blood. Sunoo’s single eye is half-closed as he fights the sleep that pulls him. Jaehyun’s jaw tightens, and then with a final, decisive twist, he unlocks the last lock and throws the box open.
Inside, the contents are far from what any of you expected. A thin, transparent tube lies coiled neatly next to a length of what looks like wire - flimsy, almost like dental floss. Jaehyun’s face contorts in confusion as he pulls them out, holding the tube and wire up to the dim light.
“What the fuck? How are we supposed to get blood with this?” he mutters, examining the odd materials in his hands. His voice wavers slightly, betraying the exhaustion and frustration that’s building beneath the surface.
You tear your gaze away from Sunoo’s spent body, trying to focus on what Jaehyun is holding and your mind races, trying to make sense of the strange tools laid out before you. Honestly, you expected a knife or a saw, but not this.
Sunoo, still groggy and weak from the pain, turns his head toward Jaehyun, squinting with his one remaining eye. He looks disoriented, his face pale and drawn, but his voice comes out in a weak rasp. “Put the tube…in my socket…” His words are a breathless whisper, as though each one costs him more strength than he has to give.
“There’s not enough blood in there, baby,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice calm, though every part of you is screaming. “We need more than that…” You pause, staring at the box, dread curling in your stomach. “What does it say on the box?” you ask, hoping there’s some instruction that might make this clearer. “How deep is it?”
Jaehyun glances down at the lid of the box, his brows furrowing as he reads the small print engraved there. His lips tighten as he processes it. “It says…the container can hold 1 litre.”
Your heart sinks at the words. A litre of blood. That’s more than any eye socket could ever give, no matter how gruesome the idea. You cast another glance at the tube in Jaehyun’s hand, and that horrible idea solidifies even further in your mind. You’d need to draw blood directly from someone’s veins, from their body - slowly, methodically, until the box fills with enough to unlock the next stage.
“Jesus…” Jaehyun mutters, running a hand through his hair. His eyes dart back to Sunoo, then to you. “We need to decide. There’s no other way, is there?”
You shake your head, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a boulder. “No. There isn’t.”
Sunoo turns his head slightly, trying to make sense of what you’re saying, his face drenched with sweat as he goes through a cold flush. He’s still coming to terms with the loss of his eye, his body limp from the trauma, but he knows there’s more to this task and he has to push through.
His lips part as if he’s going to say something, but no words come out at first. His breath is ragged, and for a moment, you think he might pass out from the stress. But then, he swallows, his throat bobbing, and he looks at you, resignation written all over his face.
“I’ll…I’ll do it,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “If it’s…if it’s the only way…”
“Sunoo, no-” You start to protest, but the look he gives you is so filled with sorrow and determination that it makes your heart break all over again.
“I can,” he breathes, shaking his head weakly. “I’m already…dead anyway. It might as well be me…”
Jaehyun steps forward, his eyes softening as he kneels beside Sunoo. “We’re not asking you to die, Sunoo. We just need enough blood to get through this. We’ll stop before it’s too much, alright?” His voice is low, almost gentle, trying to reassure him, but you can see the strain on his face.
None of you are sure how far this will go.
Sunoo takes a shuddering breath and closes his eye, giving the faintest of nods. He knows there’s no escape, no mercy here, and it crushes your soul to see him like this. You can only begin to imagine how vibrant and charismatic he is outwith the circumstances.
You carefully wipe the blood from his cheek and cradle his face in your hands. You can feel his body trembling beneath your fingers, the fear coursing through him and shock from the blood loss overtaking his nerves, but he’s trying to be brave.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, voice breaking. You wish there were something else you could say, something more you could do to make this easier. But there’s nothing.
“If you make it out, can you…please tell my mum I love her?” It’s a simple last request, but one that tugs at your heartstrings.
Tell my mum I love her. Such a simple, human request - one that breaks you more than any of the blood and horror surrounding you. You press your forehead against his gently, tears brimming in your eyes as you try to find some semblance of strength to give him the answer he needs, even if you are unsure about the fate.
“You’ll tell her yourself, Sunoo,” you whisper back, though the words feel hollow even as you say them. You both know the chances are slim but you cling to the lie because the truth is too unbearable.
His lips quiver, and for a moment, he tries to offer you a smile but it falters before it fully forms. Instead, his eye glimmers with dread and tears, his breath shallow as each exhale hitches painfully in his chest.
“We…we can do this,” you continue, voice shaking. “We can cut through your leg with the wire. I saw it in a movie once.” You don’t know if the suggestion is even realistic, but the desperation in your voice makes it sound plausible - you suppose anything can be justified if it means surviving this. “There’s a lot of blood in the leg…and then we can tourniquet it. We can use Jaehyun’s tie and wrap it around tightly to stop the blood after we fill that stupid box.”
Sunoo’s eye widens, the reality of what you’re suggesting setting in. His whole body tenses, his remaining hand clutching weakly at your sleeve, holding onto you for some last semblance of comfort. The fear is obvious in him, but so is his trust in you. It’s the worst thing - knowing he trusts you to guide him through this but also knowing you’re about to lead him into more pain.
“I know,” you murmur, brushing your thumb against his blood-smeared cheek. “I know it sounds fucking awful and scary…but I promise I’ll stop the bleeding before anything bad happens, okay? You’re not alone in this.”
His chest shudders with a sharp, ragged breath, already foreshadowing his fate with a death rattle. Still, he gives a shallow but definitive nod; he’s surrendering to the outcome that has formed in his head, giving up his life for you and Jaehyun, and it breaks something in you.
Jaehyun watches from the side, his face a stony mask, though you can tell he’s struggling, the weight of what you’re about to do hanging over all of you all like a death sentence. He moves closer, his voice low and controlled, though there’s a slight undercurrent underneath it. “Let’s get it over with. The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
You nod, trying to swallow down the bile rising in your throat. Jaehyun holds out the thin wire, its appearance belying the horrific task it’s going to perform.
Laying back against the wall, Sunoo’s body stiffen, his breaths coming in quick, panicked bursts. His lips are dry and cracked, his whole form trembles as the fear tears him apart from the inside.
“Sunoo,” you say softly, “look at me. Just focus on me, yeah? We’re going to get through this.”
His eye locks onto yours, wide and full of terror, but he nods weakly, his chest rising and falling erratically. His lips quiver, his breaths shallow and quick, as he braces himself for what’s coming next.
You quickly take off his jeans, discarding them and gently lifting his thigh over the wire, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. The thought that in a few minutes his leg will be severed and bone sawed makes your hands shake, but you force yourself to keep moving. You can’t falter. Not now.
Jaehyun steps in to help, holding Sunoo’s ankle firmly and holding his leg in place. He glances at you, his jaw set. “Ready?”
You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
That might be the biggest lie you’ve ever said…or one of them at least.
“I’m so sorry, Sunoo,” you whisper, and with a deep breath, you begin to saw.
The wire digs into his flesh, slicing through the skin and muscle like a knife through butter, its flimsy appearance teaching you never to judge a book by its cover.
Sunoo screams - a raw, gritting sound that rips through the room, filling the air with his agony. The sound pierces you to your core, every second of his suffering echoing in your head as the wire cuts deeper, exposing the red tissue beneath the skin.
Blood spills instantly, thick and dark, pouring from the wound and pooling on the floor. It’s warm, sticky, and the metallic of it all stifles the room, making your stomach churn.
Sunoo thrashes in your grip, his hands clutching at the ground as his scream dissolves into sobs. He’s in agony and his body convulses as the wire digs deeper into his flesh. His face slick with sweat, his eye squeezed shut as he tries to block out the pain, but it’s useless.
You keep pulling the wire back and forth, your hands covered in blood, trembling as the wire grinds through his leg, severing muscle, tendon, and bone. It’s a gruesome, horrific scene, the wet, squelching sound of flesh being torn apart filling your ears.
