summary: All it takes is one glance at the pretty girl who lives in the apartment across from his for Andrew Cody to become obsessed. But what begins as innocent observation from his window turns into something far more intense.
warnings: +18 MDNI. obsessive behavior, stalking, multiple scenes of male masturbation, themes of shame, reader has type b youngho vibes and andrew is stupidly into it, feminine reader who has hair and wears press on nails, unspecified but implied age gap, reader shares one kiss with a female friend (not super detailed), J pulls your cell phone records as a favor, andrew breaks into your apartment and raids your panty drawer, male masturbation with a vibrator, nipple play, alcohol consumption and mentioned drunkenness, lingerie, exhibitionism on readers part, mutual masturbation, jealousy, bratting/a touch of brat taming, reader tries to make pope jealous with another man, death threats (not to reader or pope), dirty talk, sloppy makeouts, spit swapping, over the clothes nipple sucking, finger sucking, f!use of a vibrator, clit play, rough fingering, unprotected piv, dacryphilia, light angst, insecure pope, reader matches his freak, stalker!reader, forced love confessions, begging, creampie
note: wow ok i think that might be the longest warning i've ever written whoops!! thank u sm to my angel @thykingdoncome for reassuring me through this whole process and taking a lil looksie at this for me love u 4ever
wc: 10.4k
[masterlist] [AO3]
Andrew knows it's weird.
He knows that.
But as long as you don't know he's doing it, what does it hurt?
It's not like he's doing anything weird. He's justâŠwatching you. It almost feels like fate, the way your apartment is positioned directly across from his. There's the courtyard and a pool lying between you, but the windows of his apartment mirror yours so perfectly.
AndâŠyou don't have blinds.
No curtains, no shades. There's not even a half-effort of an old sheet hung up over the glass pane. And at night? When he can't sleep, and the moths circle the flickering porch lights, and you've got those blue or red or purple LED lights onâŠwell.
Pope can see right into your apartment.
Can see you, watching TV on the couch or cooking boxed macaroni in nothing but a loose tank top and a pair of lace underwear.
He thinks you might be the only good thing about the apartment that Smurf forced him into only three days after he was released from prison.
It's been a long time since he's looked at a woman, you know. Longer since he's seen one as pretty as you.
He's not lacking self awareness or anything. Pope knows your open windows and ever changing LEDs aren't an invitation to stare, butâŠsometimes it feels like one.
You fall asleep on the couch most nights. Which is good for him, because Pope can't see into your bedroom.
Some things, he begins to realize, are a sort of chaotic routine.
You tend to fall asleep with your phone in your hand and scramble to find it each morning (it's always under the couch, beneath the hot pink throw pillow you kick off in your sleep).
You don't eat breakfast because you don't wake up early enough to (don't you know it's the most important meal of the day?). Most mornings, you wake up with just enough time to doll yourself up in the bathroom, prioritizing glittery eyeshadow and shimmering lip gloss rather than the sustenance of a bowl of cereal.
He doesn't know what you do for work, but it's something with an inconsistent schedule. You sleep until noon on your days off, which could be any day of the week, Pope learns.
Work doesn't stop you from going out, though. Saturday nights are reserved for those miniskirts and stiletto heels and all your giggling girlfriends who get ready on your living room floor with a hand mirror. You share perfume and makeup and clothes with them before you all climb into a shared uber.
A few times, Andrew finds himself tempted to follow you. He tells himself it's not like he'd be doing it for his own satisfaction. He'd just be doing it to keep an eye on you, that's all. You're a young girl (too young for someone his age). Don't you know there are predators out there?
But he never does. Because that would be weird, right? You don't even know him. ButâŠhe certainly starts to feel like he knows you.
You and your friends always stumble back to your apartment, sometimes falling up the concrete steps to the second floor. One of them will make pizza rolls or messy peanut butter sandwiches and you'll pass around cold bottles of water and spill electrolyte drink mixes on the kitchen counter.
You'll share your things with them even after the club, selfless girl. Passing out hair ties and makeup removing wipes and big t-shirts for them to sleep in. On one particular night, when most of them are passed out on the couch, legs and arms tangled together, Pope even watches you you share a kiss with one of them under pink LEDs.
That night, Andrew has to force his attention away. It feels way too close to the beginning of that porno Craig left open on the family computer years ago.
But this doesn't feel erotic. Watching your mouth move against someone else's doesn't elicit any warmth beneath the fabric of his jeans.
No, it makes Andrew...upset. Angry, even.
It makes him jealous.
He tries not to think about it again. Tries even harder (and fails, repeatedly) to give you some privacy on Saturday nights.
But SundaysâŠSundays are sacred.
Both for you and for him.
So much so that he pulls out on a job when his brothers plan it for a Sunday. Tells them he has to check in with his parole officer that day. Lies to their faces, because he doesn't want to miss out on you.
Because every Sunday, without fail, Andrew gets to see you naked.
You start by cleaning your apartment. Wiping down the counters and vacuuming the carpet and dusting the top of the cabinets. Then you light the candle on the coffee table (pink champagne, he's pretty sure, after looking endlessly online to match up the glass container. Twenty six dollars. Four day shipping. Currently sitting unlit on his nightstand).
And when you're ready, you strip off all your clothes and discard them in the bathroom.
You put oil in your hair and nineties R&B on your bluetooth speaker. You paint your toes (usually white or black, occasionally an electric blue) and glue artificial nails with sparkling gems onto your fingers.
Sunday showers are the longest, Pope knows. Sometimes thirty minutes. And when you emerge from the bathroom, steam rolls out from the open door and you've got your hair wrapped up in a towel. You balance yourself with a foot on the edge of the couch and massage lotion into your skin first.
From top to bottom, moisturizing your entire body. And then you repeat the motion with an oil, and it's during this particular step that Andrew starts feeling a little lightheaded.
He'd bet you feel all smooth and soft and smell so fucking good. Maybe like vanilla or cherry or coconut. And, god. He wants to touch you. He wants to touch himself.
But he resists.
The first three times, anyway.
By the fourth Sunday, thoughâŠwell. His cock gets so fucking hard in his jeans that it's leaking. Making a big fucking mess in his boxers. It hurts, you know?
And it's not like you'll know he's doing it. He's had a little over a month to perfect his setupâlights off, chair angled perfectly so if anyone glanced into his apartment they'd have to really look in order to see him.
So, he takes his cock in his hand and imagines it's your delicate fingers wrapped around him instead. Imagines it's his hands rubbing oil into your shoulders, over the swell of your breasts, pressing into your hips, squeezing at the supple flesh of your thighs.
He'd make sure to do it just how you like. And Pope wouldn't need to be told how to, either. Because he's spent so much time watching you now that he would just know.
He wonders if your head would fall back, wet hair clinging to your slick skin. He wonders if he pressed just right into that tender spot at the small of your back that you're always so gentle with if you'd moan or whine or whimper. Maybe even say his name.
Andrew cums at the thought alone, grunting low, lips parted, his release spilling over his hand and down the hard length of his cock.
The shame doesn't take hold of him for a while.
Not until later that night, when your hair is blow dried and you're dressed in a pretty silk pajama set. You've got some trashy reality show on the TV, and you're eating the pizza you had delivered right out of the box.
Andrew takes the moment to clean himself up. To change out of his clothes and into something more comfortable. He brushes his teeth and climbs in bed, but lays with his head propped up by an extra pillow so he can still see clearly out of his window.
He knows it's weird. He knows he shouldn't be staring at a naked girl who's probably half his age and doesn't know there's some fucking creep across the courtyard who watches her every fucking day. He knows he shouldn't be fucking his fist watching you put lotion on your skin. He knows he shouldn't be changing his plans with family or friends around your schedule, just so he can watch you a little longer.
He knows he should stop.
The problem, however, lies in the wanting.
Andrew's never had much. Not when it comes to women. But youâŠgod. You're so beautiful, and so pure and so different from anything he's ever seen. You don't belong to anyone but yourself, and once he sees you, he finds it impossible to look away.
Things change late one Friday night.
Andrew gets sloppy. He gets comfortable, here in this routine he's created around you.
There's music coming from your apartment, some electronic pop ballad that's at a volume so loud he can hear it from across the courtyard (there will be complaints to the office manager tomorrow morning, he knows. But you don't have to worry. Pope will take care of it for you, baby. He'll make sure you can keep having your fun).
You're wearing just a lacy bra and a pair of linen sleep shorts. There's a seltzer in your hand, and you're singing and dancing like you've somehow summoned all the energy from the club right there in your apartment.
It's a beautiful sight, truly. You're so happy and carefree. The warmest ray of sunshine that he wants to find himself basking under.
Andrew gets comfortable, posture relaxing in the chair that now lives permanently in front of his window. He watches you dance around your apartment, the easy smile on your face reflected back on his own.
He thinks he could really take care of you. Keep you safe. Protect all that girlish whimsy that lives in your heart. He'd make you real happy, Andrew thinks. Would watch you dance with your friends at the club, leaning against the bar. He'd take you shopping and add more of those short dresses into your closet. He'd make you breakfast in the mornings before work and Christâhe'd buy you a set of fucking curtains.
Pope is so lost in the fantasy of it that he doesn't register in time that your dancing has slowed. And you've put your seltzer down on the coffee table.
And you're staring right back at him.
His heart kicks up, pounding against his chest. He knows he should move out of sight, shut his blinds, pass this off as a mistake, maybe even pretend he hadn't seen you.
But he doesn't do any of that.
He's frozen in time, terrified and exhilarated all at once by simply being perceived by you.
Pope justâŠstares.
It seems to be the only fucking thing he's capable of these days.
He expects you to flip him off or maybe come barreling out of the door and across the courtyard to confront him. Or maybe you'll scurry away into your room. Maybe you'll order a set of curtains online.
But you don't do any of that.
You just stare right back.
Andrew tilts his head curiously. It's an involuntary movement.
In the end, you're the first to look away. You pick up your seltzer, dump it down the drain in the kitchen, and then disappear into the bathroom to brush your teeth.
Your routine remains the exact same. You find your phone beneath the throw blanket on the couch and turn off the TV. You turn the kitchen light off and turn on the light above the stove instead. You grab a water bottle from the fridge, and then go to bed in your room.
It's not rushed, and you don't seem nervous or fearful that there's someone watching you.
And Andrew thinks to himself, see. This is why you need him. This is why you need someone looking out for you. Don't you know how dangerous he could be?
He would never hurt you, Andrew knows. But you don't know that.
He doesn't sleep that night. He doesn't sleep often as it is, but his mind is running too fast. Cataloguing all the potential scenarios in which you cut off all access he has to you, severing the comfort he finds in his new favorite, voyeuristic hobby.
And Andrew wouldn'tâcouldn'tâblame you for it. He thinks that's what you should do.
You don't.
The following morning, your routine changes.
On the nights you fall asleep in your bed, you're usually dressed in a pair of jeans with gems decorating the pockets and a low-cut top by the time you emerge from your room.
But not this time.
No, this time you're still wearing the same clothes you'd fallen asleep in. A lacy bra and cotton shorts.
Andrew watches, freshly emerged from the quickest shower of his life, hair still wet, as you stand in front of the fridge to find the fizzy energy drink you'd brought home with you last night.
He watches you struggle for a moment to crack the seal open (Those pretty nails of yours. He could help you with that, you know). You take a slow sip, put the aluminum can down on the counter, and turn your head just enough to let Pope know you see him.
You know he's there, in the window. You know he's watching.
And then, painfully slow, you drag your shorts down your thighs. The fabric pools at your feet, and Pope loses all train of thought.
Because this is no accident. You want this. You want him to watch you.
Your bra is next. You reach around to unclasp it and soon after the lace joins the linen fabric on the linoleum floor.
Warmth blooms beneath his skin as he watches you press your hands to your abdomen, feeling your skin, running your hands up your chest and over the swell of your breasts.
You try and play it off like a stretch, lifting your arms above your head and arching your back.
Andrew knows it's not.
You get ready the rest of the morning like normal. And AndrewâŠGod. He doesn't know what to think.
He knows he should stop this before it goes too far. He thinks it already has.
It'sâŠit's weird, right?
Everything about it is wrong.
He doesn't want to stop, but he knows he should.
He tries, though. For what little it's worth.
Tries to busy himself building a fountain at Smurf's. Tries to find small jobs he can do himself to pass the time. He still thinks about you all hours of the day, though. Like a thorn stuck beneath his skin, aching when he moves just the wrong way.
He overhears Nicky explaining to Deran what an 'everything shower' is and thinks about your Sunday ritual. He walks into a hungover Craig making boxed macaroni in his boxers and thinks of you. Smurf lights a candle called pink cashmere and even though it's not pink champagne, it still makes him think of you.
The pretty little girl in the apartment across from his, who he finds himself certifiably, insanely, obsessed with.
One Thursday afternoon, Andrew returns home earlier than he'd planned. He tells himself he just wants to get a little glance.
Just one look. You know, to soothe the ache the thought of you brings. To see if maybe he imagined the weight of your stare.
What he finds, though, is somehow more concerning.
You're pacing your living room, cell phone pressed to your ear, still wearing jeans and your sneakers. There's tension in your shoulders and even though he can't hear the conversation you're having with the person on the other end of the phone, he can see that you're shouting.
It drags on for the better half of an hour. The pacing, the frustrated hand waving, the pinching of the bridge of your nose. Whatever it is, Andrew bets he could help with it.
He hates seeing you stressed. Thinks you should be living your fun, carefree life like normal. You shouldn't be burdened withâŠwhatever it is that's got you so upset.
But it's not like he can go over and just ask.
So, he chooses a different path instead.
Gets the key to the office of the apartment complex from Smurf. Rummages through the paper files until he finds the lease contract linked to your apartment number.
Andrew thinks he should've done this weeks ago. He learns an awful lot about you this way. Like your name, which he begins to recite like a mantra in his head. He learns your birthday and, regretfully, your age.
But, most importantly, he discovers (and memorizes) your phone number.
And that same day, he returns to Smurf's with a torn piece of paper with the digits scribbled on it. He hands it to his nephew and says, "Need you to get a few phone call records. Can you do that for me?"
J furrows his brows in confusion. "Who's number?"
Pope shrugs. "No one," he lies. "Can you get the records or not?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, probably. Anything specific you're looking for?"
"I wanna know about a call that happened today. Around two or so. Lasted almost an hour. Just get me the number of whoever was on the other line."
J hesitates for a single moment, and then nods slowly. "Alright. I'll get back to you on it."
In the meantime, Andrew spirals.
The thought of you having a boyfriend never really crossed his mind until now. You don't really have men over. Just your girl friends.
But there are some Saturday nights you don't come home, stumbling in early Sunday morning instead with sunglasses on and your hair a mess. So, Pope thinks you very well could have a boyfriend and he never would've known it.
Pope tells himself if it is a boyfriend, he won'tâŠhe won't do anything. It's not his place to make decisions for you, right?
Still. You shouldn't let a man stress you out so much. Whoever it is, they're not worth it. You deserve better. You deserve more.
You deserve someone who knows you.
Less than two hours later, Pope gets a phone call from J, who explains that the person on the other end of that phone call wasn't a person at all.
It was your phone company.
Your stupid fucking service provider who just so happened to put an extra two hundred dollar fee on your bill this month, claiming data overages.
All that stress wasn't over a boyfriend. It was over money.
And money is something Andrew can provide.
He waits until you leave for work, locking up tight behind you. But that doesn't matter, not now. Andrew has a key to the office, which means he has access to the spare key to your apartment.
He is fully aware that he shouldn't be doing this, but ten minutes after you leave he unlocks the door and steps inside anyway.
Your apartment smells sweet. Like sugar and citrus. He wonders if you smell the same way, and the thought alone makes Andrew's mouth water.
He moves slowly into your space, fingers tracing over the TV stand, feeling the wood beneath his calloused fingertips. He straightens the crooked throw pillow on the couch and puts the lighter for your candle back into the tray on the coffee table.
Andrew knows he should justâŠleave the cash and go. He shouldn't be snooping around, invading your privacy.
But you left a knife point-side up in the strainer in the sink. And you could get hurt doing something like that.
And once he's already in the kitchen, turning the knife over so the sharp edge is down, wellâŠwhat will it hurt if he opens a couple of drawers?
None of your silverware matches. Andrew finds this little fact sort of endearing. Messy and chaotic in the same way you are, but that's okay. Maybe he can fix that for you one day, too.
Your bathroom is cluttered. There's makeup products littering the porcelain sink and the cabinet mirror is left wide open. Andrew picks up a few different products to read the labels and finds lip liners and leave-in conditioners and powdered blush with pilled pigment on the counter.
He finds that lotion you're always using on Sundays and opens the lid. Andrew brings the container to his nose, inhales deeply, and feels suddenly too hot.
The scent of it is sweet, like you. There's notes of syrupy amber and warm florals and it has the muscles in his abdomen squeezing tight as he thinks about how potent the scent would be if he were between your legs, freshly oiled, calves resting on his shoulders as he licks and sucks at your clit.
His cock has been half hard since the moment he stepped foot in your apartment, but by the time he makes it to your bedroom?
Pope is aching.
Your clothes are strewn all over. There's t-shirts on the floor and jeans inside out near the hamper and a dress you'd worn two weekends ago lying on the edge of your unmade bed.
It smells like you in here, too. Even more so. There's less perfume, but Andrew swears he can smell the scent of your skin. Sweet and intoxicating, sending sparks of arousal straight to his groin.
Your bedside table has a lamp on it and three half-empty bottles of water. There's one drawer, and he pries it open and gives a slow exhale to see all the silk and lace inside.
Going through your underwear drawer is, quite literally, the very last thing someone like Andrew Cody should be doing.
He does it anyway.
Rummages around until he finds that little black pair you like to sleep in. He runs his fingers over the lace band, feeling the softness beneath the rough pad of his thumb. His cock is throbbing, even before he brings the fabric to his nose and inhales the scent of laundry detergent and faint mahogany from the nightstand andâthere. The scent of you.
As close as he can get.
As close as he'll probably ever get.
He needs to leave. Andrew is painfully aware that this is crossing a line of a whole new degree. Levels above simply watching.
This is obsession. This is addiction. Sick and twisted and perverted.
Andrew does not leave.
He climbs into your bed instead. Kicks off his boots and discards his hoodie until he's in nothing but his jeans. He slips beneath your sheetsâsatin, and pink, and filled with the scent of your shampoo and your skin andâfuck.
His cock is leaking by the time he undoes his belt. Andrew reaches beneath your blankets and shoves his jeans down just enough to free himself.
And it's almost enough to blow his load right fucking there, when the underside of his heavy length brushes against the fabric of your sheets. It's almost too much, being in your room, in your bed, breathing in your scent.
But he resists. Grits his teeth and takes his cock in one hand and uses the other to wrap the soft fabric of your underwear around his aching length.
This time, there's nothing slow about the way he strokes himself to the thought of you. He's desperate for it. Release already clouds the edges of his mind and he needs the relief it'll provide.
His brain feels hazy and his vision blurs, just thinking about you, lying here, hand between your legs. He wonders how you touch yourself, if you just play with your clit or if you fuck yourself on your fingers.
The thought crosses his mind that you might be using more than just your hand, and Pope finds himself sitting up. He leans over the edge of your bed and sticks his hand back into your panty drawer, reaching to the very bottom, feeling around until the tips of his fingers brush over silicone.
His heart is beating fast.
It's a small thing. Pink, of course. With only a small, almost hidden power button.
Pope leans back in your pillows and turns the little vibrator on. It buzzes to life in his hand, and when he pushes the button again, the intensity ratchets even higher.
There's only three settings. He turns it to the highest one and imagines holding it against your swollen clit. He imagines you lying under him, thighs around his waist, hips bucking wildly, chasing the vibration that he gives and gives and then takes away.
He turns so he's lying face down in your sheets now, nose pressed into your pillow. Pope puts the vibrator between his cock and the soft expanse of his abdomen, and he feels the sensation everywhere.
He's still got your underwear wrapped around his cock, and he gives a tentative roll of his hips against the mattress.
The groan he lets out is guttural. With his eyes closed, he can imagine its not your panties he's fucking but you. The tight, wet cunt between your legs. He can imagine it's the curve of your throat he's got his nose buried in and not your pillow. He can imagine that sweet, intense vibration is reverberating through your pelvic bone, little toy pressed hard against your clit.
Pope tells himself he'd make it so fucking good for you. He'd bury his cock so deep you'd never forget the weight of it inside you. He'd whisper how beautiful you are in your ear and make you look him in the eyes while he watches you cum over and over and over.
His release isâŠembarrassingly fast.
A few rolls of his hips against your mattress and he's cumming into the lace fabric of your panties, the vibration of the toy milking him until he's so overstimulated it almost hurts.
Pope rolls over, turns the toy off, and buries it back in the bottom of your drawer. He gives himself a few more moments to gather himself. To catch his breath, to wipe himself clean (never mind the couple of drops that now stain your satin sheets. That could be from anything, right?).
He tucks himself back into his jeans, pulls on his boots and his hoodie, and tosses your underwear in the pile of clothes next to the laundry bin.
There's a pair of your jeans in the middle of the floor, away from the rest. One leg of the denim is inside out. Pope takes the cash from his wallet and tucks it into the pocket, leaving out just enough that he knows you'll notice it.
He leaves.
Locks the door behind him with the spare key.
Makes it halfway across the courtyard before he doubles back, lets himself back into your apartment and into the bathroom where he pockets one of the many different chapsticks on the sink.
It isn't until he's home, tucked safe back in his own apartment, that he realizes it's strawberries and cream flavored.
Andrew puts it on, swiping the transparent petroleum over his lips. He tells himself it's almost like kissing.
Later that day, Craig calls a family meeting. But you've just gotten home, and he knows you'll find the cash within a few minutes when you go to change out of your clothes.
So Andrew waits at the bottom of the stairs on his side of the courtyard. He can't see into your apartment from here, though. And he decides he'll only wait for thirty minutes.
He responds to text messages and opens his blank, photo-less Instagram (that he definitely didn't make only to look at your profile. The one filled with selfies under neon lights and bikini photos on the beach and mirror pictures in the dressing room at that one boutique in the mall).
Twenty nine minutes later, he hears an apartment door slam shut and looks up to see you.
You've got your bag over one shoulder and a grin on your face and the cash in your hand. Enough to cover the additional charges and a little extra, too.
You notice him at the bottom of the cement stairs and freeze, but you don't lookâŠscared, like he expects. Maybe a little startled at first, but the tension bleeds from your face the moment you recognize him.
He should say something. Talk to you. Apologize, maybe, for staring at you.
But Andrew isn't sorry.
And he's never really been good at talking, anyway.
You tilt your head and give him the sweetest fucking smile he's ever seen. It's somehow innocent and knowing at the same time, and Andrew feels the corners of his mouth lifting in response.
Something passes silently between you. An understanding, maybe. You know he watches you, and he knows you know, butâŠyou don't stop him. You just let it happen.
You smile at him from fifteen feet away.
And then you turn to leave, no doubt making your way to pay off that stupid bill that caused you so much unrest.
Pope watches you go, like always.
But this time, you glance back at him over your shoulder withâŠsomething lingering in your pretty eyes. Excitement, maybe. He can't be sure.
He needs to get closer.
During the family meeting, he isn't very present. His mind is so far away, stuck on you, that he just blindly agrees to whatever job they're doing next and trusts that it'll all work out.
When he returns to his apartment, there's a note stuck to his door.
A pink sticky note with nothing but a phone number and a heart with an arrow through it scribbled on the paper.
Your phone number, Pope knows.
He knows he shouldn't text you.
It's stupid and dangerous and god, you really shouldn't be giving your number to random men. He could be a creep. He could be a stalker or something.
His message just says,
Hello.
Your response is immediate, with no capitalization which seems quiteâŠfitting for you. He finds it strangely endearing.
hey
are u the guy from apt 212 ???
Pope can feel that this is a bad idea already. But he's already here, and there's no going back now, is there? He doesn't want to hurt your feelings. He doesn't want to leave you on read and make you think he's not interested when the problem is the exact opposite.
Yes.
The typing bubble pops up, disappears, and appears again three different times before you send another message.
im gonna be home in like an hr
will u be watching ???
Always, he wants to say. Fucking always. He can't take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tries. No matter how shameful it feels.
Andrew's hands shake as he types out a response.
Do you want me to be?
No hesitation this time. Your message comes through a second later.
uhmmm tbh yeah <3
He exhales a long breath. It doesn't feel real. Like he's imagining the entire thing. How could he not be? Why on earth would the sweetest, prettiest little thing want someone to watch her?
But the weight of his cell phone in his hand is real.
And the text message is real.
And thisâŠthis is real.
Then yes. I will be.
You don't reply, and Andrew's heart flutters in his chest as he takes his practiced position in the chair in front of his window and waits.
True to your word, you're skipping up the steps fifty three minutes after the last message is sent. You turn on those LEDs and and move about your apartment like normal, kicking off your sneakers and dropping your bag by the door. You change out of your clothes and put on a worn in t-shirt that's two sizes too big for you, but underneathâŠ
Pope can see the sheer thigh highs you wear and the black, lace edge of them. He can see those strappy garters attached to them, but nothing else. The straps disappear beneath your shirt, leaving him wanting for more.
You're teasing him, Pope realizes.
He watches with bated breath as you lay on the couch, getting comfortable with the throw pillow against the arm.
And then, for the first time, Andrew watches you touch yourself.
You start slowly, hands roaming over your body, on top of the fabric, massaging gently at the inside of your thighs.
His cock's always hard watching you, truth be told. But thisâŠ
His skin feels hot. His lungs feel tight.
Your fingers curl around the edge of your t-shirt, and you pull it over your head to discard it on the floor.
Andrew hasn't seen you wear this set before, not even on those sacred Sundays.
It's pretty. Matching black lace. The bra is low cut and pushes your breasts up your chest, the soft flesh swelling over the top. The waistband of the matching panties is decorated in shining silver gems, laying so perfectly against your hips that he feels dizzy just looking at it.
The prettiest package, just begging to be unraveled by his big, mean hands.
You dressed up for him.
You dressed up for him.
Your hands start to move again, palming your breasts, pulling the lace down until they spill out of the top. Your nipples are so pretty that his mouth waters. He wants to kiss them, to feel the shape of them under his tongue. He wants to kneel over top of you and jerk himself off until they're covered in his sticky white release.
You squeeze your breasts until your nipples form pretty little peaks, and then your hands slide lower. Over your abdomen, and your hips, and then your thighs. You bring them slowly back up, only to slide them over the lace fabric of your panties, right down the center of your cunt.
Andrew thinks he could die.
He could fucking die, just looking at you.
Carefully, you unbuckle the chrome latch of your garter. The left side first, and then the right quickly follows. You leave the lace belt on, but hook your thumbs around the bedazzled lace of your panties and pull them down your thighs painfully slowly.
Your knees fall apart.
Pope swallows hard.
He can see everything from here. The seam of your thighs that he's dreamt about. The pretty shape of your pussy. The wetness that's gathered between your folds, slick and shiny with arousal. With want.
For him. It's for him.
His cock throbs so hard it hurts.
Pope doesn't touch himself. He can't. Can he? All you asked of him was that he watched.
That's what you wanted.
But wouldn't it be better if he was there? Wouldn't it be better if he could touch you, if he could taste you, if he could fuck you?
All you'd have to do is let him in.
Your fingers stroke gently over your clit in small circles, and he watches in awe as your lips part and your spine bends.
He can't hear your moans but god does he wish he could. Thinks about putting a little microphone in your lampshade the next time he sneaks into your apartment.
Your fingers drift lower, over your center, and slowly press inside.
Pope wants it to be him so fucking bad.
If not his cock inside you then his fingers. They're bigger. Longer. Thicker. They'd please you more. Reach places your fingers can't.
Maybe his tongue. He'd drink you right from the fucking source and cum in his jeans, probably. But he'd make sure to find that sweet, velvety spot inside you first and he'd spell his full fucking name over it with a pointed tongue.
Silly girl. Don't you know what he could do for you? Don't you know what he could do to you?
Pope squeezes the bulge in his jeans to try and alleviate the pain of his lust.
You fuck yourself with your fingers, stuffing in one and then two and then three, stretching yourself on them, slick dripping down the seam of your cunt. Your back arches when your free hand finds your clit, and he knows you're close.
He knows he shouldn't, but he searches frantically for his phone anyway and sends another text message.
I want to hear you.
You pause only long enough to grab your phone off the coffee table, read the text, and lay your phone on the arm of the couch behind you.
Pope's phone buzzes in his hand.
You're calling him.
He answers on the first ring, and the sounds that greet him are so erotic it steals the breath from his lungs.
You sound so pretty. So sweet and feminine, everything he's imagined yet somehow so, so much more. He's sure you can hear his heavy breaths on the other end of the phone, but Pope can't find it in himself to care. Can't think of much else besides the way you whimper and the sight of your fingers stuffed inside you.
"Oh, godâ"
His inhale is shaky.
"I'm gonna cum," you choke out, words hazy with your moans. "I'm so close, I'm so fuckingâhmm. Yes. What's your name?"
He almost doesn't hear you, so lost in the sight before him. Immersed in the euphoria of it. But then he says, voice a low, uncertain whisper, "Andrew."
Your spine bends and the fingers on your clit slow. "Oh my god. Fuck, AndrewâI'm cumming, I'mâyes, yesâgod."
His cock twitches and when he tries to soothe it with another tight squeeze, he sends himself careening off the precipice of release instead. His head falls back and his once heavy breaths get stuck in his lungs. Pope rubs himself over his jeans, making a sticky, hot mess in his boxers, generating what little friction he can.
He watches you come down in real time. Not his dreams, not his imagination. He watches it happen. Watches that fucked-out, hazy look cross your face. Watches the tension in your muscles melt away, wishing he could kiss the junction of your throat.
Pope wishes he could worship you. Wishes he could clean you up and put on that trashy reality show you like and hold you against his chest, comforting you while your brain comes back to earth.
Instead, you lean up. Grab your phone and press it to your ear, staring right at him through his wide open window.
He doesn't know what he expects you to say, but it's certainly not, "Have you been inside my apartment, Andrew?"
For a second, he thinks about lying. Because there's no way you know, right? Not for sure. It's not like you have cameras or anything (he knows, because he checked).
But he doesn't want to lie. Not to you.
"IâŠmight have been. Once, yes."
"Did you steal my chapstick?"
"You have ten of them."
He hears your laugh for the first time, and the sound is like sunlight in his chest. "You took the best flavor."
"I'mâŠI'm sorry. I'll return it."
"Keep it. I already got a new one," you say. "Cost me five hundred dollars, though."
So, you know it was him who left the cash, too.
Smart, pretty girl.
He doesn't say anything, too afraid he'll say something stupid or awkward the way he usually does. He doesn't want to ruin this moment. This absolutely perfect moment.
You smile at him, kiss your palm, and blow it towards your window. "Goodnight, Andrew."
He feels his face heat. "Goodnight."
Pope rides the high of it for days.
Can't shake the sight of you open and bare for him. Can't stop thinking about the sound of your moans or the way you'd said his name in the peak of euphoria. He fucks his first to the thought of it more times than he can count.
And Andrew's never been a really sexual person. Not unless it's with someone he loves.
But is that what this is? Love?
You've never met. Not really, not properly. How could it be something so intense? You don't know him. You don't know who he is or what he does. You don't know how he's hurt and maimed and killed.
Would you be afraid, finding out? Would you run to the police if you knew? Would you recoil away from him with terror in your eyes?
All things left unsaid. All things that may, very well, never be said.
Pope feels so uncertain with all of this that he finds himself resorting to fucking google, even. Search history littered with questions and Reddit threads that never provide any real clarity.
Define love.
Define obsession.
How to know if you're in love?
How to ask a girl out?
How to get over a girl.
Define voyeur.
Define fetish.
How big of an age gap is too big?
Apartments for sale on the east coast.
Pink champagne candle.
Strawberries and cream chapstick bulk pack.
You text him again a week after your exhibitionistic display.
do u wanna like go out sometime?? been thinking about u a lot
He's at Smurf's when he reads the message.
Pope doesn't even realize he's smiling until Deran slides a beer across the counter at him and asks, "What's got you all happy today?"
And Pope just shakes his head. Schools his features back into neutrality and says, "Nothing. Just won a bet."
He can tell his brother doesn't believe him, not even for a second. But thankfully, Deran doesn't push any further. He lets the subject go, but the question stays stuck in Andrew's head for hours.
It takes him a while to decide on a response. It's honest, andâŠmostly true.
We shouldn't. I'm a lot older than you.
Your response is a single, painful letter.
k
He doesn't respond to try his hand at damage control, even though he wants to. It's probably better this way, he thinks. Better that there's some distance between you. Better that you hate him and see him as the creepy neighbor he is.
But that Saturday night, when you return home, it's not with your friends.
Pope watches from his window as you guide a man up the stairs and into your apartment.
He's tall. Dark haired, with bright eyes and white teeth and a good smile. Closer to your age. Handsome like a man allowed into your space should be.
You're fumbling a little with your apartment key and Pope watches as the man stands behind you and slides his hands down the back of your thighs.
Thighs he should be touching. Thighs he's watched for months. Thighs that spread for him, long before this fucking loser ever laid his eyes on you.
He tells himself he won't interfere.
You're your own woman. You deserve to feel good, even if it's withâŠsomeone else.
And Pope knows he's just going to have to get the fuck over it.
He did it to himself, really.
He should look away.
But he watches instead.
Watches the two of you fall onto the couch. Watches another man kiss down the column of your throat and squeeze the supple curve of your ass over your sequined dress.
Your eyes find his from across the courtyard, and Pope's jaw clenches.
Putting on another show for him. Filthy, filthy girl.
And you're just going to give it to some random man? Someone who doesn't know you like Pope does? Someone who doesn't know how you like to be touched?
He needs to look away. Close his own fucking blinds for once.
But he feels frozen. Knowing this time, you're watching him. Looking for him. Goading for a reaction.
Pope watches the slow ascent of the man's hand. Promises himself he won't interfere. He'll just watch to make sure you're safe, that's all.
But the moment that greedy hand disappears beneath your dress, Andrew's moving. Throwing open his door and slamming it closed behind him. He crosses the courtyard and takes the steps two at a time.
His fist against your apartment door is incessant. He doesn't stop, even when he hears the uttered, male voice ask, "Who is that?"
When the door opens, it's you who stands in front of him, chin tilted up as you stare at him, pupils flared wide.
The man you'd brought home with you hovers over your shoulder.
Pope doesn't even look at him. He stares only at you as he says, a little snarl in his voice, "Tell him to leave."
"Dude, what the fuck? Who is this guy?"
Your lips curl at the corners. A devilish little smile. "Okay," you say, nodding, your voice soft and pliant. You turn your head to look at the man who stands behind you. "Sorry, but you've gotta go."
"You're joking," he responds flatly. "You said I couldâ!"
Andrew reaches past you and takes him by the collar, pulling him out of your apartment and slamming him up against the paneled siding. "I ever see you in this apartment again, I'll fucking kill you. You understand me?"
"Jesus fuckingâyeah, okay. Alright. Sorry."
Pope isn't joking. Doesn't say it to scare him off but rather as a warning.
He lets him go and watches him scramble down the stairs. He doesn't turn back to face you until the little tool you used for attention gets in his car and drives away.
And when he does finally turn back to youâŠChrist. Your eyes are half lidded and full of lust. Pope's close enough this time that there's no mistaking it.
He should be a gentleman. Should take you out first. Bring you home and kiss you on your doorstep and leave you untouched.
He knows he should.
What he does instead is curl his hand around the back of your neck and pull you to him. He leans down, mouth hovering over yours, breathing in your panicky exhales. "This what you want?"
Your grin is immediate and undeniable. You nod and breathe out the word, "Please."
Andrew kisses you hard, crowding you back into your apartment. He kicks the door closed behind him and slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting you and groaning at the sweetness. There's mint and strawberry and you, his favorite flavor.
He feels drunk on it. On the taste of your tongue, the glide of your wet lips over his, the way your hands scramble and tug desperately at his belt.
"Fuck," he sighs, pulling back just enough to see you. "Open your mouth, baby. Wide. And stick out your tongue."
The way you immediately obey has his cock twitching. Good girl. So fucking good for him when he gives you exactly what you need.
Andrew licks the flat of your tongue once, delighting in the way you whimper in response, before bringing his hand to your mouth. He slides two fingers behind your teeth and orders, "Suck."
You do, lips closing tight around the digits, wet tongue swirling over his thick knuckles. He pushes them further down your throat, your eyes locked on his as he makes you choke on them.
"So fucking pretty," he tells you. "You always look so pretty."
Andrew pulls the straps of your mini dress over your shoulders, roughly tugging the fabric over your chest down to expose your breasts.
You're wearing the same lace bra you'd worn when you dressed up for him, he realizes. He can see the peaks of your nipples through the semi-sheer fabric, and leans down to lock his lips around the left one over the lace.
The fabric is rough beneath his tongue, a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. He sucks hard, spreading the wetness of his saliva over the lace. You push your dress further down your waist and over your hips.
Andrew slides his fingers out of your mouth, sticky and dripping with your spit. He brings them to his own lips instead and sucks them clean, watching your breath hitch and your eyes grow impossibly more hazy.
He lowers himself to his knees before you and his slick fingers work quickly at the straps of your heels, unbuckling them to free your pretty, white-painted toes.
Your hands find his shoulders for balance. "I like that you watch me," you tell him. "I think about it sometimes and it makes me soâŠgod, Andrew. It gets me so wet."
He looks up at you from his knees, big brown eyes glassy and full of adoration. "Good," he says. "'Cause I'm gonna watch you a little closer tonight."
That pretty smile finds its way to your face again.
Andrew presses a sweet, chaste kiss to the apex of your thighs. Over your panties, right where he knows your clit lies beneath. He then stands to his feet, towering over you now without the added height of your heels, and presses you forward.
You take a careful step back, nearly losing your balance.
Andrew grins, taking another step, crowding you back towards your bedroom. He doesn't stop until the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress.
You stumble backwards, falling into the plush sheets that he's all too familiar with. Lying on your back, propped up by your elbows, you stare up at him with wide eyes and he's reminded of a timid little animal caught in the trap of a predator.
Don't you know how dangerous he could be?
You don't look afraid. You actually lookâŠeager.
Pope stands tall at the edge of your mattress. "Take off your clothes."
You do. Unclasping your bra first, tossing the fabric into the already existing mess on the floor. And then your panties follow, thumbs hooking around the fabric to drag it down your legs.
Andrew reaches around and fists the collar of his shirt, tugging it over his head. He feels warm all over, watching you greedily drink up the sight of him. He thinks he'd feel a little nervous, in any other setting. If it were anyone but you.
His sweet, filthy girl.
Andrew reaches into the half-open drawer of your nightstand, searching until he finds your vibrator again.
Your brows furrow as you watch him find it with practiced ease. "You went through my underwear drawer, too?"
"Did more than that," he admits.
You inhale like you're going to speak again, but the words melt to nothing when he tosses the small toy onto the bed beside you.
"Use it," Pope orders.
"What?"
He crawls onto the mattress between your legs, spreading them wide, laying your calves on either side of his hips. "Let me watch you."
There's a moment of hesitation, but you don't look nervous. OnlyâŠcurious.
You pick up the vibrator and slide the pink silicone through your folds, spreading your arousal before you press the power button. You circle your clit with the tip of it a few times, teasing yourself.
When you turn the toy on, he can feel the vibration against his hands that grip your thighs. You let out a syrupy moan and turn the intensity higher, drawing tight circles around your pretty clit.
He watches you, eyes locked on the pink silicone between your legs. He watches your entrance flutter, tightening around nothing, begging to be filled. "Your pussy is so pretty," he mutters. "Do you know that?"
Your only response is a breathy whimper. You click the intensity up again, putting it on the highest setting, and Pope sighs when your legs begin to shake around him.
He wants to watch you make yourself cum. Wants another scene to fuck his fist to in the shower or in his bed or in his truck.
But he's here. Finally, finally here, in your bed, with you, and he can't help himself.
Pope grips your hips hard and pulls you closer, tilting your hips up into his lap. The vibrator falls from your hand at the sudden movement, but he's quick to return it to you. "Keep going."
You press the silicone back to your clit, and Andrew spreads you open with gentle thumbs. He gathers the spit in his mouth and lets it drip from his lips and onto the seam of your cunt.
And then he's sliding his middle finger inside of your entrance, curling it upwards, searching for that sweet spot that makes you writhe.
It doesn't take long. He's watched you. He knows just what you like and what angle to hit. And the second the tip of his finger presses hard against it, you fist your free hand in the sheets and curses fall from your sweet mouth.
Pope slides another thick finger inside, watching the way you squirm, feeling the walls of your cunt flutter around the swell of his knuckles.
"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonnaâoh, fuck. Feels so good, feels so fuckingâ"
A long, throaty moan leaves your mouth, and he feels the warmth of your release pool in his palm. You're so slick that each wet thrust of his fingers echoes against the walls of your room.
He doesn't stop until you're twitching. Until you click the vibrator off and shove it away from you. And even then, he still gives a few, slow curls of his fingers inside of you. Not touching with intent, justâŠfeeling. Memorizing.
Once you catch your breath, you lean up enough to find his eyes again. You say timidly, shyly, "I wantâŠI want to feel you, Andrew. I want you inside me. Do youâŠdo you want to fuck me?"
It's the most asinine question he's ever been asked in his fucking life. Does he want to fuck you?
He's thought of nothing else for months. Every night when he fights for sleep, it's the thought of you under him that puts him to bed.
It's such an impractical concern from his point of view that he laughs. Actually laughs, for the first time in years. "Oh, baby."
Pope takes your hands in his. He presses one to his chest, right over his heart, and the other against the hardness in his jeans.
"I have never wanted another woman as bad as I want you," he says truthfully. "But IâŠyouâŠyou deserve better than this. Better than me. You understand that, don't you?"
You shake your head. "You don't know me, Andrew. Not really. You don't know ifâ"
"No, no. I do. I know you're the kind of friend who would give the shirt off their back. The kind of girl who'd let her phone get cut off before asking for help. The kind of girl who gets up every morning and justâŠtries. Every day. And you fuckingâŠyou smile about it. You're good. You're so fucking good and IâŠ"
He stops.
Remembers the last time he loved someone like this and how he'd made a stupid confession he should've taken to his grave and how it'd fucked him completely.
"You're what, Andrew?"
Pope swallows. "I'm...I'm a bad man. I've hurt people. I willâŠhurt people, Iâ" His voice cracks. He lowers his eyes, trying to turn away, unable to find the strength to face you.
But you take his jaw in your gentle hands and force him to look at you. Sweet, angel of a girl that you are. And then you say without a waver to be found in your voice, "I like who you are. Do you think I gave the man who watches me through my window my phone number because I want some guy I could match with on Tinder?"
He tries to slow the rapid pounding of his heart. He wonders if love is supposed to be like this. To feel like this. All consuming and terrifying and devastatingly hopeful above all.
You shake your head and tuck your legs beneath you, sitting up on your knees. He sits stone still as you lean forward and kiss his cheek, whispering against his ear, "I've been watching you, too, Andrew Cody."
Something shifts inside of him as you say it. Uttering his last name that he'd never given you, that isn't even on his lease because this is a fake apartment under a fake name to launder the money they steal.
Ohâsweet, smart girl. Smarter than he thought.
How silly of him to ever doubt you.
There's a newfound wildness in your eyes when they meet his again. An unveiling. Like he's seeing you for who you truly are for the first time.
And you'reâŠgod. So fucking beautiful.
And, yeah. Pope thinks he's been right this whole fucking time.
He's weird and wrong and sickly obsessed.
But you are, too.
Andrew takes you by the back of the neck and kisses you hard, desperate to taste you, to close what little physical space remains between your body and his. He pushes you back against the mattress and follows you down.
Your hands find his belt buckle before he does, and he stares down at you as your deft fingers pry the leather open and unbutton his jeans. He helps you push the denim down his legs until his cock springs free, heavy and leaking. Wanting for you, twitching as you take it carefully in your hand.
A groan reverberates at the back of his mouth. Your hands are so soft. Perfect and pliant. One day, he swears he'll show you how he likes to be touched. He'll let you sit in his lap and watch him stroke his cock for you.
But for now, he lets you touch him slowly. Experimental. Feeling the heavy weight of him in your palm. You spit on your fingertips and spread your saliva over his sensitive tip, flushed red and pulsing beneath your touch.
You lean back and guide him between your thighs, sliding the head of his cock through your syrupy folds and over your clit.
The moment you line him up at your entrance, Pope eases inside and you let out the sweetest fucking sigh he's ever heard in his entire life. Sweet and soft and so, so satisfied.
It's so beautiful. You're so beautiful. And you feel warm and heavenly and wet around him. He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then drives his cock back into your cunt.
You squeal and those sharp, acrylic nails dig into his spine. But your legs circle his hips, and so Pope does it again.
He fucks you hard. Claiming that spot at the back of your cunt, pressed right up against your cervix. He rolls his hips and presses his mouth to yours, swallowing up those desperate, carnal sounds he pulls out of our chest.
Sweet girl. Sweet fucking girl. He reaches between you and circles your clit. "My girl now," he says, words spoken against your lips. "You'll never need anyone else, baby. No one but me."
You nod, the velvety walls of your pussy squeezing around the hard length of his cock.
Andrew puts his whole weight on top of you, grinding himself between your thighs, giving you everything he has. Everything he is.
"I'm yours," you choke out. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'mâ"
It becomes a mantra. One that feeds his desire, in perfect sync with the rhythm of his thrusts. He watches your arousal begin to crest, nearing the summit, the muscles in your thighs twitching. "Look at me, baby," he says. "Tell me you love me when I make you cum."
You're so lost in it, head all spacey, that your eyes remain closed until he takes your jaw in a firm grip.
There are pretty tears in your eyes when you open them, but that smile on your face is present, too. He feels you pulse around him and your breath gets all shallow and thenâ
"I love you, Andrew, I fuckingâoh my god please, pleaseâI love you."
The words are music to his ears, tingling down his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He thought the sound of his name in your mouth was beautiful but thisâŠfuck. He could die.
Pope thinks he would. For you, he would.
He fucks you through it. Tastes your moans and says, "Yeah, that's it. Give it to me. Look so pretty when you cum for me."
He doesn't let his pace falter until your muscles loosen, until your nails stroke gently over his spin instead of leaving marks.
You pepper sweet kisses over his jaw, tongue sliding up the shell of his ear. "I want you to cum inside me," you tell him.
He's been fighting it the whole time, trying desperately not to blow his load before he'd at least gotten you there first.
But when you say that?
When you say, "Please, Andrew. Want you to give it to me. Want you to fill me up with your cum. Please. I need it."
He thinks about telling you that you don't have to beg. Not him, not for anything (especially this). But you just sound so pretty, begging for his cum, that he can't bring himself to do it.
So, he gives you what you want instead. Fucks his cum into you, groaning low in your ear, cock pulsing inside you. You feel so good wrapped around him it's euphoric. Otherworldly.
Your pussy grips tight, milking him dry, taking every last drop (he knows you're on birth control. Don't you know the women's clinic downtown keeps a spare key beneath the plant in front of their door?).
Andrew is careful when he slides out of you. And he wastes no time before kicking his jeans the rest of the way off and pulling you against his chest.
He pulls the blanket up around your shoulders and presses a kiss to your hairline. His voice wavers a little as he says, "Sorry if IâŠif I was a little rough."
You shake your head, pressing your nose to the divot between his pectorals. "It was perfect," you murmur against his skin.
Silence settles between you. Comfortable and easy, the sound of your breathing in perfect synchronization.
After some time you say, "I meant it, you know. Wouldn't have said it if I didn't. I really think I might be in love with you, Andrew. Is thatâŠcrazy?"
Yes, he wants to say.
But he feels it, too.
So instead he says, "You know, I don'tâŠI don't have much experience with that sorta thing. Don't really know how toâŠto navigate it, I guess. But, uhmâŠyeah. Me, too."
He feels that smile of yours against his chest.
Andrew knows that this dynamic the two of you have created is weird.
a/n: thanks to juno for planting the brainworms for this
minjoong x f!reader
thinking about mingi & hongjoong...
they are so mean to you.
they find so much pleasure in torturing you, seeking out your limits, and happily pushing you past them with a grin on their face and their hands all over you. they learned recently that you cannot handle them both at the same time without shattering like porcelain. melting against their bodies like the heat of their skin was too much, suffocating between them like some kind of trapped animal.Â
it has become their new favorite way of making you go stupid.
hongjoong lies back on the bed, his legs spread nice and wide to accommodate your body between them, lying lazily with your back against his chest. his lips buried against your neck or whispering next to your ear, kissing the side of your throat, or praising you against your temple. his hands roam about your body, travelling up your sides, along your shaking arms, up to pinch your nipples, and rolling them between his fingertips. his ankles hook on yours to keep your legs spread pretty and open, all for him.
mingi, who leans over your body, his hands hooked nice and hard on your hips, squeezing so tight it bruises. his head dropped as he watched his body roll and move, meticulously gliding his big cock in and out of your drooling cunt. youâre so wet it leaves a shiny mess on his lower abdomen each time his hips meet yours, and youâre creaming around the base of him each time he sinks in so deep that hongjoong can feel your shoulders tense with every drag.
mingi lets low, breathy groans slip past his swollen lips, never ripping his gaze from your pussy. enamoured with how you seemed to just suck him right back in each time he pulled back, like your body had a mind of its own. your sweet, helpless moans awakened that urge in him to drag more sounds out of you, shifting the angle of his hips every so often to keep you on your toes, never giving you the chance to relax.
and hongjoong was so sick in your ear and against your skin. pressing wet, moaning kisses against your neck and below your ear, his fingers ghosting down the front of your body so softly, teasing you with fleeting rolls against your puffy clit.
âfuck⊠please keep doing that.â mingi sighs to hongjoong, letting his head fall back for a second to really relish in the feeling of your warm walls around his cock.Â
hongjoong laughs softly against your ear and presses his palm flat against your lower stomach, just enough pressure to put a weight on your bladder, just enough that he could feel mingi stroking in and out of your guts beneath it. âdoing what, min?â he coos, dragging his other hand up the side of your waist, squeezing and kneading and feeling all of you like you were some kind of stress toy.
âkeep talkinâ to her.â mingi purrs, pressing his fingers against your hips in a wave motion, lowering them a bit further to grab purchase on your thighs to spread you even wider.Â
âshe gets so goddamn tight when you do.âÂ
you bite your bottom lip and moan lowly when the warmth of hongjoongâs hand spreads over your belly, and he gently nips at your earlobe when mingi starts to push himself into you even deeper, grinding his hips against yours and whining lowly when you gush around him even more.
âyou like me talking to you, hm pretty baby?â hongjoong whispers against your ear so low, so fucking low, your entire body shudders against his chest, and you can hear mingi moan so loud, and it makes your stomach clench.
you canât even reply, and heâs pressing his hand harder against your stomach. lights start blinking behind your eyes, and you break out into a drunk sweat. âsuch a good, slick girl for us, aren't you?â
the hand on your waist moves again, down over your hips, over the top of your thigh, before it slips between your legs and he finds your clit once again, but this time he makes no move to stop as he begins to rub, languid, pressurized upward circles against it. your back arches against hongjoongâs chest, and your legs shake, but hongjoongâs strong legs keep you spread open so mingi can keep fucking you full of him.
you feel mingi twitch inside of you, and heâs letting his head fall forward, his eyebrows knit together in pure bliss, and his lips parted in bassy grumbles as you tighten so much around him he swears heâs drooling on your stomach.
your head starts to lean back on your neck against hongjoongâs shoulder, but he wonât let you. he moves his hand away from your clit and brings it up to press his palm flat against the back of your skull.Â
ânuh uh, sweet girl. down. watch him fuck you, baby. look at how soaked you are.â and he pushes your head back down, forcing you to stare at mingiâs lower body. his body rolling as he pushes his cock into you with deep, calculated strokes, strings of slick clinging to his lower v-line. his big hands holding you nice and open, his nails leaving crescent moons in the flesh of your thighs. you whine pathetically when you also see the way hongjoong holds his hand down against your stomach, like he was trying to pin you in place between them, keeping you from running. it was all just too much.
âf-fuck..! i c-cant-â you cry out, and mingi is first to shoot you down. with a rough, pinpointed thrust, heâs bringing his hand up and then back down, landing a burning slap on your cunt as he starts to fuck into you with nasty purpose.
âyou can, and you are.â he snips at you, and hongjoong ruts his hard on against your lower back, feeling mingiâs cock move in and out of you so roughly beneath his palm through the flesh of your stomach, it was driving him mad.
âdonât be so rough, youâre gonna hurt her, you know how big you are.â hongjoong pretends to care, kissing beneath your ear and whining softly just to get you to clench tighter.
mingi clicks his tongue, leaning down just far enough that he can talk to you against your other ear.
âsheâll be alright. wonât you, baby?â he grits out through a low moan, emphasizing his point with a deep roll of his hips, pressing so heavily into you it makes your limbs twitch like youâve been shocked.
when he feels you suck him in so much stronger than any other time that night, he just knew your brain was mush at this point, and drags his tongue up the side of yout throat, ending his journey with a kiss to the shell of your ear and a vulgar murmur against your skin. ânasty fuckin girl.â
then heâs pulling back, completely focused on ruining your pretty cunt with his cock, using you like a living, breathing toy. hongjoong presses his nose flush against the vein in your neck as he talks to you.
âheâs so deep inside of you, sweetheart, i can feel him.â
âiâm kind of jealous right now, he's got you making such a sticky mess on his dick, huh?â
âcâmon, baby, get louder, moan for us⊠like this.âÂ
and heâll mock you with whiny, playful moans of his own against your ear, sending shockwaves to your cunt. the pinches on your clit an encouragement to keep performing for them, the deep drag of mingiâs tip against that brain-numbing spot a plea to keep you moaning like a slut.
âonce minâs done, we can switch. and he can play with your pussy and talk to you all sweet while i fuck you so full of me youâll start leaking all over the place.â you groan loudly, and your spine arches beautifully as you feel it, your orgasm travelling from your lower belly all throughout your body. your skin tingling and your brain fogging, your nerves on high alert as you cum all over mingiâs cock.
âohâ fuck. she liked that, huh? didnât you babyâŠâ mingi pauses for a brief moment, overwhelmed by how stunning you looked cumming all over the two of them.
âthere we go, baby, that's it. get it allll out, keeping cumming.â hongjoong slows the movement on your clit to light, teasing brushes. each time he pushes up against the sensitive bud, your entire body jerks between them.
before long, mingiâs cumming too, slowing his hips and pressing nice and deep into you, making sure you stay plugged with him as he fills you up, groaning so low you could feel your ribcage shiver. he pulls out with the wettest, slickest sound and sighs heavily, immediately getting on his knees and shoving his face between your thighs.
with a hungry moan, heâs splitting your lips with his thick tongue, obscenely cleaning you up with fervor, his hands sinking into your thighs and holding you down against the bed so you donât shake too much.
it's all a blur, but suddenly youâre moving, and youâre lying flat on the bed, no warm body behind you to keep you upright. and you lean yourself up on shaky elbows to see what's going on, and you nearly pass out.
hongjoong and mingi are both in front of you, hongjoong's fingers gripping the hair on the back of mingiâs head iron tight, and he pulls him in for the nastiest, greediest kiss youâve ever witnessed. and you are absolutely dumbstruck.
you can see every flip of their tongues, the way mingi seems to melt against him, and you can see both of their cocks jump and twitch. tasting the mixture of mingiâs cum and your arousal, hongjoong smiles against his lips like some kind of slut.
you feel like it lasts forever before they're pulling away from each other, a thin trail of saliva snapping between them.
theyâre both breathing heavily, and as if they were reading each otherâs minds, hongjoong cocks his head to the side, and mingi moves. he lifts your body off the bed and takes hongjoongâs previous place, sitting on the bed and pulling your back against his chest, molding your body to his front. you can feel his soaked cock twitch against your backside, and his lips press heavily against the heat of your neck.
his hands grab your hips, and his legs spread you nice and wide once again, and you watch as hongjoong slots himself between your thighs as heâs licking the leftovers off the corner of his mouth, his lips parted in a small, lust-drunk smile. his hands find your thighs as he leans down and slowly slides the length of his cock through the slick mess of your cunt, hot and heavy against you. and you feel like youâve been shot, point-blank range.
mingiâs hand snakes forward, and he grips your jaw in a firm, controlling hold, forcing your head to stay angled towards hongjoong, and you whimper out of what can only be described as fear and anticipation.
âmy turn,â hongjoong murmurs breathlessly, playfully, and right as heâs sinking into your pussy, mingi clamps his jaw down on your shoulder, moaning against your skin as the pain of his teeth breaking your skin and the pleasure of hongjoongâs cock splitting you open sends your poor brain into complete and utter overdrive.
CONTENT â SMUT in big font so MDNI, MC is a virgin but slowly show her pervy side, Sunghoon as the flirt and fuckboy, Virginy lose subject, total geek reader (and hoon love it), Dirty Talk / Filthy Scientific Talk (yeah you'll see), smut with little plot, protected sex (for once in here...), Fingering, Exhibitionism, Sex Ed trope, Blowjob / Deepthroating, Dom/Sub Undertones, Doggy Style, Nerdy/Clumsy Female Character watch out it can get a bit cringe, light and funny fic!!!
WC â 11K
(used to be named digital game~)
âI want experience before I make a move on Jake.â
Youâre sprawled across your bed like some tragic heroine, one arm flung over your eyes, the other clutching your phone as if it might miraculously spit out a salvation good fuck.
It doesnât, of course it only glows back at you, a reminder of your pitiful, barren love life. Or more accurately, the obscene void where a love life should be.
And tonightâs Discord call with the girls only rubbed salt into the wound.
Youâve had the full âgood girlâ starter pack since birth, after all :
Strict old-school family, two way-too-intrusive older brothers acting like self-appointed jailers, and a mind obsessively glued to the idea of finally getting into your dream universityâ And Jake your crush since you can remember. So no getting high, No booze, no sneaking out, no parties. No fumbling kisses in the dark. No sex.
No sex since birth. Never happened.
NeverâŠ
Not because you didnât want it. Oh god, no⊠youâve marinated in enough romance books, smutty novels to make a nun choke. Youâve built an entire secret universe in your head filled with dirty promises and degrading words, and sweet nothings all while the reality of your thighs has been nothing but your own hand and your mom's massage wand.
sex always felt like some impossible luxury and guys around you seemed allâwith most respectâ pure garbage. Except for your brotherâs friend JakeâŠ
But now youâve become a virgin with a filthy mind, trapped by circumstance and maybeâjust maybeâa little by fear.
The earbuds buzz againâyour friends still talking, still laughing, still reminding you of everything youâve missed.
âJust download a damn app already,â one of them nags like youâre some prehistoric relic refusing to evolve.
âYouâre literally three states away from your parents, whatâs gonna happen?â another chimes in.
âI know one! I know one!â The third just cackles. âAnd donât even think about ghosting us when you finally get railedâI want coordinates. And a selfie. Full tea, princess.â
You snort, half amused, half desperate. What else was there to do? With a sigh and a fast pounding heart, you give in, download the damn app, and open it, fully expecting the usual swipe-left-swipe-right graveyard of bad bios and worse retouch photos.
But nope. This thing is⊠next-level.
Full identity verification, yet completely anonymous.
And the kinks section? You nearly drop the phone. Breath play. Rope. Deprivation. Roleplay. The words stare back at you like a confessional, like your secret little catalogue of fantasies suddenly laid out like a menu. Your pulse jumps, your mouth goes dry, and you actually check boxes. Maybe all of them? You're so thrilled you don't even know anymore.
The app also has very specific freaking features too. most of which are body sizes oriented : like sizes, number of sexual partner had and max can take. how often youâre willing to do it, and if youâre looking for a regular fuck or a one timer.
God, youâre actually excited. Like, are you really gonna do this? What are you doing?
The thought of finally living out the fantasies youâve kept buried makes your chest tighten. The craving to feel hands exploring, possessing, lips claiming yours, the mind-numbing rush of losing control under someoneâs grip⊠You want it. Even if it's you pretending to do it out of experience gain and not pure desperation.
You glance at your profile. Not exactly confident, but at least it's honest. Your picture is a cropped shot of you in new clothesânothing suggestive, just enough to show what youâre working with under that deceptively cute smile, and the outline of some glasses out of frame.You look like someoneâs honors student⊠which is what you are.
Your bio reads: âVirgin. So looking to lose it! But I watched a lot of porn and did my research..." Yeah better not having them expect something else.
"Curious. Looking to explore⊠but with someone who gets it. Experienced. Gentle. Reasonably sized (because letâs be real, Iâm scared of the D) so if you're too proud of its size don't dm please... Maybe someday tho... Also I want to get to know you first. Starting something important soon, so be quick⊠but not in bed lol.â
When you hit submit, your heart slams so hard you think your ribs might crack. The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and suddenly youâre aware that youâve done something irreversible. The app isnât just dumb pixels on a screen anymoreâitâs a door. And youâve opened it.
The morning after, you regret everything!
The morning after, regret eats you alive. Who the hell decides to surrender their virginity to a faceless username? The thought interested people trying to connect with you lives rent free in your head for three whole days while the app sits untouched, notification disabled.
Not deleted, huh...
Just shyly ignored, untouched, lurking like temptation itself.
For three days⊠for three fucking days you pretend youâre above it. For three days you play the good girl again. But on the third day, whether itâs ovulation, boredom, or pure self-destructionâŠ
You open it..
Your inbox is chaotic. A gallery of unsolicited dicks with question marks, so close you can count the veins. Men calling you âprincess,â âbaby,â âlittle virgin slutâ as if the word alone makes you free game. Virgins are rare hereâapparently a delicacyâand they swarm you like locusts.
There are a few normal humans mixed in, thankfully. One of them sends a message so casual it almost feels like a mistake:
Ice-Hoon: Are you a fan of Chase Atlantic? Like your shirt.
Ice-Hoon: But like... You're a real virgin... or it's part of your kink? I'm curious
You stare at the message for a ridiculous amount of time. And reread it too much for someone supposed to enter a prestigious university in a prestigious department. You type, delete, type again.
Then your thumb betrays you. One click, and his profile opens.
And just like that youâre wet. Not soaking, not ruined, but the kind of subtle ache that makes your thighs press together. His picture is gym-bro perfection, styled like a K-drama lead with just enough edge to look dangerous.
The comment on his profile tho, another piece of cake. They're crazy. going from simple shy gratitude to literally verbal sexual assaulting him with compliments : girls begging for round 69, girls worshipping, girls sounding absolutely feral.
His sexual interests list was... fine⊠Almost. Slightly overwhelming, but ok... Not the scariest out here. But god you fit perfectly in his âguilty pleasureâ section. and it hurted a bit to enter this category.
Inexperienced girls. Cute loser. Curious little sluts ready to be broken in. Also book freaks I see you⊠Wants to know the drillsâŠ
Exactly you. Your stomach knots at the thought⊠You fit too neatly into his hunger.
You slam back to the chat, pulse stuttering. Typing feels like walking a tightrope.
You : Chase Atlantic? Yes. My playlist is dangerously emo most times. Also... Yeah, real virgin... Not a kink. Sorry if that's boring.
The reply is instant. The notification lights up your whole body.
Ice-Hoon: Not boringâŠâFucking sexy. Makes me want to see how innocent you really are. Emo playlist too? Perfect. I could wreck you to every track on it.
Your breath stutters. He doesnât stop.
Ice-Hoon: So tell me⊠have you ever had anyone touch you? Or is your pussy still untouched even by clumsy fingers?
The audacity makes your cheeks burn. The worst part is⊠heâs not wrong.
You: Wow... Sraight to the thesis question, huh? Answer = mostly untouched. Unless you count⊠Self-experiments... Which you donât. ProbablyâŠ
Ice-Hoon: Donât overthink. Just let me in. Youâll see I donât fuck aroundâunless itâs you Iâm fucking.
He was good at it. Too good. The conversation flowed easier than you expected â stupid memes, gifs, music links, doujins, manga scans. It was almost normal. Which is why when he dropped the question, it felt like a slap.
Ice-Hoon: Think we lost the plot, no? Still looking to lose that virginity? Or did someone else already claim the prize?
Your stomach twisted.
Because the truth was â youâd been on his profile more times than youâd admit. Staring at those same two pictures. Clean, sharp, devastating. The kind of man who looked like heâd fuck you senseless and never call again. Except he did call again. Every day. Every night. Two hours logged, all on him.
And he knew it.
There was something infuriating about you â Sunghoon hated it, loved it. Your profile screamed fuck me, but your messages? All soft edges, careful words. Like you wanted friends. Like you didnât know how wet you made him. He wanted to rip that contradiction out of you with his teeth.
And God, he was jealous. No, not jealous â curious. Had you already caved for someone else? Had some other guy stretched your cunt first? He hoped not. He prayed not. He wanted it raw, untouched, all for him.
Ice-Hoon: Still looking to lose it? Or is the case closed?
You: ⊠Yeah. Still looking. Case open.
He smirked at his screen. Predatory.
Ice-Hoon: Good.
Ice-Hoon: Because I want to be the one fucking you.
You: You're evilâŠ
Your heart jackknifed. Your thighs clenched. It was wrong how hot it made you.
Ice-Hoon: Still there, sweetheart? Or did I scare my shy little virgin?
You: Yeah⊠I just⊠got a bit shy.
Ice-Hoon: Then letâs warm you up. How about we check if you like what you see first? Ready?
You didnât even have time to answer. The next message hit like a truck â a full cock shot. Big. Pretty. Veins running thick under his fist. He even angled it in that shameless .5, hand and forearm in frame, masculine and heavy. You dropped your phone on the bed. Picked it up. Zoomed in.
Fuck.
You were pathetic.
Ice-Hoon: Like it, sweetheart?
You nodded to yourself like an idiot before typing.
You: Not bad⊠actually, you look super good⊠It's really hot.
He grinned. Dangerous.
Ice-Hoon: Knew it. Bet youâre hot too. Show me. Pretty please. Iâm pent up here, and I want to jerk to your body.
Your chest burned. But you rose anyway. Too fast, head light. You fought with your shirt, your glasses falling off with it, jersey lifting higher and higher until it was gone. You sent it. Heart pounding.
He almost groaned at his screen. He hadnât expected you to give so much so soon. At most, a leg pic or a strange angle. But fuck, you did. And now he couldnât stop. His cock twitched violently in his hand, precum slicking his fist as he stroked harder.
Ice-Hoon: Fuck, youâre cute. Youâre gonna make me ruin you, sweetheart. I need it. I need to split that virgin pussy on my cock until you canât walk.
The next thing you knew, your phone buzzedâ
A call !!!
Your thumb pressed before you thought.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
His voice filled your room. A sexy deep voice, breathless, and wet slapping sounds in the background, which made you wet.
âHey⊠youâre fucking gorgeous.â
Your throat closed. âMh⊠thanksâŠhiâŠâ
He chuckled, low, dark. âTell me. How did my video make you feel, sweetheart?â
You swallowed. âIt was⊠sexy.â
âNo. Tell me how it made you feel⊠Physically.â
Your stomach bottomed out. Your voice shook. ââŠwarm. Tight. My⊠belly.â
He hissed. âFuck. You seem so cute...â
And then his camera flipped on. He wasnât hiding anymore. He was sprawled out, cock in hand, stroking rough, his abs tightening, jaw clenched. Real. Too real.
âTouch yourself,â he ordered, voice guttural. âDo it with me. Let me hear how wet you are.â
You obeyed. Because what else could you do? Your body was already soaked, already pulsing. His groans fueled yours until shame and arousal blurred into one sharp edge.
And it felt good, maybe because you weren't alone, alone, but it felt more⊠just more.
You whimper, voice cracking, moans spilling, hot, wet sounds, desperate. Shame collides with want. And that shame tastes electric on your tongue. Want presses against your ribs like a hand you canât shake. Heâs everywhere already, in your chest, in your thighs, behind your eyes.
âGod, Iâm going to teach you everything,â he breathes, almost a growl now. âIâll make you scream my name. Make you beg for every touch, every finger, every inch of me. Youâre going to remember this. Every second. And youâll want more. Youâll always want more. Do you understand me, baby?â
You gasp barely a word, barely a breath, but itâs enough.
He drags the moment out. âImagine my mouth on you. All over. Taste yourself on my tongue. Youâd let me, wouldnât you? My little virgin.â
You arch back off the bed, fingertips digging into your own skin, because his voice makes everything alive. âYesâŠâ
âSay my name when you come. Say it. Make me feel it.â
You do. Whisper first. Then a moan that rattles your chest and makes you dizzy. Fingers stutter, kneading, pressing, stroking. Your phone tilts and slips but doesnât matter, not at all.
Heat floods your cunt. Pulse spikes. Breath jerks in staccato bursts. Every nerve in your body screaming. Youâre light-headed. Shaking. Moaning. Wet. Wet. Wetter.
âFuck⊠yeah⊠just like that. God, you seem perfect. Iâll ruin you so good. So messy. Youâll taste like me and beg for it again. Again and againâŠâ
Your thighs squeeze. Your stomach contracts. You canât think and donât want to. Only react. Only respond. Only obey.
Your orgasm hits in jagged waves, sharp, feral. You cry out. Your body folds into itself, shudders, trembles. Phone slides to the side. Vision spins. Everything contracts, and then⊠nothing. Only heat, only pulse, only the echo of him.
And then: him.
A guttural laugh, ragged, victorious. The camera on him catching the mess of his release, chest heaving, fingers slick. Cum streaking his abs, feral and unapologetic.
âYouâre a fucking natural,â he pants, still stroking, and yes dark. âGod, Iâm going to ruin you properly. Iâll make you crave me like a drug. Every inch. Every gasp. Ever shiver.â
Your legs shake. Breath stutters. The fire in your chest claws up into your throat. You want him. You want him to be wrong and right at the same time. To push you and pull you apart. To fuck you feral and soft until you canât tell your name from his.
How do your friends do it? Meeting with strangers.
Still you're here standing in some coffee shop in the middle of the mall, looking like every passing person knew you were here to meet with a reasonably long dicked sexy guy, that you would normally have no business talking to.
Then he walks in. Oh yeah, it's himâŠ
Tall, dark hair grazing his lashes, lips pulled into that crooked smirk that makes your stomach flip. He catches your red ribbonâs scrunchie instantlyâlike you told him you'd wear. It's like he already knows youâll be exactly where he left you: nervous, fidgeting, cute.
Your hair tucked and those glasses⊠Your skirt, short enough to dare someone to stare. The way your shoulders curl inward with shyness. Every detail sketches a map straight to a neat, soft center he already wants to bruise, already wants to claim. You wear the kind of face that drives a man to two instincts at once: protect you, and ruin you.
It made him insane since he saw you from outside.
Sunghoon wants to guard that softness, but also wants to be the one to bruise it, test it, bend it until youâre gasping for more. You make him greedy. He remembers the sound youâll make the first time shame and desire collide in your throat and already knows heâll be addicted to it.
âHey, little virgin.â He leans down, low enough that his breath brushes your ear.
Your cheeks ignite. You smack his arm on instinct. âDonât call me that here.â
He laughs, unbothered, sliding into the chair across from you like he owns it. âRelax, sweetheart. No oneâs listening.â He tips your straw into his mouth, slurping like a menace, eyes dragging over your skirt before dragging back up to your glasses.
âCute. You dressed up for me?â
You huff, adjusting those very glasses, âhaha, funny, also you're late.â
âSorry I was still dazed from our last week session. Plus wasn't sure you'd really show up.â
And thenâbefore you can lose your nerveâyou reach into your bag and drop a folded sheet of paper onto the table.
He blinks. âWhatâs that?â
âMy list.â
âYourââ He picks it up, smooth brows climbing as he scans. âWhat the fuck?â His laugh bursts out, loud enough to make the couple at the next table glance over. âYouâre kidding me.â
âIâm not,â you say primly, straightening in your seat. âThere isnât much time before summer break ends, and if I get a boyfriend when school starts, I donât want to seem⊠you know. Clueless. So I made a study plan.â
He stares at you like you just handed him the holy grail. âStudy plan?â
âYes.â You clear your throat, trying to stay serious. âI need to learn how to give good head, how to move during sex, what positions feel best for both people, what noises are⊠realisticââ
âRealistic noises,â he repeats, covering his mouth with his fist, shoulders shaking. âYouâre out of your fucking mind.â
âIâm not clueless,â you continue, undeterred. âIâve watched porn. Read plenty of doujins. I know the theory. But theory isnât practice, andââ you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, dead seriousâ âI want to be good. Noâgreat. So Iâll be in your care.â
He just stares. Like your words hit his brain but refused to compute. Then he laughs, wild and disbelieving, dragging a hand through his hair like he needs to ground himself. âYouâre insane. And I love it.â
âSoâŠâ You lean forward. âWeâre going to your place?â
That makes him choke on your drink. He slams it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes sparkling with disbelief and something much darker. âYouâre really asking me that in broad daylight?â
âYes.â You whisper.
His smirk sharpens, fangs showing. He reaches across the table and takes your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles like heâs sealing a pact. âDeal. ButâŠâ He squeezes, tilting his head. âHow about we walk a bit first? Ease you in. I donât want you fainting in my hallway.â
Your lips twitch. âYouâre that confident?â
âSweetheart.â His gaze drops deliberately to your skirt, then back up to your flushed face. âYou donât even know what kind of perv you signed up with. By the time Iâm done, your little list gonna need an appendix.â
Your stomach swoops. Heat curls between your thighs at his certainty. And when he stands, tugging you up by the hand like itâs the most natural thing in the world, you realize heâs not kidding.
Heâs going to ruin you sweetly. And youâre the one who handed him the syllabus.
The deal is struck, your ridiculous list tucked back into his back pocket, his thumb still tingling against your skin. Heâs grinning like a wolf in broad daylight, walking beside you through the mall like he hasnât just been promoted to your private tutor in all things indecent.
And of course, oh of course he canât keep his mouth shut.
âSoâŠâ he drawls, hands in his pockets, long strides slowing so you have to keep up, âwith what do you wanna start, sweetheart? Blowjobs? Positions? Or should I just fuck you dumb and tick off the rest later?â
You nearly trip. âShut upâdonât say that so loud!â
He chuckles, tilting his head, watching you fuss with your glasses like it hides how red your face has gone. âCute. Youâre already panicking, and I havenât even touched you yet.â
But he does touch you. Constantly. His fingers brush your wrist when you pass shop windows, graze your lower back as you weave through the crowd, linger too long when he hands you a shopping bag like itâs an excuse. Every casual graze feels deliberate. Dangerous.
And then, while youâre flipping through a rack of skirts, he leans in behind you. Close enough that his breath slides down your neck. âCan I touch you?â he murmurs, so soft it sounds like a secret.
You freeze, knuckles whitening around the steel rack. âWhatâhere?â
âWhy not?â His voice is silk over gravel. His hand drifts lower, brushing the hem of your skirt as if heâs only steadying himself. âNo oneâs watching. And youâŠâ His fingers slip just beneath the fabric, knuckles grazing the bare skin of your thigh. ââŠyouâre shaking like you want me to.â
Your lungs forget how to work. The world moves around youâ shoppers, neon lights, a screaming kid somewhere near the food courtâbut all you can feel is the ghost of his hand, gliding higher, fingers teasing dangerously close to your panties.
âHoonââ you whisper, breathless.
âSunghoon. That's my full name.â He hums like itâs innocent, pressing just enough to brush your clothed clit, slow, purposeful pressure that makes your knees nearly buckle. âYou said you wanted practice. Lesson one: donât squirm.â
Your hand flies out, gripping his wrist, not pushing him away but grounding yourself before you collapse into the rack. âYouâre insane.â
He smirks against your ear, voice low and dark. âNo, sweetheart. Iâm invested.â Another stroke, firmer this time. âYouâre so fucking wet already. If you think Iâm waiting until a hotel room to play with youâŠâ His laugh is feral, vibrating through you. âYouâve got a lot to learn.â
You bite your lip, pulse a riot, every nerve screaming with the thrill of being touched here, surrounded by people who have no idea. And then, just as quickly, he pulls back, smoothing your skirt like nothing happened.
âRelax,â he says lightly, as if he didnât just finger you through your panties in public. He grabs a random top from the rack and holds it up to your chest, grin wicked. âThis would look cute on you.â
Your glare is weak, trembling. âYouâre impossible, Sunghoon...â still buzzing from the way his hand teases, when your stomach drops.
Not to far, leaning against a counter, is Jake. The Jake. Crush-of-the-year Jake. The one you were supposed to look good and normal for. Heâs laughing with some friends, holding a shopping bag, and if he spots you right now itâsâ
âShit.â You grab Hoonâs sleeve and yank him down, crouching between racks of clothes like youâre in a spy movie.
He blinks at you, amused. âUh. Wanna go at it again?â
âShh!â You slap a hand over his mouth, panicked, peeking through the gaps in hangers. Jake is only a few steps away, too close, too casual. You canât breathe.
And of course, Sunghoon licks your palm.
You recoil. âYouâre disgustingââ
Heâs grinning now, sharp teeth flashing. âWhatâs going on? Who is it? Your little bf?â He tilts his head, trying to look over the racks and follow your eyes. âDon't tell me⊠That blond guy with the big sneakers?â
âStop itâ please donât! It's⊠like⊠my crush.â you hiss, pulling him back down by his hoodie strings.
Heâs delighted, eyes lighting up with mischief and something darker. âOh, it is him... Youâre hiding me from him like I'm your little secret.â His voice drops low, curling into your ear. âCute.â
And before you can protest, he kisses you.
His mouth claims yours with a heat that makes your brain white out. His thumb hooks under your chin, tilting you up like you belong to him.
You shove at his chest, breathless. âYouâre crazy! Heâs right there!â
Sunghoon just smirks, eyes flicking toward the corner where Jake is still distracted. âRelax. Heâs not looking. And even if he wasâŠâ His gaze drags over your lips, swollen from his smooch. ââŠSo what? I kinda want him to see what you taste like after meâŠâ
Your cheeks flame. Your heart is sprinting a mile a minute, torn between panic and the dizzy, molten rush in your chest.
âYouâre impossible,â you whisper.
âyou're adorable,â he corrects smoothly, brushing your glasses up your nose. âAll flustered, hiding me like Iâm your dirty secret.â His grin sharpens. âI like being that.â
You stand, grabbing a random pile of clothes like armor, when you see Jake turn around. âWeâre going. Now.â
âWhere?â Heâs already following, trailing close, hands in pockets like he didnât just assault your nervous system.
You donât answerâtoo busy dragging him past the shoppers, down the aisles, until you spot it: the glowing sign.
Fitting Rooms.
You donât even check which ones are freeâyou just yank him inside the farthest stall, slam the lock, and drop the pile of clothes onto the bench.
Heâs laughing under his breath, eyes wild, shoulders shaking like this is the best day of his life. âYou really justâdragged me into the fitting room. Like a madwoman.â
You spin on him, cheeks hot, breathing sharp. âBecause you donât know how to behaveââ
But heâs already crowding you, pressing you back against the wall, smirk gone feral. His thigh wedges between your legs, hands braced on either side of your head. âSweetheart, I behaved just fine. Youâre the one dragging me in here like youâre about to climb me.â
His breath is everywhere, hot, taunting, and the tiny stall suddenly feels like a locked cage with a predator.
Your chest heaves. âW-what are you doing??â
His grin curves, fang flashing against your jaw as his hand trails up your thigh, already under your skirt. âI told you, sweetheart. Iâm your tutor.â His breath licks your ear, voice dropping until itâs nothing but a growl. âLesson two? Kissing.â
Before you can argue, his mouth claims yours.
Not soft. Not polite. Itâs possession from the first brush, tongue teasing the seam of your lips until you open with a startled gasp. He slides in, slow and wet, tasting you like heâs starved. His hand cradles the back of your neck, holding you still while he deepens it, lazy at first, then hungrierâteeth dragging your bottom lip until you whimper.
âSee?â he murmurs, lips still brushing yours. âNot scary. Open up. Let me in.â
You do, trembling, glasses slipping down your nose as his tongue tangles with yours, teaching you rhythmâpush, pull, suck, repeat. His other hand tightens on your thigh, guiding your hips forward until youâre perched on him, straddling his lap on the fitting roomâs narrow bench.
âGood girl,â he breathes against your mouth, the praise making your stomach flip. âFuck, youâre a natural. Like youâve been waiting your whole life to kiss someone properly.â
You moan into him, the sound high and desperate. He swallows it greedily, tongue fucking into your mouth like heâs testing how far youâll let him go. You rock against him without meaning to, skirt riding higher, panties dragging over the thick bulge in his jeans.
âYeah, just like thatâŠâ His voice breaks into a groan, one hand gripping your waist as you grind down on him. âShit, you feel good. Wet little virgin, and youâre already using my cock like you know what to do.â
Your face burns, but you donât stop. Canât stop. Every drag of fabric-to-fabric sends heat sparking up your spine, every sloppy kiss making your head spin. Your glasses tilt dangerously, fogging with your panting, and he laughs against your lips, feral and pleased.
âthatâs messy." He kisses you. "And clumsy." Kisses. "Perfect.â He nips your tongue, your lip, sucking hard enough you squeak. âGod, youâre dripping through your panties, arenât you? I can fucking feel it.â
Youâre shaking, thighs trembling around him. Kissing was supposed to be simple, but itâs been long minutes of grinding, gasping, his tongue everywhere, his hands palming your ass under your skirt. Your whole body aches, wetness soaking the thin barrier of your underwear until you swear you might actually leave a stain on him.
Finally, you break away, chest heaving, lips swollen, spit slick between your chins. âS-stop⊠Jake must be gone by nowââ
He doesnât even let you finish. His hips buck up, grinding his cock against you so hard you yelp. His smirk is wolfish, eyes black with lust. âSweetheart, look at me.â
You do, trembling.
âIâm too fucking hard to walk out like this.â He presses himself against your soaked core, groaning at the heat. âFeel that? Thatâs all you. You did that to me.â
Your blush is nuclear. âIâI didnât meanââ
âYou meant it,â he interrupts smoothly, thumb brushing the spit off your swollen lip before sucking it into his mouth. His eyes pin you in place. âYou grinded on me like a desperate little slut, and now you want to run? No fucking way.â
Your thighs clench around him. He grins.
âLesson three,â he says, voice velvet and venom, cock twitching beneath you. âBlowjobs.â
Your breath catches. âWh-whatâhere? Now?â
He leans back on the bench, spreading his legs so you feel his length press right against your clit through denim. His grin is dizzy. âSweetheart, you think I can walk out there with a hard-on like this? We can wait but it's gonna be long⊠Youâre gonna learn how to fix it. Right here...â
You stared, breath shaky, glasses slipping down your nose. âY-youâre serious?â
He tilted his head, grin wicked. âDo I look like Iâm joking? Iâm hard as fuck, sweetheart. And youâre the one who got me here. Time to learn how to take responsibility.â
Your pulse thundered. âI mean⊠I have studiedââ
That made him laugh, sharp and incredulous. âStudied? Porn doesnât count as homework.â
âIt does!â you snapped, cheeks flaming. âI watched different kindsâhand placement, tongue pressure, deep-throating techniques. I even read a blog!â
His jaw dropped. Then he smirked, fangs flashing. âNo fucking way⊠youâre deadass serious.â
You adjusted your glasses, stubborn. âI told youâI want to be good for my future boyfriend.â
That made something ugly twist in his chest. His smile sharpened, hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. âFuture boyfriend, huh? Then I guess I better make sure youâre trained right.â He leaned in, teeth grazing your ear. âSay it. Say youâll be in my care.â
Your throat bobbed. âIâll⊠be in your care.â
âDeal.â He kissed you once, filthy and fast, before leaning back, undoing his belt with one hand. His cock sprang free, thick and curved, precome already slicking the head. He stroked it lazily, eyes locked on yours. âCâmere, scientist.â
You slid off his lap onto your knees between his spread thighs, heart hammering. The cramped fitting room reeked of sex and his cologne.
âFirst rule,â he murmured, guiding your chin up with his thumb. âNo teeth. Curl your lips over them.â
You opened your mouth obediently, demonstrating. He grinned. âGood girl. Tongue out.â
You did, pink and trembling. He pressed the fat tip of his cock against it, groaning low when your tongue curled around the slick head.
âFuck. Already feels too good.â His hand rested at the back of your head. âNowâsuck.â
You did, lips closing around him, cheeks hollowing just like youâd practiced on your fingers. He groaned, head tipping back against the stall wall. âHoly shit. You really watched tutorials, didnât you?â
You pulled off with a wet pop, adjusting your glasses with spit-slick fingers. âI told you. Iâm not cluelessâI just need practice.â You stroked him once, slow and clinical, eyes narrowed in concentration. âVeins⊠thicker near the base. Girth consistent. Curvature slightâupward. Probably hits deep.â
Sunghoon nearly choked. âAre youâare you cataloging my dick like a fucking lab report?â
You hummed, distracted, giving his head a curious lick. âTextureâs softer here. And tasteâsalty. Not bad, though.â
He laughed, broken, shoving his hand into his hair. âYouâre out of your goddamn mind. And itâs turning me on so bad I might lose it.â
You smiled sweetly before sinking down further, taking more of him into your mouth. His thighs tensed, a raw curse spilling from his lips.
âGodâfuckâyouâre a natural.â His hips twitched up despite himself, cock sliding deeper into your throat. âYou like this, huh? Getting me hard, breaking me in. Acting all shy, but sucking me off like youâve been waiting your whole life to experiment on a real dick.â
Your eyes watered as you tried to take him deeper, gagging softly, but you pressed on, curious, determined. You pulled back, drool stringing from your lips, then stroked him with both hands while catching your breath.
âCan I⊠see how it feels when it gets harder inside my mouth?â you asked, wide-eyed, like a student requesting an extra credit assignment.
He almost came right there. âSweetheart, youâre gonna kill me.â
You slid him back in, slower this time, tongue swirling around the fat head before pushing down until he hit the back of your throat. He groaned, guttural, hand gripping your hair tight.
âFuck. No fucking way. This is your first time?â His voice cracked. âYouâre unreal. Youâre⊠fuck, youâre mine.â
Your eyes sparkled up at him behind fogged glasses, spit running down your chin as you bobbed your head, hands twisting around the rest of his shaft. His breath was ragged, legs spread wide, jaw slack.
Every move, every lick, every sloppy sound in that tiny fitting room made him throb harder, his stomach tightening as he tried not to cum too soon.
âLesson three,â he panted, chest heaving, eyes glazed. âYouâre passing with flying fucking colors.â
You hollowed your cheeks harder, sloppy and focused, while your glasses slid further down your nose. Sunghoon was practically whimpering now, hips jerking despite his effort to hold still.
âShitâbaby, slow downâfuckââ His voice cracked, hand tangled in your hair. âYouâre sucking me like you wanna drain my soul.â
You pulled back with a wet pop, spit clinging from your lips to the fat head. Breathing heavy, you adjusted your glasses with spit-slick fingers and mumbled matter-of-factly, âNoâIâm just⊠testing suction strength. Seeing how it changes the reaction.â
His jaw dropped. He let out a wild laugh, shaky and wrecked. âSuction strength? Sweetheart, youâre insane.â
âAnd lubrication levels,â you added sweetly, stroking him with both hands before bending down again to lap at his slit. âSalinityâs stronger now. Must be pre-ejaculate.â
âHoly fuckââ he hissed, thighs flexing. âStop narrating before I blow in your face.â
But you didnât stop. You took him deeper this time, gagging once before relaxing your throat, determined. His cock throbbed heavy against your tongue, and the sound he madeâhalf-growl, half-moanâwas feral.
âFuck, youâre gonna make meââ His head thudded against the wall, breath ragged. âSweetheart, Iâm gonna cum. Swallow it, yeah?â
You hummed around him, eyes wide and curious, and that was it. His whole body jerked, hand clamping down in your hair as hot spurts flooded your mouth.
âFuuuckâ!â The sound ripped out of him, guttural, broken. He came hard, chest heaving, cock twitching between your lips as you dutifully swallowed, eyes fluttering shut.
It was messy, too much, some slipping past your lips and dripping down your chin. You pulled back at last, licking your lips with a thoughtful little hum, and pushed your glasses up.
âThe consistency was thicker than I expected,â you murmured, breathless, âThe taste⊠a bit salty, bitter edge, but manageable⊠Not that bad.â
He stared at you, sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, completely undone. âThatâsâfuckingâcrazy,â he wheezed, then burst into a laugh. âI swear to god, Iâve never cum that hard in my life. Being so much of a natural⊠fuck, should illegal.â
The look on your face finishes him, that's a satisfying expression of your dedication, it's endearing, and, giving too much to think about at the same time.
âHereâŠâ He lands you his water bottle, smoothing your hair. "How about getting out of here?"
You nod, both knowing what does follow...
You scurry into the restroom, splash water on your face, adjust your glasses. Your pulse is still sprinting, thighs already trembling. When you step out, heâs thereâleaning against the wall, arms crossed, smirk sharp as a blade.
âReady for the next lesson?â His gaze drags slow over your body, predatory. Your stomach flips violently.
Heâs supposed to be your experimentâbut why does it feel like youâre the one on the table? You tug at your skirt, trying to sound in control. âJ-just so you know, I sent my location to my friends.â
âPerfect,â he deadpans. âWant me to text your mom too?â That low chuckle follows, warm and dangerous. Before you can answer, he snatches your phone, yanks you close, andâclickâsnaps a selfie with you crushed against him
âEvidence,â he smirks. âIn case they need to ID your warden.â
âH-hey!â you snatch your phone back, cheeks blazing. He only laughs harder at your angry little face, like youâre some cute lab rat fighting the cage.
And yet, you still follow him, heat pooling low, legs shaky. His hand slides into yours without asking.
âY-you donât need to hold my hand. Iâm not that inexperiencedâŠâ you mumble.
âWhat if I want to?â he shoots back smoothly, thumb brushing your knuckles like he owns you.
By the time you reach his apartment, your pulse is chaos. Itâs too close to campusâwhat if you ran into him again on a normal morning? That thought alone makes you lightheaded.
Inside that big apartment, he shrugs off his shoes with lazy confidence. âRoommates,â he mutters, pointing at doors. âBut not here tonight, so don't worry."
Then heâs in front of you again, brushing your hair back, kissing your neck. You flinchânot away, but toward. The hunger in him is contagious.
âYouâre ready for this lesson,â he murmurs, hand sliding your waist, kissing again. âBy the time weâre done,â he kiss âyouâll be begging me for more.â
He guides you to the couch. You perch on his lap, testing, then lean down to kiss his neck. âGuys like this, right?â
He chuckles, low and rough. âYeah. Keep going.â
Your shy kisses become bolder, little licks, small suctions. He tilts his head back, groaning. Then his mouth finds yoursâhungry, messy, tongue sliding in, teaching you how to move, how to take.
And suddenly, youâre grinding. Moaning into his mouth, tugging his shirt. He growls, biting your lip.
âYouâre a natural,â he rasps, flipping you down onto the couch, skirt pushed high. His hand cups your soaked pussy over your panties. âFuck. Look at youâso wet I could drown. God, Iâd ruin you if you werenât a virgin.â
âHoonââ you whine, hips chasing his fingers as he teases your clit.
âShh,â he smirks, slipping one thick finger past your panties. You gasp, legs shaking.
He circles your clit, then adds another finger, stretching you. Youâre panting, glasses slipping again.
âItâs⊠nghâtight,â you moan, clutching his shoulders. âLike⊠like calibrating equipment past capacityâf-fuckââ
He barks a laugh, biting your ear. âOnly you would compare my fingers to lab gear while Iâm knuckle-deep in your cunt.â
âData collection is important!â you whimper as he pumps faster, curling into your sweet spot.
âYouâre crazy,â he groans, voice wrecked. âAnd youâre gonna make me cum just listening to your nerdy little moans.â
By the third finger, youâre a trembling mess, juices leaking down his hand. He stares, hypnotized. âChrist. Youâre so fucking wet. Youâreââ he cuts himself off, thrusting harder until your hips spasm.
âF-fuck! Hoonâit feels so strangeâlikeâlike pressure in a vacuum chamberâahâ!â
He slaps his hand over your mouth before you can shout more nonsense, laughing darkly. âYouâre insane,â he growls, rutting against the couch beneath you. âBut god, that's such a fucking turn on.â
And when you lick his palm with a daring stare, his eyes flash feral. âOh, sweetheart⊠Now youâve really fucked up.â
For a second, he freezes. Then his whole body jolts like you just set him on fire.
âFuck.â His voice is hoarse, unhinged. âYouâre gonna drive me insane, you know that?â He thrusts his fingers deep one more time, making you jolt, his cock grinding hard against your thigh through his jeans.
The room feels like itâs pulsingâyour breath, his, the wet sound between your legs. Youâre a wreck beneath him, flushed and trembling, skirt bunched up around your waist.
He wants to fuck you here. Right now. Raw, messy, hard. The thought makes his jaw lock, his cock twitch painfully against the zipper.
But, no.
Not like this. Not on a couch where his roommates watch TV. Not when youâre still shyly tugging your glasses up, biting your lip like youâre not sure if this is a dream.
He pulls his fingers out, slick and glistening, and wipes them on his thigh. You whine at the sudden emptiness, making his chest ache.
âwe're moving to the room,â he mutters, grabbing you suddenly, lifting you onto his lap bridal-style. Your squeal muffles against his neck.
âHoon! Wh-what arââ
âShut up.â His voice is ragged, softer but still commanding. âBefore I fuck you on this couch and make you scream loud enough for the whole building.â
Your arms circle his neck instinctively. The heat of his body, the sharp thump of his heartâit makes your own pulse trip. He carries you down the short hall, kicking his bedroom door shut with his foot.
When he lays you down on the bed, itâs almost careful. Almost reverent. He stares at you a moment, chest heaving, cock straining painfully under his jeans.
God, youâre so fucking beautiful. Glasses and hair messy, lips kiss-swollen. A virgin. His virgin for thenight. The thought claws through his head with a vicious thrill: Iâll be the first. Fuck, why not keeping her around⊠No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to see you fall apart like that.
He kneels over you, brushing hair back from your face. His eyes burn, but his voice softens.
âHey,â he murmurs, thumb grazing your cheek. âYou really sure about this? You want me?â
Your breath catches. You nod quickly, and probably too much. âY-yes. I want⊠you⊠I want to know. A-and you? Youâre fine with me?.â
His chest tightens. God it's the first a girl asks... And that shy determination⊠You donât even realize how much itâs undoing him.
âFuck,â he whispers breath heavier; forehead still resting against yours lips grazing yours. âYou donât get it, sweetheart. Iâve wanted this since the second you pulled me into that damn fitting room.â His laugh is broken, breathless.
The way you look at him with pure happiness, it destroys his brain's chemistry. It's like something inside him snaps at that
âHey⊠Actually⊠I donât like to share. If I start this⊠youâre mine. Got it? You'll only come to me, okay?â
Your lips part, not fully understanding the real implications. But maybe he didn't eitherâŠ
âO-okay⊠Yours.â
He kisses you, sweet for a second, then rougher, deeper, tongue sliding against yours like heâs starving. His hips rut against your thighs, the thick press of his cock making you whimper.
But still, when he finally tugs his jeans down and rolls the condom on with hands that arenât quite steadyâfingers slick, breath shallowâ and for a stupid second you watch him. The sight of him that close, all exposed and impossible, makes your stomach flip into a delicious panic.
So thatâs what sex is like.
âLast chance, baby. Tell me no, Iâll stop. Tell me yesâŠâ His cock nudges your entrance, your wetness smearing his fat head. His eyes lock on yours, voice breaking into a groan. âTell me yes, and Iâll make you feel everything.â
You watch his dick almost twitching and slowly nod, meeting his eyes hiding behind his wrecked bang.
You donât think, you donât overweigh risks or what-ifs. You just nod, voice small and immediate. âYes. Do it.â
He slides forward, slow as a risky test, the condom-smoothed head nudging the slick seam of you. You suck in a breath that shudders the whole bed. The first inch is exquisite pressure, like a new geometry. Your body clenches, a reflex, and he freezes, hands bracing on either side of your head.
âBreathe with me,â he orders softly. âPush back. Let me in.â
You do. You breathe like an experiment : slow counts, measured. The head parts you, the stretch is a hot, bright line that travels up into your abdomen. Itâs like opening a valve, like fitting two mismatched parts and watching the seal click in place.
âOkay,â you whimper, breath hitching. âItâs⊠full. Likeâlike a piston sliding into a chamber. Pressure buildingâohâFuck.â
His laugh is a low, feral sound. âYou compare my cock to machinery now?â His thumb rubs the spot beneath your lip, gentle so it lulls your fear into need. âGood. Good. Talk to me. Tell me how it feels.â
Your glasses slip down your nose as your back arches, eyes glazed but sharp with that maddening curiosity. âItâs frictionâheat transfer, like velocity meeting resistance. Every time you push deeper, the pressure increasesâGodâitâs like Iâm going to combustââ
Sunghoon groans, the sound caught between hunger and disbelief. âFuckâyouâre⊠insane. Youâre giving me a lab report while Iâm inside youââ His hips jerk harder, unable to stop, his cock grinding against your slick walls like heâs proving your own theory. âKeep going. Donât you dare stop talking.â
Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging red down his back. âYour girthâitâs stretching myâtoo fastâhahâmy bodyâs not calibââ
He lets out a cracked laugh, forehead pressed to yours, sweat beading at his temple. âCalibrated? Jesus fucking Christ. You know how hot you sound right now? Maybe just to me thoâFuckâŠ
Youâre clenching around me like youâre about to break my cock in half.â
You whimper, legs trembling as you hook them tighter around his waist. âBecause itâsâahâitâs like tensile strength. Your dick is the load and Iâmâfuckâthe material failingââ
Sunghoon loses it. Absolutely lose it. His teeth sink into your neck, groaning into your skin. âYouâre killing me, sweetheart. Do you get that? Youâre fucking killing me.â
His thrusts turn reckless, piston-fast, his control shredded by the filthy poetry of your brain. He flips you tighter under him, pressing you into the couch cushions until your ribs can feel his weight, his chest sliding against your sweat-slick skin. His mouth crashes against yours, tongue relentless, kissing like heâs trying to swallow the words you keep throwing at him.
Melting pressing, his entire body bearing down, cock buried to the hilt, pulse synced to yours. Every time he slams in, the sound is obscene, wet, unignorable.
You cry out, broken syllables. âYeah?â he growls, lips smearing spit and curses over your jaw. âThen fucking combust for me. Ruin my cock with your tight little cunt.
Your orgasm rips through you, your body clamping, spasming around him. His thrusts grow jagged, frantic, until heâs groaning your name like a curse, hips grinding into one last deep press as if he could brand you from the inside.
He doesnât let you catch your breath. He slams in again, harder, rhythm gone savage, each thrust steals the air from your lungs. Your world narrows to the wet squeeze around him, the slap of skin, the ragged chorus of your voices. You keep talking, breathless and ridiculous and deliciously analytical.
âItâsâdynamicâohâevery stroke is increasing the shearâyour angleâhits my cervix differentlyâHoonââ you babble, voice cracking into a moan.
He swears, a sound thatâs half-curse, half-pleasure. âDonât stop. Say it again. Sunghoon. Say my name.â His hand grips your thigh, knuckles white. The other hand fans out across your chest, pinning you to him; his weight flattens you deliciously into the mattress. Heâs heavy, hot, immovable: a literal melting press: chest to chest, thigh to thigh, breath mingling, sweat slicking where your skin meets his.
You oblige. âSunghoon! It-it feelsâlike a shear waveâoh Godâyour shaftâfills my entireâSunghoonââ
That filthy, scientific cadence does something to him; it strips whatever polite restraint he had left. His thrusts stutter and then speed, violent and demanding, like a man trying to bury every doubt with his body. He starts to chatter between grunts, low and animal: how you fit, how your walls clamp, how you make him lose himself.
âFuckâyou'r tightâŠ,â he breathes, each word a hammer. His hips piston, harder, harder, harder. âMineâŠâ The condom creaks, slick with precum and your wetness. You can feel him twitching, knotted, the telltale quickening in his breath and the way his jaw clenches.
You keep meeting each brutal thrust, your nails scoring his back, breath ragged. Your next orgasm builds and builds jagged, then tidal and you fall apart around him again, muscles spasming, body convulsing. You cry his name until itâs a raw chant. He answers by burying himself deeper, angling to hit that one sweet spot that makes you cry out with something that sounds half-pleasure, half-pain.
The coil in him snaps. First a shudder, then a hot, loud release pressed deep into the condom. You taste it salt and heat against your clit where his pelvis slams into you. He lets out a guttural, broken sound as he spills, chunk after heavy chunk, thick and hot. The condom swells; the movement of his hips milks him, each convulsive thrust driving him over the edge again and again until his body goes slack on top of you.
Instead of pulling away, he collapses fully, mapping you with heavy, hot kisses : forehead, temple, the corner of your mouth, like a man whoâs marking ground. His breath hitches against your ear. âYou did that,â he murmurs into your hair, âYou made me lose it...â
Even while his heart is hammering and his breath is ragged, thereâs a tremor of tenderness. He presses you closer into the press of his chest, melts his weight into you so that you feel him settle. Not away, not finished, but folded over you like a promise. You can feel the condom still hot and thick between you; his cock softens, then twitches again, spent and sated.
âOkay,â he breathes after a long minute, thumb sliding across your cheekbone, gentle and almost reverent. âYou okay, scientist?â His feral edge is softened by care now, possessive, and weirdly protective. The ferocity hasnât left, but itâs braided with something softer, as if the animal in him finally remembered heâs holding something precious and inexperienced. Past tenseâŠ
You laugh, breathy, half-crying pleasure and disbelief. âIâthink so. I'mâ apparently good at it, soâŠâ You grin up at him, dizzy and sticky.
He huffs a laugh, then presses one more kiss to the center of your forehead, heavy and claiming. âPretty good, yeah. Weâll write a paper on this later, nerdy.â
You tuck your face into his neck as he stays pressed on you, heavy and warm, and suddenly you're not here anymore.
then the room tilts and youâre somewhere else: under a blanket, clutching a cushion, groggy and half-sane.
Blinking, you register him half blurred: shirtless, hair a mess, that stupid grin still stitched into his face, and your glasses on him.
heâs propped on his elbow, the crumpled page â your precious syllabus â pinched between two fingers and waved like a trophy above his head. He studied it like a recipe.
Panic spikes. You lunge for it, fingers scrabbling, face flaming. He jerks the list out of reach and springs up, laughing at your pathetic grab. â What, regretting your silly little paper?â
Your brain short-circuits mid-answer when you realize youâre naked. Blanket becomes your superhero cape. You yank it up, clutching it like armor.
He rolls his eyes, low and amused. âWhat? Suddenly shy? I already saw everything, sweetheart.â He tucks the list behind his ear and sits up straighter, eyes bright and a little hungry. âBut since weâre doing fieldwork, we might as well run through the catalog.â
He starts reciting like a child reciting a poem : "Kissing good: done, Missionary, already checked. Head, done. Cowgirl (want to control the rhythm). Reverse cowgirl (same, but with a view he might like). Doggy (a bit scary but guys seem to like it). Standing against the wall. Spooning. Lap-sit (seems like fun). 69?? Edge of bed, rims, chai⊠Fuck this shit so long I canât remember anything.â
You stare at him, incredulous and wet and weirdly ashamed at your own curiosity. âYou⊠You memorized my list?â you squeak.
âYou gave me a syllabus,â he says, that half-joke smile slipping into something softer. âI studied.â
âWhich one do you wanna try, now?â he asks, dangerous and patient, the grin in his voice.
You feel heat pooling so fast itâs almost hysterical. Your mouth goes dry. You cock your head, play dumb in the cutest way you can manage, because nothing about this is small anymore. âUm⊠can I⊠let's just do whatâs next on the listâŠâ you say barely a whisperâpart permission, part trying to look uninterrested.
Something flickers in him : surprise. Then a slow, almost cruel hunger. The way he exhales is a little like victory. âCan you Cowgirl?â he answers, voice low. âYou sure? Because if youâre on top, Iâllââ He leans across the bed and kisses you then, soft and testing at first, lips warm and patient âGo crazy about you.â
He moves with intention after the kiss, crawling back until his knees meet the mattress edge and he tilts himself like a willing platform. You swing a leg over, straddle him, and the world narrows to the slick press between your thighs and the press of his hands at your hips. You test the weight, your pelvis finding his, his cock is a hot line pressed to your center, damping his grey sweatpant.
âOkay,â he breathes, thumbs drawing slow circles on your hipbones. âRide me. Control it. Show me what you learned.â
Sunghoon pants are gone and he adjusts your glasses on his own face, peering down at you with that wolfish grin. âDamn. I look like the hottest nerd alive, huh?â He chuckles, pushing them up his nose in mock seriousness. âReady for professorâs lessons, sweetheart?â
You groan, reaching for them, but he dodges and kisses you instead, hard, tongue taking, making you melt even as he smirks into it. When he finally slides them back onto your nose, he murmurs, âYou cute. Rather have my little scientist were them will riding my cock.â
He watches your face like a man cataloguing the best thing heâs ever seen: the way your eyes close when you push your hips down, fumbling with your balance. You slip squeaking, nearly topple forward, and he smiles, fangs out, holding you steady by the hips. The sounds you let out when you catch that angle and it sears through you. Possessive thoughts flicker in his headâthis, this first, this messy worshipâand they make his hands possessive, his voice rougher.
âYou feel so good,â he pants, fingers digging little notches into your sides. âFuck, look at you. So dedicated. Show me what you learned.â
âForâcowgirl, y-you keep a steady rhythmâ adjust the angle for clitoral friction, andâohââ You gasp mid-sentence as his cock shifts inside you with a roll of your hips too fast. His eyes rolls back. You cup his face and kiss him hard, and he answers by pulling you down closer.
âShit. Keep going... I love it when you study meâŠâ
You lean back and ride him like you mean it, hips slamming, the bed squealing with every obscene, wet sound you both make. He grabs your waist, anchors you, thrusts up into you with measured force, and when he catches your eye his grin is feral and soft at the same instant.
âYeah?â he hisses. âYou like being on top, scientist?â
You nod, half gone. But soon his gaze drops lower, locked onto your bouncing breasts. He groans like heâs losing composure, hands cupping them, kneading them, thumbs brushing your nipples and pinching.
You whimper at him, rocking faster. âWait, hoonâŠâ
He looks at you with sudden so much sweetness.
ââReverse cowgirl?â You propose.
His eyes snap with starry feral eyes. âYou wanna flip around on me, love?â
âWill you⊠like it? LikeâDo guys like being ridden like that?â you ask, voice timid but curious, with your glasses slipping.
He exhales like heâs about to combust. âSweetheartâfuckâyes. Guys love it. Do it. Show me your research.â
You turn, clumsy again, but when you sink down facing away, ass grinding into him, his grip slams onto your hips. âOhhh fuuuck. Look at youâriding me like thisâfuck, baby.â His voice breaks, all growl, all worship. He pounds up into you, losing it, hand sliding down your back to yank your hair so you arch perfectly.
Thenâ
click.
The faint sound of the apartment door opening. Only Sunghoon knows the origins of these sounds, of those particularly soft footsteps in the back trying to be discreet as going to the room next to sunghoonâs. His body stiffens knowing whoâs here, a sharp jolt of possessive heat flooding his chest, knowing exactly who it is. Even if he wonât admit any. In the next second, he grabs you, pulls you down.
âChange of lesson, sweetheartâ he whispered, voice rough, dragging you onto all fours. âDoggy. Now.â You blink, startled, but obeying, heart hammering. He slides back in, knocking a cry out of you. His hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your arch.
âWhen guys do this,â he pants, fucking into you with sharp, deliberate thrusts, âthey go harder. Just to hear you scream how good it is, to make you clench, ok? Be a good girl. Do so.â
Your moans tumble, ragged. He caresses your ass, âIâll give you smacks, if you donât like it tell me to stop, âk?.â And he smacks your ass, groaning at the recoil. âArch more, baby.â And you do. âFuckâyeah. Thatâs so sexy.â smacks!
He bends close, lips dragging across your ear. âSay my name, tell me your things.â smack!
Youâre gasping, but you try anyway, brain short-circuiting into nerdy chaos. âS-Sunghoonâah!âyour angleâperfect axialâpenetrationââ
He snarls, slamming harder. âGood girl. Keep going.â
You babble more, ridiculous and filthy, every word driving him insane. âOh godâthe depthâideal forââ
He cuts you off with another brutal snap of his hips. âStop, Imma lose it. Noâfuck itâdonât. Youâre mine. Say it.â
You whimper his name âS-sunghoon,â your body spasms around him, âSunghoon,â and thatâs all it takes. His thrusts go messy, desperate, until heâs spilling inside the condom with a groan that rattles your bones. He stays there, chest crushing your back, sweaty, panting. Then softer, pressed into your hair: âI really⊠I really like you, nerdy.â
When morning comes, youâre gone. The sheets are cold, the blanket half on the floor, and Sunghoon wakes to nothing but the faint smell of your lotion on his sheets.
It makes him smile â a sharp, private little grin. Especially when he rolls over and finds your bra underneath him like some kind of trophy.
âCute,â he mutters, twirling the strap around his finger. Then he props it on his chest, snaps a photo â half-smirk, half-dare.
âGonna drop by to have it? Or should I bring it to you?â
You see the notification later, heart stalling. You throw your phone into your bag and ignore it. At least until afternoon. Then until the day after, the week. Leaving him on read would be the insulting thing⊠partly out of pride, partly because every time you think about it you start overheating.
But then campus came.
You almost convince yourself youâve forgotten him, or at least that youâre going to try â that youâre going to be the sensible girl who doesnât run into the sex you had in a cramped apartment chilling on the quad. Then you see him, because of course you see him: lounging against the railing outside the lecture hall as if the sun itself had decided to take a cigarette break and recline there, and he has a paper bag dangling from one finger like a little flag of ownership.
No way⊠No fucking way, please, God, you think, and the sentence dies in your throat because the sight of him makes your stomach flip so violently you almost lose your footing. The bag swings, and you understand instantly.
You storm toward him, cheeks loud with heat, and snatch the bag back into your arms with the practiced discretion of someone trying to look natural while falling apart. âAre you insane?â you hiss, breathless and more than a little ridiculous.
His grin is wicked, teeth catching the sun. âWhat? I wanted to make sure my favorite freshman didnât lose her⊠essentials.â He draws the last word out slow, like heâs tasting it, like heâs cataloguing you anew. He studies you the way someone inspects a specimen: your glasses crooked, your shoulders caught in that small, defensively brave curl; you look like you want to run and you also look like you shouldnât be allowed to. âBesides,â he adds, the smile widening, âyou look good when you panic.â
âShut upâŠâ you hiss, tugging your glasses up. Your face burns hotter than the noon sun. âYouâre gonna ruin mââ
âSenior privileges,â he interrupts. His tone dips smug, eyes glinting. âDidnât know Iâm your sunbae? Guess youâll be seeing a lot more of me.â
Your chest drops. âYouâre⊠my senior?â The disbelief on your face is almost theatrical. With your luck, it was to be expected â lucky you he wasnât a professor, or someone you actually have to meet outside parties, reunions, and maybe clubs.
Nothing could be worseâŠ
âMm.â He tugs your tote strap lightly, fingers brushing your wrist like itâs nothing. But the way his eyes fix on you? Itâs everything. Possessive. Dangerous. âWhich means youâre mine to mentor. AcademicallyâŠâ His smirk curves, feral. ââŠand otherwise.â
Your pulse is a drum in your ears when the universe adds another curveball. âYo, Hoon!â
Remember that moment you thought it couldnât be worse? Yeah, actually it could.
Ice runs down your spine as you immediately recognize that one accent of a fantasy. You turn, and thereâs Jake: bright grin, casual wave, his hair bleached to that blond he decided to wear after he lost a dare and you manifested for him to lose. Yeah, basically your freaking Jake â the one you built your whole stupid list around, after hearing so much of his experiences from his exes.
He jogs the last few steps, and Sunghoon doesnât even blink. He fist-bumps Jake, sliding smoothly into the role of cool roommate. âWhatâs up, man?â
âOh, neighbor!â Jake notices you, a bit surprised, but throws his arm around your shoulder like itâs the most natural thing in the world. âLucky me! I brought you my old books â donât mind the doodles, okay?â Your heart lurches at the sudden warmth of his touch, and Sunghoon can only notice. His jaw flexes once, the only tell. But suddenly Jake looks between you two for a second too long, easygoing as ever. âWait â you guys know each other?â
You open your mouth, but Sunghoon beats you to it, smooth as oil. âMet her on campus, my section fresh meat.â His fingers brush the braâs bag, thumb stroking once like a reminder for your heart.
Jake laughs, oblivious. âAhh, damn⊠worldâs small. Sheâs my neighbor. We, like, grew up side by side, yâknow? Sheâs basically like a little sister, bro.â He ruffles your hair lightly; his grin is soft. Your jaw tightens.
Sunghoonâs smirk doesnât move, but he drifts closer to you. âLittle sister my ass.â
Jake claps him on the back. âSheâs a good kid, lucky you! My juniors are⊠yeah⊠Since youâre her senior, take real good care of her, man. Iâm counting on you.â
âDonât worry.â Sunghoonâs voice drops, velvet but edged, eyes never leaving you. âI already am.â
Your world implodes.
Jake chuckles, missing the weight in his tone, and moves the conversation along. But you feel your phone vibrating as the three of you start walking :
Ice-Hoon : Youâre mine, sweetheart. Whether he knows it or not. Yet.
Sunghoon....
MASTERLIST
AUTHOR'S NOTE â Finallyyy another release!! Gosh, I wanted to post it sooner but I figured itâs better this way so you guys donât have to wait too long for the next drop for Spooktober and the official start of my new series!!
Also⊠I totally got distracted by all the fics Iâve been reading lately (theyâre SO good Iâm like âwhy do I even write, mine are nothing special lolâ đ).
Still, special French kissies to my wives @chibi-rach & @w2hoonki who make my heart beat so fast đđ Hereâs a silly little gift for you đđ
summary: Desperate for a cheap place to stay, you become roommates with the cruel, sadistic Yunho who loves pushing your buttons.
word count: 1.4k
warnings: degration, humiliation, yunho is kinda a mean bully in this
a/n: I hope mean yunho makes you feel something
Yunho smacks your coffee out of your hand, sending the mug crashing to the floor. It shatters instantly against the kitchen tile and you jump, barely avoiding being burned by the hot liquid.
"What was that for!?" You yell at him while he smirks at you. To put it simply, you hated Yunho. You needed some cheap housing right away and this apartment with your roommate, seemed like a blessing. But as soon as you laid eyes on him, you instantly regretted it. Yunho always looked smug, eyeing you like you were his personal play toy. He loves picking on you, seeing you suffer is his favorite hobby. And, unbeknownst to you, it turns him on a little.
Just like how he was now.
You stomp your foot and ball your fists, feeling the anger take over. "Awww is the baby angry at me? What is she gonna do about it?~" He mocks you, stepping over the mess, caging you against the kitchen counter with his body. He eyes you up and down, focusing on your neck and collarbones briefly. What the hell was this guy's problem? A part of you is ready to throttle him, but you urged yourself to remember the great deal you got on this beautiful place, and let it go.
You relax your fists and push past him, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He's not worth it.
"Tsk. And here I thought things were about to get interesting." He mutters to himself before settling back into his room, leaving you alone to clean the mess.
---
Later that night, the beautiful man you met at the coffee shop, Hongjoong, texts you. He was polite, handsome, and super sweet. Basically the opposite of your demonic roommate. He approached you first and asked for your number, which you did not hesitate to hand over.
Now here you were happily texting him on the couch. You laid on your stomach, feet up in the air kicking in glee. The conversation was getting flirty and you couldn't help but feel like you were floating in the clouds.
Until the rain showed up. "Hey stupid girl why are you smiling at your phone so much?" He tries to antagonize you, but Hongjoong's next message has you blushing so hard you can't even hear Yunho.
Your eyes are glued to the selfie he just sent you. In the picture he's fresh out of the shower, his skin still glistening from the steam while a white towel hangs dangerously low on his hips, his v line apparent. The conversation was heating up quickly and you eagerly typed a response. It was fun until you heard an irritating voice from over your shoulder.
"Awww is the dumb baby horny?Hey, is he a cam boy or something?" Yunho mocks you again, this time with his voice low, his lips lightly brushing against your ear while his eyes were fixed to your phone screen.
You jolt and sit upright. "No! He's actually a guy I met earlier." You say angrily. Yunho raises an eyebrow, snatching the device to get a better look. He stares at the photo for a bit and scrolls through your conversation with Hongjoong, laughing to himself. You crawl onto his lap and try to grab your phone back.
He pushes you away effortlessly with one hand while he starts reading aloud. "'You're so hot, you look like a sculpture'." Yunho cackles. "You clearly don't know what you're doing idiot, you sound so desperate." He laughs more while you keep trying to get into his lap to get the phone. At this point, your face is bright red. He's right, but you weren't going to admit it. "Maybe I should answer him for you~" He says deviously while his fingers hover over the keyboard. Having had enough of his teasing, you lunge at him, knocking the phone out of his hand while also slapping him across the face accidentally.
The room gets scarily silent as his cheek reddens with your hand print. "I-I'm so sorry Yunho I didn't mean to-" You start. Yunho's eyes darken, but not with anger, with lust. When he finally speaks, it sends a chill down your body. "Do it again." He dares you breathlessly. "What?" You question and scramble to get off of him, but he's quick to pull you back onto his lap.
"You can't slap me again, can you? Is my baby afraid of me?" He grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. You squirm trying to get out of him grasp, brushing your bottom against his crotch in the process. He groans and you blush, feeling his hard cock under you. "God what am I going to do with you? I have a dumb baby that can't tell that she's about to make me burst in my pants." He groans. This time, you can't hold your whine back, Yunho's words going straight to your core.
He smirks at you again, before bending you over in his lap, his fingers ghosting over your core through your leggings, making you shiver. "I want you to listen carefully to me. I'm going to give you two choices. You can either continue your little conversation with what's-his-name, or you can have my cock inside you right now and I'll fuck you dumb." By now, you can barely focus on Yunho's options, you're too desperate for some kind of friction. So much so, that you shamelessly brush up against his hand.
A soft cry slips out of your lips as you roll your hips against his hand. Yunho moans, but keeps still, waiting for your permission. "I forgot who I'm speaking to for a second. A dumb girl who is desperate for cock." He hisses at you. But despite his harsh words, you can't help but feel your core throb as if you liked the way he was speaking to you. Finally, you feel your reasoning fade and give into your desires.
"I choose you." You look up at him through your lashes and he grins. "Good girl." It's the first praise he's ever given you, but you can't dwell on it long before he starts undressing you. Once you're completely naked in his lap he finally gives your core the attention it deserves. Sparks fly and heat builds as he inserts two fingers in roughly, pounding your heat. Your moans and whines echo through the apartment, but you can't help but feel embarrassed having Yunho see you so vulnerable. You tug on his jeans. "Yunho..." You try getting his attention but you're too shy. "Use your words." He says firmly while adding another finger inside you, only making it more difficult.
"I want- I want you to fuck me dumb." You manage to mutter and he wastes no time bending you over the couch's armrest. He props your ass up, spreading you open with his hands to get a better look. In the reflection of the TV, you see him undressing, his thick cock springing free from its confines. His tips is red and angry, highlighting the veins running along it. Yunho pumps it in his fist a few times before plunging it into you, fast and hard not even giving you time to process his actions.
All of your senses are filled with him- his scent, the kisses and bites he leaves on your shoulder, the sound of him pounding into you, his hand firmly placed on your throat holding you in place- it's all too good and you feel yourself tearing up. "Aww is my baby going to cry? Cause she's too full? Well that's too bad because she looks so pretty stuffed like this." Yunho picks up a faster pace, making sure to press as deep as he can at the end of every thrust.
"Yun- I'm gonna, I'm so close-" You desperately pant through glassy eyes. "You should tell Hongjoong that. Tell him that you're too busy taking every inch of me, coming all over my cock to text him back." Yunho says through grunts. With one last whine, you come on his cock. He pulls out of you after you peak, spraying his come all over your ass and down your legs. Yunho admires your wrecked form for a few moments before fixing the sofa and grabbing the clothes off the floor. He picks up your phone too and does something on it before tossing it at you. When you look at it, you realize he blocked Hongjoong, but not before sending one last text:
SYNOPSIS: you've always found working in pairs easier than working by yourself, sharing success or demise with another person was easier than being a loner like most of your colleagues were. but, when your partner in crime dies, you realise just how dangerous the life you're living is, so you try to quit and disappear.
it's not easy leaving the criminal world behind, especially when you're a paid assassin who knows too much about the job and the dark secrets of powerful people. and that's why jaehyun is sent over to find you. and kill you.
PAIRING: paid assassin!jaehyun x paid assassin!reader
FEATURING: aespa's ningning. mentions of nct members.
WORD COUNT: 36k
CONTAINS: survivorâs guilt, jaehyun is very competitive and doesnât like losing. smoking, multiple physical altercations. minor characters' death, mention of gore, wounds, mention of multiple weapons. some characters are described with roles/categories/code names. world building. long descriptive scenes (im sorry), mentions of aggression, paranoia, anxiety and panic. emotional and physical distress. language, smut, oral (male receiving), masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex. miscommunication and misunderstandings. author's note at the end.
NOW PLAYING: goodnight moon by shivaree
SERIES MASTERLIST: HERE!
I. BEIJINGÂ
Youâre not sure how you managed to pack a bag and board a plane. Youâre even less sure of how you managed to escape and leave the continent, and how you made it all the way to Beijing safe and sound. Beijing, thatâs supposed to be your safe space right now, following Ningâs instructions in case something terrible happened and the two of you ended up being split from one another.Â
And indeed, you did end up split up, but not by unexpected circumstances while on a mission, knowing youâll meet each other again after following the plan B she so carefully planned out. You ended up being split by sudden death â hers, to be precise.
Remembering how it went down that day makes your chest heavy and your breath hitches in your throat, tears pricking your eyes. Ning was everything to you, the closest thing to a sister you could get. You trained together, you decided you should be partnered up rather than being on your own, and that meant her giving up being a scorpion just for you. As if she were sensing that something would be going wrong at some point, she made up this plan for a safe escape, yet youâre not sure how safe it is now and if your past decisions will be coming back to bite you. But you try to shake the thoughts away, at least for now, because you need to get to safety as soon as possible.
The streets are busy, and your legs and back are starting to hurt after the long hours spent travelling, not to mention the fact that youâre basically going on autopilot mode since you havenât been able to close an eye and rest during the whole flight. In all honesty, you havenât been able to sleep well in the last few weeks that led up to you quitting your job, and then trying to fly away undetected by your criminal boss and coworkers. Because you were sure he put a bounty on your head, or that he would in the future, anyway. No one has ever heard about anyone quitting the circle and living life like nothing happened, going on with life while planting pansies in the backyard and picking up Italian cuisine cooking lessons. Itâs just not possible.
And, how were you supposed to sleep during your flight, knowing someone could be following you and could eventually kill you? You had to stay alert as much as possible, even if you thought no one sane would actually kill you on a plane, but you had to watch your back for any familiar faces around the plane or airport.Â
Youâre holding Ningâs handwritten instructions, now crumpled in your hands as you hold the piece of paper. You feel like your legs work on their own, and the sleepless days and nights are catching up to you, making you feel exhausted.Â
Managing your sleep time and managing the lack of sleep were part of your training, and it was an important part of your job. Your hands needed to be steady on the firearm you used, your balance needed to be impeccable whenever you were on stag, and nobody could see you faltering while hiding or preparing for an attack. But right now, the lack of sleep is making your mind black out for a bit, as everything around you happens like scenes of a film, and as soon as the director yelled cut! you were back to reality.Â
Thatâs how you gather your bearings as your feet halt suddenly, reaching a secluded part of the neighbourhood Ning wrote down on the paper. The tall buildings are obscuring the street ahead of you, and even if itâs close to noon, it feels like this street has never seen a ray of sunshine. Maybe itâs the lack of sleep, or the lack of appetite that has you feeling weak right now, but a sense of paranoia is working itself up your spine, up to the back of your neck, where the hairs stand up in terror of being followed. You halt your steps, turning around to look for familiar faces, and you hope your brain cells are still working, because this is the time to recognise any suspicious faces that you might or might not know.Â
Except you donât see anyone, so you turn around and start your journey once again. Your muscles hurt, your body is crying to get some food and rest, and thereâs still the pending feeling that something is wrong â that even if you didnât see anyone behind you, something bad is bound to happen.
Following Ningâs plan should be easy, it should be easy to trust her and her judgement, you know she would never betray you, but you canât seem to get rid of that feeling in your gut. What if someone from the circle found out about Ningâs plan, and theyâll be waiting for you at the destination? What if whoeverâs waiting for you there has conspired behind your backs and is hand in hand with your boss so they can get the bounty? You try to shake these thoughts away. Ning would never betray you â youâre sure of this.
Ningâs instructions are clear. You need to take a few turns around maze-like shady alleys that have never seen a ray of sunshine in all their existence. It makes you anxious, nauseous with the unshakable feeling that this is nothing but a trap, that someone is coming to get you as soon as you reach the end of this labyrinth.
Youâre sure that you would never be able to fight back if peril approached you, taking you by surprise. Your senses â that were so sharp just a few weeks ago â are now disoriented and all over the place. The years of training and working as an assassin are suddenly dust in your eyes because youâre too tired and famished to be in your right mind.Â
Nothing makes sense right now, except for Ningâs instructions. You do as she says, you take the right turns, your heart falls to your stomach when a rat creeps out from behind some trash bags by a door, but you go on â tired, itchy eyes scanning the crumpled piece of paper.
You reach the door, green paint flaking off the heavy metal, showing the old blue paint underneath, and you wonder just how many painting jobs this door has gone through. You know whoâs waiting for you on the other side of the door, yet youâre not sure if youâre too late. Perhaps your former boss already bribed them into giving your head on a silver platter â and right now, thereâs nothing you can do. This is a risk you must take, and hopefully it will be for your own good.
You knock on the door, and once again you feel anxiety eating through your chest and stomach. Youâd be at least a little bit more comfortable if you had any kind of weapon with you right now, but you couldnât risk losing precious time around a city youâre not familiar with in order to find some alley gangs willing to sell you illegal weapons.Â
And the lack of weapons might not have been a problem if it weren't for the fact that you are basically exhausted. Your physical training has always been harsh, preparing you for all sorts of encounters and unforeseen circumstances, but you know that right now your precarious state will not be of help.
You hear someone approaching the door, and they open the door slowly, its heaviness making the hinges squeak in a loud echo that reverberates on the long, dark alleyâs filthy concrete walls.
A man looks at you, and he seems to recognise you immediately â as you notice by the look in his eyes. Heâs worried, his eyebrows furrow, probably because he never expected you to be the one showing up at their doorstep. It takes him ten seconds before gesturing for you to walk inside, pushing the heavy door and locking it on the inside as you wait for him in the entry hallway.Â
Thereâs a musty smell, maybe from all the humidity around you, or maybe itâs just the fact that this narrow entryway isnât ventilated at all, but one thing is sure â youâd never wander around this place alone if it weren't for the very specific reason why youâre here now. You just hope you wonât be welcomed with a bullet right in the middle of your forehead as soon as you step into the next room.
The man turns around, barely throwing you a look, and makes a gesture with his head for you to follow him.
Your steps are small and slow. Anxiety is making your inside melt as you keep thinking of all the scenarios that could end up in the wrong way, with almost all of them ending with you in a blood puddle â except for only one, which ends with you greeted by Ningâs grandmother and how sheâd be willing to help you, without your boss already having you and her traced down.
You follow the man, and you enter one of the rooms at the end of the corridor, exhaling with relief as soon as your eyes meet Grandmaâs gaze.
Sheâs surprised, and the look in her eyes lets you know that she wasnât expecting to see you being the one showing up for her help. With the well-curated escape plan Ning and her grandmother had conceived in case of an emergency, Grandma never expected her granddaughterâs partner in crime to be the one showing up at her doorstep. And you understand this, you understand that the tragedy that struck you both is not something that can be taken lightly. You, for one, are still grieving â so you can just imagine just how bad her grandma is feeling. You understand, because after all, if you were to put yourself in her shoes, you wouldnât be elated to see how someone else survived your granddaughter.
âY/n,â she speaks up, calling your name, and her gaze softens seeing just how pale, frightened, and mortified you are.
You let out a sob, and you fall to your knees in front of her approaching figure, with the palms of your hands falling flat on the linoleum floors. Your forehead touches the surface as you place it in the space left between your hands.
âIâm so sorry,â you sob, not having the courage to look up, because crouching in front of a woman whose only grandchild has died is the only acceptable thing to do right now, at least thatâs what you think. âIâm so sorry, Grandma,â you sob once again, and you hear a pair of feet stopping just by your head.
âY/n, look at me,â she instructs, crouching down to pull you off the floor. In other circumstances, you would have bowed to her feet to greet her, your elder, but now youâre crouching out of mortification and shame.Â
Ning should have been here right now, not you.
You look at her, and her facial expression is not giving away whatâs going on inside of her. âY/n,â she calls your name, grabbing you by each side of your face and squeezing your cheeks slightly, with her thumbs wiping your tears from under your eyes, âIs YizhuoâŠâ she trails off, not having it in herself to finish the sentence, yet she knows.
You nod, and your bottom lip starts quivering as your eyes finally look into hers. Theyâre hurt, they lose their sparkle as soon as you confirm her darkest fears have just turned into reality.Â
âEverything will be fine,â she shushes you as soon as you start crying again, and you feel like the scum of the earth for being a crybaby in front of an old woman who just lost the most precious person she had in this whole world. âYouâre safe now,â she hugs you, and her hands wrap around you a little tighter.
âTell me all about Yizhuo,â she instructs as she manages to drag you towards a small table in the corner, âTell me what happened!â
II. THE MOUNTAINS
The day the old man recruited you, he promised you heâd protect you if you accepted being taken under his wing. He promised you heâd take care of you and that you would never lack anything in life. All you had to do was train and become a part of his team.
At that time, the idea sounded amazing. You were young, fresh out of school. A young adult fighting to make her stance clear in the harsh lines of an already well-established society. Young meant impressionable, and the fact that you didnât really have a family to be tied to made it seem like it was the best choice for you at that time.Â
After just a bit over a decade in the industry, you realised you were manipulated into joining these circles, because the old man must have known your background and the fact that you were all by yourself, with nothing to lose â nothing except your life, of course. But again, you were young, you wanted to affirm yourself, and the man spoke to you so beautifully of the life awaiting you, that you couldnât really think about anything else.Â
So you accepted his offer, and next thing you knew, you were in a sturdy jeep, being driven through rocky mountain trails towards the camp where you were supposed to start your training.Â
The camp was huge, with a seemingly abandoned hotel situated in the middle of trees. It made your skin crawl, and it wasnât just the cold mountain air too harsh for you â who had never left the hot city â it was more than that.
There was an eerie vibe to the whole place, and you felt your stomach dropping when the thought of your life being in serious danger crept up on you. And then the two muscle-packed bodyguards who drove you up this mountain instructed you to follow them inside the building.Â
If on the outside the hotel looked abandoned and unkept, the interior made your jaw drop to the floor. Style, luxury, everything was clean and surprisingly so welcoming â you didnât expect the interior to be so different from the external façade, and yet you still felt out of place. You liked the idea of this whole life ahead of you, you liked the promises made to you, and you even liked the obligations that came with agreeing to all this â with putting your life on the line with each mission you were going to take on. But the luxury and the dystopian difference between what welcomed you outside, and the warmth of the inside, made you stop in your tracks a few times as you were escorted to your room.
The old man explained the rules to you, right before you climbed into the jeep that was to take you away to the mountains.
You were going to be training in the mountains for as long as needed. Physical and psychological training sessions were to be taken daily, with a very precise schedule you had to follow to a T.Â
âYouâll be trained by our experts,â the old man explained to you, âThereâs a tough training period you have to follow in order to join the circle, and itâs best if you master the art of all disciplines before the others make an appearance.â
âThe others?â You asked, eyebrows furrowing while looking at your new boss.Â
âThe training camp isnât reserved just for newbies like yourself,â he smiled at you, âThe other members of the clan can join the camp anytime they want, in order to train,â he went on explaining, and you were sure the sickening glint in his eyes was due to a twisted pleasure he had with having everything so planned and disciplined. You knew he was obsessed with always having everything under control, and you couldnât really blame him â not after knowing that he invented this system and the amount of money he was juggling between clients, his assassin agents, and his own pockets.
âYouâll have a code name, but that will only be after our experts assess you and see what youâre best at. You can say your real name to the others in the circle, but youâll learn that your code name will be used most of the time, especially by me when Iâll assign your missions,â he nodded to himself, lost in thought like he was pondering saying what was on his mind or just skipping it.Â
âListen, Y/n,â he started, clicking his tongue, âYouâll learn that the ones inside this circle might not always be your friends, but theyâre your coworkers and you are a team. Youâll always have to trust each other, no matter the grounds.âÂ
âHow long do I have to train before getting a code name?â Your voice was small, but you didnât stutter. Your head was throbbing with all the information you had received, and you felt an incoming headache making your temples tighten.
âDepends on you, kiddo,â he laughed, bringing a glass to his lips, âTraining periods last for as long as needed, depending on your skills.â
Your training sessions were ruthless. Waking up early, you had to go through your first physical training sessions of the day on an empty stomach. After breakfast, meditation followed, with more physical training following suit â not to mention the almost nonexistent breaks, with the first week tuckering you out, almost on the brink of passing out.
You werenât used to this type of training. The intensity of your days made you nauseous, with little appetite, and sometimes just bringing a spoonful of soup to your lips made your muscles hurt. You would have gladly given up your food if you were allowed to do so, but with the strict eyes of the masters? There was actually no chance you could do that. Not when their eyes followed your every movement like vultures, waiting for you to make a mistake so they could discipline you or just make you climb that damned mountain up to the top, as a punishment for not being obedient.Â
You had always been a good fighter â you kicked and punched like you were born to do so, yet one of the masters thought it wasnât your strongest point. Then they made you train with knives, swords, katanas, and while you perfected the art of throwing a knife right in the dummyâs heart and forehead â right in between the eyes â they thought you still didnât find your perfect skill.Â
With your force and lightweight movements, and with the perfect aim, they said you still couldnât fit into one precise category.
âYouâll have to practice on these before completing the training,â the Head Master explained as you were trying to keep your balance on a log, jumping up and down and trying not to fall into the puddle of mud. âIf you fall, you arenât allowed to shower!â He screamed your way.
Saying that you were exhausted was an understatement. Your calves were burning, and your thighs were trembling every single time he made you keep your balance while standing on your tiptoes on that log.Â
You knew you had to be perfect in all fields, and even if knives or physical force werenât your strongest points, you still had to master them. But you also knew that once they found your real talent, that was going to be your category â and then they made the inspired choice to make you work with firearms. Although you did the basic training up until that day, they hadnât made you focus on that discipline until they realised thereâs more to you than kicking stuff and throwing knives.
And that way, you actually found your category. With your perfect aim and quick instincts of a cat, they made you shoot all sorts of firearms, trying to make the perfect sniper out of you.
It was one month into your training period when you came back to the hotel a bit earlier than anticipated. You had spent the entire morning training with a long-range rifle on one of the cliffs, shooting birds and everything moving in your sight â including the propelled props your coaches shot up in the sky with the help of a cannon, for you to take down, â but thankfully you got dismissed earlier.
Walking past the entrance of the lobby, your steps came to a halt when you noticed a small silhouette wandering around, walking towards one of the conference rooms.
âHey,â you spoke up before you could stop yourself, âCan I help you?â You call after the silhouette, and the person flinched after hearing your voice, but turned around nonetheless.
âHi,â she waved your way, small steps approaching you as you stayed unmoving in your spot, drinking from your bottle of water. âIâm here to train,â she told you, but it came out more as a question. âWas told not to share my name just yet, and I donât have a codename, so I donât know how to introduce myself,â she mumbled, placing her hands behind her back.Â
You took a good look at her. She was beautiful. Very long, straight and black hair fell perfectly around her shoulders and figure, and her eyes sparkled, although shy. You were wearing your training gear, and she was sporting some of the most beautiful clothes you had ever seen at that time.Â
The more you looked at her, the more she seemed even more beautiful. Her shyness was adorable, maybe because she was taken by surprise by you full-on interrogating her, but you were genuinely curious who she was since no one had mentioned her up until that point.Â
âI donât have a code name either, at least for now, but itâs just the two of us here right now,â you explained, trying to sound friendly. After being alone on this mountain, it suddenly became hard to talk to other people. âSorry for earlier, didnât mean to sound rude,â you apologised, playing with your bottle of water, âAfter being secluded on this mountain with the monks for one month, I was surprised to see someone new.â
She let out a bark of laughter, showing you a row of pearly white teeth, âThe monks?âÂ
You laughed right back, but you waved your hands around, asking for her to let you explain, âThe masters. I call them monks because it feels like they are, to be honest. And Iâm not allowed to talk to them unless given permission or otherwise theyâll make me climb this mountain,â you explained like that was the most normal thing to have ever happened to you, and the girl in front of you seemed shocked after hearing your words.
âThey give us punishments?â She asked in horror, eyebrows arching worriedly.Â
You gave her a nod, but tried giving her a reassuring smile, âThey do, in all sorts of ways, so look out for that!âÂ
And you tried to reassure your new companion the best you could, walking her around the whole place to let her know your favourite spots, giving her important advice that you would have appreciated if someone welcomed you here when you arrived, the way she found you in the lobby.Â
And she seemed appreciative of all your help and insights. After that day, seeing each other was hard because it was already your second month there, you already fit into one category, and the new girl was just at the beginning of her journey. While your training sessions gradually started being shorter, with you having more free time to yourself or for training on your own, practising whichever skills you wanted, the girl left at dusk and came back late into the night, just like you used to.Â
At some point, you started having your meals down in the lobby, hoping you were going to have her in your sight at least once. Because after spending so much time alone with no one to talk to, knowing there was another person around made your soles tingle, wanting to go out in the woods and look for the spot she was training in.Â
Hectic schedules meant that while you were slashing dummies in some part of the woods, you could hear gunshot sounds reverberate around you in the woods â yet with it being your second month of training there, you werenât allowed to flinch, no matter how surprised you could have been.
âItâs all about your self-control, Y/n,â one of the coaches told you one day, sharp gaze cutting through your flesh as he looked at even the slightest of movements coming from you, keeping an eye even on your breathing. âWhen youâre focusing on your task, there should be nothing disturbing you from doing what youâre set to do. One small movement and youâre ruining it all. One slash of a katana triggered by a thunder outside can kill the wrong person, or even make you fail your mission, your purpose.âÂ
And for this exact reason, during your third month there, they made you train in the rain. Heavy rain might have felt like it was making holes through your flesh with how hard it was pouring down and how cold it was, but you learned to overlook it. At some point it became second nature; the cold and temporary stinging on your bare shoulders and arms became normal, like it was something that was absolutely normal to happen to you, something absolutely normal for you to feel.
After training and meditating in the rain, strong sounds didnât make you recoil anymore. But you still werenât sure where you were standing with your progress, because they never told you. Even if your training sessions were shorter than what they used to be, they never praised you, they never let on where you stood.Â
And not knowing what kind of progress you had made also meant not knowing how long you still had to train before they decided you were ready, or what your next training sessions would have looked like.
And when you saw the other girl again after what felt like years, she was waiting for you with one of the coaches standing behind her.
âThis is our first time having two people training at the same time,â the master walking behind you â master Shi Lai spoke up, walking right up to the other master standing behind the girl, âItâs time we saw just how good you two are.â
âWhat?â You spoke up, totally ignoring the fact that you knew you werenât supposed to question their judgement. It was the rules.Â
âYou have to fight each other,â the other master â master Mu Yang spoke up, taking a few steps back in order to make more space for you. âNo weapons, just you two fighting each other,â
But you didnât want to fight the other girl. Yes, no weapons were to be involved, but it still meant one of you could get badly hurt, potentially both of you, and that meant a lot of problems.
One being the way masters werenât going to cut you some slack if you were to be hurt. And not fighting against your opponent meant you were going to hike up some wild trail while carrying a sack of rice on your back, up to the top.
You let out a sigh, placing your hands on your hips right before you took small steps, trailing in a circle â making the girl move as well. It was clear as day that neither of you wanted to fight against each other, but had to do it nonetheless.
You trailed off, simply waiting. You werenât going to attack first, and you knew she was probably going to throw a first punch soon, going for your head. Your breathing was steady, and you only hoped that this girl wasnât a real-life fighting machine, because it wasnât unknown that you were street smart and that you knew how to fight, but the level of training for people who fell into the fighting category? Absolutely insane. And you could never compete with that.
So you waited, as your masters instructed you during your first days of training, your senses focusing on the girl in front of you. And just like you expected, she attacked first.Â
One of her arms moved methodically and with straight precision towards your head, and maybe anticipating her move actually helped you, because you blocked her swing with your forearm, successfully grabbing her arm with both hands and flipping her to the ground with a loud thud.Â
You looked at master Shi Lai, and right before you could open your mouth to talk, the girl was up onto her feet, once again being the one starting the attack. You parried her incoming kicks, but she was surprisingly way too quick with her jumps, too eager to take you down, and that only meant she was going to feel tired soon.Â
Surprisingly, she managed to dodge all your kicks, but you felt her getting tired from all the dodging and uncoiling she did while jumping around, and you took it as a sign to stop tiptoeing around her â and your leg lurched towards her, your foot kicking her right in the middle of her chest, propelling her to the ground.
The fight was short, but it was enough for you who didnât want to be in that position from the very beginning. The girl didnât move from her spot, but instead brought a hand to her chest, and you imagined her having difficulty breathing after hearing her panting.
You looked at master Shi Lai, and he nodded your way, âBring her inside,â
And you followed the instructions, helping the girl up and pulling her figure towards your own. You rotated a bit, offering her your back for a piggy ride, which she accepted without batting an eye â sore chest probably still causing her problems.Â
Youâve been kicked in the chest before, by the Head Master during a physical training, when you were just too ambitious and wanted to show the master just how good you were at fighting after picking it up on the streets. And that time, no one was there to pick you up and carry you back inside on their backs.
If someone made you carry another person on your back just three months ago, you think you would have ended up with a broken back. But in that moment, you were carrying another person down a mountain trail â but then again, you got used to carrying rice sacks on your backs, so the girl weighed absolutely nothing compared to that.
You took her up to your room, not knowing in which wing her own room was situated, and you actually wanted to keep an eye on her.
You placed her on your bed, and she winced in pain, sucking air through your teeth. The fight was short, but you definitely caused her some damage by taking her down twice.
âHey, how are you feeling?â You sat next to her, touching her shoulder, careful not to make her feel any more pain. You placed a pack of ice inside one of your old t-shirts, tying it around the cold item and placing it on her sternum, right where you kicked her, âThis should be of help,â
âThank you,â she rasped, grabbing the ice pack on her chest and raising her head off the pillow. âThey told me I was a shit fighter and they brought you in to fuck me up,â she giggled, and she closed her eyes, embarrassed, âIâm Yizhuo, by the way,â She opened her eyes to look at you, and your breath hitched in your throat hearing her opening up to you, âBut you can call me Ning,â
You threw her a look. Still in pain from the brief fight you had outside, you were glad that she was comfortable opening up to you.Â
âY/n,â you gave her a small smile, and she grinned your way.
âWe werenât supposed to share our names until we get code names,â she spoke up, but her grin never subsided, âBut you just beat the shit out of me, so I think weâre good,â
And after that day, you and Ning became inseparable during your free time at the training camp. With you training individually, you went on hikes or trained together during your free time. But you also spent nights talking and just getting to know each other.
âWhat made you come here?â She rolled on her belly to look at you. You were sleeping in her room that night, after spending the whole evening training underwater in one of the indoor pools downstairs.Â
You looked at her ceiling, playing with your fingers that were resting on your belly, âI was alone out there,â you shrugged, moving your head to look at her. âI had no one and got into trouble more than Iâd like to admit,â you laughed remembering all the times you ran away from city gangs, âThatâs how the old man recruited me. I was fighting two men in the back of an alley and he waited for me to knock their lights off before he approached me,â you smiled, but your gaze was lost, looking somewhere behind Ning.Â
âI got recruited after I harmed my aggressor,â Your breath hitched in your throat as you heard her words, and you once again moved your head to look at her. Still on her belly, biting on her thumb like she had just been caught red handed, she looked at you like she was expecting you to jump off the bed after hearing just how calm she had been saying those words.Â
âHarmed?â You inquired, calmly.Â
She smiled at you, âDonât look at me like thatâs the most concerning thing youâve ever heard!â She defended, âYouâre acting like weâre not here actively training to become assassins,âÂ
âDid he deserve it?â You asked, getting on your side to have a better look at her.
âYes,â her reply was curt, without a shadow of a doubt, âHe was my stalker,â She went on, gaze lost in space as she kept biting on her thumb. âHe followed me to a nightclub and when I was leaving, he grabbed me in a back alley. I knew he was after me so I had a knife on me, and I actually sliced his cheek when he least expected it.âÂ
She waited for you to hum before continuing, âAnd when he tried getting away, I threw my knife after him. It pierced his back, puncturing his lung,â She looked at you, trying to sense if you were judging her for hurting someone.
âHe definitely deserved it,â you mumbled, and Ning got on her side, imitating your position on her bed.Â
âI like training with you,â she mumbled, head resting on her arm and looking at you, âWish we could be a duo forever,â
And at that time, given how close the two of you had become, the idea didnât seem to be that bad.Â
That was, until the old man dropped by one morning, calling you into his designated office. You were actually happy to see a familiar face dropping by, already sick of seeing the masters all day, every day.Â
He looked at you as you walked towards one of the loveseats in the office, seating facing towards where he was sitting.Â
âYou look good, heard youâre a warrior around here,â He stood to his feet, making his way towards one of the cabinets, fishing for two coasters and two glasses, âI know you havenât had a drink in months,â he pours you some of the liquor, pouring himself some as well, âDrink up, you deserve it,â he prompted you, taking a sip of his own glass.
âThank you, sir,â you thanked him, but you grew so accustomed to the lifestyle the training program forced upon you, that you werenât really in the mood for alcohol, and the liquor burned your tongue as soon as you took a sip of it.
âIâm very pleased to tell you that youâre finally ready to join Deathâs Kiss Assassination Squad. Youâll be a part of the Vipers squad,â he smiled at you, and he seemed proud of everything that left his mouth up to that moment.Â
âVipers?â You asked, placing your glass on the coaster resting on the small glass coffee table.Â
âYes! Vipers, also known as Snipers!â He clicked his tongue, moving his head excitedly, âYou were born to play with firearms, kiddo,â he joked, clapping his hands together, âAt first I thought youâd be a great Bouncer. But youâre so full of surprises, Iâm so happy youâre a successful addition to our squad!â
âThank you, sir,â you repeated, not knowing what else to say â or to put it better, you didnât know how to bring up what you and Ning had been talking about. âActually, sirâŠâ You trailed off, hesitation making you bite your bottom lip.
âWhat is it, kiddo? You donât like your category? Itâs all about skills, and while youâre good at everything else as well, firearms are your art-â but he was interrupted by your waving hands.
âItâs not that, sir!â You tried making yourself understood, âIâm very happy with being a viper,â You reassure him, because while he might have seemed like a ray of sunshine while talking to you, you were also very aware of the fact that he was leading one of the best, most profitable organisations in the entire world.Â
âWhat is it, then? Speak up, Y/n,â He placed his glass on the coaster, and you were not sure how to test his mood, because you hadnât seen that manâs worst side up to that point.Â
âWould working as part of a duo work?â And even if you wanted to add more to your question, the look on his face stopped you from doing so.
He sighed, leaning back into his seat, âYou talked to Ning?â And he only waited for your nod before he spoke up again, âDuos are hard work, hard to manage, Y/n,â he drank up all the remaining liquor in his glass before standing up to his feet.Â
And he called Ning into the office anyway. Seated at his desk, his gaze bounced from you to Ning so many times, but neither of you had the courage to speak up.
âYou two realise you have completely different aptitudes. Youâre a Viper,â he pointed his head at you, âAnd youâre most likely to become a Scorpion, given your knife skills,â he looked at Ning, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to remain as calm as possible, âYou have to be the same category, one of you has to give up on her skills and start from the beginning,â
âI can do that,â Ning spoke up before you could, âMy shooting skills arenât that great right now, anyway, and that can change,âÂ
You actually wanted to be the one to change categories. Not because you didnât like how being a viper sounded, but because it would have been easier for you to spend a little more time in order to perfect your knife skills, than having Ning spend a long time training to get on the same level as you.
âNing,â the old manâs voice snapped you out of your thoughts, âAre you aware that Y/n is ready to join the squad, so that means youâll need to work hard and get to her level fast?â And when he saw Ning nodding, he turned to look at you, âYouâll work on your own until sheâs ready,â
You and Ning exchanged looks, barely able to contain your grins.The old man let out a huff of breath, but regained his initial good mood in mere seconds, âIn this case, welcome to the squad, Copperhead and Cottonmouth!â
III. BEIJING TO OKINAWA
After recalling the accident of how you lost one of the most important people in your life, and after telling Ningâs grandma about everything that had happened that day, she decided she would take you under her wing for a bit. Because after all, Ningâs plan involved her and she was well aware of it, wanting to help you out.
You remained secluded inside her building for three weeks before she allowed you to step out and have your face kissed by the warm air and the sun. And it wasnât like she was reluctant to let you out, but she explained all the next steps the plan entailed.Â
You were never going to allow her to act recklessly just to help you. You were never going to allow her to expose herself to the dangers of covering up the trails of a very experienced paid assassin on the run. You trusted her judgement, but you were never going to accept her risking her life just to save yours, because life was unfair to you, to Grandma Ning, and especially to Yizhuo.Â
Grandma Ning fed you, kept you updated about possible suspicious behaviour around the area, and she catered to your needs, although you kept your worries to yourself. There was no need for you to burden her with all your fears and worries, but you also knew that you couldnât overstay your welcome.Â
Yes, she was part of the plan â the first person to go to in case of emergency â and yes, she was there to keep you safe for a while, but you couldnât put her in any danger.Â
And remaining in Beijing seemed too good to be true, anyway. Like all fantasies, there had to be something happening for you to come back to reality. You were on the run, you needed to hide and run towards the edge of the earth, and you couldnât afford to get caught.Â
And like a macabre reminder that you werenât safe and needed to either embrace your demise or just run off to a hopefully safer place for you to survive in, it glinted in the sun. A coin, a simple coin glinted as sunshine grazed it, and it caught your attention while you were finally out enjoying a little bit of freedom after so many weeks of just being secluded inside a building, scared, and uncertain.
Holding your hat down on your forehead as you crouch down to pick it up, you almost drop the coin when you inspect the country of origin. Itâs a coin from back home, that would never be used in Beijing for absolutely any reason â new, shiny and polished â it was dropped, or actually placed by someone right at the alleyâs exit. A perfect spot for methodically placing a hint, knowing that its perfect state would get the very well-trained eye of an assassin, especially if light hit it from any angle.Â
This isnât a sick coincidence. This doesnât have anything to do with chances and fortune. This was meant for your eyes to catch, and they did.Â
You keep the coin in the palm of your hand, squeezing it like youâre afraid it might disintegrate the more you keep thinking about it.Â
So you make your way all the way to the end of the alley, checking behind you with every quick step you take â trying to see if you are being followed, trying to see if thereâs any pair of eyes that even remotely resemble those of someone you know, someone from your squad back home.Â
Your steps come to a halt when you reach the large, green door, and you watch behind you one last time before pushing it open, quickly getting inside the building and locking the door after yourself. At first you thought that leaving the house today was a mistake and, while you were not entirely wrong, you were never going to pick up on the hint that they finally managed to find you if it werenât for your little impromptu stroll. And who knows, maybe staying in would have meant both you and Grandma were going to be ambushed with neither of you suspecting anything.
âGrandma!â You pant, calling for her as you run through the narrow corridors of the building, âWhere are you?â A lump forms in your throat at the idea that while you were busy wasting precious time with that coin outside, grandma had already fallen victim to whoeverâs after you. And not knowing who it is, itâs killing you on the inside.
âWhatâs wrong?â She asks the moment you enter her meditation room, the final spot inside the whole building you were hoping to find her in, alive. She directly asked you what was wrong, because she already knew something had happened.
âThey found me,â If someone told you just half a year ago that you were going to have a full panic attack at the thought of being met by one of your coworkers, you would have let a bark of laughter escape you, thatâs for sure. And it is actually insane to you how barely only a bit over one month had passed, and you already couldnât recognise yourself.
You used to be someone ready to fight, ready to face whatever danger was awaiting you because, after all, you were prepared for any kind of peril.
âYou and I both know there are no coincidences when thereâs a bounty on your head,â Grandma retorts, reminding you that you canât let yourself be fooled by the delusion that this could be all in your head.Â
âRemember what we talked about? The Okinawa plan?â She asked you, and you hummed in response, too busy looking for the bag full of essentials that you were to carry around with you. âI believe in you, Y/n, you only need to reach Naha safely,â
You nod, and for some reason your eyes are welling up with tears.
IV. DEATHSTALKER
Thereâs a sense of heaviness in your chest as you lie unmoving on the old bed of your hotel room, your ears ring, and your mind runs lapses trying to hear anything suspicious coming from the hallway or the floors above. Anything that you can take as a sign to leave this city as soon as possible.
The anxiety youâve developed since leaving the circle weakens your abilities and senses a bit, and you were one of the best on the field. Able to control your pulse and breathing, you never experienced having an annoying and constant ringing in your ears as you try to decipher silence. You never had to lie down on a bed in order to allow the ringing to subside and your pulse to calm down. And youâve never experienced such strong paranoia, not even when they were training you in the mountains to get an elite assassin out of you.
And how could you not be paranoid, after they made you leave three countries already? Youâve seen them all, the signs. The hints thrown at you that theyâve found you, but the worst thing of all is not knowing who exactly is after you.Â
Who is it that your former boss sent after you? Itâs important, because itâs over for you if they sent a knife expert â or worse, a butcher. Ning trained you intensely during your free time in order to perfect your skills so you could be on her level, and you know what scorpions and butchers are capable of. Ning gave up being a scorpion, being the best at using knives out of the entire team, just for you. To be able to be a viper with you.Â
You hear heavy footsteps thumping on the carpeted hallway outside, but you donât pay too much mind to that. Someone from your field would never make that much noise. You could probably expect to have a gun to your temple even right now while lying in bed, whilst you try waiting for another sign, they could enter your room and you wouldnât even know it.Â
Youâre once again in your own head, thinking about Ning and how it ended for her, the signs youâve noticed in the past two months that you were being followed and that they found you, yet they let you live a little longer before they make you disappear off the surface of the earth. And then you hear it, the imperceptible click of your doorâs lock, gradually and carefully being picked.
You jump off the bed, trying to be as light as possible, leaping towards the massive bookshelf fixed on the wall on the left side of your bed, where you carefully planted a loaded gun in case you heard any type of suspicious movement outside your door and windows. You crouch down on top of the bookshelf, holding your gun with steady hands as you wait for your assassin to enter your room.Â
In the pitch black room, with only the moonlight seeping through the open curtains, you donât hear any footsteps or rustling of clothes, but you spot a manâs silhouette stepping carefully around the bed. A car parks outside your window, and the headlights briefly land on the manâs features, making you freeze.Â
Deathstalker? They sent a damn scorpion after you.
Even with the moonlight as your only source of light, it is enough for you to make out his movements, and itâs like your senses are once again as sharp as they used to be, because you can see everything perfectly. Like having night vision.Â
He reaches for the spot on your bed, the spot you were lying on, and touches it, checking its warmth to understand how long youâve stayed there.
You feel a numbing pain in your foot sole due to the stupid position youâre crouched down in, and you try moving half an inch to the right in order to be a tiny bit more comfortable until he decides to act â and you'll need to be ready â but your heart drops to your stomach when your ankle pops from the small movement.Â
Fuck, shit, motherfucking-fuck-shit.
And you see him stopping his hand on the bedspread, keeping himself unmoving in the same position, and you hear him giggle.
âOh, baby, baby,â he laughs lightly, straightening his back slowly to turn around and look at you, all perched on the bookshelf with your head nearly touching the ceiling âSeems like the lost months of physical training really got to your ankle, huh?â He lets his usual deep laugh fill the room, mocking you.
âShut up, Jaehyun,â you retort through gritted teeth, âDonât call me baby when I have a loaded gun pointed to your head,â you threaten him, but he only smiles back.Â
âWhy are you here?â You ask, trying to buy some more time. Especially because you donât see him holding not even one of his knives, and you don't like unpredictability. But again, he could have some shuriken up his sleeve.Â
âI think you know why Iâm here, Y/n,â he answers with a sombre tone.
Of course you know why heâs here. âIâve been waiting for you,â you mumble.
He chuckles, âYouâre so thoughtful, baby,â he ignores your threat about using the nickname, and he doesnât even try to move an inch to the side. He knows that an unexpected movement might cost him his life. âYou say youâve been waiting for me, but you ran away from me,â he tsks, shaking his head in mockery.
âOh, my fucking bad! Should have baked you a cake and got you some flowers waiting for you to kill me,â You bark back at him, gun still aimed at his head.Â
You guess your reflexes really are back even after the months of reckless living, with no healthy food, no proper training, no meditation. Especially no meditation, because how could you even think of focusing on that when your mind was so full of paranoia and anxiety.Â
âWho said Iâm here to kill you?â He laughs, and those damned dimples make an appearance. Your gaze falls on them, on his sculpted cheekbones, then back on his dimples, finally travelling down to the jaw.Â
Heâs relaxed, he looks like heâs on fucking vacation, taking his sweet time inflicting even more anxiety on you. He looks around the room, looking around the walls â or at least trying to look around, because thereâs not much one can see with only the moonlight seeping through the curtains.Â
But you see him just fine, and he sees you perfectly as well, and you guess itâs all because of your profession â trained to see and sense the target even in pitch dark places.
And thanks to this quality of yours, you see him moving fast, and you anticipate his actions, knowing that heâs doing all this in order to get the knife he has up one of his sleeves out, in order to launch it towards you.
But he seems to forget you trained to be almost as good as he is â because truth be told, not even Ning could ever come close to Jaehyunâs knife skills, â and maybe you also forgot you still had the self preservation instinct and adrenaline going hand in hand with all your training that you still hadnât forgotten, even if you initially thought had become rusty. Turns out youâre doing just fine.Â
You jump off the bookcase, hoping he wonât launch another weapon your way, and you shoot at him as soon as you land on the carpeted floors of your motel room, the suppressor making the shooting noise a bit more bearable to the ears.Â
But you know it can still be heard, and people panic even if they hear a thud, a snapping or cracking sound coming from outside their window. So you stand back on your feet, lurching towards the door and escaping as fast as you can, not losing any time with checking if Jaehyun is harmed, or dead.
âShit!â You hear him curse, and you run faster towards the small green space beside the motel and parking lot. Heâs alive and breathing, yet youâre not sure if heâs harmed or not, but youâre sure the shock of actually being shot at by you will buy you some time before he comes out to look for you.
Your steps are light as you almost trot your way on top of the dead foliage covering the ground â the green space in which you buried an emergency bag a few days ago, preparing for a moment like this one right now. Groping in the dark for the few bushes you used as cover for one small shovel, you find it and start digging fast in order to get your belongings.Â
The ground is moist but easy to dig in, and you snatch your emergency bag up from the ground, rummaging inside it for new clothes and anything you could use not to be easily recognised by Jaehyun. Changing clothes, wearing a relatively well made wig that wouldnât give away the fact that it is made of synthetic hair, especially in the middle of the poorly lit parking lot.
Parking lot, which you have a clear and amazing view of.Â
You spot Jaehyun marching out of your room, looking around himself for bystanders who might have heard the gun going off, and who might even be looking for you. You see him throwing a look towards the green space with trees â where youâre hiding, but his whole plan has been too faulty for him to risk it by staying and looking for you.
And he walks away with fast steps, jumping in his car and reversing it in the middle of the parking lot. You think you have an idea of what route heâs going to take, because there arenât many possibilities at the moment. Heâs either going south or north, and it all feels like youâre gambling â the right choice would allow you to chase, find, and kill him, and the other one would leave you still as the one being chased.Â
So you pick a second car key you kept in your emergency bag, and move towards your car as discreetly as possible.Â
You jump inside your car, starting it almost immediately so you donât lose precious time that might make you lose Jaehyunâs tracks, and you speed after him after spotting his sturdy jeep racing on the highway.
You never expected Jaehyun to be the one sent out to come after you, for you to find your demise by his hand. Your history has always been complicated, from that one time when things ruined your chances to ever be in each otherâs proximity without throwing daggers at each other, up to the last few months, especially today, when he actually decided to stop hunting you down and messing with your head â when he actually attempted to finally complete his mission.
But thereâs so much more about Jaehyun that needs to be thought about, and you reckon this is not the time. Being in your own head thinking of the last decade as youâve known him wonât be of any help, especially now that youâre in the right mind to actually behave and do what you learnt to perfection. To kill.
You see Jaehyun taking the next exit and you follow, although you hit the brakes so as to not catch up to him and be caught. Turns out Jaehyun was actually hiding himself about thirty miles away from the motel you chose to take refuge in, and youâre surprised he actually decided to stay so far away instead of just getting a room at the same motel. And yet you know the reason why he did it â so as to not mess up his chances and be seen following you, or worse, being seen by you. Because after all, you knew someone was after you, you just werenât sure of who it was exactly.Â
You park your car by the front gates of his hotel, fancier and in better condition than the motel that sheltered you, and his grandeur makes you scoff. Talk about doing your job and living in barracks if itâs required for the success of your mission, it isnât a rule for Jaehyun and it has never truly been.Â
He can do his tasks very nicely from a nice hotel, not to mention the most luxurious ones he usually resides in â he goes out in the morning wearing nice clothes, seemingly ready to take over recreational golf tournaments for the whole day, but leaves the resort for the entire day and only returns after heâs succeeded in his mission. No crease on his white polo t-shirt, not a drop of blood on his trainers, not a drop of sweat having gone dry on the collar of his polo or on his spine. Heâs an unbothered, perfect executioner who does his work like his mother pushed him out and he already had knives in each hand.Â
But youâre not afraid of him. Maybe because of your history together as the main reason, you were more threatened by the thought of being chased by Perentic â Kim Jungwoo, bouncer â and actually being beaten to death with a crowbar by him, instead of finding your demise by Jaehyunâs hands.
Jaehyun takes his sweet time gathering his belongings from his car. You see heâs not hurt, so youâre not sure if your missed aim was because you are actually rusty with your skills or if it happened because it was Jaehyun you were aiming at. You hope itâs the first option, especially because he had no problem terrorising you for months, only to later show up and throw shurikens your way.
He gets out of his jeep, walking leisurely inside the hotel, and you finally enter the parking lot. Your eyes are on Jaehyun even if you look for a spot to park your car, which you actually manage to do just a few spots away from his own, and you get out following his steps.Â
The hotel is nice, but not nice enough to have key cards instead of physical keys. And you can barely contain your smile as you avoid being seen by any staff roaming around, managing to keep your gaze on Jaehyunâs figure and see which room is his.
You can pick a normal lock with your eyes closed, but trying to pick up an automated lock â like the one most hotels have â would have been a total nightmare.
You approach his door, sticking your back to the wall, and you try pricking up your ears and sense if you can hear any type of movement behind the door. Jaehyunâs steps thud as he moves around the room, and you sense them moving farther away from the proximity of the entrance.
It doesnât take much for you to hear a creaking sound, and then the pitter-patter of the water coming down in his shower, and you know you have to get into his room now that you have the chance.
You pick the lock as silently as possible, and it doesnât work on the first try, so you wait and pay attention to any noise that might have changed on the other side of the door.
You try again, and this time you succeed â the knob making an almost imperceptible clicking sound that would never be heard over the pitter-patter of the shower.
Looking around yourself, you see Jaehyunâs jacket scattered on the bed like he didnât even pay attention to where it landed once he took it off. His shoes are by the door, where some of his belongings are also scattered on top of a coffee table in its vicinity.Â
You take your gun out, taking careful steps around the small living area and swiftly inspecting the bedroom without finding anything suspicious. You donât see a bag that might be containing weapons, you donât see anything suspicious. You donât see misplaced trash, you donât see the traces of someone whoâs lived here â even if it was for a short amount of time.
You also donât hear anyone in the shower, although the water is still running and you can see all the steam coming from behind the shower curtain.
But you frown as you take a few more steps towards the bathroom door, reminded of the fact that Jaehyun doesnât take steamy showers.
You sense him, you see him creeping up on you like the ceiling has just been split in half, and heâs coming down to make an appearance. You turn around, and right before you can do anything and point your gun in his direction, he throws a kick that manages to send your gun flying back to his bedroom.Â
You swing your arm, aiming for his head, but he blocks your motions and actually manages to crouch down when you target his head once again, this time with your right leg.
âStop fighting me!â He warns, because truth be told, he doesnât want to hurt you. Heâs ducking down every time you try kicking him with one of your limbs, getting away from all your kicks like heâs a little girl whoâd rather run away during perilous situations.Â
Heâs actually trying his best not to let his instincts kick in and fight you for real this time, because itâs going to be brutal and itâs going to end with either one of you bleeding.Â
He tries getting close to you in order to immobilise you, yet you manage to jump to your right and hit the wall, kicking left to get a higher kick and actually knock him down. But heâs quick with his reflexes and after all, who were you even kidding? This man trained just like you did, with these very moves, so he knows everything by heart already. He manages to actually catch you mid-flight and prevent you from moving by keeping you stuck between his arms.
âI said,â he spits through gritted teeth, squeezing you tighter so you stop moving like a fish out of water, âStop fighti-,â heâs interrupted the moment your head kicks his chin.
He finally lets you go, taking a few steps behind and placing one hand over his aching chin.
âYou actually kicked me!â He barks, and you know heâs more shocked than upset.
âI could have done so much more!â You growl, preparing to attack him again. You donât even care where your gun is right now, you just need to lose all the pent-up tension in your muscles by giving him a good beating. And with the amount of rage youâre feeling, not even a man as tall and sturdy as Jaehyun can feel safe, âYou actually tried killing me, earlier,â you reproach him, and heâs in disbelief after registering your words.Â
âAnd you shot me!â He accuses you, his voice suddenly high in pitch with betrayal.
âSo fucking sorry, Jaehyun! I should have let your shuriken pierce through my chest!â You scream, exasperated.
Heâs ridiculous for being so offended, so sulky, and it was all his fault in the first place. Acting like he didnât aim his knives at you. You know Jaehyun well enough to know heâs going to be bothered about you shooting at him for a long time, or maybe heâll be bothered by the fact that he missed his target. Yet you donât see him trying to remedy his initial mistakes, as heâs now standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered while looking at you.
Youâre getting tired of this. Maybe you should just offer to stay still and call it a day, because just the thought of having to run away for the remainder of your life is making you feel all the motivation you had â all the motivation to pull through and run away in order to save your life â is disappearing.Â
âJust shoot me,â you tell him before you can stop yourself. He shudders hearing your words, his head jerking briefly.Â
âAre you insane?â He mocks you, grimacing.Â
You scoff, dropping your arms exasperated, âArenât you here to do this, Jaehyun?â You talk calmly, and Jaehyun almost canât believe just how calm youâre being. When you see him being in his own head, with no intention of replying, you go on, âJust throw your knives, kill me, take my head or whatever. But please donât take me back alive because you know whatâs gonna happen,â
And of course, Jaehyun knows. He knows the rules, the instructions, he knows whatâs going to happen if he captures you and takes you back on your own two feet. He doesnât want to see you being tortured, and heâs not sure if heâd be able to live knowing he basically did to you so much worse than just taking your life.Â
Taking your life should have been easy, easy on him and especially easier on you â because you know very well what going back to the old man would mean for you, everyone from the squad knows. Jaehyun is still so unsure as to why you left the squad, knowing you would bring this upon yourself. But he really doesnât like where this is leading the two of you.
He either kills you on the spot, and his life will forever be a nightmare from now on, or he takes you back alive, and youâre likely to get killed by the old man or one of his bodyguards, but still under his scrutiny. Either way, Jaehyunâs life is going to be a nightmare.Â
âThey never said I should take you back alive,â he sighs, dropping with a thud on his unmade bed. He raises his head from the mattress to look at you, and he sees you staying still in your spot by the arcade at the entrance to the bedroom.Â
âThen itâs clear as day that you should just kill me,â you insist, and he wants to seal your mouth shut.
But youâre having none of the silent and pensive Jaehyun agenda, because while you accepted it in the past, youâre not as lenient right now â now when your life is at stake.
âAre you even listening to me?â You push, moving your weight from one leg to the other. But you see him ignoring you, and you want to kill him on the spot. One thing that makes you want to go ballistic is his ignoring you, completely lost in his own thoughts, like youâre not here chewing his ears off with your words.Â
You see him frowning, raising his head once again, and then carefully getting off the bed, but staying unmoving by the foot of the bed.Â
âJaehyun!â You raise your voice, and the only person whoâs ever made you lose your temper this way is standing in front of you, ignoring you, âIf you wonât do it, Iâll do it myself in front of your eyes and change the trajectory of your life,â you bark, moving your hands frantically.Â
He finally looks at you, still frowning, and he brings a finger to his lips to signal you to shut up.Â
You look at him bewildered, because ⊠did this man just tell you to shut the fuck up?
âOh, you didnât just tell me to shut it,â Your scoff is loud, outraged, still not believing this just happened â not believing Jaehyun would ever have the audacity to do this.
âShhhh!â He lurches towards you, covering your mouth with his hand. You look up at him, and his eyes are piercing and⊠worried?
He takes his hand off your mouth, but brings his index finger to his lips to instruct you to stay silent. He points his fingers to his ear, and then to the door, and you finally get it. Heâs sensing somethingâs happening outside his door.Â
You look at him, and you try to prick up your ears and see if you can hear anything of what heâs sensing, supposedly. Your ears start ringing once again as you try to pay attention, and you feel like punching yourself. Whatever happened to the elite assassin you once were?
You look at Jaehyun once again. Jaw set, eyebrows furrowed, gaze lost while looking into a spot on the carpeted floors of his room. He points to the door once again, and just five seconds after he does so, thereâs a knock filling the silence of the room.Â
You flinch hearing another knock, but looking at Jaehyun taking a few steps back and away from you has your jaw setting. Youâre within the doorâs radius, and if anything happened you wouldnât be able to do much more than jump away from whatever could be coming for you. The fact that Jaehyun snatched your gun earlier, throwing it somewhere by the door, isnât of any help either.Â
You see him touching his lower abdomen, and you look at him, confused. Thereâs another knock on the door, and within three more seconds, someone kicks the door open with their foot, making you flinch and jump back â but not enough for you to take cover from whatever weapon they might have on themselves.
And the moment they appear and walk through the door, you know that taking cover from a rifle wouldnât be possible â youâd end up dead anyway. The man loads the rifle, pointing it at your unmoving figure, and youâre too stunned to even think of trying to move away.Â
But gladly for you, Jaehyun didnât lose his assassin senses like you did, and in your petrified state you still manage to see him moving his hand to his pants, pulling out a jackknife and jerking his arm to pull the blade out, and throwing it towards the man holding the rifle aimed at you. All in under two seconds.
The knife hits the man in the heart, making him drop the weapon to his feet and throwing Jaehyun a look right before blood starts spilling from his mouth. He touches the dagger right before collapsing to the ground, and you look at Jaehyun as he approaches you.
âLetâs go, Y/n!â He instructs, pulling you by the wrist, âIf he found us here, theyâll come check for him when theyâll see heâs missing!â He mumbles, grabbing the few personal items scattered on the coffee table by the entrance, looking for your gun and placing it in your hands.
âHey! Snap out of this!â He snaps his fingers in front of your eyes, trying to bring your attention to him.Â
Youâre lost, never expecting Jaehyun to kill someone else in order to protect you â because after all, he was sent to get you one way or another, dead or alive. Yet here he is, bruising your wrist with his involuntary excessive force, looking at you concerned.Â
âWhatâs wrong with you? Get a grip on your elite senses if you donât want us both to get killed!â He grabs your face with his free hand, and when he sees your eyes focusing on him, attentive and once again aware of your surroundings, he lets you go.
He moves away from you, and snatches the jackknife away from the manâs chest, wiping its blade on the manâs shirt and carefully putting it back into his own pants. He makes sure you take care of your gun, and lifts his bag in order to place it on his shoulder.Â
He grabs you again, by the hand this time, and he pulls you out of the room, trying to close the broken door as best as he can.
âWe need to get away now, and fast. Itâs a matter of time before the staff notice the messed door,â he pulls you away, and his steps are huge while you almost trot next to him as he drags you by your hand, âYou have everything you need with you?â He asks, and you know he means personal items like a bag â and weapons.
You nod, âIn the car,â and you pull your keys out of your jeans.
He opens your trunk, taking your bag and pushing it into your arms, and his gaze lands on a long clarinet case, and heâs sure your weapons are in there. So he throws you a questioning look, and you only look back at him, understanding each other just by looking at each other.
As he closes the trunk of your car, thereâs a womanâs scream disturbing the quiet of the night, and Jaehyun looks at you as he starts running to his car. For some reason, you also start running, and youâre not sure why youâre doing it. You came here to kill him, yet youâre now running away with him.
âLetâs go before they come after us!â Jaehyun throws all your stuff in the backseat of his jeep, and you get into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, âPut your seatbelt on!â His voice is tense as he bosses you around.
He turns around to look back, putting one arm behind your seat so he can have better visibility as he reverses the car. The action makes him get closer to you, and your nose is close enough to him to get a whiff of his unchanged cologne.Â
Youâve known Jaehyun for a decade, yet his cologne remained the same. The same clean, fresh smell flooded your senses, even if a bit faded after a long day.
He speeds away from the parking lot, and you realise heâs speeding towards the highway, breaking speed limits.Â
âPut a second one just in case,â he instructs you, throwing you a quick look, and when you jerk your head confused, he extends his arm behind your seat once again, pulling a second seatbelt and handing it to you, âSecure it on the other side of the seat,â and you do as he instructs, your chest and body now secured under a cross made of two seatbelts, tightly tied over yourself.
He takes the highway and throws you another look, making sure you listened to him. Seeing you sitting calmly in the seat next to him, he decides to look for his own seatbelt.
âHow did you get two seatbelts installed?â You ask, looking at his seat and seeing a second one he doesnât bother securing for himself.Â
âI have my ways,â he explains after a while. Knowing Jaehyun, he probably mulled the answer over and over again in his head, âI know a guy,â he confesses, letting you know the truth, and you only hum in understanding.
Heâs speeding and swaying lanes, yet youâre not panicking. In fact, youâve never been this at peace. Youâre not sure where heâs taking you, or what heâs going to do with you. He might have saved you tonight just so he could kill you with his own hands tomorrow.Â
But a thought crosses your mind, and itâs so loud you canât pay attention to anything else. How did that man find you in Jaehyunâs room? And why was he after you, if Jaehyun was the one sent over to hunt you down and kill you?
Jaehyun hits the brakes, honking as one of the cars sways lanes and cuts your way, and your chest hurts a bit with the two seatbelts forcefully keeping you glued to your seat. You donât even notice Jaehyunâs arm extending in front of you, as if he wanted to keep your body safe and unmoving in case the two seatbelts were not enough.
âYou good?â He asks, throwing you a look, but he speeds off once again, âSome people just donât need to be out on the road,â he mutters to himself, but you hear him nonetheless over the rumble of the car navigating the winds on the highway.
âWhere are we going?â You ask, getting more comfortable in your seat. For some reason, youâre incredibly sleepy. Maybe itâs the fact that you know youâre not being followed, otherwise Jaehyun would have already let you know â because heâs a talker every time heâs panicking â or maybe itâs the fact that you trust Jaehyunâs driving skills enough to have your body relaxing even in a perilous situation like this one.
âAs far away as possible,â his reply is simple, but relaxed, âI have a few options,â
But you donât fall asleep, because that thought keeps lingering in your mind, that manâs expression as he loaded the rifle reappearing in your head every time you blink. Even if Jaehyun kills you tonight or later tomorrow, you donât really mind. Youâre sure being on the run isnât the life you want to lead, and now that you found Jaehyun, youâre fairly ready to have him kill you.
You turn your head to the side in order to look at him. His facial features shine, basking in the blue light of the jeepâs console lights. Heâs driving with one hand only, keeping the other arm propped on the window to his left, hand playing with his hair as heâs deep in thought. His jaw is set, lazily chewing on a gum, and from time to time he switches his glance away from the road in front of you so as to look to his left before switching lanes.
Heâs in his own world, like always, and he doesnât notice you looking at him. The same man who heard suspicious steps approaching his door earlier and saved both your lives doesnât sense your gaze on him right now.Â
The drive is long, and you and Jaehyun donât talk to each other. Youâre exhausted but you know he is too, and yet every time you ask him if heâd like to switch and let you drive, he refuses.Â
He hums to the songs on the radio, taps his fingers on the steering wheel, sometimes imitates some of the instruments playing the melody, and yet youâre used to this, youâre used to him. Maybe the old man did you some good by sending Jaehyun after you, maybe Jaehyun wonât give you a painful death, maybe heâll be considerate, for old timeâs sake.
Itâs nearly dawn when Jaehyun takes one of the exits, driving away from the highway. The horizon starts being painted with white and orange hues when he parks the car, and jumps out quickly after undoing his seatbelt.
âWe need to rest, and this is actually a good place for us to stay,â he lets you know as soon as you join him in the back of his jeep, watching him as he takes his bag on his shoulder, âYouâll leave your clarinet here until tomorrow,â he throws your bag in your arms, and then walks away towards the motelâs entrance.Â
You wait for him by the door, and heâs painfully late while losing track of time talking to the receptionist. You roll your eyes, turning around to look around the parking lot. This is your perfect time to run away yet you donât do it, and maybe youâre too tired, but you now start regretting driving away with him.Â
And he could have killed you in his car if he wanted to, youâre reminded by the voice in your head. And he didnât. He didnât even try. One movement of his hand could have sliced your throat open and could have made you bleed out in a minute on his passenger seat, yet he hummed the songs playing on the radio and whistled to the rhythm of Goodnight Moon, a song you knew he liked.
Your patience runs thin when you hear the receptionist giggling, and you actually get fed up with waiting for him, returning to his car and trying to unlock the doors. Which you realise is a total failure the moment the alarms start going off as soon as you hit one of the windows with your foot, and you hear Jaehyun running out of the receptionistâs cubicle to see what had happened after recognising the alarm. So itâs not a failed attempt after all.Â
Had he been dumb enough â which isnât something that ever happens when it comes to Jaehyun â and had he left the car unlocked, you were going to either start the engine one way or another and take off, or just take your stuff out of the trunk and get your clarinet back in your possession, hitting the road even if you had no idea where to go next.