“Hold on, Sunoo,” you whisper for his comfort, though your voice shakes. “Just a little longer…”
His cries are ragged and throat hoarse from screaming, his whole body is shaking violently, his face twisted in pain. You can see the life draining out of him, the blood loss taking its toll, and you know you have to act fast.
With a final, desperate pull, the wire severs through the leg with a sickening slce, and Sunoo’s leg comes free. His scream echoes through the room, a sound so full of pain and fright that it feels like it’s tearing your soul apart.
Sunoo is barely conscious now, his body limp, his eye fluttering as he teeters on the edge of passing out. His breaths are shallow and rapid, and his face is ashen, the life draining from him with every second.
You drop the wire, horrified by what you’ve just done, but there’s no time to dwell on it because you have to finish this. You have to fill the box or it will all be for nothing.
Jaehyun grabs the tube, plunging it into the open wound, sucking on it to get the flow started, and soon enough the blood begins to flow through it, filling the container. The sight of it makes your chest tighten but you force yourself to watch, to make sure it works. Thick and dark crimson pumps into the small tube you’ve inserted.
It starts slowly - drop by drop, the blood pooling in the bottom of the box, each splash of liquid a reminder of the life draining from him. It feels like time is slipping through your fingers, just like the life from Sunoo’s body.
“Stay with me, Sunoo,” you whisper, voice breaking as the tears build in your eyes. You can barely see through them, but you refuse to let them fall. Not now. You reach out, carefully wiping away the blood thats still falling from his socket and smeared over his clammy skin.
Sunoo’s one good eye flutters weakly open, overridden with pain, yet still trying to focus on you. The sight of him like this - broken, scared - it tears at your heart in ways you can’t describe. “I’m sorry,” you say again, voice cracking under the weight of your guilt. You wish there was something, anything, that could make this easier, but there isn’t.
“Tell me it will be okay,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet the words hit you like a freight train. You swallow hard, a sob rising in your throat, but you push it down. You can’t promise him a lie, but you can’t vocalise the truth either.
You steal a glance at the box as the blood continues to flow into the container, the level slowly creeping higher. It’s almost full, almost there but it feels like it’s taking forever. And Sunoo…Sunoo is fading faster than you can process.
Jaehyun watches in tense silence, his knuckles white as he grips the tube, his face hard but his eyes betraying the same fear and helplessness you feel. His jaw clenches as he steals a look at Sunoo, then back at the box, calculating the blood flow, his mind racing against the ticking clock that seems to be counting down to Sunoo’s last breath.
Finally, the blood reaches the top of the container, the dark liquid filling it to the brim and Jaehyun curses under his breath, his eyes flickering to you, waiting for you to take the next step.
But Sunoo’s body has already gone limp. His breathing has slowed to a near stop.
“Sunoo…” you murmur, panic rising in your chest. You can’t lose him. Not after this. Not now.
“Quick!” you blurt, hands fumbling as you reach for the tie around Jaehyun’s neck. You pull it off in one fluid motion, shaking, and wrap it tightly around his leg, above the gaping wound. You’re gripping it so desperately that you lose sensation in your fingers, but the blood just keeps coming despite your efforts.
“Come on,” you beg, tears streaming freely now, desperate to stop the vicious flow of blood. “Please. Please just hold on!”
You knot the tie with shaking fingers, doing everything you can to slow the torrent, but it’s already too late. His body is cold beneath your hands and the life that was once in his eyes is slowly fading away.
The blood has poured out too quickly, too much of it lost in too short a time. You glance at the box and see it screaming victory - but at what cost? The success feels hollow, a sick joke in the face of Sunoo’s fading life.
“Sunoo, please…please stay with me. You’re going to be okay. You have to be…”
As you mutter the words, you can feel his body grow still, his breath stutters and falters. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your tears falling onto his cold cheek. You kiss away the blood and tears, desperate to bring him comfort, to let him know that he isn’t alone in these final moments.
Sunoo’s lips part, a faint sound escaping him, but it’s not a word - it’s just a weak, broken breath. His chest rises one last time, then falls with finality, and you feel the last of his warmth leave him.
“No…” Your voice is barely a whisper, breaking under the weight of your grief. You can’t look away from him, even as the silence fills the room, thick and suffocating.
Jaehyun steps back, his hands falling to his sides as he watches the scene unfold. The tie around Sunoo’s leg is soaked with blood, useless now and only acting as a symbol of your failure to save him.
The door creaks open, signalling the end of the task, but there’s no relief, no victory. Only loss. Only the hollow, aching void left behind as Sunoo’s body lies motionless before you.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper one last time, though it feels empty now. You hold onto him, even though he’s already gone, the weight of his loss crushing your chest, making it hard to breathe.
_______
The door that you hoped would lead to freedom opens into something far worse. Instead of the grim, blood-soaked chaos you’ve become accustomed to, you're met with a blinding light so harsh that it feels like needles piercing your eyes.
You squint, trying to adjust, and the scene before you slowly comes into focus. It’s jarring - the sterile whiteness of the room, the gleaming tiles that cover the walls, floors, and ceiling, all so clean, so pristine, it feels unnatural. There's no trace of death here, no hint of the violence that has marred your every step. The air smells faintly of disinfectant, as though someone had meticulously scrubbed away any sign of life.
Your eyes are drawn to the centre of the room where a steel table sits. Its surface gleams and has two folding chairs on either side. The setting feels clinical, almost surgical, like a place where emotions have no home, and only cold, calculated decisions are made.
As your vision clears fully, you notice something on the table. It stands out against the spotless surroundings, its presence contrasting.
A gun. Black, sleek, and menacing, it rests atop the table like a predator waiting to strike. It glistens under the fluorescent lights, polished to perfection for this exact moment - a moment you don’t know if you’re prepared for.
Without hesitation, Jaehyun is the first to move. His eyes lock onto the weapon, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, his hand reaching out to grab it. His fingers are mere inches away when the room is filled with a slow, deliberate clap, echoing off the walls with a mockery that makes your stomach twist.
Both of you freeze, turning towards the sound, your hearts hammering in sync. There, stepping calmly into the room, is Jaeyun, the man responsible for all this suffering. But this time, he’s different. The game show host energy that once radiated from him has dimmed, replaced with an eerie calm. His movements are fluid and his face wears an expression of utter contentment.
“Congratulations on making it this far,” he says smoothly, his voice carrying twisted pride. “It was a tough interview, huh?” His smirk widens as he speaks, his eyes flicking between you and Jaehyun, watching your reactions like a predator savouring its prey’s final moments.
The words hit Jaehyun like gasoline on fire. He sees red, the pent-up rage, fear, and exhaustion now coming to blow. With a feral growl, he lunges at Jaeyun, fists clenched, ready to pummel him into oblivion. But before he can reach him, Jaehyun’s body jerks violently. His scream of outrage is cut short and replaced with one of agony as he collapses to the ground, muscles spasming uncontrollably.
You stare in horror, your brain struggling to comprehend what the fuck just happened. Jaeyun’s face remains neutral and his expression almost bored as he watches Jaehyun writhe on the floor. He looks at you, shrugging with casual indifference. “You didn’t think I’d walk in here without some form of protection, did you?” His voice is soft and conversational, like he’s discussing the weather and not the violent collapse of the man before you.
Jaehyun’s body finally stills, but he’s left trembling on the ground. With sheer effort, he manages to push himself up onto his knees, his face contorted in pain and fury.
“What the fuck was that?” he spits out, his tone raw with rage.
Jaeyun raises an eyebrow, almost amused by Jaehyun’s defiance. “Just a little insurance,” he says with a smirk. “A key in Sunoo’s eye wasn’t the only action my medical table got.”
You blink in confusion, trying to process his words. Jaeyun, ever the showman, sighs dramatically and points at the back of his neck. “I installed a little chip into each of you, right at the base of your skull. A ‘zapper,’ if you wanna call it that. I didn’t think I’d need to use it, but it’s nice to have, don’t you think? Keeps things…civilised.”
Digging his fingers into the back of his neck, Jaehyun’s expression twists with shock and anger. “You chipped us?” The words shake as he spits them out, his eyes wild with disbelief. “You’ve tortured us, and you’ve got the nerve to call this civilised?”
Jaeyun’s smirk widens, enjoying Jaehyun’s reaction. “Tortured? Naaah, torture is messy. I gave you choices. Every step of the way. This?” He points to Jaehyun’s shaking body. “This is just an incentive to play by the rules.”
“This is a fucking game to you,” Jaehyun growls through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”
“It’s not a game, Jaehyun. It’s an interview. And you’ve done so well making it to the final round.” He gestures toward the gun resting on the table, its dark presence looming like a shadow over the room. “Call this the work trial.”
The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, as the weight of what comes next begins to sink in. You can feel the tension crackling in the air between the three of you, like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. The gun, once a distant threat, now feels like an inevitability.
Jaeyun’s voice cuts through the tense silence, as smooth as ever. “Can you both take a seat, please?”
You glance at Jaehyun, then at the gun resting ominously on the table, before you both lower yourselves into the cold metal chairs across from one another.
The gun, gleaming under the fluorescent light, is the unwelcomed third party in this macabre meeting. You can feel the weight of it, the way it pulls all the air out of the room, making it difficult to think or breathe. Across from you, Jaehyun is just as tense, his eyes flicking between you and the weapon. Although, while you’re scared of the outcome, Jaehyun looks determined, willing to do anything.
Jaeyun leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, observing the way you both wriggle in discomfort, a fun source of entertainment. “Now, this is the easiest task of all. No wicked schemes or brilliantly designed traps.” His tone is boastful, an artist revelling in his own masterpieces. “All you have to do…is shoot.”
His words hang in the air, heavy and cold like a death sentence. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, your gaze darting from Jaeyun to Jaehyun and back to the gun. There’s a pit forming in your stomach, because whatever happens next, you know you’re going to be unprepared every minute of it.
“The rules are simple,” Jaeyun continues, his voice disturbingly cheerful. “One of you picks up the gun and shoots the other. I need to make sure you’ll kill who I tell you to.” He pauses to gage your reactions, and when he sees your shaking hands and Jaehyun’s mutter of disbelief under his breath, there’s a mocking lilt to his voice. “C’mon, don’t make this harder than it needs to be, guys. I mean, you’ve already killed before, right, Jaehyun? Why hesitate now?”
Jaehyun freezes and face hardens as Jaeyun’s words strike a nerve. The shift is subtle, but you notice it - the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darken with something unreadable. You furrow your brow, confused and suspicious.
“What is he talking about?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your eyes search Jaehyun’s face, looking for answers, but he avoids your gaze, his shoulders tightening.
“Nothing,” Jaehyun mutters with his voice now gruff and defensive.
Jaeyun’s smile spreads wider, almost gleeful. “Oh, you wanna keep it a secret? Okay, that’s fine.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes are gleaming with malice. “But, Y/N, he has killed someone before. What’s to say he won’t do the same to you? You should consider taking the shot. Self-preservation, you know?”
With your mind swirling with doubt, you stare deep into the man’s deadpanned face. The Jaehyun you’ve fought beside, suffered with, suddenly seems like a stranger. To be fair, he is a stranger, yoy don’t know him from adam.
Jaehyun’s fists clench on the table, his knuckles white. “Don’t listen to him,” he snaps, his voice tight with barely restrained fury. “He’s just trying to get inside your head.”
“Am I?” Jaeyun’s tone is laced with cruel taunt now. He takes a step forward, his eyes shining with the pleasure of watching your doubt grow. “Or maybe I’m just telling the truth. I mean, how well do you know him? He’s desperate, Y/N. Desperate men will do anything to survive...ain’t that right, JaeJae?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Jaehyun growls, obviously not content with the nickname nor the underlining accusations.
Jaeyun, of course, is unfazed, his smirk never faltering. “What’s wrong, Jaehyun? Can’t handle the truth?” He leans in slightly, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Face it - you’ll do anything to get ahead. All you have to do is pull that trigger, and you get to live. Easy, right?”
Every part of you wants to scream, to run, to make this nightmare end, but you’re trapped. Trapped between Jaeyun’s manipulations, Jaehyun’s anger, and the gun on the table.
For a moment, everything is still. Then Jaehyun moves.
In a blur of motion, Jaehyun’s hand shoots forward, grabbing the gun with a speed that startles you. He stands, his chair screeching as it scrapes against the floor, and before you can even react, he’s pointing the barrel straight at your head.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he strainly mutters, a hint of regret lacing his tone. “I’m more valuable alive than dead. I’ll make sure this bastard pays, for all of us.”
It doesn’t take him two seconds to pull the trigger, and the moment his does, time itself seems to slow. The world around you shrinks to the narrow tunnel of focus between you and the gun, its evil barrel aimed squarely between your eyes.
The sterile white walls reverberate the sudden echo of violence, making the shot even louder, more deafening. The bright lights overhead seem to flicker for just a second, casting shadows across Jaehyun’s face as he stares at you, frozen in place. The gun in his hand shakes violently, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping it.
For him, the world has gone silent. His ears are ringing, his heart pounding so loudly that he can hear absolutley nothing else.
You, however, remain perfectly still.
The moment stretches on forever. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the air, sharp and bitter, mingling with the sterile scent of the room. You watch Jaehyun’s face twist from anger and sorrow to confusion. His brows furrow and eyes deplete in size as the seconds tick by and the smoke from the gunshot dissipates.
He blinks, disbelief spreading across his features. His chest rises and falls as the enormity of what should have just happened sinks in. Key word being should.
But you’re still there. Sitting calmly, untouched. Not a drop of blood, not a flicker of pain or fear on your face. In fact, there’s something else entirely.
Your lips part in a smile, a soft laugh bubbling up from deep inside you, completely at odds with the life-or-death moment that just unfolded. The sound cuts through the tension like a knife, light and eerie in the quiet aftermath of the shot. Jaehyun flinches at the noise, his eyes darting wildly between you and the weapon in his hand. His pulse quickens, his breath hitching, and you can see the tremor in his hand growing stronger as he tries to make sense of the situation.
He blinks again, harder this time, as if trying to wake himself from a nightmare. But no matter how much he wills it, you’re still sitting there, your expression composed, your eyes gleaming with something - something he can't quite place. It’s not fear. It’s not shock. It’s not even anger.
It’s amusement.
“What the hell…” he breathes, barely above a whisper. His words are broken, disjointed as his mind struggles to form any coherent thought. “I shot you. I…I shot you.”
You tilt your head, your smile widening as you lean back in your chair. There’s a smugness in your posture, a confidence that sends a chill down Jaehyun’s spine. His heart is racing, his chest tightening with a feeling he can’t quite describe. Fear? Confusion? Betrayal? Maybe all three.
“For a detective,” you murmur, your voice low and mocking, “you sure miss the mark.”
He stares at you like you’ve just spoken in a foreign language. “What-what are you talking about?” His voice wavers, the certainty he once had crumbling as the pieces of the puzzle scatter before him.
Your soft giggle echoes in the room again, and you watch as his hands shake, the gun slowly lowering from where it had been aimed at your head. He looks down at it, something he uses almost every day now something he can’t understand.
“I don’t get it…” His voice is weak now, the bravado from moments ago completely gone. The gun in his hand feels heavy, useless almost. “Why are you - what’s going on?”
Before he can even gather a clump of understanding, Jaeyun’s lips brush against your head, soft and tender, the casual affection jarring against the brutal backdrop of the room,making Jaehyun wonder if it’s the smoke or the panic of the ‘work trial’ that’s making him see illusions.