Being a trained assassin had its perks, like physically harming men who tried to assault you in any way â and you could even take off with their cars.Â
âDo I have to wait for you to flirt with that receptionist, or can we actually rest peacefully?â You asked him once he made the alarm stop.Â
He shows you the keys to your room, and you scoff, âWhy do you have just one key? Whereâs mine?â
He snorts, dimples on display, âYouâre dumb if you think youâre sleeping in a different room than me, baby,â
âDonât call me that!â You bark back, feet trotting trying to catch up with him as he walks towards your designated room, âAnd why wouldnât you trust me? I actually followed you here, didnât I?â You continue, finally catching up to him.
âYou tried to kill me,â he turns around, and it nearly makes you run into his chest, âTwice,â he completes through gritted teeth, his tone sombre.Â
âYou also tried to kill me,â you defend yourself, shocked at the accusations brought against you. Yes, you tried killing him, but he seems to forget that heâs been terrorising you for months instead of walking up to you and killing you once and for all.
You follow his steps, and he unlocks one of the doors, stepping in first and keeping the door open for you to walk in as well.Â
You look around the room. Simple furniture, a closet is carved into one of the walls, thereâs a door that you suppose is leading to the bathroom, and the detail youâre most excited about, the twin beds.Â
âYou should be grateful Iâm letting you sleep here on a comfy bed, instead of tying you and leaving you in the trunk until morning,â he throws his shoes and bag away, walking around the room to sit on one of the beds.Â
You roll your eyes, dropping your bag by the entrance. You know he locked the door and heâs keeping the key somewhere safe, and even if you tried escaping, youâre sure heâd hear you with his damned supersonic hearing only an elite assassin has.Â
âCanât believe I have to hear your snoring,â you whine, sitting on the other available bed.
âAnd I canât believe youâre moaning after I basically saved both of us today. You just stood there like a puppet instead of doing something, anything!â He got up from his spot, coming up next to you to face you. You donât look at him, too tired to bicker with him after the hell of a day you had.Â
âYou threw my gun away, so I was basically useless,â You defended yourself tiredly, not even having the energy to raise your voice at him.
âYes, you were,â he confirms, and you see him pulling his bag on the bed and fishing for a change of clothes, and other essentials like a toothbrush and his shower gel, and then you see him smiling all of a sudden, just one dimple on display as he tries containing his smile, âThank god the amazing mortal weapon in my pants saved the day,â
You blink twice while looking at him, too stunned to say anything for a few seconds.
âMy god, youâre such an idiot!â You whine, bringing your hands up to your face, running them up and down a few times out of frustration, âCanât believe I have to stay with you and your dumb jokes between these four walls,â
He snorts, way too happy with his idiotic joke and the reaction he got out of you, âIâm not that bad, baby,â You roll your eyes hearing his words, and just as you open your mouth to retort something, he cuts you off, âYeah, yeah, I know! Donât call me that, Jaehyun!â He imitates you by repeating your words, imitating your voice by raising his pitch, and you let out a groan, snatching your pillow off your bed.
âGet the fuck out!â You retort, throwing your pillow at his head, but heâs quick entering the bathroom, and he shuts the door after himself as you hear his deep laugh from behind the door.Â
This is going to be a long night, you realise as you sigh and plop once again on your bed.
Maybe he should have just killed you.
You wake up the next morning with your head feeling heavy, temples pulsing painfully with every beat of your heart. You blink a few times, expecting bright light to make it difficult for your eyes to adjust â but the dim lights donât bother your eyes.
You replay the last bits of last night â or earlier this morning, to put it better â right before falling asleep.Â
After his shower, Jaehyun made sure to take your gun away, and you actually allowed him, not having the energy to physically fight him for a weapon you donât even plan on using on him. You could have killed him in numerous other ways, if only you werenât so sleepy â and if you actually wanted to, to begin with.Â
After you were done getting out of the shower, and after bickering with Jaehyun for using his shower gel, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were so exhausted, after weeks of being chased down by the same man youâre now sharing a room with â the psychological terror inflicted on your mind really wore you out, but you managed to have a good nightâs sleep after such a long time now that you knew you werenât being chased and that you didnât need to stay alert at all times any longer. Or, actually, you were still being chased, but this time you were actually not alone in this.
Which reminds you of the fact that you really need to have a talk with Jaehyun.
You turn around in bed, looking for him on his bed, but the spot he was sleeping in is now empty. Bed unmade, it looks like heâs been up a while now, and your eyes scan the dimly lit room for his presence.
Heâs standing next to the window, taking a peek through the curtains as discreetly as possible while biting hungrily on a red apple. He notices you as soon as you turn around, he knows youâre awake but doesnât spare you a look â at least for now, still busy peeking outside the window.
âGood morning,â he rasps before taking another bite. He turns around, this time taking slow steps towards your beds, sitting on his while still facing you, âI didnât remember you snored,â
You let out an offended gasp, pushing yourself up on one elbow to see him better, âI so do not snore!â
He hums, unimpressed. He takes another bite from the apple in his hand, âYou do. But I slept nonetheless. Now eat this,â he extends the apple towards you, âAnd get ready, we have to go,â
âWhat?â You bark, smacking his hand away from your proximity, âDo you think I eat after just anybody?â You retort, raising an eyebrow.
Heâs not impressed. Thereâs so much more he wants to say but he decides against it, and because his silence is heavy and you know what the look in his eyes implies, you grab the apple and bite on it.
âThatâs the only thing I had in my bag, we should be good until we stop for proper food along the way,â he takes a new change of clothes out of his bag, packing the garments he wore yesterday.
âWhy are you taking me away with you, instead of just killing me? Arenât you here for this?â You ask as you chew.
âYouâre coming with me until Iâm sure no one else is following us. Then, weâll see what to do with you,â heâs calm, he doesnât even look at you because he knows that it might tick you off and youâll start another fight with him. He hates fights, especially the ones that are with you.
âRight,â you nod as if thatâs the most understandable thing heâs ever said, âAbout that⊠we need to talk,â you try, but he dismisses you.
âWe need to get going! Go change if you donât wanna leave in your pyjama shorts right now,â He warns, pointing his head towards the bathroom door.
âBut I really need to have this talk with you,â you insist, but still pick up yesterdayâs jeans and a new t-shirt from your bag.
âGo change! Now!â He raises his voice at you, exasperated by your constant pushing of his buttons, âWeâll talk when we hit the road,â
âBut this is something important that we need to talk face to face about, Jaehyun!â Your tone is suddenly high in pitch, frowning at him and his stubborn behaviour. Maybe if he allowed you to bring up all your concerns and everything that you realised earlier in the car, he might even end up thanking you.
He throws your unloaded gun on your bed for you to keep on yourself once again, âWhat is it?â He sighs, finally giving in to all your pressuring. He fishes a gun out of his own bag, because he keeps one in all his missions, out of convenience and for collateral damage. He keeps his actual weapons for the ones heâs actually paid to kill.
And you guess itâs one of those habits the entire squad has. Because after training intensely with Ning, trying to be on her level of scorpion, you also keep a dagger in your mission bag out of comfort, and you know for a fact that even Jeno â a butcher â also keeps a revolver on himself at all times.Â
âWasnât that man suspicious to you?â You start, and you see him furrowing his brows as he closes his bag up.Â
âWhatâs supposed to be suspicious about that man? He was sent to kill us,â he rasps, looking at you like youâre an idiot and have shit for brains.
âThe operative word being âusâ, Jaehyun,â you push, looking at him. You donât expect Jaehyun to be quick with his reactions, but you expect him to understand what you are implying.Â
âHuh?â He squints his eyes, jerking his head at you, all confused.Â
Your eyes nearly bulge out of their orbits as you look at him, âMan sent to kill,â you raise one finger in the air, and then raise a second one before pointing out, âUs,âÂ
He still looks at you confused, and you want to kill him. He makes you want to scream and rip your hair off when heâs being slow about important stuff. Totally normal Jaehyun behaviour that can be accepted when situations are not as critical as this one is.
âJaehyun!â You call out his name, frustrated, your raging eyes looking into his confused ones, âA man that was sent to kill us! Not me,â you point your index finger at your chest, and his eyes follow your actions, âUs, Jaehyun. You and me!â You accentuate your words, making sure the words get to his brain and he registers them instead of him hearing you, without listening properly.
âWhat are you even talking about? That man came in and tried shooting you,â he retorts, looking at you like youâre taking things out of proportion.
âBut he didnât come for me! Thatâs what Iâm trying to tell you and you wonât even listen!â Your voice breaks with frustration. At your words, he looks at you, showing you heâs actually all ears right now, prompting you to continue â and you do, âHe pointed that rifle towards me because I was in his radius and he didnât see you! I wasnât even supposed to be there with you to begin with!â
He throws you a sombre look, like youâre finally making the gears in his head turn with your words. His jaw is set and his fingers are unmoving on the zip of his bag, already not thinking about it anymore. You really got his full attention.
âI got there after chasing you, so it was a pure coincidence. He wasnât there for me, he was there for you!â You point at him, hoping heâll understand your logic.
âFuck,â he groans, throwing his head back before looking at you once again.
âHe tried shooting me because he didnât see you, and thatâs also what got him killed. But this proves they sent someone after you, too,â You move your hands around, pointing your hands to him, showing your palms like youâre silently telling him here you go, I told you this was important.Â
âFucking shit,â he mumbles as your words echo in his head, and it all starts making sense.
âYou lost so much precious time playing your little cat and mouse game to terrorise me, that they sent someone to get you for not doing your job!â You accuse him, but youâre getting worked up because you know this shouldnât have happened. If only he actually came for you from the beginning, maybe you would have been more accepting of your fate and ultimate demise instead of running away, just like youâre doing right now.
So you pick up your gun, loading it, and pointing it at Jaehyun â all in under one second.
âWhat the fuck are you doing, Y/n? I thought we were past this. Put that fucking gun down,â he barks, incredibly irked by your actions.
âThis is all your fault. You had to be fucking annoying instead of doing your fucking job you were being paid for! And now thereâs a bounty on your head too!â You raise your voice at him, and you donât care if your neighbours are hearing you. In your head, either one of you wonât be leaving this room alive â and youâre more than sure you want to be the one who goes through this.
âPut. It. Down.â He barks back, like he didnât even hear you. And it only drives you even more insane.Â
âNo!â You spit, turning your gunâs safety off with one finger, and still aiming it at Jaehyunâs head, âYou pick your gun up,â you point at his own weapon on the bed, the one he took out of his own bag just a bit earlier in order to check out, âPick it up!â You scream, and he does as you say, his eyes never leaving yours. âNow turn the safety off,â
He does just as you say, but you know heâs dying to argue back. You see it in his eyes that have now darkened, you see it in his jaw that is now set, you see it in the way heâs literally swallowing down all the words heâs dying to let out.Â
âAnd now what? Youâre going to shoot me?â He asks as calmly as possible, but thereâs something sombre in his chest and if you didnât know him this well, youâd have been afraid of even crossing him.
You shake your head, âYouâre going to shoot me,â and your hand remains steady, no shaking, you have tunnel vision and Jaehyun is the only thing you can see in front of you â like your assassin senses are once again here and have never failed you before.Â
âYouâre insane if you think Iâm going to pull the trigger!â He shakes his head at you, an accusatory tone dripping off his tongue, and he squints his eyes at you in mockery, âListen to me! Weâll get out of this shit!âÂ
âHow?!â You are desperate, but not desperately asking for mercy â youâre desperate trying to make him understand that this is the best for both of you. You donât care anymore, you donât want to be on the run, you donât want to be without Yizhuo and live a life like nothing has happened, âThereâs a bounty on our heads, theyâre out there looking for us, and you know thereâs no going back!âÂ
âWe can pay the penalties! We can get out of this, together!â Heâs starting to lose his patience. Youâre out of your mind thinking heâll actually kill you. He doesnât even know why heâs here, but heâs glad he was the one sent over to find you and that he stalled. He doesnât regret it one bit, but heâs sorry you have to go through so much in order to run away for your life, and heâs also following right behind you â since heâs also in trouble now.Â
All his shattered dreams come back to him, hopeful, like heâs never given up on them, like they have never been stepped on by the old man.
âIâm not paying a fucking shit ton of millions to get out of this,â Youâre calm, and over time this sudden change and sudden calmness of yours had Jaehyun learn not to trust you. Youâre going to have another crash out soon, âJust shoot me! And youâll be able to get out of this even if you stalled! Heâll understand!â You beg him, and your words anger him more than heâs letting on.
âPut the gun down, put it down now,â he warns, and his patience is starting to wear thin, âPut it down or shoot me, Y/n, but make sure not to miss your target,âÂ
You feel your eyes brimming with tears while your gaze is still on him, and you see him putting his arm down, turning his gunâs safety back on and tossing it away somewhere on the floor.
âWhat are you doing?â You panic seeing him walking towards you menacingly calmly.
He gets close to you, sticking his chest to your pointed gun, yet his eyes never leave yours. And like challenging you to do something about the fact that heâs standing vulnerable in front of you, he pushes his body against the gun.
âIâm not shooting you, Y/n,â he rasps, âYouâll have to either shoot me or put down the gun,â he challenges, and youâd really like to pull the trigger right this moment, but your bottom lip starts quivering as you look up at him.Â
Heâs upset, heâs actually raging, but you can see heâs containing every bit of emotion to not blow up on you. You know how he gets when heâs upset, and not the sulky upset you might find endearing â you mean the one in which heâs absolutely terrifying, and no one and nothing shall get in his way.Â
He finally takes your gun away from you, turning the safety back on and scattering it away from the two of you. He doesnât say anything, but in this moment youâd rather he fought you and bickered with you instead of just flaring his nostrils at you.Â
You sit on the bed, not having it in you to look at him, not after the intense moment that just happened, not after you let him know itâs okay to kill you, and especially after he challenged you to shoot him dead and you didnât. You know him so well, and every word you said was true. If he actually killed you, he could still go back to the old man and ask for forgiveness for stalling his mission. Sure, he would have lost the commission promised on the mission, and maybe he could have even been forced to pay penalties for stalling, for having another hitman sent after him â and you, and for killing said hitman. But he was going to be forgiven, he was going to be able to go back to work and still face your former boss. Now heâs in the middle of a shitstorm.
âIâll go take our bags to the car. You go change,â He sighs, taking all weapons away from you, including the bag sitting next to you, âIâll be downstairs,â he mumbles as he opens the door, âPlease be quick, we need to hit the road,âÂ
And he closes the door after himself, with a calmness only specific to Jaehyun and Jaehyun only.
And thatâs how you know itâs bad.
V. NOWHERE AND EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE
The drive to Jaehyunâs next destination was silent, a total nightmare having to sit next to him and feeling so guilty for some reason. You feel like youâve indeed killed someone just as collateral damage and for no other reason whatsoever.Â
Jaehyun was definitely sulking all the time, not exchanging a single word with you. Not asking you anything, and making sure you knew he was ignoring you every single time you asked something like âwhere are we going?â, and âdo you wanna stop for a bit and stretch your legs?â
But he didnât overlook your needs. He took frequent breaks, he allowed you to stretch in the parking lot as he drank three espressos one after the other, he stopped for food every time he thought your stomach grumbled. He made you stay up as he rested in the backseat, but also allowed you to sleep for the entirety of the time he was driving. He did all this while giving you the silent treatment, not asking anything of you but expecting you not to open your mouth either.
You watched his body language, observing everything carefully. Jaw set, eating mints and chewing gum every time he tried fighting off sleep while driving. He hummed along to songs from time to time, and even if he had a recurring thought that he wanted to share with you, he refrained from doing so, not even looking your way.
Three days of this and you were exhausted, you felt like throwing up. Your legs felt like sticks that had absolutely no reason being attached to your body. You havenât had a decent shower or felt the comfort of new clothes ever since you left the last motel, and you would have actually complained if you knew you could get on Jaehyunâs nerves by doing so. But because he kept ignoring you like you werenât even there with him, you just shut your mouth.
But a heavy feeling weighed down on you, eating at your insides as you kept thinking that youâre the reason Jaehyun is behaving this way. Maybe you took it too far, but you genuinely feel like you canât keep doing this. And the thought that Jaehyun is also in great danger because of you makes your insides churn with guilt.Â
Or maybe it isnât your fault after all. You forget all about the guilt â maybe because of just how tired and hungry you are â but maybe itâs his own fault for putting his own life at risk. He could have killed you when he had the chance, right at the beginning â in Beijing â but he dragged it and stalled for so long that heâs now running with you to the middle of nowhere in order to save his own life.
And youâre grateful you actually reach the hotel thatâs supposed to shelter you for a bit until Jaehyun decides to actually talk to you, or until he decides to tell you his plan. Because you know he has one.
He gets the key from the reception, not even bothering to keep an eye on you â maybe because he knows youâre just as exhausted as he is after so many days on the road, he actually lets both your and his bags full of weapons by your feet as he sorts things with the receptionist. He takes you upstairs, and right as you try opening your mouth to talk to him, he walks straight to the bathroom, and you can hear water start running in the shower.
You sigh, plopping down on one of the chairs in the corner of the room, and your head falls on the table. Not that you needed to sit down after three days of doing just that continuously, but youâre honestly exhausted. Your temples throb with every beating of your heart, you feel more exhausted than youâve ever felt before â even more than what you felt when you first ran away in order to reach Beijing.Â
Trying to focus on your breathing in order to block the headache and all the discomfort away, you feel your limbs getting heavier, and the bathroom door opens swiftly. Your senses are flooded by Jaehyunâs scent, his shower gel and cologne that just match each other are very welcomed by your nose, especially right now.
You stand to your feet, trying to keep your balance as best as you can, and you notice heâs changed clothes right before coming out of the bathroom. You need to be the one doing the first step and try to mend this whole thing up, especially because youâre in this together.
âJaehyun, can we-,â but youâre interrupted by the door slamming after him. He left you behind once again, stranded in the middle of nowhere, and he even locked the door like you are his prisoner. Maybe heâs going to finally complete his mission, hoping heâll be able to go back to things as they were before he acted so carelessly. Maybe it really took him three days to understand the weight of your words, and that you were right. The tens of millions that each of you had in your respective bank accounts would never be enough to pay a penalty and go back together, not if you combined the entirety of each otherâs wealth. But he could go back, live for a few months following the old manâs own terms and conditions, and then life would definitely go back to normal.
But it canât be said about you. You donât have all these benefits. The day you left, when you resigned, not only did you resign from your job â you resigned all the rights you had to go on with living a peaceful life. And the day you joined the squad and signed your contract with the old man, you basically gave away all the rights you had over your own life.Â
And you knew it, but you were just out of school â a very impressionable young adult that was just beginning to taste all the flavours of life and independence. And this job surely gave you more than you could bear. Your commission wasnât the biggest or most appealing â at least at the beginning, but it offered you a life that was worth living, and every mission was paid more than what a regular office worker would earn annually in the financial district.Â
Over time, your commission increased with every mission and with every success, and you and Ning never failed any of your missions. Until that one, which cost you so much more than penalties and money. It cost a human life and your whole ability to live peacefully as a member of the squad.Â
You felt itchy â not comfortable with your own body; you felt your mind was the loudest it had ever been and it was driving you insane, and for what? The day it dawned on you that it actually happened, that you actually lost the only important person in your life, you couldnât bear knowing you had to go on and keep living like this, leading the criminal life â even if the money was the best part.Â
But money meant absolutely nothing when you couldnât peel yourself off the floor. It meant nothing when you were alone and hallucinating conversations you never had with Ning, but would have loved to at some point. But it was too late, there was no going back, and you were left looking in a corner like she was speaking to you in person.
You sigh, your skin suddenly covered with goosebumps at the thought of Ning and everything you had to go through, and it actually didnât matter anymore â nothing mattered. Not the sore muscles, not the pain in your bones, not the headache, and certainly not the hunger that made your stomach growl â because after all, it had been more than twelve hours since you last ate, the moment Jaehyun decided it was time for a little break during your drive.
And Jaehyun, now that your mind is back on him, you wish things had gone differently between the two of you. A rivalry that was born out of spite, you wish he would recognise this as well.
You whine in pain as you walk towards the bathroom, taking your own change of clothes out of your bag, and they seem to be among the last few clean clothing items left that you can use without leaving to look for a laundrette. You still donât have your own shower gel, so Jaehyun will have to forgive you once again for using his stuff, and you get under the steamy showers.
Jaehyun. Thereâs so much youâd like to tell him, so many things you need to open his eyes on. Heâs not confrontational, at least with words and feelings. Heâs never been. Heâs hot-headed when it comes to stuff that's not related to work, but heâs the most exemplary member of the squad.Â
He had already been a member of the squad when you joined. Granted that you had to wait a bit more so Yizhuo could complete her training â it also allowed you to get a better training in using knives, beyond the basic levels that were required of you â you actually didnât participate in the first complete training everyone attended. You were flown out to Cuba with your partner in crime for a very special mission, so attending the training in the mountains was out of question, not even the old man thought of sending you back only a few months after completing your full training.Â
So it was a failed opportunity to meet everyone from the squad, that you didnât get. You never met your coworkers. They didnât live in the same city as you and Yizhuo â who basically did everything together, even if you had your own separate apartments â so it was hard to actually meet them outside these training camps.
The old man had mentioned that once a year the squad was set to meet for a joined training session, but he also mentioned the fact that you could get one any time you wanted, and with his lack of active need to add people to the squad after you and Ning joined and made it whole, it was very easy for any of you to show up to the camp in the mountains and train without having newbies around.
And just as you were nearing the one-year mark as a member of the squad, with absolutely no other plans or prospects for a bit until your next mission, you decided to go back where it all began, where you felt like home â you went back to the mountains.Â
While Ning was somewhere in Maui going paragliding, you decided youâd embrace the cool summer mornings the mountains offered you.
Thatâs when you met Jaehyun and his cool motorcycle. Looking at him today, youâd never think he used to be one to search for that kind of adrenaline, messiness, liberty. Heâs so private about his life, nowadays heâs so determined to keep his cool portrayal â but you know how he used to be.
A rebel, someone chasing a liberating feeling that only the speeding of his motorcycle and fast knife skills allowed him to feel like he was living to the fullest.Â
He walked up to you the moment you parked your car next to his motorcycle. He was training just around the corner and heard your engine, and a small dimple formed on his barely contained smile that he showed you as soon as you got out of the car.
He knew you were one of the new additions to the team, he just didnât know which one out of the two you were.
âCottonmouth,â you exhaled, not expecting to meet a member of the squad so suddenly and so soon.
He smiled at you, extending his right hand for you to shake, âDeathstalker.âÂ
You frowned hearing his code name. You knew the categories, what they meant, but you didnât know the code names.Â
âScorpion,â he cleared the confusion for you, still smiling as you nodded at him, your travel bag still in your hand as he kept making small talk with you by your car.Â
You pointed a thumb to your chest, âViper.â
âI know that!â He chuckled, grin reaching his eyes, and he started walking towards the hotelâs entrance. âIâve been dying to meet you,â he confessed while walking after you.
You stopped in your tracks, turning around to look at him, and he almost tripped on your trolley the moment you stopped, making him throw his legs around in order to keep his balance.
âI heard you trained for the shortest period before finally being accepted,â he explained, nervously moving his hands around, âI was curious about your skills.â
You raise your eyebrows at him without even realising, âI⊠Well thatâs not me,â You shake your head, giving him a small smile even if heâs the one raising his brows as you spoke up, âThatâs my partner, Copperhead,â You cleared all confusion between the two of you, except he actually jerked his head as he registered your words, âShe was supposed to be a scorpion just like you, sheâs really great,â
He shook his head, âNo, I know your reputation around here as a duo. Youâre the one who had a shorter training period,â he pointed at you, and dang it â he was so sure of himself, suddenly the soft façade was replaced by a cocky one that was only normal for someone who knew was being correct about all assumptions. With the amount of confidence dripping off his body language, you thought he could have sold you any lie, and youâd have believed every single word coming out of his mouth.Â
Heâd always been convincing. Maybe it was the confidence given by his looks, or by the fact that he knew he was an elite in his field â one of the best, with a success rate of one hundred percent even at that young age.Â
And at first he didnât bother you, but as days passed you became curious, and the curiosity only made things worse. You started looking for him when you knew he was out training, and you werenât even sure why or how you started training together, but you know you got close quite fast.Â
And it was only normal for it to happen, as you were the only ones on that mountain. You trained together, you got to know each other and, after a bit, you stopped using code names.Â
You cleaned together, you cooked together, you shared a pot of ramyeon on the patio as you sat in front of an impromptu bonfire. No one lived around your area, yet surprisingly he knew his way around, he had stories to tell, places to review and share his opinion on with you.Â
Awkward handshakes became sharing a blanket on the patio as you also shared a cigarette â he was the one to light them up, and he offered you a smoke from time to time. Limbs crashing during physical training became intertwined arms as you walked around, which ultimately became lingering touches. A strand of hair away from your eyes, hands touching as both of you reached for something at the same time. Yet nothing more happened, keeping it in the safe territory for the sake of your jobs.
You left the training camp and you kept in touch, and somehow he was âin the areaâ, your area, once every two weeks. You knew he was lying, you knew he had no missions in your city. You knew he always came by in order to see you.
For some reason, Jaehyun always came back to you like a moth to a flame, and he never failed to show you just how much he was enjoying his time with you â in the most respectful of ways. And then he started holding your hand when you went out for a walk around the city, he started leaving some of his stuff around your place, he started taking you out for dinner while sharing bits of his life with you. He started being more affectionate, a bit bolder every time he came around, every time he drank a bit more than his normal limit. Stealing kisses as you dropped him at the airport when he had to go back home and prepare for a mission.
And you thought it was going in the right direction. After all the nice moments spent together, you could actually see the two of you were going somewhere. And all the signs coming from him showed that he felt the same way.Â
The mandatory annual training session with the whole squad came around a few months after you and Jaehyun started seeing each other â when he supposedly had missions in your city and he forgot the way back to his own home, living with you for a bit before work called him back for duty.
And your coworkers became your friends soon after. Yes, sure, you werenât on first-name basis with them like you were with Jaehyun or Ning, but it was nice to get to know them and finally opening up after a few weeks together â time that led to all of them dropping the code names in front of you.Â
By the third week, the old man came around, and you were filled in on the traditions. He was going to put you into pairs and have you compete against each other in the same categories. But they reassured you that you were going to be paired with someone with your same strength and gender, and that it was just for fun.
âI have an amazing idea!â The old man clapped his hands as he bit into a peach, âLetâs have Deathstalker and Cottonmouth fight each other!â He laughed, grin reaching his eyes as he could barely contain his excitement.
There was a general whisper that filled your ears, âWhat?â Everyone whispered to each other, and you looked at the old man hoping you didnât hear him right.Â
He raised one finger, waggled it in the air before pointing it at you, and then gestured for you to get in the middle. One look at Jaehyun and you knew he didnât want this either. Jaw set, nostrils flaring in anger, you had never seen this side of him. He kept his arms behind his back as he got in the middle to join you, avoiding your gaze like he couldnât even bring himself to look at you.
The shift in his mood made your stomach drop, because he could at least have looked your way. Yet he didnât, and when you were once again prompted to fight each other, he only let his arms loose â with them falling freely around his figure.Â
You heard a gun loading, and the old man shot it blindly up in the sky â not aiming at anything or anyone in particular, but that was your first warning that you had to get into positions.Â
And then Jaehyun did get into position to get ready to fight you, and that hurt you more than one of his punches would have. But looking in introspection right now, as youâre using his shower gel and expensive shampoo, what was he supposed to do? Have both of you shot because you refused to take orders from your boss?
Your memory is blank, you donât remember how it started, you just knew that you were the one who did. And you took some punches as well, it was inevitable â but you tried your best to affirm yourself and fight Jaehyun. Because after all, what else could you have done? Were you supposed to wait for Jaehyun â who was known for having the force of a brute, especially during physical fighting â to punch you repeatedly? So you fought like your life depended on it, and it wasnât that it actually did, but you couldnât afford to get too hurt.
Jaehyun lost, but you were exhausted, and you knew he let you win.
âJaehyun, wait!â You called after him as you followed his steps towards his room. After being dismissed by the even more cheerful voice belonging to the old man, Jaehyun left fuming, âI said wait!â
âWhat?â He barked, turning around to look at you. âWhat is it?â
âWhy did you let me win?â You asked him, trying to understand what was going on behind those raging eyes. Yes, he let you win and you knew it â everyone knew it. You were positive you could have become just dust in the wind if he took the fight seriously.
âI didnât let you win,â his tone was sombre, like he was trying to wrap up the conversation before it even started properly.
âHey!â You snarled, touching his arms to bring his attention back on you once he turned his back to you, âWhat is going on? Why did this even happen?â You tried understanding why everything had to unfold the way it did. They told you it was all for fun and to test each otherâs abilities, yet it took a turn when you and Jaehyun were brought up. On top of it all, Jaehyun barely touched you, barely looked at you, and he evidently let you win. It didnât matter just how much damage you tried to cause him, two punches and a kick from him and you were going to disintegrate into thin air.
âNothing happened, and I didnât let you win!â He barked back at you, snatching his arm out of your grasp, âCongratulations, Cottonmouth!â And with that, he left you behind.
From that day on, things changed forever. No more Jaehyun dropping by unexpectedly, no more Jaehyun texting or calling you, no more Jaehyun exchanging cheeky jokes and looks with you. No more Jaehyun.
Not even a glance thrown your way during the annual squad training in the mountains. Everything changed, everything seemed like all the good times spent with Jaehyun might as well have been all in your head, and in reality, he hated your existence and the air you breathed.Â
And isnât it ironic, that he was also the one being sent after you? Isnât it ironic, that after ten years of rivalry, youâre now in the shower using his products and smelling just like him?
Your muscles are thanking you for the scorching hot water you blessed them with. Your skin has never been as hungry for a steamy shower as it is right now.Â
You feel slightly better after you shower, and when you exit the bathroom with your hair still damp, Jaehyun also walks into the hotel room, carrying bags in his arms.
He sets them down, opens a bottle of water to take a sip, all while still not paying attention to you. Maybe both of you need to rest, sleep on it at least for tonight, and maybe things will be better in the morning.
You get under the covers, bare legs touching the cool sheets, and youâve never been more ecstatic to actually feel your head hit the pillow, and youâre sure you can fall asleep in a millisecond as soon as you close your eyes.
But rustling around the room distracts you once again, and you open your eyes to throw a look at Jaehyun and what he might be doing.Â
âWhat do you think youâre doing?â You panic. Seeing his navel wasnât on your to-do list tonight.Â
He stops his movements, holding his t-shirt in his hands before looking at you, sporting a puzzled look on his face.
âIâm changing,â He says, but it comes out more as a question.Â
âNo,â you blurt out while looking at him, and you think youâre in a staring contest with the man. âYouâre not changing, youâre stripping,â You correct him.
âYeah,â He says, but it comes out as a question once again, âI kinda need to do that to change myself,â He doesnât bother looking back at you, heâs looking for another t-shirt laying around the room, a cleaner one anyway.Â
You see his head emerge through the neck of the t-shirt he chose to wear. His black, fluffy hair bouncing in different directions before he passes a hand through it. He reaches for the edge of the bed throw, and you panic once again.
âNo,â You shake your head, looking at him from your spot on the bed. âWhat do you think youâre doing?â You ask again, and he halts his actions once more.Â
âIâm getting into bed?â He asks, and he knows heâs doing nothing wrong, but seeing you so set on asking stupid questions, he thinks youâre playing a push-and-pull game.Â
âWhat do you mean youâre getting into bed? This bed?â You raise your voice a bit, but you shut your mouth immediately, remembering that you need to keep quiet because no one needs to know youâre in this room.
âDo you see any other bed here, Y/n?â You recognise his tone and how youâre pissing him off, and youâre making an impossible effort not to start another fight with him.Â
âI wonât sleep in the same bed as you, Jaehyun,â You mutter, throwing him a warning look that you hope he understands. But even if he does, he ignores you.Â
âSuit yourself,â He mumbles while pulling the throw a bit before getting into bed next to you, âI need to rest.â
You throw the blanket covering your legs, pulling yourself away from the headboard, so you can turn around on your spot on the bed in order to look at him. You think thereâs smoke coming out of your nose and ears, and you look at him, with his stupid, fluffy head resting peacefully on his pillow.
âCut me some slack, Y/n,â He sighs, rubbing his eyes, âI even went out alone and brought you food,â
âAnd whose fault is that?â You raise your voice once again, âYou left me here alone, Jaehyun. So donât act like itâs my fault you went out by yourself and youâre extremely tired right now,â You press your index finger repeatedly on his chest as you make your accusations.
âYou know what? Fine.â He gets out of bed before you can blink twice, pulling his pillow away from the bed. âIâll sleep on the fucking floor and tomorrow youâll go out by yourself and get some food for me,â He retorts angrily, not even looking you in the eye.
You see him looking for a spare towel, which he throws on the floor in anger, his pillow following suit.Â
The blanket he chose not to pull away from you suddenly burns your skin, and guilt starts pooling in the pit of your stomach as you see him turning the lamp lights off and getting on the floor on top of that towel.Â
You donât move, still consumed by the sudden guilt thatâs eating you from inside, and youâre not sure how many minutes pass with you staying still in your spot on the bed, exactly how he left you. You wait to see if his breathing has changed or if heâs starting to snore lightly like he usually does, but you donât hear anything.
You turn the lamp on your bedside table back on, and swiftly crawl towards the foot of the bed, to see him frowning and lying on his side on the floor.
âJaehyun? Are you sleeping?â You whisper, hoping heâll be kind enough to react instead of ignoring you because you upset him.
âGo to bed, Y/n, Iâm not in the mood to fight,â He groans, not bothering to move an inch from his spot on the cold floor.
âCome to bed, Iâm sorry,â Your voice is filled with regret, and he thinks he misheard you or that he misunderstood your tone.
He gets up, pulling his pillow after him. You crawl back to your side and you see him turning the lamp lights back off before settling comfortably on his side of the bed.Â
His cologne fills your senses, and then you hear him sigh once again â and you know heâs about to fall asleep this time, finally in the comfort of this bed.
You sleep for the entirety of the next day, and it surprises Jaehyun. To the point that heâs actually checking if youâre still breathing. You feel him hovering and bringing his hand to your face a few times throughout your sleep, but you donât wake up because frankly, you donât care.Â
So you toss and turn, move around, you donât even feel your leg touching Jaehyunâs or the fact that you actually take over the bed like itâs your own, nearly making him fall out of it.
You only wake up when you hear the door closing, and you straighten up, panicking.
âWoah, careful,â Jaehyun mumbles, walking around the room. You look at him through your lashes, eyes still so sleepy even after the sleep marathon, which your entire body is thankful for, âI thought we said youâd be going out to buy food today,â he mumbles, still standing in front of your figure on the bed, âI was gonna starve waiting for you to wake up,â
âHow many hours did I sleep for?â You stretch, whimpering at the nice feeling of your rested muscles finally regaining mobility and energy.Â
He looks at you, unsure if he should say it or not, âEighteen,â he takes a sip out of a cup, hiding his smile behind its rim. âHere,â he extends a cup towards you, âCoffee,â and you could already tell by the smell.Â
You gladly take it, sipping on the still-warm beverage that was just too perfect. Perfect amount of sugar, no milk, just how you liked it. You look up at Jaehyun only to notice him already looking down at you, cup still up to his lips.Â
Thereâs a lump forming in your throat at the way heâs looking at you, at the fact that he still remembers how you liked your coffee, and maybe even at the fact that heâs talking to you right now.Â
He plops down on the bed right next to you, âYou need to eat, thereâs yesterdayâs burrito still waiting for you,â
âCan we talk?â You gulp, not looking at him. In fact, your eyes are glued to the lid covering your cup, looking at the imprint that your lips have left behind.Â
âWe are talking,â he sighs, and if you didnât feel so anxious all of a sudden youâd actually throw a punch or two. But the thoughts you had in the shower resurfaced right now, and the fact that both of you are in danger just makes this whole thing more urgent. You need to clear the air, clear all misunderstandings. You might actually die soon, and you have no idea what went wrong all those years back.
âI-â he starts, but is interrupted by your fidgeting as you get yourself in a more comfortable position while sitting down next to his lying figure, âI have a plan. We can make this work, if you trust me,â he mumbles.
And right now, youâd be a fool to even think of not trusting Jaehyun. Maybe he will really make this work this time.Â
âWeâll leave in two days,â he lets you know, and for the first time ever you donât feel like questioning his judgement. If anything happens and you end up dead, youâll be at peace with it, knowing you found your demise trusting the man in front of you, and that you could have gone through that or much worse much earlier. Youâre at peace knowing that you could die trusting Jaehyun and his plan, just as much as you could die running away â itâs a risk youâre willing to take.
Something happened to Jaehyun. Youâre not sure if the thoughts he mulled over and over again in his head made him change his attitude towards you, while just last night it felt like he couldnât even look at you. Or maybe itâs the fact that he got a proper and good sleep, after eating some consistent food instead of sandwiches and junk food you picked up on the road. Or maybe itâs the small walk he went on right before you woke up, during which he bought coffee for both of you.
Whatever it is, you think youâll find out as you look at him and the way he looks at the ceiling, his gears turning inside his head trying to find the right words, or maybe heâs just thinking if he should tell you about the plan right now or later as the two of you hit the road again.
âI talked to a buddy of mine,â he finally rasps, making you flinch in surprise. He turns to look at you, piercing eyes looking straight into your eager ones. âHis nameâs Johnny,â he sits up to take a sip from his coffee cup, âHe can shelter us for as long as we need. Heâll help us out,âÂ
âJohnny?â You ask, the name awfully familiar. But you canât remember meeting anyone named like this, and youâre sure the name might seem familiar after hearing it somewhere.Â
âI know you donât know him, but we can trust him,â Jaehyun nods, avoiding your gaze. He looks awfully suspicious, but your senses arenât making the alarms in your head go off, and so you nod, making Jaehyun get visibly relaxed, âThatâs where I was⊠I used a payphone a few miles away and called him,â
You smile at him, encouraging him to tell you a bit more about the plan, and thereâs a sparkle in Jaehyunâs eyes as he starts gabbing about what he and Johnny talked about on the phone.
And suddenly, watching as his features soften and his complexion lightens up as he speaks, your heart skips a beat realising this is the Jaehyun you knew and missed, and that heâs coming back to you.
VI. WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE
Jaehyunâs plan was simple. Get to Johnny, whose house was supposedly going to be the perfect shelter for the two of you â assassins who had multiple bounties on their heads â and you could stay there as long as needed.Â
You know Jaehyun well enough to know he hasnât disclosed everything to you, only the parts convenient to his perfect story making it past his lips. His rambling felt delicious, and you took great pleasure in seeing him so relaxed while talking to you. No more tiptoeing, no more gulping down confrontational talks â you and Jaehyun needed to get along in order to make the plan work.Â
The only possible problem that could have hindered your sweet escape? Being detected as you left the country, and you saw Jaehyun stiffening the moment he explained to you that Johnnyâs private jet couldnât reach you, so a one-way ticket on a normal airline was your only option.Â
Together, you managed to travel undetected while using your fake idâs â you wanted to use one of the many they forged for you in Okinawa, but Jaehyun knew a guy. Thereâs always a guy. And he couldnât risk having your fake idâs traced down and you to be found.
After landing, the two of you got into a cab, because Jaehyun thought that staying together meant not getting caught easily. If it meant having two very well-trained pairs of eyes to look out for possible dangers, then the two of you were definitely going to stick together.Â
âYouâre staring,â Jaehyun finally speaks up after the two of you manage to make it safe and sound away from the airport. A bandana is keeping his hair covered, expensive sunglasses perfectly placed on the bridge of his perfect nose. If he didnât seem suspicious, your staring at him certainly made him look so.
You shrug, following him under the scorching sun as you make your way through the thick crowds, and you grab the hand he extends behind himself, for you to anchor yourself to. You have no belongings with you, having discarded of everything as soon as you managed to leave the airport behind after landing.
You shrug, albeit he canât really see you, âYou seem to know your way around,âÂ
You hear him huff a laugh, and he turns his head to look at you, one dimple on display, âI told you, Johnny and I go way back. I know how to get around his city,â
There seems to be something Jaehyun wants to add, but refrains from doing so. Instead, he just drops your hand, and walks in front of you in order to make way for the two of you among the sea of tourists wandering on the streets.
Youâre glad you donât have a problem with crowds and crowded spaces, because this is the perfect place and perfect time to lose yourself and to have some sort of panic attack.
 Jaehyun takes you to a secluded area, a whole lot of huge storage units, and you follow behind him like a lost puppy. His broad shoulders are clad in a black t-shirt that kisses his muscles just the right way, his jeans make his legs even longer, as if that is possible. You look at yourself, and then at him, and you think youâd definitely think you look suspicious if you saw anyone going around like the two of you are. Or maybe youâre too self aware, and nobody really cares about you and Jaehyun, yet you still need to keep an eye on your surroundings.Â
Jaehyun starts whistling a new tune as he nearly trots towards one of the storage units, at the end of the whole lot. He seems to be able to compartmentalise his energy more efficiently than you, because after travelling and getting your way around the city up to this point, youâre absolutely exhausted. But Jaehyun is in a good mood, heâs relaxed, almost as if he truly knows this place to perfection. And it really leads you to question one essential thing, who is Johnny? And what kind of connection is there between him and Jaehyun? Jaehyun never mentioned him up until a few days ago, not even all those years back when you two started getting to know each other.
The tune Jaheyun is whistling is a different one â no more Goodnight Moon, and you canât seem to recognise it right this moment. But he goes on to humming it as he presses his digits onto the fancy lock of the storage unit.Â
âGet in,â he instructs as he looks around the two of you for any kind of suspicious movements, or any suspicious presence in your proximity.Â
You follow his instructions, and you get rid of your own sunglasses trying to accommodate your vision to the darkness of the storage. The place is cooler than the scorching outside you were already beginning to dread, but the air inside feels musty due to the humidity you feel even as you breathe.Â
Thereâs a jeep parked in the middle of the storage, the surrounding walls adorned with shelves, and all sorts of equipment. Jaehyun climbs on a shelf, grabbing a box from all the way back, and bringing it down with himself.
Youâre confused, but you donât ask questions. You agreed youâd trust him, so you choose to gulp down all the curiosity and questions already suffocating you.
His slender fingers rummage around the box he just took off the shelf, and he fishes for something â a key, which he uses in order to unlock the jeep. You watch him as he doesnât say a word to you, instead he goes on rummaging through boxes. He brings another one off a shelf, opening it to reveal a whole lot of different plates â and he seems to know which one he needs to look for.Â
He keeps whistling his tune, foreign to your ears, while he sticks the new plates to the front and back of the jeep.Â
âAnd now, baby,â he claps his hands, not even looking at you, going straight towards one of the safes in the corner of the unit and putting the code in, unlocking it. âCome here,â he fishes for something, and the moment he brings it up for you to see, you recognise itâs a knife bag.
His agile fingers unroll it open, and deadly sharpened tools sparkle in the lighting of the unit.Â
Jaehyun lets out a low whistle, throwing you a look soon after, âYou remember how to use these?âÂ
You gulp, looking at everything rolled out in front of you. You remember how to use them, but youâre sure your skills are a bit rusty. You nod almost imperceptibly, but itâs enough for Jaehyun to roll the bag close once again, sliding it towards you.
âGood,â he comments before looking for something else inside the safe, probably other weapons, âEven if you think youâre rusty, I know youâll be fine using them,â
He picks up cases that look an awful lot like your clarinet case, and youâre excited looking at how he opens them up for you to scrutinise their insides, âAre we going to take these with us?â You ask him, and he hums in confirmation, âHow are we going to travel with this amount of deadly weapons?â
Jaehyun looks at you, and you almost see pride glinting in his gaze. âThe jeep has hollow spaces that weâll use,â
And he doesnât lose any more time, loading the jeep and sneaking every single weapon he got out of the safe, in every single space he knew was available for coverage inside the jeep. Secret pockets, secret spots in the jeepâs floor that had the perfect holes, hollow spaces inside the backseat â that were waiting for the clarinet cases to make them whole again.Â
You then depart, and although you feel dizzy with the amount of questions overflowing your mind, one look at Jaehyun and seeing how relaxed heâs being, and you exhale the breath you didnât know you were holding in.Â
You know where heâs taking you â Johnnyâs estate, somewhere safe, secluded, protected by technology and nature. The curiosity is eating you alive, and you promise yourself that if by bedtime Jaehyun doesnât give you all the explanations he avoided giving, youâll go back to your old ways and chew his ears off.Â
The radio is loud, Jaehyun is speeding on the highway, and for some unknown reason you feel safe â at peace. Like you have always wanted to do this, like you were always meant to do this with Jaehyun. Even in the most critical moment, youâre probably going to still trust Jaehyun. It doesnât matter how this ordeal ends, as long as Jaehyun gets to live.Â
You reach the foot of a mountain, a forest welcoming your car and engulfing you underneath the dark and cool shadows of the trees. Jaehyun makes frequent stops along the way, and uses a small remote to deactivate security sensors placed along the trails, leaving you impressed.
 Yet curiosity overpowers how impressionable you are right now, and by the time you reach the mansion located deep into the heart of the forest, your tongue is itching to speak up and ask the one billion questions Jaehyun has coming his way.
The car stops, and the loud radio starts playing a song that seems almost too familiar, like itâs been terrorising you all day â and it really has. Guns nâ Rosesâs tune starts playing, and you recognise the melody almost immediately.
You notice Jaehyun turning around to look at you, giving you a dimpled smile, âWelcome to the jungle, baby!â He sings along to the radio, right before jumping out of the car.
But before you can make any comments, he slams the door shut despite its heaviness, and you see him running towards the entrance to the mansion.
The huge door opens slowly, and Jaehyun stops in his tracks waiting for the person to come out.Â
A tall man laughs loudly, grin reaching his eyes as he reaches Jaehyunâs figure by taking only two steps. His white teeth are on display, and creases form around his eyes as he hugs Jaehyun tightly, seemingly not even paying attention to the car door slamming after yourself, or the small and careful steps you take towards the two.
You never knew Jaehyun could be this close to someone, hugging and laughing as the other man makes comments that only the two of them can hear.
You approach them slowly, and you stop just as they sense you, breaking the hug.Â
âI canât believe youâre here,â the man slaps Jaehyunâs biceps with excitement, looking him up and down, âI canât believe you finally asked for my help,â
You see Jaehyun raising his shoulders, but the words fail to come past his lips as you see him noticing your silhouette approaching the two of them. Words, and the tens of questions that pop up in your mind, get stuck in your throat as you are making an incredible effort not to break your promise made to Jaehyun â you promised youâd trust him, not question his judgement with every single decision taken.
The man lets Jaehyun go, and his expressive eyes meet yours, âCottonmouth!â He greets you, his smile reaching his eyes, âIâm Mamushi. Nice to meet ya!â
You can feel your pupils dilating after registering his words. Mamushi? Is this man a member of your squad?
âHeâs a viper,â Jaehyun confirms for you, and your eyebrows furrow, a small crease forming right in between them. If this man is part of your squad, then does Jaehyun bringing you here mean youâre in danger?
âUsed to be,â Jaehyun corrects himself, seeing as youâre reluctant to shake hands with the man who approached you, âThis is Johnny,â
Mamushi â or Johnny â snaps to look at Jaehyun, whoâs now standing closer to you, probably out of fear that you might be going to cause a scene.Â
âYou told her my name? What happened to keeping our identities safe?âÂ
Jaehyun shrugs, âYou knew hers already,â he avoids your gaze as he touches the bandana covering his hair â and you know heâs doing this to make sure his ears are covered, a clear sign that he feels embarrassment creeping up his spine and going straight to his ears. If Jaehyun can lie, the same canât be said about his ears â and itâs nice to see that he hasnât changed this aspect about himself.Â
He fixes his bandana on his head, as if it even moved ever since you left the airport all those hours ago, and a smile creeps up your features looking at how endearing and childish heâs being. Heâs protecting his ears the best he can, but you know. You know him.Â
Johnny turns around to look at you, âNice to meet you, Y/n,â Heâs handsome, the look in his eyes is strangely comforting, and for a moment you forget why youâre here, âDonât worry, you guys are safe here,â he gestures for you to follow him inside the mansion, closing the door after you, and you see Jaehyun waiting at the foot of the stairs, âI hope you guys are hungry, I bought enough food to feed an army,â
âThank you for this, Johnny,â You finally speak up, feeling like you need to let him know that beside the initial shock, youâre very grateful for being here â in the comfort and safety of his estate.Â
The whole place feels safe. Huge mansion inside of which youâre sure youâll lose yourself, the floors are marbled, luxury meets modernism in a classy cream decor that somehow manages to make everything warmer to the eye and more welcoming of you.Â
Johnny smiles at you once again, guiding you towards the stairs, âJaehyun, you know your way to your room. Y/nâs right next to yours,âÂ
If you knew Johnny, youâd think his tone got lighter as he gave Jaehyun instructions, and maybe Jaehyunâs reaction could be enough of a hint that you donât need to know Johnny personally to know you might have been right. Jaehyun starts going up the stairs, not waiting for you, and he leaves you behind before you can notice his ears.
After settling in your room and allowing yourself to spend time by yourself for the first time in a week, you decide to return downstairs in hopes that youâll get the answers youâve been desperately looking for for whole days.Â
Johnnyâs mansion is indeed huge. Your room and adjacent bathroom alone are the size of your apartment from back home, the hallways are huge, spacey, long, and you feel like youâre in a maze as you try to make your away around. You pass Jaehyunâs room, his door left ajar, but you're not curious to see how it looks on the inside â one pending question in particular still bothering you.
Who is Johnny? And how is he so close to Jaehyun?Â
Jaehyun seems to know his way around the place. Knows the traps on the trails that lead to the mansion, seems to know the security codes, seems to feel at home here. Yet you know he doesnât have brothers, he doesnât have cousins, heâs all alone â just like you are. And with Johnny being a viper from your squad, you wonder why youâve never heard of him before â not from Jaehyun, not from anybody else.Â
But thanks to the topic of Johnny being from your circle, thereâs an inevitable question that pops up in your brain. How did Johnny manage to get out? Did he pay a penalty â that unlike Jaehyun, youâre refusing to do â or did he fake his own death? But then again, you can never get away and fully escape as if youâve fallen off the face of the earth â unless dead. Which Johnny obviously isnât, and more questions flood your tired mind as you try not to get lost looking for the staircase taking you downstairs.
Your temples throb as you think of all the possibilities, and your mind seems stuck on Jaehyun.
And eventually, you manage to keep your mouth shut â but only until you sit down at the huge dinner table, because despite the food cooked by Johnny being delicious, the food gets stuck in your throat with every glance you take at Jaehyun and his friend, talking carelessly like youâre not even here. You donât mind Johnny trying to make small talk with you, but you feel out of place, everything feels forced, and you canât shake away the feeling that theyâre hiding something from you. Something important.Â
And again, even if this isnât the case, even if theyâre not hiding anything but your mind learned to be full of paranoia given the last few months of being on the run, thereâs still the fact that Johnny used to be part of your squad, used to be a criminal â probably still is, he used to have a proper code name.
âY/n,â Jaehyun calls your name, and you snap out of your own thoughts, fork dropping and clicking against the expensive china plate, âYou good?â
âI-â you pause, gulping your words down. But one look at his face makes you realise youâve been patient enough, and you trusted him and his words up until this moment. And with the fact that all three of you are now exposed to a dangerous criminal circle makes you think that they do, indeed, need to give you some sort of explanation. âWhen will you tell me whatâs going on?â You set your fork aside, finally bringing your hand up to push your plate away, âI donât even know why weâre here. And while I trust you, you canât expect me to shut up forever⊠You know me better than this,â
Jaehyun nods, chewing the last bit of his steak as he tries to find the right words. Yes, youâre right, he knows you better than this, but was it so bad that he was hoping youâd trust him blindly?
The circumstances donât help him, or the two of you together, either.
While youâre the one who needs to be on the run, your supposed assassin is just in as much trouble as you after stalling with his mission â and now youâre both on the run. While he certainly doesnât want to die, neither can he just go back and ask for forgiveness, and God knows Jaehyun is the last person who should bow his head in front of your boss, after the many years he did nothing but endure so much shit coming from that old man.Â
âWho are you?â You turn to face Johnny, âHow do you have a code name but Iâve never seen you around?â Youâre tired of having to wait for Jaehyun to answer your questions.Â
âI was part of the squad before you came along,â Johnny explains calmly, like he has been waiting for you to finally snap, âThen I left and never looked back,â
You huff, still not understanding why heâs beating around the bush, âAnd how did you leave? Did you pay the penalty or something? Because to me it doesnât seem like youâre on the run,âÂ
Johnny shakes his head, throwing Jaehyun a quick look right before looking right back at you, âI didnât pay no penalty,â
âSee?â You cry out, confused and on the verge of starting a fight with Jaehyun, who avoided talking to you about any of this, âI know nothing about this? You might as well just kill me while Iâm here because you,â you turn to look at Jaehyun, âNever told me anything about what I should or should not expect from this plan of yours,â
Johnny interrupts you, âIâm not on the run, because Iâm the old manâs son,â he pauses, and while your head snaps to look at him, all shocked, his gaze holds yours like he didnât just drop some of the most insane statements youâve ever heard.
âYouâre⊠what?â You question, a lump setting in your throat and making it hard for you to swallow. Are you in danger?
âYouâre not in danger,â Jaehyun comments, knowing what goes on inside your mind, âI told you you can trust me, weâre safe here,â
âHow?â Youâre beginning to lose your calm after hearing Jaehyunâs reassuring tone. Thereâs a billion things going on inside your mind, and your ears start ringing once again.Â
âY/n,â Johnny tries to get you to spare him a look, âMy father is one of the worst criminals to have ever roamed this earth, can you really blame me for going no contact and leaving the squad behind?â
The look in his eyes makes him seem sincere, but even if you trust his words, thereâs Jaehyunâs lack of communication that makes you want to go ballistic on him. Itâs like he never listens to you, itâs like he doesnât know you. Itâs like he knows what needs not to be done when it comes to you, yet he does the opposite â like heâs doing all this on purpose, waiting to manipulate and drive you insane. Â
âSo he just let you go?â You ask Johnny, not having it in you to spare Jaehyun another glance, because you know youâre going to start a fight.
Johnny laughs, but heâs not amused, âI wish,â and the look he gives you is enough for you to realise youâre grateful heâs here to tell you all about this, âY/n, I need you to understand that Iâve been through this, my own father did unspeakable things the moment I wanted to leave, so itâs obvious to everybody that heâd do so much worse to you and Jaehyun,â He turns around to look at Jaehyun, but the latter is avoiding your gaze, lost deep in thought and youâre not sure heâs even paying attention to what Johnny has to say right now, âBut I promise you, this is the safest place for you two right now. Not because he canât know or canât look for you here, but because things have been somewhat settled and the danger isnât as imminent right now,â he goes on explaining, and you feel bad.
You feel bad because youâre questioning this man you didn't even know until a few hours ago. You feel bad because ever since you left the circle you lost yourself and your ability to trust people, along with your peace and confidence. And thereâs Jaehyun, who could have told you about all this before you made a fool of yourself, he could have let you inside his head for a bit â and he chose not to, the usual walls built around himself for some unknown reason youâre now too tired to try and get to the bottom of.
âJaehyun called and asked for my help, he told me everything about your situation. Iâm extremely glad youâre both here and I can assure you weâll get you out of this. I promise,â his reassuring tone does nothing to calm you down, and you tremble with skepticism.
A little over two weeks go by with you and Jaehyun staying at Johnnyâs, but not even a day went by before Johnny pulled you outside, making you start your physical training in order to get back in shape. âItâs important for the plan,â he said.Â
The plan was simple, or at least they made it seem like it was. But you know â and youâre sure they do as well, itâs going to be tough. Theoretically everything seems to be doable and simple, but in reality itâs going to be a living hell.
So Johnny trained with you, and even if the intensity of your workout wasnât as tough as the training you got in the mountains, it still helped you get back on track. No more ankles popping at sudden movements, no more losing balance, no more ears ringing â for the most part, in which you werenât in your own head, falling victim to your own thoughts and making the paranoia engulf and suffocate you.
âWhy are you doing this?â You ask him right after throwing a kick. âTo your own father?â
Johnny frowns for a split second, his features relaxing as soon as he straightens his back. Fringe kept off his sweaty forehead with two small hair clips, his grey tank top is damp and sticking to his torso. You definitely hit a nerve, even if heâs trying to shake it off and return to his usual good spirits.
âWe have unfinished business,â he explains, taking a sip of water from his bottle, and then looks at you, âYou also have unfinished business. So itâs easier if we just team up,â
âI do?â You question, giving him a quizzical look. Apart from you resigning and going away after messing up a mission, youâd think your time in the squad wasnât problematic.Â
âYes? Think about the way he set you and Jaehyun up now and all those years ago?â Johnny looks at you like youâre stupid, like something is not registering inside your brain. And then you see a slight change in demeanour, like something has just dawned on him, âYou havenât talked to Jaehyun about this, did you?â
You shake your head, snatching the fight gloves away from your hands and wrists, and you feel rage suffocating you. Youâre not even sure why the lump in your throat is making it difficult for you to swallow, but itâs becoming too much when scenes from the past pop up in your head like passing flashbacks. Not here to stay, but enough to unsettle you.Â
And this is the main problem, you never knew what happened all those years ago, and to find out from Johnny that Jaehyun actually has an explanation for it all makes you choke up with betrayal. Because you suffered like a dog in pain after Jaehyun had to fight you in front of everybody, and how that broke any kind of bond the two of you had.
But youâre not surprised, knowing how Jaehyun isnât confrontational, how he doesnât speak his mind until itâs too late, how heâs avoidant. And he is avoidant, especially after the two of you settled here for the meanwhile, you havenât been able to talk to him except for the times Johnny was also present.Â
Youâre starting to resent him once again, and you know that this wonât do any good to either one of you, especially now that youâre on a new mission.
You find him swimming in the indoor pool, long limbs flapping and kicking around, and he doesn't notice you. And when he finally stops and notices you standing on the side of the pool waiting for him to come out, he takes the small glasses off, placing them on top of his head.Â
He knows you well enough to know you want something from him, like a talk or a fight or something else, and he canât deny that he saw this coming. With the way heâs managed to avoid you and your questions for the past few weeks â miraculously so â heâs surprised you managed to give him all this space. He knew you popping out of nowhere to corner him was inevitable, and heâs about to face the consequences of all his typical stalling.
âWe need to talk,â You let him know as soon as he gets out of the pool, a few feet away from the point youâre standing in.
âWe always need to talk,â he comments, and his words rub you the wrong way.
âWe always do, yes,â you bark back at him, seeing as he grabs a towel from the nearby beds, âI honestly think you feel some sort of sick pleasure in seeing me harassing you, because otherwise why would you avoid talking to me when things arenât blowing out of proportion?â
He frowns after hearing your words, but like the typical Jaehyun always does, he keeps his mouth shut, letting you continue, âWhy do we always do this? You never talk to me when the time is right, you wait for shit to hit the fan, so of course I canât help it but have fights with you. Do you understand what Iâm saying?â
You feel like youâre trying to explain this to a child. Because a twenty eight year old shouldnât have to make you go through this. You want transparency, especially because you arenât enemies anymore, youâre on the same team and need this to work out if you want to go on living.
âWhat exactly did Johnny tell you?â His question makes you want to punch him in the throat, with the way heâs looking at you, wet hair slicked back, holding his towel around his shoulders like that is going to protect him from a possible attack of yours.
âWhat happened ten years ago?â You reply with a question, and the pain in your tone seems almost suffocating.Â
Jaehyun closes his eyes, sighing. Things should never be this complicated, and for some reason you think heâs the one making everything so impossibly intricate.
âI was going to talk to you about it,â he tries reasoning with you.
âWhen?â You bark, clapping your hands, âBefore or after killing me?â
He squints his eyes, and for a moment you think heâs hurt by your words, âDonât do this. You know I stalled because I didnât want to kill you in the first place. Thatâs the reason why he sent another killer after both you and me this time, you said it yourself,â
But you donât allow him to continue, the possibility that he might end up manipulating you in his favour making you lose your patience.
âWhy did he send you after me?â But the way he avoids your gaze is a slight confirmation of your suspicions, âIs this connected to the fight we had ten years ago?â You try asking, tone calm, but you feel suffocated with emotion.Â
Just how many things did Jaehyun keep away from you â and most importantly, why?
âAnswer me!â You feel like you're choking, and you see him nodding before his gaze finally locks with yours.
âHe knew about us,â your suspicions are confirmed, and you wait for him to finally explain everything to you, âHeâs a sick motherfucker,â he laughs, bringing his palms to his eyes before looking back at you, âHe found out about us, he made us fight against each other and dared me to win against you,â
âDared you?â It doesnât make sense. If he wanted the two of you to fight against each other, why would he talk to Jaehyun privately?
âHe said that if I won against you, he was gonna make me shoot you in front of everybody,â Jaehyunâs words make your stomach drop, and you feel like hurling everything you had for breakfast, âHe was obsessed with you, Y/n. He still is,â
He looks like heâs being genuine, but thereâs no way for you to know this right now, not with the amount of emotions taking over you. Did the old man send Jaehyun â specifically him, to kill you because he wants to hurt the two of you for kindling something all those years ago?
âI couldnât do that, Y/n. I cared so much and I couldnât kill you just because he was obsessed with you and didnât want you to be with anyone else,â he rasps, and his words do nothing to calm you down. All this explaining is messing with your feelings, because while you learned to leave everything behind and forget about the feelings you once had for Jaehyun, it is incredibly hurtful to navigate the past and every thought of what could have happened between the two of you had it not been for this sick obsession youâre only now learning about.
âHe said that heâd personally put a bullet through your head, if he found out I didnât cut you off after that day. I had to do it to protect you,â he tries getting closer to you, but you stop him, raising one arm to keep him away.
âAnd you couldnât tell me all this back then?â You feel like crying, and youâre sure your gaze gives you away.
âHow?â He finally snaps, raising his voice at you, âI needed to protect you! And what were you even gonna do about it? Fight him? Kill him? Run away with me? Heâd have found us and killed us both like rats in the sewers,â heâs losing his patience, and you know heâs about to let a thousand words past his lips at the speed of light. Because while he usually keeps to himself and doesnât let anyone know anything that might be going on inside his head, Jaehyun has the habit of simply exploding and letting every single pent up frustration out after bottling it inside of himself for far too long. âAnd now he sent me after you because heâs sick and wants me to be the one to kill you after all. Like killing you will be my personal hell, and heâs right! I stalled because I canât kill you, I canât even imagine hurting you, Y/n. You have to understand,â
You guess heâs right, but while you certainly couldnât harm your boss for conspiring against both you and Jaehyun, a little communication might have worked. While you couldnât be with him, it would have been nice to know the reason why that was happening, instead of being given the cold shoulder.
âMaybe we couldnât run away together, or be together, or leave the circle until he said soâŠâ you whisper, because speaking up would make your voice break with emotion, âBut you could have let me know why you were treating me like I didnât matter, all of a sudden,â
You look at him while you take a few steps back, and youâre right assuming Jaehyun will not have it in himself to add anything more. And youâre right.
You leave him behind, standing by the pool, and you make your way inside the mansion, tears running freely down your cheeks as you try to contain your sobs.
You lay in bed as you listen to the quiet of the night. Everyone is in bed, most probably asleep, and everything outside is at peace. Only the sound of crickets singing can be heard, and the wind moans gently as it makes the trees dance to a lulling rhythm.Â
It lulls you to sleep, it insists on making you fall into a spiral towards darkness and a place of unconsciousness you crave for, especially after the horrible day you had.Â
If the constant grief you managed to keep at bay wasnât enough to bother you, thereâs the agony of a heartbreak that managed to resurface after so long. Jaehyun didnât look for you for the rest of the day, didnât come up to ask you to talk things out â but then again, did you really expect him to? Avoidant and non-confrontational Jaehyun? Yeah, like you didnât know better than to expect anything from him.Â
He might have confessed a few things to you today, but youâre sure he would have never opened up to you if it weren't for your constant nagging and trying to get words out of him.Â
You manage to calm down, to find peace, and when you think youâre on the verge of falling asleep, a thought resurfaces and a face pops up behind your closed eyelids, disturbing the quiet of the night and disrupting the regular rhythmic beating of your heart â Ningâs face makes an appearance, covered in blood, cheek sliced and eyes glossy, just like the last time you saw her.
You scream, jumping off the bed, and tears start spilling immediately. An ache in your chest and a knot the size of a fist down your throat makes it difficult for you to breathe, to even think straight. You drop on the floor, hand clawing at your t-shirt as you try to rip it away from yourself, to let the air flow better. You gasp for air, tears making it impossible for you to keep your eyes open right now â and the same image plays in your head again, and again, and doesnât seem to vanish.
You hear the thuds of heavy steps approaching you, and someone collapses next to you on the floor. One strong hand snatches the one you kept on your chest, and after getting it out of your way it grabs your chin, forcing your head to look up.
âBreathe,â you recognise Jaehyunâs voice. Heâs calm, his tone is steady, âItâs okay, Iâm here. Now breathe,â he rasps, squeezing the sides of your face as he keeps your head up.Â
When you fail to do as he instructs, still struggling to gasp for air, he keeps you in place, using his other hand to secure you as he grabs your nape, and he blows gently on your face.Â
âBreathe,â he instructs again as he starts blowing softly on your face, but eventually gives up as he sees your panic attack isnât subsiding and youâre struggling to let air in, adding to the panic.
He picks you up, and you claw at his t-shirt as he moves with you in his arms, at a rapid speed. You recognise the squealing of the shower, while Jaehyun keeps you in his arms as he walks into the shower, right under the cold pouring of the water from the shower head above the two of you, and it doesnât matter if itâs cold. It doesnât matter if itâs freezing. You keep yourself glued to his warm figure as you feel the freezing droplets of water on your skin, as if they burned through your flesh.
Jaehyunâs hands are sturdy and big, and they keep you in place against his chest, securing you as you try to come down from your panic attack, letting the water do its job.
You start breathing again after a while, gasping for air with big breaths, and Jaehyun sits you down on the ground, his arms never leaving you. The cold water is a blessing, regulating your endorphins and calming the panic that took over you, and your head falls in the crook of Jaehyunâs neck as you wait for all your symptoms to calm down. Thatâs when you realise heâs under the freezing water with you, holding you, and the scenes in your bedroom just a few minutes ago replay in your head. He doesnât seem to mind the cold, or at least you think so, because he doesnât move an inch to close the tap until he can be sure youâre doing good.
He senses your warm breath fanning against the skin of his neck, and he finally turns to look down at you, black eyes piercing through your bloodshot ones.Â
âHow are you feeling now?â He asks, trying to make sure your attack and symptoms have subsided. You nod, touching him for comfort, and he hums, âCan you breathe?â And when you nod, taking big breaths to show him youâre doing fine, you feel one of his hands moving away from you, âIâm going to turn the hot water on, so we can get warm,â
You nod, body still limp in his arms as he moves under the water and towards the tap, and then carefully moves your body to rest against the wall of the shower, the shower head now directed at your freezing bodies.
You feel the water getting warm, and you bring your legs to your chest, while you can physically feel Jaehyunâs gaze on your figure as you try to relax.
âWhat happened?â He asked, carefully looking at how the water hits your face.Â
âNing,â you choke out, barely able to contain your tears, âNing happened,â your head falls in your hands, and tears start brimming in your eyes again, but you feel safer, now that you know you arenât alone with your thoughts, âI keep seeing her face from that night,â Your breath hitches in your throat, and you make huge efforts to take big breaths as not to have another panic attack.
âDo you miss her?â Jaehyun feels like an idiot for asking, but heâs glad heâs here for you.
âSo much,â you whisper, finally letting your tears spill down your cheeks, yet they become one with the droplets of hot water streaming down your whole body.Â
Jaehyun doesnât say anything else, careful not to use the wrong words or do the wrong gestures. Despite the despair and sadness youâre feeling, youâre glad Jaehyun is here. He brings you comfort, and the feeling that youâre safe is back once again.
You look at him, at how his long strands of hair are sticking to the sides of his face, at how his big eyes are looking straight into yours, as if trying to assess the state of your inner turmoil.
âCan you tell me what happened that night?â He tries, gaze still not leaving yours. You can tell heâs genuine by the worried, yet curious glint in his eyes.
âHe never told you what happened?â You rasp, because itâs hard for you to believe the old man didnât let the squad know what had happened.
He shakes his head at you, gaze not leaving yours, âHe only told us that Copperhead died and that Cottonmouth is no longer part of the squad,â he sighs, and for a second he avoids your gaze. But you can literally see the gears turning inside his head, and he moves to look at you once again, âAnd then he called me into his office,â you know what he was called in for, and you appreciate the way he chose to communicate with you. He literally tried avoiding telling you, and then he made an effort to actually open up to you â and you feel like you want to coddle him for doing the bare minimum. Bare minimum, yet such a big step for the non confrontational and avoidant Jaehyun.Â
You nod, taking your time to recollect your thoughts without sending yourself straight into another panic attack.Â
âWe were in Bangkok for a mission,â you start, and your gaze gets lost as you look at how the droplets of water touch the drain of the shower, right before being sucked in, âWe needed to take three men out that night. Two were part of a gang and the other was a very powerful man who had ties with some organisations,â you recall, and you gulp as you realise youâre going to explain how a small rookie mistake brought to your best friendâs demise, âYizhuo needed to lure them in, bring them to one of their upper suites as I was in another building, positioned right across their suite, ready to shoot them. She had a gun, for good measure, you know the rulesâŠâ you trail off, throwing him a look only to see him nodding, âShe managed to get them inside the suite, the windows were clear, and then one of them started to cover them,â your breath catches in your throat, and you let a big huff of air escape you as you try to continue your story.
Jaehyun is patient, and one of his hands touches your ankle in an attempt to ground you.
âI could hear her in my in-ear, she was trying to distract them from covering the remaining windows. She was so calm, yet so persistent and we were so close to succeeding, but then one of them attacked her, groped her, and he felt her gun. We both knew it wasnât going to end well, and I told her to stay clear because I was gonna shoot them, but it was too late,â you choke, biting on your bottom lip, âThey shot her right before I could finish my sentence and give her the heads-up,â
Jaehyun looks at you and the way your features contract so painfully in order to try and keep all the sobs and pain away.
âI managed to take them down, one by one, but only after aborting the initial plan. While hearing Yizhuo struggling to breathe in my in-ear, I fled the scene and went straight to their suite, not only because I needed to make sure they were dead, but because I needed to keep her alive,â you look at him, to make sure heâs still following, and you see how his gaze hasnât moved away from the side of your face, âI know what the rules are. Abort the mission if thereâs a fault in your initial plan, but the rules were never designed for duos. I couldnât leave her there, Jaehyun,â you sob, turning around so your sitting figure can face his, and Jaehyun takes you into his arms.
âShe was still breathing after I killed the three, but succumbed in a matter of seconds after I walked into the room to take her away from there,â Jaehyun hums after hearing your words, and then gulps.
âYou couldnât save her,â he rasped, one hand keeping you close to him under the pouring warm water. You were aware of this, especially after Grandma Ning made you realise it as you dived deeper into the story, but you were hoping everyone was just wrong.Â
You felt immense guilt every time you thought of what went down that night, and how you had to leave her behind before catching the first plane home and reporting back to your boss. At least you completed your mission, but at what cost?
âI know it might seem like itâs your fault and that you could have done something to prevent this, but the only thing that could have prevented this from happening would have been Yizhuo not carrying a gun and them not feeling the dangers of it. But you canât just not bring a weapon for good measure, so you canât blame yourself for this. It happened and we canât change that right now,â his wise words sink deep into every fibre of your being, and you try to come to reason that maybe it is like Jaehyun just said â it had to happen and it had to go this way.Â
Had it not been for this, you wouldnât be in a shower with him right now, you wouldnât be here to see him trying to be more communicative with you, you wouldnât be here to feel that strange attraction to him once again.Â
Itâs weird â just a bit ago you were having a panic attack, and now Jaehyunâs presence and words managed to calm you down and take your mind off the horrible things that have happened to you, that kept haunting you.
âOf course you decided to quit, how could you not?â He comments, and you realise heâs speaking mostly to himself.
âCan I ask what Johnny's unfinished business is with his father? And how are the two of you so close?â You snap him out of his own thoughts, and he looks at you all taken aback.Â
âI guess weâve always been close,â he shrugs, âWe trained together, but he left me behind when he was ready to join the squad and I still had to train and fit into one category. And even after he left the squad we kept in touch, without his father knowing, of course. I was already in trouble for having a thing for you, so he might have sent someone to get me if he found out Johnny and I are as close as brothers,â
His words make your ears ring. He was âin trouble for having a thing for youâ, but you donât make a comment, too scared of bringing it up now and scaring him away. He seems to be in good spirits tonight, and you donât want to ruin that â and you donât even have the energy to do it right now, not after what happened tonight.
âAs for his unfinished business, I guess itâs all about how his father reacted when Johnny decided to leave the circle. You should be glad he let you walk out on your own two feet and let you get away to another country. Johnny didnât have the same luck as you,â You bet your eyes are the size of saucers as you look at him.Â
âBut isnât Johnny his son?â Your question is stupid, you know this, but it makes sense to want to make sure you have the right details.
He nods, âYeah, he is. But it didnât matter. The moment Johnny decided he wanted to leave, the old man kept him tied in his office while his gorilla bodyguards tortured him for a few days,â
âWhat?â You bark, your stomach dropping.
âMhmm,â he hums, one hand pressing forcefully into your flesh like a reflex, âI told you that motherfucker is sick. Iâm just glad he let Johnny go in the end,â
You nestle against his figure for a bit longer, until he starts massaging his calves, and you realise the position youâre in â and the fact that youâve been sitting for a while under both freezing and hot water, is finally bringing him discomfort and that he needs to move away soon.
You move your head to look up at him, only to see him already looking down at you. He probably thought you were asleep by now.
âLetâs get you dry and into bed, yeah?â He gets off the showerâs floor, and extends a hand for you to grab.
âCan you-â you tell him as he gets rid of his wet t-shirt and reaches for one of the towels in your bathroom, âCan you spend the night? I donât want to be alone,â you whisper, and you feel warmth creeping up your spine and going straight to your cheeks.
He shows you one dimple, but refrains from making stupid comments. He knows you need this, and God knows he needs this just as much. Maybe things will finally settle for the two of you.
And after changing into a set of dry clothes, Jaehyun gets into bed next to you. He listens to the cadence of your breathing, how youâre finally at peace after a full and difficult day, and he turns around to look at you, trying to take you in and make up for all the time lost while trying to avoid you.
The following weeks after the panic attack have been nothing but a sweet reconciliation with Jaehyun. Sure, you kept training and kept trying to keep up with Johnny and his incessant talking and trying to distract you every single second of every single day, but you got the old Jaehyun back.Â
It started slowly, with the loving gaze he couldnât hide at breakfast or during dinner while you explained to Johnny how Ning once taught you how to decapitate someone by using a ruler; or with his stalling around to be able to stay a bit longer with you even if he had something else to do with Johnny, in some other place around the estate.Â
Then the lingering touches started to make an appearance, and the moments were so bittersweet with all the nostalgia they brought back, for all the time lost that shouldnât have happened in the first place.Â
âYou guys are idiots,â Johnny comments when itâs just the two of you in the kitchen preparing dinner.
You turn around to look at him, meat knife in your hand.
âDonât look at me like that. Youâve been waltzing around each other for so long,â he ignores your staring, and he keeps chopping vegetables, âYou think I donât notice Jaehyun doesnât sleep in his room anymore?â
And you guess Johnny is right. There are hints of the fondness you feel for each other, for everyone with eyes to notice.Â
Ever since you opened up to Jaehyun, you stopped picturing Ning right before falling asleep. You guess itâs the wisdom he shared with you that one night, or maybe itâs the way he sticks to your body for the entirety of the night trying to bring you comfort, just like the old times.
But as the D-Day approaches, you start feeling anxiety weighing you down once again. Itâs not about the fear of going through with this â because Johnny spent every single day since you arrived, training with you to get you back in shape. Instead, itâs all about the anxiety of losing something you just recently found again â or someone. Jaehyun.Â
While you know you canât stay at Johnnyâs and hide forever, because that isnât something you can consider a life worth living, you also feel like if something happened to either one of you it would ruin your life.Â
What you regained when you reconciled and cleared the air with Jaehyun could be lost in a second, and youâre not ready to let it go.Â
And then it seemed like Jaehyun had the same thoughts as you, because he dropped to your room one night, and the look on his face was a clear sign of the gears in his head working overtime.Â
âI think you should stay home. Let me and Johnny and the others handle this,â he rasps, scared of your reaction.Â
Your head snaps to look back at him, standing at the foot of your bed, cozy pyjamas making him look extra warm. How could you even think of losing this sight, and losing this warm presence that has filled you with a newfound will to live? How could you ever think of going on with life if he was going to be taken away from you?
âThis shouldnât even cross your mind, Jaehyun. Iâll be there,â you fight back, going towards the foot of the bed to be closer to him.Â
âWe have people helping us, you donât have to be there,â he tries explaining, but youâre having none of it, shaking your head at him.
âI need to be there, to make sure I did my part,â you want to tell him that you need to make sure heâs getting out of there alive, but you refrain from doing so, âI am totally capable of doing this, remember?â
He sighs, âFuck, I know this!â He squeezes his eyes shut, bringing his hands up to his head, fingers combing through his fluffy hair, âI know this isnât the best time to tell you this, but I kinda love you. And I need you to be safe otherwise I canât even bring myself to imagine what it will be like if youâre in danger⊠or worse,â his word-vomiting takes you by surprise, and by the time you register his words, you can see he also realises the weight of them.
You seal your lips shut in a straight line, shrugging as you grab his hips, âWell then itâs a good thing I kinda love you too, and that I also need to make sure youâre safe,âÂ
âI have John to protect me,â he jokes, dimple on display as he tries not to smile at his own joke, and you poke it out of habit. An old habit that has recently resurfaced, that is.
âAnd I have you,â you whisper, lurching a bit so you can kiss the corner of his mouth, âI canât imagine letting you go in without me, Iâd feel so guilty if anything happened,â your kisses trail on his jaw, right up to his ear, and you kiss his pulse line.Â
Your hands travel up his torso, clawing at his t-shirt as you bring him down to lock lips with him.
 âI canât even think of a future without you in it, Y/n, we lost so much time already,â heâs serious, and his tone makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise, âJust the thought of never being able to feel you here with me makes me go insane, I canât afford for this to happen to us,â
His confession dawns on you, and you realise heâs finally found the courage to speak his mind up, heâs found the courage to change and be more communicative, for you. And he put everything into words, just as you would have done. He explained the turmoil going on inside of you, and once again youâre reminded of everything thatâs at stake.
You lock lips with him once again, and your hands trail up to reach for his face, grabbing him by both sides to keep him close. He moans into the kiss, his lips devouring yours in a kiss so desperate and raw that it makes you almost want to cry. You have it all right now, everything you ever wanted, and tomorrow it could be all gone.
âI need you,â he mumbles against your kiss, not being able to get away from you as he chases after your kiss, âWe need this,â
And you couldnât agree more.Â
Your body is suddenly burning up at the mere anticipation of having Jaehyun in all his glory.
He doesnât waste time, pushing you slowly in a slight attempt to make you understand that you need to lie down on your back, and he takes advantage of your submission as soon as your back touches the comfortable bed.
On top of you, his hand travels down your body, playing with the waistband of your pyjama shorts, cold fingers lingering on your lower abdomen as he waits before allowing himself to proceed. He breaks the kiss, letting your lips finally go, and his mouth travels down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he makes his way to your collarbones.Â
His nose nuzzles your breast, covered by the flimsy night tank top youâre wearing, and his free hand travels up your body to reach for a strap, carefully pulling it down. His fingers are cold, but they graze your burning skin and it feels like a blessing, the contrast of temperature giving you goosebumps as you start to lose your patience.
You move your pelvis against one of his legs, causing the friction you so desperately want right now, âI need you,â you moan at the delicious contact, and you hear him chuckle as his head dips down to your chest, teeth grazing the margins of your tank top, âStop teasing,â
Normally, Jaehyun would never take orders from anybody. But because heâs finally able to be with you after so many years of having to bottle up all of his feelings for you, he thinks youâll drive him insane.
Your smart mouth always drives him insane â when you nag, when you fight with him, when you threaten to kill him. And with a swift movement of your hips, you manage to lock your legs around his waist, making him rotate and fall onto his back, totally at your mercy.Â
Unlike him, you donât waste time. You push his t-shirt up his torso, gesturing for him to take it off, and his stupid dimple makes an appearance as he does as told. And then your nails graze the skin of his stomach just above the waistband of his boxer shorts, your index tracing up along his happy tail, all the way to his belly.
âStop teasing,â he imitates you with a huff, and youâre sure he would have imitated your voice, mocking you like he always does, if it weren't for the way youâre straddling him, your core directly placed on top of his bulge.
But you decide itâs not the time to play around, not with the way you pleaded him not to tease you just a bit earlier, and definitely not with the way you feel your insides burning with anticipation. You decide youâre better than him, and you take pity on him as you free him and his aroused cock from the tight material that was pressed onto it.
It falls heavy on his stomach, and the sight alone has your mouth watering. Itâs long, veiny, perfect girth from the base all the way up to his pink and glistening tip. You dip your head down, tongue travelling flat from the base all the way up, finally getting a taste of his leaky tip as you swirl your tongue around it, and Jaehyun moves his thighs to make space for you.Â
Heâs fidgety, almost whining at the way your lips lock around his tip, suckling on it as you feel your core dripping from ministering your actions on him. Your tongue travels down the sides of his shaft, returning up to take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him as you try to take his length.Â
You feel him buckling his hips up into your mouth out of reflex, and you take his hand to place it on your head. He doesnât need to be explained what to do, with him taking control of your mouth by sliding in and out of your warmth, underside of his cock rubbing deliciously on your flat tongue, and his tip touching the back of your throat as he keeps you in place.Â
Your hand travels to your own waistband, getting under it, your fingers quickly finding their way in between your thighs.
The squelch of your motions on yourself bring Jaehyun back to his senses, and he gets lost in his motions as he focuses on the sounds of your wet core so eagerly taking every ministration of your fingers.
You try your best to control your gag reflex, trying to breathe in through your nose, and the moment you manage to swallow around him itâs when you hear a guttural rasp escape past his lips. âGood girl, baby,â he praises you, keeping your head still for a bit longer before moving his hips a few more times, and finally letting your head go.
You suckle on his cock a few more times, finally letting it go with a pop! and it falls right back down on his stomach, but he doesnât waste time. He kisses you, tongue swirling around yours as you grant him access immediately, and youâre sure he can taste himself off your tongue but he doesnât seem to mind.
âOn your back, baby,â he instructs, getting on his knees in between your thighs as soon as you follow his commands. His fingers donât stall this time, desperately pulling at the fabric of your short before snatching them off you, and sinking his fingertips in the plush of your inner thighs before you can close them and get some friction you desperately need.
He keeps your thighs apart, eyes on your glistening core like a hawk, âYou were touching yourself, right baby?â He coos at you, almost mocking you. His index finger travels down your slit, and you moan at the contact of his cold skin against your burning core. You crave the friction only he can give you, yet he seems lost and in a trance while looking down at you.
âJaehyun, please,â you beg him, and it seems to snap him out of whatever reverie he was just in. You need him to touch you, do absolutely anything to you, before you lose your mind, âTouch me,â
âNo,â heâs quick with his answer, like you just gave him the perfect opportunity, and his gaze snaps to meet yours, âTouch yourself for me,â
He moves back a bit, still on his knees in between your thighs, and you see him grabbing himself, hand moving up and down his shaft as he looks at the way your fingers move.Â
His fist moves from the base, all the way up, squeezing slightly right before going back down. But his eyes are looking down at you, traveling around your body, taking you in with a gaze so hungry and lustful that it has your walls pulsing around nothing. He looks like heâs ready to devour you whole, and moans get past your lips albeit your trying to keep it down, for the sake of your dignity and being able to face anyone whoâs in the house right now, that doesnât need to know whatâs going on behind the closed doors of your room.
Your fingers make up for the lack of Jaehyun, for the lack of friction and for the lack of any type of ministrations. Your index turns around your clit right before sliding up and down your wet slit, finally reaching your entrance.
Your head falls back as you put one finger inside, biting on your bottom lip as your gaze travels to meet Jaehyunâs. His eyes are on you, eating up every single bit of every emotion travelling across your features. Heâs squeezing the base of his cock, ministrations on himself long forgotten, and he just watches as you please yourself.Â
âJaehyun, please,â you plead, snatching the strap of your tank top to free your chest, your free hand travelling up your abdomen to reach for your breast and squeeze it, all while your fingers work their magic in and out of you. But youâre sure your fingers are nothing compared to Jaehyunâs â or even better, compared to his cock, and all the spots it could reach inside of you.
You almost tear up at the thought, and Jaehyun finally has mercy on you, âPlease what?â
âI need you inside of me,â You donât know how long you can go on doing this. When you started this, it was urgent and needy, and you thought he felt the same. But like always, Jaehyun gets lost along the way, losing too much time stalling on things.
He gets on top of you, properly this time, and lines himself at your entrance, tip of his cock teasing you. His mouth moves on top of yours, locking your lips in a desperate kiss, almost as if you canât get enough of each other, and you feel the typical and exquisite pressure of his tip entering you.
You sigh into the kiss, head falling back at the feeling of fullness making your insides almost melt. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, and he tries his best not to move inside of you, feeling you trying to ease up on him.Â
Youâre so incredibly beautiful, Jaehyun tries his best not to finish in three motions of hips. The way youâre wrapped around him, the way you moan his name, the way you bring him closer with your legs wrapped around his waist â it all has him sucking his stomach in, and he finally starts moving in and out of you.Â
He doesnât even care about your moans or his grunts, the way your lips are so plump from his kisses and all the biting you did in order to keep down is literally driving him insane. And he knows youâve been waiting for this moment almost as much as he has, when he sees your glossy eyes.
The pleasure becomes almost too much to handle, pressure building in your lower stomach and between your thighs, and by the way Jaehyun is losing his rhythm you can tell heâs just as desperate as you are.
His teeth graze your jaw, one of his hands travelling all the way up to the side of your face, where his thumb caresses your cheek, and his plump lips touch yours to eat up every single sound youâre letting out.
Heâs hitting all the right spots, heâs touching all the right places, heâs kissing your most sensitive spots, and thatâs the thing that does it for you.Â
The way he remembers these things about you has the pressure in your lower stomach finally snapping, and your trembling thighs wrap around him as you feel his hips halting their movements.
He reaches for your lips once again, pecking you in between longer kisses that yearn for more, even now. He retracts just a bit in order to get a good glimpse of you, and his gaze pierces through yours, looking for something that you might have deeply hidden inside of you.
âWeâll be alright, you know this, right?â He makes sure youâre reminded of this, because heâll make sure to die before he can see anything bad happening to you.
You nod, giving him a tired, spent smile, âI know,â your whisper fills the silence between you two, and he falls into your embrace, your warmth too cozy to let you go just yet.
Nothing seems scary or impossible when you look into Jaehyunâs eyes. Theyâre tired, yet they sparkle while looking right back at you, and your own gaze travels across his features.
Heâs relaxed, seemingly at peace. The playful glint in his eyes gives away the way heâs feeling, and the slow blinking he does while looking at you makes a sudden wave of endearment wash over you.Â
You really canât think of life without him, not now that he has returned to you and he gave you a taste of what it would be like to be by his side for as long as time allows you. And maybe you donât have to think about a life that lacks his presence, because you choose to believe his words â youâll be alright, and one more look at his soft yet determined gaze makes you realise heâs going to do anything in his power to make this happen.
VII. EPILOGUE
You never thought that leaving the criminal life behind would ever be possible, yet you were proven wrong.Â
You were proven wrong the moment you were allowed to walk out of your former bossâs office, by yourself. You were proven wrong when you managed to fly away, although you knew someone was after you. You were once again proven wrong, when the one sent to kill you refused to do so â and then you managed to team up, and escape death like that was the easiest thing to do in this whole world.
And you are still proven wrong every time you look at yourself in the mirror, not being able to believe youâre still actually here, safe and sound. Because while you know who you owe this to, it sometimes becomes too much to grasp, too difficult for you to believe that you managed to go through so many things and still be able to go on with your life.
You owe everything you own today, and your life being restored, to Johnny. Mamushi, like you still like to call him whenever heâs kind enough to pay you a visit, or every time âheâs in townâ, although this excuse has been used before by someone else. So outdated, and a joke of an excuse, yet you still accept it and welcome him in the comfort of your home.
Now itâs easy to relax on the patio of your house, condo long forgotten, traded for the privileges of a more spacious mansion, that you have the pleasure of sharing with Jaehyun â your now husband.
Life is a sick little thing, and every time he comes home from a mission, youâre reminded of what was once at stake.Â
Getting rid of your old boss didnât mean cutting all ties with your old life. Getting rid of him meant Johnny taking his place, yet the conditions that tied someone to the circle changed.
Johnny took over the squad, and while he pleaded for you to come back, your refusing his offer was final.
Jaehyun retired, he now likes staying home with you, cooking and gardening, going surfing in the morning and then getting home to lose track of time with you. But he canât keep away, even if he wants to â not when his commission is the highest out of all the members in the squad. And he certainly canât keep away when Johnny drops by in person, to beg for him to take a mission.