"Good job, baby," Jaeyun murmurs, his words oozing with pride.
“Baby?” Jaehyun echoes, his voice strangled with disbelief.
You stand up slowly, brushing off your clothes and shaking off the last remnants of the innocent facade you wore. Now, you’re free to reveal the truth, and the satisfaction rolls off you in waves. You tilt your head, eyes shining as you lock onto his shattered expression. “What?” you ask, pouting in mockery. “Didn’t suspect me? This is why you’re so terrible at your job, Detective Jeong.”
Jaehyun’s face twists in horror as your words settle in. You were in on this. All of it. “What sick joke is this?” he growls, desperation creeping into each syllable, thick and bitter.
You giggle at his choice of words, filling the sterile room with an eerie playfulness that makes the bewildered man’s skin crawl. "Sick? I don’t know if I’d call it sick.” You glance over at Jaeyun, who’s watching with an amused smirk, before turning back to Jaehyun. "It's so fucking funny from where I’m standing."
Jaehyun’s body jerks as he tries to push himself to his feet, the fire of defiance still burning inside him. But Jaeyun casually pulls out the small remote from his pocket and presses the button without hesitation once again. The sharp, electric snap crackles through the air, and Jaehyun screams just as before, collapsing back into his seat. His muscles lock, spasming as the shock courses through his nervous system.
Keeping his thumb on the button just a fraction longer than necessary, Jaeyun watches with an almost clinical detachment as Jaehyun’s body finally stills. His breath is ragged, and he coughs, choking on the pain. “W-why?” he hisses out, his voice barely more than a rasp, his whole body trembling from the shock.
You casually sit upon the steel table, crossing your legs with the same nonchalance you’d have if you were sitting in a café. Your smile is soft, almost affectionate, as you look down at him. "Well, I hate to pin blame on people, but this is actually your fault."
Jaehyun’s brow knit together, his mind struggling to process everything. "What...what do you mean? How the fuck is it my fault?" His voice is hoarse, broken.
“You see, we know how long you’ve been after Jaeyun. Two years, is it? You've been so relentless, so close, but never quite enough," you give as half an answer and keep your tone light, so scarily similar to Jaeyun’s, yet you sound more evil. Perhaps it’s because Jaehyun not 5 minutes ago had perceived you as a scared girl, trapped in a nightmare.
"My baby has been following you, actually. Quite closely. You spent years interviewing every possible witness, arresting suspects, trying to catch the ‘Midnight Murderer’ and yet, despite all your efforts, you couldn’t quite figure out who or where he was." You pause, watching as Jaehyun’s expression shifts, the pieces clicking together painfully. “Then, you got a tip that he was hiding in the Avenue Garage. You were so desperate for his blood, so eager to finally catch your big break, that you didn’t even question it. You just barged in and killed the first guy you saw.”
Jaehyun’s face pales, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes widen with realisation dawning slowly but surely, like a weight sinking into his gut. “No…” he breathes out, shaking his head, as if denying it could change the truth.
You lean in close, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you whisper, “But it wasn’t him, was it, Jaehyun? You knew it right after you pulled the trigger. The guilt hit you like a freight train, but yet, you still called it in. You claimed your hollow victory and got promoted from Officer to Detective.”
His eyes glaze over with the memory of that night - his hands trembling over the body of the man he killed, the overwhelming rush of panic and regret he’d shoved down deep just to survive the lie. It all happened so quickly, his head not thinking clearly - or practically not at all - just trying to find a means to justify his actions.
“And yet," Jaeyun pipes up, picking up the gun from the table and twirling it effortlessly in his fingers, "you couldn’t let me go, could you? You’ve been trailing me in secret, obsessed, haunted by the ghost of your mistake.” He chuckles darkly. “That’s why you answered the ad I so perfectly orchestrated to catch your interest. Cleaning up a ‘midnight mess,’ right?”
Jaehyun swallows thickly though his mouth is so dry it does nothing for him, his heart thudding in his chest. His worst fear, the nightmare he’s tried to bury is now staring him in the face. His entire career has been twisted into this sick, elaborate game. “So it’s both of you?” he croaks, voice trembling as he finally connects the dots.
“Oh, not me,” you giggle, twirling a lock of your hair with playful ease. “I’m a new-ish addition.”
“The best addition,” Jaeyun coos, kissing your temple and then your lips so lovingly you almost melt onto the table.
Jaehyun’s face contorts with disgust, his eyes darting between you and Jaeyun, trying to find some sense of logic in this twisted reality. “And how did he drag you into this?” he spits out, desperation bleeding through his words as he tries to prolong the conversation, desperately begging his mind for an idea that will help him escape out of this nightmare.
You lean closer, your breath fanning over his face, intimate and unnerving all at once. “Oh, it didn’t take much convincing,” you whisper, smirking as your eyes dart to Jaeyun. "He has a very persuasive tongue." You wink before sitting back up, taking the gun from Jaeyun’s hand with a playful twirl. “That, and, well...you killed my brother.”
“What? When…when did i-”
You smile sweetly, almost pitying the man before you. “That’s right, detective. The man you murdered in cold blood - he was my brother.”
The truth hits him like he just got punched by Muhammad Ali, and for the first time, Jaehyun feels truly, utterly defeated. You can see the exact moment Jaehyun breaks. His expression goes blank, his face ghostly pale as the truth settles over him, suffocating and inescapable. He opens his mouth to say anything but no words come. Because what can he say to a bereaved family member of a man whose blood is on his hands?
"My brother was innocent, Jaehyun," you continue, and for the first time, your voice trembles, just a little. “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A good man, with a family, with dreams.” You pause, staring at the floor in an attempt to find some strength there. “He wasn’t a criminal, wasn’t a part of anything dark or twisted, he didn’t even have a fucking parking ticket. But you didn’t care. You didn’t even stop to think. You were too blinded by your ambition, too eager to make a name for yourself. You saw a body, and you pulled the trigger. ”
Jaehyun winces as your words slap him straight across his cheek. His breath quickens, his mind racing back to that night, the moment he saw a shadow move in the dimly lit garage, the way his heart pounded in his ears. He hadn’t thought twice before firing. He couldn’t afford to. It was best for catching the Midnight Murderer, or so he told himself. But now, staring into your eyes - those eyes filled with fury and loss - he knows there’s no excuse that can absolve him.
“And after you killed him,” you whisper, your voice growing hard, “you didn’t even have the decency to admit your mistake. You lied. You built your career off of that lie. How does it feel, detective? Knowing that every time you got promoted, every time you were praised for your ‘brilliant work,’ it was all built on the blood of an innocent man? My brother has been painted a murderer all because of you.”
Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, forcing them down. You won’t cry. Not here. Not for him. Instead, you steel yourself, wrapping your pain in a cocoon of rage.
Jaeyun who is standing just behind you, places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently as he grounds you and massaging the pain away as best he can. His touch sends a wave of warmth through your body, a reminder that you're not alone in this. You lean into him slightly, drawing strength from his presence.
Jaehyun’s voice finally breaks through the silence, shaky and weak. "So what now?" His voice is hollow, like he already knows the answer, but he asks anyway, clinging to the last shreds of hope. "You gonna kill me?"
You smile, a cold and calculating curve of your lips. “Better,” you say, that peak of vulnerability you showed now pushed back to make way for your wicked side to take over once again. “You’re going to kill yourself. And we’re going to watch.”
Jaeyun steps forward as you hop off the table, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering on your skin, his breath warm against your neck. “You did so well, my love,” he murmurs softly, nuzzling into your hair. His voice is sweet, intimate, that side of him reserved only for you.
Jaehyun stares at the two of you, his eyes widening in disbelief. “And if I don’t?”
Jaeyun chuckles softly against your skin, his lips brushing your ear as he replies, “Then we release all your dirty little cover-ups.” His voice is still blasé. “Because, Detective Jeong, there’s a lot more than just my girls’ brother.”