Although youâre not the happiest with this, you know Jaehyun changed his ways. He isnât looking for trouble now that heâs a settled man, and he genuinely loves his life and the lack of peril in it. But just four missions a year pay enough to be able to afford the house and the lavish lifestyle you got accustomed to, and he promises his missions are the easiest, because he had his fair share of glorious days and the younger members of the squad need to handle the most difficult ones, anyway.
You, on the other hand, decided to leave for good. No going back, no more missions, no more endangering yourself for money. You support Jaehyun and his occasional missions because you can tell he likes going back to his old life from time to time, but also because thatâs all these missions are â occasional. Your last mission happened the night you managed to successfully annihilate your former boss, and you swore you had enough of that life.
At first, the boys wanted to find the perfect opportunity and attack the training camp in the mountains, but it would have been just so difficult to do so. There was surveillance, there were motion sensors everywhere â the old man and all the guards would have been alerted that someone was out there coming for them.
There seemed to be a few other options, but none were safe options. Until Johnny realised that the ambush had to happen at his fatherâs house, because there wasnât any other place on this earth that was easier to attack â or so Johnny said.Â
Sure, you and Jaehyun knew most places like the back of your hand. You knew which vents in the ceiling of the hotel were safe, designed specifically for this type of thing. You knew about the secret tunnels underneath the training camp, and how one â and which one it was â led to a secret bunker located in one of the mountains, and you knew how to access it.
But you didnât know about Johnnyâs childhood house, and how to navigate it. You didnât know about the security system, and all the cameras or sensors around the house. But with Jaehyunâs support and because you were trusting him blindly, Johnny reassured you that he knew what he was doing.Â
You only needed to jam the air and make all sensors and cameras lose signal, you had to get rid of the power generator in the basement, and to take out the few bodyguards around the property.
The old man could fight, Johnny made sure to inform you that you should never trust his fatherâs occasional limping, because the man was a kill machine â and the only thing preventing him from actually fighting and getting his hands dirty was laziness, and maybe also the fact that he was used to having someone else whose hands could get dirty, instead of his own.
Johnny made sure you were prepared for attack. He did his best to remember all the security measures his father had around the house, and prepared you for the probable fact that all those measures had doubled over time. But because the apple doesnât fall too far from the tree, he predicted all the places sensors and cameras could be placed in, and his guesses were right.
One thing Johnny was proud to have inherited from his father was his mind. Johnny had always been able to predict security codes in order to hack his fatherâs bank accounts, or security codes for doors so he could sneak out in the middle of the night and meet his girlfriends.
And with all the night security taken care of, Johnny was sure the plan was going to be successfully completed.Â
You remember how nervous you were, your insides churning with anxiety at the thought that you played an important role in Johnnyâs plan, and that you failing meant getting you all killed.
You remember how you watched through the scope on your rifle all the spots indicated on the map Johnny made you memorise. You were supposed to take out all the cameras surrounding the estate, at least the ones you were able to hit from the side you were located on. It all started with you.
It all started with you, and it ended with you.Â
Because after you managed to get in and get rid of all the bodyguards that were roaming around the mansion, the old man crept up on you, capturing you, and fighting you. Even now, youâre still so thankful for Johnnyâs piece of advice about his fatherâs fake limping, because you were going to become dust in the wind if you relied only on your perception of him.Â
And youâre also thankful for your husband, because the moment he heard you stomping your feet to a morse code asking for help, his elite assassin hearing brought him to you in just a few seconds, managing to take the old man off your figure and finally putting an end to the ordeal you had been subjected to.Â
Back then, you couldnât bring yourself to imagine what your life would have been like if Jaehyun wasnât here by your side, after you rekindled. But today, you know for a fact you canât live without him. Not when youâre so good for each other, sticking together like perfect puzzle pieces, so dependable on each other. Not when you got a glimpse of what life with him is like, you know you will never be able to be without him.
Youâre snatched from your own thoughts when you hear the front door opening, and Jaehyun walks in like he just won the lottery. You guess thatâs what a morning swim and surfing around for an hour does to a man with an old soul, who finds pleasure relishing in the beauty of life. His hair is still wet, and he walks around the couch to reach you.
âIs she up yet?â He mumbles softly, trying to contain his excitement.
You shake your head, âNot yet,â you reply back just as softly, looking at how he kneels on the carpet to touch your belly.
âYou said she kicks all the time during mornings, except she never does it when Iâm here,â He comments, eyebrows furrowing as he moves his hand on your growing baby bump.
âMaybe she just doesnât like you,â You retort, almost shrugging, trying your best not to burst out laughing after seeing the misery on his features.
He sulks on the spot, but he doesnât have the time to react, because your daughter kicks the spot his hand is placed on â like a sign that what you said isnât true.
Jaehyunâs features relax, and his eyes sparkle when he feels another kick, as if sheâs reassuring him by kicking a second time.Â
And while youâre grateful for leaving the past behind, youâre even more grateful to see what the future has on hold for you, your husband, and your daughter.Â
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this piece has been sitting in my docs since july, but this is what happens when a girl misses jaehyun just too much, it's almost unbearable at this point </3 it's finally here and im proud i managed to finish this, my longest fic so far <3 thank you to everyone who showed me patience and love, especially while i was away, and i really hope you enjoyed reading this just as much as i enjoyed writing it! im forever grateful for each and every single on of you babies <3 special thanks to my beautiful @taeeflwrr for making one of the dividers used for this fic, but also for proofreading this beast! i'll see you for the next one! à»ê°àŸàœČ˶ËáșË˶ ê±àŸàœČá
summary: Youâve never been the most lucky person, and when your AC breaks on you in the peak of a southern summer, you think you just might have seen it all. But when your temptation in a bottle of a neighbor offers to help fix it for you, the sweat on his skin makes you reconsider your hatred for the heat.
warnings: neighbors to lovers, older!san, comedy, fluff, biceps, tan skin sannie(drools), sweat, tension, suggestive popsicle eating(lmao), flirting, pet names, (beautiful, sweetheart, babydoll, etc.) oral(m! & f! receiving), against the wall, sloppy makeouts, kinda feral, desperation, choking, eye contact, fingering, creampie
wc: 7.9k
notes: is it december? yes. is this a summer fic? also yes. hop off, i live in the south itâs still hot down here
tracklist: r.e.m., hands to myself, talk
It started with your ring camera.
When a very feline man showed up on a clip while you were checking your footage one day.
Your cat had gone missing a few days prior, and you had never been more broken up about something in your life. You spent days searching far and wide around the neighborhood, but to no avail.
As much as you were perturbed about the disappearance of your cat, you still had to drag yourself to work every morning.
But when you came home that day, a notification sitting untouched on your phone about your ring catching a recording, it all flipped around.
âHey, I found this little lady wandering around my apartment somehow? I think she got in through an open window, but I remember her being yours. Sheâll be with me for now, but come over when you have the chance to scoop her up? She keeps trying to start hissy fits with my cat.â
A warm, charming smile and pretty little dimples. Freckled caramel skin and a strong jaw.
Tousled black hair and sweet eyes that crinkled at the corners, his large arms holding your cat up to the birds-eye camera, giving her a silly look. She meows, seeming content in the strange manâs arms, and he walks away to his own apartment, cooing softly at her as he cradles her in his arms.
Thatâs how you met San.
He had found your cat and ever so graciously stopped by your door in hopes of dropping her off while you werenât home. As soon as you saw the recording, you ran out of your home and down the hall to Sanâs door, knocking gently, trying to mask your excitement.
When he opened the door to your face beaming with happiness, he knew right then and there, he had to find some way to make sure he kept seeing you.
Heâs asked to cat sit a few times. Youâve asked him to water your plants while you were out of town. Heâs offered to fix your fridge when it started to leak. You offered to collect his mail when he was on a trip.
You scratched his back, and he scratched yours. A sweet and simple relationship that sometimes has blurred lines.
Like when he looked at you like you were beauty embodied, but you brushed it off. Or when you literally felt your heart stop when he held your cat in his arms, littering her little face in kisses, but the heart was a weird thing. He was a little older than you, and sometimes his age showed in the conversations he would hold with you.
But San was always pleasant to talk to, inviting you over for coffee, letting you rant about work, and listening to his stories about his travels around the world with his buddies. All this time living next door to him, and you had never spoken a word to each other until now.
It was a soft, platonic, crutch of a relationship. A person you could talk to after a long day and just be real with. San made you feel real.
Well, things would change very quickly.
And it was all because of a near heatstroke, the electrifying power of the sun, and a broken AC.
It was the dead of summer, one hundred degrees outside, and asphalt you could fry an egg on. And your AC gave out on you, the shitbox.
You had done everything you could to try and remedy it, but no matter what you tried, it was useless. Every YouTube video provided no help, the toolbox under your sink looked like an airplane cockpit to you, and you were so overheated it was getting hard to form thoughts.
Stripped down to just a thin sweat-soaked tank top and volleyball shorts, you rested your forehead against the edge of your balcony, the door wide open as you tried to catch any breeze that the gods felt generous enough to grace you with.
You tried standing in front of your open fridge, but you knew that would raise your bill, so your last resort was begging for wind on your balcony. You closed your eyes and sighed when a moment of fresh air washed over your wet skin, but it was gone just as quickly as it arrived.
âYou look like youâre having fun.â
You nearly let out a moan of relief, the familiar voice flooding your ears like God himself was sent to help you.
âSanâŠâ you whined weakly, not lifting your head from your balcony. âI need you to rescue me.â
His sweet little laugh hits your ears, and you turn your head to see him standing on his own balcony, smiling at you fondly. âYou know Iâm just a door away; you could have just knocked and asked.â
You pouted and winced guiltily. âBut Iâve been bothering you so much lately and-â
San interrupts you with a raise of his eyebrow and a snort. âYouâre never bothering me, sweetheart. Iâm always more than willing to help you out, you know that, donât you?â
An angel, really.
âSan, youâre the best.â You hang your head, and droplets of sweat fall onto the hot wood of your balcony. San is already walking back inside his apartment with a knowing smile.
âLet me grab my things.â
-
âHow are you alive?â
The moment San stepped into your home, he immediately began to sweat. Your apartment really was that hot. Carrying his toolbox and a determination to bring coolness back to your abode, he nearly soaked his grey tank top upon stepping through your door.
You laugh dryly. âI guess Iâm really resilient.â
San runs his free hand through his hair, inhaling deeply as he takes in the situation. âHow long has it been like this?â he murmurs, still seemingly in shock over the temperature of your home.
âA few hours, maybe.â You bite your tongue and avoid looking at him, arms crossed as you take a sudden interest in the ceiling.
San scoffs, âIt should have taken you 5 minutes to decide to come ask for my help (Name).â You could feel his eyes on you, and it was burning more than the sun.
âWell, excuse me-â before you could finish your sentence, he whistled loudly.
âHey, over here.â He snaps, and you whip your head in his direction. Your eyes lock, and you watch as they fall from concentration to a strange softness.Â
âThere you are.â His voice lowers to something so gentle it makes your stomach flip. âHi, neighbor. So you want this fixed or not?â San lifts his bag and raises his eyebrow in question. Your arms remain crossed, and you nod silently, words seeming to have left you.
âAlright then, câmon. I want you to watch so you know better next time youâre too embarrassed to ask for my help.â
Your nervousness leaves you as he walks away from you, and you follow with a pep in your step and an annoyance in your tone. âI was not embarrassed, I just didnât want to drag you out of your comfy air-conditioned home to come sweat off ten pounds trying to fix mine.â
San laughs as he makes a beeline to the closet in your hallway where your air conditioner is located, the metal in his bag clinking with each step. "Sounds like youâre jealous, actually.â
San gets to quick work to diagnose the problem, his head disappearing in the closet as he begins to poke and prod around the broken contraption, murmuring things to himself as he works. Some clanking around and a few screws loose, and he pokes his head from out of the closet.
He looks down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful at the chance of finally being able to feel air conditioning again. He smiles sheepishly, and you already knew bad news was coming.
âBad news, the entire thing is frozen over.â You let out a defeated groan, and San rests his hands on your bare upper arms.
âDonât pitch a fit, itâs an easy fix, but you may not like it.â Sanâs voice is gentle, his hands softly squeezing your arms. You try to ignore the way his skin sticks to yours from the sweat. Pervert.
âWhat?â You ask dejectedly. San lowers his voice to a whisper.
âYou have to turn the heat on.â
You blink a few times, and you feel your entire body go into fight or flight.
âIâd rather you shoot me.â You deadpan, and San squeezes your shoulders one last time before slipping away.
âIâd rather not, babydoll, you give me work to do with my hands. Iâd be bored without you.â His grin is genuine, his dimples on proud display, the tendons in his neck flexing, the sweat dripping off his brow. His eyes flick over your face and along your jawline. He licks a drop of sweat off his bottom lip.
And he wants to turn the heat on?
âIs that your way of saying I cause enough trouble to keep you busy?â You gnaw on your bottom lip as San reached behind him and turned the thermostat onto the heat, full blast.Â
âYou could say that.â He smiles and shuts the closet to the AC, and you could immediately feel the heated air start to flow from the vents around the house.
âIâm gonna die in here.â You whine, wiping the side of your neck with a disgusted face.
San sets down his toolbox, which it seems he brought for almost nothing. âDonât worry, Iâll stay, and we can die together.â
You canât help but crack a smile as you walk away and fall onto your carpeted floor with a tired thud. âYou know you donât have to, San.â
He only nods and lies down right next to you, spreading his limbs like a starfish and turning his head to face you. âI know.â
-
The rickety rotating fan San brought over from his apartment did little for your sweltering skin. You sat on your knees directly in front of it, sighing each time the rotation made it to your face, and groaning when it started to spin away.
San was sprawled across your couch, lips wrapped around a blue popsicle you had offered him from your freezer. His arm draped over the back as he watched you on your knees in front of the fan, the sweat trickling down your shoulder blades and leaving streaks on your tank top.
Sanâs eyes were lidded as his tongue traces absentminded patterns along the icy treat, his gaze fully trained on you. You were too focused on catching the flow of the fan to notice how intensely San was staring at you. His eyes followed the slope of your neck and the divots on your lower back where your tank top rode up over your hips.Â
The way your hair sticks to your slick skin and how your shoulders rose and fell with each breath you took. The way your whole body would relax when the air finally reached you, and how it would tense right back on when it moved away.
The AC was not the only thing that was making San feel hot all over; he couldn't take his eyes off you. Dribbles of sugary blue melted down his wrist, and just when he lowered his mouth to clean up the mess, you turned to ask him a question.
His eyes lock with yours as you turn, but his mouth doesn't cease its movement. His pretty pink tongue slips out and licks up the trail that dripped down his tan wrist.
He mumbles out a low âhm?â as his tongue lies flat against his skin and drags it up his wrist. Your words fail you once again as your eyes fall to his mouth against his skin, and yet San canât find it in him to rip his gaze away from your pretty, desperate eyes.
âDo- is it good?â You stumble over your question, completely forgetting what you were originally going to ask him. San smiles and licks up the side of the popsicle until he stops and bites the end off of it with a silent snap.
âVery, thank you, sweetheart.â He chews on the blue ice, and you swallow.
âIt's the best I can do since you wonât let me pay you.â You swirl your body around so you can fully face him, and grin as he bites off another small piece.
âYour company is payment enough.â He tells you that every time, because every time it goes the same way.
Something breaks, and San comes to your rescue. While he fixes it, you chat idly, and after heâs done, the conversation just seems to flow on even longer. He considers that his payment, always insisting that your time was his currency.
Youâve tried to shove at least a 20 down his throat, but heâll never take it. You opened your mouth to argue some more, but as you did, your cat walked around the corner of the couch with a soft meow.
âOh, and where have you been?â You call to her as he rubs herself on Sanâs man spread legs with a happy meow. San sticks his ice cream into his mouth and reaches down to scoop her into his arms.
âHello, little lady.â He coos at her, rubbing his nose against hers and scratching her neck as he cradles her. She purrs contentedly, and you watch in near awe.
âYour mom's grumpy about her AC.â He whispers to her, and you roll your eyes. Almost as if she could understand, she meows quietly.Â
âI hope youâre not conspiring with my cat.â You narrow your eyes playfully, and San gently sets her down back on the ground. She meanders her way over to you, placing her front paws on your knee as you reach down and pet her gently.
âI would never.â His popsicle is dripping again; itâs gotten down his chin this time, along his strong jaw, and dropped onto his tank top.
You inhale sharply. âYouâre making a mess on my couch.â Your cat bounds away quietly, off to whatever little secret spot sheâs been hiding in this entire time.
San looks down at the blue spot on his shirt and laughs softly. âOops.â He lifts his thumb to his chin and wipes the river of blue on his chin. But as he moves to dip his thumb into his mouth, you move quicker.
You stand from your spot and snatch his wrist, and slip it into your mouth without hesitation. You clean the sticky sugary mess off his thumb, swirling your tongue around it slowly, keeping your eyes on him. Sanâs eyes are wide, surprised, and intrigued.
Youâre not sure what on earth possessed you to do that, so you move back away from him. But San doesnât let that happen.
His fingers curl around and grip your jaw, keeping your head in place, his thumb pressed down against your tongue, and he guides your head closer to him. You were trapped in his strong hold, and you felt your head begin to swim.
His fingers press into the flesh of your cheek, pursing your lips around his thumb, and the heat in your blood increases substantially when he keeps your head still so you canât direct your embarrassed gaze away from him.
âWas that worth it?â He teases with a small grin, the hand with the popsicle lifting to slip the pop back into his mouth, running it up and down his tongue, which had turned blue by now. All the while, the thumb in your mouth mimicked his movement, stroking your tongue slowly.
You totally donât notice the way his legs slightly spread further open, how he readjusts the angle of his hips. He totally doesnât notice the way your thighs clench together and how your teeth scrape against his nail. You also donât notice the way he looks at you like he wants to eat you, and he for sure doesnât notice how you look at him like thatâs all youâve ever wanted in the world.
He slips his thumb out of your mouth so slowly it seems like time itself has been paused, a very thin trail of saliva connected between his nail and your parted lips, snaps like a silent cue.Â
Your eyelids flutter, and Sanâs tongue darts out and licks a stripe up the pad of his thumb, before popping the ice cream back in his mouth.
He stands, leaving you dumbfounded on the floor below him. âLetâs go check and see how much that AC has thawed; this heat is getting unbearable.â
-
âIâd give it at least another hour before we can run the cool again.â San peers into the closet, and you feel a sigh of relief rack your body, wiping your chest to clear it of the sweat that had gathered there.
San turns to see you looking at him with eyes glimmering with adoration and hope, and he doesnât catch the way your heart leaps when your eyes follow the droplet of sweat that clings to his chin.
âI really canât thank you enough.â You sigh, trying to gather your bearings.Â
âI promise you, as easy a fix this was, I mean you could have done it yourself-â Sanâs lips spread into a sly grin, and youâre already rolling your eyes.
âYou literally insisted on helping me.â You turn around to walk away, but his arm reaches out to grab your wrist as he drags you back to his chest.
âI know- hey, Iâm talking to you, donât walk away from me, câmereâŠâ he stops you from leaving, and you're standing in front of him again, much closer this time. He looks down at you, and your words die in your throat; his hand on your wrist doesnât leave, it only squeezes tighter.Â
âHi there.â San murmurs. âListen to me.â You swallow quietly and nod slowly.
âI love helping you out. Love working for you, babydoll.â His thumb rubs gentle circles over the pulse in your wrist, and his soft voice sends shockwaves to your belly.
âItâs a privilege if anything, I want you to always come ask for my help. But I am expecting a thank you.â He raises an expectant eyebrow, and you force your voice to come out, albeit small.
âThank you, Sannie.â You speak lowly, and you feel his hands squeeze your wrist only slightly. He inhales slowly and lowers his lips just shy of your earlobe.
âYou're welcome, beautiful, anytime.â You stifle a whimper when you feel the way his warm breath travels over your ear, and suddenly, you want to rip your skin off because you feel like youâre burning from the inside out.
You needed to divert.
âYou should change your shirt, you look a mess.â You clear your throat, but San wasnât done having fun with you.
âWhat, you donât like me all messy?â He smiles and drags his fingertips every so gently across your exposed collarbone, and your skin shivers beneath his touch.Â
âYouâre even messier than I am now, sweetheart. Youâre soaked.â
You know heâs talking about your tank top, which was, in fact, soaked with sweat. But you both knew he knew itâs a lot more than just that.
You bite your inner cheek nervously, and your limbs twitch. Sanâs fingers trail over your collarbone, along your shoulder, down your inner arm until heâs intertwining his fingers with yours.
His other hand cups around the back of your neck, gently massaging the nape, and a small, satisfied moan slips from your lips. Your eyes fall shut, and San keeps his gaze on you, enamored with every expression you make.
âSan.â You whisper, your eyes still closed.
âYeah?â He purrs, continuing to massage the tight knot on your neck with purpose. He subtly pulls you closer by the grip on your neck, and you can feel his nose ever so gently brush yours. His breath fans over your lips, and you can smell his scent. The sweat, the warm, woodsy notes of his fading cologne.Â
âItâs hot.â Your eyes flutter open, and your knees nearly give out on you when you see just how close he is to you. You can point out every freckle on his face, every discoloration of skin, and every pore. And his eyes are so intense that it makes your stomach fall.
Lidded eyes and low lashes, his lips just barely quirked up into the slightest of smiles. âI know, baby, I know.â
âHow much longer until we can turn the AC back on?â You're inching closer to him as you speak, and your breaths come shallowly.
San's lips move away from yours, and heâs pressing them in featherlight kisses against your neck. âYouâre shivering like youâre cold, sweetheart.â A kiss below your ear, and one in the crook of your neck.
âM not cold.â You murmur, and you do in fact shiver each time his soft lips make contact with your skin.Â
âYou hot, baby?â He coos against your ear, and your arms grab the thick straps of his tank top and pull him away from your ear, back to face you. You nod.
âSan.â You whine, your eyebrows knit together in desperation. âPlease.â
âIâm gonna make it worse, beautiful.â He pouts playfully, poorly masking the want laced in his words. âYou want me to make it worse?â
You canât help your honesty. âI want you to do whatever you want.â You pull him closer, and your lips are just thin skin brushing thin skin, your breaths mingling, and your noses bumping.
âOh, you shouldnât say that to me.â He groans against your lip, his eyes locked on your hazy eyes. âI donât want to do very gentlemanly things.â The hand he had interlaced with yours slips away, and you feel it trail up your inner thigh, and heâs pressing against the thin fabric of your volleyball shorts.
You whimper against his skin, and Sanâs lip parts in mock surprise. âKnew you were soaked.â He sighs, and he finally gives you what you want.
A slow, tasting kiss, savoring every flip of your tongue and soft whine. Your mouth is warm and sweet against his, the faint taste of your lip gloss and your sweat dancing on his taste buds. His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, wasting no time.
You were so unbelievably slick, it was mind-baffling. Sanâs fingers immediately become soaked in your arousal, his eyes closed, and eyebrows knit in concentration as his fingertips slip all over your cunt.
When he pressed up against your clit you accidentally bit his tongue in surprise, and you ripped your mouth away from the kiss and pressed your forehead against his broad chest. Your breath comes heavy, and your hands slip away from his tank top straps and ball into fists against his pecs, your legs already beginning to shake.
San moves around so your back is pressed against the hallway wall, forcing the back of your head against the wall. âUh uh.â He bites out, rubbing slow circles against your clit, your thighs squeeze around his wrist as the pleasure flows through your blood.
âAt me.â His hand on your neck forced your head to crane upwards, and you locked eyes with him again and simply melted. His eyes are heavy and hot, looming over you as he plays with your cunt. âHere, baby, right here.â
You let a pathetic moan slip from your mouth when he trails his fingers down and slides one inside of you, thick and full against your warm walls. Your knees buckle, but San keeps you up by your neck.
âDonât look away from me, babydoll.â His presence overwhelmed you, his body molded to yours, and his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, curling and pressing spots so deep it made you lightheaded.
Your eyes watered, and San bit his bottom lip, a smirk spreading across his face. âSo fucking pretty, yes, you are, baby.â He curls his fingers deeper, and your mouth falls open. San takes the opportunity to kiss you nasty and deep, sliding his tongue over yours and groaning down your throat. âYes, you are...â he purrs into your mouth, and your whole body feels like itâs on fire.
You were both overheated, but the broken AC had no contribution. You wanted your clothes off, you wanted to feel his skin on yours. You wanted San-
âYou want me to fuck you, baby?â He growls into your mouth, slipping his fingers out of you to tease your clit, before theyâre right back inside of you, stirring up your guts with deep, pressurized drags.
You nod breathlessly, giving him the sweetest little puppy dog eyes you didnât even know you were making. San just had that effect on you; he awakened your instinct to beg.
His hand slides up and buries its fingers into your hair, gently pushing you away from his lips. His fingers slip out of your cunt, and you whine in protest, but then heâs pushing you to your knees.
You watch as he gradually grows taller the further you sink to your knees, and your hands grip his massive thighs through his jeans until youâre eye level with his bulge.
He cocks his head to the side, looking down at you like you were the sweetest thing. His fingers massage your scalp in slow circles, his other fingers sinking into his mouth as he slowly licks your slick off of them, all while never diverting his heated gaze from you.
Once clean, he wipes his saliva across his shiny chrome belt buckle, leaving a wet streak across the metal. Then heâs slowly unbuckling it, teasingly slow.
âIâll consider this my thank you.â He says as he lets his belt fall open. You reach your hands up and unbutton his jeans, sliding down the zipper and letting your hands slip into his boxers.
You can feel him twitch as soon as your palm finds him, and as you pull him out, Sanâs breath hitches. Thick, heavy, and hot in your hand, you hold Sanâs cock, and youâre barely able to wrap your fingers around the length of him.
Pretty and pink, San runs his tongue over his lower lip when he catches the way your throat bobs as you take in the size of him. You raise your eyes to look at him as you stroke him languidly, and he's groaning under his breath.
His thumb hooks on his belt loop, his hand in your hair slipping from your hair and gripping himself at the base. âTongue, baby.â
You obey, letting your tongue fall from your mouth. San lifts his cock and oh so gently slaps his pink tip against your tongue, drops of pre falling into your mouth. San canât help the low giggle that rumbles from his chest at how willing you were for him.
âRelax for me, okay?â he whispers, and you grab either of his hips to hold yourself steady. âYou gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth?â
âYes, Sannie,â you whimper, and he slaps himself against your tongue a few more times before both of his hands wound through your hair.Â
âAlright, sweet girl, breathe through your nose.â You relax your jaw and keep your eyes on his as he slides his cock past your lips, along your tongue, and into your mouth. You feel the thick vein against your tongue and the way he twitches when you hollow out your cheeks for him.
His grip in your hair tightens the further he glides into your mouth, and he comes to a stop just before his tip hits the back of your throat. Your eyes watered, and tears gathered on your lower lashes, and San was doing everything in his power to be a gentleman and not fuck your mouth to tears, but you were making it so hard.
Your tongue twitches against the underside of his length as he slowly slides out of your mouth, then thrusts back in in a muted, gentle rhythm.
He gnaws on his bottom lip, his flushed, sweaty skin giving him a glow that makes your thighs clench below you. His eyebrows are knit together, and his lips part in a quiet moan when he slips further down your throat. âOh babyâŠâ he sighs, rewarding you with a soft moan that makes your stomach do flips.
He pushes himself deeper into your mouth, and your nails dig into his thighs, but youâre taking it so well.
âYeah⊠atta girl. So fucking precious,â he praised around hitched breaths and whiny groans. Drool slips down the corner of your mouth the further he pushes himself further down your throat. His scent, his taste, everything about him was overwhelming you to the point of painful arousal, and all you wanted to do was feel him everywhere.
You moan around his cock, and Sanâs grip on your scalp tightens, the vibrations of your sweet voice making it impossible to keep it together. âMake too much noise, and Iâll cum down your throat, sweetheart. Let's have manners, please.â He moans lowly as he pulls himself out of your mouth, your lips suctioning around his tip with a wet, dirty kiss.
You let your tongue fall out and drag it along the underside of him, and he shivers in bliss when you drag it up and gently tease his head.
San canât take it any longer, and heâs lifting you by your hair and practically throwing you against the wall. Heâs on his knees next, spreading your thighs and hiking one over his shoulder. He doesnât even bother to take off your shorts or your panties, as heâs simply pulling the flimsy fabric to the side and cupping your dripping cunt with his mouth.
Warm and wet, his tongue dives between your folds, licking up, down, left, and right. Your hands bury themselves in his hair. His large, rough hands hold your thighs open for him as he bullies your pussy with his mouth, open kisses, and greedy licks. His lips wrap around your clit as he buries his face as deep as he can between your thighs like he canât get enough. Heâs groaning and cooing into your cunt, getting off on how wet heâs managed to make you just by being here.Â
His tongue swirls around your clit, and you gasp aloud, your head falling back against the wall in desperation.You could see the blue that the popsicle he had earlier stained on his tongue.
Muffled and heavy, Sanâs voice travels through your cunt when he speaks. âBabydoll, look at me.â You force your head to crane back down and look at him.
His mouth between your thighs and his eyes stare up at you with a burning intensity that you can feel in your stomach.
âThere she is, hi baby.â Keeping his eyes on yours, he teases your clit with suckling kisses, his fingers gently dragging through your slick folds as he watches your face fall in pleasure.
The sweat on his brow and your arousal on his lips, you feel like falling apart. âKeep looking at me while I eat this pussy. Please?â he whines as he begs, but the sly smile on his face is all telling as his fingers slip inside of you and curl up, his tongue laving flat over your puffy clit.
The hand on your thighs rubs gentle circles against the soft skin, all the while his tongue draws patterns on your clit, and his fingers work you inside out like he knows your body like the back of his hand.
âF-fuck⊠SanâŠâ you whine, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, his warm mouth almost too much for you.
âDonât whine,â he groans, curling his fingers harder inside of you. âYouâre not nearly wet enough, and Iâm a big boy baby.â He smiles around your clit, his teeth nipping at it gently.
Your muscles tense, and you moan drunkenly at each press and prod of his thick fingers; each slip of his tongue has your brain fogging over.
âNeed you to cum at least once before I fuck you, I might hurt you, beautiful.â All sweet sugary words, but the sinful grin and the precise way he works out your cunt make everything he says fall on deaf ears.
âSo get nice and wet for me, soak yourself, so I donât break you when I put you through this wall.â Sanâs fingers move faster, deeper, his lips staying attached to your clit as he sucked on it greedily, and your legs began to shake.
His promises make your orgasm fly towards you faster, and coupled with him suckling on your clit, he moans lowly around it, the vibrations setting your nerves on fire.Â
âI feel you, youâre right there.â Sanâs fingers press against your G-spot with the perfect pressure, circling the pads of his fingers against that spongy spot with mind-melting purpose. âKeep your eyes on me and cum on my tongue, mkay?âÂ
Your breath shudders in your lungs, and your hips buck against his mouth, and then youâre shattering around his fingers. Your entire body shakes as he drags his fingers against your walls slowly, his tongue lapping at your clit to help you ride it out.
âThere you go, that's it⊠let it go, baby.â You whine loudly, gripping his hair so tightly he growls in pain, but his fingers never cease their movement, his lips moving away from your clit and peppering kisses against the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
âRock your hips, let it run its course⊠like that. Such a good listener.â Your hands eventually fall from his hair, your body twitching, his warm tongue dragging up your inner thigh and licking the sweat of your skin.
With one final kiss to your knee, he lifts himself from below you and backs you up against the wall, giving you no room to run. His forehead presses against yours, a hungry glint in his eyes as his hands cup the underside of your thighs and lift you against the wall, secure in his big arms. His mouth finds yours again, all heat and desperation on his lips as he kisses you into a fever.
âSan, it's too hot, pleaseâŠâ You cry pathetically. âTake it off.â San groans and flattens his tongue against yours, drool slipping down your chin as he kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy.
Heâs holding you against the wall with just the force of his body alone, reaching down and pulling your shorts and panties off your legs. Your tank top is next, all but ripping it off your body. He reached back and pulled his own sweat-soaked top over his head, throwing it across the heated hallway.
His mouth dips down and takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling his thick tongue around it and sucking hungrily. You whimper, your hands flat against his back, your nails scratching pretty red patterns against his skin as the stimulation rocks through your nervous system.Â
He kisses up your chest, along your neck until his mouth slots with yours once again with a sick kind of greed. âNeed you so badâŠâ he groans against your lips, massaging your thighs as you feel him line his leaking tip up with your fluttering cunt. Hot and pulsing against you, you bite his soft bottom lip and look up at him, your eyes glazed over and begging for him.
He wraps his hands around the back of your neck, his forehead firm against yours. His dark eyes bore into yours like heâs trying to peer past them, and youâve never felt so exposed.
You feel as he teases your entrance, just barely slipping the tip inside of you. You began to shy away, your eyes fluttering shut to escape his heated gaze. But Sanâs hands cup the back of your neck harder, fingers locking at your nape, brushing his lips over yours a little less gently this time.
âStop running.â He purrs dangerously, and slowly he slides his cock inside of you. Each inch that breaches your walls, he stops when your eyes roll, and only continues filling you up when your eyes meet his once again.Â
Your mouth falls open against his, he pushes further inside of you, and every pulsing inch of his length grazes your walls so perfectly. San winces and sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the warmth of your insides thinning his string of composure.
âTaking it so fucking good, babydoll, such a needy pussy, sheâs sucking me in.â His thumbs stroke your heated cheeks, and he catches the drool that slips down your chin, promptly sliding his thumb in your mouth.
âKeep your spit in your mouth, baby. Weâre already messy enough, donât you think?â When his hips press flush against yours, you sigh aloud, feeling so full your bones rattle in satisfaction.
Sanâs brow furrows, keeping his thumb in your mouth, he pulls his hips back slowly, dragging every thick inch of his dick against every nook and cranny of your insides, sliding back in with a low moan.
You whine around this thumb, his fervent eyes making you want to cry. You could not escape his gaze, his hands, his thick, hot cock splitting you open against your hallway wall. He rolls his hips into you, his fat tip nudging that spot deep inside that makes your legs clench around his hips. The hands on your neck hold your head steady and still so you canât look away, and heâs easing into a rhythm.
Lazy and deep, he slides in cock in and out of you like he was trying to rock you to sleep, but the pressure only made your body tingle. Your fingernails rake up his back, and San winces, kissing the corner of your mouth, grinding his cock so sincerely into you that your moans come out in sad, desperate gasps.
âYeah babyâŠâ he coos against your skin, the resonant sounds of your slick cunt trying to suck him back in each time he glides out, sending your brain into overdrive. âSlow, deep strokes. Let you feel everythingâŠâ
His thumb presses down against your tongue, and your eyelids shake, doing your very best to keep your eyes open. âSan..â you mumble around his thumb. San cranes his head upwards so he was looking down at you, his lids low and his mouth parted in continuous soft moans.
Every time he bottoms out, he's sure to grind into you, to really torture you, forcing you to feel every thick centimeter of him brushing every nerve inside of you. He eases into a meaner pace, slipping his thumb out of your mouth and dragging it down your bottom lip. His hands move to the front of your neck, his fingers cradling your jaw while his thumbs press against the sensitive soft spots on the sides of your throat.
He presses just hard enough to limit your airflow, and your head begins to buzz quietly. He drags his hips back slowly one last time before he sinks back in with renewed vigor, fucking you hard and deep against the wall.
Pounding your pussy with a passion that made your chest flutter, moaning weakly as he stared down at your bliss twisted face with nothing short of pure adoration. And maybe a bit of pity. He was kind of bullying you, but he wouldnât say he was loving watching you struggle to take his cock.
Struggling to accommodate his change in pace, struggling to breathe around deep strokes and feeling so full it felt like you had no space to take in oxygen.
âPretty little girlâŠâ he bites out around a bassy whine, pressing his thumbs harder against your throat. âYou feeling full, babydoll?â
You canât even nod with the hold he has on your head, and you cry out when he targets a hard, sharp thrust against your sensitive gspot.
âI know baby....â he taunts you with his pouty voice, teasing you about your sensitivity. âBut it feels so good doesnât it?â San swallows your swollen lips in a consuming kiss, grinning when he feels your moans fall down his throat. âDoesnât it?â he murmurs into your mouth.
âY-yes! Fuck.. feels s-so good..â you cry against his lips and hes fucking you harder, driving his cock into you with a force that has your slaps of skin echoing down the dimly lit hallway.
âYeahâŠâ he laughs lowly, biting your tongue playfully. âNo more running, you take it like youâre meant to sweetheart. God youâve been driving me fucking crazy.â
His breath stutters when you clench around him, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead against yours, directing his gaze to the nasty sight below. His thick cock rutting into you smoothly, you cream coating the length of him with each thrust, your cunt sucking him back in like it had a mind of its own.
This pulls a loud, deep moan from San, and you take a moment to attempt to catch your breath now that his attention was directed elsewhere. He slows down to really watch the way he slides in and out of your guts, mesmerized by the sight. Heâll pick up the pace again, transfixed over how your bodies connected, how your bodies seemed to crave each other.
The slick coating your inner thighs, the sweat trailing down the rolls in your stomach, the drops of wet that fell down the dips in his abs. He was addicted in the best way.
âDo you understand how crazy you make me feel (Name)?â Heâs working his way back up to that deep punishing pace, gathering drool in his mouth before heâs spitting on his cock as it slips in and out of you, drunk off the feeling of your warmth around him.
He drags his eyes back up to yours and his gaze is feral, and you canât help but whimper pathetically. Rolling his body into yours his pace grows sloppy, too lost in the pleasure, soft, heavy moans falling from his lips.
âPlease, need you to cum again. Not gonna stop- fuck⊠not till you cum. Please, babyâŠâ San begs lowly, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his warm tongue dragging across your skin, his warm pants of breath fanning over your ear.
Heâs adjusting the angle of his hips, searching for that perfect angle to send you over the edge. Your nails dig harder into his back, and you nearly squeal when he hits that spot just right.
âRight there?â San groans, and he stays just like that, pounding against that sweet spot nice and rough, and blood pumps, and your brain melts as he fucks you against the wall with the sole intention of unravelling you.
âMmhm, right there. Câmon babydoll, jusâ wanna be good to you. Jusâ wanna make you feel good, you turn me on so much. Fuck, it's insane.â He's rambling, your moans drowning out his low voice when he slots his lips with yours in a wet kiss.
You stutter over your breathless words, trying to tell him you were cumming, but he can feel you, he can feel you pulsing around him and gushing all over his cock.
âFuck!â you whine, your thighs shaking around his hips as he fucks you through your orgasm, rocking his hips into you to drag that climax out of your body.
His hips slow to a heavy grind, your constant clenching making his sensitive cock twitch inside of you. âFuck, Iâm gonna cum.â San whines, pressing his forehead against yours.
âLook at me, please, baby.â He whispers against your lips, his hands holding your face like you were everything. âLook at me while I fill you up.â
You bite your bottom lip and whimper softly, giving him those sweet little needy eyes. âWan you to cum in me SannieâŠâ you whine, your breath fanning over his lips. âPlease, wanna feel it spilling out of me.â
Sanâs eyes roll, his breath laboured and breaking. He presses his lips to yours, sinking his cock deep into you one more time before heâs cumming, filling you up with his seed. He groans into your mouth, his deep noises cracking as he rolls his hips into you, fucking your pussy full of him, riding his orgasm out with your spent body.
âFuckkk meâŠâ San runs his tongue over yours, his breathing coming to something calm as his high finishes washing over him.
As soon as you catch your breaths, you glance up at him expectantly. âYou think we could turn the AC on now?â
San raises an eyebrow and laughs out loud. âYou still hot, sweetheart?â You smile and half roll your eyes.
âWell, Iâm certainly not cold, San. I think we got a little distracted.â He smiles so softly it makes your heart go fuzzy, and he's kissing you tenderly and slowly. You giggle against his lips when his hands gently caress your sides, helping you down off the wall and onto your feet.
You stumble a little bit, but he catches you, being sure to make sure you donât crumble to the floor. âWell, letâs see then.âÂ
He reaches next to him and slides open the closet door, and lo and behold, the AC has defrosted. He leads you over to the thermostat, and with a flip of the switch, you can hear the familiar whirring of your functional HVAC system, and you nearly cry tears of joy.
âWell would you look at that, good as new.â San smiles, his little dimples on show as he massages your shoulder. âItâll take a minute for the air to cool but you should be good for now.â
You pat his chest and wipe the side of your neck. âNext time it frosts over Iâm just coming to your place, no way Iâm sitting in the heat like that again.â
San lowers his lips to your neck and kisses it softly with a smile, tickling you. âCâmon, it wasnât that bad now was it?â He murmurs, his hands hooking at your hips and pulling you closer.
You barely resist his soft touches before youâre shimmying away. âYouâre all sweaty San, you need a cold shower, bad.â
He clicks his tongue as he follows you to your bathroom. âHey, you literally are too, if not more than me.â With a click of your bathroom door, you pull him inside and run the cold water, sighing softly as he kisses you stupid against your vanity mirror.
Your free spirit of a cat is perched on the windowsill of your neighborâs apartment, meowing softly at Sanâs cat, whoâs sprawled on the floor in the comfort of the working AC in his home.
She bounds down onto the floor and nuzzles up against the male cat, purring softly.Â
One problem after another is solved. Your leaking fridge, your cracking floorboards, and now your AC. Next on the list is probably trying to find out how your cat keeps breaking and entering your neighborâs house.
But youâre sure he wonât mind, youâll be seeing a lot more of each other after all.Â
Ù àŁȘâ prostitute!seonghwa x afab!reader
Ù àŁȘâ synopsis â°â†where seonghwa develops an infatuation with a woman who repeatedly refuses his services; takes place in late feudal era japan
Ù àŁȘâ word countâ°â†13.8k
Ù àŁȘâ cw â°â†smut (mdni!), [semi]-public sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex, fingering, cheirophilia, dacryphilia, obsessive hwa if you squint, dom hwa, begging, overstimulation, cum swallowing, dirty talk, praise, edging, pet name usage (pretty bird)
Ù àŁȘâ terms to know before reading:
getas > traditional shoes worn in feudal era japan
yukata > casual form of kimono, worn by commoners in this context
shogun > military rulers
zataku > low dining tables; the type of tables you have to be on your knees to eat at
Ù àŁȘâ a/n â°â†i tried to research proper clothing/other cultural aspects. please let me know if anything is inaccurate!
âCome back again tomorrow.â
The sudden slump in your shoulders was followed by your defeated groan. Your gaze trailed down to the merchant across from you; her frown spread across her wrinkled face as she saw the bamboo woven basket rested firmly in your grip. You heard her sigh before she spoke apologetically.
âA man came by and purchased the last bunch of the night. Right before you appeared,â her head dipped and glanced down at the absent goods from her stand.Â
âThat is why Iâm still here. If it werenât for my worn out bones, Iâd be returning home by now,â she chuckled, âI canât move as fast as I used to.â
You stared down at your empty basket, the sudden wave of disappointment evident on your face. All of the effort needed for sneaking out of your estate and disobeying your curfew to search for a late night snack because of the strict diets your family put you through was now just a waste. You sighed; maybe this is a sign from the universe to stop sneaking out at night, the thought crossed your mind. The defeated look you carried on your face glanced up at the older merchant.
âI understandâŠâ You bowed your head down before you began to walk away, giving the merchant one last solemn look. The farther you walked, the more your stomach craved yakitori: the yakitori that was sold for a price so low that it was almost offensive, and the yakitori that tasted better than any course that was fed to you to maintain your figure. This yakitori was a staple in your diet that preceded any sleep that your parents assumed you were getting.
Walking home with an empty stomach and an empty basket could almost be as bad as your sneaking habits being discovered by your father. Normally when you snuck out, you would be loaded with sweet and savory goods that you couldnât get anywhere else. The yakitori from Mrs. Ogura was the cherry on top that made the late night runs so special. Except tonight was unique, where it seemed that a crowd before you had already swept the goods before you could even make it.
As you continued the disappointing trek home, you fell upon a fork in the road. Two pathways that lead you home were presented. The quiet lane, as you called it, was the path you normally took. It was a path that cut through residential buildings for commoners and other vendors. Except this time, the quiet lane was far from quiet; a crowd had gathered around to witness what appeared to be a dispute between two men. You glanced over to the other path; it gave a shorter journey back home and less people to potentially recognize you and your status. Normally it would be an easy decision on where you should go, but this shorter path was home to the Red Light District, a place you had no business being in. You watched older men stumble into brothels and soaphouses while there were women who drew customers in with just a quick glance and wink. You glanced at the quiet lane, now showing no signs of deescalation, and then glanced back at the Red Light District. As if your shoulders couldnât slump any deeper, you sighed and walked away from the quiet lane.
Keep your head down, donât make eye contact with anyone, you repeated those affirmations in your head as your eyes were glued onto the uneven, maroon pavement. Itâll be easy to avoid confrontation with people here since itâs not like these workers force you into prostitution. That is what you kept telling yourself at least; you could feel stares burning onto your passing slumped figure. You were moving as fast as your getas could muster, but the uphill road seemed to have not seen renovation in decades.Â
The tension in your body withered slowly as the hike continued. You heard a few whistles and calls, but none of them were directed to you. One by one, the clients that were once walking the same road as you were beginning to thin out and disperse into buildings. You were now alone, or so you thought. Your head was lifted up from the ground and continued to walk the trail that appeared to be coming to an end. What you didnât see was one last stare from afar burning onto you.
âCare to join me, pretty bird?â
Those words echoed through the empty road. You nearly halted in your tracks, turning your attention to the source of that echo. This was different from the other interactions you had heard previously; you were sure this time that this voice was directed at you.Â
Your eyes finally fell on a man standing near a dimly lit alleyway; his feathery, long, ebony hued hair encaged his face as he leaned on the corner of the building. The dark gaze he held on you peered through the wisps of his hair and the vibrantly colored fan he kept over most of his face. You drew your head away from the man and continued your stride back home. You had already made the mistake of looking at him, being temporarily entranced by his alluring gaze, so it was best not to answer him. You may not have heard him speaking again, but you felt his eyes back on you once more.Â
The walk out of the district was over soon; you still had over ten minutes left of your journey to complete before you finally reached your estate. However, the man you had encountered had lingered in your mind far longer than you liked to admit. Perhaps it was because you were intrigued by the idea of a man doing work like that, or perhaps it was because of the gaze he held with you and how you were ashamed to admit that it made your heart pause in the moment. He was quite the opulent man, the thought crossed your mind. You shook your head at the thought; you werenât the type of person to engage in such activity with a random. Especially with someone with status such as yours. How would your family deal with you if they found out that their royal bloodline could have been potentially tainted by a district worker?Â
The rest of the walk home was silent; you successfully managed to return to your room without anyone alerted of your presence. The thoughts you once had about the man you encountered were then pushed away as your empty stomach begged you for the food you had failed to acquire. It was then that you remembered that the next day you had promised your cousin that you would go shopping for jewels with her. Maybe then I can find a food vendor, you pondered to yourself as you felt your eyes drift into slumber.
Growing up with Hime made your childhood more bearable; Hime wasnât like a best friend, but she was someone who served a valuable purpose to you. Unlike the other women of your class rank and your other cousins, Hime was someone who never seemed to be facetious even if it was just around you. No glaring after everything you said, no snickering behind your back, just a girl who wanted to share her life with you.
And that is what today was.Â
Your voyages at night greatly differed from your day appearances. Expensive kimonos, extravagant eye makeup, and neatly tied hair went to cheap yukatas you secretly purchased and loosely tied strands of hair shielding your eyes. In the bright and early afternoon, the same street vendors you visited at night were making sales to common folk and the wealthy. You walked alongside your cousin as she went on and on about some topic that you couldnât quite remember at the moment. Revisiting the same road you were once at last night made you think about the prostitute you encountered. His sharp, striking eyes making eye contact with you failed to escape your head.Â
âAre you even listening to me, y/n?â
The sound of Himeâs voice cut through your thoughts like a blade.
âAh- I apologize,â your startled voice stammered as you quickly turned your head over to her.Â
Hime glanced over to you with a slight frown. âIf Iâm boring you out, just tell meâŠâ
âNo no, thereâs no need for that- I mean, youâre fine. I was just distracted by somethingâŠâ You trailed off. Hime sighed as you both stopped at a jewelry vendor.
Hime continued as she examined the various ear pieces displayed in front of you both, âWhat were you distracted by? Better be more interesting than me rejecting Hikaru for the fifth timeâŠâ She began to briefly speak with the merchant as she waited for you to explain. You couldnât tell her that youâve been sneaking out almost every night to get food, and you certainly couldnât talk to her about the alluring prostitute you encountered last night.Â
You cleared your throat, âJust⊠thinking about whatâs for dinner tonightâŠâ Thankfully, Hime was too invested into the jewelry she was examining for her to even question the validity of what you said.Â
âMhmâŠoh, yes! I think blue suits my skin tone quite well too!â Hime looked over to you and spoke, âYou said youâre thinking about dinner? Would you care to join me tonight? I believe the menu tonight is being prepared by a foreign chef. I believe he is from an empire in the west. You might enjoy it!âÂ
âActually, Iâd quite enjoy that. Iâll be returning home with you then,â the idea of eating western cuisine, something you didnât do often, enticed you. You spoke with a faint grin in anticipation.Â
Hime had continued to speak to you about Hikaru, the man who had been trying for months to get her attention, while you assessed which jewel aesthetically complemented her the best. You had managed to get the man out of your head now, likely only because your cousin put another man into your head to think about.Â
You glanced around the market place to assess the scene; commoners were the majority of the crowd present. Many families, adolescents, and lone figures were seen either selling their goods or purchasing others. You didnât get much time to observe people since you were either cooped up in your estate or avoiding attention from others in your nightly escapades. Watching people in their most authentic state wasnât an activity you got to practice very often; whether it would be within your family or at the various events you are required to attend, frequently you notice people putting on their best mask to appeal to others. However, with common folk, you could appreciate seeing them interact without thinking they are putting on a performance for others to believe.
Your gaze was beginning to return back to Hime until you caught the gaze of someone in the crowd. A man. A man was briefly watching you until he turned around and engaged with a vendor. His back was facing you now, but you felt an uncomfortable familiarity with him. You couldnât recall the exact image of his face, but the vague glimpse you caught of his eyes were enough to send a shiver down your spine. Observing his back, you saw the grey striped yukata he wore with his black hair falling on his shoulders. It canât be him, you thought to yourself as you watched him idly.Â
You couldnât even break your gaze off of him. He didnât pose a threat to you or anyone in the area, so why are you worrying so hard?
ây/n~â
ây/n.â
ây/n!â
The sound of Hime calling out your name once more shook you back into reality. You flinched and glanced back down to her, muttering a quick apology.
âIs everything okay?â Her eyebrows furrowed up as her frown deepened. âYou seem a little absent todayâŠâ
âIâm sorry, I just got distracted by a vendor over there. Uh, we should visit that one next!â The excuse you made up was enough to convince Hime, which was enough for you. You waited for a few more minutes so she could purchase her jewelry, checking your back every now and then to see if the man had looked over at you again. But yet, he was standing still, conversing with the same merchant.
It probably wasnât him then, you sighed as you began to walk with Hime to search for another vendor. As you made your way down the street, you made conversation with her once again while your eyes scanned the crowd. When you passed him, your gaze made its way back to him for the final time. There he was, idly stationed, bargaining what seemed to be a yukata with the vendor. You sighed, perhaps this was all nothing, you managed to calm yourself down as you continued to walk with your oblivious cousin. Even if it was him, he would have never recognized me with this look, you assured yourself.
What you failed to realize, was that same burning stare from earlier came back to look at you one final time.Â
The marketplace had called back to you just a few nights later. This time, you had made sure to sneak out earlier, so you could obtain Mrs. Oguraâs yakitori, among other goods from other vendors, before it ran out. The usual twenty minute walk was condensed with your enthusiasm and energy.Â
Once you had set foot onto the main street, you bounced from vendor to vendor to acquire all of the treats you had daydreamed about since the last late night journey. Though you had arrived at the busiest time of the night, you had managed to gather all of the treats your mouth had been salivating for. Even the fresh yakitori, which you were now eating as you made your way back home, was readily available for you to enjoy.
With the yakitori skewers in one hand and your woven basket in the other, you walked down the main road, more joyfully than usual, to prepare your journey home. It wasnât until you ran upon the fork in the road once more. The quiet lane, the path you usually took to go home, was occupied by samurai policing the street. The halt in your steps came as quickly as the disappointment; walking down a road occupied by samurai was dangerous for you, the niece of a powerful shogun in the region. It appears that the altercation that took place many nights ago had prompted samurai presence in the area. You stared down the quiet lane before you groaned to yourself, spinning on the heel of your feet and making your way towards the district.
If the uphill road and the cheap, stiff getas you were wearing didnât exist, perhaps you wouldâve gotten home quicker. The street had gathered more clients than the previous night which made navigating up the road more challenging than it already had been. You struggled to keep your head held down due to you still feasting on the fresh yakitoris. You were down to your last skewer, making your way through most of the district. The drunk men on the street that stumbled their way into soaphouses were thinning out, leaving just you alone on the street - or so you had thought.
âIâve missed you, pretty bird.â
The sound of the familiar, delicate voice of him. The unmistakable voice you had heard days ago. The sound of his voice did not startle you much despite the shiver it caused; if that, the sound made you walk at a quicker pace. It seemed to have been working, until you heard his strides follow behind you.
âThose cheap clothes donât fool me.â
âI know who you are.â
The simplicity of his statement made you halt. You whipped your head back to face the prostitute, who now dropped his fan from his face. In the eyes, he resembled the same man you witnessed watching you briefly at the market. Of course that was the same man, your thoughts raced across your head. Your secret identity had been figured out so easily, by a man youâve never talked to at that.Â
All that could be heard in the street was your uneven breathing and the panic settling in. It seemed to be apparent to the man, as he slowly stepped closer to you, still maintaining his distance.
âIâm right, arenât I?â The question slipped off his tongue like silk. The gaze his eyes carried was striking, but still held a level of softness to it that almost made you want to give up your guard around him. The softness in his eyes completely contrasted the faint, but mischievous grin he kept on his face. You stared at him and contemplated your next action. Lying was stupid; he was so sure of himself that it would take physical evidence for you to prove otherwise. Either way, his gaze almost seemed hypnotizing, like every action you did under his watch was under his command.
âNever fear, pretty bird. I mean no harm to youâŠâ He took one gentle step closer to you with the same expression plastered on his face.
âThen how could I possibly be of service to you? Iâm not interested in what youâre selling.â You managed to tell him, taking a small step back. âIn fact, I was just on my way home.â You watched him cock his head to the left, intrigued by your resistance.
âYou surely donât act like it. There's got to be a reason we have met for the third time this week.âÂ
You gulped. As you were choosing what words to speak next, he had already beat you to it.
âYou donât think I donât see the way you look at me?â A step closer. âOr that I see youâre starting to frequent this side of the city,â you avoided his stare on you as you felt your figure being scanned.
âItâsâŠitâs complicated,â you took a pause. âAnd frankly, none of your business.âÂ
And with that, you spun on your heels and began to walk away, hoping that wouldâve been the last encounter you had with him. As you walked, you heard more footsteps behind you. This time, they seemed to grow heavier, like he was trying to catch up quickly.
âIf youâre worried about me exposing your little secret, donât,â he started suddenly, his tone coming across as more serious.Â
âIâm not concerned with that.âÂ
You paused in your tracks again and turned around to face him. There he was with that smirk gone off of his face, showing a glimpse of vulnerability and empathy from a man you had just met. However, with his next statement, that vulnerability would be gone.
âHowever, I wonât lie and say it doesnât intrigue me at all,â he eyed you up and down once more, his sly smirk returning fuller.
âI told you Iâm not interested. Iâm not sure why youâre still so stuck on me. Donât you have other clients to attend to?â You took another step back which was followed by a subsequent step forward from the man. You didnât feel fear around him, but rather you felt uncertainty brewing in your stomach. Uncertainty was brewed from your unfamiliarity with him and a secret, dwelling feeling that you couldnât describe.Â
Silence fell upon the man for a second before he smirked down at you. A step closer he took, staying nearly an armâs distance away.
âItâs not uncommon for me to do services with wealthy men and women alike. But youâŠâ youâve never seen a stare so soft yet so intense. Perhaps it was the way he paused his sentence to read your face like an open book. Perhaps it was the way the mystery behind this man was almost enticing.Â
âIâve never met someone so resistant, yet so willing,â a silence fell upon you and him. You could feel your eyebrows furrow at the ridiculousness of his statement. Of course he was being delusional, you were everything but willing. Who did this guy think he was? Or perhaps you felt called out and read thoroughly. Regardless, the scoff you let out shortly after made him raise an eyebrow.
âDonât flatter yourself too much. Iâm only down here so I donât get caught in those street patrols,â you nudged your head over to the direction of the quiet lane with the manâs head also following.
âAh, youâre only visiting me because of thatâŠâ disappointedly he sighed before you opened his eyes back to you, a smirk returning to his face.
âBut, still doesnât explain why youâre still here talking to me. You couldâve justâŠleft, yes?â You didnât even have to look at him to see the smug expression he so pridefully carried.Â
And with the final furrow of your eyebrow, you spun around again and stormed off away from him with a groan under your breath. This time, you didnât hear him follow you, nor did you hear a call back to you.
âYouâre delusional,â you told him one final time, already taking off.
What he couldnât see was the rosy blush that crept up to your face or the brisk biting of your bottom lip. What you couldnât see, however, was his menacing smirk growing heavier on his walk back down to his alley.Â
You contemplated never sneaking out again; the quiet lane was occupied by samurai forces each night you went out, no matter what time of the day. Mrs. Ogura had told you that the altercation a few nights ago was between a now wanted man and an officer. If you couldnât walk down the quiet lane then, you certainly couldnât walk down now. Of course, this meant that your interactions with the man were almost inevitable. With every time you wanted to go get extra food so you didnât fall asleep hungry, there was another appearance of him; or so, you assumed.
On your third interaction with him, you had told yourself to walk past him and to not give him the attention he wanted. In fact, you had rehearsed it in your head several times with each rehearsal resulting in you getting the last word.
Except when you actually walked past him again, you found yourself in the same predicament as before: stopped in the middle of the road and arguing with him. In the end, he got the last word. The last thing you remembered before you once again stormed off was the stupid, sly grin he always carried and his eyes piercing directly into you.Â
That night, his eyes were all you thought about; you had never seen eyes like his before. A stare down like his made it increasingly uncomfortable for you to sleep at night. It was almost like he saw through you entirely. Such as the things inside of you that you were too scared to admit. But of course, you werenât craving to see him again, you thought. Itâs normal to think about someone at night when they keep finding you, right?Â
And so the inevitable happened that night: he appeared in your dreams. Of course, it was normal to briefly imagine being suggestive scenarios with a sex worker you kept seeing on accident. Especially if he keeps insinuating such, what else could you do about that? Of course images of him hovered above you with his hair sticking to the sweat coating your face flashed in this dream, no, this nightmare that occurred. Of course, auditory hallucinations of him telling you how much of a good girl you were occurred. And of course, imagines of him completely nude and having you encased in his arms occurred. This was completely normal for you to imagine, of course, because he had been harassing you for some days now. It had nothing to do with any feeling you potentially held towards him, at least that is what you kept telling yourself.
Yet, despite everything, the following night, you went out again. Most of the vendors ran out of food and Mrs. Ogura ran out of her yakitori once again. However, you couldnât recall feeling as upset as you did nearly a week ago. Annoyed and hungry? Yes, but it was probably because you didnât feel like going outside that night. Yet, there you were, walking down the district path once more.Â
You had walked down the path, almost reaching the end, until you paused your steps. The street was desolate and almost bleak. Turning around, you had seen only some older men stammering around and some women through the windows of the buildings. Instinctively, you had made your way down the road, glancing down every alleyway that you passed. It didnât take long for you to finally reach the alley that the man usually resided in. In the middle of the road you then stood, aimlessly looking for that man. Naturally, you grew accustomed to his usual harassment and pestering. It wasnât that you missed it, you were just thrown off by the lack of his voice and the absent feeling of being watched.
Your eyes then fell on a window above you. Inside the dimly lit room, a silhouette was vaguely visible. Despite that, you knew exactly what you were looking at: the silhouette of a man, the man, through the window. Vaguely, you could make out him putting his yukata back on his bare body and his hair flown down and resting on his shoulders. On the ground, a woman emerges from the building with her hair tangled and her own yukata being loose, as if she was just putting it back on.
When the woman walked away from you, your eyes trailed back up to the window. Unexpectedly, your eyes met his face, the man in the window. Despite the lack of light present outside and inside the building, you knew it was the same man from before. The man that had always tried to get your attention. You spun on your heels and resumed your trek home before you could meet his eyes or before he could have the chance to come outside to meet you.Â
The rest of the walk home, a gut wrenching feeling resided within you. Suddenly, in that moment, you wished that Mrs. Ogura didnât run out of yakitoris so that your usual night run wasnât completely useless. The idea that your interactions with the man made somewhat of a positive impact on your night was simply untrue. You werenât disappointed seeing him do his job as a prostitute with another person. You obviously knew how he made his money, that was never a secret to you; so why did your body react the way that it did? You were so sure that your gut wrenching feeling only lingered for so long because you had an empty stomach. Of course, it was your fault for not coming out earlier to grab the skewers.Â
That night, you remained restless. It was because you were hungry, you thought. You continued to blame yourself for not visiting Mrs. Ogura earlier. You knew better than to sneak out nearly thirty minutes after your usual time. This has been the second time you returned home with an empty basket, yet, this feeling, this hunger, was far worse than the first.
For the next few days, you were content with falling asleep hungry. You didnât sneak out as much as you did in the week prior. You convinced yourself that talking with that man again was bad for you, as everything he did, or didnât do drove you insane. Perhaps it was time to acknowledge you began to enjoy his company, which was dangerous. You werenât sexually attracted to him, no, you were just developing a platonic bond with him, which is normal for someone as isolated from the world as you.
It wasnât until this night, where the idea of falling asleep hungry was unbearable. Having such a strict diet like yours was finally getting to you. Your sleep prolonged throughout the day and you were getting exhausted much quicker. You found yourself back at the market street again, standing in front of Mrs. Oguraâs stand, with another empty basket. Not even a yakitori from her; once again, you were too late.Â
The walk up the district path was humiliating for you, even if no one else there was paying attention to you. The growl of your stomach combined with your tiredness made you come to an executive decision. Despite the risks, you decided to eat out in a restaurant, a place guaranteed to have food. You knew a place that was nearby; however, it was quicker to reach there by walking through the district.Â
Towards the end of the path, you came to realize that the man was nowhere to be found. Saves myself from the embarrassment, you thought as the memories of you nearly encountering him naked after a session with a client came into your head. However, you couldnât help but feel an unsettling feeling fester in your stomach, like this was all an unfortunate thing. Nonsense, you thought to yourself, you should be glad that youâre alone right now.
It was almost like you had spoken too soon.
âLong time, no see, pretty bird.â
The familiar whisper brushed up against your ear from behind. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of your surroundings; the man had been walking behind you, attempting to catch up to you just so he could mess with you by whispering up against your ear. You would never admit it, but his attempt in making you flustered worked. Though, you wouldnât have to verbally admit anything, because the cover of your mouth with your free hand and your surprised face being red following your sharp turn to face him was already enough to make him tease you.
âAwe, did I scare you?â His voice was sweet and comforting, yet it carried an underlying vexatious tone.Â
âWha- what are you doing?!â You stuttered, dropping your hand from your mouth. You felt your tense shoulders drop finally, a sigh escaping your mouth.
You finally caught a look at his face. He looked like he wasnât currently working as all of his excess makeup was absent from his eyes. The colorful yukatas he once championed were replaced with the dull, cheap yukatas that the general population wore. His hair encased his dark, olive-toned face, just like in the first time you met him. The same sly look on his face was still present; you just knew he enjoyed the sight of you flustered at any given moment, and that bothered you.
âIâm not working today. If anything, I was preparing to go home. But then, I saw you turn on this road.â He stepped closer to you, placing his hand on your shoulder. âIf you missed me so badly, you shouldâve said something earlierâŠâ You immediately brushed his hand off of your shoulder and sneered at him.
âItâs not about you, I was just searching for food at the market down thereâŠâÂ
âI see then. Is that what you do every time I see you?â He gave a quick glance down at your empty basket.Â
âDoesnât seem to be successful everytime.âÂ
You heard him chuckle at you; your eyes rolled at his teasing before you spun around and began to walk without him. Expectedly, you heard him catch up to you, now walking with you side by side.
âAre you returning home now?â You heard the curiosity in his voice. You decided to not answer him, hoping he would finally leave after he gets bored of you. You continued the walk uphill with the man lingering with you. You could feel his gaze scan all over you again, perhaps trying to read you. You kept your head low, so you wouldnât have to give him that satisfaction of him seeing you submissive and nervous because of him.Â
âIf you donât respond, Iâll just follow you back to your estate. I donât think your family will enjoy you bringing home a pro-â
âIâll give you whatever you want if you promise youâll leave me alone after!â You, normally timid and a pushover, finally snapped. It was like he knew exactly how to get under your skin, and you hated that. You paused in the middle of the road and stared up at him. Watching down at you, you saw his smirk widen at your outburst. It was like he found enjoyment in nearly everything you did, even if it was you showing genuine distaste for him.
âAnything, you say?â The suggestive tone in his voice indicated something far from what you were considering. With your face flushed an even darker maroon, you responded.
âIâm not going to ask for one of your services!â You scolded him. âI was considering taking you out to dinner⊠only because Iâm getting ready to go eat dinner myself!â
The only thing you heard after that was the deep, almost sinister sounding, chuckle emerging from his voice. You glanced up at him, witnessing the most amusement youâve ever seen on his face thus far.Â
âLead the way then, pretty bird.â
In all of your years of being royalty, never have you used your notoriety or wealth to get something you wanted. If anything, you found that it was only degenerates who did such a thing. Youâve witnessed it done by family members, normally to escape small legal disputes they accidentally found themselves in. You vowed to yourself to never engage in activity such as that, under any circumstance.
That was until you found yourself slamming a large sum of cash on the zataku in a restaurant's private room. The host quickly took the money from you and left you alone with the man. As the door slid shut, you immediately felt a sense of guilt.
âYouâre serious about not being caught with me, arenât you?â The man's voice almost seemed to linger with shame as he stared at you from across the table. The room wasnât so small that it was suffocating, but the room felt smaller knowing that the man you sat across from hasnât seemed to leave your mind since your first meeting.Â
Returning his eye contact meant that you suddenly felt bad for making him feel that way. Yes, you paid excessive cash so you, a person with much notoriety, wouldnât be caught with him. However, despite how badly he bothered you, you didnât want to make him feel like he was at fault here. He was likely trying to tease you once again, but you couldnât shake the guilt that you felt in you.
âItâs not because of you, itâs because of me,â you paused for a moment, debating on what words you should choose next.
âI-I canât be caught with anyone who isnât family or below me in status. Itâs not in my control,â you bowed your head slightly, almost as if you were apologizing.Â
A silence fell upon the table until you heard him pouring oolong tea into both of your cups. You knew he was staring at you again. Was it out of frustration? Was he sad? Actually, why did you care? Of course itâs only because youâre just an empathetic person. It would be more concerning if you didnât show any concern or care for his feelings.
Hesitantly, you brought up your gaze from your lap and brought it to his face. This was the first time you had seen him so calm and peaceful, like he wasnât the same man who found pleasure from driving you insane. The tea cup slid across the table and landed in front of you which was followed by his signature chuckle.Â
âRelax, pretty bird, I was just teasingâŠâ The trail off in voice, the weak smile he tried to portray, the solemn sip he took from his cup; he appeared much differently now. You didnât believe that he truly felt unaffected by all of this, but you decided to drop it for now, muttering a small thank you instead.
The next minute was spent in silence, with the exception of the sound of the both of you drinking or attempting to cool down the tea. You snuck glances up at him, trying to gauge what he was currently thinking, or what if he was planning to strike up a conversation with you. Surprisingly, he seemed to be occupying his own business, stirring his tea occasionally.Â
âIs there something the pretty bird wants to know?â He didnât move his contact from the tea cup, but you knew he had caught you staring at him. Your throat cleared, as if his question caught you off guard.Â
âWellâŠI guess I have one- or two, actually,â you paused.
âMaybe threeâŠâ
You heard his laugh echo in the confined space, like his normal demeanor returned back to him. His hands dropped to rest on his lap, leaning in closer to the table. Was his yukata always this loose? The black cotton fabric was vaguely draped over his chest. You ashamedly took a glance down at his exposed, bare chest; his breast muscles contracted with every breath he took under his olive skin glistening in the overhead lantern. Fuck, heâs no different than the dream, you ashamedly thought to yourself. With everything breath, the hem of the cotton teased you, like it wanted you to reach out and strip him bare.
A silent curse in your head was issued by you immediately after explicitly imagining that perverse thought about him. You returned his eye contact and prayed that he didnât catch you fantasizing about his body. Even if you wanted to continue, his voice cut through your thoughts.
âSeonghwa.â
Your eyebrow raised instinctively, not expecting him to blurt out something so random.Â
âI-excuse me?â
âYou were wondering what my name was, Iâm assuming? If you weren't, at least now you know my name.âÂ
The way he delivered his response was cocky and arrogant; but, he read your mind like it was his. In your head, he had always been referred to as âThe Manâ or âthat one prostitute that wonât leave me aloneâ. However, you wanted to give him the respect he required, such as knowing his name.
â...yes. Youâre right,â you took a pause to process his name. âSeonghwaâ, you unintentionally repeated under your breath.
Your eyes met his again, âYouâre not from around here, are you? Iâve never heard that name before.â
âIâm from Korea. Iâve been here since my early adolescence. I hardly remember the language anymore,â he spoke after he took a meek sip of his tea. Your eyes caught his grip on the cup; with every muscle contraction, his veins in his hand bulged. It was distracting. You didnât know what had gotten into you. For the 2nd time tonight, you were ogling at his body while he was doing mundane tasks. You silently cursed yourself again, drawing your eyes away from his hands.
âI like it when you say my name, y/n.â
If you were drinking your tea, which you almost thought of doing to wash down your dirty thoughts, you wouldâve nearly choked on it. Normally, you wouldâve just rolled your eyes at his suggestive comments, but ever since you saw him through that window, dressing his nude body, and when you had that dream about him, you werenât acting like yourself. Perhaps you were just going through a biological phase of some sort, something you couldnât explain.Â
Even though he knew your name for quite some time, as it was public knowledge, hearing him say your name for the first time gave you an odd sense of comfort. Apparently, he had felt the same way when you said his name. You had tried to ignore his comment, and you tried to show that you werenât flustered by it, even if the color of your face and your tense posture showed otherwise.
âUh-anyways, I also wanted to ask, why are you protecting my identity? You do understand, that there are people who would be joyful to know that a family member of a shogun is roaming the Red-light district, right?â A pause.
âSome people find great pleasure in tearing someone with so much power down.â
 There was a silence amongst you two again. The smirk on his face having faded and being replaced with a hesitant lip bite, like he was preparing to share something vulnerable or grave. Putting down his cup, he started.
âAh, that is a valid question to ask,â he kept his eyes trained on you, not in a sly or suggestive manner, but like he was debating on opening up to you. You maintained eye contact, but inside, you wondered if you had asked him a question that had required him to share more than he wanted. Or worse, he was contemplating on actually exposing you.
âI apologize, you donât have to answer th-â
âMany people place their own assumptions about me because of what I do.â
His voice suddenly interrupted yours, his serious tone making a return. When he wasnât behaving mischievously and giving you that delinquent smirk, his permissive gaze that he always carried became more evident. You gave him a small nod, waiting for him to continue.
âI also assume that many people place judgement and assumptions on you as well,â he glanced up at you, searching for confirmation to his claim.
âYes, you would be right.â
He continued, âI donât want to be treated differently because of my status or my job, and I also assume you wouldnât want to be either, right?â You gave him another nod.
âIt is as simple as that,â he leaned in closer over the table, making it harder for you to avoid his eye contact.
âYou may act otherwise towards me, but I can feel that youâre not a part of the crowd who looks down on me. You donât think Iâm an annoying pest; but, you do think I am an annoying human,â in typical Seonghwa fashion, he couldnât finish a serious statement without delivering a joke, even if it was just to humor himself. Surprisingly for him, showing in eyebrows, this got a brief chuckle from you as well, which eased some of the preexisting tension in you.Â
âYou may irritate me, but I donât despise you with all my being. Otherwise, you wouldnât be here right now,â you spoke honestly, still maintaining your guard. It seemed that Seonghwa found your statement humorous, with him only responding with a laugh.Â
The rim of your tea cup returned to your lips as you thought about the last question you had planned to ask him. Initially, you had felt comfortable with the idea of you interrogating him about odd behavior: Why did he flirt so intensively, even when he wasnât working? Why you, out of everyone he couldâve asked? You were afraid to open Pandoraâs Box, nervous about what the answer could be.
You need to be honest with yourself. You were growing attached to Seonghwa; not the same platonic attachment you described earlier, but rather something more, something greater that you couldnât describe. Or a feeling you were too afraid to describe.
Worst of all, you couldnât tell if he reciprocated. Which is why you hesitated to ask him your final question. You wanted him, and after days of verbally denying it, you were too scared to even speak up and mention it. Besides, you were so sure that he had encountered people like this before. People that developed an attachment towards a worker giving them the services they are being paid to do. Except, you arenât his customer, youâre just a woman he occasionally pesters with when he gets the chance.Â
You were probably the only one who was dreaming and fantasizing about the other. After all, you both had just finished a vulnerable conversation about empathy and trust. He would think youâre disgusting for having such perverse thoughts about him still. Your eyebrows furrowed just a tinge, bringing your lips back to your tea. Seonghwa must have noticed your off behavior, because he had spoken up.
âIs there a third question from me that you wanted to ask? I know you mentioned something about that,â unwavering, he held the gaze that you previously broke with him. You couldnât tell if he was completely oblivious to your demeanor or if he was just teasing you again, which drove you insane.Â
Before you could even answer or make up an excuse, the door to the private room opened. Bowls of noodle soups, platters of meat, and cups of rice were dispersed on your table. You thanked the worker, mentally, for coming with the food at the right time. There remained a silence between the both of you as you both watched the plates of food compile on the table. It wasnât long until the worker had left, leaving you, Seonghwa, and the aroma of the food lingering.
Without paying any mind to his question, you unravelled your chopsticks and began eating the bowl in front of you. In your peripheral, you had watched Seonghwa slowly reach for his own bowl before he began to eat, like he wanted to say something else to you. For a moment, you had been glad to enjoy your meal and avoid the uncomfortable question you had wanted to ask him for the past week.Â
But you forgot that âuncomfortable questionsâ donât exist with Seonghwa.
âThe last question you had for me? Were you going to mention anything about that?â He questioned you again after eating a generous portion of his food.Â
âAh- no, itâŠleft my mind. Canât remember,â you were a horrible liar, and Seonghwa seemed to have learned that just now. The burning stare came back and burned holes into your bowed head. You tried your best to behave like there was no issue that was vexing you, but Seonghwa wasnât stupid. He could pick up on these things, likely better than you could.Â
âI think youâre lying to me, pretty bird.â
That damned nickname came back in his vocabulary. You were initially able to just shake off that name like it didnât mean anything. But with your recent acceptance of your feelings towards Seonghwa, a name as simple as pretty bird suddenly carried weight. Suddenly, you understood the power he had over you, and you didnât like that.
You continued to eat your food, nearing the end of your noodle soup. You figured that if you had just continued to play dumb, then maybe, just maybe, there was a slim chance of Seonghwa giving up on interrogating you. Or, if you were super lucky, he could believe you completely, which you doubted. Regardless, youâd rather take that risk than open up.
âI really donât remember, I got distracted by the food coming hereâŠhaha,â your little pretend joke barely made Seonghwaâs lips budge. Instead, the stare in his eyes narrowed in on you intensely. There was a brief silence, the aroma of the food vaguely masking the tension in the air, before you heard Seonghwaâs sigh breaking the silence.
âIs that so?â
You nodded your head, continuing to eat your food.
He paused.
âI suppose I should speak more about myself then. Maybe the question will come back in that pretty head of yours.â
Another pause; this time with you. You tried not to let your nerves show; even the most basic of compliments could suddenly make you go weak, and that was dangerous. So you resumed your eating, hoping the conversation continued smoothly.
You didnât know how wrong you could be.
He took a breath.
âI saw you looking at me through the window.â
You halted your body, a small gasp vaguely escaping you. You didnât have to look at him to know that his devilish smirk returned to his face. It was laced all in his speech; you had no reason to look back up at him to check if you were right. You paused before you placed your bowl down on the table, keeping your head bowed. While you were frantically searching for the right response, with your clammy palms and your quickened heart beat.Â
âI suppose you didnât know that I was watching you too, did you?â Of course this would happen. It was dark outside that night, and the room he was in was even darker. You could only interpret his silhouette, not his face or any other details. But of course, it wouldâve been easier for him to see you in the maroon red lights that highlighted the entire street.Â
You wanted to come up with an excuse, but they were all so pathetic and lackluster. He didnât believe you then, and he surely wouldnât believe you now. You were just going to have to admit that you were ogling his body after pretending to hate his attention for so long.
âI- I apologize for that. I shouldnât have invaded your priva-â
âOh, pretty bird, Iâm not asking you to apologize.â
A pause.
âLook at me, I want to see your face.â
You hesitated to show him your face, but you complied. Your face rose up slowly, finally reaching eye contact with Seonghwa. His stare was intense. And it made you uncomfortable. But you liked it; in fact, you didnât feel any inclination to look away from him. Like you were hypnotized, and you couldnât do a single thing about it. Your palms, however, stayed glued to your lap, hoping he didnât notice.
Seonghwa enjoyed watching you crumble over a simple order he gave. You could see it in his posture, how he leaned forward, resting his jaw in his hand. Or how he carried that damned cocky grin you hated even greater on his face. He had gotten you to behave like a walking ball of nerves after having you act so resistant to him a week ago; and God, was he getting a high off of it.
âDoes anything I'm saying ring any bells for you yet?â
You shook your head. Another lie.
He continued, âYou probably think that youâre hard to read. That I donât understand what your true, most pure intentions are with me.â
He looked you up and down, feeling a sense of control over you and the conversation. You, unfortunately, couldnât feel the same; he was unravelling you piece by piece, exposing every aspect about you that you had tried to keep hidden.
âYou probably think that I donât see you eyeing my body up and down. Or that I donât see how all of the sudden, your demeanor changed around me. Acting so shy and timid around meâ
You felt his eyes zoom in on each one of your features, âI love it when the words I say make you squirm on your lap like that. Or how red I can make your face without even having to touch you.â
You hadnât even realized that all of your seemingly small behavior shifts were that noticeable by him. He saw every change in you. Almost on instinct, your legs uncomfortably shifted together again. Fuck, the way he read you made you damp, yearning for him. You maintained eye contact with him as you spoke up.
âSo whatâs your point?â Your meek voice attempted to taunt him. You watched the color of his face blush pink near his eyes, followed by him biting his own lip like he was holding back a maniacal smirk.
âI want you to ask me the last question you had for me. I want to know if I guessed right.â
He patiently waited for you to finally reveal what you had wanted to ask him all dinner, his finger tapping on the zataku at a steady rhythm. Whether it was because of his taunting voice, his exposed chest, his eyes holding the most graceful, yet most daunting stare, or the veins in his hands bulging, you were starting to lose your self control.
You figured you had nothing to lose at this point. Lying was pointless when he already knew nearly everything about you already. Yet, the fear that lingered within you made you excited, like you wanted to be perceived as a permissive, naive woman who was oblivious to her effect on him. You were so far gone, but you couldnât care much anymore.
âWhy me?â You began, âWhat makes me different from your regular customers that would make you want to come eat dinner with me?âÂ
Finally, the weight of pretending had been released from you. You watched Seonghwaâs smirk progressively grow into a menacing chuckle. This was the question he was looking for, you were sure of it.
âWhy you?â his tone dimmed, washing over the devilish look on his face.Â
âYouâre difficult.â
You bite your lip, as if you were begging him to continue. Seeming like he heard your thoughts, you watched him pause his statement before he sat up and, to your surprise, walked over to you. He slowly knelt down beside you while you remained still.
âYou want my attention. Even if you donât act like it. I always know.â
âBecause itâs written all over your face.â
A pause.
âYou know, itâs not common for me to crave someone's attention so badly. I want your attention too, pretty bird.â
The palm of his hand raised from his side and hovered over your cheek.
âMay I?â
Hesitantly, your full body shifted to face him, giving him permission to touch you. His cool palm, softly landed on your cheek with the heat from your flushed face warming his hands instantly. He leaned in, the opposite hand being placed firmly on the table beside you. He scanned you thoroughly, his eyes raking up and down your body several times. The only thing heard in the room now was the subtle panting above you.Â
âPretty birdâŠdo I really need to explain to you why I want to fuck you?â The breathless tone in his voice escaped him, like he was pleading to you, needing you.Â
With every inch he closed between you two, you retreated, eventually landing your back against the wall. He had had you cornered now, his free hand off from the table and firmly rested beside your head on the wall. The desperation in his face was a stark contrast to the persona he initially played into. The maroon cheeks, the burning stare onto your lips, and the slight tremble in his voice; his true feelings and intentions were manifest.Â
His thumb dragged along your face before landing on the center of your lips, circling the bottom of your lip sensually. He continued, âI think about you when Iâm with my clients. Fuck, I do it all the time. Especially on the nights when you come down the district.â
His knee slowly pushed your legs apart, âStop me if you donât want thisâ, his mouth dropped down to whisper into your ear, earning you a softly pressed kiss below your ear. He returned to look down at your face, staring at you intently while his knee continued to travel up your inner thighs. He stopped his knee at your entrance, letting it hover.Â
This was wrong, you thought to yourself. Anyone could hear us. Or walk in.Â
Despite your concerns, all you could focus on was Seonghwaâs body towering over you with his yukata drawn loose at his chest. Your eyes flickered up and down, from his eyes down back to his chest, and back again. He had barely touched you, but he already had your legs trembling and your breath shaky. When your eyes finally decided to keep eye contact with him, you instinctively bit your lip and his thumb that was lazily drawing circles. The soft hitch caught in his voice didnât last long before he hesitantly inserted his thumb into your mouth.Â
âAre you sure you want to do this here?â You could hear the self-control in him failing with every passing moment. He began to retract his finger from your mouth to give you a chance to respond, but your hand flew up to his arm to stop him; the muscle was flexed underneath your hands. You gently sucked on his finger and lathered it with your tongue, and with this action he understood your answer.
Before you could blink, his thumb deepened into your mouth. The grip you had on his arm tightened, earning a soft moan from you. Your other hand rose up and rested on his bare clavicle. The sly smirk he once wore now returned. He watched your face as his finger in your mouth played with your salivating tongue.Â
âThat night when I caught those pretty eyes of yours staring at me through the window,â he released his finger from your mouth slowly, letting the salvia that soaked his thumb drip on the floor beside you, âThe same eyes youâre giving me right now,â you watched his face zoom in closer to your, feeling the desire in his breath against your mouth. He popped his soaked thumb in his mouth to taste you before this hand returned to cradle your face.
He continued: âI want those eyes on me while I touch you, okay? Can you do that for me, pretty bird?â He stared into you before he glanced back down at your lips. You muttered a quick yes under your breath, your head nodding at a desperate speed.
Before you could even say anything else, he inched away from you and pulled you down by your legs. You yelped as you fell on your back and onto the padded floor. Your legs wrapped over his shoulders, his hands aiding the process. The yukata that once modestly covered your body was now pooled at your hips.Â
As Seonghwaâs gaze dragged over your bare legs, with his hands delicately running across your thighs and up to your ankles. The warmth that radiated from his palms sent shivers down your entire body. You watched him through half-lidded eyes as his hands massaged your legs, going down to your inner thigh. The only thing heard in the room was the soft whimpering you had tried to suppress from outside ears.Â
âYouâre already getting this noisy for me. I didnât know you could be so responsive,â his finger trailed down your thigh once more before he reached the pooled yukata that vaguely covered your wet entrance. The further his finger travelled, the more your body throbbed for his touch. His hand reached higher and leisurely undid the tied yukata around your waist. All you could do was watch as he teased you so slowly, knowing you were craving for him to touch and please you already, your impatient shifting apparent throughout.
âI bet youâre already so ready for me. Shall I check?â He pressed a soft kiss to your calf before he zoomed in onto your inner thighs. His hand brushed away the loose cloth away from your heat, exposing your wet, throbbing core.Â
He took his fingers and pressed them against you, rubbing circles across the lips. Your legs squirmed over his shoulders, a moan echoing in the room with the sound of your slick being played. He licked his own lips as he watched you struggle against his gentle touch.Â
âShhâŠshhâŠdonât be too loud,â his assuring, velvet voice spoke out to you as he slowed his pace down, âbite down on something for me,â he used his free hand to bring the collar of your yukata up to your mouth. Eagerly, you took the cloth into your mouth, both of your hands gripping the cloth with your teeth.Â
Almost instantly, he quickened the pace of his fingers circling your labia. His free hand trailed down from your collar and slid underneath the cotton. His hands made their way to your breasts, giving a generous squeeze to the cup. He had complete control over your body, while all you could do was lay on your back and let him fondle you. The whimpers in your voice had gotten louder when you rolled your hips to the rhythm of his slick fingers.Â
âYouâre doing so good. Being such an obedient girl for me,â his voice purred. He teased a finger in between your folds, maintaining eye contact with you.Â
âMmpfh- Seonghwa, I need you,â you released your teeth from the cloth momentarily to beg, âPlease, please just make me cum.â The speed of the tip of his finger quickened gradually as you continued to squirm and whimper under his touch.Â
Seonghwa, who was getting off at the sight of you obediently and pathetically submitting to him, freed a moan from his lips. He dragged the hand on your breasts over to your nipples, the fingers lazily fondling the soft tissue.
His mischievous grin returned, âYou better keep those pretty eyes on me at all times then. Okay?â His finger titillatingly flicked your clit faster as he waited for a verbal response from you. It was evil; just a few days ago you were so confident that he was just a bothersome man who developed an unreciprocated infatuation with you. Now, he had you moaning on the floor and teasing you.
âPlease- Seonghwa, Iâm being good for you,â you had no shame in your begging; your eyes glistened with tears as his finger continued to play with your clit.
âAwe, my pretty bird wants me to do more?â Perhaps it was the tears in your eyes that prompted him to stop teasing you and finally begin to stick his middle finger knuckle deep inside you. Your teeth clamped back down on your clothes as he started to stroke your pussy.Â
The damp noises of his finger fucking you in the room could almost make Seonghwa salivate like a dog; there you were, hair sprawled out on the padded floor, your yukata dishelved and loosely hanging onto you, and the sight of tears falling down the sides of your face because of his fingers stimulating your body. His smile was maniacal. This is exactly how he wanted you, after all of those days he yearned over your attention.Â
âYou have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,â he pumped another finger into you as he quickened the pace of his strokes while his other hand on your breast roughly massaged with him occasionally pinching your nipple.
Your legs stiffened around his shoulders as you maintained eye contact with Seonghwa through your glossy eyes. You stuffed more fabric into your mouth to muffle the volume of your moans that increasingly grew louder with each of his strokes. Despite the eye contact you tried to maintain, your tears were clouding your vision. Your vision was only worsened when Seonghwa added a third finger; the tremble of your legs was felt by the both of you.
âAh ah, I donât want you to cum just yet,â you didnât need your vision to know that his maniacal grin returned on his face. He stilled all three of his fingers deep in you while his free hand reached up to your face, his finger tenderly wiping away stray tears.Â
âPlease, Seonghwa, please, Iâm so close-â he interrupted your pleading with his finger trailing down your face, landing over your lips.
âBut y/n, you must not understand how beautiful you look under me right now. I just want to keep you like this foreverâŠâ he spoke in such a gentle purr. If it wasnât for you nearly being folded in half with him knuckle-deep into you, youâd be swooned and serenaded by the soft-spoken tone in his voice.
âDo you really want me to make you cum?â He asked teasingly, his fingers moving away from your mouth and back down to your body. You rapidly, desperately nodded; but Seonghwa shook his head.
âUse your words, pretty bird. I want to hear what you want,â His effect on you made you look so pathetic, but you didnât even care; this was exactly what you had dreamed about with him.
âPlease, make me cum, SeonghwaâŠâ You softly plead spoken under your breath, your imploring eyes searching his proud ones for any hint of approval. His eyebrow raised, as if he wasnât fully convinced yet.
âSeonghwaâŠplease,â He eventually chuckled at your final plea, his hand on your chest making its way back to your nipple.
âSince you used your words, Iâll make those lips sing,â Seonghwa didnât give you time to respond; his fingers immediately began to pump in you quicker than before. The soft massages on your breasts turned into his hand kneading them. What once was a room only filled with sounds of your pussy being pumped by his fingers was now a room filled with sounds of your moaning croaking out from between your lips.Â
Seonghwa had noticed that your yukata that you had bit down on to keep quiet was absent from your mouth, âCome on, pretty bird, donât be too loud,â despite his warning, it seemed that he had been aroused by the idea of you being loud when youâre supposed to be quiet for him; the louder you got, the harder and faster he went.Â
Your legs trembled on his shoulders, and your back arched from the ground; Seonghwa didnât need you to tell him what you were about to do. Every twitch and shake in your body told him that you were about to cum.
âThatâs right, cum on me,â Seonghwaâs delicate voice assured you. With your orgasm vibrating into the cloth in your mouth, you finished on him. You threw your head back onto the padded floor, feeling your trembling legs being pampered with kisses that felt like silk against skin.Â
âYou did amazing,â Seonghwa carefully placed your legs down on the floor before he crawled above you, resting himself on top of your stomach with his legs straddling your body. On one hand, his fingers were dripping in your cum; with his free hand, he took your chin and turned your head back so he could continue observing you.Â
His soft, yet proud gaze scanned your entire face; your face was wetted by your tears and your hair was sticking to the tears that trickled down your neck. His clean hand wiped a free tear from your face again before it returned back down to your mouth, his thumb brushing against.
âOpen wide for me,â you obeyed his command, watching his grin grow as your lips parted further. Without any warning, his cum-soiled fingers plunged into your mouth. Your tongue lathered his fingers as Seonghwa leaned down over you. The warmth of his breath was felt with every inch he closed between you. Beside your head, his other hand was planted on the ground, closing you in once again.
Your eyes locked with his before Seonghwaâs stare fell down to your lips, âLet me taste you,â Seonghwa removed his fingers from your tongue, letting his lips connect with yours gently. You melted into the kiss, your hands rising to cup his silk-like face. You couldnât get enough of the sweet flavor that exuded from his lips; along with the soft texture of his lips on yours, you were disappointed to feel him pull back from the kiss, even if it was just to observe you once again.
âYou taste so good, pretty bird,â his head dipped into the crook of your neck, deliberately placing wet kisses under your jaw, travelling down to your collarbone. His hands reached back down to your yukata, slipping through the fabric once more.Â
âI wish I could eat you right now, but I need to finish up quickly,â he rose up from your neck and pressed another kiss on your lips, this time slower, deeper. Every inch of skin on your bare abdomen was being massaged by the graceful touch of his palms. With every moan from you that he felt through the kiss, and with every touch felt by your hands entangled in his hair, the hungrier the kiss became.
His hand trailed down your body again before it reached your labia. His fingers began circling over the region again; the present sound of the wet lips echoing in the room almost made Seonghwa weak, his moan vaguely being heard.
âYouâre still ready for me. Thatâs good,â he broke the kiss as he sat back up, looking down at you while his hands undid the cloth wrapped around him. He let his yukata hang freely open, his cock springing out.Â
The precum oozed from him, running down his length in anticipation. God, you couldnât get your eyes off of his curve, and he loved that. You cursed under your breath, your salivating mouth unable to form phrases. He then came back down to kiss you softly on the nose, before trailing the kisses back down to your neck. All the while, his tip was knocking at your entrance door. You felt it grazing your folds, increasingly teasing you as he continued to suck on your neck.
âNgh, Se-SeonghwaâŠâ your fragile voice managed to escape, âI need more than your tip.â Your hands that pushed the yukata from off his shoulders begged him to do more to you.
âAh ah, youâre being too eager. I need you to ask for it nicer,â his head rose to your ear, whispering his command gently. He leaned away from you, cocking his eyebrow up smugly as he saw the desperation in your eyes. His cock remained at your folds with every twitch causing you to throb harder.Â
âPlease, Seonghwa. Please just fuck me again,â you laid there begging pathetically and so desperate for him. Yet, he didnât move at all. He just stood over you, his bare chest on full display, watching you beg.
As if he was testing you, his cock teasingly inched into you, earning him a desperate, but sinful sound leaving your quivering lips. You knew that he enjoyed watching you squirm around on the ground at his will; with every whimper he heard and with every desperate look he saw in your eyes, you could feel the remote throbbing of his member inside you, like the lust he had for you traversed through the veins that ran up and down his length. Â
He stared down at you for a moment more, like he was enjoying the effect he continued to have on you. Then suddenly, his hands placed themselves on either side of your hips while his body was perched over yours.Â
âFuck, I canât resist you,â was the last thing that muttered from his mouth before his cock disappeared into your cunt. The suddenness almost caught you off guard. You almost disobeyed him and screamed his name, however, you managed to bite down hard on your lips with your pathetic whimpers replacing what wouldâve been a sinful scream.
His cock rested inside of you momentarily, allowing you to regain some composure. His hands, with a gentle yet firm grip, lifted your hips from the ground slightly. The warm air that filled the room crashed against your lifted lower back. Seonghwa panted like a dog in anticipation at the sight of his cock stuffed into your pussy. With the smirk of a deviant, he gave you one last knowing glance down at you.
âRemember to be quietâ
Following the order he gave in his rough, aroused voice, he started his thrusts slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Despite the slow tempo, he made sure to fill you up with as much of his cock as possible. You were doing well with managing him and remaining quiet, outside of a few whimpers that hummed in between your lips. Seonghwa knew this too; he was greedy, and he wanted to push you to your limits. He kept a malevolent smirk on his face that only grew more as his thrusts continued, like he was thinking of all of the fun he could have from witnessing you pathetically try to handle him without making a noise.Â
His gentle grip no longer, he continued to thrust into you at a noticeably faster rate. The sound of his skin slapping against your pussy, the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing from your body, and the sight of his long hair sticking to his temples was nearly enough to make you cum already. The tears you let out before returned to cry out in the sheer pain you experienced from biting down on your tongue so hard just so you couldnât scream his name.Â
But damn, did it feel titillating
Your hands fell down to your breast, stimulating the feeling of him sucking on your nipples earlier. You knew it would make it harder for you to control your volume, but you loved the danger. And so did Seonghwa.Â
Your quivering legs on either side of him, your tight folds clenching around his length, and his flushed face that traded with the smugness he carried earlier; this was exactly what Seonghwa wanted to experience with you. No more nights of him imagining you as his clients. Just the real you, half naked on the floor with his throbbing length fucking you.
 Just as he anticipated, your moans managed to slip through your lips; it grew harder for you to control your volume.
âS-Se-Seonghwa,â you whined shakily, âCanât stay q-quietâ.Â
He abruptly stopped, keeping himself inside you. He looked tauntingly disappointed in you. Of course, he knew this would happen. His body slightly leaned over yours, with his facial features becoming condescending and the grip on your hips softening.Â
He sighed, âAh ah, pretty bird. I wonât let you finish until you stay quiet,â one of his hands left your hips and teasingly drew down to your folds, letting his ring finger fondle with them while he rested inside you. Even the slight tease with his fingers was enough to force you to bite down on your clothing.Â
Your teary, desperate eyes met his. The vague smile on his face showed you that he was enjoying every second of your squirming and whining. Seonghwa watched you struggle to silently keep eye contact with him despite the fondling not ceasing. He just watched you, once again, pathetically try not to whine at his touch.
âYouâre so beautiful like this, being obedient to me.â
The endless teasing didnât stop even when he noticed your precum developing a small pool around him. In fact, it made him continue with another finger. The pain in your tongue and teeth resurfaced again as you bit down harder on your yukata.
A considerable amount of time passed as he continued the slow fondling. Your legs were still tensely still around his body, but the room became quieter. You continued to lay there silently in agony, anticipating for him to continue pleasuring you. His sudden chuckle left you in relief as his hand retreated back to your hip.Â
âYouâre a good listener. Perhaps I shall award you for your good behavior,â he gradually restarted his thrust into you as he continued the praise.Â
âYouâre doing so good, pretty bird,â he repeated his assortment of praises as he gradually pounded you. Your teeth clenched down fiercely on your finger wrapped in the yukata that was once in your mouth while your eyes began to swell in tears once again. The sound of skin contact was louder than before; surely, someone had to have heard such a sinful sound coming from their room.
Regardless, you both knew he was on the verge of cumming. The usual smugness of Seonghwaâs face on his thrown back head was replaced with his mouth agape. The sweat that resided on his temples were now dripping down his olive skin. His bare chest glistened under the lights. The hair that rested on his broad shoulders were stuck to the sweat that emitted from his neck. With the arch of your back and your trembling legs on either side of him, you knew you didnât have much longer left.
âOpen your mouth,â he moaned desperately, his cock twitching in you. Both of you were losing composure; the more Seonghwa softly moaned, the tighter the already tense grip on your hip became. Finally, he whipped out his cock as soon as the cum oozed out of him and slapped the tip on your lips. Simultaneously, your orgasm vibrated throughout the room, allowing his cum to trickle down your throat.Â
You swallowed his fluid before you both laid down on the padded floor, hefty breathing from both of your half naked bodies. He laid on top of you, still like a lifeless body. You both kept each otherâs sweaty bodies wrapped in each other's arms. After basking in the comfort of each other's embrace, Seonghwa elevated himself above you, either hand on each side of your head. He glanced down at you, wiping away the tears that ran down your face.Â
There was a peaceful silence that lingered amongst the room until he muttered, âYou did better than I expected. Iâm pleasantly surprised you managed to stay so quiet,â you rolled your eyes at his claim, brushing more tears off.
âOh please, you think too low of me,â you gave him a grin, âIâm not that stubborn.â
Seonghwa inched away from your face and adjusted his head down at your sore folds. His tongue gently cleaned them, unsurprisingly making you squirm in pleasure. Before he rose from in between your legs, he gave the lips a final graze of his tongue as he retreated back to your face. He pressed his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself once more. Both of your lips tiredly and sloppily meshed together, with your hands returning back to entangle his hair, and his hands cradling either side of your flushed face. Seonghwa finally pulled away, his tired, yet euphoric, gaze studying the gratified expression you held.
âAh, I suppose youâre right,â he jokingly pondered, âIn fact, you gave yourself up to me quite quickly. Earlier, you had almost convinced me that you really didnât want anything to do with me.âÂ
You groaned, pushing his face away from yours in playful irritation. Sitting up from where you laid, you fixed up your yukata, tying it around you once more. Your hands vaguely ran through your hair in its attempt to fix it.
âOne day Iâll have to tame that stubbornness in you,â Seonghwa stood up to adjust his clothes, back now facing towards you. The muscles you had just memorized with your hand were now concealed by his yukata.Â
You briefly paused; one day? He believes there will be another time after this? I mean, of course you wanted that as well. It was just that you were just assuming that what took place during dinner was just a one time thing. Your heart skipped a beat before you shook your head, discontinuing your wishful thinking.
When he noticed your lack of response, he turned his body and knelt down beside you. The vulnerable look on his face made a reappearance; your eyes avoided his face, but you knew that his eyes were glued on your solemn expression as you raked your hands through your tangled hair.Â
âThat is, if you want there to be a next time?â he paused, âI would like for you to come visit me again, in a less public area, that is,â his hand reached up to a loose strand of hair hovered over your face before it halted, like he was asking for permission before touching you again.Â
âI-...well,â you turned your head to face him. It was evident from his furrowed eyebrows and slight frown that he looked disappointed at the possibility of not seeing you again.
âYes, I would actually like for there to be a next time,â the hesitation was noticeable in your voice initially until you scanned his face for a positive reaction. It didnât take long until Seonghwaâs hand finally brushed the hair from your face.Â
âGood,â Seonghwa looked you up and down with his free thumb dragging across your lower lip once more, âAre you sure thatâs what you want? You hesitated to answer,â His thumb slowed down against lips before Seonghwa turned his attention back to your eyes.
âI just wasnât entirely sure if you wanted this again. Iâm glad you do, but I just didnât expect you to want it this much,â you embarrassingly confessed to him. You heard him chuckle, his thumb suddenly beginning to soothe your lower lip once more. The hair that hovered around Seonghwaâs face tickled your cheeks as he leaned in.
ây/n,â he began, âI wanted, needed, your attention for a reason,â Seonghwaâs lips connected with yours in a passionate exchange before he pulled away, his breath being felt on your face.
âYouâre quite the intriguing person. And there is still so much about you that I crave to learn about.â
That sentence alone was enough to convince you. Maybe someone of royalty shouldnât develop an infatuation with a person of a different class, but there was an excitement you had from sneaking out at night. A mutual fixation forming between the both of you, a sex worker and royalty, who were equally forbidden from developing any form of relationship with each other, was a dangerous game that you both were willing to play.
âThen, shall I visit you in a few nights-â
âTomorrow.â
His voice interrupted yours suddenly. For a moment, a flicker of seriousness displayed on his face before the gentle yet menacing smile you were used to seeing grew. His hand trailed down your sleeve slowly before landing on your thigh.Â
âI would like to see you again tomorrow, if your schedule allows it,â he gave your leg a gentle squeeze as he patiently awaited your response. You initially were thrown off by the sudden request from him, so you stilled yourself on the floor without emitting a single sound except for a giggle.
âWell then, I better see you at your alley again,â you promised him with a smirk on your face. Seonghwa stared back at you before he chuckled. He stood up from where he was sitting, towering over your frame.Â
A hand from his side reached down to your head, tilting your head up to view him. The malevolence in his tone seemed to have run away. The gentle, unassuming expression returned to his face like nothing had happened. As if he didnât just make you swallow his own cum. He allowed himself to check out your disheveled appearance, admiring his work he did on you. He finally locked eyes with yours one final time before he last spoke:
âNext time, Iâll make sure to make that voice sing louder, pretty bird.â
Ù àŁȘâ a/n â°â†Lordddd this done took me so long to write lol im so sorry (â„ïčâ„). I've been dealing with college exams this past week so I hope I didn't write horrible here.... anyways, the ateez drabbles should be out as well, so go read that as well! Hope you all enjoyed, lmk if there are any mistakes!! â^. .^ââ
pairingïčąsong mingi x fem!reader
genreïčąsmut. fratboy + uni!au. alcohol consumption, inexperienced reader. first time + unprotected sex. big dick mingi agenda, praise, dirty talk, possessiveness, mentions of multiple orgasms, jealousy + obsession themes, fratboy catches feelings.
synopsisïčąmingiâs used to being chased, but when he finally meets someone who wonât give in, he becomes the chaser. thinking he was playing a mindless game, turns out, heâs the one falling hardest.
FRATBOY!MINGI is used to getting whatever he wants. parting, girls, free alcohol, numbers scribbled on his hand by the end of the night, and then thereâs you. the pretty girl who's always just out of reach and knows how to play her cards right. suddenly he doesnât even look at anyone else.
youâre his favorite girl â not because you give him everything, but because you donât.
he walks into a party and scans the room automatically, not for hookups, simply for you. once he finds you, that's it, he is on cloud nine. attention fixes on you, shoulders relaxing, a wider and softer grin, while everyone else fades into background noise.
you sit on his lap like you are already dating, arms around his neck, lips brushing his jaw, letting him think heâs close, alas never close enough. kissing him slowly and teasingly, the taste of jaeger sweet on his lips, letting him get worked up. big hands sliding to your waist, your thighs, wanting to get under that skirt⊠then you stop him.
not rudely or showing that you don't like him, but the way your acrylic nail is pressing on a part of his chest that is revealed, considering how he unbuttoned his shirt earlier. all he does is look down at your finger then at you. a soft smile, a kiss pressed right at the corner of his mouth instead of where he wants it.
ânot yet,â and it drives him insane.
he groans into your neck, forehead dropping to your shoulder, big hands flexing like heâs trying not to lose it. heâs hard, needy, frustrated, and weirdly attracted to the butterflies you are giving him. he turns down girls without even thinking about it now. doesnât flirt back, entertain, or even give free shots to everyone, just to his friends.
because why would he, when you exist?
and when he gets invited to a big party once again, he tells his friends heâs ânot in the moodâ or when wooyoung comments about another girl looking at him, he says âalready got someone,â even though they know he hasnât slept with you. a little suspicious because mingi never turns down a party or a one-night stand. whatâs worse than being teased nonstop by your closest ones: aww, the big bad boy has gone soft, isn't he adorable?
making out with him is messy and heated. he is so desperate, kisses lingering too long, biting your lip like heâs trying not to let you go. whines when you pull away, laughs breathlessly when you tease him about how horny he gets.
youâre not mocking him about it; you still curl into his side and melt under his touch. and still kiss him goodnight when you have to leave the party, so you just donât let him take that last step.
mingi waits, patient in the way only someone completely interested and hooked can be, knowing that when you finally say yes, whenever that is, itâll mean something.
because you didnât give him your body right away, as every girl did before. you made him fall first, turned the one who was chases into the chaser, and now he needs you in a painfully obvious way.
FRATBOY!MINGI has been fed with only breadcrumbs for the past few months.
kisses that linger just long enough to make his head spin. your fingers brushing his wrist, his hands, the hem of his hoodie, and then pulling away right when he leans in. sitting too close on purpose, knees touching, whispering things meant only for him in crowded rooms. letting him feel wanted, but never satisfied.
a perfect little cat-and-mouse game.
mingi is visibly fascinated by it. he gets quieter around other girls, less interested, and less playful. all his energy funnels into you; every party ends with him finding you. every night ends with him asking you if youâre coming over, and you smiling, saying, âsorry, not tonight,â and you watch how his smile turns into a frown, muttering something like, âyeah, i think iâm not going either. next time, then?â
then comes the group project, and how you end up meeting san and wooyoung at the library, one of his closest friends, and mingi isnât there yet, running late, and somehow the conversation drifts to him.
san laughs first, peeking from his laptop. âyou know heâs down bad, right?â
you barely look up from your notes, not interested, but you are secretly nosy about it. âyeah, like i haven't heard that before. he just likes to talk about girls.â
wooyoung snorts. âno, seriously. he hasnât touched anyone since you.â
that gets your attention as san nods, more serious now. âhe turns girls down, like⊠actually turns them down. all he talks about is you.â
âor he likes bragging about body count, feeding his ego...typical men, no offence.â
wooyoung shakes his head, putting his hands in a âtimeoutâ like position. ânah, this is different. he doesnât even brag about his sex life anymoreâŠinstead, he gets stupid when your name comes up.â
âhe thinks you believe him that he will use you for one night, and thatâs going to be it,â san adds as he notices you suddenly stopped writing with your pen, âand that scares him more than you saying no.â
when mingi finally shows up, slightly out of breath, eyes immediately locking onto you, as he puts your favorite sweet treats over your textbook, your heart suddenly does a whole 180-degree loop. you see it now, the way his face softens, and he wears glasses? the way his shoulders drop, looking relieved just seeing you there, and that boyish smile appears on his stupid, handsome face⊠it makes you feel things.
later, when youâre walking out together, he gently taps your shoulder, scared about such a simple thing, because he wanted to ask you out on a date. opening his mouth, closing it, and rubbing the back of his neck, and all that came was: âwhatâd i miss?â
and suddenly, he doesnât look like a party animal at all, more like the shy and clumsy nerd. cute, you think, a total loser in the best way.
ânothing,â you say, hiding everything you learned about him, while leaning and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, and pulling back before he can react. âdonât slack off, tho. do your part of the project, okay?â
behind the corner, san and wooyoung watch him lift a hand to his cheek like heâs never been kissed before in his life, even if you kissed a million times already, blinking as you disappear down the hall.
yeah, heâs done for.
the moment mingi starts dressing like a normal person instead of a guy who forgets what shirts are, thatâs when everyone knows â heâs serious about you.
FRATBOY!MINGI and you donât even know if itâs because youâre both wasted, or because you tug his hand and try to pull him away from the crowd, clinging to him in a way you never have before. youâve never been this affectionate, so obvious, and it finally clicks for him when you lean in and whisper, all soft and needy, âcan we go somewhere else⊠just the two of us?â
mingi doesnât even stand a chance, especially not with that face of yours, that voice, and the look in your eyes. he nods immediately, letting you lead him through the house until you find a bedroom, door lock included, thank god, and even better, untouched, clean sheets waiting.
and the second the door clicks shut, youâre onto him.
jumping into his arms like youâve been waiting months for this moment, hormones spiking higher than mount everest, body buzzing, and he finds it insanely hot. for once, he is grateful for getting absolutely wasted because what do you mean the girl he likes finally gives him the whole loaf of bread, warm and fresh, instead of just the crumbs? and you, you're so beautiful that you make him wonder if he really wants to feel you physically, and not emotionally. but the fact that your hands are everywhere, mouths crashing together, kissing messy and desperate, saliva shared as clothes disappear piece by piece.
before he can even think, youâre both naked, his body pressed against yours, his cock lined up at your wet foldsâŠfinally going in his dream destination.
youâre nervous, but brave. a virgin who somehow knows more than you should, cheeks warm from the alcohol you drank just for courage.Â
he is buzzing with adrenaline, the kind that makes his hands shake just a little when he realizes what this means. yeah, heâs had sex before, sure, had his first time with a pretty classmate of his a few years ago, but this is his actual first time with the girl he actually likes. the one he waited for without even realizing he was waiting.
âyou sure âbout it, baby?â he murmurs, mouth brushing your collarbone, breath hot as his hands tighten instinctively when you move, excitement and anxiety mixing in your body. he knows how important this is for you, and how youâve been saving yourself for someone worth this moment. ââcause once i start⊠i wonât be able to stop. shitâ never seen such a pretty pussy before.â
when he pushes inside, slow and careful, you feel the stretch immediately. heâs big, bigger than you expected, everything deliberate, meant to make you feel safe instead of rushed. clinging to his shoulders, whining and gasping as he takes his time, letting you adjust, easing himself deeper inch by inch, heâs completely focused on you.
when he finally starts moving, slow thrusts find a rhythm, creating a tempo both of you would enjoy. all you can do is pant and moan, angelic sounds mixing with the faint clinks of his chains and necklaces. your eyes sting with tears, overwhelmed by the reality since youâre really letting him have you. yes, him. song mingi, the infamous fratboy whoâs been hopelessly in love with you for months, whoâs proven over and over that heâs serious, that this isnât another game.
and then he whimpers.
actually whimpers like all soft and broken sounds that spill from him, even though heâs the one in control. itâs absurdly hot, with him dominant, needy, praising you breathlessly while still feeding his own ego because he canât help it.
that boy moves knowing exactly what heâs doing. the way his hips roll, so controlled, aware when to press hard, the way his body stays perfectly in sync with yours: itâs obvious heâs experienced. and yeah, he uses that as an advantage, not to show off, because he wants you to feel good, and special. every movement is intentional, every deep thrust of his body meant to pull another sound from you, another reaction or orgasm. itâs overwhelming because no one has ever put this much care into making you feel wanted, loved, cherished, and most importantly, desired.
what gets him, though, is how fast he loses himself in the pleasure you offer him. mingiâs never been like this before. never came so quickly, or felt so affected by someone elseâs body, reactions, personality, hence their trust. and instead of him being embarrassed that he is no better than that nerd yunho, who has been throwing not-so-secret glances at you during classes, canât even hold a conversation without saying something uncanny, a total fucking weirdo, and visibly a big simp for you⊠he just accepts it, meaning, heâs in deep, metaphorically and realistically.
from there, it blurs like the alcohol in your system. bodies moving in sync, positions changing every five minutes, by the time you realize how wrecked you are, youâve already come more times than you can count. limbs shaking, head spinning, mingi still holding you, but he pulls back just long enough to look at you, eyes filled with so much love and lust.
âneither of us will probably remember a single thing in the morning,â he confesses, voice low and husky, âsome random dude knocking on the door, waking us up⊠but fuck that. tonight, youâre mine.â
he cups your face, kisses you again, hands sliding down to your hips, tracing every curve. âso⊠iâm gonna make you cum again,â he whispers, thumb brushing your clit, with his dick still inside you at a faster pace, with this stimulation it will help you come faster. âat least once more before⊠yes, baby, i know youâre tired, but i want to have you⊠properly, without worrying about being in someone elseâs house, okay?â
his fingers and cock work in perfect sync, teasing, and pressing, rubbing, until your legs shake. âfuckâ yes⊠harder⊠please, m-mingi harder,â you moan, and then you are clenching around him, screaming his name as your stomach twists, âmingi, please, ahâ!â
mingi groans, head dropping to your shoulder, body trembling as he holds and talks you through it.
heâs never heard anything like it. never seen a girl come so desperately, so loudly, so completely on his stupid, big cock. his hands grip your hips tighter, murmuring praise between ragged breaths: âshit⊠youâre so perfect⊠so fucking mineâŠâ
FRATBOY!MINGI has never invited a girl back to his apartment before. honestly, heâs never left a party this fast, either. he helps you dress after he dresses himself; his movements are clumsy, slipping his jacket over your shoulders to show everyone that you are his. he wipes your thighs with something, the sheets maybe, he doesnât even check. big hands stay firm on your waist, mouth trailing along your neck, pulling you back into him every chance he gets, and you can feel how hard he already is again through his pants. it frustrates him because he wants more but knows better.
heâs drunk, but heâs forcing his brain to work somehow, because one thing is crystal clear: he needs privacy, and canât wait another second.
you expect the smell of cigarettes and spirt when the door opens. drunk people everywhere, couples making out, bodies pressed together in dark corners. instead, itâs quiet, and then you see someone.
standing there with a plastic cup in his hand, frozen like heâs been caught eating those godforsaken cookies from the jar. mingiâs mouth is still on your neck mid-kiss. your hands resting over his when NERD!YUNHO stares like heâs just walked into something he was never supposed to see, and so the cup slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor as he swallows hard.
mingi finally looks up, so annoyed and irritated, throwing him a sharp, territorial glare. âget lost,â he snaps. âthe hell are you staring at?â
it doesnât even register at first. the fratboy doesnât recognize him, because in his head, yunho is just some awkward guy, a background character â a nobody. someone who shouldnât look like that, so stylish and handsome that it makes you, his girl, stare for even more than a second.
and whose party was this again? yeonjunâs? he doesnât know, or care.
mingi drags you toward the stairs, fingers laced with yours, already halfway gone. you follow behind him, but something makes you look back.
your head is still foggy, but you know exactly who it is now. the smart guy who helped you study for that impossible exam, the one who smiled nervously when you thanked him, since he stayed late explaining formulas when everyone else gave up. he was actually cute, you thought, and his ears went bright red when you complimented him on his academic achievements.
then you smile sweetly at him, mouthing a soft bye, as heâs still standing there, cup forgotten, watching you go with an expression he hopes you never see him with. looking nothing like the awkward nerd everyone assumes he is. and if mingi knew the truth, that yunho was your first, long before tonight, he wouldnât be pulling you away so confidently.
pairingïčąjeong yunho x fem!reader
genreïčąsmut. heavy dialogue, dilf!yunho, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, yunho in his early 40s), original characters for narrative purposes (jeong minho, kim minsoo). manipulative, obsessive + possessive dynamics, cat-and-mouse tension; pet names (sweetheart, darling, baby, princess, etc.). making out + (f) cunnilingus + faked orgasm [with minho]. reader dresses feminine/revealing, jealousy themes, mention of jerking off. brat-taming, finger-sucking + fingering. a lot of praising with a hint of degradation, big dick yunho + implied size kink, missionary position, unprotected sex (don't do that), plan b usage, multiple orgasms + orgasm denial, creampie. aftercare + confession + secret relationship.
synopsisïčąyour friend minho is everything a girl is supposed to want â handsome, gentle, the kind of boy who is a keeper, a prince straight from a fairy tale. however, stories like that crumble the moment you meet the man who raised him. one smile, and suddenly youâre standing at a crossroads no one prepared you for: one path will drag you to paradise⊠the other straight into hell. and you already know which one youâre going to take, because some temptations were never meant to be resisted.
word countïčą20k
đâč PLAY THE VINYL RECORD .á
you first meet JEONG YUNHO in the way most dangerous crushes begin, and that is accidentally.
youâre in his living room, together with his son, sitting on the couch surrounded by snacks, bickering over some stupid video game⊠when the front door opens and he walks in. not just minhoâs dad or some middle-aged guy. a man so attractive and stupidly handsome, it absolutely shouldn't be legal to be that hot. and he's not even that ripped or muscular, but you could tell he had a nice body under his somehow tight clothes.
tall enough to make the doorframe look small, shirt sleeves pushed up over forearms, and you could see his hands, how his veins popped out, and why are you looking at his hands? god, stop staring at your friendâs dad. he gives you one polite nod before opening his mouth. that calm, deep voice that hits so low it makes you forget about the alphabet and how to speak.
âdidnât know minho brought his girlfriend home.â you nearly choke on your drink, as you and minho looked at each other, even blushing slightly from the comment before sputtering out, âw-weâre notâ ! i meanâ no!â
minho groans, pausing the game to fully focus on his parent and his teasing, âdad, sheâs just a friend.â
but yunhoâs eyes stay on you. curiously observing you, slowly taking in your features, and he must admit that you are more beautiful than in the photos. of course, he knows about you, and you know about him, but you've never officially met. you're just part of his son's friend group, the girl who has more pictures with him than his own family.Â
heâs reassessing everything he just assumed: that you are minhoâs girlfriend. he wouldn't have minded if you were. he knows his son deserves the best; he'll be happy if there's something between you, and there certainly is. he's not the type of guy who'll bring a girl home unless he has feelings for her.Â
because why would he want to take a girl to study or play games at their place when that can be done outside? yeah, he knows these games and tricks too well.
âyou are (name), right? pleased to meet you, young lady. you can call me yunho, drop the honorifics if you want to.â
and the thing is⊠he notices the way you suddenly straighten your pose. he sees the way your legs shift under his gaze, pressing together as your voice gets just a little smaller around him, nervous and slightly high. it's not about looking more feminine, it's just about making a good impression. catching every tiny nervous habit, starting from the lip-biting, the fidgeting, the way you canât look directly at him for too long. does he enjoy it? he absolutely does.
one tiny problem though⊠yunho is twenty years older. a divorced dad, currently single, but so responsible and mature. knows better than to think such things about someone younger, but he can't help it, can he?
the other problem is also that heâs one fine-looking man, and youâve grown into a gorgeous woman, someone who looks at him like heâs something you shouldnât touch but desperately want to.Â
the way you relax around minho and stiffen when he enters the room tells him everything he needs to know. but before you could completely cease to exist, minho stood up and nodded towards the hallway, hinting that it would be better for you to go to his room for some privacy and to... study.
â(name), do you want to start the project now?â and all you did was nod, getting up way too fast and already following your friend from behind. you didn't want to turn around to see his father, because you knew if you did, there would be no turning back.Â
âhave fun, kiddos,â he said, laughing slightly as he saw you enter the room and close the door. then yunho muttered under his breath, very quietly only for himself to hear, âyeah, studying⊠nice one, son.â
you are in minhoâs room now. for the past hour, you've really been sitting down to study, but weren't motivated at all; your mind was somewhere else.
minho is familiar in a way that doesnât make your pulse spike or your thoughts scramble. he makes stupid jokes, nudges your shoulder, laughs at your expressions and teases you a lot, because you are so cute when you are flustered, he said so. the laughter fades a little as he looks at you for a moment too long, taking you whole with those loving eyes⊠next thing you know, you are kissing him.
he kisses like someone whoâs studying you carefully and respectfully. keeping a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as if heâs afraid to push too far. heâs sweet, so incredibly gentle because he knows better not to rush or demand too much: a good boy. raised well, caring and devoted with a good heart, even when his lips move hungrily against yours.
you like him, you really do.
but you donât feel that drop in your gut, that full-body shiver, and the quiet ruin me instinct you feel whenever his father walks into a room, or appears like a genie ready to grant your every wish. the butterflies in your stomach are calm with minho, however, once you are in the presence of mr. jeong, they don't know what to do or where to go.
his mouth is warm against yours, as he murmurs your name, pulling you closer by the waist. kissing you like youâre fragile, like heâs not sure if heâs allowed to want more, even though he is very much allowed to. you kiss him back because⊠why wouldnât you? heâs kind, handsome, easy to be around, someone you can definitely call more than a friend. anyone would feel lucky to be in his lap, to have his fingers tracing patterns on their hips.
just in the middle of it when his hand slides up your back, breath catching softly, you tug on his shirt⊠a thought flashes through like lightning, taking a root deep inside your mind, and you wonderâŠhow will his father's lips feel on yours? your stomach twists with guilt, heart thumps against your ribs, ready to burst out, and youâre too aware of how wrong this whole thing is. both morally and emotionally, viscerally even.
minho pulls away for air, smiling breathlessly at you, because you are the first girl who makes him feel like this. there are no words to describe it, you are just incredible. of course, he has kissed before, but never like this, with such real emotion that even he feels the butterflies flutter. â(name)...â he pants softly, cheeks flushed. âwhy did we never do this before?â
because you werenât sure if you wanted to cross that line. and now every time you look at himâŠyou see yunho. you didn't want to think about how he looked more like his father,, because usually the sons take after their mothers. they were literally like twins, only minho was a little taller, but had absolutely the same features as his father, including his mother's smile, of course, her features could be seen too.
you try to answer, only for your brain to betray you. spinning images of a deeper voice, a steadier grip, a man who looks at you like youâre trouble he wants to handle alone without anyone else interfering. minho misreads your silence as shyness and chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear. âare you okay? if you want to slow down⊠iâm sorry if that made you uncomfortââ a soft knock on the door cuts him off, making both of your heads turn at the sound.Â
âminho?â your entire body freezes the moment you hear him. that deep voice that made your eyes widen, and it wasn't because you were worried he would see you like that; he just had such a beautiful voice. a naturally medium-low tone, thereâs a little bit of rasp when he speaks more casually, just enough to make him more charming.
and your friendâs eyes widen just like yours as he whispers, âshitâ donât move, okay? heâs gonna think, justâ hold on.â he scrambles off the bed, not before gently making you hop off his lap. hair messed up, shirt slightly rumpled, trying to compose himself quickly. while youâre still breathless with swollen lips, and heart racing for all the wrong reasons.
minho opens the door just a crack, so he can take a peek with part of his head and not let his father see what is going on. mr. jeong is standing there in his coat, broad shoulders taking the spotlight, and so is his slightly longer black hair. gosh, wouldn't it be so nice to run your fingers through his soft locks while he goes down on you?Â
one hand in his pocket, probably checking for his wallet and keys, his eyes flicking to minho, then past him, landing on you. sitting pretty on the edge of the bed, with a flushed face and uneven breathing like you just walked straight into a hurricane, trying so hard not to look like someone who was just pinned under his son.
yunhoâs pushes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, very subtle, almost in secret, hiding the annoyance of catching you like that. he wasn't ashamed that he caught you on the spot: he knew very well what you were doing or were going to do. he just couldn't help but interrupt the fun. excuse him, he had to go out, and warn minho that he might stay late with his friends, or as they are known, his uncles.
âeverything alright?â he asks calmly, perfectly masking the emotion he really feels. during his marriage to the first and only woman in his life, minho's mother â kim minsoo, even up until the divorce and after, he learned to control his emotions and the facial expressions he showed. sometimes it was a big plus, especially in situations like these, where he had to take on the role of the cool and super chill dad.
âyeah! yeah, we were just⊠talking.â minho laughs awkwardly, not letting the door open anymore because, well, it's embarrassing to suddenly have your dad knock on your door while you're doing things with your girl friend... or future girlfriend. the young man still wants to wait and test the waters because he doesn't want to force you to do anything you donât want to.
the older man just hums, a sound low enough to curl inside your stomach, a vibration so sensational that you need no ultrasound or x-ray to know that something is really wrong with you. he looks at minho again, who tries his absolute best to make his dad go away as fast as possible, but he paid his son no mind, instead he gazed past him right at you again.
âexcuse me, min,â apologising, as if he was really sincere about something he didn't want to happen and witness in his house...now that he thought about it, did you do anything else in the moments when he was not here? mmm, small chance, if something had happened, minho would immediately be fluttering with joy that, in fact, he has a girlfriend. these are thoughts for later, although it didn't take long to put two and two together. âdidnât want to interrupt your little study session.â
he talked with his mouth to his son, but for you, he used his eyes, which told you: i saw everything, and i know exactly what youâd prefer. yunho lingers in the doorway longer than he should, enough for you to feel his gaze slide over you like a lion ready to strike at the confused and innocent antelope, that sadly can run too fast. albeit you can never outrun and outsmart a predator, someone with too much experience and tricks up his sleeves isnât going to back down until he has his prey between his claws and teeth.
then he finally says, sensing how it was going to be too quiet to save his or sonâs ass from further embarrassment, âiâm heading out for a bit. thereâs food in the fridge. if you need anything else, minhoâs got money.â he emphasised the word you, considering you in the equation because after all you were a guest, and shouldnât be left unsatisfied if you have any cravings.
âdad, itâs alright. donât worry about it,â minho reassures him, voice getting a little annoyed by how his parent isnât planning to leave anytime soon. that's why he doesn't like to take anyone to his dadâs place. of course, he has his own apartment, but some of the rooms are currently being renovated, and he canât stay there.
still yunho isnât looking at him, not even a little, as his eyes focus on you for what he can count as five seconds, before minho closes the door, saying bye. hearing the lock clicking on the front door, you and he can breathe at peace now. âsorryâŠâ he mutters, running a hand through his hair. âheâs like that sometimes, really means no harm.â
he is like what? possessive over someone he just met.
âitâs okay⊠it happens to everyone that a parent interrupts something at a not-so-right moment,â you mumble some vague agreement, but your thoughts are nowhere near minhoâs dadâs intensity. theyâre stuck on the way he looked at you just now, eyes that held love or lust, maybe both. you are too scared to analyse his motives and demeanour, like he already knew what you both were about to do.
minho doesnât give you much time to think about it. his hand cups your face, and he kisses you again. deeper this time, a little desperate, relieved to have the house to himself. making you lie flat on your back on his soft mattress, lips never leaving yours, the soft tug of his fingers guiding you to relax and just enjoy the moment. youâre already breathless by the time his mouth trails along your throat, warm and wet, big hands sliding under your clothes to squeeze your skin. he knows you, knows what you like, especially when the little sounds you make when he touches you just right.
tilting your head back, eyes fluttering shut, letting him take you in a way heâs learned to. but even in the heat of it, when minho pulls you closer underneath him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers your nameâŠthereâs a ghost of another touch in your mind.
a man twenty years older, who had looked at you with something dangerously close to claiming you with only a few words, letting his eyes do most of the talking.Â
you shouldnât think about him, not while minho is all over you, pulling soft moans and gasps from you, making you feel so damn good with his slender hands and slim fingers, a mouth and a mind that worships you â but in the end, you do what you shouldnât.
wondering, if minho can make you fall apart like this⊠what would yunho feel like? how strong would his hands be on your hips? how different would his mouth sound when he says your name? how will he feel?
shivering and arching your back slightly, from thinking about yunho when his son goes down on you. guilt instead of pleasure, and he groans softly, spreading your legs and positioning himself between them. âyouâre just⊠perfect,â he whispers against your skin, completely unaware that your heartbeat is racing for an entirely different reason, or that you are imagining someone else instead.
your chest is still rising and falling, even if you are excellent at acting, masking discomfort or lack of arousal, you do try to come with mimicking sounds, breathing patterns, and find physical cues. you are faking your orgasm. itâs not manipulation; not everyone has strong physical contractions before orgasming.Â
itâs to avoid pressure, to end a session that isnât working, or because you feel self-conscious about how long itâs taking for him to make you cum with his tongue. yes, he is skilled, incredible even. if it were any other girl, she would probably want more and more, but... why are you like this? it's disgusting how in such a short time your brain, no, you yourself, decided to switch from minho to yunho. your world was spinning, and it wasn't because of the man between your legs, but because of the man who was consuming your every thought.
and what it would be like if he were the one to make you see stars instead.
dinner at the jeong household is usually lively, no matter what time they eat. in fact sometimes, when the dad is out with his friends and doesn't stay up that late, he always stops by his son's favorite dining place to buy food. both men have a lot to talk about, whether it was for work or university, there was always something to say or discuss. but tonight, thereâs a tension under the surface that only one of them recognises. that feeling of wanting to brag about something you've done, especially with such a beautiful girlâŠ
minho is eating happily, humming under his breath, still flushed from earlier and too lost in his thoughts to realise he looks like someone freshly and blissfully wrecked. and he didn't blush because the food was warm or slightly spicy, merely because he was still thinking about you. seeing and imagining you in a different light now, in a different pose, like a muse. beautiful inspiration, putting some kind of spell because he's simply fascinated by you.
yunho notices everything, from the way his sonâs lips tug upwards out of nowhere when eating his noodles, to not responding immediately when asked a question, since there was a delayed reaction of several seconds. lowering his chopsticks down slowly, asking casually:
âwhy didnât she stay for dinner?â
minho shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. âshe had other plans tonight with her friends. i drove her there to make sure she arrived safely.â
the older man just let out a hum, a soft and thoughtful sound, too neutral to be neutral. because he raised his son well when it came to manners and being a gentleman, he doesnât look up right away at the youngster as he takes another bite. instead, he chews and swallows, ready to ask yet another question like the good parent he is.
âso,â he says lightly, wondering if he should eat the kimchi or the tteokbokki, âyou and her⊠spending more time together lately?â
the question itself is subtle, perfectly phrased to sound like normal fatherly interest, when it isnât. itâs calculated and measured, designed to coax exactly what he wants out of minho. and minho, bless his sweet heart, falls right into it. he blushes as his face turns strawberry red; even his ears turn red, rubbing the back of his neck, and he smiles like an idiot in love.
âuh⊠yeah,â he admits sheepishly. âwe are a lot more, actually.â
yunho lifts his gaze to take a good look at his son. his expression is perfect, soft and supportive, that of a proud father who just wants to know if his kid is doing alright; it's completely normal to be concerned, especially if a woman appears in his life. his eyes are sharp, watching minhoâs every micro-expression, analysing and assessing.
âhappy to hear that, min,â he remarks with a warm smile, and minho brightens immediately at his fatherâs approval, âshe seems like a wonderful girl.â
âi know, right? she is just amazingâŠÂ honestly, i wish i had met her sooner.â
the older nods, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his arms. âso tell me more,â he urges, not demanding his son to spill everything, âwhat is it you like most about her?â he phrases it like curiosity, but it sounds like a coiled interest heâs trying very hard to restrain.
âoh manâ where do i even start? sheâs funny, dad. like⊠stupidly funny. i don't want to mention that she is extremely beautiful because that is a thing on its own. and she gets me, yâknow? not a lot of people do.â
âi see,â he murmurs. âshe must mean a lot to you, then.â
âyeah,â minho says softly, still with that lovesick expression on his face, âshe does.â
âand sheâs⊠comfortable here, i assume?â too casual and carefully disguised as fatherly caring.
âoh, totally,â minho states without thinking twice. ânot the first time she has been over, actually. if we donât count the time when we, changmin, hyunwoo and sarang used the place to get our mid-term project done. remember when you and uncle san went on that business trip so you could take photos in namhae? it was then that she said that your apartment feels like a second home.â
yunhoâs fingers tighten around his arm, just enough to betray a crack in his composure. so that's how it was, using the place while he was gone. but you were certainly in the presence of other people to do other things, it seems. yunho why are you getting irked.. as if you didn't do the same two decades ago?
âdid she now?â
minho doesnât notice the way his fatherâs eyes let go of that sparkle and wonder, as he keeps rambling so eagerly and proudly.
âshe keeps telling me youâre âintimidating but in a good way.â like⊠in a comforting way, i guess? i dunno, i think she respects you a lot, just like everybody else.â
respect, huh? yunhoâs lips curl, almost mockingly. if only minho knew the look you gave him earlierâŠrespect wasnât the word.
âhmm,â the father hums once again, lowering his gaze to look at the food and hiding the fact that, as much as he loved his son, he wanted to laugh at how naive he was sometimes. donât get him wrong, okay? it's just that if heâs going to do something with someone, and that something includes the word romance, then try not to include the word delusion in the mix. âthatâs good. glad to hear you have good people around you.â
minho beams, finally taking another bite of his rice, because he didnât want to talk anymore. yunho watches him and thinks about you, flushed and breathless on the edge of minhoâs bed. how your eyes were darting toward him earlier when you first saw each other. about how you avoided his gazeâŠand how your body reacted anyway. he doesnât let any of that touch his expression, and just simply says, with that same certainty of someone who has already decided their goal and how to achieve it.
âyou should invite her more often then.â
âreally?â
yunho nods slowly to totally convince his son that it's okay with him to that the two of you see each other, and that he approves of you. it's okay that his son is currently considered a competition, but you know what they say â keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
âyes, iâd like to get to know her better,â and he means to know you inside and out.
a week later, you are outside the jeongsâ apartment again, and a tiny part of you wishes you hadnât come at all. you can already feel his presence even if you donât know if he is home because minho hasnât told you, and you hope he doesnât jumpscare you like some ghost or a monster ready to feast upon yet another scared soul.
you knock politely, the door swings open, and there he is. the seven deadly sins reincarnated in a human body with a mind of its own. relaxed and all casual, wearing a simple black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, hair slightly mussed like he just woke from a nap. unfair to look that good, seriously, what is wrong with himâŠno, what is wrong with you? stop looking at him like he's a piece of meat, and even worse, because your eyes didn't know where to focus. on his face, his hands, or the fact that, damn it, he's wearing grey sweatpants.
stop staring at his face, stop staring at his throat, at the outline of his dâ okay, stop staring entirely.
âah,â he says with that low, warm voice, covering his mouth with his hand when a yawn escaped. so you woke him up from his nap, great, just great. âyouâre back.â
bowing your head slightly to show respect, hiding every thought he shouldnât know youâre having. it's only two in the afternoon, there's no need to start the torture so early, but alas, you walked alone and fell into the trap.
âgood afternoon, mister jeong.â he lifts a brow. did you sound rude? stiff? awkward? you have zero idea what tone came out of your mouth ten seconds ago, and now itâs too late to crawl into the ground. why the hell are you so stressed? it's just minho's father, you shouldn't be scared, or worried so much about what he thinks of you. because you actually don't know what he thinks, maybe you donât want to knowâŠor do you? so many questions are running in your head that you donât hear him speaking.
âi told you, sweetheart,â he says quietly, stepping aside to let you in, almost not wanting to make a remark to you or sound threatening; that's not his goal. he just wants you to feel comfortable, after all, you said this is like your second home, âyou can call me yunho.â
you swallow after hearing the nickname. itâs not that no one calls you by pet names or cute little nicknames, like the old lady in the supermarket, but it sounds so different coming from his mouth. âright⊠yunho.â his name sounds forced on your tongue, or maybe foreign, not used to calling your friendsâ parents by their name, and he notices the way you were a little hesitant to do so.
minho appears behind him, cheerful and oblivious, grabbing your bag and dragging you toward the living room, rambling about the project you came for. but yunhoâs eyes stay glued to you until you turn the corner in the hallway, watching you walk away like heâs memorising every step you take in his home, or should he say luring trap. there's a lot of work to do, and it's not just the chores.
now youâre sitting on the couch with your laptop open, waiting for minho to return from his room to get the books with the needed information. after you have been working for a few hours, you start to feel that subtle awareness crawling up your spine. you felt like spiderman with your spidey senses being activated the moment you sensed some kind of a warning threat.
yunho walks into the living room, a mug of coffee in hand. he doesnât announce himself, doesnât need to; itâs his home, he can go whenever he wants. but you still needed a place to study, so he didnât come into the room so as not to disturb you. he would mostly sit in the kitchen or his room, reading something or dealing with his photography work.
he sits in the armchair across from you, angled just enough that his knees point toward you, not the tv. completely resting, enjoying the peace and quiet that you brought when you visited. âworking hard?â he asks, sipping from his drink.
âtrying to.â you nod, too focused on looking at your screen to find the perfect images for the presentation. his gaze drifts from your laptop to your fingers resting on the keyboard, and to your exposed collarbone. a nice outfit, he thinks, a skirt with tights and a crop top, it's not something scandalous or revealing, but it leaves a little to his imagination.
âminho tends to slack when heâs comfortable,â he murmurs before pausing because that made you take a look at him. âand you make him very comfortable.â
âis that your way of saying iâm a bad influence?â
âno, if anything⊠youâre very good for him.â he chuckles, shaking his head at your question, maybe even an accusation, it seems it is. even so, heâs staring at you in a way that doesn't match his words.
âthen why do you look like you donât want me here?â
heat starting to sweep across his features before he masks it again. âdonât mistake restraint for dislike. youâre plenty welcome here, anytime and any day.â
your pulse speeds up because you don't know what to say in return. do you say thank you, next or just pretend that you are not clicking random apps on your laptop so you seem occupied. thereâs a long silence before he adds again:
âthough i do wonder⊠why you seem nervous around me?â
"i'm not nervous.â you try to sound indifferent, bored even, but he smirks at the way you play hard to get. a ghost of a smile that makes your stomach twist.Â
âno?â he leans back in the chair, like settling in for a show. stretching out, spreading his long legs casually in a way thatâs anything but that. âthen why wonât you look me in the eyes?âÂ
you force your gaze up to meet his, and immediately regret it. his eyes pin you in place, like heâs reading you, memorising every twitch and breath you couldnât take, undoing you without even touching you. he studies you openly, like he has every right, and even if you didnât want to let him do that, you still did.
âwhat do you think about,â he murmurs, a tone and intonation so teasing that the red lamp in your brain can't stop malfunctioning. âwhen i walk into a room?â
your mind goes blank. you blink at him, stunned that heâd actually say something like that out loud. you canât answer that; he knows you canât. he leans forward, setting his mug on the small glass table with a quiet clink, elbows rest against his knees, pulling him closer even if he is not directly next to you. voice dropping so low it feels like a warm breath dragging across your skin, edging and torturing you to finally crack.
âbecause i know,â he says, eyes fixed on your mouth before lifting to your eyes again, âit isnât the same thing you think about when minho walks in.â
your heart is going to burst at any given second from panic and shock. you open your mouth to say something, defend yourself in some sort, but footsteps echo down the hall. yunho stands immediately, mask sliding into place so seamlessly it makes you dizzy. minho walks back in, smiling while holding a bunch of text and notebooks in his hands.
âsorry, it took a long time to find it! iâ oh, hey dad.âÂ
yunho smiles, the perfect father again. the transformation makes him look like a completely different man. âi was just keeping her company,â he says jokingly alas, you know itâs no joke. âdonât keep her waiting, or someone might steal her away.â
you choke on absolutely nothing when minho plops onto the couch beside you, totally oblivious. but as yunho walks past, he pauses behind you, waiting for minho to get up again, even if it's just for a few seconds to be distracted, enough for you to hear the quiet, subtle whisper he hides behind a sip of coffee:Â
âwhen my son isnât homeâŠâ you froze, you couldn't move from the tension. ââŠyouâll ask me what you really want.â then he walks out of the room like nothing had happened, and youâre trying your very best not to pack your things and leave, not caring if you get a bad grade on this stupid project.
god, itâs starting to feel dangerous, like you started a game where you don't know how to play or what the rules are. and worse, you donât know if you want to save yourself anymore, or just wait until you reach the next level. there must be better rewards there, right? no matter how tough the challenges along the way will be, and regardless of the fact that the mastermind behind the game you started was yunho himself.
you worked all day, and by the time the project is wrapped up, it turned night. youâre packing your things when lightning cracks across the sky, and raindrops drop down the glass so hard it looks like the house is underwater. the storm rolls in like it was waiting for the exact moment you shouldnât leave. minho looks out, frowns, then turns to you with that worried look on his pretty face, like a cute little puppy ready to protect his owner. âno way iâm letting you go out in that weather,â he urges, already getting up to make his position clear. âstay for the night, dad wonât mind.â
you hesitate, because you didn't want to stay, and it's not that he couldn't drive you to your place, but taking the risk and driving in weather like this was a suicide mission. trying to open your mouth to protest, youâre suddenly standing in the bathroom with an oversized shirt and some pants in your hands.
minhoâs shirt still smells freshly laundered, maybe not even worn for a long time, but you pull it on anyway, because you have no other choice since you didnât expect to have a sleepover at the predatorâs den.
a few minutes later, when you were ready and changed into your âpajamasâ, you find yourself walking toward the guest room minho set up for you. fingers tugging the hem of the shirt, considering itâs too big, falling mid-thigh, sleeves swallowing your hands, when you nearly run into him. standing by the door of the living room, turning off lights, but he freezes the second he sees you.
completely still, like the storm outside has nothing on the one in his heart. his gaze drops slowly, taking in your bare legs, the oversized shirt, the way it hangs off your shoulder just a little. he couldn't understand how someone could look so good in such ordinary clothes. did you know that this t-shirt was his? probably not, since he had given it to his son a long time ago as a gift. it wasn't even that special; the design that minho thought was cool was almost worn out, but itâs still sentimental to this day.
âyou lookâŠâ yunho starts, then stops, brown eyes never leaving the sight of your figure, and how domestic this all feels. ââŠcomfortable.â shrugging your shoulders, giving him that smile, the one heâs already learned to read too well. you step closer, until youâre close enough to feel the warmth of his body, the scent of the strong perfume on his skin.
âdo you mind that iâm staying here?â you tilt your head, letting your voice dip just a little, making you sound so innocent, and nice, almost sorry for trashing his home and privacy. his inhale isnât loud, but you hear it, and for a split second, you're the one who leaves him speechless. he looks at you like he could devour the question right out of your mouth, or devour you if you keep that little act going on.
âmind?â his voice is a rough whisper now. if anything, he should be thankful that it's raining dogs and cats outside because you donât get such a view and entertainment for free. âof course not, my dear.â he takes one slow step toward you, and your back is against the wall, his long arms caging you in, crowding your space without touching you, his eyes skimming your lips before snapping back to your eyes.
âbut you should be careful with that smile.â you blink up at him, pretending not to know exactly what he means, still with that defiant smile on your beautiful face. so far, so fake, he thinks. you're a good actress around minho, but not with him. he's already read the script, knowing what's going to happen, but it's up to you whether or not there's a culmination point, or the end is what you truly want.
âwhy?â
âbecause,â heâs murmuring, his breath brushing your cheek as he leans in just enough that the gap between you becomes something intimate. his gaze is lingering on your mouth, those sweet lips that will probably taste like honey, then going back to stare into your eyes with that determination of someone you shouldn't mess with, âyou donât look innocent in my clothes.âÂ
the way he said it gave you literal chills, because it's his t-shirt? and he only smirked when a flash of lightning illuminated the hallway, and he stepped back at the last second, enjoying your reaction, your willingness to resist your needs.Â
as minho calls your name, yunhoâs eyes flick to the cotton tee one more time as his expression resets instantly, to that calm and fatherly energy. as if he wasn't ready to kiss you here and now, while his son wasn't in his room or wherever. this is going to sound cruel, even insensitive, but in this play, minho is just a pawn, a secondary character who contributed to nothing but his own doom.
âyou should get some rest, big day of studying tomorrow,â just before he turns away to go to his room, he adds so quietly you almost think you imagined it. ââŠsweet dreams, sweetheart.â
you donât know if itâs a promise disguised as politeness, or a boundary disguised as permission. maybe itâs a line that he has now placed directly at your feet, waiting to see if youâll step over it⊠but what you didn't know was that you were almost at the finish line.
you can't sleep, can't even relax with all the tossing and turning, trying to doze off for a little while, but you really canât. you just opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling, breathing a little heavy because you were angry about something, irritated, perhaps a little disappointed. running a hand over your face, which smoothly flowed down your body, over the t-shirt until it reached your shorts, and you pressed your legs together, rubbing them.
what a sinner you are, and what a temptation he is.
it wasn't that you couldn't satisfy yourself, even though you weren't really in the mood for it, but the hormones inside you wouldn't stop raging. and it would be a bit impudent to do something like that in someone else's home, because how will you explain why the sheets are stained? yeah, you won't take any chances. maybe you'll just get up to drink some water, or even splash a bit on your face to wash those filthy thoughts away.
thunder rolls somewhere in the distance, softer now, which means the storm is starting to pass. you expect the kitchen to be dark, for you to be alone, maybe steal something sweet from the fridge, except someone had already occupied the place before you.
the air in the kitchen smells like rain andâŠsmoke? itâs definitely cigarette smoke, even though the window is still cracked open, the scent lingers filling your nostrils.
you tell yourself that you didnât just catch a glimpse of yunhoâs silhouette framed by moonlight, shoulders broad, one hand resting against the window frame as the other flicked something subtle and glowing out into the dark. a thin ribbon of smoke curls up in front of him, watching him exhale slow and steady into the night like a man hiding a habit heâs not willing to explain. it's kinda hot.
you pretend to be blind and deaf, but the second his voice strikes you, all that pretending snaps like a cheap wire put to mask the real trap ahead. he doesnât turn around; already knows youâre there the second your foot meets the tile.
âdid i wake you up, sweetheart?â
the pet name hits first, then the tone. itâs so soft, polite, you can catch the raspiness of the sleep, which he paused for this. you didn't know he smoked; youâve been here so much, and you've never seen lighters or cigarette packs before. minho never mentioned it, because he doesnât smoke. youâve never smelled it in his car, his clothes, anywhere, until now.
you freeze halfway to the sink, about to quietly back away and mind your business, pretend you saw nothing. he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the balcony ledge, hidden from no one and appearing out of nowhere, closing the window in the process.
âiâm sorry if the squeaking door woke you,â he adds, footsteps approaching at a lazy, unhurried pace, but you heard him sit down on one of the chairs at the table because the wood scratched the floor slightly. âit drives minho crazy, but heâs used to it by now.â
no door squeaked; you heard absolutely nothing.
instead you took a cup, ready to fill it, but you swallow your spit so painfully hard, gripping the glass a little tighter. âah, no⊠i just got thirsty, mr. jeong.â he doesnât answer immediately, and you can feel him right behind you now, even if he is sitting two meters away. you lift the glass to the faucet, letting the water run to cover the sound of your breathing.
a quiet hum coming from him, âmr. jeong,â he repeats, slower this time, tasting the words as they amuse him. âyou donât need to be that formal with me. didnât i tell you to call me yunho?â
your fingers tense around the glass, still, you donât turn. you know yourself too well. if you look at him like this in the middle of the night, voice dropping low, smoke still ghosting his breath, you wonât be able to hide anything.
âyes, right i umâ,â you mumble. âsorry, still getting used to it.â
âdonât be,â chuckling at your behaviour, and you can imagine the smirk on his face even if you donât see it. âitâs cute.â
the faucet shuts off; you realise you turned it off without thinking. hand trembled slightly, you were trying to breathe normally, not as if you were about to be given a death sentence. bringing the glass to your lips, you still donât turn around. you wanted to say something, to break this silence that wasn't awkward at all, but quite heated.
âdo you always smoke?â you ask, deflecting, merely testing while poking the beast with a stick. he notices, and he loves it. you are so sweet and gorgeous, he would really eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner if he could, or if there was no one else in the apartment. and you are even cuter when you pretend that you don't want it either.
âto be fair, no,â noting smoothly, playing with his fingers, but his eyes were digging holes in your back. âjust on nights when iâm⊠restless.â you canât tell if that was meant to sound suggestive or if youâre just hearing everything through a filter of tension.
âso, you and minho are getting along well?â
you blink at your water, throat suddenly dry even if you took a big sip, âof course⊠we care about each other.â
yunho leans forward, elbows on the table, and the faint kitchen light makes him look every bit the man minho might grow into one day, but never quite match.
âyouâre close with my son, and iâm glad for that. he looks happy around you, and that tells me a lot about you.â
it sounds genuine, and surprisingly, it is. of course, aside from the dirty thoughts about you, and the fact that you're the same age as the young man who sleeps peacefully and deeply in his room. one thing yunho is grateful for is that when his son falls asleep, he becomes like a bear in hibernation.
âlike what?â
the older man just smiles at your rhetorical question, because truthfully, what does he know about you? oh well, maybe the fact that minho hasn't stopped talking about you in the last two months since he's been here until the renovations are finished. the important question here is, what does he not know? and you'll be surprised how little he doesn't know about you.
âthat you give your attention very generouslyâŠâ his gaze flicks down your body and back up, subtly biting his lower lip. the way he looked at you⊠shame on you, not knowing what you're missing in your attempts to swallow your ego and the fact that you're such a good girl. ââŠbut only to the ones whoâve earned it.â
âand you think youâve earned it?â you fire back, a little provocative and teasing, but be careful what you say, and how you say it, because yunho is a person who remembers. he can always use your words against you, and you don't want to see that side of him so early.
âno, darling...perhaps not yet.â he chuckles, truly smitten by you, and you're nothing like his ex-wife. even though in some ways, minsoo was like that when she was young, but she didn't pull any tricks â showed him right away that she wanted him. but back then, it was different; there weren't such taboo things like the age difference, or the fact that the father liked his son's girl friend. and you and minho aren't together yet, so to some degree, even secretly, he can afford to do such things. âbut i know how to, so donât you worry your pretty little head about a thing.â
the glass nearly slips from your fingers, and you are still with your back to him, and you know itâs rude for you to stay like that, but you are not ready to give in yet. because if he knows how to gain your attention, let him work for it. the fact that you have some kind of attraction to him doesn't mean anything right now, because nothing but secret conversations and glances have happened so far.Â
and your problem is that you like to see how much redder the flag can get. even if he's going to sleep right now, leaving you to ponder alone about how you got into such a mess in the first place.
for the past three months, your attitude has changed. yunho notices how you dress a little nicer when you know he might be home. a short skirt or a dress, depending on the weather outside. sometimes itâs something soft and feminine, sometimes tight enough that it hugs every line of your body like youâre offering it to someone. minho thinks itâs for him, and of course, he does, with all the smiles and red cheeks while complimenting you shyly.
but yunho knows better; he knows who youâre actually dressing up for.
you avoid calling him by his name, because it sounds too domestic to just leave your lips, even if he tells you there's nothing to worry about, he won't eat you... or at least the plan is not to, as of now.
âthereâs nothing to be afraid of,â he tells you. âi donât bite.â itâs a lie, because he absolutely would, and you both know it.
you still remember the incident when you caught him smoking, and it left a core memory in your mind. hair messy, shirt slipping off his shoulder, cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers, you thought youâd forgotten how to breathe. the moment you went home the next morning and used every toy you owned, pathetic and angry, crying into your pillow because it wasnât him. trying to chase something that didn't felt even half as good as the fantasy you kept in your head. your body already chose him before your mind could catch up. you felt sorry for yourself, thinking that sleeping with someone's father was going to be so hard, but at the same time so easy.
you get turned on just by hearing his voice. when yunho cooks dinner in front of you and minho, itâs torture. the way he dices vegetables with those big hands⊠hands that could do much, much worse things. the low hum in his chest when he tastes something heâs made. the soft grin he gives you whenever minho isnât looking. god, even the way he explains photography to you is sinful. he stands behind you, chest brushing your back, hand covering yours as he adjusts the lens. teaching you how to properly hold it so your photos come out better and more professional.
ânot like that, sweetheart. watch my fingers,â and you do watch too closely, because you wonder how his fingers will feel somewhere else.
and speaking of the camera â the photoshoot minho begged him to lend his camera for, the photos you immediately posted on instagram? your friend forgot to delete the ones that were a little too suggestive, the ones where your shirt slipped, where your lips looked parted and kiss-bitten.
good thing he didn't, otherwise how else would yunho have spent half the night jerking off quietly in his room, hand over his mouth, replaying those photos of you on the big computer screen? fuck, you look so hot at this specific angle and the pose you did⊠shit, shit, shit, he was about to come, imagining it was your hand not his, or maybe your mouth sucking him off, better one, milking him dry with your pretty cunt. he came with your name in his mouth.
and in between all that, there were moments, secret and filthy things that minho never noticed.
like when you are in a cramped spot, and yunhoâs hands find your waist. gentle and guiding, fingers tightening just slightly as he moves you aside, squeezing your hip, his thumb dragging lower than necessary. and he always leans in just enough for you to feel the bulge in his pants, to whisper filth against your ear.
âkeep wearing skirts like that, and i wonât be able to behave.â
you pretend to be annoyed, rolling your eyes, scoffing, pretending he means nothing. but you never move away, or push him off. heâs the golden-retriever type â loyal, friendly, a mood-maker. just like the dog, he is not suited to be left alone for long periods after getting attached. they follow and wait by the door when theyâve chosen someone.Â
sometimes you walk past each other in the hallway, and he presses a palm against the small of your back, fingers lingering with a warm touch. âmove, darling,â he murmurs behind you, thinking that one day youâre going to beg him to keep his hand right here.
not ready to give in yet? why not drop the act and admit youâre practically offering yourself at him?
like you donât lean back into his touch, as if you donât crave more. if he is a dog, then youâre the cat pretending not to care. brushing past him, all attitude and sharp claws, acting indifferent while your tail curls around his leg.
the push-and-pull between you lasts weeks, months even. he is playing the long game, and so are you. even with minho getting closer, subtly asking you out, you never give him a real answer. you never give him a chance to become your boyfriend.Â
yunho praises you for that, applauds you for how convincingly you act around minho, and how you dodge every attempt the boy makes to define what you two are.
âsmart girl,â he whispers one night at your nth visit, cigarette again between his lips as you sit prettily on that chair and observe him, while enjoying his company more than you should, âdonât let him have what isnât his.â
minho isnât pressuring you; heâs taking it slow, seeing you in a soft romantic light. he blushes when you touch him, gets shy when you praise him. he dreams of you in the way boys your age do, even if you don't believe that someone could be such a romantic. you feel stupid because he deserves someone else and not you.
yunho dreams of you in every way a man shouldnât dream of someone his son brings home.
and then there was that night. you and minho got drunk with friends and called yunho to pick you up. you were so wasted, clinging to his arm, as you slid into the passenger seat.
âthank you, minhoâs daddyâŠâ you sang softly, hiccuping and just being overly nice and clingy. minho didnât react because he was too drunk and lost in his own world to process your behavior. poor boy was on cloud 9, had to lie down in the backseat, and try not to spill everything he chugged and ate.
the older, however, nearly crashed the car. because when he carried you inside his apartment, you were all giggles and sleepy smiles. top sliding down, your breasts nearly spilling out, as your skirt rode up to reveal delicate lingerie, no, not panties. lingerie, as in sheer lace and pretty little bows. is that victoriaâs secret? you came prepared, didn't you?
you slept on the couch that night, and yunho didnât sleep at all when he helped minho get into his own bed. he stayed awake, watching your chest rise and fall, fighting every urge in his body, gripping the couch so hard he left crescent-shaped marks on the leather.
tucking a blanket over you, he tried not to look, but failed. you were just so... beautiful, calm in his presence for once, even with your eyes closed and your body relaxed. he steps back first, because he is good and disciplined, a man who sees straight through you. itâs enough to make your knees weak and pussy throb.
the way he looks at youâŠlike he wants to bend you over right here and then, like itâs taking effort not to, as if the only thing holding him back is the thin thread of responsibility. youâve spent months teasing him, tempting him, brushing your foot against the fire, but never stepping into the flame, and honestly, he had enough.
because one weekend of you sleeping over again, you get too bold when minho leaves with a cheerful, âiâll be back in fifteen minutes!â as he goes to the store to grab snacks and your favorite drink for tonightâs movie night. you wave sweetly, watch the door shut, and listen to the lock click.
you shouldnât be alone with yunho dressed like this, but thatâs the entire point. sitting on the arm of the couch instead of the cushion, and he sits in the armchair at the other end. maybe you like knowing heâs trying so hard to keep himself in check, that heâs practically canât hold it for longer when you wear shorts so tiny they barely qualify as fabric, that itâs basically an invitation. you donât look at him at first, that would be too obvious. instead, you adjust your tank top, tugging the strap just to let it snap back against your skin.
he knows you want attention, thatâs what brats do â they poke, push boundaries just to see the other party react in any way, harmless or not. except the way you poke him is by sliding your tongue over your teeth, slowly, then smiling sensually, challenging him.
thatâs when he looks up. his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, that signature move that always means one thing: he is not annoyed or flusteredâŠheâs mad. a muscle in his jaw twitches as he stands there, pretending heâs unaffected. you can tell heâs not with the way his gaze drags over your bare legs, the soft inhale he takes, the way his fingers tighten on his phone. heâs holding onto the last thread of self-control he has.
you did it. you made him look, feeling so proud and reckless as you stand there like youâre the one in control⊠but you arenât, never were.
âyouâre awfully confident today.â you can hear it in his voice that he's fed up, but you shrug one shoulder, pretending you havenât been waiting all week for a moment alone with him. you can't be here every day, even if you wanted to, but there was one problem, and it would be back in fifteen minutes. oh, what a villain you are. you play the role of the little mermaid, charming the prince minho is, but in reality, you are a siren, luring a pirate like yunho deep into the sea of unholiness.
âmaybe i just feel comfortable enough.â another lie spills past your lips, and you know he knows. no one in their right mind will dress like that when in the presence of someone's parents, or would talk and act as if theyâve never seen a man in their lives.
âfunny,â he points out, watching you, and you like it, âbecause you only dress like that when heâs gone.â
âcoincidence, no?â you raise your eyebrows, an innocent expression that hides every dirty little thought you've had so far. you shouldnât be smug, but you are. angling your legs a little more, showing off what he could give you, a bigger reaction, you are not satisfied yet. then your stupid mouth moves before your brain can catch up. âor maybeâŠâ you lean forward, smirking, âyouâre imagining it.â
thatâs the moment you push too far. the subtle change in his face, the way his eyebrows furrow, giving you that mocking i dare you look, or how his chest rises with a slow inhale when he sets his phone down.
âsay that again,â and thereâs nothing sweet about the way he says it. oh. you didnât expect him to actually call out your bluff. blinking up at him, lashes fluttering like youâre clueless, pretending you donât feel the heat between your legs.
âhm? i didnât say anything.â
he doesnât smile or play along. thatâs the stupid thing about you: keep tugging on the monsterâs tail because you like hearing it growl. because the little game you thought you were playing? he never participated.
âsweetheart,â voice dropping, turning into something that hits your spine like a shiver. he isnât asking. heâs demanding. âdonât make me ask twice.â
rolling your eyes because youâre a brat before anything else. your smirk almost slips, but youâre too stubborn to back down, wrapped up in your own fantasy of control. you never had the upper hand. that the little game you thought you were playing wasnât a game to him at all. the joker you thought you could play with was never in your hand, it was in his.
and now youâve cornered yourself with your own arrogance, alone with a man who looks at you like heâs two seconds away from teaching you exactly what happens to brats who forget their place, because youâre his to deal with. unfortunately fifteen minutes would not be enough for that.
you just need one more final push before you finally end up in his bed.
you barely finish saying hi before you realise you shouldnât have come alone, or when minho isnât here. yunho stands in the doorway, as if he were specifically waiting for the second youâd show up, and it was giving you the chills. you're back to square one again, because that security you had, even the advantage that he couldn't do anything to you in the presence of another person, was instantly gone.
âcome on in,â he says, voice already so kind, but at the same time so secretive, as if he had more to say but bit his tongue in the process. you step inside as he shuts the door. and when the lock clicks, your breath stops right in your lungs, so hard it almost hurts, making the anxiety rush through every vein and blood cell. his eyes havenât left you since you walked in, âminho said you forgot something.âÂ
âyeah, just my headphones and textbooks⊠iâll be quickââ
âslow down, darling, no need to hurryâŠâ his tone slices through your excuse like a thunderbolt that has already struck more than once, âhey, (name)...youâre shaking, is everything alright?â
you werenât shaking until now. the man steps closer, the kind of pace that tells you heâs been imagining this far longer than he should. and it was very stupid of him to ask such a question, to call you by such a name, but of course that's jeong yunho. he, whose patience has run thin, he whose emotions and needs are not met and satisfied, but only tested until the glass overflows to the point that it falls to the ground and breaks, with no way back. you will either pick up the pieces or walk on them; itâs completely your choice.
âyou keep coming back here,â murmuring, reaching past you for nothing in particular, just to force you to feel the warmth of him at your back. âand every time you do⊠you look like you want something from me.â
âi donâtââ
âdonât lie to me.â
goosebumps appear on your skin so fast you forget what you came to pick up. for the first time in your life, you were scared and under so much stress, because it happened... you were finally cornered, the troublemaker was finally going to get her punishment. remember, you did it to yourself. you wanted him more than anything, so why do you want to run away now? suddenly you won't be such a brat and provocateur, hmm? you didn't know whether to turn around or wait for him to do something, because you have no visibility; unfortunately, no pair of eyes at the back of your head.
he turns you around, though not fully. you gaze at his big, veiny hand that makes contact with your jaw, his finger under your chin, rotating your head, and the second you look up, meeting his face, you know youâre done for.
âdo you know how hard you make it to be a good man?â
he steps in, and the space between your bodies disappears. your lips part, but nothing comes out, not a single sound, as he tightened his grip slightly, holding you tightly, staring into your soul with those chocolate, but so dark eyes of his. they were swallowing you whole, drinking you in slowly, and his index finger touched your lower lip, so soft and tender and slightly moistened.
âyou walk in here in that little coat,â he whispers, like confessing sins directly onto your being, finally saying his confessions at the altar, âsmelling like my sonâs cologne, allowing yourself to do whatever you want, smiling like you donât know what those little stunts did to me all this timeâŠâ
you react exactly the way he expects you to, recklessly, by the way you scoff. you actually dare to scoff at him, mouth curling into that smug bratty grin that always spells trouble. âmaybe itâs all in your head,â too confident for your own good. âmaybe iâm not doing anything to you at all.â
âcareful.â the way his voice is barely contained makes your smile go wider. shrugging like youâre invincible but your free trial has already expired.Â
âwhy? you gonna do something about it?â
you shouldnât have said that. his tongue presses into the inside of his cheek again. simmering expression youâve seen enough times to know youâre in danger and too turned on to care. it's more fun to watch him struggle than to see him act immediately, and there's no hiding it; you liked seeing him act like that.
âyou little brat,â heâs not even angry anymore, just done. âyou really donât know when to stop, do you?â
you open your mouth to bark again, but his fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. your words die on your tongue, swallowed by the sudden heat spiralling in your lower stomach.
âyunhoâŠâ congratulations on saying his name for the first time without worrying about how it will sound, because it sounds exactly as he imagined it â pathetic and needy. itâs practically an invitation written in blood, sealed with a piece of your soul, smelling of your sweet perfume, and signed only with a print of dark red lipstick.
grabbing your waist with his other hand, fingers digging in, to remind you exactly how much stronger he is. how easily he could lift you, bend you, pin you. despite you being dressed up, not that it will matter what you wear, with the way your knees weaken, clothes are the most irrelevant thing at the moment. and then it hits you, heâs not holding back anymore.
âyou shouldnât have come alone⊠and if you think iâm letting you walk out untouched after everything youâve been doing to me. you are so wrong, darling.â
now that he has the chance, he is going to take advantage of being blessed by lady luck with a brat like you. he should teach you some manners, to be careful who you are talking to again. because you keep making the same mistake over and over again: you underestimate him.
he tilts your chin up, and his lips meet yours. itâs the kind of kiss that wipes every thought out of your head except that you need more. itâs not gentle or sweet. it holds the restraint, detonating all at once, so hungry and frustrated. he is such a good kisser, goodness, you gasp in his mouth, and he takes advantage immediately.
tongue pushing deep past your parted lips, swallowing the sound right from your throat. his other hand holds tight to your waist, then slides down, fingers curling around your hip, keeping you pinned in place. you canât even think of pulling away; he isnât letting you.
the kiss drags the air from your lungs, because yunho kisses like a man starved, like heâs been holding himself back for months, and the fireworks finally bursts. his tongue sweeps against yours again, forcing you to follow his pace. the dominance is clear as he angles your head just how he wants it.
you melt back against his chest, breath shaking, body softening under the pressure. anxiety fizzles out into something molten and helpless, something that makes your fingers take hold of his shirt just to stay upright. he smiles into the kiss because he feels you are finally giving in. his grip on your hip and chin tightens, as he deepens the kiss even more. lips hot, insistent, consuming you until thereâs no space left in your mind for anything but him.
âlook at you, desperate for me already,â he growls against your lips, that deep voice sending a full wave of vibrations through your system. âlet me ruin you properlyâŠso you stop wondering how iâd feel.â
the kiss doesnât end so much as it breaks with a thin, trembling line of breath left between your mouths when yunho finally pulls back. just enough that you can see the way his pupils dilate, the way he watches your lips like heâs deciding to bite them now or later.
leaning forward without thinking, chasing him, needing him. he catches your chin with two fingers, stopping you with an infuriating amount of control. âdonât pout,â he says softly, thumb brushing your lower lip. âiâm not going anywhere, just trying not to take you right here.â
your coat slips off your shoulder, and before you can adjust it, his hands are already there, sliding the fabric down your arms. he folds it so neatly and patiently, the exact opposite of how he just kissed you, putting it on the hangers, and then he takes your wrist.
âcome here.âÂ
you donât walk, you follow like a cat, ready for the treat she doesnât deserve. he leads you down the hallway. slender fingers warm and firm around yours, his steps slow enough that you can feel the anticipation pool between your legs. every time you glance up at him, he meets your eyes like he knows exactly what youâre imagining, exactly how badly you want it.
you barely register entering his bedroom, you only do realise when the backs of your knees touch the mattress, and you fall into a seated position, breath hitching at the sudden shift. yunho stands in front of you. tall figure, broad shoulders, a silhouette of long legs and a wide chest that makes the room feel smaller, even dangerous in a way youâve been craving for months. your eyes drift down without permissionâ
those damned grey pants again.
the ones that leave nothing to the imagination, and you know for a fact that you are already wet and oh so turned on. you stare, you shouldnât, you know you shouldnât, but you do. so far, nothing has stopped you from taking the apple from the garden of eden, and now you will finally taste it.
his low chuckle breaks your trance. âeyes up here, sweetheart.â you snap your gaze upward, too fast, heâs already smirking as if he caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. âyou really canât help yourself, can you?â his knees brush the edge of the bed until heâs towering above you, shadowing your whole body. he tilts your chin up again with a single finger, slow and coaxing, expecting you to look at him and only him.
âiâll give you what you need,â he promises, as his thumb strokes your cheek, and the gentleness only makes the heat worse. âand iâll take my time doing it.â
your thighs press together instinctively, and yunho knows how wound up you are after everything between you: months of flirting that escalated into this, months of you pushing and pulling, acting like you didnât know what your touches did to him. he knows your tells by now: the way your breath gets shallow, the way your thighs tense when he gets too close, the way your eyes flicker to his hands, or somewhere else on his body.
he cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. âyouâre too tense, sweetheart. breathe for me, yeah?â
you try, but he can see how your body reacts and feel your pulse quickening. his hand slides higher, fingertips pressing just enough to make your lips part. and then he pushes two fingers past your lips. you inhale sharply, as his fingers reach your throat, making you gag and choke, your eyes getting watery, but you still suck and lick because yĐŸu donât want to disappoint the only man who doesn't treat you like just some girl, someone still immature, or someone just to hook up with. he treats you seriously like a woman. doesn't fool around or gives you time to think, he immediately shows that he wants you, proves it, insists.
âi know you like this⊠donât pretend you donât.â his voice drops down, a little rougher and teasing, âopen wide.â
you do, as his fingers rest heavily on your tongue, tasting faintly of the skin just above his wrist. you hollow your cheeks around them instinctively, making him break his composure.
âthere you go,â he praises the way you take his fingers so well, and he doesnât want to even imagine how good you will take his cock in your mouth if the time demands so, but there will be plenty of meetings in the future to test that theory. âjust like that, see? nothing to worry about, when you are with me.â
he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a soft, wet drag that sends heat down your spine. those same fingers trail down your throat, over your clavicle, lower, until they find the hem of your tight shirt. he lifts it slowly, giving you time to stop him, knowing you wonât. the man peels the fabric from your body, lingerie underneath again, and then his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips; and did you mention that you are wearing a skirt? the one he goes crazy about because it's so short, and so easy for him to do anything as he pleases. thumbs brushing the band of your underwear⊠a demi-cup bra and string bikini, like a full set? you never seem to stop surprising him, even if you try to cover yourself with your arms.
âstill tense, huh? let me help, then.â you donât have time to answer when he bends a little, his hand slips between your legs, still over your laced panties, and he presses two fingers directly against your clit through the fabric.Â
âyunââ you jolt, ready to press your legs together by instinct, when a soft sound escapes your lips that makes him smirk.
âi barely touched youâŠand you are already this wet for me.â his tone is soft, but his eyes are not, especially the way he pushes the lace aside, and you feel even more exposed. his fingers start moving in small circles, slow and steady, and you are trembling from the arousal he brings. already pressing into his touch, trying to muffle your sounds because heâs watching you too closely.
âdon't hide from me,â gently leaning in to kiss your inner thigh. âi want to see and hear everything you have been suppressing.â
by the time he pushes your skirt and underwear down, youâre dripping. he slides one finger with no teasing intentions, just giving you what he knows you need. moaning and gripping his shoulders, he adds a second finger, curling them deep, and you physically break from how good it feels. from how gentle yet rough he moves, making you squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip. your hips rock with his hand, the wet sounds are obscene, and you are already falling apart, and he hasnât even started yet.
âfuck⊠yunho its toââ
ârelax for me, iâve got you⊠such a good girl. bet you dreamed of my hands, imagining my fingers when you tried to satisfy yourself with yours, no?â his thumb finds your clit again, stroking slow, maddening circles, and youâre clenching around his fingers, when a wicked smile appears on his face after seeing how the praise hit you harder than his touch. youâre so lost in it that you donât notice that you are close, not until he withdraws his fingers entirely, leaving you empty and whining. you blink up at him, dazed, and the look in his eyes is different now. no more soft coaxing or patience, just pure obsession and lust.
he brings his fingers coated in your essence to his mouth and licks them with his tongue, getting a taste of you and, lord, does he wish he could get a proper sample because he has never tasted anything this sweet before. its simply fascinating that the flavor alone is making him hard. then he wipes himself across your inner thigh, spreading your slick deliberately on your flesh. âdo you have any idea, how long iâve waited for this?â
yunho pushes you back before you can even take a breath. your spine sinking into the mattress, as your body still trembles from the way he dragged you right up to the edge and left you hanging there, a denial that feels like punishment and reward all at once. your chest rises and falls too quickly; your hands grip the sheets because you donât know what else to do with them. you want more, and the pressure of being so close yet so far stings behind your eyes.
he sees that too, and has been careful enough to give you the same push-n-pull treatment you used on him; it's only fair, he thinks. âdarlingâŠâ voice amused, and almost scolding. he doesnât move toward you, just watches. so patiently but so cruel, like a predator waiting to see if the prey bolts or freezes. âyouâre really about to cry, arenât you?â
your lip wobbles â you hate that he points it out, and what you hate even more is how much you want him to fix it. he straightens, fingers drifting to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and the muscles in his stomach flex, the v-line, holy shit, his biceps, the veins on them... not to mention he's tall, physically bigger than you. fuck, fuck, fuck you are screwed, you couldnât possibly make it fit inside you at all, simply horrified at the thought, or because he never once breaks eye contact, not even when his hands move to his waistband.
youâre a mess on the bed, eyes wide, needing something you canât voice. his fingers tug the band of his grey sweatpants down his hips, and then he stops midway, when you actually giggle. not mocking, but disbelieving, like he is the funniest, most fascinating thing youâve ever seen. maybe someone will think you're crazy, you prove it yourself because who the hell would allow this? the young chick in the bed of the attractive dilf.
âwhatâs so funny, sweetheart?â he lifts a brow, head tilting, pushing your legs apart, settling between them. âalways teasing, acting like a damn brat.âÂ
your brain is too busy crashing against the reality of what youâve done to give him an answer. what youâve wanted, and been chasing for months with your stupid acts, flirtatious smiles, the accidental brushes of your hand against his arm.
this is the moment you were stupid enough to think about when you touched yourself at night, whispering his name into your pillow like a prayer. a wish to come true, now kneeling between your thighs when adrenaline spikes so hard your fingers tremble against the sheets. that makes you feel alive in a way nothing in your short twenty-something years has ever made you feel.
this shouldnât be happening. i canât believe heâs actually looking at me like that, you think. iâm insane for wanting him this much, but⊠he wants me too.
âyeah, thatâs what i thought. dumb little thing⊠you donât even understand what youâve started, do you?â
before you know it, he is naked, stroking himself nice and slow, letting the weight of his leaking cock rest against your soaked entrance. the position you are in, is this missionary? you donât even know anymore, too hazy to care about that. he supports himself on knees and thrusts into you with the help of his hands. driving you absolutely crazy by giving you just the tip. to warm you up and get you really wet, to prepare you for whatâs about to happen, so say goodbye to your lingerie and self-respect because you are never getting it back.
your nails dig into his arms, manicured with his favorite color, and would you look at that? how thoughtful of you to do this after he mentioned it once. snapping his hips forward just enough that the head slips in, stretching you around him. you choke on a moan, eyes half rolling to the back of your head because it fucking hurts, and itâs only the tip. he groans, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin, kissing and leaving love bites, worshipping you to the fullest.
and then he pushes in, slow at first, letting you feel him. youâre trembling, clinging, gasping his name, and heâs whispering praise and filth against your throat because you just feel incredible, better than anyone else he has slept with. even his ex-wife, with whom he created a family.
âshiâ ahh, you feel so fucking good, tight little thing⊠knew youâd be perfect for me.â he bottoms out with a low groan, wrapping one hand around your throat, squeezing, just holding and enjoying the control he has on and over you. how long has it been since he had sex? maybe a few months, or maybe since the day he first saw you, and he didn't want to admit it, but he fell in love, became obsessed with his sonâs pretty girl friend. âyou should see yourselfâŠtrying so hard to take it.â
his thumb strokes your jaw, his hips pull back, making you react strangely, unexpectedly, to some extent, with your moans and panting stopping for a millisecond, before he slams into you. the sudden brutality of it makes you cry out, back arching off the sheets, when the pace is unrestrained, months of frustration and want exploding into each thrust. the bed creaks, your breath stutters, and yunho watches your expression change every so often. truly smitten by how expressive someone can get. he doesnât mind; it just shows him that you are loving it just as much.
âyeah, cry for me, angelâŠâ hungry kisses again, low whispers and his deep voice making you dig your nails even harder into his arm so that it will definitely leave a mark. âyou made me wait this long, you can take a little more, canât you? so fucking good for me⊠haa~ shouldâve had you like this months ago.â
you nod helplessly, babbling his name, clenching around him so hard he almost loses the rhythm. he is not even all in, but shit does it feel good to actually have you in his bed, underneath, looking so pretty and ethereal, like a doll made of glass that only he knows how to take care of.
and despite being drunk-dazed, all you can think about is how â yunho is nothing like minho.
doesnât kiss lightly, or tease you just for fun. definitely doesnât make you feel like itâs a game, or that whatâs going to happen depends on you. because you can run in circles all you want with him, and you should admit that he has been careful not to cross any boundary or make you uncomfortable, although you were so tired of it. there was no point in lying to yourself; you're just not the right girl for him.
but minhoâs dad, on the other hand, moves every inch of your body like it belongs to him, more precisely, the moment he decides it does. every touch, kiss and bite, the murmurs in your ear are loaded with intent and control. a real man who knew where to touch, press and push your buttons until you give out.
your stomach twists at the comparison, considering minho had been fun, teasing, and experimental â and yes, heâd made you feel good. even if not going past the âlet me eat you outâ or âyou like my hands?â prompts that were all the same every time. problem is, heâd never demanded you, or been assertive, take complete control. maybe if he did, you wouldn't be that miserable and out of your mind to want his dad.
âyou didnât let him,â he whispered, kissing your neck and collarbone, one hand undoing your bra, more so tearing it down, cupping your breasts. and don't worry, he'll buy you a new one. actually, he doesn't spend money on anyone, unless it's to help minho with the car or the apartment, but that's it. he thinks you deserve to be spoiled a lot more. âand i know he hasnât⊠because if he did, you wouldnât have been here with me.â
itâs the raw and unfiltered possessiveness that makes you weak, and you did right by not letting minho sleep with you, because now yunho will get all of you. all you can do is gasp at the pleasure he offers you, as he hums, thumb brushing along your jaw, tilting your head to meet his gaze.
your body melts under the combination of his voice, piercing eyes and the knowledge that this isnât casual for him. and as he lowers his lips to yours again, stealing your breath away⊠you know youâve crossed a line with no regrets. you donât realise youâre trembling until yunho holds your hips still, wrapping your legs around his waist for him to proceed deeper, with the confidence of a man who has done this before.
âbreathe. youâre tightening up.â
great heavens, you try, but your breath stutters the second he presses forward, not even all the way, just enough to make your hands claw at his shoulders. itâs too much, more so, heâs too much. your eyes burn, throat catches, heat and pressure flooding through you so sharply it feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your ribs.
ây-yunhoââ his name collapses into a choked sob as the stretch hits, overwhelming and unfamiliar, a sensation youâve never felt with anyone. no matter how nice it is, and to really show him that you enjoy it and want it even when it hurts. he freezes instantly. not pulling away, or pushing in. just stopped moving, holding you right there, his breath unsteady against your cheek.
âbaby? hey, you still with me?â thumb brushing the tears you didnât even realise spilt. âwe go slow now, okay? donât want to hurt you.â you nod, but another sound slips out. a broken and soft moan, embarrassing to the point when it happens:
you start to cry.
it's not something dramatic or loud like a child's whining. it's enough to make his eyes widen because he expected you to cry, it's a normal part of the process; however, not to make you tremble like a kitten that just opened its eyes to see what the world is like. just those quiet, involuntary tears, reacting to something new, and huge, that hurts in a way thatâs almost⊠beautiful. your forehead drops to his shoulder, muffling a whimper against his skin, when your fingers go to his hair and play with it so you can calm down somehow.
âdarling, itâs okay⊠iâm here, okay?â your fingers curl tighter in his hair, already tired when you havenât even climaxed yet, you donât know if you can do it, too scared to proceed any further.
âitâs⊠itâs tooââ
âno.â his voice comes low and stern, warm breath brushing your ear, immediately denying what you were going to say, because you're not a woman who gives up so easily, he wouldn't allow it when you're so close to the finish line. âitâs not too much.â
he waits until you take a breath again. once, twice, until the shaky third time. then he nudges you down a little bit more to his length, slowly and carefully, when you let out a silent scream and just hug him for support, bringing him closer.