Jaehyun’s breath hitches, pinpointing the moment the words sink in - the moment he realises just how deep the hole he’s in really is. His mind races, replaying every cover-up, every questionable decision, every corner he cut to get to where he is. It wasn’t just your brother. There were others. He had made too many mistakes, too many wrong choices. And now they’ve all come to bite him in the ass.
"Did you think it was just my brother we knew about?" You ask, your tone deceptively light as you tilt your head and study his expression, watching the colour drain from his face. "No, Jaehyun. You’ve been sloppy. So many good people - innocent people - fell because of you. We have everything. All the proof. Every lie, every falsified report, every life ruined by your hands. And all we have to do is press send."
Jaehyun’s eyes widen in terror. “No,” he breathes, his voice cracking. He starts to shake his head, as if denying it could somehow make it untrue. "Please…no."
“You could’ve stopped after my brother. You could’ve fixed it. But you didn’t. You kept going. You chose this.”
Trembling now, the detective’s entire body shaking with the weight of his sins. He swallows thickly, mind spinning as he desperately tries to find a way out, but there’s no escape. Not now. Not anymore. If he refuses, his entire career, his reputation, everything he’s built will go up in flames. And the world will know him for what he truly is - a fraud, a murderer.
“You never wanted this life, did you, Jaehyun?” you whisper, your voice soft, almost sympathetic. “You wanted to be a hero. But somewhere along the way, you got lost. You let the pressure, the ambition, the fear of failure consume you. You couldn’t afford to make mistakes, right? But the mistakes just kept piling up.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands fisting in his hair, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "I didn’t…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just…I couldn’t-"
“You couldn’t afford to be wrong,” you finish for him, nodding as if you understand. “But now, there’s no way out. You have two choices, Jaehyun. Kill yourself, or we expose you for what you really are. Either way, your life is over.”
Jaeyun moves around you, stepping toward Jaehyun with a cold, predatory smile. He kneels down in front of him, swapping the blanks for real bullets in the magazine of the pistol. “You see, Detective, you’ve already lost. The only decision left is how much pain you want to feel on the way out.
Every instinct in Detective Jeong screams to fight, to resist, but deep down, he knows. He knows there’s no escaping this. His hands shake violently, the weight of his choices now crushing him.
“You’re fucking monsters. How dare you lecture me when you kill innocent people all the time! It’s hypocritical!”
A cold laugh escapes your lips and you step closer, leaning down so you’re eye-level with him, letting your eyes glimmer with a blend of amusement and scorn. “Hypocritical? Oh, hun, we kill for fun, we know we are evil. But you act innocent, gain from the lives you steal. You’ve made your entire career on the backs of the dead and innocent. You’re the real monster.”
Jaehyun’s breath hitches, and for a moment, you think you see regret flicker in his eyes, but it’s quickly swallowed by anger. “I had no choice! I was trying to do my job! You think I wanted this?” His voice rises, the desperation spilling out of him like a dam bursting. “You think I wanted to become what I am? I didn’t know it was him! I didn’t-”
“Exactly,” you interrupt sharply, straightening up. “You didn’t know because you didn’t care enough to find out. You were too busy fucking chasing glory, too focused on your own pathetic ambition to see the truth right in front of you. But now you have a choice to make, and this time, it’s not about your career. It’s about your life.”
“So, this is it?” he rasps, his voice cracking under the strain. “You think you can just toy with me and I’ll roll over?”
“Toy with you?” You scoff, placing a hand on Jaeyun’s arm, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. “No, this is about consequences, Jaehyun. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done, and whether that means taking the easy way out or letting us destroy you…well, that’s entirely up to you.”
Jaehyun’s hands shake as he grips the gun tighter, his knuckles going white. “I can’t-”
“But you can,” Jaeyun interrupts smoothly, lowering himself closer, the gun now resting against his thigh. “You can end this, Detective. You can make this your final act of bravery. You can take the burden off your shoulders.”
“And leave you both unscathed? You think I’ll just sacrifice myself to protect your twisted little game?” Jaehyun sneers, his voice gaining a hint of strength. But it’s a facade, a last-ditch effort to regain control.
“Oh, it’s not about protecting us,” you say, tilting your head slightly, a smirk tugging at your lips. “It’s about protecting yourself. The truth will come out eventually. Your secrets will spill, and trust me, it won’t be pretty. If you have any semblance of dignity left, this is your best option. But if you refuse,” you lean in, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “you’ll find yourself at the center of a scandal bigger than you could ever imagine. Your career will go up in flames, and you’ll be left with nothing but the ghosts of those you’ve wronged.”
You step back, glancing at Jaeyun, who is watching Jaehyun with a predatory gaze, a hint of excitement dancing in his eyes. “So, what will it be, Detective?”
You wave the gun in Jaehyun’s face, your movements slow and deliberate, offering him a priceless gift. His eyes follow the barrel intently as it sways in front of him. Shame flickers in his expression, but it’s quickly replaced by something darker - his pride, rising like a beast refusing to be caged.
His mind is a battlefield, caught between the unbearable truth of his crimes and the desperate need to preserve the image he’s built. Hero. Detective. A man untainted by the blood on his hands. He’d rather die with that lie intact than face the disgrace of being unmasked as a villain.
His shaking hand reaches out, fingers ghosting over the cool metal of the gun you’re dangling before him. He takes it, trembling as though the weight of the weapon is the weight of all his lies finally coming back to take revenge.
As he raises the barrel under his chin, pressing it to the fragile skin there, his eyes glisten, but whether it’s from fear or a final surge of regret, you can’t tell.
Jaeyun watches him with quiet fascination and joy, his lips curling into a cruel smile. There’s no sympathy in the room, only cold satisfaction as Jaehyun contemplates his final act.
You and Jaeyun exchange a mocking glance, and then you lift your hands, giving a small, sarcastic wave. “Goodbye, Detective~” you mock in sing song.
Jaehyun’s grip tightens, his knuckles paling. His teeth grit together as his finger hesitates on the trigger, the seconds dragging out like an eternity. His face twists into a mask of anger and despair - remorse simmering just beneath the surface, but drowned out by the relentless need to protect his pride.
“I hope you both fucking rot in hell.”
With one last shuddering breath, he pulls the trigger.
The gunshot echoes through the room, deafening in its finality. His body jerks, his head snapping back as blood and bone splatter the walls behind him. He collapses in a lifeless heap, eyes still open, reflecting the briefest remnants of the man he was - or pretended to be.
As the bounce of the gunshot fades into silence, you finally let out a long, shuddering breath. All the tension that had built up over the course of this cat and mouse game unravels, leaving you feeling light, almost weightless. It’s finally fucking over. You can hardly believe it.
Jaeyun spins you around, his hands gentle as they pull you away from the gruesome sight, forcing your gaze away from Jaehyun's crumpled body. His expression softens, a loving twinkle in his eyes. “How do you feel, baby?”
The sense of victory allows a grin to stretch across your face as you finally allow yourself to revel in it. “Fucking fantastic,” you reply, the words leaving your lips in a breathless rush.
You can’t believe you survived - not just this, but everything that came before. All the games, all the manipulation, all the close calls. Deep down, you know Jaeyun would’ve never let anything happen to you, not really. Worst-case scenario, he’d have stepped in, come up with some excuse to save you. But now, knowing Jaehyun is gone, and your brother’s death is finally avenged, you feel truly free.
Jaeyun’s eyes gleam with approval, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You were really good in there,” he murmurs, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I almost believed you were scared for your life.”
You chuckle, looping your arms around his neck, leaning in closer. “I really got into the acting,” you admit with a teasing smirk. Then you tilt your head, feigning a pout. “But did you really have to knock me out, though?”
Your boyfriend’s grin widens as he leans in, stealing a quick kiss that leaves you giddy. It’s exactly what you needed - this closeness, this moment of calm in his arms. You had missed him, and even though you’d only been apart for two days, it felt like too long.
“It’s all part of the experience, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his voice playful. His hands rest at your waist, pulling you close as his warmth melts away the last remnants of tension.
“It feels so much more vindicating when there’s a reason behind it,” you murmur slyly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. For months, you’ve been trying to shape Jaeyun’s approach to this game. Killing for no reason is great and all, but taking down people who deserve it - those who harass or harm others - that’s a thrill with purpose.
Jaeyun rolls his eyes, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “Are you telling me that seeing Heeseung’s head explode or Dayoung’s neck snap wasn’t entertaining?” His eyebrow arches in challenge, already well aware of how much you enjoyed yourself. No one else in that room had a clue, but Jaeyun knows you too well. He knows the rush you get from this, the thrill of taking control.
When he first met you, he saw it - that sadness buried deep within. He knew how to turn it into something else, something darker but freeing. He twisted your pain into anger, and then into joy, showing you how much fun life could be when you channel your rage outward. He’s been there with you ever since, your partner in every sick trap.
You can’t help but laugh, the memory of the ‘interview’ sending a spark of excitement through you. “Okay, okay,” you admit with a wide grin. “I loved it, especially the crucifix. You didn’t tell me you were going to add that!”
Jaeyun chuckles, leaning in to plant soft kisses along your nose, your cheek, and then your lips, each one a tender reminder of his adoration and pride. “Thought I’d surprise my baby since I know it’s your favourite,” he whispers between kisses. “But seriously, good work on speeding it up, that was clever.”
His praise sends a warm flush to your cheeks, though it’s hidden beneath the dried blood that still clings to your skin. “I remember you teaching me how it works,” you say modestly, still basking in his approval. Then a frown touches your lips, and you pout slightly. “I feel bad for Sunoo though. He was so sweet.”
“Yeah, he was cute,” Jaeyun agrees, shrugging slightly, brushing off the death of yet another innocent. He doesn’t care about people. Not unless it’s you, you are the only one in this world that gets to feel his heart beating.
He reaches down, casually plucking the gun from Jaehyun’s cold hand, inspecting it for a moment before glancing back at you. “C’mon, we should clean up.”
“Or…” your voice drops into a whisper, playful and suggestive as you jump on the table and spread your legs, giving Jayeun a clear signal.
The change in his demeanour is immediate. His eyes darken, trailing over your body with a hungry intensity that makes your pulse race. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, hard enough to show he’s seriously considering your offer. “I always forget how needy you get after a game,” he teases, his voice low and laced with desire as he steps toward you.
He’s right, the rush of excitement and adrenaline always does this. You remember the first time you watched him kill, how it awakened something in you, that desperate need to have him right there and then. The blood dripping from his fingers, the splatter across his face…you’d never seen him look more beautiful.
That’s when it hit you. All those dark romances you devoured, Rina Kent’s books that filled your mind with dangerous fantasies, altered your brain chemistry in ways you hadn’t expected. Maybe that’s why it hadn’t taken long for Jaeyun to pull you into his wicked world.
Or maybe you’re just really fucked in the head.
Jaeyun’s eyes gleam with dark amusement, fully aware of what’s racing through your mind. His confidence radiates as he steps between your legs, his lips hovering inches above yours. “What’s it gonna be, baby?” he whispers, his voice a low, seductive drawl, dripping with intent.
Feigning thoughtfulness, you tilt your head, looking off into the distance as if contemplating his question. But it’s just an act, one he knows too well. You feel the corners of your lips twitch upward before your entire expression shifts. Your eyes lock with his and a smirk etches on your lips as you slowly reach for the gun, your fingers grazing the metal. You bring it to your lips, the weight of it pressing against your mouth.
Jaeyun’s breath hitches and his throat bobs, eyes following your every move with rapt attention. You tilt your head slightly, letting your tongue slip out, brushing over the sleek barrel. The taste of cold steel and blood floods your senses as you drag your tongue teasingly, savouring how his eyes darken with every secondof your display. His gaze is glued to your lips, watching intently as you lick the gun, your lips grazing over the tip, his cock twitching in jealousy.
You open your mouth, taking the barrel between your lips, wrapping them around the gun with a sensual slowness that has Jaeyun’s chest rising and falling faster. The sight of you, so bold, so shameless, has him swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he tries to keep sane and not rip your clothes off right here and now.
His breath becomes ragged, gaze locked on how your lips wrap perfectly around the barrel. You pull back slightly, your tongue flicking over the metal one last time before your lips curl into a wicked smile. “I think I’ve made my choice,” you whisper, voice sultry and teasing.
"Oh yeah? Tell me, baby," Jaeyun murmurs, his smile widening as if he already knows exactly what you’re about to do.
Your hands move with purpose, putting the gun in his hands. Slowly, you guide it down your body, the metal pushing past your main organs, sending shivers through you. The exhaustion from the game still clings to your muscles, a dull ache in your bones, but none of that matters. Not now. Not when the thrill of Jaehyun’s death and the freedom it brings pulses through you.
Plus, all you can think about is Jaeyun - his touch, his heat, and the way his eyes devour every movement you make. His hands tighten their grip on your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he gets worked up in excitement over what is about to happen.
He is so fucking lucky he found you.
As the gun reaches just above your aching heat, The tension between you intensifies, each breath you take beaming with excitement. The gun is more than a weapon in his hands because right now it’s an extension of the fun you’re both going to have.
His gaze flickers back to you, eyes dark with intent as his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants. Without a word, he pulls them to the side, exposing you to the cool air. A shiver runs through you, but it’s not from the chill - it’s from the way Jaeyun looks at you, relishing in every second, every inch of you.
The barrel of the gun slides between your legs, the surface brushing against your heat. The contrast between your warmth and the icy, hard steel is electrifying, making the moment more intense. A low moan slips from your lips, your thighs instinctively parting wider like a silent prayer for more.
Jaeyun leans in, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, “You love this, don’t you?” His words are lustful, knowing exactly how much you crave what’s coming next. His lips graze your earlobe before he pulls back just enough to watch your reaction, the smirk on his face deepening as your chest rises and falls with anticipated breath.
Without another word, he tilts the gun to press gently against your entrance, teasing you. You can’t help the way your body reacts - hips lifting, muscles tightening because you want nothing more than to have this gun shoved deep inside of you. Jaeyun holds you steady, fingers digging into your thigh as he slowly pushes the gun into your cunt.
The metal stretches you, the sensation making you gasp and your body instinctively tensing as you adjust to the intrusion.
The feel is foreign, dangerous, and exhilarating all at once. The weight of the gun inside you is unlike anything else, making you feel a twisted pleasure that only Jaeyun can swirl inside of you. The cold metal slides deeper and a tremor of pleasure ripples through your core.
“Oh god…Jaeyun…” you moan out, hips bucking up to let the pistol slip in deeper.
Jaeyun watches you, eyes locked on the way your body responds to his every movement, his lips parting slightly as he savours every moan, every shiverbhe’s drawing from your perfect body. His control is maddening, slow and deliberate as he moves the gun in and out of you, pushing just deep enough to make you ache for more but never fully giving in.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. His eyes glint with satisfaction as he watches you fall apart under his touch, his thumb brushing against your clit, adding just enough pressure to make your back arch off the table. “No one else could handle this. Could handle me.”
Your mind is hazy, overwhelmed by the feeling of the gun filling you, stretching you, while his thumb expertly circles your swollen clit. Every movement sends a wave of pleasure crashing through you, the tension in your body building as Jaeyun continues his torturous pace.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice dark and possessive. His hand tightens on your thigh, fingers digging into your flesh as he thrusts the gun deeper, the grooves of the gun dragging along your tight walls and you gasp, your body trembling with the intensity of it. The mixture of the gun inside you and his thumb on your clit is almost too much, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re always gonna be mine.”