âeasy, baby,â he coaxes, talking to you in that soft-spoken and kind tone, reassuring you that everything is okay. most importantly, that you are okay, and you can do it. âyouâre doing so well for me.â every inch he guides you down feels like another truth reveals itself, and that's it: you take it so damn deep, not even realising how perfect you are for him. your tears wonât stop from feeling overwhelmed, stretched, completely claimed by him, and the way your body is learning the shape of him.Â
âyouâre mine,â voice wrecked, so raspy too, making you rock against him as if wanting to take him by yourself. âyou know that now, donât you?â
your excuse to make a bad decision, bodies getting close under the lights. youâve got this familiar feeling, like youâve known him your wholĐ” life. your voice breaks into another plea instead, so needy and desperate, as he clutches your hips.
thatâs what he wanted, not to make you be in pain or to struggle, but somehow loosen up. his mouth finds yours, going in for a soft kiss. while you melt against him, helpless, letting him guide you through the overwhelming stretch inch by inch. that little gasp you just let that isnât anguish anymore but something your body canât hide, no matter how much you deny it.
he feels the change before you do. his back and arms are probably red from all the digging and scratching, and when your hips push into him, even as tears cling to your lashes. your cries stop sounding scared and start sounding pleasant. pulling back just enough to see your face and how flushed you are with wet cheeks and lipsâŠsomething in him snaps, whereas he is the one who gets you to see you like this, completely at his mercy, and so so ruined.
âmy pretty girl⊠finally giving in.â
your lips part, a sound cracking out of you, a plea and a moan, and thatâs when he moves. slow sweetness turns into a rhythm that steals your breath, and your hands donât know what to do or where to hold. your sobbed, âplease⊠yunho, iââ turns into something needy, breathy, and immediately addicting.
âoh, you canât say my name like that,â groaning, head dropping to your shoulder. âdarling, you have no idea what that does to me.â his pace picks up, tho not brutally, because he doesnât want to kill you. itâs gentle, but quick, like heâs been waiting to finally have permission. with one hand, he pins your hands above while the other holds your waist. your voice climbs without you meaning to, every sound spilling out high and helpless, and he bites back a curse.
âbabyâŠâ his tone wrecks you. âyouâre shaking so much. you want it bad, hmm?â you swallow hard, nodding underneath him because your mouth wonât work properly.
âno.â he lets go of your pinned wrists; his hand coming under your chin, guiding your eyes up to his. heaven is in your stare, not gonna take you there, you should read between the lines, heâs a devil in disguise, he knows how this works. âno nodding⊠want to hear you say it.â
âyâyes⊠pleaseâŠâ
âmy sweet, needy little doll,â your tears spill again, but now theyâre from the pleasure hitting too fast, and deep. youâre overwhelmed but craving, every sound you make begging for more, even when you donât form the words. he murmurs, kissing the corner of your wet lips. âcrying like youâre ruined already⊠but your bodyâs begging me for more.â
you want it rough, he can feel it. he thinks you're doing more than well with this new endeavour, taking on something big. you're a good girl, you'll handle it, gasping loudly, as he growls softly in your ear.
âsay it.â
âyunhoâ p-please⊠donât stopââ
âyeah, i know what you into⊠baby, got a type.â he sets a new pace, so harsh that it makes your legs tremble, youâre practically clinging to him for dear life, every breath a moan of his name. a drama awakens as you are drawn to each other, like deja vu, it becomes clear, reality and ideal.
âtake it, yeah? take all of it, let me hear you beg for it.â you canât stop taking him, his head pushing so deep into your velvety walls. it seems to be working its way into all your organs, probably even imprinting itself on your stomach, a belly bludge. fuck, you donât know anymore, he can do anything to you⊠all you care about is getting to feel him, no matter how. every sob turns into a plea, every broken moan turns into a scream of his name, that just makes him go rougher, hunger bleeding through each slam.
yunho kisses the tear tracks on your cheek, voice breaking with how badly he wants you. âmy sweet angel, youâre so beautiful like thisâŠso messy and loud for me, yeah, ahhâ â
your head drops back, a helpless sound ripping out of you, and he swallows it with a kiss that feels like a dream come true. heâs going to ruin you, and youâre going to thank him for it. he whispers against your lips. the pleasure surges, swallowing the last of the pain, and your voice spills out shameless and desperate.
his smile is pure sin when he hears you preach like that. you donât know if he is a fallen angel or the devil himself. he feels it the second your body tightens around him, that involuntary, shaking pull that makes his breath hitch against your throat. his hands clamp harder on your waist like heâs trying to steady himself, but his voice gives him away.
âdamn, princessâŠyouâre squeezing me so tight i can barelyââ he cuts himself off with a groan that vibrates against your skin. you scream, but he shushes it with a hungry kiss, saliva mixing, wet and sloppy sounds as he pounds into your cunt. you were so wet and aroused that you made everything easier for him.
âdoing so good for me⊠yeah? thatâs it, princess, keep goingâŠâ trying to answer something like yes, or i canât, but only his name spills out. you've never fucked like this in your life, or rather, no one has fucked you like this. so much passion, and so many strong emotions, some still hidden, but they will show up in time. it still felt like he was literally touching your soul; you can't anymore, you'd go crazy if you have to do this all day long.
âthatâs all you can say now? my name?â he teases you as your fingers tremble against his chest, and you choke out another, âmm, yunhoâŠâ
you do not even mean to say his name again, and again. the sound of it knocks something loose in him; the restraint he held onto snaps in the most blissful way. his breath turns harsh, his hold strengthens, and he starts to curse at the sensation.
âfuck, sweetheart⊠goddamnit, youâre gonna make me lose it for real,â he buries his face in your neck for a second, pulling you closer until itâs hard to breathe. but then he moves again, with hard thrusts that make your eyes roll to the back of your head. your voice jumps, too loud, and slightly higher, and then his face is millimetres from yours, guiding your mouth to his. âshhh, angel⊠let me hear you, but let me taste you too.â
your moan melts into his mouth, and he swallows it, kissing you harder like he wants to savour how ruined you sound. then he pulls back just enough to see your face, and how the little mascara you had put on stained your cheeks with a light shade of black.
you can barely breathe, let alone speak, but he strokes your cheek with his thumb, tenderly cleaning the faint stains even as his pace pushes you closer to the limit you swore you couldnât reach again.
âremember a few minutes ago?â he whispers, lips brushing yours again, âwhen you said you couldnât take it?â a tiny, helpless whimper comes from you, and he presses a kiss that builds up anticipation rather than stimulation. because look at you, taking all of him, feeling so good, more than amazing, and you are so beautiful, magnificent, with such a pretty face and body. a personality that he can easily read like an open book, doesn't need the resume, he just looks at you and knows what it's going to be about.
another sob of pleasure, as he groans if the sound physically hits him. your thighs tremble, your hands clutch at him helplessly, and he leans in, kissing along your jaw, your cheek, your neck, everywhere your skin burns for him. he knows exactly what heâs doing. needy moans tear out of you, and he kisses your lips again to quiet the sound.
you canât form words anymore. every attempt just collapses into: yunho or please, in a voice that barely holds together. he loves it so much, the way you just give in, the effect and control he has over you just feeds his ego so cruelly. brushing his nose against your skin, flawless and thin, but your apologies are only selfish with vain intent.
âhold on for me a little longer, yeah? iâm not done with you yet.â he canât stop kissing you, it's like a drug, so addicting and intoxicating. knowing that he is the one to have you like this, to scream like you saw the phantom of opera, and when you shake your head instantly, or maybe your body just moves on instinct, but itâs enough to make him shudder. he pushes you just a little further on purpose, knowing exactly how far you can go and how much more of his cock you can take. arching into him like youâre breaking and begging at the same time.
ânngh, thatâsâthatâs it, sweetheart,â praises left and right, because he shouldnât be mean to you, despite you deserving it. no, no, yunho is not that evil. maybe he wanted to call you a slut, maybe you knew deep down that you were one. even though you didn't go from man to man, but the way you treated him, the provocation you created was enough for that word to be defined by your name. âyouâre doing so damn well.â
a kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw. a final one to your lips, that were so red and swollen. you donât even realise whatâs happening until your whole body locks up. not from fear, or pain, but from something so sudden it steals the breath right out of your lungs, crashes into you like a wave you didnât see coming. acrylic nails dig helplessly into him, a choked sound tearing from your throat as everything inside you tightens too fast for you to react.
âohâ sweetheartâŠâ yunho feels the way you are going to climax soon. âthatâs it⊠come for me, yeah?â your vision blurs. youâre close, so close, and he knows by the way his hand slides to your clit, rubbing circles that match the brutal pace of his hips. your entire body shivers, thighs shaking, stomach cinching tight as if something deep inside you is twisting and pulling you under.
âyunâ iâm.. please, iââ
he is guiding you through the storm, âbreathe, princess⊠iâve got you.â
it happened so suddenly, your juices spilling as he fucks you right into it, but more slowly. youâve never experienced something like this beforeâŠnever so real, intense, so impossible to hold onto. those intense feelings of pleasure hitting you so hard that the only thing you can do is say his name like it could stop you from creaming around his cock.Â
a deep pressure that makes you whine, you press a shaking hand to your lower belly on instinct, trying to make sense of the sensation, and is that him? is it so deep that you can feel it all the way there, that you can see it all the way there, stretching and pushing... your eyes widened in shock, as yunho catches your wrist gently, his breath hitching when he sees where your hand went. body is still fluttering with aftershocks, muscles tightening and releasing, like your nerves donât know how to stop. he cups your cheek, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his.
âsweet girlâŠwas that your first real one?â
you canât even answer, and tell him that yes, this was your first time cumming, not even faking a thing. you simply canât fake anything when the guy who fucks you just knows how to do it properly. your lips part, but nothing comes out except a shaky, overwhelmed sigh.
âof course it was~ no wonder youâre shaking and being so responsive.â the look that flashes across yunhoâs face is something simply catastrophic. pride, and awe, all tangled together. he was speechless, like falling into some kind of ecstasy. while your stomach is tightening at that foreign pressure, and he feels it too. your fingers clutch at him again, helpless, overstimulated and still riding the remnants of something too intense to name.
âprincess⊠if iâd known youâd fall apart for me like thatâŠâ he stops himself, breathing raggedly against your skin. he should have pleased you sooner if he knew you were going to react like this. his praise only makes your body flutter harder, and he quietly whimpers, brushing his lips down your throat. you have no idea what you just did to him.
his tone changes when you are still trying your very best to calm down and regain composure to continue, as if something in him snaps into place the moment he feels the way you cling to him, so tight, and needy.
âtell me something, sweetheart.â he slows down just enough that you feel every inch, every deliberate shift of his hips that drags another helpless sound from your throat. âdid he ever make you feel like that?â
you donât answer, not because youâre hiding anything, but because you physically canât. your vocal cords are nonexistent because the maximum words you can say are about five, and one of them is his name. that beautiful name belongs to the man who ruins you in the most beautiful way possible.
âdid he?â yunho hisses, so possessive and demanding, like he wants to hear the truth from you even if he knows better than anyone else that his son couldnât step up his game and please such a pretty and smart girl, who is a freak in the sheets. you probably will be, even though you're so submissive right now. youâre in a situation where he won't let you take the dominant position until you learn to take him all at once, or until you convince him enough to change his mind. you'd look so good on top of him, and he'd watch you struggle when you line up his tip to your soaked entrance, how those beautiful breasts will bounce once you start to jump like crazy.
he speeds up just enough that you can hear the skin slapping, making you arch your back like the cat you are. âdid minho ever have you shaking like this?â
no. minho never touched you like this; couldn't even make you orgasm. you had to pretend the whole time that you liked it, faking everything he made you feel. just so you could keep him close, so you could get your hands on his father.
a grown man who knows exactly what heâs doing and exactly how to take you apart.
satisfied growl vibrates against your neck as he speeds up again, his grip tightens at your waist. you are unbearably sensitive, and he groans when he feels how your body reacts, like youâre trying to pull him closer without even meaning to. too intense to hold back, a second orgasm is building too fast for you to even process it.
âoh? youâre close again?â his cock is practically abusing you, but not in a way that hurts, just making sure you get to feel everything he has to offer. âpretty little thing, can you do it for me? hmm, i know you can.â
and you do. again and again, until he imprints himself in you, so hard and deep that he can simply rearrange your dna. he praises you, every time you coat him with your juices â soft when youâre shaking, rough when youâre clinging to him, filthy when you beg.
by the time the seventh wave of pleasure hits you, youâre barely able to function. your thighs are trembling uncontrollably, vision is hazy, brain system is foggy. he slows down because he feels himself coming soon. tho, he is not stopping, just holding you in place, breathing hard against your throat as he fights for control.
âdoll, you tell meâŠwhere do you want it?â
your voice is muffled, broken from overstimulation, but your body answers for you. you tighten around him, hard, your whole body squeezing instinctively every time he thrusts in deeper. yunho groans, too honest for him to hide that he just canât contain what he feels for you.
âinside, huh?â his forehead drops to your shoulder, biting it in the process. he knew you were a freak, but not that much of a freak. âyou want me there?â
âyeah⊠pleaseâŠâ you whimper, clinging to him. you didn't want him to pull out; you didn't want to let him go even for a moment. all your thoughts were filled with only 'yunho, yunho, yunho, yunho'. he took over your every sense, all the thoughts you never thought possible, feelings you never felt. âpleaseâŠyunho, fill me up.â
you are going to kill him. he tries to breathe, tries to hold on just a second more, but heâs too close, powerless when you want him to finish inside, the way you say his name, because itâs the only thing you remember. slender fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you even closer, deeper, and then heâs gone. coming hard, gasping heavily in your ear as he fills you completely to the brim. the way you squeeze around him like youâre trying to keep him there forever. you make him want things that are against all laws, not to mention morals.
the moment he releases inside you, a strangled sob escapes you before you can stop it, your arms winding around his shoulders as if youâre trying to hold onto him, trembling, desperate, and clinging. your face presses into the crook of his neck, warm and wet against his skin as more tears slip free. yunho is suddenly taken aback, having his âbreaking the 4th wall momentâ. itâs been years since he felt this kind of connection. he seems almost surprised, keeping moving gently, riding out the last waves until he feels you tighten again, pulling him deeper, milking every drop from him without meaning to.
ânot knocking you up,â he murmurs, still breathless, still pressed against your skin. âno matter how good youâd look full of me.â
causing that kind of family drama, knocking up someone much younger than him? not happening.
âsweetheart, youâreâŠ.youâre still holding onto me.â his voice is hoarse, deep tone, with even deeper feelings gushing in his chest. your thighs quivering around him, overstimulated and helpless. he slides a hand up your spine, soothing you, trying to ground you as he coos against your hair. âokay. okay, baby, let it all out then.â
you try to breathe, but everything inside you is too full â your head, your heart, your cunt. the feeling of being so filled you canât separate where you end and he begins. the rush of it makes you dizzy, stuck on a feeling, and it's a crime how he is talking to you. and underneath the haze⊠guilt curls in your stomach as it has just been waiting to strike at the right moment.
yunho is still inside you when he realises somethingâs wrong.
âi donâtâ i shouldnât haveâ yunho?â regardless his name is the first thing you can say. his hand then comes up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there as he pulls you back just enough to see your face.
your eyes are wet and glassy. it was as if you had stars in your eyes, but he couldn't tell if they had fallen or if they were about to rise and shine brighter than the sun. he hates the guilt in them.
heâd been smug just moments ago, drunk on the feel of you, on how tight you were, on how you kept pulling him deeper as if your body were made to take him. the heat between you was enough to burn, his ears were red, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. you looked ruined, and he was proud of it, but his smirk faded instantly. he hates that anything about this moment is hurting you.
âbaby, no,â he murmurs, kissing a tear before it falls. his whole body softens, feeling you clench, not from lust, but from the aftermath of everything he pushed you through. âdonât do thatâŠheyââ
you try to inhale, but your lungs feel tight, and your heartbeat wonât calm.
âthereâs no going back now. whatâs done is done.â the way he says it isnât cruel. itâs almost sympathetic, the tone someone uses when they close a door for you so you donât have to look at it again. âyouâre not a horrible person, not even a bit. you are just confused and exhausted.â
you want to believe him, despite feeling the exact opposite. he kisses you before you can argue. the kind of kiss that is supposed to make you calm down and stop thinking. to stop fighting, and let yourself fall where heâs waiting for you with open arms.
your body still holds him inside, pulsing around him like it doesnât know how to release him yet. and he doesnât push, just stays there, his palms splayed over your waist, heat radiating from his skin into your bones.
when he finally pulls out slowly from you, and the loss of him burns. pain curling low as his cock slides free, followed by the warm spill of him dripping down your thighs. the sudden emptiness makes your legs tremble, makes your fingers curl weakly into his shoulders.
yunho watches your face the whole time. not your body, not the mess he made, but you.
âsweets,â his hands run down your shaking thighs, slow and soothing, thumbs tracing the tremor he caused. heâs too gentle, like he knows exactly how to make you feel at peace again. âthatâs enough for today. you donât need to worry about anything except resting now.â
he presses a kiss to your cheek, another to your temple, then a quick peck to your lips. each touch is convincing in a way that frightens you.
âiâm going to take care of you, because you did so well for me.â strong arms sliding beneath you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. your head falls against his shoulder, your body limp from everything he dragged out of you. âcome on, sweetheart. letâs get you cleaned up.â
steam still clings to your skin by the time yunho wraps a towel around your shoulders. your legs are jelly, maybe they donât even exist. wobbling every time you try to put weight on them, and he watches it happen with a smile that could kill anyone within a 10-meter radius. it was smug, but not egotistical. he just canât believe he gets to touch you at all.
â(name), just lean on me,â he murmurs, steadying your hips when your knees give up again. he helped you into the bath earlier, washing you with hands so gentle you almost cried again. then in the shower, his chest warm against your back, while he made sure every bit of you felt taken care of. not used or for you to feel dirty, but cherished and loved.
then, quietly, without judgment, he handed you a small packet with a pill inside. why he has them is another mystery to be left behind. âjust in case, sweetheart. i donât want you worrying.â because he should have been careful and put a condom, but he wonât tell you that he forgot to buy some, because well, he didnât expect that today of all days he was going to wreck you.
the tenderness in his eyes when you took it nearly knocked you out all over again. now, in the soft light of his room, he dresses you carefully, just like a doll. one of his old oversized shirts, worn and soft, then a pair of boxers he sheepishly admitted no longer fit him.
when you stand in front of him, swallowed by his clothes, eyes tired and swollen from crying, yunho just stares. like heâs falling in love in real time. he steps closer, hands cupping your cheeks. âyou look⊠beautiful,â itâs not the rough and demanding tone from earlier; itâs something sweet that makes the butterflies in your stomach spread their wings even wider and flutter everywhere, even reaching your heart and mind. âmy fuckinâ god, angel⊠donât do that to me.â
you donât know what to say, because it hits you all over again â you just slept with your friendâs father. someone you werenât supposed to want, and absolutely shouldnât have touched, or thought about this way.
âyunho⊠iâ i donât know how to feel.â
he steps behind you before the panic can rise, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. slowly, he begins to sway you side to side in a gentle, soothing rhythm you didnât expect from a man who ruined you an hour ago. his chin rests on your head when he opens his mouth.
âbaby, you feel overwhelmed. thatâs normalâŠâ he murmurs as his hands slide up and down your arms, calming the shake you didnât realise had returned. âyou think you did something unforgivable,â adding a soft kiss to your hair. âbut you didnât.â
you swallow hard, guilt and desire twisting inside you, because you are so torn, can't make an adequate decision, nor are you currently capable of thinking about anything more than the fact that the moment you fell for him, like an angel cast out of heaven, you knew there was no way you could get back up again.
âthis is⊠wrong,â you whisper. âit has to be.â
âmaybe it is, butâŠâ his arms tighten slowly, possessively. ââŠwe both know itâs not going to stop.â you panic again, breathing heavy, when his lips brush your shoulder, a soft, devastating kiss.
âand what happened today,â he continues, swaying you gently, still trying his best to convince you that you did nothing wrong. you are a human being, with a mind of its own, with needs that need to be satisfied every once in a while. that you are free to do anything you want, as long as it makes you happy. âthat wasnât just for us to relieve the pent-up tension, but you know that already.â
your throat tightens, since he is right. closing your eyes, leaning back against him despite the guilt curling in your stomach.
âdoll,â his hands slide to your hips, holding you delicately. he really wanted you to listen more to his words, because even though they were meant to reassure you, the truth was hidden in them. ââŠyouâre going to be my little secret.â
âthis wonât be the last time, will it?â you ask, feeling him kiss your face, entirely too intimate.
âno,â whispering into your skin, the softness of his voice at complete odds with the way heâs cornering your heart, âtho, you have a choice,â he says⊠and you can feel the lie in the way he holds you. but heâs swaying you gently, hugging you like heâs trying to soothe nerves heâs also responsible for sparking.
it isnât a choice; you have no say in that. heâs taking advantage of how off-balance and vulnerable you are currently⊠and you let him, since you havenât exactly been innocent either. your body melts back into him like youâve already decided.
warm lips brush the shell of your ear, smiling against your skin, âyou can walk away from this, and by doing so you walk away from me.â his hands slide over your stomach, âor⊠you can stay. let me take care of you, love you the way you deserve to be loved.â
your stop breathing for what seems like a minute, because the way he says it, so gentle, not forceful, almost sad and yet it hits you exactly where he wants it to.
three months ago, before you even realized what you were doing, youâd let minho get closer, let him open up to you, let him trust you, and youâd smiled sweetly every time he invited you over. every time he unknowingly walked you straight into temptation.
if he knew that you liked his father instead⊠maybe you should finally friendzone him, so whatever you had going on will stop. itâs pointless when it's one-sided, and besides, you don't want to date him, and you don't even want to say it⊠you don't want to cheat on him with his own father. that's why you never set the green light with him, friends with benefits, was it?, but nothing more.
yunho senses your spiral and cages you tighter against his chest, whispering, as you tilt your head just enough to meet his eyes, âweâll be careful, we have been so far, no? minho doesnât have to know anything, my son is not that great at taking hints or reading the room, so donât worry, alright?â
and thatâs how it begins.Â
the secret rendezvous â nights in his apartment when minho stays with his mom. afternoons where yunho pretends heâs just âworking from homeâ while youâre spread out on his couch and he devours your pussy with his mouth like itâs his last meal and day on planet earth. cockwarming him on his gaming chair as he edits some photos from work, and sometimes when you decide to be naughty and let your brat energy shine, he simply bends you over his desk to teach you some manners and not to interrupt him when he's working. trips he arranges through connections, quiet little escapes to seaside hotels and mountain cabins. the excuse you feed minho and your friends when you mention you canât hang out because you are going on a family vacation.
a game of hide-and-seek where the seeker is so heartbreakingly blind.
and you were so good at convincing your family to go there that it wouldn't be so suspicious. just you suggesting a new destination to enjoy the season, or if there is an occasion like your momâs birthday. she really enjoyed okinawa, and she was infinitely grateful to you for the surprise. plus, they know you have a job that pays well, but what you wouldn't tell them is that another person was giving you money and spoiling you rotten.
or that time when he was balls deep into you, and his ex-wife called him, and he had to pick up because she kept spamming his phone. maybe it was her 5th call, and for that, he apologised to you by telling you to be quiet, putting his hand over your mouth, as he continued to fuck you in slow thrusts. "yeah, minsoo? i'm a little busy right now, talking to a client⊠you know, booking photoshoots, gotta schedule a date.â then she said something that made his gaze flick toward you. âno,â he replied softly. âno oneâs with me.â
he was so mad after the conversation and the fact that she wouldn't stop talking, and he didn't really care about how minho needs a new laundry machine... and he just took it out on you, but you loved it when he was rough.
back in the present, itâs been a few months already and nothing has changed. yunho presses a kiss under your ear, down to your neck. âyou staying with me tonight?â his voice is hopeful, and a little too pleased. he knew there was no way you could refuse him, especially the way he made you melt, arms sliding around your waist fully, pulling you against him.
âyeah⊠i think so.â
even though everything is wrong, like you just committed a sin that cannot be unforgiven. you could be torn between two roads that you just can't decide, which one is leading you to hell or paradise? you still lean into him as youâve already chosen the path youâre going to walk on.
he is someone you could get addicted to in more ways than one. you didnât leave him, didnât run, fight, or try to fix what youâd helped unravel. you just let him hold you tighter until there was no room left to breathe without him.
yunho didnât apologise, or hesitate to make you his, even if your relationship is considered a riddle with no clear answer, a mystery with no evidence to follow. he just looked at you the same way he did the day it all began. with clear motives that he wonât back down, and chose you with a certainty that felt like fate, destined to be with you, and like a promise that felt like a threat.
in the end, you took it all away from me, you think, as he bites your lower lip. big hands already exploring your body that he knows like his own, making you want more. more than he has already given you. perfect, he is perfect at anything he does, and what he does best is love you, because he can make the impossible possible.
he took everything, and he made sure you didnât want it back.
thank you so much macie (@strhwa), for taking the time to do a beta read and be an editor. i love you so much, and i hope jongho is going to eat you out tonight ! xoxo
synopsis: in which jungwon gets too drunk, too honest, and far too handsy, and somewhere between the pulled-over car and the way he begs for you, everything you thought you knew starts to snap.
genre: best friends au
pairing: drunk best friend!jungwon x afab reader
warnings: drunk!jungwon, super handsy!jungwon, dub-con, pervy!jungwon, teasing, dirty talk, oral (f.rec), pussydrunk!jungwon, sub!jungwon? dom!reader? mutual masturbation (m and f), car sex (sorta), someoneâs watchingâŠ.
wc: 8.4k+
a/n: i needed a needy jungwon ficâŠ. also holy frick yall i havenât written smut in months and i feel like ive lost all my talent đ€Ź im not sure why i had so much difficulty writing this fic but ts better be fixed for next timeâŠanyways hope yall enjoy :3
â
you barely put the car in park before the front door of the house swings open like someone kicked it.
jungwon stumbles out, supported on each side by two of his friends, sunghoon and niki, grinning like he just saw god.
or, apparently, you.
"THERE she is," he says way too loudly, pointing at you with a wobbling hand. "that's my girl."
you choke. his friends choke. jungwon doesn't notice, to busy admiring your form as you slam your car door shut in mild frustration.
you had your whole night planned out, your room was cleaned, all class work completed, no responsibilities to uphold. you made dinner and planned to rot on your couch and binge watch a new series you had started till you inevitably passed out.
however, that plan was soon ruined when your phone blew up with messages and calls from sunghoon and niki who begged you to come pick up your childhood best friend, a very drunk jungwon.
you walk up the driveway, jaw tight, hoodie half-zipped, t-shirt (his) hanging off one shoulder, hair messy from being ripped out of the couches warm embrace.
you are not in the mood.
but jungwon? jungwon looks like he just found heaven wearing shorts and crocs.
he breaks free from his friends with the grace of a baby deer and practically lunges at you.
"woahâjungwonâ" you start, but he's already wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you against him like you might vanish.
his face buries into your neck instantly. not your shoulderâyour neck.
and he breathes. deep. your body shudders as you feel his warm breath fan across the sensitive area, knees trembling slightly as you position your hands to pull him away.
"fuck..." he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, "why do you smell this good? it's like... illegal. i should report you."
you blink. "you're actually insane."
he nuzzles closer. actually nuzzles. his nose drags from your jaw to the base of your neck like he's trying to memorize you by scent.
"you smell like... warm," he continues, drunk and poetic. "and sweet. and... fuck, i can't even explain it." another inhale, "you smell like i wanna bite you."
your knees almost give out. this was..new.
you grab his shoulders to steady him, but he freezes when your hands touch him. slowly, his fingers slide down your sides until they find your waist again.
his grip tightens.
"your skin is so soft," he says suddenly, like it's a crime you haven't been arrested for. he rubs a thumb against the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up. "right here... it's so warm. feels nice."
"jungwonâ" you hiss, glancing at his friends, who are watching with the expressions of people witnessing a car crash.
"what?" he lifts his head, blinking up at you all innocent and tipsy. "'m just appreciating. you're soft. it's distracting."
he leans in again, brushing his lips against your jaw by accident. or drunk aimlessness. you can't tell.
your breath catches.
jungwon smiles, slow and lazy. "i can feel your pulse. right here." his fingers tap your waist.
"you always get like this when i'm close. it's cute."
you shove him lightly because you're seconds from combusting. jungwon was always touchy, but his usual touch which was innocent was replaced by something much darker.
"get in the damn car."
"only if you keep touching me," he says, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest like you're claiming him. his heart is pounding in his chest, almost as if it was going to escape him.
"jesus," you mutter, trying to pull away.
he doesn't let you. of fucking course.
instead he laces your fingers together, squeezes once, and says, soft and drunk and devastating:
"i missed you tonight."
before you can respond, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yoursâactually presses it thereâand whispers, "your skin... your smell... you're making me crazy."
your heart is in your throat.
"jungwon," you murmur, "get in the car."
he grins like he won.
"okaaay," he sings, finally letting you guide him toward the passenger seatâbut not without trailing his fingers slowly down your arm the whole way. like he's memorizing the shape of you by touch.
"you feel pretty too," he mumbles, his eyes dragging across your face. "not just look. feel."
you open the door and he plops into the seat. you lean across him to buckle the belt.
mistake.
your hair brushes his cheek and he shivers. actually shivers.
his hands liftâslow, clumsyâand settle on your hips.
"don't do that," he whispers, voice suddenly rough. "don't get this close unless you want me to think things."
you freeze, breath caught, inches from his mouth and you can't help but let your eyes dart down.
"think what?" you whisper back before you can stop yourself.
he smirks. even drunk, the boy knows exactly what he's doing.
"things i shouldn't say unless you kiss me first."
your entire body lights on fire. you rip yourself away from him and slam the door closed as you begin to feel your face burning.
through the window, jungwon watches you with a dreamy smile, cheeks flushed, fingers tapping the spot on his chest where your hand had been.
the second the door shuts, jungwon sprawls back in the seat like he owns itâlike he owns you.
he's slouched comfortably, legs spread wide, hand already draped over the console like an invitation. or a trap.
"you drive slow when you're mad," he says as you pull out of the driveway. almost like he's studying you. like he enjoys it.
"i'm not mad," you lie. you were fuming. not only were you mad because your plans were thrown out the window, but now you had a cocky shit-faced bastard sitting in your passenger seat who wouldn't stop looking at you like you were his entire world.
"you're adorable when you lie," he counters immediately.
your jaw clenches, you shit your eyes momentarily to calm yourself down.
and that's when his hand finds your thigh.
not tentative. not testing. claiming.
his palm lands highâtoo highâand squeezes with purpose, fingers spreading over the soft inside of your leg like he's done this before in his head.
"jungwonâ"
"shhh," he says, leaning back, eyes half-lidded.
"your thigh feels good. let me enjoy it."
you inhale sharply.
he smirksâslow, knowing.
"see?" he murmurs. "i knew you'd sound like that."
his thumb drags up the inside of your thigh, higher, deliberate, slow enough to make you sweat but not enough to cross a line. he's hovering in the worst possible place.
"confident tonight, aren't you," you mutter.
"i'm always confident around you," he says simply. "i just pretend i'm not so i don't scare you."
your pulse stutters at his sudden confession.
his hand squeezes againâfirm, warm, the kind of grip that makes your breath hitch.
"eyes on the road," he adds, voice dropping.
"unless you want me to take over."
you almost choke. "take over what?"
jungwon laughsâlow, husky, intoxicated in the way men get when they're turned on and fearless.
"whatever you'll let me."
your grip on the wheel tightens. he notices, of course he notices.
"god, you're tense," he says softly, leaning closer until his breath ghosts over your cheek. "do i make you nervous?"
"no."
he grins. "another lie."
his thumb begins rubbing slow circles into your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you're warmest.
"stop messing with me, jungwon." you snap, the flush on your cheeks only getting darker.
"i'd rather mess with you than leave you alone," he murmurs. "you know how long i've wanted my hands here?"
your stomach drops at his words, swallowing harshly and controlling the urge to snap your head to the side to see his facial expression.
he tips his head, studying your reaction like a man savoring his favorite dessert.
"keep driving," he orders, voice low and wicked.
"i'm not done touching you."
you open your mouth to argueâbut his hand slides higher, fingers brushing the seam of your shorts.
your breath breaks. audibly.
jungwon smirks. "that's the sound i wanted."
"jungwon, seriouslyâ"
"relax," he says, squeezing onceâslow, firm, deliberate enough to send heat up your spine.
"if i wanted to really touch you, you'd know."
you swallow hard, whatever that means.
jungwon leans inâclose enough that his lips graze your ear when he speaks.
"you smell good," he whispers. "so fucking good. i noticed it the second you pulled up."
his nose trails down your jawânot touching, just close enough to burn.
"sweet," he says softly.
"warm." another inhale.
"like you'd taste even better."
you shiver and he feels it.
"yeah," he murmurs, voice dropping to something darker. "bet you taste unreal."
your thighs tense up, big mistake. jungwon notices instantly.
"ohhh... she liked that," he purrs. he squeezes again, fingers pressing in just right. "you're so obvious, baby."
you nearly jerk the wheel. "don't call me that."
"why?" he asks. "you clench up every time i say it. you like when i talk like that, right baby?"
you're sweating bullets at this point, wishing that you lived much closer so you could get out of this car. jungwon on the other hand, he's thriving.
"stop," you whisper.
"make me."
you look at him and he's staring right back, eyes blown, full mouth curved into the cockiest, laziest grin you've ever seen on him.
his voice drops to a whisper that ruins you: "pull over."
"no."
"pull over," he repeats, calmer, warmer, dead serious. "or i'm going to keep touching you until you do."
your breath catches. his hand on your thigh slides half an inch higherâbarely anything, but enough to make your heart slam against your ribs.
"last chance," he murmurs, his voice now hazy and clouded. "pull over, sweetheart."
and the way he says itâlow, confident, hungryâ
makes your whole body go hot.
your hands are tight on the steering wheel. ten and two. eyes glued on the road. jaw clenched.
you can do this. you can get him home. you can ignore the way he's been touching you for the last ten minutesâhis fingers drift higher on your thigh.
okay maybe you can't.
"jungwon," you say through a breath that's definitely not steady, "keep your hand still."
"my hand is where it is," he murmurs, sounding way too innocent for someone whose fingertips are now brushing the hem of your short sleep shorts.
"jungwon," you warn again.
he laughs softly and leans his head back against the seat, eyes sliding over to you with a lazy, drunk, confident smirk.
"you keep saying my name like that," he says, voice low, "i'm gonna think you like it."
your throat goes tight. you press your foot on the gas, just a little. just enough to get home faster.
but jungwon doesn't care about your plan. he drags his fingers up another inchâslow, deliberate, like he's giving you time to react.
you do. you choke on air.
"stop," you whisper.
"you don't sound like you want me to."Â you don't.
you squeeze the wheel. you try to focus on the street signs. you tell yourself you can hold it together for five more minutes.
his hand slides higher. higher and higher.
your hips jerk right when you feel his fingers graze your panty clad core and the car swerves. "fuckâ jungwon!"
he hums, pleased. "you're shaking."
"because youâ you're distracting meâ"
"good." he squeezes the inside of your thigh, firm, almost possessive. "then pay attention."
you feel heat pool low in your stomach. your heartbeat snaps into something fast and stupid. he's drunk but he's too confident, too controlled. his thumb strokes slow circles against the soft skin there, dangerous and knowing.
"jungwon, i swearâ"
"pull over."
you blink. "what?"
"pull over," he repeats, quieter this time, leaning in until his lips almost brush your cheek. "before i make you."
your breath stops. you're not even sure if he means with his touch or with your own reaction to it, but either wayâyou can't keep driving like this.
especially not when he drags his fingers up again, grazing the very edge of your inner thigh, so close it's practically illegal.
"jungwonâ"
"pull over, pretty girl."
your stomach drops. you pull over.
the car rolls to a shaky stop, and the second it's in park he exhales sharplyâlike he's been holding himself back, too.
"good," he murmurs, turning his head toward you slowly. "that's better."
"you're drunk," you manage, your mouth parting when you see how predatorial his expression had become.
"yeah," he agrees, leaning closer, voice dropping into something dark and warm, "but i still know what i want."
his hand moves again. purposeful. slow. claiming.
"and right now," he whispers, breath brushing your ear, "i want to touch you so fucking bad."
your entire body lights up. heat floods your face, your chest, your stomach. you can't move. can't breathe. can't think.
his mouth hovers right by your jaw.
"you don't even know," he murmurs, "how hard it's been all night saying how good you smell and not being able to actually taste you."
your pulse stutters.
he laughs, drunk and bold and sinfully confident.
"bet you taste even better."
the car is silent except for both of you breathing too hard. your hands are still on the wheel like you're afraid to move. jungwon's hand is still on your thigh like he owns it.
he looks at you. really looks. and then he shifts closer across the seat, slow like he's stalking you.
"come here," he murmurs, his legs spreading as if he was expecting you to climb over the console and situate yourself in his lap.
you freeze. "jungwonâ"
"i'm serious." he nods at you lazily, eyes hooded, pupils blown wide from alcohol and whatever the hell you're doing to him. "c'mere for a second."
your voice wavers. "why?"
he lets out a low, drunk laugh. "you know why."
his hand moves higher again, and your breath just stops.
"jungwon, don'tâ"
"i want a taste," he says, plain and shameless.
your stomach drops straight through the floor.
"whaâ what?"
he leans in until your noses almost touch. his breath is hot, alcohol-sweet, desperate.
"let me put my mouth on you. i can't promise i won't ever ask again but just this once" he whispers, eyes flicking down to your lips, then lowerâway lowerâbefore dragging back up again. "please."
your thighs clench involuntarily, and he notices.
his smirk is slow and devastating, you can see his eyes lingering.
"yeah," he murmurs, "you want it too."
you shake your head because you're supposed to, because someone has to be the adult. "you're drunkâ"
"i'm drunk," he agrees, "i'm not dead. i know exactly what i want."
his hand squeezes your thigh, harder this timeâenough to make your breath stutter. enough to make everything inside you tighten.
"let me taste you," he says again, softer, dirtier. "just once."
you swallow. hard, "y-you said you can't promise it'll be the only time..."
his eyes darken instantly.
"yeah," he admits, brushing his thumb along the inside of your thigh like he's mapping out exactly where he wants to put his mouth. "because if i get one taste?"
he leans in closer, lips ghosting your jaw, your cheek, your neckâhovering but not touching.
"...i'm not stopping."
your breath catches. his mouth gets dangerously close to your skin, and he whispers it againâmore desperate this time.
"please. lemme have you."
your body goes hot all the way through.
"i'll be good," he murmurs, already lowering his head like he's imagining the exact angle. "i'll make you feel so good, pretty. justâ just let me taste you."
your knees actually go weak even though you're sitting. you don't answer immediately, your mind racing as you finally realize what your oh-so innocent best friend was asking from you.
and jungwon noticesâhe fucking feels your hesitationâso he gets even bolder. he brings his free hand up, fingertips brushing under your chin, tilting your face toward him.
his voice is low, raspy, hungry. "say yes," he whispers. "please. i've been thinking about your body forever ."
your heart slams into your ribs. you're drowning. absolutely drowning.
and thenâjust to ruin you completelyâhe whispers the final blow against your cheek: "i swear, baby... you give me one taste and you won't walk straight tomorrow."
his words are still hanging in the air â you won't walk straight tomorrow â when you finally find your voice again.
barely.
"jungwon... no." you whisper it. weak. breathless. not convincing at all.
he hears the word, but he hears everything underneath it too. so he doesn't move. he just looks up at you from where he's leaning into your neck, eyes dark and glossy, mouth parted like he's two seconds from losing his mind.
"no?" he repeats softly.
you nod, almost as if you were convincing yourself more than him. "we're not doing this. you're drunk."
he presses his lips together in a slow, almost pouty line... then drags his hand up your thigh again like he's testing how much of that no is real.
"you're saying no..." he murmurs, fingers sliding higher, "but you're shaking so bad right now."
you grab his wristâfinally, some resistanceâbut your grip is nothing. he could move your hand whenever he wants.
he kind of likes that.
"stop," you say, but your voice cracks like a goddamn glass.
jungwon lifts his head. his eyes are hazy, heavy-lidded, but his expression is so intense it makes your stomach twist.
"don't push me away."
"jungâ"
he leans forward suddenly, forehead touching yours, breath warm and uneven against your lips.
"please don't push me away."
the shift in him almost knocks the air from your lungs. he's still drunk, still bold, but now there's this raw, aching need layered under every word.
"jungwon, you're not thinking straightâ"
"i'm thinking about you," he shoots back instantly, nearly desperate. "i'm thinking about how fucking good you smell. it's driving me insane."
your fingers loosen around his wrist without meaning to.
he notices. he always notices. he slides his hand higher. too high. hot against your inner thigh.
you gasp. "jungwonâ!"
that does it.
he groansâactually groansâlike the sound rips straight out of his chest.
"don't do that," he whispers, sounding almost pained. "don't say my name like that if you want me to stop."
you try to pull back, but he follows. his mouth chases your skin. his breath hits your jaw, your cheek, your neck. he still doesn't touch you with his lips... but he is so, so close it's torture.
"i said no," you manage.
"and i heard you," he murmurs, voice rough, "but god, baby... the way you're breathing right now? you're killing me."
your thighs squeeze together.
jungwon sees. jungwon reacts.
he lets out the quietest, filthiest little laughâlow, breathless, hungry.
"you're trying so hard to be good," he whispers, fingers pushing higher until he's a hair away from where you're burning. "but you want me. you want me."
"i don'tâ"
"yeah?" he cuts you off, tilting his head so his lips graze the shell of your ear without touching. "then why are you clenching your thighs like that?"
heat surges through you, molten and humiliating.
you shove at his chestânot hard, not enough to move him but just enough to pretend like you're resisting.
he catches your hand. interlaces his fingers with yours. holds it against his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is beating.
"don't push me away," he whispers again, voice cracking now. needier. "please. i've wanted you for so fucking long."
your breath stutters.
his other hand leaves your thigh for a momentâjust a momentâto grab your waist and pull you closer across the center console. not rough. not gentle. just drunk and desperate.
you land half on his lap, half in his arms.
his mouth falls open. his voice goes wrecked.
"fuck... you feel so good," he breathes, burying his face against your throat. "please, baby. please just let me taste you."
you swallow a moan. you actually swallow a moan.
he hears the sound anyway, muffled as it is and that's when jungwon truly loses it.
he fists the fabric of your shirt. pulls you in tighter, like he's afraid you'll evaporate if he loosens his grip.
his lips hover over your neckâtrembling, hungry, one second from crossing the line.
"i'm begging you," he whispers, voice raw. "just one taste. just one. i swear..."
he laughs weakly against your skin, breath shaky.
"...i swear i'll lose my fucking mind if you don't let me."
he tugs at you again and the moment you land fully on his lap, something in jungwon snaps. his hands grip at you, pushing you around till you're forced to straddle his lap. his hands fumble slightly, pressing the lever at the side of the seat so you were practically laying against him causing you to yelp in surprise.
you feel it. your breath catches as he presses his face to your neck againâonly this time, he doesn't stop at hovering.
he kisses you. soft at first. warm. barely-there. then deeper. slower. hungrier. a low, desperate sound rumbles out of himâalmost a whine, almost a groanâlike he's been holding this in for years and the dam finally cracked.
"jungâwonâ" your voice fractures, fingers clutching his shoulders.
but he's gone. completely gone.
he drags his mouth along your pulse point, lips open, breath shaking like he can't believe you're real. each kiss is wetter, hotter, more desperate than the last.
your whole body lights up.
"fuck..." he whispers against your skin, voice breaking. "you tasteâ you taste so good already, i can'tâ i can't stopâ"
your heart stutters.
his hands grip your waist, not exactly gentle, pulling you closer, pulling you into him like he's starving.
then his mouth opens widerâ his tongue grazes your neck.
you gasp, your eyes squeezing tight when you feel his thick bulge press into you in combination to his tongue laving at your neck.
he moans. outright moans into your skin, a needy, ruined sound that makes your legs weak even though you're sitting.
that's when you realize he's truly not stopping.
he's trembling. he's breathing too fast.
his eyes flutter open and they're glossy, blown wide, dark with something feral and desperate.
"jungwonâ stopâ" you stammer, pushing at his chest.
he doesn't even hear you.
he keeps kissing lower, toward your collarbone, his lips hot and messy and hungry.
"please," he whispers into your skin like he's praying. "please let meâ let me taste you properly..."
your thighs instinctively press together, a small groan escaping his mouth when he feels your core press into him.
he makes a broken sound, hands sliding from your waist back to your thighs.
"don't do that," he whines, fingers pressing into the soft inside of your thighs. "don't close themâ pleaseâ pleaseâ"
you push at him harder. "jungwon, stopâ we can'tâ you're drunkâ"
he lifts his head finally, but only to look at you, eyes shining, lips swollen from kissing your neck.
he looks wrecked. ruined. desperate in a way you've never seen.
"i'll be careful," he says, voice cracking. "i'll be so goodâ i swearâ just... just let me in."
his hand slides up your thigh again and you grab his wrist instantly, panting. he whinesâactually whines, the sound high and breathless.
"don't," he pleads, leaning forward as if he's chasing your mouth now. "please, don't stop meâ i've wanted you for so fucking longâ i can'tâ god, i can't think straightâ"
you try to shift off his lap, but he tightens his grip on your thigh, head dropping back into the crook of your neck like he's clinging to you.
"justâ just let me taste you," he whispers again, voice hoarse, completely gone. "i want you so badâ i need... i need your thighs open for me, pleaseâ"
your breath punches out of your lungs. you shove him one more timeâharder this timeâand you manage to pull yourself off his lap just enough to break his mouth away from your skin.
jungwon actually gasps.
he chases after you instinctively, fingers flexing like he's reaching for you without thinking.
his voice comes out broken.
"babyâ pleaseâ don'tâ"
you hold him back by the shoulders, panting, heart racing. he looks up at you with glassy eyes, flush high on his cheeks, chest rising and falling like he just ran miles.
"come back," he whispers, voice raw. "i'll begâ i'll fucking beg if you wantâ just come back. i just need one taste. one. pleaseâ pleaseâ i'm losing my fucking mindâ"
your stomach lurches. your thighs press tight again and jungwon notices, he feels it.
his head falls forward, forehead against your collarbone, breath shaking.
"please," he whispers one last time, voice crumbling. "just let me have you. i swear i'll be gentle. i swear i'll make it so good for you... just open your thighs for me, baby, i'm beggingâ"
you keep him at arm's length, palms against his shoulders, chest heaving, heart in your throat.
jungwon looks destroyed.
hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glassy and blown wide with something deeper than lustâsomething raw. something that's been living under his skin for a very long time.
his breath shudders as he tries to lean forward again, but you hold him there.
"jungwon," you whisper, "justâstop for a second."
he shakes his head instantly. violently. "i can't."
his voice splits open on the last word. "i can't stop. i can'tâ" he drags in a breath, shoulders trembling. "you don't understand what you're doing to me."
you swallow hard. "you're drunkâ"
"i'm drunk and i'm honest," he snaps, voice cracking. "i can't lie right now even if i wanted to."
you freeze and that hits harder than it should.
his hands liftâslow, shakingâand hover near your waist but don't grab. he's bracing himself on the seat, gripping the upholstery like he needs something to anchor him.
then he looks at you.
really looks.
"i've wanted you for so fucking long."
your breath catches. his chest rises sharply, like saying it hurt.
"you don't get it," he whispers, voice soft and rough and absolutely ruined. "you walk around looking soâ so soft. so pretty. so fucking... touchable."
your stomach flips.
"and you don't even realize it," he goes on, words tumbling out with no control now. "you don't know how crazy you make me."
your hands loosen on his shouldersâjust a little.
he sees. he swallows hard and keeps going.
"every time you sit next to me," he breathes, "i stare at your thighs and think about putting my mouth on them. every single time." heat shoots through you so fast you almost choke on it.
"jungwonâ"
"i know," he whispers, "i know i shouldn't say this. i know i'm drunk. but iâ i can't hold it in anymore."
his voice wavers. his eyes flick down your body for a split secondâslow enough to feel like a touch.
"you always look so fucking soft." his jaw tightens, breath shaking. "so perfect. so sweet."
your pulse stutters.
he laughs onceâquiet, broken, shameful. "i think about tasting you every night. how you would squeeze my head in-between your thighs and how they would shake and the noises you'd make." he's panting at this point, his eyes squeezing shut.
your knees actually go weak.
"don'tâ" you try, but the word falls apart halfway.
jungwon lifts a hand again, hesitates, then rests it gentlyâgentlyâon your knee. so different from the desperate grabbing earlier. softer. more honest.
"you have no clue what you do to me," he whispers. "i look at you and i justâ i want you. i want every part of you."
his eyes rise back to yours, glossy and bare and unguarded.
"i want the sounds you'd make," he breathes. "i want the way you'd taste on my tongue. i want your thighs around my head. i want all of it. i've wanted it for so fucking long."
your hands slip off his shoulders completely. you don't know when your breath left your lungs but it still hasn't come back.
jungwon bites his lip. hard. like he's trying to stop more from spilling out. but it doesn't work.
his voice drops to a whisper that hits you like a punch: "i don't just want your body."
you blink.
his words tremble. "i want you."
you feel your heart drop into your stomach.
"i watch you all the time," he says, voice unsteady. "the way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you get mad. fuckâ the way you walk into a room like you don't even know everyone looks at you."
your throat tightens.
"i look at you like you're mine," he admits, breath catching. "even though you're not. even though you probably never will be."
your chest actually hurts. his voice cracks completely: "i just... i want you so bad it makes me sick."
you stare at himâsoft hair falling in his eyes, cheeks flushed, lips parted, breathing too fast, hands trembling as he reaches for you again.
this time he manages to touch you. a shaky palm against your waist.
"baby," he whispers, sounding like he's breaking. "say something. please."
you open your mouth to say somethingâanythingâto ground him, but jungwon is already leaning back in, chasing your lips like he physically can't stop himself. his breath trembles against your skin, warm and desperate, and his fingers curl harder around your waist like he thinks you'll disappear if he loosens even a little.
"w-waitâjungwon, slow down, i'm trynaâ"
"don'tâ" he cuts you off on a ragged whisper, nose brushing your cheek as he tries to kiss you again. "don't pull away from me. please. justâjust let me have you."
his voice cracks. actually cracks.
his eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed that soft rose-pink that always gives him away. he looks ruined already, like you've been doing something to him instead of just sitting here trying to breathe.
"jungwon," you murmur, trying to steady him with a hand on his chest, "you're not thinking straightâ"
"i am," he insists, shaking his head, lips brushing yours because he can't stop leaning forward. "god, i am, i promiseâi've been thinking straight for months and it's always the same thing. you. you on top of me. you using me however you want."
your fingers twitch.
his eyes flick down, immediately catching the movement like a starving animal catching scent of food.
"see?" he whispers. "you want me too. i can feel it."
you try to speak but he's already going againâmouth grazing the corner of yours, breath shaky, almost panting because he's so wound up it's pathetic.
pathetic and so, so pretty.
his grip slides lower, fingers pressing into your hips, guiding you closer like instinct is taking over. "justâ just let me be good for you," he begs, voice cracking again. "you d-don't even need to do anything. you don't have to take care of me. justâ" his forehead drops to your jaw, hot, needy breath fanning your throat. "please use me."
you swallow. hard.
"jungwon..."
he makes a sound. a broken whine into your neck that makes your spine stiffen.
"i'll do anything," he says, voice thready, trembling, "anything you want. you can put me wherever you want me and i'll stay there. i'll listen. i'll be quietâ or i won't, if you like hearing me beg. i'll be whatever you want. just... don't tell me no right now."
your heart kicks painfully.
his arms wrap fully around your waist now, pulling you against him like he's bracing for impactâlike if you reject him he'll completely collapse.
"jungwon, you need to breatheâ"
"i don't need to breathe," he whispers, voice turning low, hungry, unhinged. "i just need you. i just want your thighs around my head, i want your voice in my ears, i wantâ"
"jungwon."
he freezes, but only for a heartbeat. then he lifts his head. he looks at you like you're oxygen and he's drowning. his lips part, his breathing shaky, pupils blown like he's seconds from losing the last bit of control he has.
"please," he whispers, leaning in again, mouth barely brushing yours, begging in every possible way a person can beg. "just let me taste you. let me be your mouth. i'll do everything. i'll be goodâso good for you, i swear."
his thumbs stroke your hips desperately.
"just say yes."
your breath stutters, just once, but it's enough.
jungwon feels it like a shockwave. his whole body tenses beneath your hands, head lifting from your neck, eyes snapping up to your face like he heard a door unlock.
"...what was that?" he whispers, voice low, raw, hopeful in a way that makes your stomach flip. "do it again. please."
you swallow, but it's loud in the quiet room. too loud.
"jungwon," you breathe, barely getting the word out, "you need to calm downâ"
"i can't," he cuts in, voice breaking. "not when you sound like that. not when you're this close. i've wanted you for so long iâ" he chokes on the rest, leaning in until his forehead presses into your cheek. "just tell me i'm not imagining this. tell me you want me too."
you try to pull back. big mistake.
he lets out a soundâsomewhere between a whimper and a groanâand his grip snaps tight around your waist, dragging you right back into his lap like he can't bear a centimeter between you.
"don't go," he pleads, breath shaking. "please don't go, don't do thatâi'll be good, i swear, i'llâi'll stay right here, i'll keep my hands where you want them, just don't pull away againâ"
"i wasn't leaving." your voice is barely a whisper.
jungwon freezes. absolutely still.
then his head lifts slowly, eyes glossy and blown wide as he searches your face like he's scared he misheard.
"...you weren't?" he breathes.
you shake your head once. and that's it.
whatever thin thread of control he had snaps.
a broken sound slips out of him as he surges up, kissing you againâmessier this time, hungrier, like he's trying to pour every bottled-up year of wanting into a single touch. his hands travel up your sides, hesitating only long enough to make sure you're not pulling away, before gripping the back of your shirt like he's terrified you'll disappear.
you gasp, fingers instinctively grabbing his shoulders for balance.
he feels it. he feels you holding onto him and it destroys him.
"please," he whispers into your mouth, hot and trembling. "justâsay it. say i can have you. say you'll let meâ" his breath catches, a shiver running through him as he presses his forehead to yours, "âlet me show you how good i can be for you."
your pulse kicks. your thighs tighten around his.
his eyes drop instantly, pupils dilating so hard they practically swallow the brown.
"god," he murmurs, "you're killing me."
he kisses you again, slower this time, more certain, one hand sliding to your waist with careful reverenceâas if he knows this is the final moment, the tipping point, the part where you either shove him away orâ
you take his jaw in your hand.
not rough. not gentle. just decisive.
jungwon's breath punches out of him. his eyes flutter, lips parting like he's about to beg again, but no sound comes out.
you look at him. really look at him.
flushed cheeks. swollen lips. eyes glassy with desperation. every inch of him trembling under your touch, waiting for permission like a prayer.
"jungwon..." you murmur, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, "you want me that bad?"
he nods so fast it's almost frantic.
"i'll do anything," he whispers. "anything you want. justâlet me. let me have you. let me be yours. tell me yes and i'llâ" his voice cracks again, "...i'll make you feel so good."
your chest rises. falls. slow. thenâyou lean in, brushing your lips against his ear.
"okay," you breathe.
jungwon goes completely still. then he shuddersâfull-body, uncontrollable, like he's been hit by lightning.
"o-okay?" he repeats, voice breaking, knees trembling beneath you.
"yes."
and just like thatâhe loses it.
his hands fly to your waist, his breath hits your neck, a desperate, wrecked sound escaping him as he finallyâfinallyâlets himself touch you the way he's always wanted.
you feel his mouth opening against your skin, right at the spot he's been dying to taste. his hands find themselves gripping at you feverishly, gripping your thighs, your waist, your butt.
"so good..s-so good," he almost murmurs to himself as begins to rock his hips, using his grip on your butt to push against him.
you couldn't help but let a whimper escape you when you feel the outline of him thrust against your clit, letting him move you around.
his grip on your butt is a vice. not rough, exactly, but firm, utterly non-negotiable. he pulls you in so tight you can feel the strained trembling of his muscles, crushing your slick core against the insistent, painful heat of his pants.
"oh god," he whimpers, the sound raw and shaky against your neck. he drags his mouth along your pulse point, leaving a wet trail. "you like that?" his voice is thick, full of drunken wonder and possessive triumph.
you try to answer, but the words are swallowed by a choked whimper. he groans, a needy, ruined sound, taking it as consent, and then he moves.
he doesn't bother with the console. he scrambles up, grabbing your hips, and pushes you over the barrier with reckless, sloppy urgency. you land in a trembling, messy heap across the drivers seat, your legs falling open, shorts pushed up and offering him everything.
he's not gentle. he just needs access.
jungwon is half-kneeling, half-sprawled over the console, his face right between your thighs. he looks absolutely destroyed: sweat beading on his temples, hair clinging to his forehead, his pupils wide and black.
"i knew it," he whispers, breath shaky and hot. he reaches out a trembling hand, his fingers spreading wide over your inner thigh, right near your heat.
his grip is firm, claiming, pressing in just enough to bruise later. "you're so warm right here. you're shaking, pretty girl."
he nudges your shorts crotch to the side with his nose, whimpering when the fabric resists, until your damp, exposed core is right in his line of sight.
"mine," he declares, the word a slurred, drunken promise.
he leans down, and you gasp as his tongue, thick and wet, sloops right over the thin, damp fabric of your underwear. he doesn't care about the fabric, he just needs the taste. it's messy, sloppy, and overwhelming.
"fuck, you taste so good," he hisses, pulling back an inch, his eyes dark and glazed. he looks absolutely starved. "sweet. like i knew you would be. i need to see it."
he fumbles at the waistband of your shorts, shoving them down hard until they bunch up around your knees. he's not careful. he just needs you bare.
he settles right between your thighs, pulling your knees wider with his needy hands. he takes a moment just to lookâhis eyes tracing the wetness, the flush, the vulnerable, beautiful mess you are.
"open your legs for me, sweetheart," he orders, his voice a raw, low rasp. he doesn't wait for you to comply, his hands squeeze your inner thighs, forcing you wide open. "i want to see how much i ruined you."
then he's there. his mouth clamps down, and the feeling is instant, consuming. his tongue is relentless, moving with a desperate, sloppy urgency that is entirely focused on your pleasure. he's not trying to be sophisticated, he's a drunk man finally tasting the obsession he's held for years.
you cry out loud, a sharp, uncontrolled sound that hits the ceiling of the car. he groans, a thick, muffled sound of pure satisfaction against your slick skin. his hands slide down, gripping the back of your thighs and squeezing, pulling you tighter onto his mouth, forcing your legs to tremble.
"say my name, baby," he begs, the words vibrating against your core as he licks harder, faster. "say you love how sloppy i am for you. i'm right here. i'm yours. you can use my mouth however you want. whenever you want."
he pushes deeper, his breath hot and uneven, panting in the short gaps between desperate licks. he's completely focused on driving you higher, his movements aggressive and needy.
"you're so wet," he whispers against your skin in disbelief, "you're soaking my mouth. i'm drinking you. god, you're making me so fucking messy."
you're trembling violently, your fingers digging into the seat, your hips involuntarily thrusting down onto him. he anchors you with his strong hands on your thighs, pushing you back up every time you try to pull away, forcing you to take his tongue.
he speeds up again, mercilessly, his tongue pushing, flicking, sucking with a rhythmic intensity that brings that familiar pit in your stomach to rise.
"just for me," he murmurs, his words barely audible over the loud, wet sounds he's making with his mouth full of pussy. "cum for me, pretty girl. i want to drown in you."
he gives you a final, deep, punishing drag, and you completely shatter. your back arches, your body going rigid as a shaking moan is torn from your throat.
he doesn't stop. he holds you there, letting you tremble against his mouth, his arms tight around your thighs, ensuring you feel every last ripple of the climax.
when you finally settle, panting and wrecked, he keeps his face buried in your lap for a long, heavy moment, simply tasting his victory.
he lifts his head. his mouth is wet, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with a feral mix of lust and possessive adoration. you almost came again at just the site of him.
he smilesâslow, lazy, utterly ruinedâand his fingers slide down, reaching for the waistband of his open jeans.
jungwon lifts his head, his face flushed and wet, his eyes shining with feverish anticipation. he's breathing hard, his lips swollen and glistening. the messiness of his desire is plastered all over him.
"you said yes," he whispers, voice thick and ragged. he lets out a pathetic little choke of anticipation. "what do you want? tell me. i'll do it right now."
his hands, still firm on your inner thighs, tighten as you look at him. he's exposed, kneeling between your spread legs, panting, completely at your mercy.
you lean forward, placing a hand on the back of his neck, running your fingers roughly through his damp hair. not knowing what was coming over you, you pull him closer.
jungwon instantly melts into the touch, a low, needy whine escaping his chest. he presses his face against the inside of your thigh, his breath shuddering.
"god," he mumbles into your skin. "that's it. you're touching me. don't stop."
you use the leverage on his hair to tilt his head, forcing him to look up at you again.
"you said i could use you," you whisper, the authority in your voice making his eyes widen. "i'm still wet, jungwon. and you're hard." your eyes dart down, his cock straining against his pants.
he swallows hard, his breath catching. "yeah. take it. take me."
he fumbles with the rest of his jeans, peeling them down just enough to expose the thick, rigid length straining against his boxers. he doesn't take his eyes off yours, searching for approval. he's so desperate for your gaze he can barely breathe.
"you're going to touch yourself," you say, your voice low and commanding.
jungwon freezes, a shock of confused, thrilled desperation hitting his face. "w-what? on your lap?"
you shake your head, using the hand still on his neck to push his head lower, his damp hair brushing against your inner thigh.
"no. you're gonna watch me. and you're going to obey."
he lets out a broken, pathetic sound, his whole body trembling. he's confused, aroused, and absolutely ruined by the instruction. "iâi can't look away. i won't."
"i'm not telling you to look away, im telling you to watch."
you press your hand down on the nape of his neck, demanding his stillness. you push yourself closer to him, now sharing the passenger seat with him as half of your body lays against the console while your legs over his lap.
his erection is now pressing firmly against his boxers, right near your hip, a hot, agonizing distraction.
you reach down and slide your hand down your aching core, fingers moving slowly and deliberately towards your still-sensitive cunt, making sure he sees every agonizing movement.
jungwon lets out a loud, strangled gasp. his eyes are fixed on your fingers, wide and glossy. he's panting, his lips parted, unable to move a muscle.
"do you like watching me, jungwon?" you ask, your voice soft and challenging.
he shakes his head violently, a deep, frustrated groan rumbling in his throat. "i hate it. i hate that i can only watch. pleaseâ"
you ignore the plea. you slide your fingers home. the movement is slow, wet, and direct.
jungwon cries out, a raw, needy sound of agony and pleasure. he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands flying up to grip the back of the passenger seat, his knuckles white. his entire body is shaking.
"don't look away," you command, your voice hard. "i told you to watch me. i want you to see how easy it is for me to get off when you're begging like this."
his eyes snap open, dark and tortured, fixed on your hand. he's breathing in shallow, panicked gasps.
you start to move your hand. slow, focused, relentless. you look down to see him rubbing himself through his boxers, grinning when you see the large wet spot.
seeing your face jungwon takes it as permission to touch himself, freeing himself of the restraints of spandex and allowing his hand to grip himself all while watching your fingers disappear into your cunt.
you watch mesmerized, the moonlight peaking through the window and directly on to the sweaty and whiny mess that was jungwon. your tongue darts out instinctively as you watch him fuck his fist, his thick cock pink as cum dribbles from his tip.
jungwon is completely undone. he starts to make frantic, whiny noises, choked little sounds of desperation that he can't control.
"fuck, fuck, you're so dirty," he manages, his voice thick with tears and lust. "stopâpleaseâi can'tâ"
you increase the speed, your focus absolute, riding the high, needy energy radiating off him.
"you said you'd do anything," you remind him, moving your hips slightly to grind against the top of his head. "now beg me to stop. beg me to let you take over."
he lets out a broken, anguished sob, his composure completely gone. he doesn't know whether to grab you or run. he's completely helpless.
"i'm begging you!" he cries, the sound pathetic and raw. "please, i can't watch, i need to touch youâlet me, pleaseâi'll be good, i'll be quiet, just let me use my hands, i'm gonna explodeâ"
he's panting, shaking, tears streaming down his face as he watches you bring yourself to the brink again. he's utterly destroyed by his own subservience.
you use his breakdown as fuel, focusing entirely on your own pleasure, riding the intensity until the tremors start again.
just as you feel the your high approaching, you snap your head back and issue a final command, your voice rough with impending orgasm. "now, jungwon!"
he lets out a final, agonizing moan, arching his back violently against the seat, his hips slamming forward, eyes rolling back as he loses himself completely, spilling hot, messy release right against his boxer briefs.
you watch his flushed face, streaks of cum painting his hoodie and fist and you wish you could take a picture and have it engraved into you.
the car is silent except for the frantic, ruined sound of both of your gasping breaths. he collapses, his forehead hitting your inner thigh, trembling uncontrollably. he's spent, ruined, and completely gone.
"fuck," he whispers, his voice thick with tears and the sheer, overwhelming mess of his release. "i love you. i love that you did that to me."
his sudden words had you gasping, a deep flush covering you and you couldn't help but murmur the words back as you watched him jitter.
the intensity broke slowly, like a fever finally receding. jungwon slumped against you, his breathing ragged but evening out. the desperation was gone, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.
he didn't lift his head, just shifted until his cheek was resting against your collarbone, his arms settling around your waist in a loose, purely comforting hold. he was a heavy, dead weight in your lap.
"i'm so sleepy," he mumbled into your shirt, the words muffled and childish.
you ran a gentle hand over the damp hair at the back of his head. "i know. let's go home."
he sighed, a deep, shuddering sound of pure relief. "stay right here."
you didn't respond with words, just kept running your fingers through his hair. he closed his eyes, his breathing growing slow and even against your skin.
you swallow harshly as you begin to peel his grip off of you, attempting to retreat back to the drivers seat so you could drive back home.
after successfully doing so, you hazily pull up your shorts and start the car, glancing at jungwons sleeping form. a soft smile gracing your lips before a pit in your stomach begins to grow.
just as you were about to pull out from the side of the road, your eyes catch a figure sitting 10 feet away from your car on a bench. mouth agape and body tilted, the elderly man seemed completely and utterly shocked at whatever he had witnessed.
well fuck.
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BEST TO READ IN DARK MODE FOR EFFECTS
CONTENT â fiction with smut, nsfw! mdni!, angsty toxic Heeseung, obsessive, psychosexual dark vibes step bro Heeseung, stalker heeseung, if I can't have you no one can typpa heeseung, deep voyeurism kink, needy/pervy/manipulative reader, strong depiction of fantasies, sexual tension, consensual edging, p in the v, overstimulation, light choking, public act, bad behavior's reader.
WCâ 10k (proof read !!)
Was literally obsessed with those two songs when writing this : https://open.spotify.com/intl-fr/album/4OFZVvqlg84Czl7td7XddK?si=rakigTTnSJyY8CnPyp8A7w
Heeseung barely glanced up the first time you met.
Not when your mom introduced you, her laugh sharp and grating over the clink of designer glassware. Not when she called you her little angel, like she hadnât spent the last decade ignoring your existenceâlike a piece of cloth begging to be brought back just because itâs trendy now. And definitely not when you smiled at him like you actually meant it.
He just slouched further into his hoodie. Hood up, sleeves covering half his hands like armor. Said something that mightâve been âhey,â but it sounded more like: I donât give a shit.
You smiled anyway. Quiet, composed. Like you didnât notice he hadnât met your eyes yet, hadnât even registered the color of his irises. He had a good face, for sure. And a nice name. Heeseung. Heeâseung.
Letâs try not to forget itâŠ
Heâs Heeseung. The one who doesn't match the luxury flooring or manicured smiles. Heeseung, who looked more interested in his phone screen than the pricey piece of steak heâd just been served.
You...
You were different. And Heeseung noticed.
Because other girlsâespecially the daughters of his fatherâs revolving door of Stepford wivesâalways played the same game: almost flirty, too fake, self-obsessed, and excited to be part of the family.
You⊠you were calmer. Almost shy. Ashamed to even call your mom âMom.â You were also interested in his presenceâlightly tapping his foot with yours, giving him those apologetic doe eyes, like: Sorry that my shameless mom got a grip on your already-married dad just to milk him dryâŠ
But itâs not like he divorced his mom for yours. And itâs not like you were the first one. Generally, the other step-siblings never asked about him. Never cared to know what lay beneath the hoodie-tortured-kid style he wore like armor.
You?
You looked at him like he was a person. Like you saw something he didnât even believe was still there.
And with monthsâand then a yearâmaybe⊠you liked what you saw.
You asked questions. Not the fake kind. Real ones.
âYou coded that game on your own?â
âYou really won a national contest?â
âThat glitch mechanic you added⊠did you write it from scratch?â
He wasnât used to that kind of attention. Not anymore.
You leaned over his laptop one afternoon, wide-eyed, genuinely impressed. Your breath was warm on his shoulder, the scent of vanilla and soft detergent clinging to your hoodieâone he was almost sure used to be his.
âYouâre kind of a genius,â youâd said, and smiled that smile. Soft. Easy. Like you werenât afraid of him.
Because why would you be? You were always so nice and caring to him. Youâd bring him a plate of food when his dad never cared to check even once. Leave Post-its with sweet pep talks before examsâones that made him smile for the first time in a decade. Sit silently beside him after he got scolded for placing second on the honor board. Your hand, always soft and peach-scented, would stroke his hair like he wasnât eight months older. And your eyesâso sweet when they met his.
You werenât supposed to make him feel things.
And he wasnât supposed to want someone like you.
But there you were. Not just primâbut infuriatingly so. You weaponized it. You made being stuck-up look like a goddamn virtue. All perfect posture and polite smiles. Still, something was off. Like how you made him open up to you, but never really talked about yourselfâyour life, your past. Always mysterious, always evasive when he got curious, always turning the tables on him.
You⊠you made him feel watched. Seen. Known.
And he didnât like not knowing you back. Because he needed to know everything. It was pathological. Every variable that could disturb his life. Every secret.
And you... Oh you, you were the unknown variable. The only one he couldnât figure out.
And the worst part?
Heeseung couldnât match you. He wasnât good with people. Never had been. Getting you to open up? Never happening. He even got tense in crowds. Even if girls liked him, he couldn't maintain relationships beyond hookups. He could throw a punch, sureâbut he'd rather let the other guy walk off with a smirk, too bored to bother.
But he was good at something: systems. Code. Surveillance.
So he broke the rules heâd promised himself he wouldnât... At least with you.
He hacked your devices.
He shouldnât have connected to them. Shouldnât have hijacked your phone. Shouldnât have hacked your webcam feed like it was just another game level to conquer.
It started innocentâish. Really. Just some harmless digital snooping. New mother, new stepsister, weird vibes, potential threat to his peace and privacyâtotally justifiable.
But your passwords were laughable. The kind of thing a middle schooler could crack.
Seriously. âBookworm123â?
Please.
After all he was Mr. Cybersecurity Prodigy. Award-winning code monkey. VPN for his VPN, two-factor-auth god.
And he peeked. Just a littleâŠ
Your instagram private account, that your mom swore you didnât have because âsocials medias was too destructive for her future doctor of a child.â
Your spotify. Pinterest boards. Youâre files.
like essays about behavioral neuroscience and a note named âjournalingâ : Plans. Rage. Angry rebellion written between textbook reviews. Your escape plan : college far away, control of your own life, zero influence from Barbie and her string of Stepdads. How you craved more. Your identity crisis, GPA fetishist, and how competitive you were to the point of mania. Basically, a mirror of Heeseung in the shape of someone who tried to play the hero of his narrative.
Then, it got worse.
Because curiosity became fixation. He was too deep for it not to be.
On sleepless nights, Heeseung discovered things he absolutely shouldn't.
That his straight Aâs and volunteering hours stepsister â was actually sneaking off to frat party with her friends, just feel alive, get waisted and let some sophomore finger her.
The music you fall asleep to, your âfuckâ playlist too â the one you wouldnât admit to owning even under threat of death.
That habit of yours to flirt with strangers like you had a death wish or just want to be ruined so badly being jailed would be for your own good.Â
That you send cropped pics, no face â just enough tits and thighs, to creeps then ghost them when they beg to meet, just to feel seen.
And he knew the kind of porn you watched on school nights, after wishing him sweet dreams. Earphones on, lips between your t-shirt collar like youâre scared someone might hear you in that big mansion. And what killed him is how fucking rough it is. Spit. Hair-pulling. Throat-fucking. Girls like you werenât supposed to want that. Girls like you were supposed to blush and look away, like when he got too close. Youâre supposed to be horrified at things like that â not get off to it at 1:38 a.m.
He discovered your texts with that secret boyfriend of yours. How badly he treated you, and how you let him, just to feel owned, loved. He knew when you snuck in those late-night FaceTimes, shirt half-off, hand between your thighs, playing the loyal girlfriend for him and his pathetic dick.
And Heeseung? He was obsessed with that version of youâthe one he didnât even dare to fantasize about, yet you handed to him on a silver plate.
Your self-care sessions got him hard under his desk. Got him jerking off to the way your fingers curled around your own throat in the dim hue of your bedroom, playing at power, pretending you didnât crave being broken open.
You were too good at pretending. Sitting across from him, blouse crisp, smiling like a poetry award was the climax of your week.
What a goddamn lie.
But at least heâd seen you now. Most of you. And he understood better. Understood your issues. But something in him snapped.
Because this wasnât just about obsession anymore.
It wasnât about lust.
Or even protection.
It was about you.
And how you made him feel real again.
How you gave him a purpose.
You didnât flinch when he glared. Didnât avoid him at dinner. You just smiled, slid him your extra fries, and asked about the AI competition like it mattered. You looked at him like he was a person.
Not a project. Not a problem.
Not a hacker. Not a delinquent.
Not some mistake his father regretted.
And that⊠made you dangerous.
Because now you were a necessity. Somethingâsomeoneâhe cared about.
He did want to protect you.
But he also wanted to own you.
To erase the line between your bedroom and his. Between your thoughts and his access. Between your gasps at night and his name.
You werenât supposed to get close.
You werenât supposed to care.
And he wasnât supposed to fall for you.
Fall for you?
...
But now what ?
You were the virus in his system.
The girl who said âgood jobâ when he didnât ask for praise. Who laughed when no one else did. Who touched his shoulder onceâjust onceâand left him with a twitch in his fingers he couldnât debug.
But you were a line of code he couldnât rewrite. A live feed he couldnât turn off.
And maybe, if he watched long enough, if he memorized every breath, every sigh, every single unguarded look, you wouldnât disappear like the others.
Maybe, if he learned your patternâŠhe could break you open before you broke him.
And maybe, just maybe, youâd want him to. Even if it meant losing something. Even if it meant pulling you into the dark with him⊠and never letting you go.
Now you were sitting across from him. You spare him a glance while structuring your salad like a freak, with those doe eyes and heâs hard. Hard at a family dinner while they talked business.
Suddenly his breath catches your feet touching under the table. Like questioning, you good ?
Yeah itâs me, Heeseung. That sweet voice of yours haunting his head.Â
His foot slides slower in between your legs mindlessly and when you almost jolt, he realizes.Â
âgotta go sleep.â he blurred, rushing off the table. âTomorrow is exam day.â
Fuck, he wants more. More of your secrets.More of you, the real you.
So he turned on your webcam, night after night, and your phoneâs, and tab. like you were his favorite streamer, his favorite radio mc, the best sound to sleep. Like you wanted him to fantasise, think of it every nightâŠÂ
You were stretched across your bed, laughing into your phone, wearing nothing but a tank and panties, circling your finger on your belly mindless. The way girls do when they forget theyâre being watched.
You laid out your clothes for the next day like some little honor-roll princessâgiggling when your friend called you a chaebol, and you shrug her off.Â
But the way you lingered on the lace you never wear⊠the silk you only sleep on alone⊠the sheer pieces he has never seenâ holding them up to your chest, slow movements like the reflection was his to tell you what to wear. It was fucking foreplay. You were a fucking siren, with your fucking hair finally down, and those dumb big scare glasses off.Â
And him ?
HeeseungâŠ
He was already crashing on the rocks. He was a black-hat addict no-full-blown cyber-pervert. rock hard, mindlessly stroking his bulge at the sheer form of you in unmatched underwears.
So innocent. So mine.
Some days later, you knocked on his door while your parents were off circling the globe, allergic to stillness and obligations. Your hair was tied up but messier than usual, cheeks sun-kissed, eyes almost redâlike youâd cried.
God, if someone made you cry⊠Iâd kill them.
You held two glasses of soda, dripping with condensation. No way you could deny youâd been pacing by his door for the last hour.
âWhat are you up to, genius? Iâm bored,â you said, voice half-curious, half-something else.
Heeseungâfool, addict, liarâlet you in. Let you get too close. Showed you things he shouldnât because you asked with that look that made him feel like a god, not a glitch. But also made him wonder who had made you sad enough to want to change your mind.
Still, you smiled at his screens like they were art. Touched his keyboard like it was sacred. No step-sister had ever looked at him like that beforeâhell, no one actually had. Fuck, he needed to focus. Focus on you, not you.
âYou really made all this?â
He nodded, trying not to smirk, trying not to shake. His fingers danced across the keys like a seduction.
âWanna see something fun?â
A window blinked open. He typed some commands, and grainy footage appeared: the neighborâs yard. Middle-aged man with hedge clippers, snipping bonsai like manicuring his soul.
He tapped more keys. Suddenly, sprinklers roared to life. The neighbor shrieked, dropped the shears, and bolted.
You burst out laughing, collapsing into him, palm against his chest. That soundâreckless, sweetâmade something snap inside him. It wasnât just pride. It was possession. You werenât weirded out. You liked it. Liked him. Not the fake polite way. The way that made him want to caress your cheek and kiss those red eyes.
But he was a cowardâor your strongest soldier, as he liked to call himself. One who wanted you close, for good, not some fling youâd regret like the others he barely tolerated. No, he wanted you for lifeâand he was in the perfect position, as long as your parents behaved.
Then your eyes met. Dangerous idea sparking. You dared him with your gaze, then dashed out of his room.
âTry it on my bedroom camera!â you shouted, disappearing down the hall, hoodie flapping like a flag.
Fuck. If only you knew he was already connected.
Moments later â Cam03: Her Bedroom Feed lit up.
You stood in front of the lensâhe used to fuck himself to thoughts of youâstarry-eyed as he purposefully reactivated the red dot, signaling it was on. Made a mental note to re-enable it later.
You waved. Smiled like sin. Mouthing: âSee me?â
He choked. Because yesâhe saw you. Always had. But now? Now you saw him.
Like you always knew.
You reached for your top, lifted the hem just enough to flash bare skin, then darted out of frame, laughing like it was a game.
His chest burned. Panic and arousal mixed in his bloodstream like a drug. Heeseungâs brain broke.
But he didnât shut it down. He couldnât. Instead, he gave in. His trembling fingers dimmed your roomâs lights, shifting godspeed to soft pink. He knew it was your favorite. Knew too much.
Then he started your playlistâthe one with soft beats, gentle melody, moonstruck, your favorite.
You paused in the doorway. Turned just enough for the camera to catch you again. Smiled with pure fascination, like a kid. You shouldâve been afraid. But you werenât.
You looked at the cam again, really looked, like he was the sweetest boy, and you didnât care much what he was capable ofâbecause it was him.
You walked back to his door, dripping sunlight and mischief.
âThat was so cool,â you said, high-fiving him like your heart wasnât thundering. Like you hadnât just exposed the darkest part of him and come back wanting more. âCan you, like⊠track people? Their phones or whatever?â
Heeseung blinked. âI-if their GPS is on. Or if they ping the network.â
You tilted your head. Bit your lip. ââŠWanna play hide and seek?â
He scoffed in disbelief, but there was a glint behind his eyesâhalf challenge, half thrill. Like heâd just been dared to play a game he already knew the rules to.
He grabbed his laptop. The mansion was too big. Too full of shadows, quiet corners. A maze of marble, high ceilings, inherited guilt.
Heeseung sat somewhere, a storm brewing behind his eyes.
You texted him: âfind me.â One signal. One flare. Then silence.
He tracked you through your phone GPSâchose not to use the hallway cams, even though he easily could have. Something intimate, invasive, about watching your little red dot move on his map. Every time he walked to you was an ode to the game only you two could play.
Library.
âCheckmate. Youâre here.â
âWow! So you really can!â
West Wing.
âIf you're facing a mirror, itâs too easy⊠not even fun.â
âFuckâŠâ
Wine Cellar.
âIf youâre trying to get drunk, pick the 2007 Bordeaux.â
You laughed.
The pool.
He stuck to the GPS. The red dot blinking. Stalling. Then disappearing.
You texted: âfind me now.â
His screen dimmed like the whole house was holding its breath.
Heeseungâs pulse quickened. GPS cut out. No new pings. He tried again. Twice. Three times. Nothing. Every nerve in his body was a wire of curiosity. The air heavy with chlorine and humidity as he stepped toward the pool deck, leaving his computer by the bar.
Then he found it. Your phone, face down on the stone near the pool.
But you, you whereâ
âGot you!â You leapt.
Laughter, bare legs, hoodie off. Heeseung didnât have time to react before you crashed into himâboth of you tumbling into the water with a splash that shattered the silence.
You surfaced first, grinning like a devil. âYou canât find me if I donât want you to, huh?â you teased, flicking water at him.
Heeseung stared at you, laughing mid-cough. Clothes heavy. Hair plastered to his forehead. The water clung to your skin in a way that made his hands twitch under the surface. You floated closer then. Then reached out and hooked your fingers in his bangs, stroking them like you always did. Then tugging gently.
âHow about I cut your hair?â you whispered, too close to him not to have his eyes linger on your lips. âWeâre starting university soon. Canât show up like some code-goblin, right?â
He snorted. But you two didnât move. Just watched each other's souls for too long. Heart hammering. Skin burning. You were in his pool. In his arms now. In his system.
âAre you okay?â
He asked, with the most considering eyes a family member ever gave you. But you just nodded to his biggest displeasure.
Something was wrong, yeah.
Actually, everything was wrong. And surely something was wrong with you. You felt trapped. In your studies, in your relationship, in these always-new families, in your boring unstable life. You wanted more. More attention, more love, more recognition, more freeness, just moreâŠ
You weren't special like Heeseung. You couldnât clap your fingers and get that video back from your so-called boyfriendâhe threatened to leak if you ever thought of leaving him again. Couldnât clap your fingers and make a scholarship appear on your forms for one of the most prestigious university, and couldnât clap your fingers to make you go to your best choice without the biggest loan you can think about.
But it was better to tell him everything was okay. Because if you didn't fake it⊠youâd be dead by now.
And maybe itâs the weather, or his concerned look, or his trembling hands on your ribsânot too low, not too high. But it felt good being with Heeseung, even better seeing the way he looked at youâ
You really had a problem...
âCan you⊠like⊠if I ever asked youâŠâ
âWhat?â He came closer, almost locking you in his hands, to force you to speal the tea. âTell meâŠâ
âIf someday I needed you, would you⊠like⊠help me if I have something very complicated to solve... like⊠you know... Math.â You laughed it off like you weren't about to ask him to get that sextape back.
He nodded so obediently it hurt. The sub text was clear enough for him. And fuck, you had him in the palm of your hand without doing anything more than just letting him watch. Deny his ever-growing desire. Playing this game you caught him in.
Yeah⊠maybe you really were what your mom made out of you⊠sadly.
After that, Heeseung was like a man on a mission. He hacked every piece of info he could find on that deep shit. Until he found it⊠your complicated math exerciseâŠ
A tap of you and him. Filmed like you werenât aware of it. Heeseung couldnât find the courage to watch itâŠ
Until he did.
And it was everything he ever fantasized doing with you.
He could frame him for anything he wanted. Crash his Tesla. His mind was spiraling as he bit on his nail, replaying that video again and again and again. Zooming on you.
Iâll protect you.
First, you needed an escape. Easyâthat guy already cheated on you with so many girls, it was easy for you to catch him. So he wrote a fantasy he hoped youâd fall for. He drafted messages from your bfâs phone. A fake date. Something sweet, just enough like your boyfriend to pass.
âMeet me tonight baby girl. Just us. Letâs talk. 9PM. My room.â
âBaby girlâŠâ you hated that name, but still couldnât refuse him. And now Heeseung understood.
You saw it, and for a second, you believed. He watched you re-read it, then start getting readyâlip gloss, that fluttery dress, even that nervous little smile like it still meant something.
Meanwhile, your boyfriend was across campus, buried in someone else. Moaning her name. Careless, as always.
Heeseung watched it all, your hope fading when you opened that door, his betrayal, his choke. Your silence. Her grasp. One earbud in, one eye on every camera feed you both could offer.
You left the place in a rush, your phone starting to buzz as Heeseung watched every message your now-ex boyfriend sent you. You found yourself drifting in a club near by. You needed air, music, and drinks, a lot of them.
The music wasnât even that good, your drink, not that strong. You didnât plan to dance. And you didnât plan for some no-brain guy with smooth hands to hit on you.
And you almost let him have his way near the bathrooms. Just to forget the sound of your phone. Forget that you had to go back to that guy until he decided heâd had enough or leaked the tape.
Almost.
Until Heeseungâs hand was on your wrist, showing up out of nowhere to pull you away.
âHeeseung?â
He got you out of the club, his hand digging into your wrist. The car ride was dead silent. Heeseung looked pissed. You were hollow, but not dumb. And you let him snap.
âWhat the fuck were you thinking?â
You didnât answer.
â... Donât you have a bf?â
Still silent. Tears welled up before you could blink them back, and Heeseung was at a loss for words. Yeah, it was that easy to shush himâcrocodile cries easy.
âStop cryingâŠâ he muttered, but he looked panicked now. Like your tears were acid on his skin. âTell me whatâs going on?â
Like he didnât know.
But you had to play it well. Make him do it tonight, and no other night.
âHe cheatedâŠâ
âThen leave himâŠâ
âI canâtâŠâ Hee looked at you with fake wonder. âHe filmed me once⊠andâŠâ
He nodded, enough to tell you you didnât need to keep going.
When you got home, Heeseung took your hand before you stormed into your room, and he watched youâreally watchedâand got in a hug. Caressing your hair, getting closer to your ear, âI'll help you.â
You almost feared he could feel your smile. You detached your head with the saddest questioning expression.
âIâll protect you,â he said, the heaviest stare he ever gave you.
You just nodded like you werenât expecting much. When you actually wanted exactly what he gave you.
Back in your room, you kept re-seeing Heeseungâs expression. Almost mad, almost dangerous.
And you. You wanted more. You wanted everythingânot just protection, but revenge. Revenge for the time you lost on that guy, for your virginity you couldnât bring back, for the stress⊠for everything.
So you opened your laptop. Placed your phone next to it like itâs part of the performance. You know heâs watching.
You know.
Heeseung, on his part, got in his room ready to execute the next part of his plan when the ping of your camera alerts him. But tonight is not the night. After seeing you like that, he doesn't want to do that.
So he started to undress. Untilâ
âHeeseung?â
His head snapped to his monitor. WTF.
âYouâre here, no? I mean, youâre watching.â
He almost fell on the ground, unable to walk straight to his computer.
The webcam light doesnât flicker on right away when you open it.
You look at your reflection. This webcam is better than the last time you used it. Wide-angle. Pretty high-def. You can see almost your entire room. Bed. Closet. Console. The mirror angled just right to show the bathroom.
God. You made it so easy for him.
You let your fingers lazily drift to your dress straps. In a slow reveal. You watch yourself in the cameraâlegs tucked just right to keep mystery intact. Eyes locked on the return. You open yourâ
âYou like it when I do that?â You looked almost innocent doing it. What the fuck were you doing, Heeseungâs mind screamed. âYou want more?â
Heeseung was stunned. Too many questions. Too many desires.
He didnât even respond, his hand mindlessly disconnecting your cameraâs red dot and reconnecting again like Morse.
âThen ruin him for me. Make him as ashamed as I was.â
You were pulling his obsession like strings. A puppet master in silk cloth. The light on the webcam flickered once again.
You smiled, slowly nodding. âGood night, Heeseung.â Shut it all down.
By morning, half the campus was infected with a juicy little virus: dozens of very compromising photos of your now-ex, including a special feature of him being pegged by none other than his momâs best friend.
Iconic.
The breakup text? Already sent. Blocked him before your brain even had a chance to process.
You didnât see him all day. No dinner, no open door when you brought snacks. Nothing.
Maybe you really fucked up. Poor Heeseung, thinking you were innocent, only to find out you were just like everyone elseâgrey, messy, complicated.
But just before bed, your phone lit up. A note. Your password written clear on the screen.
You sat frozen, eyes flickering between the note that started typing on its own, and the webcam pointed right at you.
âIâll always protect you.â
Then, an mp4 file popped up. Your lips curved into a shy smile.
You almost said something, but instead, you tapped beneath his words:
âThank you, Heeseung. I donât know what Iâd have done if you werenât there.â
The cursor blinked, pausedâlike he was thinking hard about what to say next.
âI protect whatâs mine.â
Your eyes drifted to the webcam. âAm I?â
âArenât you?â
Your gaze dropped shyly, biting your lip to keep the smile from slipping out. Fuck, it was hotâthis obsessive, protective boy whoâd kill for you.
âI amâŠâ you breathed, fingers playing with the thin straps of your dress.
âMaybe?â
Slowly, you peeled it off. No bra. No panties. Just you. Bare, glowing in the soft light of your screen.
On Heeseungâs side: He was a panting mess by just a look. Trembling. Rock hard. Watching was always intense, but this?
His brain shorted out. Every movement you made poured fuel on the fire in his chest, the way you loosened your hair, slid off your glasses, shy but teasing.