Hiis smirk widens as he watches the way your trying to fuck yourself on the pistol and match his rhythm. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride and desire. “Look at you, falling apart on my gun.”
The click of the safety being pulled off fills the room, adding a harmony to your moans and the thrill of danger just turned up to 100. There’s something about being on the end of a fully loaded gun, no safety, and your boyfriend’s finger on the trigger that makes you squeeze and suck in the barrel deeper.
It’s reckless, scary, and everything you could ever want.
You’re completely at his mercy now and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your legs begin to rise as you lean back, searching for a deeper angle, which Jaeyun happily gives you, twisting the pistol with each thrust inside of you.
You grip the edge of the table, knuckles white as your body tenses, the heat pooling in your core ready to erupt. Jaeyun’s heart picks up pace as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss. “Cum for me, baby.”
And you do.
The pleasure surges through you like a tidal wave, crashing over every part of your body, leaving you breathless and gasping for air. The combination of the weapon deep inside you and Jaeyun's thumb working expertly against your clit sends you spiralling into a blissful frenzy. You feel the tension coil tightly in your core, your stomach twitching with each pulse of your orgasm.
“That's it,” Jaeyun encourages, his words vibrating through you, adding to the delicious intensity of your release. “Let it go, baby. I want to see you shake for me.”
A cry escapes your lips, a mix of pleasure and relief as you lose yourself completely in the moment. You can’t hold back, not when he’s watching you so intently, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction.
Your back arches off the table, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades into nothing but the pure bliss that consumes you. Every inch of your body tingles, pulsing with the aftershocks of your climax, and all you can think about is Jaeyun and the way he makes you feel - like you’re both powerful and utterly vulnerable at the same time.
As your body starts to settle, Jaeyun doesn’t stop. He maintains his rhythm, thrusting the gun inside you a little faster, a little deeper, as he prolongs your high, milking every last drop of pleasure from you. “Look at you,” he breathes, his voice thick with lust. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come apart like this. Just for me.”
You moan in response, the sound escaping you unbidden as you feel another wave of pleasure cresting, threatening to pull you under once more. Jaeyun’s fingers work tirelessly, teasing your clit, drawing out the remnants of your orgasm as the intensity builds again. The world around you fades further, Jaehyun’s body long forgotten, and it’s just the two of you - lost in your own wicked game.
“God, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration and need. “I can’t get enough of you.” He leans in closer, his lips finding yours, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss that sends sparks flying through your body. You can taste the lingering traces of adrenaline and excitement on his tongue, and it only deepens your desire.
Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pull him closer, desperate for more of him. The gun, once a symbol of your wild game, fades into the background, eclipsed by an undeniable craving for his body. Each thrust blurs the line between pleasure and pain, sending thrilling sensations coursing through you.
“Jaeyun,” you gasp against his lips, your voice barely a whisper, heavy with desperation. “Please…”
He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes darkened with a mix of passion and mischief. “Please what?” he teases, a smirk curling his lips that sends a shiver cascading down your spine.
“More,” you breathe, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer, each syllable thick with longing. “I need more. I want you - your cock, please, give me your cock.” The urgency in your voice is embarrassing as it rises, a fire igniting deep within you. “I need you to fuck me.”
“Is that really how you want it, baby?” His voice is a low growl, sultry and commanding, wrapping around you like a velvet chain, tethering you to him for life. “Beg for it.”
Your breath hitches, excitement flooding your veins as you lock your gaze with his. “Jaeyun, please,” you plead, not even wasting a minute. You need his cock and you need it now. “I can’t get enough of you. I want you to fill me up, ruin me, do whatever you want with me. I’ll do anything - just don’t hold back.”
A wicked grin spreads across his face, and you can see the hunger in his eyes, the way your desperation ignites something primal within him. “That’s what I like to hear,” he growls, his voice thick with lust and possessiveness. “You’re so beautiful when you’re begging.”
With that, he pulls back, putting the gun back on safety and tossing it on the table, it’s work done for the day. His hands fumble with his jeans as he pushes them down along with his boxers, both just sitting at his thighs.
Gripping your hips as he positions himself at your entrance. “Say it again,” he commands, his tone firm yet teasing. “Beg for me to take you.”
“I need you, Jaeyun, fuck,” you cry out, feeling the heat pool low in your belly. “I need you inside me. Please, don’t hold back. I want to feel every inch of you.”
His breath hitches at your words, and with a fierce intensity, he thrusts into you, filling you to the brim, his tip kissing into your cervix straight away. A gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to him, the delicious stretch making your head spin. “God, yes,” you moan, your body arching toward him, urging him to move faster.
Jaeyun grits his teeth, his eyes locked on yours as he begins to thrust, hard and deep. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice thick with desire. “You’re mine, all mine.” Each thrust drives you higher, the heat pooling in your core as he takes you further into ecstasy.
“Jaeyun, yes!” you cry out, your body responding eagerly to his every movement. The thrill of his control, the way he possesses you completely, sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, and you can’t help but beg for more. “Please, don’t stop!”
He responds with a wicked grin, increasing his pace and angling your hips as he drives deeper into you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “That’s it, baby. Let go. I want to hear you scream for me.”
With every powerful buck of his hips, the table rattles, mirroring your trembling form. You can feel the pressure building again, the heat pooling in your belly as you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s drawing from you.
The gun is great, but your man will always be better.
“Cum for me again, baby” he urges, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. “I want to feel you squeeze me.”
With his words echoing in your ears, you surrender completely, spiralling into ecstasy as your body convulses around him. Your scream fills the air, raw and unrestrained, as the world explodes into a kaleidoscope of colours. He’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, and you’re hoping he’ll be the only one from now on.
You love him, every disgusting, brutal, tender, imprefect, beautiful piece of him.
Jaeyun groans in response, his grip tightening on your hips as he feels you clench around him, lost in the moment. “Yes, just like that,” he praises, his voice thick with desire. “You’re fucking perfect.”
As the aftershocks of your climax ripple through you, he doesn’t relent, maintaining his powerful rhythm as he pushes you higher and higher. You can feel yourself teetering on the brink once more, the world fading away as all that matters is the connection between you. His kisses are cleaning up the blood from your face and his hands are massaging your aching bones as he piledrives into you.
He leans down, pressing his lips against your ear, his voice a low growl laced with affection. “You’re doing so well, baby. Just keep letting go.” His words send shivers down your spine, a mixture of dominance and tenderness that makes your heart race.
“Jaeyun,” you moan, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding through you. “I’m yours. I love you so much.”
His grip on your hips becomes almost possessive, yet there’s a warmth in his hold that reassures you. “That’s right,” he whispers, a grin tugging at his lips as he drives deeper, his thrusts growing more urgent, more passionate. “You’re fucking perfect for me. The only one in this world that deserves to live.”
Jaeyun doesn’t know if he believes in love, or if he’s even capable of producing that emotion, but he thinks he found it in you. You’re the only shining light in this shitty world, you’re his everything.
The combination of his strength and the tenderness in his voice makes you feel cherished even as he claims you. You can feel the familiar knot tightening within you, your instincts taking over as you arch your back, pushing against him, begging for everything he has to offer. “Please, Jaeyun! Don’t stop! I’m so close!”
He rewards your eagerness with a low growl, quickening his pace as he drives deeper into you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “Let go, baby. You’ve earned all of this,” he urges you on.
And then, with one last powerful thrust, the pressure within you snaps, and you’re sent tumbling over the edge, your body clenching around him as you cry out in pure ecstasy. Your senses explode, pleasure radiating through every fibre of your being as you shatter around him, the world fading into nothingness.
“Fucking perfect,” Jaeyun breathes, his voice heavy with lust as he follows you into bliss, losing himself in the moment as he releases inside you, filling you up, shots of white rope painting his name all over your cunt. The warmth of him spills, a mark of possession that ignites another spark of ecstasy within you.
As you both ride out the waves of your euphoria, your bodies entwined, you realise this moment is everything - raw, passionate, and undeniably yours.
The intensity of your shared climax begins to fade and you both sink into a comfortable silence, the aftermath of your passionate encounter wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The room, stark and gritty with the remnants of the chaotic scene you just orchestrated, contrasts sharply with the tenderness that unfolds between you and Jaeyun.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes softening as they meet yours. The moment gives way to something sweeter, and his lips curl into a genuine smile. "You okay, baby?" he asks, his voice low and warm, filled with concern even amid the chaos. You know he's asking about more than just the sex.
"I feel perfect. Thank you for letting me do all of this, Jaeyun." You press a soft kiss to his nose, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear, feeling that familiar surge of affection for him.
His smile widens, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. You nuzzle your noses together, sharing a moment of softness that contrasts with the bloody carnage around you. Jaeyun’s fingers brush lightly against your skin, and you lean into his touch instinctively, savouring the warmth before reality creeps back in.
"We really should clean up this mess," he says, his tone suddenly practical as he pulls away, adjusting his clothes. His fingers deftly work the zipper of his pants, yet, his eyes never lose that lingering warmth, the way they stay soft for you, even amid the chaos.
Just as the haze of passion begins to fade, a soft, broken whimper echoes from the other room, making both of you freeze. Your heart jumps as you lock eyes with Jaeyun, confusion flickering between you. Everyone is dead - aren’t they? Who could possibly still be alive?
"Stay close," Jaeyun murmurs, his tone low, protective. His fingers find yours, gripping tight as he picks up the gun and leads you toward the source of the sound. You nod, heart pounding as adrenaline floods your veins once again.
As you step into the room, the sight that greets you is almost surreal. Among the wreckage and ruin, you find Sunoo - alive, but barely. His face is smeared with crimson, blood pumping steadily from the empty socket where his eye once was. His leg, grotesquely amputated, drags uselessly behind him as he weakly attempts to pull himself across the floor. It’s a pitiful sight, one that tugs at something deep inside you.
You weren’t lying when you said you felt bad for him. Sunoo didn’t deserve any of this. He wasn’t like the others - he was sweet, cautious, always thinking before acting. But his so-called friends had dragged him into this nightmare, trying to shame him for his care.
You release Jaeyun’s hand, crouching beside Sunoo’s trembling form. His half-conscious eye flickers up toward you, and you can’t help but throw a sympathetic pout his way as you brush a lock of blood-matted hair from his face. His body trembles as he coughs, the wet sound grating against the silence. You gently lift him, cradling his fragile body to help him sit up.
Behind you, Jaeyun clicks the safety off hisngun, this time not in the thrill of sex but the anticipation of death.
“I’ll make it quick,” he says, his tone nonchalant, like this is just another part of the routine. He wasn’t fazed by Sunoo’s suffering, wasn’t trapped in the same space as you, listening to Sunoo’s whispered pleas, hearing him beg to tell his mother he loved her before he thought he’d die.
The sound of Jaeyun pulling back the pistol’s slide makes you flinch, and without thinking, you wrap your arms protectively around Sunoo’s shaking frame. "No! Don’t," you protest, surprising even yourself with the sudden urgency in your voice.
Jaeyun stops, his brow arching in confusion. “Why not? If we let him live, he’ll just run off and tell the first person he sees.” He shrugs, shifting his grip on the gun. His impatience is palpable now like a man denied his final course after a bloody feast.
"We don’t have to kill him," you murmur, keeping your voice soft but firm, hoping to reach the part of Jaeyun that always listens to you. "Why don’t we keep him?"
Jaeyun’s incredulous chuckle fills the room. "Keep him?" He shakes his head, exasperated. "He’s not a pet, baby. He’s a boy, and a weak one at that. He’s not going to be any use to us."
You feel Sunoo shudder against you, his body convulsing as it fights to stay alive. He’s terrified, and rightly so, but there’s something in you that refuses to let go just yet. You rub small circles into his back, hoping to soothe him, even as your gaze locks with Jaeyun’s, pleading silently.
“He could help us,” you argue, voice soft but insistent. “He’s not like the others. He’s...sensitive.” You hesitate, watching Jaeyun’s expression closely. “No one would ever suspect a sweet boy like him of being involved. He could lure people in for us. Or clean up. He could take care of things while we’re busy.”
Jaeyun’s expression hardens. “Y/N, he’s not going to kill people. He’s not like us. He’s a liability,” he snaps, voice edged with frustration. Jaeyun gets like this when he can’t kill, the same way people do when they’re hungry. He’s starving right now despite the murder three-course meal he’s just devoured, and he is not appreciating the hold-up on dessert.
"Maybe not right away," you concede, "but he could be. He just needs time. We could toughen him up...just like you did for me."
The mention of your own transformation makes Jaeyun pause. His gaze softens slightly as the memory of what you once were flickers in his eyes. He’d seen potential in you, had taken you under his wing when you’d been weak, unsure. You hadn’t let him down. Maybe he could do the same with Sunoo.
You watch as Jaeyun’s expression shifts, a battle waging within him. He doesn’t like the idea of leaving loose ends, of anyone weak in your little circle. But you can see the doubt forming, the way his eyes linger on Sunoo’s frail form.
"Move out of the way," Jaeyun says finally, his voice more tired than angry now.
Sunoo’s remaining eye widens as his thin fingers clutch your shirt, his body jerking in fear. He knows what’s coming, and the thought of dying after surviving this far terrifies him. Tears spill from his eye, the hopelessness so raw it makes your chest tighten.
"No," you whisper, holding Sunoo tighter. Then you look up at Jaeyun with the soft, pleading eyes that have always been his weakness. "Give him a month," you suggest gently. "Let’s see what he’s made of. If he’s no good - if he runs or tries anything - then I’ll kill him myself."
A heavy silence hangs between the three of you, the only sound the soft dripping of blood onto the floor. Finally, Jaeyun lets out a long sigh, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile.
"Okay, baby," he murmurs, lowering the gun. "Anything you want." His tone softens, a warmth slipping back into it. "You know I can’t say no to you, especially when you look so pretty all roughed up like this." His eyes sweep over you, lingering on your blood-splattered face, and there’s something both tender and dangerous in the way he looks at you.
Relief washes over you as Jaeyun finally concedes. He steps forward, his fingers brushing your cheek before he bends down to kiss you, the gesture both possessive and reassuring.
“One month,” Jaeyun adds, his voice playful but tinged with a dark edge. "But if he screws up, if he even thinks about betraying us - you’ll do what you said."
You nod, feeling Sunoo’s trembling body slacken slightly in your arms as hope, fragile as it may be, flickers in his eye. For now, at least, he’s safe.
Jaeyun straightens, holstering his gun with ease. “Come on,” he says, tossing a glance at the carnage around you. "We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do."
PREVIEW ✧ Halloween is approaching the next night, and your best friends have been imploring you to join them since they have been invited to an exclusive event that is known as 'The Devils Night,' which is hosted by the fraternity of devil's knights. You know of them, including their corrupt fraternity, and you know better than to involve yourself with the likes of them after hearing unpleasant things from your peers. In fact, from the day you stepped foot into the university, you had been warned to steer clear of any of the devil's knights, specifically the four prominent individuals. So you heeded the warnings and successfully managed to avoid drawing attention that could possibly intrigue the aforementioned individuals, but little did you know that you have long since caught the attention of the devil's knights leaders.
GENERAL WARNING ✧ mentions of christianity, dramas, profanities, explicit themes, violence, corruption, smuts (smut warning under cut on respective parts)
DISCLAIMER ✧ this fic is inspired by devil's night series written by penelope douglas but with an entirely different plot. all feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated!