Your voice slipped through his headphones like a spell.
âTell me what you want,â you breathed. âIâll do it. As a thank you.â
He was nearly feral, watching you perched like a dream made just for him. But now you wanted him to take the lead. For once, you wanted control handed over.
And for a long, heavy moment, silence.
Then, a new line in your notes:
âAnything?â
You nodded, lips parting.
Another line.
âTouch yourself.â
âFor me.â
You rose, heading for your bed.
Then:
âNo. Here.â
You sat back down. Fully exposed. The chair never felt colder. The electricity on your skin was undeniableâthe weight of someone watching, devouring every move.
You shivered. Something folded inside, vulnerable but not scared.
Then your screen flickered.
A video opened.
Porn.
But not just any porn. A girl like youâsame frame, soft lighting. She was in a gaming chair, legs parted, cat headphones, a pink toy buzzing between her thighs. Moaning like sheâd been waiting for eyes to watch.
You blinked. The message was loud and clear.
Your breath caughtânot shocked, but challenged.
Back to the webcamâdoe eyes, tempted. Your fingers traced lower, hips shifting, copying her exact position. Mimicry never felt so twisted.
You didnât hesitate. Your fingers moved.
Heeseung watched like it was a live confession. Pupils dilated, chest heaving, gripping himself tight, trying not to explode too soon.
A message appeared:
âSlower.â
You obeyed, breath shaking, already slick with every stroke.
Another message:
âFuck, youâre shaking.â
You were. Legs twitching, spine arching against the chair.
You never thought youâd go this far, but he was puppeteering you with his commands.
Then:
âIâve never seen you like this. Fuck. I want to cum in you, pour every drop inside that godess cunt. In that chair. Just like that.â
You moaned, eyes fluttering shut, but you forced them open, locking onto the lens like it was him.
Another message:
âI want you ruined. For anyone else. Say it. Mine.â
You moaned, fingers freezing.
âIâm yours?â you whispered.
âSay it again,â he typed.
"Iâm yours, Heeseung?"
The pressure builtâright at the edgeâ
Then:
âStop.â
âDonât cum.â
Your breath hitched. You froze mid-stroke, legs trembling.
Another line:
âI said stop. If anyone makes you cum tonightâitâs me.â
Your fingers hovered, shaking. The ache burned deep in your thighs, stomach taut.
But you stopped.
Because his word mattered more than your desire now.
Your screen blinked.
âGet your toy.â
You swallowed, nodded, reached into your drawer.
The vibrator was familiarâsleek, pink, faintly scented from your date-night oil. You rubbed it, coating it with your wetness, then slid it slowly inside, breath heavy.
Then the toy buzzed. Flickered. Came alive.
You gaspedâhe was controlling it.
Before you could say a word, it pulsed hard. Your body jerked, chair creaking beneath you. Your grip tightened on the arms as pleasure rolled through you like a whip.
âThatâs it,â he typed. âDonât touch it. Just take it.â
You moanedâtoo much, too fastâyour body trembling, legs spreading without control. The sounds you made were filthy, desperate.
Heeseungâs fingers typed again.
âGrip the chair.â
You obeyed.
The toy buzzed harder, relentless and cruel.
âLook at the camera.â
Tears pricked, but you held his gazeâthrough that little glowing lens. Your thighs trembled, breath catchingâ
He knew.
He memorized every sound, every gasp, every twitch.
Your climax hit like an explosion, so fierce your back arched from the chair. Toes curled, lips parted in a silent cry.
If only you could hear itâthe gasp, the groan, the shuddering moan from his room. Rooms apart, perfectly synced.
You collapsed back against the seat, chest heaving.
The toy powered down. The room fell silent but electric. Only the Notes app stayed open. One final line appears:
âI know your body better than anyone ever will.â
You smile, eyes rolling, calming yourself. Youâre still catching your breath when your phone buzzes.
Unknown Caller.
You smirk. Answer it without hesitation.
Hee,â you whisper, lazy satisfaction dripping from your tone.
You hear him, shaky, panting, like the edge nearly broke him. âFuck,â he groans. âFuck⊠Youâre so pretty. So fucking pretty. You donât even know what you do to me.â
His voice is hoarse, frayed with restraint. You picture himâstill burning from his climax, hand resting low, skin flushed.
âYou drive me insane. Every breath you take, every moan...â He watches you lift your thighs, tucking yourself shyly behind them like a girl playing innocent. âItâs mine. Youâre mine. Donât you get it? I want you so bad IâfuckâI canât evenââ
You cut in softly.
âHeeseung,â you murmur, voice smooth like silk sliding over a blade. âI never said I was yours...â
Silence.
You lean in, sugar-sweet, doe eyes locked on the lens, like you donât quite know what youâre doing.
âYou think this makes me yours?â
He breathes hard. You swear you hear the tension in his throatâhow he swallows that growl.
âThen what?â he whispers. âWhat do I have to do?â
You hum, hiding your face in your thighs, thoughtful. âIâll know.â
Heeseung almost chokes. âYouâre playing with me.â
You tilt your head.
âOf course I am, Hee. Isnât that what you like? What we always did? Playing games.â Your voice softens, teasing, the tone that always breaks him. âYouâre obsessed, Hee. But to own me?â you shake your head slowly. âYouâll have to do more than just watch me cum on camera.â
A pause. You let it hang, let it burn. Then, low and teasing:
âIf you really want me,â you whisper. âStop being a coward. Show me.â
His breath catches. You almost feel the stillness on his end.
Click.
You hang up.
Still smiling, you toss your phone aside.
âGood night, Heeseung,â you murmur to the camera before shutting everything down.
đ§
Heeseung hadnât heard your voice in three days.
Not on the phone, not through the headphones, not even that little intake of breath when you tiptoe around your room late at night.
Three days.
Seventy-two hours of silence.
No webcam flickers. No Notes app replies. No little âgood night, Heeâ teasing him through pixels.
Nothing.
He tapped at your IP like a lunatic. Pinging dead signals. Checked your cloud for new files. Scraped your cache for cam logs, anythingâanythingâthat might prove you were still playing.
But you werenât. Youâd shut him out completely. Blocked him, in every way that mattered, except the one that destroyed him the most: in person, you were still perfect.
Because in real life, you were still her.
Still the step-sister who sat next to him at dinner, nudging his arm, sipping from his glass like it meant nothing. Still in those stupid soft modest dresses that smelled like your vanilla lotion and innocence. Still saying his name in that sweet voice that didnât match the girl who once whispered âIâm yoursâ for a night, while fingering herself in his favorite dress.
Still shy smilling in front of the parents, like he wasnât slowly going fucking insane of you ghosting him in the cruelest way possible.
Heeseung clenched his jaw until it hurt. His fists, tighter. You were torturing him. Training him with your silence. Denying him touch, sound, ownershipâmaking him feel like just another loser watching from a screen.
And worst of all? You liked it.
He could see it in the way you smiled at him when no one was looking. Like the devil behind a halo. Like the dom who knew her puppy would crawl the moment she said good boy.
You knew what you were doing. And you knew he was starving.
He watched you meet someone new through your messagesâtracked him from his first DM. The second the guy sent a heart emoji, Heeseung had full access to his cloud, laptop, phone, and location history.
So when you showed up at that guyâs place in that same dress as that night, Heeseung went feral. watching you through the guyâs hacked MacBook camera. Front-row seat. 1080p. Wide angle. Clear sound. Perfect view.
You didnât even try to hide untapping your phone camera, angling it for him. But he was already there.
He watched the way you swayed when you walked into the room. That skirt was shortâbarely legal. Hair done like you were on a mission to ruin him. Lip gloss like you were asking to be kissed. Or owned.
Heeseungâs fists dug into his thigh. You let the guy kiss you. Hands on your hips. Heeseung scoffed in fury. The guy went down on you and Heeseung leaned forwardâeyes glued to your face smiling at him. Not for the man.
Only for him.
You mouthed his name, Heeseung, made that sound againâthat sweet gasp that cracked every nerve in his bodyâand his hands were already down his pants before he even realized it. Stroking slowly. Angry.
Then the guy started fucking you. It was⊠pathetic.
You looked bored. Pretty. But not wrecked. Not how Heeseung would have done youâneeded you. Not how you looked when he edged you, whispering commands through your notes.
He texted :
Heâs not even close to making you cum.Why are you with him?Stop.Â
Now.Â
Please.
You didnât stop. You got louder. Not for performance, because knowing hee was watching, unleashed you.
Heeseungâs hand stuttered. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard it bled. You were performing. For him, not the other guy. You had to be. And yet you didnât stop when he begged you.
Heeseung didnât drink. Didnât smoke. Didnât call a friend.
He texted one of the girls whoâd been orbiting him since he entered universityâsome pretty, pouty girl with no idea what she was walking into.
She came fast. Obedient. Heeseung fucked her like punishment.
Shoved her onto his lap, dragged her skirt over her hips without a single word. Didnât ask if she was ready. Didnât even pretend to care. Just spread her thighs, lined himself up, and buried inârough, silent, merciless.
She moaned his name, kissing his neck. Heeseung kept his eyes on the screen. Because on the monitor behind her?
You were still live. Fucking someone else. His airpods were in. And he was moaning your name under his breath.
The girl was clueless to much overwhelmed by his deep, rough trust. Riding him like she thought she was doing a good job for him to be so feral.Â
Heeseung touched her the way he would have to you, controlling. forcing her in position trying to reach her deepest part, as he watched your hips roll on screen. Your nails dig into someone elseâs back.
âGrippe my back. leave marks.â he ordered her.
He hiss, mouthing along with your sounds like a prayer.
âFuckâLouder. Just like that... Just like thatâfuck.â
The girl on his lap whimpered, âdoes it feel good, Hee?â
Heeseung stared at your bodyâyour lips, your tits, your sweat-shined thighs.
âYouâre so perfect,â he muttered. âFuckâyouâŠâ
His climax came hard, violent. He choked your name on the exhale and came inside the girl like she didnât matterâbecause she didnât.
When the girl left, he stared at the screen for an hour. Watched you dress. Watched you check your phone. Smiling.
Not once did you reply to his messages.
You were killing him. Starving him. Making him beg. He slammed the laptop shut, chest heaving, hatred and love boiling into the same sick ache.
You were right. He was a coward. But not for much longer.
You found it on your bed. No card. No note. No sender. Just a black box, wrapped in a ribbon you never heard arrive. Inside: lingerie. Lace. Sheer. Decadent. Your exact size. Your exact taste. Lightly soaked in a scent you could recognize in your sleepâhis cologne.
Your fingers trembled when you held it up to the light. No message. But then again, he never needed words.
Heeseung didnât ask. He tried to command.
So, you didnât text. Didnât thank him. You just wore it.
That night, when the webcam light blinked to life, you were already sitting pretty in front of your laptop. Sheer fabric draped over your body like a sin begging to be confessed.
You leaned into the camera, eyes soft, voice sweeter.
âGoodnight, Genius. Hope uniâs not eating you alive.â
And thenâ
You logged off. Just like that.
Left him starving. You knew heâd pretend it didnât affect him. He tried, bless him.
He texted the next day, like it was nothing. Invited you to his university party. Like this wasnât war. Like he wasnât already losing.
Of course, you went. Dressed in red. Not the lingerieâsomething sharper. Something that made his friends stare a little too long.
Heeseung barely spoke to you that night. Slipped back into his old selfâlike he hadnât spent the week watching you like a man possessed. But he was in his element, charming his nerdy circle, and you were happy just watching him thrive.
Then, it changed.
He didnât introduce you as his stepsister. That alone cracked the air between you. His hand found your back, fingers tracing lazy nothings while he laughed with his friends, eyes on you like you were art.
You liked seeing him smile. Liked knowing you made it easier.
And thenâhe excused you both. His friends wished you luck with admissions. So polite. So clueless.
He walked you up a narrow hallway, like it was nothing. A quiet corridor, half-lit.
Then he locked you in a hug.
And kissed your neck.
âYouâre so pretty,â he whispered, hands already exploring.
âYou too,â you murmured, smiling. âNew haircut? You kept it long in the back. Looks good.â
âYou said I should, so...â
You smiled harder, went in for a kissâyour first. His lips were maddening. Soft, sure, and hungrier than you expected. He kissed like heâd waited for years. Like heâd decided waiting was over.
"Untie your dress," he whispered against your mouth, voice low.
You raised a brow, smirking. âThought you liked watching from afar.â
His jaw flexed. âNot tonight.â
You let the ribbon fall, letting the dress slip open. Underneathâhis gift. His breath caught.
âYou like it?â you teased.
He didnât answer. He spun you, pressed you into the wall, and his hand was already between your thighsâfinding you soaked.
His mouth brushed your ear, voice cracking with restraint.
âFuck. Youâre so wet for me. Iâve waited so long.â
âSay it,â he growled.
âWhat?â
His thrust was sharpâtwo fingers deep.
âSay you want me to ruin you. Say you like it.â
You whimpered, arching into his hand. âI like it when you ruin me.â
âSay it right.â
You licked your lips. âI want to be yours, Heeseung. Ruin me.â
His exhale was jaggedâlike something inside him broke.
Then came silence. Just heat. Breathing. Fingers moving in and out of you as he grinded against your body, shameless and reckless in a hallway anyone could walk into.
And just before you cameâhe pulled away.
âNo,â he said simply. âLetâs go.â
âHome?â
âNo. My room.â
His dorm was massive, dark except for the red glow of a snoozed monitor. His roommate was nowhere. Probably never real to begin with. You practically jumped on him. Messy kisses. Wandering hands. He kissed your neck, your shoulder, your backâand thenâ
Your hand brushed his desk. The monitors flared to life. And there you wereâyour webcam feed, glowing on the screen.
Recording. Your name as the file.
âYou always make me watch,â he whispered, stripping you down to the lingerie. âNow watch yourself.â
He pulled you onto the bed, body still facing the screen.
âYouâre mine,â he murmured, spreading your legs for the camera. âIâve owned you since the first time you stepped into this house.â
On screenâyour reflection trembled. Moaned. Melted in real-time.
He eased fingers inside you again while holding you in his lap, pinching a nipple until you gasped, breath tangled.
âI know what you fantasize about when youâre bored,â he whispered.
He started humping you, slow and heavy.
âI know what kind of porn you scroll pastâthen go back to.â
Thrust.
âI know which songs you loop when you touch yourself. I synced your playlist.â
You choked on a gasp.
âI know you changed your passwords, just to make me mad.â
His hand curled lightly around your throat.
âBut I like it. I like when you pretend.â
He never slowedâjust kept pushing you higher, mean and relentless.
And when you moaned his name?
He broke.
âIâm going to give you every twisted thing youâve ever typed,â he growled. âEvery fantasy you deleted. Every filthy draft you couldnât finish. Iâm going to make them real.â
Your climax slammed into you, shuddering through your bonesâbut he didnât stop.
âIâll tie you up in the library when no oneâs looking,â he said, voice wicked. âBend you over your best friendâs bed and leave a bruise only Iâll recognize.â
He laughed.
âIâll make you cry my name with someone else inside youâjust to remind you no one will ever ruin you like I do.â
You turned and kissed him, wild and unhinged.
He kissed back like a claim. Like he was branding your soul.
Then he grabbed you and threw you onto the bed. Reached for a condom.
You stopped him.
âItâs safe today, Hee. Do me raw.â
His pupils darkened. Something dangerous sparked.
He freed himself and dragged his cock against your wetness, teasing your entrance. You moaned each time the head kissed you. His smile was smug. Addicted.
âHeeseung. Please.â
He noddedâand slid in all at once.
You gasped, overwhelmed, stretched so good it hurt in the most perfect way.
He rocked into you deep and slow, biting your neck, lips pressed against skin he couldnât stop worshipping.
Then he pulled you uprightâstill inside you.
âYou like this position, huh?â
You nodded, dizzy, undone. He studied you like heâd been preparing for a test. He always aced those.
Thenâhis thrusts changed. Not faster. Just deeper. Harder.
âHeeââ
âLike that, yeah?â
You nodded again, mouth open, breathless at every delicious, punishing thrust.
He looked so fucking good like thisâhair sticking to his forehead, lips parted, eyes glazed with need. You went for another kiss and he gripped your neck, slid to your hair, pulling until your back arched.
âLike that?â
âYeahâyeahâfuckâdonât stopââ
He sucked your tits, relentless now, chasing both your highs. You clenched down so hard his groans turned ragged. He bit your nipple, then folded you in half, throwing your legs over his shoulders.
And thenâhe lost it.
He didnât slow.
Not even as your body bucked under him, shaking.
He buried himself deeper, fingers biting into your hips, sweat dripping from his jaw as he fucked you like he wanted to unmake you.
The monitors kept rolling. Your name flashing on screen, over your own moans.
You reached for himâsome desperate grasp for balanceâbut he pinned your wrists above your head, fucked you harder. One of your legs slipped off his shoulder, and he yanked it back up with a grunt.
âKeep it there,â he snarled, breath ragged. âDonât move unless I say.â
You didnât.
You couldnât.
You were already too far gone.
You felt yourself stretch around him again, again, again, your walls pulsing and fluttering with every brutal thrust. It was filthy, unrelenting, and it wasnât enough.
Heeseung's voice was in your ear, low and wrecked.
âThis how you like it, hm?â he panted. âGetting used like this, getting ruined on camera for me?â
You sobbed a yes high and gasping, and he growled. His hips snapped forward again, this time shoving you higher on the bed.
âFucking take it.â
He leaned in, biting your lip, grinding deeper. The rhythm turned meaner. Each thrust slamming into you with brutal precision.
âYou like knowing Iâll replay this?â he whispered. âJerk off to it when youâre not around?â
You moaned helplessly. âWant you to... I want you obsessed.â
"I am," he said. "You made me this."
His rhythm stuttered, he was close. You could feel him twitch inside, groaning against your mouth.
Thenâ
He came.
Hard. Buried deep.
His whole body went taut over yours, shuddering as he emptied himself, hips rolling slower, deeper. You felt the heat inside you, the stickiness, the way his cock throbbed even after the high.
And still, he didn't pull out. He kissed your collarbone, your throat, lazily now. Worn out. Quiet. The screen behind him kept glowing.
Your body was wrecked, your heart pounding against his chest. He pulled you close, like he wasnât finished. Like he never would be.
đ
The next morning, the sun barely broke past his blackout curtains. You were still half-naked in his sheets when you heard his fingers tapping at his laptop. A fresh hoodie hung off his shoulder, hair a messy halo.
âHey,â he said, voice rough with sleep.
You groaned into the pillow. âAlready working?â
He smirked. âCoding clears my head. Better than coffee.â
You rolled over. He looked too good like this. Soft around the edges. Eyes warm.
âI wish you could come here,â he said. âTo my university.â
You blinked, suddenly alert. He smiled, but it didnât reach all the way. âYou did apply, right?â
ââŠYeah.â
He nodded like he already knew. âBut you didnât tell meâŠpfff.â
Your stomach turned, just a little, as you smirked. âI didnât want you to be happy for something so unsure.â
âI know.â
Silence. He got back typing.Â
âYou really think I wouldnât find out?â he said. âYou think Iâd just⊠let you leave somewhere else?â
You narrowed your eyes. âWhat did you do?â
He smiled. Shrugged. âNothing youâll ever be able to prove.â
Your heartbeat slowed. Thick. Smiling unsure.
âHeeseung...â
He stood, walking over. Calm. Barefoot. Still smelling like last night and wanting more.
âI didnât touch your application,â he said softly. âBut I mightâve nudged the scholarship committee. Youâre exceptional, after all.â
You froze. âWhy?â
âBecause you belong here, in that prestigious place and nowhere else.â
His fingers grazed your chin. Tender. Possessive.
â...With me.â
You swallowed. He tilted your face up to his, eyes half-lidded.
âYou would've turned it down if you knew,â he murmured, getting his lips closer, smooching slowly. âYouâre too proud for that kind of help. Too proud to admit you want to be kept.â
Your voice caught in your throat. âThatâs not why I applied.â
âI know why you applied, just like me.â
His thumb ghosted over your lower lip.
âThatâs why I made sure youâd stay. to be free.â
A flicker of something dangerous passed between you. Or maybe it had always been there. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.
âYou think youâre playing me right now, huh,â he whispered, âbutâwhat if I like being used, if it means I get to keep you?â
Your breath hitched. And he smiled. Like heâd already won. Or maybe he was wrong. Maybe youâd just let him believe he had.
MASTERLIST
Authorâs Note:
Babies~ here it is!! đ The second part of my enha stepbro AU (first one was HUNTED).
I really hope this one pleased you⊠did it??? đ„ș I worked so hard on this piece to match the exact vibe I had in mind. Likeâwhy was I waking up at 3 AM with wild ideas for scene effects that were borderline impossible to execute?! đđ
This one definitely has a different flavor! While HUNTED leaned into soft, needy sub!Jakey energy (bless him), I wanted TRAPPED to explore the more intoxicating side of obsessionâbut not so far that we start hating our sweet little Heeseung~ Just a touch of crazy, yâknow?
I really hope the mood translated well, because after rereading it 500 times, I fully lost that "first read magic" feeling Iâm not super proud of this draft yetâkinda wish I had more time to proofread and polish it up. Iâll probably update it later (perfectionist problems đ). Next up is Part 3, which is supposed to be Sunghoonâs! Let me know if you want anything special in itâIâm all ears... and pervy brain. Just know itâs gonna involve dacryphilia, so bring tissues⊠for various reasons
MINOR DO NOT INTERACT.
Pairing: stalker!Jeong Yunho x afab!Reader
Word count: 14.2k
Genre: Stalker/Obsession, Patience/Planning, Power Exchange/Control, Protection/Rescue Dynamic, Explicit Intercourse (p to v), Oral Sex (f), Praise/Degradation Kink. Meticulous Stalking/Scheduling, Lie/Confrontation Dynamic, Martial Arts/Physical Submission (Yunho uses Hapkido to subdue a threat), âGood Boyâ Dynamic/Mockery (Reader provokes Yunhoâs dominance), Consent/Arrangement, Creampie/Unprotected Sex (Condomless, confirmed to be on the pill. WRAP IT UP.), Strong Verbal Dominance/Possessiveness.
Please note: This content is for mature audiences due to the extreme psychological themes and explicit sexual content. The core theme is the willing surrender to an admitted stalker, focusing on the thrill of sexual control and transgression. It features verbal degradation and possessive threats as an expression of desire. The author does not tolerate or condone real-world stalking, coercion, or any form of manipulative behavior. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
A/N: Oh well. I will fix this later. Have fun reading. I fuckinâ hate uploading long-ass fiction stories from now on. My phone was lagging as hell. It is my first time too writing more than 10k words. (Edit: Rate it for me so I can see your reactions. I might upload the epilogue.)
The late afternoon sun of October filtered through the tall, leaded-glass windows of the campus library, casting long, dusty beams across the silent study tables. You, Y/N, always claimed this was your favorite time: the golden hour where the dayâs frantic energy settled into a quiet, focused hum. You were hunched over a heavy textbook on microeconomics, coffee long since gone cold, trying to conquer the final, brutal chapter before the midterm.
A familiar, barely perceptible rustle drew your attention. Without looking up, you knew who it was. The quiet boy.
He sat three tables away, always at the same time, in the same spot, nestled behind a towering stack of architecture monographs. He wasnât loud or distracting; in fact, he was the picture of studious invisibility. His name, youâd learned through an orientation roster once, was Jeong Yunho. He had dark, neatly styled hair that fell just over his eyebrows and a profile that was sharp and strangely arresting when he was deep in concentration.
He was a batchmate, an art major, though youâd never spoken. He was just... there.
Youâd started noticing his constant presence about two months ago. If you were in the student center cafeteria at lunch, he was usually seated alone near the windows, sketching in a large pad. If you were taking your regular sunset jog around the perimeter track, youâd sometimes see him walking in the opposite direction, headphones on, head down. And here, in the library, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening, you could set your watch by his arrival.
âAnother coincidence,â youâd murmur to yourself, giving your brain a little shake to get back to the demand elasticity curve. The campus was small enough, after all.
The next day, you were having lunch with your best friend, Sana, on the sun-drenched lawn outside the humanities building. You were relaying a particularly frustrating story about a group project gone wrong.
â...and then I had to redo the entire presentation slide because Minji used Comic Sans, Comic Sans, Sana!â You took a dramatic bite of your sandwich.
Sana, sipping her iced latte, just grinned. âA true campus crime. But hey, speaking of campus regulars, whoâs that?â
You followed her gaze. Walking across the lawn toward the main gate, precisely intersecting the path of a flurry of late-day students, was Jeong Yunho. He was wearing a simple black hoodie and carrying a slim messenger bag.
âOh, thatâs Yunho. Heâs in my batch, I think. Art major,â you explained casually. âHeâs, like, the quietest person on campus. I see him everywhere.â
âEverywhere?â Sana raised a finely sculpted eyebrow, a hint of playful conspiracy in her voice. âYou see him in the library, right? You said he was the âquiet study table guyâ?"
Sana paused, taking a slower, more deliberate look at the passing figure. Yunho didnât glance toward the lawn or the crowd; his eyes were fixed somewhere on the ground ahead of him, a ghost in motion.
âHuh. He looks⊠determined,â Sana commented. âLike he has a very specific route he always takes. Kind of intense.â
âHe just looks like a guy trying to get off campus,â you chuckled, dismissing the observation. âDonât be weird.â
But as you watched him disappear around the corner, a small, cold droplet of thought landed in your mind. Determined. It was the perfect word. He never seemed to meander. He moved with the focused efficiency of someone whose destinationâand more importantly, whose timingâwas absolute.
A week later, you were walking home after an exhausting late-night study session. It was dark, and the street lamps cast watery halos on the wet pavement. You lived in an off-campus apartment complex about a fifteen-minute walk from the main gate, a route you had memorized by the cracks in the sidewalk.
You were halfway there, scrolling through your phone to play a podcast, when you heard the distinct, soft rhythm of footsteps behind you. They were keeping pace. Not rushing, not lagging, just⊠matching yours.
You immediately silenced your phone and slowed your walk, subtly glancing at a reflective window of a closed convenience store. The figure was perhaps twenty feet back. Tall, wearing a dark jacket, head slightly bowed.
Itâs just a neighbor, you told yourself. Someone else is coming home.
To test the theory, you stopped abruptly to tie your shoe, even though it wasnât loose. The footsteps stopped, too. Immediately. The silence that followed was heavy and prickly. Your heart started a quick, nervous flutter. You straightened up, looking pointedly back, but the person had melted into the shadow cast by a large oak tree. You could only make out a dark silhouette.
Swallowing, you sped up, turning down the final, slightly narrower street toward your building. The footsteps resumed, still maintaining that unnerving distance.
Then, you saw it.
You passed the familiar blue sedan that was always parked under the sickly green streetlamp on the cornerâthe one belonging to your grumpy downstairs neighbor. Tucked behind the sedan, where the light barely reached, you saw a figure leaning against a brick wall, partially concealed by the shadow of the carâs trunk.
As you got closer, your breath hitched. It was Yunho.
He wasnât walking. He wasnât following you. He was just standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, staring at a phone screen that cast a pale blue glow on his face.
âYunho?â You called out, the name sounding foreign and sharp in the night air.
He looked up, and the blue light vanished as he lowered the phone. His eyes, dark and wide, found yours. There was a fraction of a secondâa beat of pure, naked surpriseâbefore his face smoothed into a neutral mask.
âOh. Y/N,â he said, his voice quiet, almost husky. He sounded genuinely caught off guard. âHey. What are you doing out so late?â
The question was so normal it was disorienting.
âI was just⊠coming home from the library,â you said, feeling suddenly foolish and over-dramatic. âWhat are you doing here? You donât live in this complex, do you?â
He gestured vaguely down the street, and in that gesture, he seemed to shift from a suspicious figure into a perfectly innocuous, quiet student.
âRight. Walking,â you repeated, feeling a wave of relief wash over the residual adrenaline. You had let your tired brain jump to conclusions.
âYeah. Good night, Y/N,â he said softly, a low note of warmth in his voice that was utterly new.
âGood night, Yunho.â
You hurried the last fifty feet to your door, fumbling with your keys. But as you unlocked the door, you risked one last glance back. Yunho was no longer standing against the wall. He was walking away, slowly, in the opposite direction of where he claimed to live.
The relief vanished, replaced by that cold, hard knot of suspicion. He was walking away from the direction he claimed to live in.
You slid your door shut, locked the deadbolt, and stood in the dark hallway of your apartment. You saw the quiet boy, the determined walk, the immediate stop behind the tree, and the lie about his address, and a new, chilling pattern began to emerge in the back of your mind. It wasnât a coincidence.
It was an orbit. And you were the center of it.
You shivered, but beneath the fear, a strange, almost electrifying curiosity began to spark. He was a curious cat, you thought, but what exactly was he so curious about? And why did the thought of finding out make your skin prickle with both dread and a darker, more undeniable thrill?
The following days were marked by a subtle, internal shift in your perspective. The world hadnât changed, but the lens through which you viewed it had fractured. Every âcoincidenceâ now seemed charged with a silent, heavy intention.
Yunho was still everywhere, but now that you were looking, his methods felt less like chance and more like painstaking planning.
It was Tuesday, and you were back in your usual library spot. Yunho arrived exactly at 5:15 PM, as always, settling into his architecture corner. You watched him from over the edge of your textbook. He took out his materialsâa sketchbook, a slim laptop, and a particular dark-blue thermos.
You remembered thinking how organized he always was. But today, you noticed something new.
He opened his sketchbook, and immediately, his eyes darted from the page, across the aisle, and fixed directly on you for a fleeting secondânot with the intensity of the night encounter, but with the quick, scanning efficiency of someone checking a clock or confirming a target.
He then lowered his gaze, seemingly engrossed in his work. But you tried an experiment. You deliberately picked up your water bottle and took a slow, noisy sip.
Immediately, you saw the tiny, almost invisible shift in his peripheral vision. He didnât look up, but his hand paused mid-sketch, and his breathing hitched, a minimal but distinct interruption in the silent room. You felt the precise moment he registered your action.
Heâs monitoring me.
Another realization struck you, something so obvious you felt foolish for missing it. The light in your spot was notoriously bad. The light in his spot, tucked away by the shelves, was even worse. Yet, he never moved.
The best-lit table in that whole wing? It was two tables down from you, vacant half the time. He avoided it. Because if he sat there, he would be looking straight at the wall. In his current corner, however, his side profile was perfectly positioned to maintain an unobstructed, but indirect, view of you and your table. His setup was engineered for observation, not optimal lighting.
You leaned back, the textbook forgotten. The pit in your stomach was still there, but it was hardening, morphing into something resembling strategic patience.
Later that week, you met Sana for a quick coffee break between classes. She noticed your preoccupied air immediately.
âYouâre still thinking about the quiet study guy, arenât you?â she asked, stirring her foam.
âAh, the designated night walker,â Sana said dryly. âLook, Y/N, Iâm not saying the guyâs a creep, but you know how protective I am. If someoneâs popping up everywhere, and you get a weird vibe, listen to it. Guys who are too quiet usually have a lot going on upstairs.â
She lowered her voice. âHave you checked his social media? Maybe youâll see if heâs, like, posting motivational quotes about finding his destiny in the university library.â
You shrugged. âI looked once. Heâs completely locked down. No public profile, just a blank profile picture and a private account.â
âSee? Thatâs suspicious.â
But the locked profile didnât worry you; it confirmed your suspicions. It meant he was carefully controlling his visibility. A true âquiet boyâ might just be shy, but a completely invisible online presence combined with a meticulous physical presence suggested deliberate camouflage.
âMaybe he just likes privacy,â you defended him weakly, but it was only to keep Sana from getting truly concerned. You couldnât tell her about the shoe-tying test or the library sightline.
I need to see how close I can get to his sun without getting burned, you thought, a forbidden thrill bubbling up.
The next day, you decided to push the boundary, just a little.
It was your routine to stop at the small campus convenience store every Tuesday and Friday morning to buy a specific brand of sparkling waterâa habit youâd maintained for a year.
That Friday, you walked into the store at 9:05 AM. The store was busy. You moved to the back cooler, grabbed your sparkling water, and headed to the checkout.
There was a short line. Standing three people ahead of you, paying for a handful of energy bars and a large bottle of water, was Jeong Yunho.
He hadnât been there when you walked in.
He was wearing a light-gray crewneck and a baseball cap, pulled low. When he turned to leave, he brushed past you, his shoulder lightly grazing yours.
âOh, excuse me,â he murmured, his voice that low, husky sound you remembered from the night street. He didnât lift his head, just gave a quick, almost panicked nod of apology, and walked swiftly out.
You stepped up to the cashier, your heart hammering, holding the cold bottle in your hand.
âDid you see that guy, maâam?â the cashier, an older woman named Mrs. Lee, asked you with a wry smile. âHeâs always in a rush. Buy the exact same thing every Tuesday and Friday morning, right after the 9 AM lecture gets out.â
You stared at the cashier. Your 9 AM lecture let out at 9:00 AM, and you arrived at the store by 9:05 AM.
âAlways?â you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
âAlways. Like clockwork,â Mrs. Lee confirmed, handing you your receipt.
You stood rooted for a moment. You hadnât been seeing him at the convenience store before. Why was he only there now?
You reviewed your schedule in your head:
Mondays: Economics 101, 8:00 AM.
Tuesdays: Microecon lab, 9:00 AM.
Wednesdays: Campus Work Study (Off-Campus)
Thursdays: Group Project Meeting (Off-Campus)
Fridays: Microecon lab, 9:00 AM.
He had started showing up at the convenience store only on Tuesdays and Fridays, the two days you were consistently on campus at that exact time.
You had thought the stalker was following you. Now you realized he was following your schedule. He wasnât relying on chance; he had acquired and memorized your routine and was inserting himself into it with surgical precision.
The knowledge didnât frighten you into hiding, however. Instead, it lit a fire. You realized that all the pieces of the puzzleâthe sightline in the library, the knowledge of your name, the lie about his route, the sudden insertion into your predictable coffee routineâpointed not to a shy admirer, but to a calculating presence who had invested serious time in learning the architecture of your daily life.
And his panic when you called out his name on the street? It wasnât because he was surprised; it was because he was exposed. He wasnât supposed to be seen; he was supposed to be the ghost in the machine.
You walked out of the store, the sparkling water feeling suddenly heavy and cold. You looked down the street where Yunho had hurried away, and you felt a dangerous kind of resolve.
If he was watching you, observing every detail of your life, then he wanted access. He wanted to close the distance. And you, now fully aware of the extent of his fascination, decided that you would be the one to open the door, just a crack, to see what kind of dirty, nasty intentions were truly hiding behind the quiet boyâs innocent facade.
You gripped the bottle tight and started walking. You had to make a change to your routine, something small and deliberate. Something that would signal to the man in your orbit that the center was ready to shift.
The next step is mine, you thought, a predatory curiosity eclipsing the last vestiges of fear.
The shift in your routine was subtle, almost imperceptible to an outsider, but you knew it would be a flashing beacon to the quiet boy who had mapped your every movement.
Your Friday afternoon route to the library was sacrosanct: from your last class, straight to the central coffee cart for a mocha, then up the grand staircase to the silent wing. Today, you diverted.
Instead of the coffee cart, you stopped by the campus bookstore. Not to buy anything, but to browse the towering, slightly disorganized philosophy sectionâa section you never frequented. You spent ten minutes running your hand along the spines of books on Existentialism and Ethics, projecting an air of deep, thoughtful deliberation.
You knew he wouldnât be here yet. The library rule was 5:15 PM. This maneuver was about creating a brief, verifiable absence from the expected path. It was a digital footprint in his mental map of you.
When you finally entered the library at 4:55 PM, twenty minutes earlier than usual, you didnât go to your usual spot. You chose a table near the main entrance, far away from the quiet wing. You spread out your books, but instead of studying, you checked your phone.
At 5:16 PM, you saw him enter the library.
He moved with his usual measured, focused pace, heading straight for the quiet wing. He was halfway across the main floor when he registered your location.
He froze.
It was only a fraction of a second, but you saw the hitch in his stride and the slight confusion in the way his head tilted, like a compass needle thrown off true north. He was supposed to find you in the back, bathed in the golden, dusty light. Instead, you were here, under the harsh fluorescents, facing the main thoroughfare.
He recovered instantly. Without looking directly at you, he executed a perfect pivot, diverting his path to a shelf near the circulation desk. He pretended to browse the New Arrivals, using the spine of a book to obscure the side of his face. He spent a solid three minutes there, calculating.
His plans are disrupted, you realize, a dark satisfaction blooming in your chest. He needs to recalibrate.
Finally, he walked toward the main staircase, but instead of continuing to the quiet wing, he took a table one row behind you. This was a major tactical error on his partâan immediate, desperate attempt to re-establish the orbit. It meant he sacrificed his carefully constructed indirect sightline for a direct view of the back of your head.
You could feel his presence, a tangible warmth at your back.
You waited ten minutes, allowing him to settle, allowing him to believe he had fixed the problem. Then, you began phase two.
You shifted your body slightly in your chair, turning your back partially to the aisle. You then pulled out your notebook and began drawing a simple, geometric patternâa shape that required frequent, small pauses and head tilts.
And then, you pulled out your earphones, unwrapped the cord with deliberate care, and plugged them into your phone. But you didnât put them in your ears. You let them dangle over your shoulder.
The silence that had previously defined your relationship was shattered. The dangling earphones were an audible crack in the wall of your focused privacy. They were an invitation to speak, a suggestion that you werenât fully sequestered.
You went back to your drawing, maintaining the subtle, rhythmic movements.
It took another ten minutes. You heard the soft, familiar rustle of his backpack as he shifted his weight. Then, a hesitation.
Finally, the low voice arrived, closer than it had ever been.
âExcuse me, Y/N?â
The use of your name, quiet and careful, felt like a caress across the nape of your neck. You slowly turned your head, pulling one of the dangling earbuds up and holding it between your fingers, projecting mild surprise.
âOh, Yunho. Hey,â you said, your voice carefully pitched to sound friendly but slightly preoccupied. âI didnât see you come in.â
He was standing right there. Up close, his dark eyes were even more captivating, and his expression was a perfect blend of shyness and polite urgency.
âI apologize for interrupting you,â he said, gesturing vaguely at your books. âBut I⊠I noticed you studying microeconomics. I have a really stupid question about something, and you look like you have it figured out.â
This was his move. A perfectly reasonable, studious request. The cover story was flawless.
âOh, sure. Which part?â You smiled, a genuine, welcoming smile that was calculated to disarm him entirely.
âItâs about⊠the elasticity of demand, that chapter with the formulas,â he mumbled, taking a half-step closer, his eyes finally meeting yours in an unbroken gaze.
You gestured toward your stack of books. âThatâs exactly what Iâm studying for the midterm next week. Itâs tricky. Want to sit down?â
This was the final piece of the trap. He hadnât asked to sit. He had just asked a quick question. By offering the seat, you were granting the access he had labored for weeks to obtain, but on your terms.
His eyes flickered to the empty chair across from you, then back to your face. The brief moment of surprise was replaced by a visible, slow-burning triumph that he immediately smothered.
âI donât want to bother you, I justââ
âItâs no bother,â you interrupted gently. âI was about to take a break anyway. Come on. I can walk you through the midpoint formula; it saved my life last night.â
You watched him take the final, deliberate step forward, pulling the chair out and sitting down opposite you. He was close enough now that you could smell the faint, clean scent of laundry detergent and a subtle, musky cologne. The quiet boy was suddenly occupying your space.
He leaned forward, and his gaze dropped to your textbook, but not before you caught the quick, assessing sweep of his eyes across your faceâan unspoken acknowledgment of the success of his mission.
âSo, the midpoint formulaâŠâ he began, his voice dropping even lower now that you were sharing a space. He pointed to a section of your notes. His finger was long, pale, and steady.
You spent the next fifteen minutes talking about economics, but the conversation was merely a vehicle. Your brain was entirely focused on the subtext. He listened too intently, his answers too perfect, his âconfusionâ too well-articulated. He wasnât confused about the math; he was confused about you.
âWow, thanks, Y/N. That actually makes sense,â he concluded, closing the borrowed textbook page gently. He didnât immediately move to leave. He lingered.
âYouâre welcome, Yunho,â you replied, feeling the dangerous, beautiful tension hum between you. âI see you here all the time. I figured you were a genius; youâre always so focused.â
His mouth curved into that same small, almost shy half-smile. âI try to be focused. Especially on things that... catch my attention.â
The phrase hung in the air, loaded with a meaning that had nothing to do with calculus or corporate finance. He had thrown his first overt hint.
You met his gaze, holding it steady. You saw the curious cat, yes, but now you saw the razor-sharp teeth underneath the soft fur. The darkness was there, hiding just beneath the polite skin.
âWell,â you said, leaning forward just slightly, mirroring his posture, closing the last little bit of distance. âItâs a huge campus, Yunho. It takes a lot of effort to notice the same thing, in the same spot, every single day.â
You had acknowledged the orbit. You had shown him that you knew.
A flicker of something predatoryâsomething excited and deeply satisfiedâlit up his dark eyes before he masked it completely. He had been caught, and he knew you knew, but he also realized you werenât running.
âThatâs true,â he murmured, his voice now barely audible, a secret whispered across the table. âSometimes the most interesting things are the ones you have to search for... and wait for.â
The conversation was over. The game had started. You had caught him in your web, and now you were waiting to see how far he was willing to crawl.
The moment after you spoke those wordsâacknowledging his persistent, observed presenceâthe energy between you and Yunho transformed. It wasnât the tentative connection between two shy batchmates anymore. It was a wire stretched taut, thrumming with mutual, unspoken recognition.
He stood up, pushing the chair in slowly, his movements deliberate. He didnât offer a flustered denial or a weak excuse. Instead, he gave you a small, careful bow of his headâa gesture of respect, or perhaps, acknowledgment of the new terms of your engagement.
âThank you for the help, Y/N,â he said. The politeness was a thin veneer now, barely concealing the undercurrent of anticipation. âI hope our... encounters will become less coincidental from now on.â
You held his gaze, offering a slight, enigmatic smile. âIâm sure they will, Yunho. Iâm sure they will.â
He walked away, not back to the quiet wing, but toward the exit. He knew his position had been compromised, and he had secured the first key exchange: mutual awareness.
The following week, you made a second, crucial change to your routine.
On Monday, instead of leaving the library at 7:00 PM, you left at 6:30 PM.
You walked the longer, well-lit route home, passing the bustling local market where you often saw people you knew. This was a safety measure, but it was also a performance. You needed to establish a new, slightly earlier timeline for him to track. You hadnât walked three blocks before you felt the familiar shift in the air. He was there, not twenty feet behind you, maintaining the exact, equidistant pace he had on the night you confronted him.
This time, you didnât stop. You didnât pretend to tie your shoe. You simply pulled out your phone and sent a text to Sanaâa mundane, casual message about a professorâand then you deliberately slowed your pace to a leisurely stroll.
The man behind you slowed, too.
You didnât look back until you reached the brightly lit entrance of your apartment complex. As you were about to turn in, you paused and turned around fully, facing the street. Yunho was standing where the shadows began, near a large, blooming bougainvillea bush. He wasnât hiding; he was simply waiting for the inevitable moment when you would look for him.
âYouâre walking earlier tonight,â you stated, your voice calm and level, cutting through the nighttime hum.
He stepped out of the shadow, his hands still in his pockets. He looked completely relaxed, as if he had been merely contemplating the flowers.
âI was finishing up my critique. I like the fresh air this evening,â he replied, giving a slight lift of his chin. His eyes, however, were fixed intently on yours.
âDid you, now?â you murmured, letting the implication hang. âI changed my schedule. You must have thought I was missing.â
His expression didnât change, but his answer was revealing.
âI noticed. When you werenât in your spot at 7:00, I figured you might have taken the earlier train of thought.â
Train of thought. He used your academic language to signal his understanding of your patterns. He wasnât tracking time; he was tracking you.
âWell, you found me,â you said, taking a small step toward the street, decreasing the distance between you by a foot. âThatâs impressive, Yunho. Youâre very observant.â
He walked a step forward, too, meeting your small advance. He was close enough now that the gentle light from the complex entrance defined the sharp lines of his jaw and the intensity of his stare.
âYouâre the one who is hard to miss, Y/N,â he said, his voice dropping to a near-confidential whisper.
It was the darkest, most direct statement he had ever made. It implied that his interest in you was powerful enough to override all his previous caution. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a mingling of fear and sheer excitement. He was admitting his obsession, thinly veiled as a compliment. You didnât smile this time. You adopted a thoughtful, serious expression.
âMaybe. But I think youâre more than just observant, Yunho. I think youâre⊠invested.â
The word âinvestedâ hung between you, a shared secret tossed into the night. It suggested time, effort, and expectation.
He stood perfectly still for a long moment, simply absorbing your acknowledgement. Then, a slow, deep smile finally spread across his faceâa smile that was utterly different from the shy half-grin. This one was assured, almost arrogant, and laced with a profound, almost dangerous excitement. It was the smile of the hunter who had been given permission to approach the trap.
âI am,â he confirmed, his voice rougher now, no longer pretending shyness. âMore than you know.â
He took one more step, and you didnât flinch. You were close enough to reach out and touch him.
âGood,â you breathed, giving him exactly what he wantedâpermission to escalate. âBecause I find myself becoming very invested in finding out why.â
He chuckledâa low, husky sound that was intimate and unsettling. He glanced past you to the entrance of your building, then leaned in slightly, his head tilting toward yours.
âWhy donât we start with something simple?â he suggested, the shift in his tone suggesting an immediate, nasty intention lurking beneath the surface.
âWe both know where you study. We both know your schedule. Tell me, Y/N... Do you ever leave your window open at night?â
The question was a direct, dirty challenge. It stripped away all the pretense of economics and late-night walks, demanding to know the extent of your vulnerability and compliance. He wasnât asking if he could look in; he was asking if you would let him.
You didnât hesitate. You held his eye, your own resolve firm.
âOnly when Iâm expecting company, Yunho.â
The air crackled between you. You had offered the key, and Yunho had snatched it with a speed and intensity that was terrifyingly magnetic. His eyes, usually subdued, now held a deep, liquid heat.
âExpecting company,â he repeated, the phrase savoring on his tongue. The polite student was gone; what stood before you was the curious cat that had finally pounced. âThatâs good to know. I prefer invitations.â
He paused, letting the weight of the last few minutes settle. His gaze swept over your faceâfrom your eyes to your mouthâa slow, deliberate movement that felt more intimate than any touch.
âSo,â he continued, his voice barely a breath. âIf the window is an invitation, what does it mean if you are alone... and the curtain is open?â
The question was another escalation. He wasnât just observing the structure of your life; he had been observing the minute, domestic details of your privacy. He wanted to know how much of the observation was deliberate exposure on your part.
You returned his stare, refusing to yield the power of the moment.
âIt means the view is available,â you replied evenly, matching his low tone. âBut only for someone who knows exactly where to look.â
A genuine, thrilling smile broke across his faceâthe first youâd ever seen, and it was devastatingly attractive. It was the smile of someone who had just won the highest possible reward.
âI know exactly where to look,â he affirmed. He didnât need to elaborate. You knew he did. He knew the layout of your room, the placement of your desk, and the direction the light fell in the mornings.
He finally pulled his hands from his pockets, but he didnât reach for you. Instead, he reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a small, flat object wrapped in tissue paper.
âI didnât expect to have this conversation tonight, but since weâve cleared the air of coincidences,â he said, his voice laced with mocking humor, âI have something for you.â
He held it out. It was a small, perfectly carved wooden charm, smooth and polished, shaped like a miniature house key.
âWhat is this?â you asked, taking it. It was still warm from the confines of his bag.
âA token of my investment,â he explained, his eyes never leaving yours. âA reward for your honesty. And a promise. I made it in the studio this week. I thought you might appreciate something that represents access.â
The implication was clear: I made this for you while thinking about accessing you. It was beautiful, meticulous, and completely unnerving.
You closed your fingers around the tiny wooden key. âThis is a very specific gift, Yunho.â
âYou are a very specific subject,â he corrected, his voice dropping to a near-purr.
âYou kept drawing me in, even when you knew I was watching. Thatâs what I noticed first, Y/Nâthe way you almost always wear that pale blue scarf on Wednesdays, the way you pause exactly three seconds before opening your microecon book, the way your coffee cup is always chipped near the handle.â
He stepped closer, closing the last few inches of distance between you. You could feel the warmth of his body, the intense focus of his entire being trained solely on you.
âI didnât just observe you, Y/N,â he murmured, leaning down so his mouth was just inches from your ear. âI learned from you. Every meticulous, beautiful routine. And I want to learn the messy parts, too.â
His breath ghosted against your skin, and you felt a sudden, sharp intake of breath. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of all the weeks he had spent in the shadows.
âAnd if I let you?â you whispered, challenging him one final time, confirming your dangerous compliance.
His eyes darkened, and his hand lifted, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand where you held the wooden key. The contact was brief, but it felt like a brand.
âIf you let me,â he promised, his voice low and intensely serious, âyou wonât have to rely on coincidences anymore. Iâll make sure you know exactly when Iâm coming for you.â
He then pulled back, instantly returning to a distance that felt safe to the casual observer, yet agonizingly far to you now. The transition was seamless, a testament to his practiced control.
âGet some rest, Y/N,â he said, the quiet student back in place, but the underlying tone was a command. He knew he had unsettled you, and he wanted you to process it.
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the dark street without a backward glance. He had secured the conversation, the truth, and your explicit acknowledgement. The game was no longer about discovery; it was about surrender.
You stood there, the cool night air hitting your suddenly feverish skin, gripping the wooden key tightly. You didnât rush inside. You stayed until the last trace of his footsteps faded.
He had asked about the window, and you knew, with absolute certainty, that tonight, your curtain would be drawn wide open. You had invited the predator in, not out of foolishness, but out of a fierce, dark desire to confront the danger he represented. You wanted to see what he would do now that he had been given access.
Heâs invested, you thought, looking down at the small wooden key in your hand. But the dirty intentions are a two-way street.
The wooden key stayed tucked deep in your wallet, a cold, hard reminder of the boundary you had willingly dismantled. True to his word, Yunhoâs presence was no longer about stalking; it was about integration.
He initiated conversations with the practiced ease of someone who had rehearsed the scenarios a thousand times in his head. In the weeks leading up to finals, your âcoincidencesâ became scheduled study sessions.
âI know you leave the library at 7:00 PM on Tuesdays,â heâd say, appearing at your table at 6:55 PM, his expression earnest. âBut I saw the syllabus. If you skip chapter 12, we can grab a coffee at the campus center before it closes. I need a third opinion on a design concept.â
He didnât need your opinion; he needed your time. And you gave it to him.
During these talks, he was charming, attentive, and incredibly observant. He asked about your family, your goals, and your fears, processing every piece of information with startling thoroughness. He would reference things youâd casually mentioned days agoâa slight headache, a preference for black tea, a critique of a specific filmâmaking you feel deeply seen and deeply scrutinized.
He never mentioned the observation, the window, or the street encounters. Those remained the core of your shared secret, the hidden language of your dark, escalating intimacy.
Sana, however, was not fooled by the sudden, polite appearances of the once-invisible Yunho.
âHeâs definitely not the quiet boy you described,â she commented one afternoon, watching Yunho walk past your table at the cafeteria, offering you a brief, intense nod that seemed to communicate an entire paragraph.
âHe just opened up,â you countered, trying to sound casual as you rearranged your salad.
âOpened up? Y/N, heâs orbiting you like a newly discovered moon. I barely saw him for two years, and now heâs always within a fifty-foot radius of you, talking about âdesign conceptsâ and âthird opinions.â What kind of architecture student needs a microecon majorâs opinion on design?â
You forced a laugh. âHeâs eclectic, Sana.â
Sana leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. âEclectic, or calculating? You seemed so freaked out by him a few weeks ago, and now youâre suddenly best study buddies. What changed? Did you confront him?â
You kept your gaze steady, protecting your shared secret like a valuable, dangerous stone. âI realized he was just shy. And honestly, heâs a great listener. He remembers everything.â
âThatâs exactly my point,â Sana hissed quietly. âHe remembers everything. Itâs a little intense. Be careful, Y/N. I feel like youâre playing a game, and I donât trust him.â
You nodded, acknowledging her concern, but your mind was already elsewhere. Sheâs right. It is a game. And I like the way he plays.
The final exams were brutal, but the release was electric. You and Sana, along with a few other friends, headed downtown to The Foundry, a club known for its aggressive bass lines and crowded dance floor. You were attempting to navigate the packed space when you felt an insistent, unwelcome pressure on your lower back. A guy, far too old and far too handsy, kept bumping into you, trying to initiate a grinding dance. You tried moving away, but the crowd was too dense.
Feeling a spike of genuine panic and disgust, you pushed your way toward the back fire exit, needing air and escape. You burst out into the alley behind the club. The air was cold, smelling of rain and stale beer. You leaned against the brick wall, taking deep, shaky breaths, trying to get the clammy feeling off your skin.
Before you could gather yourself, the club door swung open again. It was the same man, his face flushed and his eyes gleaming with aggressive interest.
âHey, where are you going? Donât ditch the party,â he slurred, blocking the exit door with his body.
âIâm leaving. My friends are inside,â you said sharply, gripping your phone tighter.
âCome on. Donât be like that. We were having fun,â he insisted, taking a step toward you, his massive frame suddenly making the alley feel claustrophobic.
Panic seized you. Your friends were inside, unable to hear you over the music. You fumbled with your phone, ready to call Sana, but the man was closing the distance too quickly. You had nowhere to go, pinned between the cold brick and his intimidating presence.
âGet away from me,â you warned, your voice trembling.
He smirked, clearly enjoying your distress. âOr what? Whoâs gonna stop me back here?â
Just as his hand reached out to grasp your arm, a voice cut through the silence of the alleyâa voice that was low, calm, and utterly devoid of fear.
âI am.â
You looked up. Standing just at the mouth of the alley, framed by the faint city light, was Jeong Yunho. He was wearing the same dark hoodie he wore on the street, and he looked unnervingly composed. He wasnât rushing; he was simply there.
The man turned, irritated. âWho the hell are you? Get lost, kid.â
Yunho didnât respond to the taunt. He walked toward the man with slow, measured steps, radiating a focused stillness that was more menacing than any loud threat.
âShe asked you to get away from her,â Yunho stated, reaching the man. He wasnât overtly aggressive, but the intense quality of his stareâthe same focused intensity you saw when he was sketching a particularly complex designâwas terrifying.
âLook, buddy, mind your own business,â the man growled, pushing Yunhoâs shoulder dismissively.
That was all the contact Yunho needed.
In a blinding flash of movement that was over before your brain could register it, Yunhoâs hand shot out, not in a punch, but in a precise grip. He used the momentum of the manâs push, pulling the man off balance and twisting his arm back and up toward his shoulder blades.
There was a guttural gasp of pain, and the man was suddenly bent over, his face slammed against the cold brick wall, held immobilized by a single, slender arm twisted behind his back.
Yunhoâs voice, inches from the manâs ear, was deadly quiet. âLet her go. And if I ever see you near her again, I will break more than your arm.â
He held the submission for a few more agonizing seconds, then released the man with a final shove. The man stumbled away, rubbing his shoulder, his drunken aggression replaced by shocked pain and fear. He scrambled toward the street and vanished.
Silence returned to the alley, broken only by your own ragged breathing.
You stared at Yunho, whose chest was barely rising, his stillness immediately restored. He hadnât broken a sweat. He looked like he had simply solved a complicated equation.
He turned to you, his dark eyes sweeping over you, checking for damage.
âAre you alright, Y/N?â His voice was gentle, the earlier cold command gone.
You managed to nod, your heart still pounding a frenetic rhythm against your ribs. âI⊠Iâm fine. Thank you. How did youâI didnât even know you were here.â
He walked toward you slowly. He stopped a few feet away, the light from the exit glinting in his eyes. He didnât touch you, but his presence was overwhelming.
âI knew you would be out tonight,â he admitted calmly, giving up the pretense completely. âWhen I saw you leave, I waited. Iâm an expert at waiting, remember?â
He lowered his voice, his eyes gleaming with the triumph of the predator and the satisfaction of the protector. âI didnât just learn your routines, Y/N. I learned your vulnerabilities. And I will always be there when you need me to step out of the shadows.â
He had protected you, not as a boyfriend or a friend, but as an observer who felt entitled to step in and manage your threats. The dirty, nasty intention was now clear: control. And the protection, while terrifying, was undeniably effective.
You looked at the man who had stalked you, who had mastered your life, and who had just executed a perfect, professional submission hold to save you from danger.
âYou know Judo,â you stated, your voice still shaky.
He offered that dark, unsettling smile. âAmong other things. I told you I was invested. Now,â he said, taking a step toward the club exit. âLetâs get you back inside. You need to tell your friends youâre okay. And then, we need to talk about what you owe me.â
Yunho didnât wait for your reply. He simply held the club door open, his posture signaling that your reprieve was over and the conversation was now mandatory. The contrast between the cold-blooded efficiency he had just displayed and his quiet, attentive demeanor was intoxicatingly confusing.
You followed him inside, your senses heightened. The bass and the flashing lights were overwhelming, but you felt anchored by Yunhoâs presence. You found Sana and your friends near the bar, and a quick explanationââRan into a weird guy outside, Yunho helpedââwas enough to satisfy them, thanks to Yunhoâs immediate, calm confirmation of the story.
Sana shot Yunho with a look of intense, complicated gratitude and lingering suspicion. âThanks, Yunho. Seriously. You have no idea.â
Yunho simply nodded, accepting the gratitude with cool reserve. âIâm glad I was there.â
After a quick, shared drink to settle your nerves, you leaned in to Sana. âI need some air. Iâm going to leave now.â
âIâll walk you out,â Sana insisted.
âNo, Iâm fine. Yunho is going to walk me to the cab stand. He lives this way, anyway,â you lied smoothly, meeting Yunhoâs gaze across the table. His eyes held an amused, possessive triumph at your sudden reliance on him.
You grabbed your jacket. Yunho was already waiting by the door.
The late-night air felt crisp and clean compared to the club. You walked in silence for a few minutes, away from the clamor. The streets were quiet now, just the distant sound of traffic.
âYou didnât live this way the last time we talked about walking,â you finally pointed out, the accusation light, almost teasing.
Yunho slowed his pace, turning his body toward yours. âI donât live anywhere that prevents me from being near you, Y/N,â he said simply. The admission of his devotion to your orbit was now effortless, unashamed. âI told you, Iâm invested.â
âAnd youâre very skilled,â you acknowledged, touching the arm that had just subdued a man twice his size. âJudo?â
âHapkido, mostly. A little bit of Judo. Useful for controlling movement without causing unnecessary harm,â he explained, a flicker of something cold and clinical in his eyes. âYou need control when dealing with unruly subjects.â
You swallowed, absorbing the terrifying implication of the word subjects. You were his subject.
âYou saved me tonight,â you said, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. âYou saved me from a genuinely horrible situation. I owe you.â
He smiled, but this time, it was a slow, calculating smile that sent a shiver down your spine. âOwes are problematic. They imply a debt that needs to be settled quickly. I prefer... arrangement.â
He stopped walking altogether, turning to face you fully under the pale light of a streetlamp.
âI asked you once if you leave your window open,â he reminded you, his voice low and intimate. âYou said, âOnly when Iâm expecting company.â Tonight, I proved I am capable of defending your space, which is a significant part of the vulnerability you revealed to me.â
He reached out, and this time, his touch was concrete. He brushed his knuckles lightly along your jawline, a feather-light contact that felt like a claim.
âThe payment for my intervention tonight is simple,â he continued, his eyes holding yours captive. âI want to be your expected company. I want a proper invitation that is not about microeconomics or fear in an alley.â
He leaned closer, eliminating the space between your faces. âI want you to send me a single text message tomorrow. It will be the location, the time, and the explicit understanding that we are meeting, not because of coincidence, but because you want me to be there.â
âAnd if I send the text?â you asked, your breath catching in your throat.
âThen the path closes,â he confirmed, his gaze heavy with intent. âI stop having to observe the tiny, beautiful details of your life from the shadows, and I start experiencing them with you. And I can show you exactly how nasty my intentions truly are, now that youâve given me permission to approach.â
He stepped back, the warmth instantly receding. He gave you no time to reply, letting the weight of the proposal settle.
âIâll walk you to the cab stand now,â he stated, his voice returning to a neutral, courteous tone, the conversation over. âGood night, Y/N.â
As you walked away, your mind reeled. You had set the trap, but Yunho hadnât just sprung it; he had re-engineered it into a cage for both of you. He had transitioned seamlessly from stalker to protector, using violence to demonstrate the level of dedicationâand controlâhe was willing to exert.
You knew you should walk away, run far from the man who had admitted to mastering your weaknesses. But the thought of that text messageâthe power in sending the single word that would officially dissolve the barrierâwas an irresistible temptation. You had given him the key, and now he was demanding you open the door.
You reached the cab stand. Yunho stood by until you were safely inside the taxi, his figure framed by the streetlights, looking like the perfectly silent, respectable student.
The last thing you saw before the cab pulled away was his eyesâdark, intense, and waiting. Waiting for the text that would finalize the arrangement.
You arrived back at your apartment in a state of suspended reality. The silence inside felt enormous, amplifying the adrenaline that still raced through your veins. You didnât even bother turning on the main lights; the pale glow from the streetlamps outside provided just enough visibility.
You walked straight to the window. The curtain was wide open, exactly as you had left it days agoâan invitation he had confirmed heâd noticed. You looked out into the night, half-expecting to see his shadow, but the street was empty.
You touched your jaw where his knuckles had grazed your skin. The touch had been possessive, not affectionate. It was a brand of ownership.
Sanaâs caution, the fear in the alley, and the cold, calculated look in his eyes when he executed the takedownâall of it screamed danger. But the memory of his protective fervor, the speed with which he had appeared, and the honesty of his final demand outweighed the fear. He was exactly who you suspected: obsessive, dominating, and now, officially sanctioned by your own curiosity.
You took the wooden key charm out of your wallet and placed it on your bedside table. It was time to pay the price of admission.
You sank onto your bed, grabbed your phone, and opened the messaging app. You didnât have his number memorized, but he had given you his contact information early in your âstudy sessions.â His name simply appeared as Yunho in your contacts.
You started typing, then deleted it. Coffee shop at 2? Too casual. My place tonight? Too forward.
He hadnât asked for a date. He had asked for coordinates and explicit understanding.
You settled on a simple, unambiguous message. You chose a place known for its seclusion on campus groundsâthe small, rarely used gazebo nestled deep in the botanical gardensâand a time when the campus would be mostly deserted.
To: Yunho
Botanical Gardens Gazebo. Monday, 7:30 PM. I want to see you.
You stared at the message for a full minute, your thumb hovering over the âsendâ button. By sending this, you were crossing the line from being an observed subject to an active participant in his dark fantasy. You were inviting the wolf into the house.
You pressed send.
The phone immediately vibrated in your hand. He replied instantly. He was waiting.
From: Yunho
Perfect. Iâll be waiting for you to walk into my sightline.
The next day passed in a blur of nervous anticipation. You ignored Sanaâs texts and spent the day trying to focus on assignments, but every thought circled back to the gazebo.
At 7:00 PM on Monday, you walked the familiar route toward the botanical gardens. The main campus was quiet, the usual throngs of students replaced by the sound of crickets and the rustle of leaves.
The path to the gazebo was winding and obscured by thick hedges. As you rounded the last corner, the small structure came into view. It was empty, bathed in the faint, yellowish glow of a distant ornamental lamppost.
You stopped at the entrance of the gazebo, your heart thumping against your ribs.
âYunho?â you called out softly.
The answer didnât come from the gazebo. It came from behind you.
âYouâre thirty seconds late,â his voice drawled, quiet and amused.
You spun around. He was leaning against the trunk of a large oak tree fifty feet back along the path, perfectly concealed in the shadow, just as he had been that night by your apartment. He hadnât been waiting in the gazebo; he had been watching you walk to the gazebo.
He walked toward you now, emerging from the dark, looking utterly dominant in a simple black t-shirt and dark jeans. There was no trace of the shy student left.
âI knew youâd come,â he said, stopping directly in front of you. The air around him felt charged with intensity.
âI kept my end of the arrangement,â you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. âNow, show me why you were so invested in my routine.â
He didnât speak. He lifted his hand and reached past your shoulder, his fingers brushing the fabric of your jacket. You instinctively held your breath, expecting a kiss, a touch, or a forceful claim. Instead, he smoothly reached into the pocket of your jacket. He withdrew the small, wooden key charm.
âYou brought the key,â he noted, his voice husky. âThatâs a good sign. It means you understand what this is about.â
He held the key up, his eyes fixed on yours. âItâs not just about me watching you, Y/N. Itâs about you letting me. Itâs about the fact that you changed your routine, you noticed me noticing you, and instead of running, you gave me a seat at your table.â
He tossed the key lightly into the air and caught it. âMy dirty intention is this: I want all the control that comes with knowing you the way I do. I want to be the one who decides when your schedule changes. I want to be the one who eliminates any threat that tries to interrupt your focus.â
He took a step closer, crowding your space. âI want to be your obsession, the way you have been mine.â
He reached out and gently pushed a strand of hair back from your face, his touch agonizingly slow. âI know youâre curious, or you wouldnât have come. You want to know how far Iâll go.â
He leaned in, his lips hovering an inch from yours, and the words he spoke were a direct, filthy challenge.
âOpen your eyes wide, Y/N. Look at me. I want to take you right here, in the place where nobody would ever think to look for the quiet architecture student and the brilliant economics major. I want you to feel what itâs like to be utterly exposed to the man who knows your life better than you do.â
You felt the darkness of his intent wash over you, a tidal wave of control and desire. He had waited for this moment, not for a moment of shared romance, but for a moment of complete, unvarnished surrender to his obsession.
You didnât back down. You didnât flinch. You met his hungry gaze and gave him the final, explicit understanding he needed.
âShow me, Yunho,â you whispered, the command dissolving the last barrier between you. âShow me everything.â
Yunhoâs triumphant smile widened, sharp and undeniable. He didnât waste another moment in the garden. He knew the terms had shifted; the public flirtation was over.
âThe gazebo is amateur hour,â he said, his voice husky, filled with a sudden, rough impatience. âYou deserve privacy for this. Complete focus. I didnât spend weeks mastering your life just to fumble it under an ornamental lamp.â
He took your hand, pulling you out of the gazebo and back down the winding path. His grip was firm, radiating the coiled energy of a man in absolute control.
âWhere are we going?â you asked, your voice catching slightly as you tried to keep pace.
âMy car,â he stated simply. âItâs parked off-campus, where it can observe your apartment building without attracting notice.â
He led you through the dark, quiet walkways, his familiarity with the hidden campus perimeter uncanny. You didnât doubt for a second that he knew every shadow, every blind spot, and every exit route.
A few minutes later, you were off the main university property, walking down a narrow side street lined with service vehicles. He stopped by a matte black sedanâunmarked, clean, and blending perfectly into the nighttime urban landscape. It wasnât a flashy car; it was a ghost.
He opened the passenger door, his gaze demanding immediate entry. You slid inside. The interior was pristine, organized, and smelled faintly of leather and something cleanâlike ozone after a storm.
Yunho slipped into the driverâs seat. He didnât start the engine. He simply turned his head to look at you, his eyes reflecting the dashboard lights, burning with suppressed intensity.
âYour place,â he stated. âIâve been mapping it for weeks. Now I get to enter it with permission.â
He started the car, and the drive was silent, punctuated only by the low purr of the engine. He drove with focused precision, navigating the familiar route to your complex. Every turn, every light, was a path he had traveled dozens of times in your wake.
He pulled the car into a space across the street from your building, right where the light was dimmestâthe same tactical positioning he always favored. He killed the engine, and the sudden silence was profound.
âWeâre here,â you whispered.
âI know the code to the main door, and I know your unit number,â he informed you, his voice low and flat. âI know you prefer the deadbolt locked, but you often forget the chain. I know exactly how many steps it takes to get from your front door to your bedroom.â
The detailed knowledge, delivered in the quiet confines of the car, was thrillingly invasive.
He turned off the overhead interior light, plunging the cabin into deeper shadow. He reached across the console, his hand finding the back of your neck. His fingers tangled in your hair, and he gently, firmly, pulled your head toward his.
âThis is the messy part, Y/N,â he murmured against your mouth. âThis isnât about observation anymore. This is about control.â
His kiss was everything you expected: demanding, deep, and utterly possessive. It wasnât soft; it was the kiss of a man claiming territory he had painstakingly surveyed. He tasted like cold night air and the sharp focus of his obsession.
He broke the kiss and opened your door. âWalk with me,â he commanded, his eyes blazing.
You obeyed.
The short walk across the street and into the building felt like a ceremonial procession. Yunho walked with the easy confidence of someone entirely familiar with the space. He quickly entered the door code and held the main entrance open for you.
You led him up the stairs, your hands shaking slightly as you unlocked your apartment door. You stepped aside, ushering the ghost from your routine into the heart of your privacy.
He entered your home without hesitation. His eyes swept across the living roomâthe couch you always sat on, the desk where you studiedânot with curiosity, but with the confirming satisfaction of matching a map to the territory.
âThe bedroom,â he stated.
You led him to the door. As you reached for the knob, his hand landed heavily on your lower back, a silent, powerful assertion of his lead. He twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
In the dim light filtering from the street, the room was exactly as you had left itâand exactly as he had undoubtedly imagined it. Your desk, the open curtain, the unmade bed.
He closed the door behind him, the finality of the latch clicking into place shattering the tense quiet. He didnât rush. He pinned you against the door, his large frame entirely blocking the light. His hands framed your head on the wood, the quiet reverence he had once maintained shattered by the hungry look in his eyes.
âI knew the exact moment you were tired, the exact moment you were frustrated, the exact moment you were alone,â he whispered, his voice vibrating with the intensity of his long-held anticipation. âNow I get to know every single moment you spend in this room.â
He lowered his head, and the careful control he had maintained for weeks finally dissolved into the dirty, consuming passion you had sought to unearth. There were no more words of politeness, no more excuses of coincidence. Just the relentless, demanding force of the man who had finally seized his obsession.
He was here because you invited him, and he was taking control as his price.
The moment his control was absolute, you felt a strange, thrilling surge of power. You hadnât surrendered out of weakness; you had invited him to a confrontation, and you intended to win the psychological war. As his hands framed your head against the cool wood of the door, his eyes dark with unleashed desire, you let a slow, utterly amused smile spread across your face.
âYouâre finally here,â you murmured, your voice low and laced with genuine, reckless amusement.
You reached up, your fingers tangling into the soft, dark hair at his nape, reversing the pressure just slightly. His breath hitched, momentarily stunned by your immediate pivot from receptive to assertive. He was accustomed to total dominance, but you were reminding him that you were an active participantâthe prize that had willingly walked into his trap.
âDid you map out this moment, too, Yunho?â you challenged, your voice breathless. âDid you sketch out the exact expression you wanted to see on my face when you finally stopped pretending?â
His initial shock faded, replaced by an even darker, more appreciative fire in his eyes. He recognized the challenge, and it only intensified his focus.
âEvery line,â he confirmed, his voice rough. âBut your defiance is a better detail than I could have drawn.â
You laughedâa short, sharp burst of sound that was full of mockery and satisfaction. It was the sound of someone whose biggest suspicion had just been confirmed and who was delighted by the chaos.
You tilted your head back, maintaining eye contact, and delivered the observation that dissolved the last shred of his âquiet boyâ facade.
âTell me, Yunho,â you drawled, dragging his full name out slowly. âHow can someone like you be so obsessed with me? A tall, handsome, pretty boy who is being a dirty, big, nasty stalker of mine, huh?â
The accusation, delivered with such intoxicating amusement, hit him like a physical blow. The wordsâdirty, big, nasty stalkerâwere the explicit acknowledgment of his secret life, and hearing them from your mouth, laced with desire instead of terror, was clearly a profound trigger.
He didnât answer with words. He answered with action.
His hands moved from the door to your hips, gripping you with a possessiveness that left no doubt of his intentions. He used his strength to lift you slightly, pressing your body completely against his, eliminating the last bit of physical space.
âYou think this is just about observation?â he demanded, his voice husky. âItâs about collecting. You are the most beautiful, intricate pattern I have ever encountered, and I wanted to own every single piece of information.â
He captured your mouth again, the kiss now frantic, fueled by the intoxicating mix of your surrender and your challenge.
He drove you back across the room, the distance between the door and the bed melting away in a consuming blur. He didnât lift you onto the bed; he brought you down onto the mattress, his body a heavy, solid weight immediately claiming the space above you.
âYou laughed at me,â he murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to look at the amusement still flickering in your eyes. âYou find me funny, Y/N?â
âI find you fascinating,â you corrected, your fingers tracing the sharp, cold lines of his jaw. âAnd I find this control you keep talking about very⊠interesting, educational.â
He let out a low, predatory soundâa mixture of a growl and a gaspâthat demonstrated the precise effect your dominance was having on him. It was clear that this unexpected assertiveness was elevating his obsession.
âThen let me educate you on the true meaning of control,â he countered, his eyes dark with the promise of fulfilling every nasty intention he had held in the shadows. âYou gave me access. You opened the door. Now, youâre mine to study, right here, in the one space I was forbidden to enter.â
He leaned down, burying his face against your neck, his lips finding a sensitive spot. âI told you I was invested. And the greatest investment deserves the longest, most careful study.â
He was staking his claim, finally transitioning from the quiet observer outside your window to the dark, possessive force inside your most private space, confirming the messy, beautiful reality of the relationship you had both secretly craved.
The game of shadows and secrets was officially over, replaced by the raw, demanding reality of their shared space. Yunho was no longer relying on carefully chosen words; his language was as direct and intimate as his actions.
He shifted his weight, pulling back just enough to look down at you, his eyes intensely focused, yet softened by the consuming heat of the moment.
âIâve been trying to imagine what this room looked like at night,â he confessed, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rasp. He reached out and ran the back of his hand along the curve of your hip, a simple gesture that felt like a thorough exploration.
âBut honestly, the reality is much better. Knowing Iâm finally in here, where I know you spend all your private timeâŠâ
You felt a deep flush rise to your skin, the intimacy of his knowledge amplifying the thrill.
âAnd what else did you imagine about me when I was in this room, Yunho?â you pressed, enjoying the power of making him articulate the details of his long-held obsession.
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. âThe worst kind of things,â he admitted, his breath warm and uneven. âI kept thinking about how you look when youâre completely relaxed. I knew you always showered after your evening library sessions. I used to imagine you walking from the bathroom, damp and warm.â
He nipped gently at your earlobe, sending a jolt down your body. âI wanted to be here to see it. And now I am. I want to know exactly how you feel when the brilliant, focused economics major finally lets everything go.â
You arched into his touch, the honesty of his desire compelling. âAnd what if I told you I imagined you, too?â
âDid you?â he asked, a triumphant sound in his voice. He reached down and smoothed the fabric of your jeans over your thigh, a possessive, claiming action.
âDid you imagine the quiet boy from the library being this nasty? Did you think about me waiting for you, thinking about getting my hands on you like this every single time I saw you walking down the street?â
âEvery time,â you confessed, letting out a shaky breath. âIt got harder to study knowing the gorgeous, dark-eyed boy who saw all my secrets was just sitting a few tables away, wanting to take me apart.â
He laughed, a rich, satisfied sound. âGood. Because Iâm done being quiet. And Iâm going to make sure that the next time you see me at the library, all you can think about is me being on top of you, right here.â
He moved his hands deliberately, undoing the button of your jeans with slow, painstaking concentration, watching your face as he did it.
âYouâre going to be wrecked tomorrow morning,â he promised, his voice low and firm. âAnd every time you walk past my corner in the library, you're going to remember exactly how I made you feelâright down to the last, messy little detail.â
The shift was swift and decisive. Yunho moved with the practiced, confident efficiency of someone who had planned this exact sequence for weeks. His movements were precise, lacking any fumbling uncertaintyâthe hallmark of the meticulous observer.
He slid his hands down, one supporting the curve of your thigh, the other gliding to the center of your heat. His long, steady fingers found the delicate, swollen center of your desire, applying an immediate, focused pressure. He began to stroke, slow and deliberate, treating the action with the gravity of a complex ritual.
Your breath hitched, the sudden, sharp sensation slicing through the heady tension.
His eyes never left yours, his gaze heavy with triumph as he felt the immediate, physical proof of your desire. He watched the slight twitch in your jaw and the widening of your eyes, documenting every reaction.
He started to gather the moisture that was quickly surfacing, circling the slickness with a demanding rhythm.
âYou love it when I touch you like this, donât you?â he breathed, the question not a query but a statement of absolute knowledge, confirming his ability to pinpoint your core vulnerability.
âIâŠâ You struggled to form a coherent thought, the sensation too intense to allow for a witty retort. You could only manage a hoarse whisper, driven by pure instinct. âI want your tongue inside me.â
The command, raw and primal, struck him exactly right. The confident smirk returned, darkening with a potent satisfaction. He had driven you past the point of intellectual sparring and into the realm of base need.
âA simple request,â he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. âAnd I always fulfill your requests, now that they are mine to grant.â
He lowered his body, kneeling between your legs on the mattress. The position put you completely in command of his head, your fingers already reaching instinctively for his dark hair. He didnât immediately plunge in. He held the focused rhythm on your center, gathering the last slick trails of moisture onto his fingers. He brought them to his mouth, tasting the proof of your arousal, his eyes locked on yours.
Then, with a final, deliberate movement that seemed to commit every ounce of his focused energy, he lowered his head.
The flat, warm expanse of his tongue grazed the delicate, eager skin, a shock of heat and texture that shattered the remaining control you possessed. He tasted you thoroughly, mapping the terrain he had only observed from a distance. You convulsed, your back arching off the mattress. Your hands instinctively buried themselves in his hair, gripping the thick strands as a desperate anchor against the storm.
âFuck, Yunho,â you choked out, the admission a desperate plea. âI need you so bad.â
The sound of your desperate plea and the feel of your hands tight in his hair were the ultimate affirmation of his control. Yunho devoured the need in your voice, letting the intensity of the moment wash over him.
He deepened the contact, the meticulous study shifting into a consuming worship. He used his tongue and lips with an expert precision that suggested not only talent but also thorough, long-term fantasy planning. Every shift in pressure, every exploration of your inner heat, felt calibrated to dismantle the last vestiges of your composure.
You were no longer the calculated challenger; you were the subject fully immersed in the experience he had meticulously designed. You could only make choked sounds of pleasure, your fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair, pulling slightly to convey the urgency of your mounting climax.
He paused his rhythmic focus, his breath hot against your sensitized skin. He lifted his head just slightly, forcing you to acknowledge the power he held.
âYouâre unraveling,â he noted, his voice thick with satisfied desire. âThe routine is broken. Thatâs what I wanted to see.â
He didnât wait for a response, plunging back down with renewed intensity. He applied a sustained, demanding pressure to the most sensitive point, pushing you further and faster toward the edge. You cried out, the sound swallowed by the pillow beneath your head, your hips bucking up against his face in an instinctual, desperate surrender. The feeling was a blinding rush, a total, beautiful collapse of all your careful boundaries.
As the aftershocks faded, you lay panting, utterly boneless, the reality of the quiet boy who had just brought you to the brink overwhelming your senses. Yunho lifted himself, his expression dark and possessive, a smear of your heat shining on his lower lip. He leaned in, his gaze burning with triumph.
âYou look beautiful when your control breaks. You look beautiful when youâre like this,â he murmured, his voice thick with the evidence of his dirty intention fulfilled.
He pushed himself up, climbing over you onto the bed, his body solid and heavy. He was breathing hard, the exertion showing in the sharp angles of his collarbones and the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.
âThat,â he stated, pinning your wrists gently to the pillow above your head, âwas for the quiet boy who had to wait. Now, letâs see what the dirty, nasty stalker does.â
He didnât need to be asked twice. The sight of your flushed, desperate face was all the permission he required. With swift, economical movementsâthe same efficiency he used for a takedown or a complex drawingâYunho stripped away his remaining clothes. The sight of his body, tall and lean and utterly dominant, was staggering.
He was back over you in an instant, positioning his weight with familiar, controlled precision. The final piece of his arsenal was revealed: long, thick, and perfectly rigid. He positioned himself at your core, his tip resting right in the messy, slick center of your arousalâthe prize he had just collected.
He paused there, savoring the final, electric moment of anticipation. He looked directly into your eyes, his gaze heavy and possessive, his voice a low, demanding tease.
âCan you take me, my love?â he challenged, the pet name slipping out with natural, alarming ease, heavy with ownership. He pressed his weight slightly, testing your readiness. âLooks like you need to get prepped againââ
The suggestion of delay was unbearable, a final, cruel flourish of his control. You bucked your hips up against his, desperate to close the final, agonizing distance.
âNo! No, please. I need you now!â The plea was ragged, raw, stripped of all artifice, giving him the ultimate confirmation of his power over you.
A powerful, conquering grin flashed across his face. He had won.
With a final, deep surge, Yunho drove himself into you, a sudden, powerful invasion that completely filled the space he had spent weeks observing and coveting. You cried out, a mixture of shock and sheer, overwhelming relief. He was solid, hot, and utterly consuming, the perfect counterpoint to the hollow anticipation of the last few weeks.
He paused, resting on his elbows, buried deep inside you. He didnât move immediately, instead letting the heavy, beautiful weight of the moment settle, his dark eyes fixed entirely on yours.
âThere,â he breathed, his voice thick with triumph, staring into your soul. âNow you know exactly what I was waiting for.â
The sheer physical sensation of him finally inside you was staggering, replacing the months of intense, calculated observation with a primal, undeniable connection. He was still, savoring the feeling of being completely interlocked, but you seized the moment, reclaiming the psychological edge you briefly lost.
You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, anchoring him to you, and looked up at him through heavy eyelids, a slow, deep smile spreading across your faceâa smile of profound, satisfied command.
âMmm, good boy,â you purred, the term âboyâ deliberately diminishing the fierce, controlled man above you, a delicious final piece of mockery. You raked your fingernails lightly down the tense, sweating muscle of his back.
âYouâre a very patient boy for me. IâI am going to giveâhah⊠a reward for you.â
The heavy sound of your pleasure and the unexpected praise made his eyesâalready dark with passionâwiden with an intense mixture of shock and arousal. He shifted slightly, the deep friction bringing a guttural groan from his chest.
âYeah?â he managed, his voice strained with anticipation, his eyes searching yours for the nature of the prize. âWhat is it?â
You chuckled, a low, breathy sound that vibrated deep in your chest. You lifted your hips slightly, initiating the first, slow, claiming grind.
âCreampie,â you whispered, letting the word hang in the air, thick and filthy. âMilk me dry, Yunho. Thatâs my reward for being a good boy.â
The effect was instantaneous and electrifying. His breath hitched completely. His eyes widened further, snapping open in genuine, unfiltered excitementâa raw, exposed emotion that was more intimate than any of his confessions. The methodical predator was suddenly replaced by a deeply aroused man whose dark, nasty desires were being not just accepted but actively escalated.
He remained completely still for a moment, absorbing the magnitude of the proposition.
âAâare you on pills?â he asked, the question laced with a sudden, sharp, almost frantic concern for your safety, the methodical planner briefly overriding the demanding lover.
The flicker of care, the immediate return to planning, was endearing and utterly compelling.
âOf course, I am,â you confirmed, giving a firm squeeze with your inner thighs. âI didnât invite my stalker into my house without prepping the house first, Yunho.â
The relief that washed over his features was palpable, quickly morphing back into profound, conquering excitement. He ducked his head, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy and uneven.
âFuck. Oâokay,â he agreed, the hesitation gone, replaced by a demanding, fervent energy.
The permission given, he finally unleashed the intensity he had been holding back. He pulled your legs higher onto his shoulders, tilting your pelvis up into a position of absolute submission and optimal access. The deep, heavy connection intensified immediately.
He began to move, slow at first, then building a steady, powerful rhythm. His strokes were deep, deliberate, and relentless, penetrating you with the same thoroughness he used to analyze your schedule. He moved like a man making up for lost time, his hands gripping your hips with fierce, demanding possession, dictating every angle, every thrust.
He leaned down, his mouth finding your neck, his teeth gently scraping your skin, a gesture of absolute claiming.
âYou really are the most beautiful, most unpredictable person,â he confessed, the praise wrapped in the language of his obsession. âYou just handed me the final, dirtiest secret. And Iâm going to make sure this reward is one youâll never forget.â
The promise fueled his movements. He drove into you with increasing speed and depth, chasing the climax he had earned with weeks of patience. You could only grip his shoulders, lost in the overwhelming surge of pleasure, fully immersed in the messy, intoxicating reality of being utterly possessed by the boy who had once only watched you from the shadows.
The initial surge of climax barely registered before Yunho was pulling back slightly, shifting his hips, and driving back into you with a consuming, demanding intensity. The energy in the room had transitioned from the thrill of transgression into a sustained, heavy rhythm of pure physical claim.
He was relentless, his movements deep and perfectly suited to the contours of your body, as if he had physically mapped this friction during his weeks of observation. The bed beneath you began to creak slightly, protesting the violent, passionate urgency of his possession.
Your breathing was ragged, mingling with his deep, strained groans. Sweat beaded on his temples and the taut lines of his shoulders, wetting the skin beneath his dark hair. You were both slick, glistening in the faint light filtering from the streetâa beautiful, messy testament to the breakdown of their previous barriers.
He pulled back his head, staring down at you, his eyes blazing with an intoxicating mix of exertion and ownership.
âI told you I was invested,â he reminded you, his voice low and vibrating with effort. âAnd I donât believe in half-measures. I waited so long for this access, Y/N. Iâm going to make sure every nerve ending knows it was worth the patience.â
He drove into you again, the impact forceful and consuming. You cried out, clutching his back, your fingers digging into the muscle. He leaned down, whispering promises that cemented his dirty intentions, his voice rough with absolute desire.
âIâm gonna milk you dry, Y/N,â he promised, the words a raw, possessive threat. He increased the speed, pushing you past exhaustion into pure, frantic sensation. âIâll make sure you wonât walk properly tomorrow. It will be better if I have you in my arms all day. My dick inside you all day.â
The fantasy was the ultimate act of control: reducing your physical autonomy to ensure your absolute dependence on him. The possessiveness was overwhelming, but in the heat of the moment, it was exactly what your reckless curiosity had craved.
The thought of being unable to walk, of being forced into his care, sent another wave of intense pleasure through you. You answered his threat with a desperate, guttural sound of affirmation, urging him faster, deeper.
He groaned, finally relinquishing the last vestiges of his control, driven entirely by the reward you promised. His pace became a feverish sprint, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the small room, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air.
He drove in one last, profound thrust, his body tightening, and with a final, ragged shoutâa sound of triumph and releaseâhe flooded you completely, fulfilling the reward you had promised your good boy, pouring the heavy, hot evidence of his absolute claim deep inside you.
He collapsed onto your chest, heavy and breathing hard, his body drenched, his presence a warm, immovable weight. The creampie was complete.
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the sound of your shared, labored breathing. He lifted his head one last time, his dark eyes looking down at your face, now softened by exhaustion and pleasure.
âMy love,â he whispered, the possessive term ringing with finality. âThis is just the first unscheduled study session.â
Yunho remained heavy on your chest, his presence a comforting, possessive anchor in the post-climax exhaustion. The air in the room was thick and humid, saturated with the evidence of their chaotic, intense coupling.
You ran your fingers through his damp hair, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw, the reality of the last few hours finally sinking in. The library ghost was a ferocious, demanding presence in your bed.
You nudged his shoulder gently. âFuck study session,â you murmured, the exhaustion lending a rough edge to your voice. âYouâre coming here for me, nothing else.â
He lifted his head, his dark eyes still hazy with lingering pleasure, but snapping back to awareness quickly. He didnât deny the hunger but he did appreciate your blunt clarity.
âMm,â he hummed, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated against your collarbone. âStraightforward, I see. You still refuse to give me any soft edges, even when youâre completely destroyed.â
He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, his gaze just as intense and consuming as it was when he was watching you from across the library. He reached up, his thumb tenderly wiping a damp strand of hair from your forehead.
âYouâre right, of course,â he admitted, his voice quiet, almost intimate. âThe economics and the architecture are just camouflage. I was coming here for you. The study sessions were just the required pre-requisite for this final assignment.â
He lowered his head, pressing a lingering, possessive kiss to your lips. âAnd now that I have the key, and youâve given me the code, I think we can dispense with the long walks home and the careful placement of shadows. Donât you agree, Y/N?â
He didnât wait for an answer. He settled down, shifting his heavy, tired body until he was spooning you tightly, one arm thrown possessively across your stomach, his breath warm and slow against the back of your neck. He pulled the sheets higher, cocooning you both in the damp warmth.
âYou know, you could have just introduced yourself in the cafeteria,â you whispered, a final, lazy challenge escaping your lips.
He chuckledâa low, satisfied sound that rumpled your hair. âAnd risk being just another batchmate? Whereâs the fun in that? I needed to know your patterns first. I needed to know exactly how I could dismantle your control.â
He paused, pressing a light kiss to the sensitive skin behind your ear. âBesides, if Iâd just said hello, I wouldnât have gotten to hear you call me a âdirty, nasty stalkerâ while I was inside you. That was the perfect reward.â
You didnât argue. You were too tired, too sated, and too consumed by the exhilarating, terrifying reality of your current situation. You closed your eyes, trusting the man who had meticulously tracked your life to keep you safe through the night. The last thought before sleep claimed you was the cold, hard certainty that your routine was permanently altered. There would be no more quiet study sessions, no more âcoincidences,â only the new, demanding presence of Jeong Yunho, the patient collector who had finally claimed his prize.
Synopsis: All you wanted was a quiet night while your gamer roommate screamed at Valorant. What you didnât expect was for the Wi-Fi to die, the rage to kick in, and your hormones to betray you spectacularly. One minute heâs cursing at his monitor, the next youâre wondering if asking your roommate for a âfavourâ counts as friendship or a really bad life choice.
Genre: smut with plot, failed attempt on comedy
Trigger Warnings: explicit sexual content (!mdni!), consensual sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p in v, protected sex (condom), some dirty talk, praise, nipple play, honestly nothing too crazy?, yunho calls the reader good girl once, hand kink???
WC: 7k
Authorâs Note: hi.... so, ekhem, the long-awaited smut⊠is FINALLY HERE đł IN MY DEFENCE! LISTEN. I was whatever Yeosangâs username is (im_ovulation) and⊠WELL. ITâS YUNHO, OKAY?? do you think i could resist him??? do you??? NO. and letâs be honest, i know i feed you angst on a daily basis, so this?? this smut?? it comes once in a super rare blue moon. savour it. worship it. burn it into your brain. youâre welcome.
side note: beta reading and smut editing was done by @pixlpxie đđ» so thank her too because if she hadnât guided me through this⊠it would have been an absolute disaster.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââYunho had been holed up in his bedroom for hours, completely sucked into another Valorant match. You could hear the furious clicking of his keyboard and the occasional curse slipping through the door. It was typical of himâwhen he wasnât working, he threw himself into gaming like his life depended on it. Usually, you let him be. Roommates needed their own space, and his hobby kept him out of your hair.
But today, you were restless in a way that had nothing to do with boredom.
Youâd tried sinking into a show, flipping through a book, scrolling your phoneânothing stuck. An uncomfortable warmth curled low in your stomach, the kind that made you overly aware of your own body and how alone you were in it. You shifted on the couch for what felt like the hundredth time, but even the soft brush of fabric against your skin made everything worse. You groaned into your hands. Of all days for your hormones to riot, it had to be a day when you were stuck at home with an infuriatingly attractive man who made noises that were borderline pornographic when he played games.
Your thoughts drifted against your willâbroad shoulders hunched toward a screen, sleeves pushed up over forearms, fingers dancing across his keyboard with focused precision.
Youâd pretended not to notice details like that before. Being attracted to your roommate was already dangerous territoryâyou didnât need your imagination turning it into a full production.
Still, it betrayed you.
You caught yourself picturing what heâd look like leaning back in his chair, stretching that long body, maybe glancing at you with that half-smile he got when he was feeling smug about a win. And worseâyou imagined what it would be like if he actually knew what kind of mood you were in.
A shout of triumph erupted from his room. You jolted and then immediately cursed yourself. He really was in there having the time of his life while you suffered like the worldâs neediest houseplant.
You flopped onto the couch with a dramatic exhale. Maybe you could bribe him out of his cave with food. Or pretend you needed help reaching something stupidly high. Or âaccidentallyâ make enough noise that heâd come check on you.
Another muffled âyes!â came from behind his doorâhappy, breathy, entirely too easy to reinterpret if you let your mind go there.
Living with Yunho was supposed to make splitting rent easierânot slowly destroy you from the inside out. If he would just leave the apartment for a few hours, you could deal with this in peace, get it out of your system and move on. But with him on the other side of the wall, every thought felt too loud, every breath too obvious. Trying to take care of things with him so close wasnât even on the table.
You buried your face in the couch cushion and groaned into it, hoping the fabric would muffle your misery. The apartment suddenly felt too small, like the walls were closing in with every muffled sound he made. You thought about taking a cold shower but even that felt riskyâwhat if he heard the water and got curious? What if he knocked on the door to ask something stupid, like if youâd seen his charger?
Another shoutâvictory, probablyârattled from his room. You glared at the wall like it was personally mocking you.
You were debating whether running a quick errand would help clear your head when his bedroom door finally creaked open. Your whole body tensed. Footsteps padded down the hallwayâslow, lazy, totally unsuspecting. A moment later, he emerged in the doorway of the living room, stretching one arm over his head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a strip of skin.
âThought you went out,â he said casually, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His voice was raspy from hours of not talking.
âI didnât,â you managed, hoping your face didnât give anything away.
He nodded, eyes still half on whatever match heâd just finished. âIâm grabbing water. Want anything?â
Yes, you thought. Absolutely not water.
But out loud, you cleared your throat and said, âIâm good.â
He hummed in acknowledgment and headed toward the kitchen. You kept your eyes glued to the TVâeven though it wasnât onâbecause watching him move around the apartment in that loose, sleep-worn shirt and those grey sweatpants was not going to help your situation.
A cabinet opened. A glass clinked. The faucet ran. You focused on breathing like a normal human being.
Then, because the universe apparently hated you, he called out, âYou okay? You look kinda flushed.â
You stiffened. âIâm fine. Just warm.â
He poked his head back into the living room, brows slightly raised. âI can turn the AC up?â
âNo!â you blurted, too fast. âItâs fine. Seriously.â
He blinked, then shrugged like he couldnât be bothered to figure you out right now. âAlright. Holler if you change your mind.â
And with that, he padded back down the hall, door closing behind him with a soft click.
You exhaled like youâd been underwater.
Great. Back to square oneâwith even more images you didnât ask for now elbowing their way into your brain.
Would it really be that crazy to ask him?
The thought slipped in quiet and shameless, and you froze like youâd been caught thinking it out loud. You and Yunho were close. Closer than most roommates ever got. Months of shared takeout, late-night movie marathons, venting on the couch at 2 a.m.âyou trusted him. You were comfortable around him.
Too comfortable, maybe.
The idea sat there, bold and reckless. If anyone would take you seriouslyâeven in the most painfully awkward scenarioâitâd be him. Heâd never made you feel judged for anything before. And wasnât that what friends were for? Favours, help, honesty?
Except this wasnât asking him to pick up milk or plunge the sink.
You sank deeper into the couch, pressing your palms to your burning face. You couldnât even imagine forming the words without combusting. But then your brain, messy traitor that it was, whispered: he wouldnât have to say yes. He could laugh it off. Pretend it never happened. You could blame hormones or delusion or heatstroke. Youâd both move on, maybe with a few weeks of mutual avoidance, but youâd survive.
And if he didnât laugh?
If he actually considered itâ
You shut that door in your mind so fast it nearly came off the hinges.
Still, the question lingered like static in your blood: was it really that out of bounds to want something from someone you already trusted with so much of your life?
You stared at the hallway, at the sliver of light under his door.
You were not going to ask.
Probably.
Maybe.
God, you needed help.
The floor creaked in the hall, and you shot upright like youâd been caught with contraband thoughts. Before you could collect yourself, his door flew open with a bang.
âWhat the actual fuââ Yunho stormed halfway into the living room, face twisted with raw frustration. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle ticking beneath his skin, and a vein pulsed visibly along the side of his neck, pronounced and throbbing with each angry breath. âDid the Wi-Fi just die completely?â His voice was louder than usual, sharp-edged and bristling. âI was in the middle of a fucking match and everything crashed! We were winningâI had the last kill lined up andââ He raked a hand through his hair roughly, making it stick up at odd angles, his chest heaving with the kind of anger that came from hours of buildup suddenly snapping.
You blinked at him, words dissolving in your throat. The flush across his cheekbones, the way his shoulders were tensed and drawn up, the visible strain in his neck⊠Your brain, scrambled beyond repair, reached for the first possible lifeline.
âDo you⊠have any single friends?â you blurted.
Silence.
His brows pulled together slowly, like he was running diagnostics. âWhat?â
You wanted to crawl into the couch cushions and never return. âI meanâuhâjust curious. You know. Forâuh. Research.â
âFor⊠research,â he repeated, expression unreadable. Then, as if deciding not to question it too hard, he chuckled under his breath and shook his head. âYouâre so weird sometimes.â
He padded back toward his room, muttering something about restarting the router.
The second his door clicked shut again, you dropped your face into your hands and groaned. Out of all the possible things to say, that was what your brain had offered? Fantastic. Just fantastic.
You told yourself to just sit there. Be normal. Pretend the last thirty seconds hadnât happened.
But normal had packed its bags hours ago.
Before your dignity could wrestle your mouth shut, you called out, âWait!â
His door stopped halfway through closing. Yunho leaned back out, one hand on the frame. âYeah?â
Your brain fired off exactly zero sensible sentences, so you picked the worst possible one.
âAre you⊠leaving tonight?â
He stared. Not even suspiciousâjust confused in the purest, most innocent way. âLeaving?â he echoed. âLike⊠the apartment?â
You nodded too fast. âYeah. Or, like, hanging out with someone. Or going to a friendâs. Or⊠I donât know. Doing something thatâs not here.â
His face did a slow-motion frown, like he was trying to load context that didnât exist. âWhy would I go anywhere? Itâs almost midnight.â
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Tried again. âJust asking.â
He squinted a little. Not accusingâjust baffled. âAre you okay? Youâre being weird. Like, weirder than usual.â
âIâm fine,â you lied, probably unconvincingly.
He held up his hands in surrender. âAlright. Iâm gonna reset the damn router and finish my game.â And with that, he disappeared back into his room, door clicking shut while you sat there wondering if spontaneous combustion was a thing that could be willed into existence.
The problem was that he looked concerned. Not annoyed. Not amused. Just⊠worried. And that somehow made everything worse.
You went into his gaming room before your brain could veto it. His chair was still spun halfway toward the door, his monitor glowing with a paused match. You stood in the middle of the room like a stray cat having an episode.
He looked at you with raised eyebrows. âOkay,â he said carefully, âstart from the top. Whatâs going on with you?â
You opened your mouth, absolutely intending to lie. Something vague and dismissible. Something recoverable.
What came out instead was:
âIâm too horny to function and you wonât leave!â
Silence.
Not quietâdead. Like the world buffer-spun and disconnected.
Yunho just stared. His brain visibly bluescreened.
You slapped both hands over your face and let out a noise that sounded like a ghost getting tasered. âOh my GOD, I canât believe I said that, please kill me, actually kill meââ
He made a sound. A soft, stunned laugh of disbelief. âWaitâwhat?â
You turned away like maybe if you didnât see him, he didnât exist. âI told you Iâm having a crisis! My body is⊠doing stuff! And youâre over here making noises through the wall likeâI donât know! Sound porn?!â
âI was playing VALORANT!â he said, both horrified and defensive.
âYou grunt when youâre focused!â you accused, pointing at him like that was a crime.
âIâwhat was I supposed to do, stop breathing?!â
âYes! No! I donât know! Move out!â
âThat escalatedââ
âI told you I needed you to leave!â you wailed. âI was trying to handle it like a normal, sane person but I canât do that when youâre in the next room moaning every time you get headshottedââ
âI DO NOT MOANââ
âYOU DO ENOUGH.â
You were breathing like youâd just outrun the cops. He looked like he was considering reincarnation.
Finally, he raked a hand through his hair and said, weakly, âSo⊠just to confirm⊠youâreâlikeâturned on and Iâm the problem?â
You threw your hands up. âCongratulations, youâve solved the mystery.â
He made another noiseâsomewhere between a laugh and a stunned exhale. His ears were bright red. âAnd your solution was to ask me if I had single friends?!â
âI WAS SCRAMBLING!â
âAnd then you tried to evict me from my own apartment for the night?â
âYes! Because I have self-control! Until I donât!â
He just⊠stared at you for a long, long second.
Then, very quietly, very carefully, he said, âYou know Iâm single too⊠right?â
And THAT was the moment your soul evacuated your body.
You swore something in you tightened at his wordsâan involuntary pulse of heat that made you want to sink through the floor. Your mouth went dry. You just stared at him like an idiot, eyes wide, brain blank, body unhelpful.
Yunho, of all people, was blushing. Not a little, eitherâhis ears were red, the tips of them practically glowing, and colour was creeping up his neck like heâd been caught doing something illegal. He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out a touch higher than usual. âWhy are you looking at me like that?â
You blinked once. Twice. âBecauseâI didnâtâYouâreâYou canât just SAY that.â
âI was trying to help!â he shot back, flustered and defensive and very much avoiding eye contact. âYou were yelling at me to evacuate the premises so you couldâhandleâwhatever, and Iâ I donât know! I panicked!â
You dragged a hand down your face. âYou canât just⊠offer yourself like a make-up sample.â
âI DIDNâTââ He stopped, groaned into his palm, and muttered, âOkay, maybe I did a little.â
Silence crawled back in, thick and buzzing. Your heart was thudding like it was planning an escape. His gaze flicked to you, then away, then back again, like he couldnât decide if looking at you made this better or worse. Finally, he said, quietly, âSo⊠what do we do now?â
Your brain responded with static.
Your body responded with betrayal.
And you? You just stood there, staring at him like a glitching sim, praying the Earth would develop a sinkhole under your feet immediately.
Youâre dying inside. Each second that passes is torture, and the way heâs standing thereâuncertain, flustered, his fingers nervously tapping against his thighâis making everything worse. When did his hands become so goddamn fascinating? The way his fingers flex, the veins that trace up his wrists, the little nervous habits youâve never noticed before are suddenly the most distracting thing in the universe.
He clears his throat. âMaybe we should just forget aboutââ
âI need you to fuck me right now,â you blurt out, the words practically exploding from your mouth, âor just tell me which one of your friends would be willing to. Because Iâm losing my damn mind.â
Yunhoâs eyes go wide, mouth dropping open in shock. He stares at you like youâve just grown a second head. âIâwhat?â he stammers, his voice cracking. âMy friends? You want me toââ He stops, processing what you just said. âWait, did you just ask me toââ
âYes,â you say, past the point of embarrassment. âI did. Because apparently subtlety isnât working.â
He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly, and you swear the simple gesture sends another wave of heat through your body. Youâre going to combust if he keeps doing things like that.
âYou...â His voice catches. âYou canât just say that.â Something shifts in his expressionâa flash of heat behind the shock. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and itâs such a small gesture but it makes your stomach do a free-fall.
âI just did,â you say, and your voice doesnât even sound like yours anymore. âLook, Iâm going insane here. You keep doingââ you gesture vaguely at all of him, ââTHAT.â
âWhat am I doing?â he asks, genuinely confused.
âEXISTING!â you practically shout. âStanding there with your stupid hands and your stupid face andâgod, you were just playing with your hair and I swear I almost launched myself at you.â
His eyes widen fractionally, and thenâoh noâhis lips curve into something thatâs almost a smirk. Almost. âSo...â he says slowly, âyouâre saying Iâm the problem?â
âYes! No! I donât know!â You run your hands through your hair in frustration. âIâm the problem. My body is the problem. The fact that you wonât stop fidgeting with your hands is the problem.â
And then, because apparently youâve lost all control, you point accusingly at his fingers, which are currently drumming a nervous pattern against his thigh. âTHAT. That right there! Stop it!â
He immediately freezes, looking down at his own hand like itâs betrayed him. âIâm not doing anything!â
âYouâre breathing too loud!â
âIâmââ he sputters, âI canât control that!â
âExactly my point! â you exclaim, throwing your hands up. âSo either help me solve this problem or point me to someone who will, because I am DYING here.â
Thereâs a split second where time seems to stop. Yunho is staring at you, his pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Before you can process whatâs happening, he moves.
In two quick strides, heâs in front of you. His hands cup your face, rough and urgent, and then his mouth crashes against yours. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss as he walks you backward until your back hits the wall.
âIs this what you want?â he growls against your mouth, his voice so low it sends shivers down your spine. âYou want me to fuck you senseless? Make you forget your own name?â
The sudden change makes your knees weak.
Your answer is to grab his shirt and pull him back to you, kissing him hard. âShut up and do it already,â you whisper.
You found his lips again, hungry and desperate. There was no time to waste. Your mouth met his wild and uninhibitedâa delicious mess of pure want. You didn't care that your kiss betrayed a hunger that left no room for grace. But could you be blamed? Every single touch burned you from the inside out.
Something in him snaps. Your soft, desperate sounds pull him under completely. The kiss turns fierceâyour mouths clashing, breath mingling, tongues chasing each other in a dizzying rhythm. His hands roam everywhere at onceâup your sides, over your hipsâbefore gripping firmly and lifting you as if you weigh nothing.
You gasp, a small, startled sound that quickly melts into a moan when your back hits the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer, the friction between you sparking heat that steals your breath. The world narrows to this momentâhis body against yours, the taste of his mouth, and the hunger that refuses to be tamed.
He trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, teeth grazing the rapid beat of your pulse. His hands slip beneath your clothes, and the moment his skin meets yours, you swear nothing else has ever felt like it. His touch is addictive leaving searing trails across your skin that make you gasp and arch into him, desperate for more.
Youâre burning from the inside out, every touch sending electric currents through your body. Yet even through the fire, a shiver runs down your spineânot from cold, but from the dizzying rush of it all. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you up with effortless strength. You barely notice how hard heâs gripping you until you feel the dull ache blooming under his fingertipsâmarks you know will linger, proof of how completely youâve given in.
His breath is hot against your ear when he murmurs, âBeen thinking about this for monthsâŠâ The confession sends a shiver straight through you. You canât hold back the sound that escapes your throat when his fingers slide higher, teasing at the edge of your underwear. Your head falls back against the wall, offering yourself up as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck.
âAbout how your body would feel under mine,â he whispers between kisses, his lips dragging heat across your skin. âHow youâd taste.â Each word is punctuated by another mark, another slow press of his mouth, until you can feel every bruise blooming where his lips have been.
He doesnât seem to care who might see the evidence laterâbut you know youâll wear each one like a secret, a quiet kind of pride.
His mouth lingers against your neck, a low sound rumbling from deep in his chest. âYou have no idea what you do to me,â he murmurs, the words half-growl, half-confession. Every movement is firm, deliberateâclaiming, not asking.
âNeed you...â you gasp as his hands slide over the curve of your ass, squeezing possessively, earning a moan from you. âIâve neverâahânever needed anything this badly.â A sharp sting followsâhe canât stop himself from slapping your ass again. The faint burning on your skin is addicting.
Yunhoâs teeth graze your earlobe. âTell me how badly,â he demands, his voice rough with desire. âTell me what you want me to do to you.â He kneads the soft flesh in his hands a bit more, only to move them up to the most dangerous zone, where it feels like you are about to burst. He drags his long fingers along your skin till he finds your heated core. The slight touch makes your stomach flipâlike free-falling.
His fingers tease at your entrance through the thin fabric of your underwear, and you whimper, pressing against him desperately. The evidence of his arousal is hard against your core, making your entire body throb with anticipation. You curse under your breath, not sure if Yunho caught it or not.
âI wantâ â Your breath catches, a shaky moan leaving your lips as his thumb circles exactly where you need it most. It's slow and deliberate, each move tantalising. The fabricâno matter how thinâkeeps you from feeling him completely. It's torturous, like chasing a mirage. A moan rumbles deep in your throat. Shivers run down your spine. You try to continue. âI want to feel you inside me. Want you to make me scream your name.â Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him hiss. The pain seems to fuel him, you catch him smirking â he shifts his grip to support your weight with one arm while the other finally, finally pushes your underwear aside. The chill air hits your warm core for a brief second, making you shiver.
âYouâre so wet,â he murmurs, his slender fingers meeting with your warm slick, voice filled with wonder as his fingers slide through your folds.
âItâs your faultâ You roll your hips against his hand, seeking more friction. âTake responsibility for it.â He plays with your aching bud a little more, making you squirm with need.Â
He captures your mouth again, swallowing your moans as one finger slides inside you. He wasnât rushing not to hurt you, letting you take him in with delicacy. You inhale sharply, the length of his finger alone takes your breath away. The stretch is exquisite, but not nearly enough. âAnother,â you plead against his lips. âMore, pleaseââ
He loves hearing you beg. He obliges gladly, adding a second finger, curling them in a way that makes your vision blur at the edges. âLike this?â he asks, smirking as you cry out. âIs this what youâve been so desperate for?â His fingers move inside you, in and out, almostâbut not quiteâtouching where you need him most.
âDonâtâahâdonât tease,â you manage to say in between pants, your voice breaking as his thumb finds your clit, already swollen with arousal. âIâve been thinking about your hands on me for so long.â
His rhythm falters for a split second. âYou have?â The question sounds genuinely surprisedâalmost vulnerableâdespite the position you're in.
âYeah,â you admit, cupping his face and forcing him to meet your gaze. âEvery time you walk around shirtless after a shower. Every time I hear you through these paper-thin walls.â You roll your hips against his hand for emphasis. âEvery. Fucking. Time.â
The confession is the last dropâthe leftover inhibition dissolving in an ocean of primal desire. Without warning, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss. Before you can protest, heâs carrying you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
Yunho lays you on the bed with surprising gentleness, then stands back to pull his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. As the light reflects off his skin, you realise his form is no different than the ancient statues people gaze at with awe. The sight of his bare torsoâall lean muscle and smooth skinâmakes your mouth go dry. You canât help but watch the subtle flex of his muscles, your gaze lingering on the v-line that disappears into his sweatpants. Each move feels like an invitation to touch him. Your fingers instinctively find his body, trailing down the lines the light contours to perfection. He isnât a game your mind is playingâheâs flesh and bone in front of youâyet it feels surreal.
âTake your clothes off,â he says, pulling you out of your deep haze, his voice a command that sends heat pooling between your thighs. âI want to see all of you.â
You comply eagerly, tugging your shirt over your head and shimmying out of your bottoms. His gaze is heavy on your skin, tracking every movement as you reveal yourself to him.
When youâre down to just your underwear, you hesitate, suddenly feeling a flash of vulnerability. Yunho seems to sense your uncertainty. He leans down to press a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips. âSo fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.â
The confession makes your heart stutter. âYun...â
âLet me take care of you,â he whispers, pressing kisses down your neck, your collarbone. âLet me make you feel good.â And you surrender to him.
His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving to unhook your bra. He helps you slip it off, then kisses his way down to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure racing through you. Your nipples harden under his attention. His mouth works wondersâsucking the soft skin as if he's been parched and deprived, flicking the hard bud with deliberate strokes of his tongue. Your moans overpower every other sound in the room.
You arch into him, one hand fisting in his hair while the other grips his shoulder hard enough that your nails dig crescents into his skin. âMore,â you gasp, the word barely coherent as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same devoted attention. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, your body begging for him to touch you where you need it most.
He lavishes attention on one breast, then the other, alternating between gentle licks and firmer suction that has you writhing beneath him. He bites down tooâsmall, sharp nips that leave subtle red marks you know will darken by morning. All the while, his hands explore, learning every curve and dip of your body like he's memorising you by touch.
When his mouth travels lower, pressing hot kisses across your stomach, your breathing becomes shallow with anticipation. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you for permission.
âPlease,â is all you can say, lifting your hips to help him.
He slowly drags the fabric down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel exposed in the most exhilarating way. Once youâre completely bare, he takes a moment just to look at you, he studies each and every curve of your sweet body, memorising the landscape of your figure with a devouring gaze.
A possessive smile creeps on his lips slowly, âSpread your legs for me,â he says, his voice hoarse with want. You comply, knees falling open as he settles between them.
The first touch of his breath against your core makes you shiver.
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted to taste you,â he confesses, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. âHow many nights I was thinking about making you come on my tongue.â Each word is rewarded with kisses on your sensitive skin. The closer he gets, more you start to tremble with anticipation.Â
The words alone nearly push you over the edge. âThen do it,â you challenge, tangling your fingers in his hair. âShow me.â You pull on the soft strands as you pant.
His eyes flash with determination before he lowers his head. And you can swear you just went to heaven and back, the moment his mouth meets your core you feel ecstatic. The first swipe of his tongue has you crying out, its wide across you, stimulating each nerve there at once. Your hips buck involuntarily. His tongue is warm on your wet core. The sensation is immaculate, you canât help but to melt in his mouth. He pins you down with strong hands on your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth.
âOh godâYunââ You can barely form words as he circles your clit with his tongue, alternating between broad strokes and targeted precision that makes your toes curl. âThatâsâfuckâright there.â
He hums against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your body. He could swear he's never tasted anything sweeter. Your slick coats his mouthâhe loves devouring you, loves the mess of it all. It's driving him insane. As he sucks on your clit, he slides two fingers inside you, heightening the pleasure. He curls them to hit that perfect spot while his tongue continues its relentless assault. You feel yourself rapidly approaching the edge.
âIâm close,â you warn, voice breaking. âSo closeââ
He redoubles his efforts, establishing a rhythm that has you gasping for air. The combination of his fingers and his tongue sends you careening over the edge. Your back arches off the bed as pleasure explodes through you, waves of it crashing over you as you cry out his name, hand harshly pulling his hair.
He works you through it, gentling his touch as you become oversensitive, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as you struggle to catch your breath. He gladly cleans your sweetness from you with his tongue.Â
When you finally open your eyes, heâs looking up at you with a mixture of awe and smug satisfaction that should be illegal. âThat was the hottest thing Iâve ever seen,â he says, slowly making his way back up your body.
You pull him down for a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his wet lips. âYour turn,â you murmur, reaching between you to palm the hard length still confined by his sweatpants.
He groans into your mouth, hips instinctively pressing into your touch. âThese need to come off,â you insist, tugging at his waistband.
Yunho strips off his remaining clothes. Your mouth waters at the sight of himâall of himâfinally bare before you. Heâs gorgeous, his body lean and strong, his arousal evident and impressive. You canât fathom what's waiting for you. If his fingers alone reached so deep inside you how would his dick feel?
âCondom,â he mutters, fumbling in his bedside drawer. You watch, still pleasantly dazed from your orgasm, as he rolls it on with practiced ease.
When he returns to you, hovering above your body, thereâs a moment of perfect stillness. His eyes search yours, a question in them that goes beyond physical want.
Something in his expression shifts, softens, then blazes with renewed hunger. He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing against your sensitised flesh.
âTell me if I need to stop,â he says, voice strained with the effort of holding back. He gives his length a few strokes. Then, with a groan that sounds like surrender, he pushes forward, entering you in one slow, deliberate thrust that has both of you gasping. The stretch is delicious, your body accommodating his size with a pleasure that borders on pain. The girth is not what youâre used to, no, this is revolutionary.
âFuck,â you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours, his body trembling. âYou feelâyou're so bigââ Heâs clearly amused by your words, pride flickering across his face. You dig your nails into his shoulders. âOhâfuck.â You clench around him, the grip so tight it nearly prevents him from moving any further, and he moans at the sensation of your walls wrapped around his cock.
He gives you a moment to adjust, stroking your hair as you both breathe against each otherâs lips. âYou okay?â he whispers.
âYeah.â You nod, then roll your hips, taking him even deeper, and the broken moan that tears from his throat is your new favourite sound.
He finally begins to move, setting a rhythm that has you clutching at the sheets. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure radiating through your body, building on the sensitivity from your previous orgasm. The drag of him inside you is exquisiteâfilling you completely before withdrawing just enough to make you chase the sensation.Â
âGod, youâre perfect,â he groans, his voice strained as he watches where your bodies connect. âSo tight around meâso fucking perfect.â Heâs mesmerised by the sight of you taking him in completely, like you were made for each other. It drives him wild.
You canât help the whimpers escaping your throat with each roll of his hips. The pressure is building again, faster than before, coiling tight in your lower abdomen. âHarder,â you plead, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. âNeed you deeper.â
Yunhoâs eyes flash dark with desire. Seems like thatâs what he wanted to hear desperately. He shifts his angle, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder to drive even deeper. The new position hits something inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. As the new position offers you more freedom, he is now plunging in the deepest spots of your core. Each thrust is making you cry out with screams of pleasure, rocking your body and pushing you closer to the edge.Â
âThere!â you cry out, back arching off the bed. âRight thereâdonât stopâfuck!â
His rhythm becomes more urgent, more desperate. His thrusts are precise, relentlessly hitting the spot that has your eyes rolling back. The sight before him is almost pornographic: your eyes rolled behind your lids, the whites peeking through; your mouth agape, tongue practically lolling out; your body twitching with each stroke. Sweat beads on his forehead, his muscles tensing under your fingertips as he chases both your pleasure and his own. âTouch yourself,â he commands, voice rough with exertion. âLet me see you come again.â
You slip a hand between your bodies, obeying his command, finding your clit swollen and sensitive.
âGood girl.â
The praise sends another surge of heat through you. Your movements falter for a secondâyou're so lost in pleasure that your body struggles to obey. The dual sensation of your fingers and his cock has you spiralling toward the edge almost immediately. Your moans grow even louder, as if that were possible considering how vocal youâve been all along.
âGod my cock is so wet going in and out of you.â Your fingers move faster against your clit, matching the rhythm of his increasingly erratic thrusts. âYou love being filled like this, donât you?â
His words only drive you closer to the edge. âLook at me,â he demands, and your eyes snap open to meet his. The intensity in his gaze nearly undoes you. âI want to see your face when you come on my cock.â
The building pressure snaps like a wire pulled too tight. You come with his name on your lips, your inner walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. The intensity of it leaves you gasping, arching, trembling, clutching at him like heâs the only solid thing in a world gone liquid with pleasure.
âThatâs it,â he groans, his rhythm faltering as your walls clench around him. âFuck, youâre squeezing me so tightâIâm gonnaââ His words dissolve into a guttural moan as he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spills into the condom. He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as aftershocks roll through both your bodies.
For several long moments, the only sound in the room is your mingled breathing. He collapses beside you, careful not to crush you with his weight, and pulls you against his chest. His heartbeat thunders under your ear, gradually slowing as you both come down from the high.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and reverentâa stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. âThat was... â he starts, then laughs softly, seeming unable to find adequate words.
âYeah,â you agree, smiling against his skin. âIt really was.â
A moment passes between you, the air heavy with what just happened. Yunho shifts slightly, and you notice a flicker of uncertainty cross his faceâso different from the confident man who just took you apart.
âDo you...â he starts, then clears his throat. His eyes dart away from yours briefly before returning. âDo you want to stay? Here? With me?â The question comes out hesitant, almost shy, as if heâs bracing himself for rejection. The vulnerability in his voice makes something warm bloom in your chest. You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his skin.
âIâd like that,â you reply softly. âVery much.â
He smiles, relief washing over his features, before pulling away briefly to dispose of the condom. When he returns, he gathers you back into his arms, and the comfortable silence stretches between you, your fingers still absently tracing patterns on his chest. Yunho shifts slightly, catching your hand in his. He brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm that makes your heart flutter.
âCan I...â he starts, then stops, a blush creeping up his neck. He looks surprisingly bashful for someone who was so commanding just minutes ago. âCan I kiss you? Again, I mean.â
âYou know,â you say, smiling as you trace his bottom lip with your thumb, âfor someone who just had his dick inside me, thatâs an adorably hesitant question.â
His blush deepens, but he laughs, the sound rumbling pleasantly against your skin. âYeah, well... that was in the heat of the moment. This feels... different.â
You understand what he means. The desperate hunger has given way to something more tender, more vulnerable. More dangerous, in its own way.
Instead of answering, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss thatâs gentle but unmistakably wanting. When you pull back, his eyes remain closed for a moment longer, as if savouring the sensation.
âHow many rounds of Valorant did you play today?â you ask, your voice low as you trail a finger down his chest.
He blinks, thrown by the sudden change in subject. âUh, seven or eight, I think? Why?â
You push him gently onto his back, swinging a leg over to straddle his hips. His hands automatically come to rest on your thighs as he gazes up at you.
âBecause,â you say, rolling your hips just enough to make his breath catch, âI want at least that many rounds with you.â
A slow, dazed grin spreads across his face. âWell, you know what they say about gamers,â he murmurs, his thumbs making small circles on your skin.
âWhatâs that?â
His grin turns wicked as he flips you suddenly, pinning you beneath him with a smoothness that makes your pulse race. âWe have excellent stamina and very, very good finger control.â
As his mouth finds yours again, more demanding this time, you think that youâve never been so grateful for his gaming obsession.
âSo,â you murmur when you finally break apart, âdoes this mean youâll take more breaks from Valorant now?â
His laugh vibrates through both your bodies. âFor this? Iâd uninstall the damn game completely.â
THE DOLLMAKER ËË ë°ì±í
âžÂ  đ đđđđŸđ đđ đđđŸ đđ đșđđ đđđ đ”đČđżđČ!
you were sunghoonâs muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isnât there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isnât real. your beloved husband wouldnât do something like that, would he? you werenât so sure about your answer anymore.
pairing âžâž park sunghoon đ„ fem!reader
đ” đŻeat. ê đŻđ°đŻđŠ!
genre â đ âžâž established relationship, angsty & mature themes, smut, some fluff, husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic vibes, supernatural elements
warnings âžâž dark content, heavy dubcon, dollification, mentions of murder and kidnapping, really creepy dolls, sunghoon is actually insane lmao, heavy gaslighting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, heavy body worship, slow sex to rough sex and back to soft sex (youâll see), manhandling, handjob, cumshots, clit stimulation, fingering, brief somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, mentions of oral (f. rec), praise, petnames (my love, darling, doll), hair pulling (m. rec), cockwarming, a lot of skinship, teasing, brief nipple play, mentions of aftercare, they are very very codependent, traditional marriage aspects
đŽipoâs note âžâž went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but itâs finally here!! my first post on my new blog (thatâs not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier⊠hehe enjoy loves!!
You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.
And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. Youâd ask for nothing more.
But, as the days started to passâand your husband was out later and later for workâyou started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where youâd be set alight with how well you presented yourselfâwith how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.
In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoonâs watchful eye. You loved how heâd dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you inâfrills and lace. Loved how heâd fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasnât up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compareâhis perfect creation.
Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as youâre growing to hate the idea, you just canât let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. Itâs as if itâs embedded in your skin, as if itâs in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You donât know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, youâre too scared to find out what that life entails.
So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes itâand you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.
You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didnât know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.
Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didnât even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girlâs dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.
It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasnât quite right. Sometimes he couldnât accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.
âYouâre too flawless,â Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.
You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. âI donât think Iâm flawless,â you smile at him, âIâm just as flawed as everyone elseâjust as human.â
Sunghoonâs gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoonâs eyes that you knew all too well.
âYouâre flawless to me,â he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.
He captured them with a certain roughnessâthe type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoonâs hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.
You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. âYouâre my muse,â he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.
You suppose that being so perfect wasnât so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldnât keep his hands off of youâif it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasnât a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.
Maybe it wasnât perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotionâan act of love.
Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. âPlease,â you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.
You werenât quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. âPlease,â you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.
Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. âSo soft,â he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldnât anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.
He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon mustâve decided that he couldnât wait any longer, couldnât bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.
Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoonâs thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.
Sunghoonâs breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. âPerfect,â Sunghoon breathed out.
Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. Itâs what he did to you every nightâleft you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didnât care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.
In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasnât there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didnât look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldnât help but feel was mocking.
No matter how often it happened, youâll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about itâthe two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.
You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.
What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.
It was the TV remote. You scoffed.
You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.
âWeâre here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, maâam?â you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.
A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didnât realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from homeâsomething he didnât do as often anymore. âShe was the most beautiful girl in the worldâthe most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.â
You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dollsâ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. âThe news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.â
Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. âThis has beenââ You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girlsâsix missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girlsâ image.
Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?
You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didnât.Â
Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.
The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! âOh!â you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. âOh no,â you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.
Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.
It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a momentâat yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? âFine,â you say, smoothing out your dress, âIâll play along.â You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.
You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didnât notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dollsâ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.
At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didnât touch. Sunghoon didnât even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. Youâve never even seen the inside of it⊠until now.
There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than youâve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.
In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldnât even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room youâve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didnât even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.
Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. âI donât understand,â you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. âWhat does this mean? What is that behind him?â
There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You werenât sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.
Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that lookâthat inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, âDo you understand now?â You still werenât sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoonâs humming still filled your ears and you didnât know what to do to stop it.
More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to conveyâyou could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.
You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.
Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didnât mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didnât dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.
You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. âEat up!â you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.
His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. âThank you, darlingâŠâ he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. âWhatâs wrong? Youâre never so jumpy.â
Youâd been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morningâs encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you shouldâve known that nothing gets past your husband.
âItâs nothing,â you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. âI guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that youâre home.â
Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. âIâm sorry,â he says, his words coming out muffled. âI know I've been working more and more lately and I havenât had much time for you.â
You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. âCanât you work from home?â you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, âLike you used to? You work so much and youâre always gone. I miss you when youâre not here, and in return Iâm sad the whole day.â
Sunghoonâs black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. âI donât have all the tools here that I do at the shop,â Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. âBut, I might be able to work from here tomorrow⊠I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?â
You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didnât work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoonâs face even larger this time. âI suppose thatâs okay,â you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.
Sunghoon chuckled, âYeah?â You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. âI love that sound,â he says, holding you closer. âI want to hear it forever.â He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.
Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. âEat,â you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didnât let you get far. âWe have a big day tomorrow.â
âYour dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,â Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. âDo what I said,â you scolded him.
Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. âYes, maâam.â
That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.
When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. âThose missing girlsâŠâ you started, finally finding your voice, âon the news⊠Isnât it odd that they favor me?â Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.
Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. âI-I mean⊠how they favor each other. And I favor them too, donât you think?â you continue. You really hoped that you didnât sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasnât started to drive you mad and see things that arenât thereâthat arenât true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anythingâno emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.
âIâm scared, Sunghoon,â you said in the gentlest whisper, âWhat if Iâm next?â
âMissing girls?â Sunghoon says, âIâve heard about them. But, donât worryââ he reached over to caress your cheek ââI wonât let anyone hurt you. Youâre safe here, with me.â His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. âNo one but me will ever touch you,â Sunghoon muttered against your hair.
His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.
Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didnât get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?
You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didnât want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with youâdidnât want to risk him thinking that you werenât flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm⊠Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.
Him touching you wasnât something newâhe always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, itâs normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didnât know what the dollsâ game was, but you didnât like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. Heâd never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.
Slowly, you began to drift offâyour body getting heavier and heavier in his armsâand you let sleep overtake you.
A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.
You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. âEnough,â you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. âI donât know what you all want from me.â
The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldnât keep doing this.
You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didnât even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.
Sunghoon wasnât in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasnât in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.
You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasnât there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasnât in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dollsâ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.
You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll insideâthe grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.
Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.
That couldnât be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoonâs doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.
After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard somethingâhumming.
It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.
Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.
What if Sunghoon wasnât even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was himâthat the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasnât in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.
More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you werenât seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.
You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.
The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen overâSunghoonâs hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.
Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?
He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. Itâs big eyes bored into you.
Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.
You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldnât worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.
Youâd be upset and worried, yes, but he didnât have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.
A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoonâs footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.
With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, âWhy are you out of bed?â
Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, âDonât worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.â His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.
You sat up more. âWell, Iâm not tired anymore,â you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoonâs hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. âNo?â he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.
Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. âYouâre sure you arenât tired anymore?â Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.
Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, âYes.â
Sunghoonâs fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldnât believe what he was witnessing. âFuckâŠâ he muttered lowly, âI donât think Iâll ever get use to seeing this, and itâs all for me to admire.â
He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer viewâjust like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. âEntirely,â you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. âIt will always be all for youâIâll always be all, entirely yours.â
You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husbandâs watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasnât even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.
âIs that so?â Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldnât decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonightâwhich one always won.
You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husbandâs love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, youâd do anything for itâto keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.
Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasnât busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it werenât, you wouldnât be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.
Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoonâs eyes never left yours. âLike my own, personal little doll,â he continued, his voice low. âThe real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.â
His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, âDo you know how much I love you?â
With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. âHow much,â he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, âIâd do for you? How Iâd do anything?â Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoonâs gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. âDo you?â Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.
Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. Itâs what he couldnât help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldnât hold himself backâuntil he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time youâd blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.
Nodding, you inhaled deeply. âI do,â you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. âAnd I love you just as much. Iâd do just as much.â
âNo,â Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. âThe way I love you, itâs⊠cavernous. Deep and darkâpitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.â His hand trailed down to your chin. âIt consumes me, my love for you. I canât control it⊠I canât control the things Iâd do to ensure youâll always love me. And you will⊠wonât you? Always love me?â Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.
âYes,â you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoonâs body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. âIâll forever love you. Thereâs nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.â
Sunghoonâs body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. âGoodâŠâ he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. âBecause sometimes⊠The thought of you no longer loving me⊠i-it drives me completely insane.â His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoonâs lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.
He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. âIt makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see itâsee how much my love for you breaks me apart.â With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. âMy sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.â
Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoonâs pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.
It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldnât even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.
You guessed that you liked being usedâliked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.
Sunghoonâs pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.
He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoonâs mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.
âYou feel so good,â Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. âTaking everything I give you so well, my love. Itâs like your body was made for mine.â Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. âDo you feel good, darling?â
Sunghoonâs hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoonâs mouth opened and he let out a laugh. âPlease,â you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, âplease.â
He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. âPlease, what?â he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. âWhat are you begging me to do to you?â
You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you wouldâve thought you werenât breathing at allâinstead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. âPlease,â you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.
âNo, no, no!â you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoonâs own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. âIâll continue once you can tell meââ his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length ââwhat you want.â Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when heâd move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.
âTell meâŠâ he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didnât give him an answer. Sunghoonâs hands laid flat against the back of your thighsâright next to where you needed him the most.
âI⊠I-I want youâŠâ you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. âCloserâŠâ Sunghoon says through a grunt, âbut, Iâm going to need more than that from you, my love. Donât you want to be good for me and do what I asked?â
A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. âI want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock⊠see your pretty face as you cum around it. Wonât you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?â Sunghoon continued.
How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it allâsaw it all. Enough with holding backâlike he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didnât feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?
âDo itâŠâ you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. âI w-want you⊠to do it.â Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasnât using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoonâs head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.
Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. âDo what?â he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.
You didnât have to say anything else. Sunghoonâs hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoonâs warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it allâhand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.
His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldnât tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.
Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. âYou like being my doll, donât you?â Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. âDonât you?â he asked a little louder when you didnât answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.
His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. âYou know,â he starts, his voice no longer so low, âyou really are truly flawless, doll. My museâŠâ
Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, âIt angers me how much I canât capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thingâthe real you. It makes me⊠so angryâŠâ
Heâs pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoonâs wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.
Sunghoonâs pace is brutal, and youâre suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didnât care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoonâs wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.
âS-Sloââ you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so youâd feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldnât think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himselfâat youâlike you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.
You adore it, the way he makes you feel.
Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you wouldâve thought that youâd be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely werenât trying to be quiet in the slightest.
Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. âI want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.â His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. âForever my perfect little doll, to bendââ he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half ââand to breakââ he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him ââand to put back together and play with as I please.â
âSunghoon,â you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didnât get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoonâs cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.
âThatâs my girl,â Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. âPretty dolls donât cry.â
Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. âI love you,â he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.
Your hands moved from Sunghoonâs shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. Youâd give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.
Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoonâs lips pull into a smile, âI love you so much.â He said it like it was a confession.
Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motorâs limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.
His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoonâs cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoonâs cock. You were a mess.
Over and over, three words came from Sunghoonâs lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. âI love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, Iââ
Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldnât move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.
You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldnât feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.
Sunghoon kissed you again. âStay here,â he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. âAbsolute perfection,â he said under his breath before standing to his feet.
You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.
You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didnât start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.
Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. âI could fuck you all nightâŠâ he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, âand into the morning, too.â His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. âBut then we wouldnât have the full day together, would we, my love?â
You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.
In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoonâs slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.
His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadnât been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snailâs pace against your walls. âAre you sore?â he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.
You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldnât ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. âA little,â you say.
Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. âIâm sorry, my love,â he says and his lips meet yours again. âLet me make you feel better.â
He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.
His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. âIâll be gentle,â Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.
Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongueâacidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.
If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then youâd forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.
Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didnât have to work, but it still wasnât enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didnât help.
It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.
You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. âThe search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.â
The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.
Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didnât want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.
You recalled the way the door to the room openedâthe pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.
You didnât really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoonâs doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoonâs books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.
In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.
The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didnât even really know what was in front of you⊠It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.
You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didnât look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even furtherâit barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.
Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.
The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.
The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully humâthe sound off tune and terrifyingâdid your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly⊠it hummed Sunghoonâs melody, the one he hummed when he worked.
Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girlsâthe six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.
You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.
The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.
Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his âexperiment.â It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didnât want to believe it.
Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasnât who he said he wasâthat he was a kidnapper, a killer.
You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. âNo!â you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. âNo, this is all a misunderstandingâa mistake! Sunghoon wouldnât do this⊠He isnât that type of person!â You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.
Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creationâSunghoonâs experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.
The dollhouse.
It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you⊠it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasnât just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craftâno. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice⊠He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.
Sunghoonâs words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: âI want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.â You finally understood it now.
Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. âIâm sorry,â you cried, unsure if it even heard you. âIâm so sorry.â
You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didnât even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.
Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. âThis is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?â
Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. âI⊠I-I think my husband kidnapped those girlsâŠâ you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.
âSomething scare you, darling?â Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldnât tell if he was being genuine.
You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didnât even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.
Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.
He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.
Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. âI thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when Iâm here.â His voice was still gentleâsoftâand it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.
You voice shook, âY-You kidnapped those girls, didnât you? Turned them into⊠intoâŠâ Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everythingâthe dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. âInto⊠what?â Sunghoon asks.
â...Into me!â you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoonâs hand tightened around yours. âYou killed them⊠and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?â
Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. âThey arenât dead!â he says. âAnd I swear to you that Iâll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as⊠reborn.â
You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldnât let you go anywhere. âIs that what youâre going to do to me? Was all of thisââ you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen ââjust practice for the real thing?â you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoonâs hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.
âNo!â Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. âNo⊠canât you see? Thisââ he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls ââis a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.â
âA-And that experiment of yoursâthe missing girls? Behind the wall?â you asked.
âThat⊠is my dedication to youâm-my oath.â Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didnât believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.
You didnât know what to believe. Didnât know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that youâve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didnât let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldnât tell which one of you was more terrified.
His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. âCome⊠Come with meâŠâ he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. âPlease,â he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. âYou know Iâd never do anything ever to hurt you.â
Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. âI know how it looks,â Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. âBut thereâs no pain, no sorrow, nothing.â
It didnât try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didnât hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. âIt just is,â Sunghoon continued. âAnd when itâs fully done, and completely polished, itâll be flawless.â He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. âLike you are.â
Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.
His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air youâll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt rightâit felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you nowâlike he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didnât hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.
When Sunghoonâs lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didnât they?
Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoonâs lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.
You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoonâs muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.
âI love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.â
You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.
You arenât sure how long itâs been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how youâre in different clothes and thereâs a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.
Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. Heâs wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like heâs been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. âAre you here, my love?â Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.
You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they lookâshiny. Thereâs slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and theyâre the same.
You look doll-like.
Once youâre steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how itâs styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoonâs face, his eyes meeting yours.
His eyes are shiningâcompletely full of love and pride. Youâve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.
âPerfect.â
[ kipoâs note . . . ] would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately⊠like hehe yes iâll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (àčÂŽÏ`àč)
â° genre. â early 2000s au, best friendâs older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.
â° word count. â 10k+
â° warnings. â swearing, family issues, friendship betrayal, mention of drugs/alcohol, smut [ cunnilingus, rough sex, âŠidk how else to describe it ] reader and hs are both 18+, minors dni, cliffhanger.
â° a/n. PART 3 IS IN THE WORKS PART 3 IS IN THD WORKS PART 3 IS IN THE WORKS
âDid you seriously think I wouldnât find out?â Chaeryeong is glaring daggers at you upon opening the front door, arms crossed across her chest as she eyes you. Her lips are twisted into a disgusted snarl, youâve never seen her this upset before.
You swallow the lump in your throat, âFind out about what?â
She cocks her head to the side, squinting her eyes at you, âDonât act like you donât know.â
Fuck, youâre screwed. If there were a list of all the reasons why you shouldnât have had sex with Lee Heeseung, the simple fact of him being your best friendâs brother would be number one.
With closed eyes, you let out a relieved sigh. As much as you wanted to wait to tell Chaeryeong about hooking up with Heeseung, itâd be an enormous weight off your shoulders not having to hide it any longer. Itâd only been a few days since it happened, but you hate keeping secrets from her.
âHowâd you find out?â You question, chewing on your bottom lip.
âMy parents told me, duh.â
Holy crap, Heeseung told his parents the two of you had sex? Why the fuck would he do that?
âThey did?â You ask, completely bewildered.
âWell, yeah!â Chaeryeong finally uncrosses her arms, demeanor completely changing as her gaze softens, âWhy didnât you tell me your sister got engaged?â
Thank God you didnât elaborate any further.
âOh! Because they probably arenât gonna last.â You respond, stepping into the Lee household once Chaeryeong allows you to enter. Itâs been a few days since youâve been here, mostly due to the fact that you were completely avoiding Heeseung.
The empty condom in his trash bin had been plaguing your mind nonstop, you could barely even sleep from how embarrassed you were. Why did he fake his orgasm? What if he didn't fake an orgasm and just shot a blank? Did you do something wrong? Was he not attracted to you? Why was the condom empty?
Seeing him in person wouldâve only intensified the thoughts roaming in your head, so you avoided him at all costs up until now. Youâd promised the Lee siblings that youâd finally see Twilight with them and their friends despite not being able to function correctly around either of them.
Chaeryeong snickers, following you into the living room. âOoh, thatâs not nice.â
âItâs true, though,â you explain, âsheâs still so young, only a few years older than your brother. I mean, can you picture Heeseung getting married in a few years?â
The regret from that question fills you almost immediately.
âSure,â Chaeryeong responds, pausing to greet the eager doberman charging at her. âAs long as he finds the right person; heâd get married in a heartbeat.â
You want to ask what Chaeryeongâs definition of âthe perfect personâ would be for Heeseung or the type of girl sheâd be willing to set him up with. Itâd probably be the unnamed, mysterious redhead you recently dreamed about curb stomping (yikes!).
You donât respond to this, taking a seat on the sofa when the sudden shout of your name has you flinching. Itâs Chaeryeongâs parents, excitedly greeting you with open arms as you politely stand to properly hug them. âI feel like itâs been so long since weâve seen you! Howâs your family? We just heard the news about your sister!â Mrs. Lee ambushes you with questions, all while cradling your face.
âAbout how sheâs making the biggest mistake of her life?â You half-joke.
Mrs. Lee playfully waves a hand in your direction as she steps into the kitchen, her husband only a few feet behind. âOh, donât say that. Iâm sure the two of them will be very happy together.â She turns to her husband, grabbing his hand, âI just canât believe Imogen is getting married. I still remember when she first started high school.â
Mr. Lee sighs in disbelief. âI know,â he mumbles, nodding at you. âYouâre up next soon, huh?â
âMaybe she can marry Heeseung,â Mrs. Lee joked, opening her fridge, âset him straight.â
Thereâs an idea.
âGross, Mom. Donât wish that on her.â Chaeryeong groans in disgust as she plops down next to you.
Well, that answers your previous question.
âWe should probably get going, right? To make it in time for the trailers?â You ask.
âYeah, we should.â Chaeryeong responds, tilting her head up towards the staircase, âHeeseung! Hurry up and come downstairs! Weâre ready to go!â
âGimmie a minute!â He shouts back, and a chill runs down your spine. Itâs been too long since youâve heard his voice. The last time you saw him, he was lying naked in his bed; youâre not sure how youâll survive being around him all night knowing what your last encounter was like.
As promised, Heeseung is sliding down the staircase a minute later and nails the landing. Heâs wearing a black Twilight shirt featuring the leading couple, black cargo pants, and, of course, black sneakers. He looks like his usual self until you take a closer look and notice the reddish-black eyeshadow that decorated his eyes. It wasnât much, just enough to make his eyes pop, and it complimented him perfectly. A second later, you see the black nail polish neatly coated on his nails. You have to blink a few times to ensure this is real life and youâre not trapped in a wet dream.
He strolls into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from his parents before digging through the fridge. His mom clears her throat, crossing her arms at him.
âWhat?â He asks, retrieving a two-liter Mountain Dew bottle.
âSeriously, Heeseung? The makeup? The nail polish?â She questions, clearly frustrated.
Heeseung cocks his head, unscrewing the soda bottleâs lid. âWhatâs wrong with it? Chaeryeongâs wearing the same thing.â
âSon, you know thatâs different.â His father interjects.
Heeseung takes a swig of the soda before responding. âWhy? Because sheâs a girl?â
âItâs not like that, hon. Itâs justâŠwe didnât make a big deal of it when you first started the piercings, and the tattoos, and the hair dye, but thisâŠitâs a little much. Donât you think?â His mother asks.
You want to step in and tell his parents that Heeseung is old enough to make his own decisions and express himself as he pleases, but itâs not your place. Instead, you cheer silently when Chaeryeong surprisingly interrupts the discussion. âDid you guys seriously force him to come back home just to criticize how he presents himself, or would you rather have a peaceful summer?â
âWe arenât trying to criticize him, Chaeryeong. Weâre just looking out for our child.â Mr. Lee responds.
âItâs a special occasion, Dad. Is it bad that I wanted to look nice forââ Heeseung abruptly cuts himself short, quickly glancing in your direction before returning his attention to his parents. â...to go see Twilight with my friends?â
What was that about?
Silence passes, and the three stare at each other until Mrs. Lee sighs defeatedly and says, âNo, thereâs nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. I hope you guys enjoy the movie.â
âWe will,â Heeseung responds, closing the soda bottle lid and placing it back in the fridge. He heads for the front door, beckoning you and Chaeryeong to follow behind. Heâs eager to leave the house, quickly swinging the front door open and jogging towards his car.
You and Chaeryeong say goodbye to her parents with a promise to be home by eleven before following in Heeseungâs footsteps, who already has the car running. As you wait for Chaeryeong to finish locking the front door, Heeseung rolls down his window and shouts, âHurry up! Letâs go!â
âWill you calm down?!â Chaeryeong throws back, rolling her eyes as she finally removes the house key from the lock.
You follow her towards Heeseungâs car, sliding into the backseat as you pretend not to notice Heeseung watching you through the rearview mirror. He wants you to look at him, but you refuse, busying yourself by buckling your seatbelt and convincing Chaeryeong to do the same. Once Heeseung is convinced youâre not going to do so much as glance at him, he puts the car in drive and pulls into the road.
Chaeryeong talks your ear off in the backseat about whatever comes to mind while you keep your eyes on the window. Itâs hard to not notice Heeseung glancing back at you through the mirror at every red light or stop sign, but you donât dare meet his gaze.
The movie theaterâs parking lot is crowded when you arrive; it takes Heeseung a few minutes to eventually locate a spot. A smile is plastered on his face as he parks the car, eager to see some of his closest friends after being separated. He informs you and Chaeryeong to disregard anything foolish he friends may say, claiming they arrived early to smoke behind the movie theater, so theyâre more than likely too high to function properly.
Heeseung shrugs when Chaeryeong asks why people do that, shoving his hands into his pockets as the three of you make your way towards the theater entrance. âSome people say it makes the movie experience better.â
You want to ask Heeseung if heâs ever been high, but you can barely even bring yourself to look in his direction; let alone ask him a question. So youâre silent as the three of you enter the movie theater, instantly spotting Heeseungâs bandmates in the far corner.
WellâŠHeeseungâs bandmates and one other guest.
The bubbly redhead greets you guys first, running up to Heeseung with open arms as if they havenât seen each other in a million years. It makes you want to vomit.
You look away as they hug, directing your attention to the concession stand employee who had apparently already been watching you. His name tag reads âJakeâ, and he resembles a slightly younger version of Heeseung, with the same dark hair and similar lip piercing. His eyes stay on you until a customer blocks your path, and youâre back to watching Heeseung reunite with his friends.
âHey, you were the one at that party, right? With Chaeryeong?â The redhead asks, squinting her eyes at you.
âYeah.â Is all you respond with, because why in Godâs name is this girl talking to you right now?
âItâs nice to meet you, Iâm Scar,â she introduces herself, extending a hand for you to shake.
Chaeryeong interjects, grabbing ahold of your wrist while glaring at Scar. âYour name is Scarlett.â
She drags you along to the ticketbooth, mumbling about she doesnât like nor trusts Scar. When you ask for her reasonsings, she responds with, âI donât need one. I just donât like her.â
At least youâre on the same page about that.
Still, you canât help but wonder why Chaeryeong has a distaste for Scar. You have your petty reasoning for disliking her, but Chaeryeong (more than likely) has better knowledge of Scarâs personality, so whatever reasons she has for disliking her could be legitimate.
Youâre thinking of this as Heeseung is ordering the tickets for everyone, asking the employee to give him a minute when the friend you recognise as Jay starts tapping his shoulder. âWe should go see Saw instead, it just came out.â
Heeseung looks genuinely confused at the suggestion. âWhat? No, we came here to see Twilight.â
âSo?!â Jungwon chimes in, eyes as red as the devil, âCome on, dude, youâve already seen Twilight, donât you wanna see something new?â
âFuck no, weâre literally in the middle of buying the tickets.â Heeseung reminds everyone.
âI kinda wanna see Saw, too.â
âSame.â
âYeah, me too.â
âI do, too.â
Heeseung whips his head around at his sister, âWhat? Even you?â
Chaeryeong scoffs, âWell, yeah! Twilight just seems boring in comparison.â
âCome on guys,â the employee interrupts, âyouâre holding up the line.â
Heeseungs turns towards you. âDo you still wanna see Twilight?â
Truthfully, you want to go home; but seeing how excited Heeseung was for the movie made you feel something, so you nod. He lets out a relieved sigh.
He moves out of the way to allow his friends to buy their tickets first, slipping his sister cash to pay for hers; to which she initially rejects. âI donât need your money,â she claims.
âJust take it, Chaeryeong. I brought it for you.â
From what you can make out, itâs enough to cover her ticket and grab something from the concession stand. The pair of siblings may bicker a lot, but itâs nice to know Heeseung still looks out for his younger sister whenever he can.
Chaeryeong reluctantly accepts the money and purchases her ticket, you watch as Heeseung follows suit; ordering two tickets for Twilight and stopping you from opening your purse. âDonât worry about it.â
âOh, itâs fine. I have enough.â You reassure him.
Heeseung laughs to himself, âWhy are the two of you like this?â He questions, fishing out crumpled dollar bills from his pocket and handing them to the cashier who sighs in annoyance, straightening and inspecting each bill before placing it in his register.
You donât know why Heeseung insists on being so nice to you despite your persistence on not speaking to him. A part of you wonders if he thinks this is some kind of date now that the two of you will be separated from the group. It doesnât matter, you donât know why youâre thinking too much into it.
Once all the tickets have been purchased, the seven of you head towards the concession stand. Chaeryeong debates pushing herself to the front of the long line, claiming that the theater should make accommodations to those whoâs movie is starting sooner. Or something like that, you canât really focus with the way Jake is staring at you. Youâre used to guys staring all the time, but they tend to shyly look away upon making eye contact.
Jake is quite the opposite, staring you down every chance he gets. Your skin feels hot, and youâre suddenly growing anxious under his gaze.
When the group ahead of you has finished ordering and is heading off into their theater, youâre sure to stick close to Heeseung as you approach the counter. Jake eyes him over once before returning his gaze to you. âWhat can I get for you guys?â
Heeseung takes the liberty of ordering a large popcorn for the two of you to share, and doesnât even get mad when you request a slushie instead of a fountain drink. He doesnât let you pay of course, swatting your hand away when you absentmindedly reach for your purse. âYou seriously have to stop doing that.â He mumbles, handing Jake the cash.
Jake is quick to prepare the popcorn and Heeseungâs drink, but takes his time when making your slushie. Heâs sure to fill it to the brim, and youâre worried it may accidentally overflow and leave a sticky mess. âYou didnât want candy or anything?â He questions, handing you your drink.
You shrug, âMaybe Twizzlers, butââ
Before you can finish, Jake is reaching under the counter then sliding you a pack of Twizzlers. âOn me.â
âOh, are you sure?â You ask, hesitant to accept the free candy.
Jake sends Heeseung a cocky smirk before he responds, âYeah, enjoy the movie.â
You thank Jake and pretend to not notice the death glares the two boys are sending one another before walking with Heeseung to your theater. âThat guy was weird.â He comments.
âYeah.â You agree, but itâs definitely not true. Jake was friendly and clearly interested in you, unlike Heeseung who was sending you nonstop, draining mixed signals. If his definition of weird is someone who is straightforward, then perhaps you should start going after weirdos.
Once youâre settled in your seats in the back of the theater, â per Heeseungâs request â he clears his throat then says, âSo, I tried messaging you on Facebook. Didnât get anything back.â
âOh, sorry. I havenât been using Facebook that much.â You reply, hoping your lame excuse is believable enough.
He nods, eyes bouncing between you and the movie trailers playing in the background. âYeah, I figured.â He says. When you donât respond, he continues, âI wouldâve asked Chaeryeong for your number, but I didnât want her to get suspicious or anything.â
âThatâs smart.â You admit, nodding in agreement.
âAre you okay?â Heeseung asks suddenly, his full attention to you.
You finally make eye contact, and the expression on his face makes your heart sink. He looks genuinely concerned and confused by your sudden coldness. You hate being so mean to him, but youâre too embarrassed to explain the real reason why youâve been avoiding him. So you nod and say, âJust a little tired.â
Itâs clear he doesnât believe this, the same expression is still on his face as he refocuses on the movie trailers.
You hate how awkward it feels to be around him now, never in a million years would you have guessed the two of you would end up like this. A week ago you wouldâve been overjoyed at the idea of being on a movie date with Heeseung; and now youâre considering leaving early and catching a taxi home.
The two of you remain silent as the rest of the trailers play on, and Heeseung immediately sits up in his seat when the lights finally dim and the curtains are being pulled back further. Heâs incredibly quiet throughout the movie aside from a muffled chuckle every now and then; he even side-eyes anyone making too much noise.
You enjoy Twilight nonetheless, agreeing with Heeseung that you do in fact dress like Bella Swan from time to time. When he asks if you liked it as youâre exiting the theater, you tell him it was very nice, and that you hope thereâll be another movie.
Heeseung smiles at this, tossing his empty cup in a nearby trash bin. âIâm sure there will be. Maybe theyâll even cast you as Bellaâs stunt double since you already have the clothes.â
âShut up.â You tease, and it feels nice to be able to joke around with him as usual. Maybe youâll finally have the courage to tell Heeseung why youâve been so distant these past few days.
Saw doesnât get out for another few minutes, so youâre stuck waiting in the lobby for Chaeryeong and everyone else. Heeseung gestures towards the nearly empty slushie cup clutched in your hands, âYou get free refills on that, I think.â
You take his word, strolling over to the concession stand. Jake spots you immediately and gestures for you to skip around the line. You shake your head, but he still beckons for you to come over. You feel bad, but the line has gotten longer since you were first here, and you really donât want to wait in a long line just for a refill.
âWhat flavor?â He asks once youâve slid him your cup.
You tell him anything is fine and he gets to work, combining the cherry and blue raspberry flavors. âHow was the movie?â
âIt was good. The vampire stuff was cool.â
âHave you seen Saw yet? It just came out.â
âNo, I havenât.â
âItâs so good; if you wanna give me your number maybe we can see it together some time.â
What is it with guys offering to take you out to a movie theyâve already seen? Youâre not complaining, itâs just odd.
Jake is clearly interested in you and has offered to take you out. You'd be silly to pass up on this guy just because your current relationship with your longtime crush is at a standstill. So you accept, scribbling your phone number down on a napkin with your name underneath. He makes a promise to call you once his shift is over, and that he looks forward to seeing you.
When you turn to meet up with Heeseung, heâs gone. You catch him storming out of the theater, hauling ass to his car.
You run to catch up to him, calling out his name and begging him to slow down.
When he finally does stop, thereâs a look on his face that youâve never seen before. He gets angry all the time, but this was something completely different, something unrecognizable.
He was hurt.
âSo you were just using me, huh?â
What? What is he talking about?
âUsing you for what?â
âTo lose your virginity. You just wanted to get it over with, right?â His voice is slightly hushed now, but still loud enough for you to feel embarrassed about anyone passing through the parking lot.
âHeeseung, what are you talking about?â
âYou used me to lose your virginity, so when you date other guys you can tell them youâve had sex before. Is that what this is?â
This accusation hurts, considering that Heeseung was the only guy youâve ever been interested in romantically and sexually. You donât know where this theory is coming from, but you donât like it.
Heeseung continues before you respond, âI tried reaching out and talking to you, and you just blew me off! And yet here you are giving your number to random guys! Am I not good enough for you?!â
âItâs not like that, Heeseung!â You donât mean to raise your voice at him, but you canât help it. Both of your emotions were at an all time high.
âThen what is it like?!â
Here goes nothing.
Thereâs already tears forming as you go to explain yourself. âI didnât reach out to you becauseâŠbecause I was embarrassed.â
âYou were embarrassed to have sex with me?â
This is bad; really, really bad. Much worse than you could have ever imagined.
Itâs started raining by now, and if Heeseung noticed it, then he doesnât seem to care; allowing the raindrops to stain his outfit and ruin his eye makeup.
It feels like a scene from a movie, him standing there in the pouring rain waiting for a response while you stumble over your words to formulate one.
âNo!â You yell in reassurance, âNo, no, no. Of course not. I was embarrassed because I know you didnât finish. I just thought maybe I did something wrong or maybe I didnât do enough.â
Heeseung quirks a brow at you, âWhat makes you think I didnât finish?â
You really hate that heâs making you explain this. âI saw the condom afterwards; it was empty.â
âYou went digging in my trash can to find the condom?â Now he looks more disgusted than confused; this is going so horribly.
âNo! I saw it when I went to get my phone off the charger.â
Heeseung takes a minute to process everything, scratching his chin in deep thought. You canât tell what heâs feeling, but he does look hurt. It makes you regret avoiding him in the first place.
âSo, you were prepared to never talk to me again over an empty condom?â Despite his tough demeanor, heâs clearly shaking as he questions you.
You want to say no, that it wasnât a case, but you canât bring yourself to lie to him again. So you say nothing. Heeseung nods at your lack of response before turning around and walking towards his car. You remain still, frozen in place, watching as he sits on the hood of his car and smokes a cigarette.
If it werenât for Chaeryeong finishing her movie within the next few minutes, you wouldâve walked the entire way home.
âââ
This bitch is driving you crazy.
Your older sister, Imogen, is home for a few days to start her wedding preparations. The fake bridezilla persona she's putting on bothers you the most, bursting out in tears at the most inconvenient times or having a breakdown about selecting a theme. Deep down, she doesn't care about any of this bullshit; she's like you about parties or big events.
"This is literally the biggest day of my life, and you're being so fucking difficult." Imogen snarls at you, pouring herself a cup of coffee. You're sitting a few feet away on the kitchen counter, staring out the kitchen window. Despite Imogen's occasional yelling and snarky comments, all you can think of is Heeseung.
It's been an entire week since the movie theater incident. You haven't stopped by the Lee household not once, telling Chaeryeong you fell ill and don't want to get her sick. It's another lame excuse, but she buys it, opting to talk to you on the phone daily until you recover.
You have yet to speak to Heeseung; but it's not like you've tried. The idea of messaging him on Facebook and not receiving a response makes you anxious, and it's hard to believe you subjected him to the same torture not long ago. It doesn't help that Scarlett is suddenly all over his page, commenting on nearly every one of his posts, writing on his wall, or tagging him in pictures. Your recurring dream of curb-stomping her is back in full force.
You sigh at your sister, "Whatever you say, Imogen."
She waves dismissively at you, "Please, don't even talk to me right now."
You hop off the counter in annoyance and stomp off towards the staircase, mumbling, "Fucking drama queen."
"Language." Your mom warns you, flipping through one of the several bridal magazines your sister has stacked on the coffee table.
Imogen scoffs, setting her mug on the counter. "I'm the drama queen? Whenever I talk about my wedding, you throw a fit."
"Why are you pretending to care about this stupid wedding and that stupid boy you barely even know?!" You shout back from the staircase.
This is probably the dumbest fight you've ever had.
Imogen doesnât respond to this, advised by your mother no to and to just let you stomp up the stairs in a furious rage. You make a beeline straight to your desktop, waking up the computer with a shake of the mouse and entering your password.
Facebook is already open once youâve signed in, Heeseungâs page staring right back at you. Youâre ashamed to admit youâd been cyber stalking him, but you really didnât have any other choice. Seeing him in person wouldâve been too much, but you still want to make sure heâs doing okay.
Thereâs a new post up when you refresh the page, you chew on your bottom lip as you anxiously wait for it to finish loading.
Itâs a picture of his dirty Chuck Taylorâs perched upon a wooden stool. You recognize the background immediately, heâs in the treehouse in his backyard. You and Chaeryeong would spend hours up there as kids, giving each other manicures and exchanging secrets; now you can barely look her in the eye without bursting out in tears. You hate how complicated things have become.
Thereâs a light tap against your door that has you swiveling around in your chair. Itâs Imogen, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed. âWhoâs that?â
âChaeryeongâs brother.â You respond, scrolling to a photo that actually shows his face.
Imogen steps further into your bedroom, squinting her eyes at the computer screen. âOh, yeah. Hasnât changed much, has he?â When you remain silent, she asks, âWould it be wrong of me to assume heâs the real reason why youâre so upset?â
You sigh, letting your shoulders drop. âYouâd be very correct, actually.â
She nods in understanding, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. âSo, whatâs going on? You like him?â
âWe kind of like each other, I guess.â You mumble. To be honest, youâre not quite sure how Heeseung feels about you right now.
âAnd Chaeryeong doesnât approve of it?â
You snort, âChaeryeong doesnât know. There was nothing to tell her at first, but things have changed.â
âAre you guys dating?â
âNo. We actually havenât talked in a week. I may have hurt his feelings.â
Imogen nods towards your desktop, âWhere is he now?â
You shrug, âHome, I guess.â
She stands, stretching out her limbs. She glances around your room, locates a jacket dangling lifelessly from your doorknob, and tosses it to you. âLetâs go.â
Taking an impromptu trip to the Lee household had you sweating. What if Heeseung doesnât even want to see you? What if Chaeryeong catches you talking and asks whatâs going on?
Each concern you raise is instantly shot down by Imogen, claiming youâre creating excuses to avoid seeing him, how youâre only imagining the worst possible scenarios. You appreciate her overwhelming support but canât help the nervousness creeping through your body as her car approaches the Lee household.
âRemember, be apologetic but not desperate,â Imogen informs you, putting her car in park in front of the house.
âI am desperate.â You remind her.
âWell, donât let him see it. You got this.â
You thank your sister one last time for the advice before stepping out of her car. Youâre careful to avoid being seen from windows as you make your way into the backyard; not entirely sure what youâd say if Chaeryeong were to catch you.
You scale the tree quickly, silently praying the old wooden steps are stable enough to hold your weight.
You sigh in relief once youâve reached the top, only to groan at the sight of Scarlett sitting across from you. She looks up from her iPod with a bright smile, quickly pulling out her earbuds as you enter the treehouse. âHey, stranger! Watcha doing here?â
Her enthusiasm really makes you sick. âCame to see Heeseung,â you pause to glance around the tiny, wooden deathtrap, âbut heâs nowhere to be found.â
âHeâll be back soon; went to use the bathroom,â Scarlett informs you, running her hands through her hair. âSo, you guys really like each other, huh?â
What? She knows about that?
âHeeseung told you?â You question, trying your best to appear unbothered. Youâre unsure where sheâs going with this, but you have no reason to trust her.
Scarlett nods, âWe tell each other everything. So when he told me you guys werenât talking, I may have devised a plan to help you come around. You do use Facebook, right?â She smirks
Holy shit, all the posts of them together were to make you feel jealous enough to have a conversation with him; and your sworn enemy was the mastermind behind it. It was all a ploy to get under your skin, and you fell right into the trap.
âYouâre a stubborn little thing, though. Didnât think itâd take you so long.â She comments, slipping her jacket on.
You shrug, âI didnât think heâd want to talk to me.â
âHeeseung always wants to talk to you. I donât mind it, though. You seem good for him.â
Aside from Chaeryeong, Scarlett is probably the last person you wouldâve expected to be supportive of your relationship with Heeseung. So, to hear sheâd been secretly rooting for you behind the scenes nearly gives you whiplash. You almost feel wrong about your dreams of shoving her face into the pavement.
You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, âSo, nothing is going on between you guys?â
Scarlett grimaces as if you deeply offended her, âOf course not! Donât get me wrong, heâs cute, but not my type. His sister is cute, though.â
Woah.
âChaeryeong? Lee Chaeryeong? Youâre into her?â You ask, completely stunned.
âHell yes. Hey, do you think you could set us up? Heeseung would never.â
âYou do know that Chaeryeong canât stand you, right?â
Scarlett excitedly nods, âI know, itâs kind of a turn-on.â
You hold your hands out to stop her from elaborating any further. Scarlett has surprised you in more ways than one in less than five minutes. Youâre sure any new information wouldâve made your head explode.
âIâllâŠtry my best.â You promise; not quite sure how Chaeryeong would feel about the idea of Scarlett liking her.
âFor what?â A voice interrupts, causing you and Scarlett to direct your attention to the treehouseâs entrance. And there he is, in all his gothic glory.
âGirl talk, none of your business,â Scarlett responds, making room for Heeseung to crawl in.
âFine. You keep your secrets; Iâll keep mine.â Heeseung groans, sitting between the two of you.
âWill do. Iâm outta here. Got a hot date with a box of hair dye. See you suckers later.â Scarlett waves goodbye as she exits the treehouse, reminding you of your promise before disappearing down the steps.
Heeseung clears his throat, sweeping his hair away from his eyes. "Soâ"
"I'm sorry," you cut him off, "I should've reached out and talked to you, but I was just too embarrassed and didn't know how to approach you about it. I really like you, and I wasn't using you to lose my virginity. I mean, you're the only person I've ever been interested in. So, again, I'm sorry."
He sighs, "I understand why you were embarrassed, but I promise it had nothing to do with you."
"Then what was it?"
Heeseung anxiously scratches the back of his head before he responds. "It's just thatâŠsometimesâŠit takes me a little bit longer to, uhâŠto finish."
Oh.
"Is it because of yourâŠsize?" You can't help but wonder.
Heeseung snorts, "What, you think I'm big?"
"I'm out of here." You joke, faking as if you're about to leave.
"Wait, wait, wait." He stops you, "I was only kidding. I never really thought size played a factor in it, but every guy is different. But, still, that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy us having sex. I mean, you had already finished, and I didn't want to tire you out just for my sake."
Knowing he had a perfectly reasonable explanation makes you feel even worse about spending all that time avoiding him. You want to tell him you wouldn't mind him tiring you out, that the idea excites you, but you refrain.
A beat of silence passes, and you ask, "But, I'm sure if there's something that you're really into, then it wouldn't take as long for you to finish. Right?"
Heeseung nods, "I guess."
"Then, what is it? What are you into?"
He coughs, tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. "UmâŠI guess I'm intoâŠroughness?"
Ah.
"That's not a big deal. A lot of people are probably into that."
"I mean, it's fine either way, but I mostly prefer when girls are kinda rough with me. Fuck, this is embarrassing."
"It's not!" You reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his knee, "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me."
Heeseung stares at your hand on his knee before placing his own on top. You twist yours upwards and interlock your fingers, not missing the smile that forms on his face. His bangs have swept into his eyes again, and you use your free hand to move them out of the way. "It was my first time, too, by the way."
You snort, "You don't need to say that just to make me feel better."
"I'm serious," he continues, "I mean, I've gotten pretty handsy in the past, but nothing like what we did."
You shake your head, "I don't buy it. You seemed so experienced like you knew what you were doing."
Heeseung shrugs, "I mean, I'm not completely innocent. I may occasionally watch certain videos and read certain stories from time to time."
Porn and smut. Beautiful combination.
He shakes his head, "You still don't believe me; how come?"
You sigh, memories of the night before he left for college flashing in your mind. How you ran home in tears, how he only responded to Scar's comment on Chaeryeong's Facebook post. It almost hurts to think about. "The night before you left for school, there was an opened condom wrapper on your floor. I just figuredâŠyou know."
Heeseung nods at the memory. "I wasn't gonna go to the dorms the next day. I was planning on running away, that's why I gave you that bandana. After my parents helped bring my stuff to the dorms, I was gonna put everything in my car then take off."
You're having a hard time processing this information. Why would Heeseung plan on running away? What does this story have to do with the empty condom?
He continues, clutching your hand even tighter. "I only told a few people I was leaving, and there was this one girl who came over to say goodbye. She'd been really into me for a while and was heartbroken that I was leaving. We were about to hook up, hence the condom wrapper, but I couldn't do it."
"Why?" You question.
"Didn't feel right. I wasn't into her the same way she was into me. Just couldn't do it." He explains, eyes staring deep into yours. You believe him; you know he's being truthful.
"What made you decide to stay?" You ask.
"For Chaeryeong," he answers, "I couldn't just leave her like that. And for you, too."
Though you've felt it for many years, telling Heeseung you love him is too soon. But you want to, so very badly.
"I'm glad you decided to stay." Your voice is barely a whisper now as you try to stop yourself from tearing up.
He nods, "Me too."
You sit in comfortable silence for a minute, clutching each other's hands. You wish you could stay like this forever.
"I just realized you never told me if there's anything you're into." He points out.
You shrug, "Just you." And it's true: Heeseung is the only person you've ever been interested in. Everything he says and does is genuinely attractive to you.
He drops your hand gently, using it to tilt your head towards him, and he kisses you.
You're quick to cradle the back of his head as his hands snake around your waist, deepening the kiss. You move to straddle his lap, slowly pushing him onto his back. He grunts in surprise, breaking away from the kiss. "Youâ"
"Stop talking." You demand before your lips intertwine with his once again. With one hand on his chest, you reach to grab a fistful of his hair and tug lightly, earning a satisfied moan from him. You're not used to being rough with guys, but you're sure Heeseung enjoys it with the way his erection is pressing up against your thigh.
Reluctantly, you pull away from him and sit up, staring at him sprawled underneath you in complete awe. "Alright, I'll message you my number so we can text. See you later."
"No! No, no, no. Please don't go." He pleads, holding you in place when you go to stand, "Just stay a little longer, please."
You smile down at him, fighting the urge to stay in the treehouse. "I can't. Imogen is waiting out front. We'll see each other soon, okay?" You promise, planting a kiss on his forehead.
Heeseung nods, drumming against the floor as he watches you crawl out of the treehouse. "Don't be too surprised if I seem extra excited to see you next time." He calls after you.
"Trust me, I won't."
âââ
Heeseung is the first boy to ever sneak in through your bedroom window.
He carelessly tosses his backpack in first, cringing when it lands on your carpeted floor with a loud thud. Though youâve assured him your parents are heavy sleepers, heâs still worried youâll get in trouble if he makes too much noise and accidentally reveals himself. âSorry,â he apologizes, hand gripping your forearm as you help pull him in.
âItâs fine,â you whisper back, âtheyâre not gonna wake up.â
âStill,â he grunts, using his upper body strength to pull him further into your room. âDonât want you getting in trouble.â
Itâs a day after the treehouse incident; as promised, you sent Heeseung your number and spent all day texting back and forth. Despite not being big on texting, you admire how Heeseung likes to keep you updated on what heâs doing and how he checks up on you to ensure youâre okay.
âWeâll be fine, but just in case, I did make room for you in my closet in case you have to hide.â You inform him.
Heeseung stifles a laugh, âGood to know.â He settles himself on the edge of your bed, moving over once he realizes heâd sat on a pile of clothing. âOh, were you about to shower?â
âI was,â you answer, moving the clothing over to your nightstand, âbut Iâll wait until after you leave.â
He has to stop himself from making a joke about joining you in the shower. He nods, leaning down to drag his backpack towards him, âGuess what I got today.â
âWhat?â You question, legs folded underneath your body as you sit beside him.
Heeseung slowly unzips his backpack, careful not to make too much noise before rummaging through it and clutching something in his hand. He momentarily turns his back towards you, clips something to his shirt, then turns back around.
Thereâs a name tag on his chest now with his name scribbled in black ink and a little star next to it. âA job?â
He nods, âAt that music store, Spin City. Need to start saving up before classes start. Plus, I wanna take you out somewhere nice before summerâs over.â
You gulp, âLike, a date?â
âYeah. I mean, unless⊠I donât know. I just kinda figuredâŠâ He trails off, suddenly worried he may be scaring you off.
You grab ahold of his hand, âI know, and trust me, youâre perfect, and I want us to be together. But, the night we saw you at that party, I did ask Chaeryeong if she would be upset if I was into you. Surprisingly, she said she wouldnât mind as long as I talked to her before making a move on you. And, wellâŠâ
âWe made a move on each other without telling her,â Heeseung finishes for you.
You nod, âExactly.â
He sighs, âSo, Iâm guessing that means you wanna wait before we make things official.â
âYeah. No matter what, I still want to be with you. But itâd be best for all of us to get her on board with this first. Show her how much we truly care for each other, and make sure sheâs okay with it. So she knows my relationship with you wonât affect our friendship, and vice versa.â You explain. Heeseungâs eyes never stray from yours, listening intently and nodding at everything you say.
âThatâs fair,â he agrees, âItâs a good idea. Do you want me to talk to her? Or for us to talk to her together?â
You shake your head, âSheâll definitely freak out on you; itâs best if I do it alone first, then you talk to her afterward.â
Heeseung leans back against your bed, resting his head on your pillow. Itâs funny how different your aesthetics are; he looks perfectly out of place, sprawled on your baby pink pillow surrounded by teddy bears. âWhen?â
âI dunno,â you respond, lowering yourself until your head rests comfortably on his bicep. âDoesnât have to be right away. As long as itâs before we move into the dorms.â
âWe shouldnât wait too long, though. Itâll only make things worse.â Heeseung mumbles, pulling you closer to him.
âI know. Iâll have a talk with her soon, I promise.â
You interlock pinkies to solidify your promise and ease his nerves. You hadnât realized how anxiety-inducing this was for Heeseung as well. The idea of Chaeryeong not approving of your relationship had him genuinely worried.
âBut, you should know that no matter whatââ he starts.
You cut him off, âI know.â
âââ
The hands that once purposely dumped slime in your hair are now tugging your panties down your legs.
âCan we try something?â Heeseung asks with a mumble against your lips, your soft blue underwear now clutched in the palm of his hand.
âLike what? I actually make you come for once?â You joke, earning a laugh from Heeseung.
âDonât worry about me.â He presses another kiss against your lips, âYou trust me?â
âOf course.â You respond, sitting up in Heeseungâs bed as he moves backward, never breaking eye contact with you. He pushes your skirt up slightly but pats your hand away when you go to remove it altogether.
âLeave it on.â He commands, bringing himself at face level with your cunt.
Youâve never felt this shy in your life, grateful your bunched-up skirt created the tiniest barrier between having Heeseung see you all flustered. Never had you been this intimate with a guy, especially not a guy you technically werenât even dating.
His thumb is circling your clit before you have the time to protest, to tell him he doesnât have to do this just for your sake, but the feeling of his fingers pressed against you has you at a loss for words.
âThis okay?â He asks.
âYeah.â You respond, tilting your head upwards to stare at the ceiling.
Before you know it, his middle and index fingers are pressed against your opening, eliciting a gasp from your lips. At your reaction, Heeseung slips his finger into your entrance, thumb still playing with your clit. He insists on being teasingly slow today, wanting to draw out every moment and observe your reaction.
He pumps his fingers in and out of you in a slow, consistent motion, an amused smirk on his lips when he hears your breathing become ragged. Abruptly, he slips his fingers out of you, moving your thighs to rest them atop his shoulders.
âWait, you donât have toâoh fuck.â Youâre cut off by Heeseung pushing himself forward, placing a sudden kiss on your clit that has your hips jolting in the air. His hand grabs your waist and licks at your slit, keeping you in place as he gently returns your body to his mattress.
His growing erection is the last of his worries, all too focused on dragging his tongue across your cunt. He flattens his tongue, pulling the wetness upward until heâs circling your clit again. In search of something to grab onto, your hands grip the bed sheets until Heeseung reaches forward, moving your hand over to grip his hair.
His eyes are closed when you look down at him, and you swear you can hear him moan as he eats you out. You try your best to keep the noise down out of fear someone will hear, but you canât help but yell out when heâs back to fingering you, all while circling your clit with his tongue.
Your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face further into your pussy, and he lets out a satisfied groan. Itâs embarrassing how quickly your orgasm approaches; everything with Heeseung is so intense. He knows this, eyes fluttering open to watch your expressions. Black eyeshadow is smeared across his eyelids as his eyes focus on your own, hands gripping your thighs as he tongue circles your clit.
His fingers are relentlessly pumping into your cunt now, contrasting against how teasingly slow his tongue is moving. He pulls his mouth away, lips glistening with your arousal, and asks, âYou close?â
You donât respond directly, but the grip you have on his hair gives him all the answers he needs before heâs diving back in. It doesnât take much for you to come after that, a final kiss pressed on your clit, sending you over the edge and coating Heeseungâs fingers.
Heeseung doesnât stop there, still continuing to lick and suck your clit until youâre begging him to stop from the overstimulation.
âSorry.â He apologizes, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, âWas that good?â
âThat was literally the best thing thatâs ever happened to me.â You respond. Heeseung lets out a laugh as he crawls up next to you. âI should be upset with you, though.â
âWhat?â He questions, peppering your face with kisses, âWhyâs that?â
âI came over to talk to your sister about us, and you distracted me.â
âHowâd I do that?â
âBecause! You came downstairs in your eyeshadow. Then you were all like, âOh, hey. I cleaned my room; wanna check it out?ââ You mimic a deep voice that sounds nothing like his.
âI apologize for putting on eyeshadow, bringing you to my room, and eating you out. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?â
âI guess.â
You both laugh at this as you move to pull your skirt down. âHey, howâd you realize you like it when girls are rough with you?â
Heeseung shakes his head as the memory returns to him, a shy smile on his face as he glances over at you. âA little while ago, I was picking on Chaeryeong for something. I donât even remember why, but it got to the point where my parents were telling me to stop, and I wouldnât. Then, you just started yelling at me out of nowhere, and I donât know why, but it was the hottest thing ever. I was in awe. I really thought you were gonna slap me. Since then, itâs just been a turn-on of mine.â
âWow. Thatâs actually kind of pathetic.â You tease.
He groans, âPlease donât say that. Youâre gonna make me hard again.â
Laughter is shared between you once again before you lean your head down to rest on his chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat making you feel calm. A comfortable minute of silence passes before you have to address the unfortunate inevitable, âChaeryeong should be here soon, right?â
âYeah,â Heeseung mumbles, âwithin the next ten minutes.â
You sigh, âNext time I come over, Iâll have to tell her about us.â
âââ
The next time you stop by the Lee household, Heeseung has you bent over in the backseat of his car.
His finger digs into your waist as his cock is plunging into you at full force, emptying all the thoughts from your brain. You still havenât fully adjusted to his size, but you donât care; the pain of being split open makes you come faster. It feels better.
Heeseung insisted on taking things slow, telling you that youâd need to adjust to his size, but the moment you sunk your dripping cunt onto him, he was under your spell.
Your body lunges forward with every rough stroke Heeseung gives you, hands buried in your hair as he pulls you up against his chest. His hand moves from your hair down to your neck, tilting your head back while applying the slightest bit of pressure against your throat. Your eyes close out of instinct as tears form in the corner of your eyes before trickling down your cheeks. He kisses them away one by one before settling his lips on your neck. You make a mental note to check yourself for hickeys afterward.
Youâre coming around him before you realize it, body spasming as you grip the driverâs seat headrest. Heeseung shows no signs of stopping or slowing down; in fact, heâs sped up even faster since fucking you through your orgasm. He lets go of your neck to push down on your back, left hand gripping your waist while the right intertwines your fingers with his.
A few strokes later, heâs finally coming and jokes about showing you the used condom as confirmation.
You shake your head, gesturing for him to pass you the shorts heâd tossed in the front seat. âI canât believe I let you trick me again.â
âWhat?!â He exclaims in utter shock, reaching in the front seat to grab your discarded clothing, âHow exactly did I trick you?â
âI came over to talk to Chaeryeong, but then you were all like, âHey, come look at my car; I just got it washed.ââ You playfully roll your eyes, searching around the backseat for your underwear.
âCan I keep these?â He asks suddenly, the most nonchalant expression on his face as your panties dangle from his middle finger.
You scoff, reaching to snatch them from him, confused when he retracts his hand. âI think I will keep them until you talk to Chaeryeong. Since it was you who wanted to talk to her first.â
âThen, I guess Iâll get them back tomorrow because Iâm definitely talking to her today.â
Except you donât.
You spent the entire summer sneaking around with Heeseung and procrastinating about having that talk with Chaeryeong. It was anxiety-inducing, to say the least, and you had no idea how sheâd react. You tell yourself she wonât be upset as long as you assure her your friendship wonât be affected by you dating her brother.
Youâre scheduled to move into the dorms within a few weeks, so itâs best to sort things out now before you all live under the same roof, unable to avoid one another. Heeseung doesnât seem nervous at all. In fact, heâd given you a pep-talk the day before you showed up at their home.
âShe canât stay mad forever.â He pointed out, eyes sealed shut as you do his eyeliner.
âI know,â you mumbled, adjusting yourself on his lap, âbut that girl can hold a grudge.â
âRight, but this is you weâre talking about. You mean a lot to her, to both of us, actually.â
His words play in your mind as you enter the Lee household, following Chaeryeong into the kitchen. âBaking something?â You ask, a sweet, decadent scent hitting your nose.
âBrownies for some stupid bake sale my parents are having. Help me clean up?â She asks, pouting her lips at you.
âSure.â You agree, under the assumption that there wouldnât be much to even clean up.
Boy, you were wrong. Itâs like Chaeryeong used every dish in the house to make one sheet of brownies. Thereâs no backing out now; you already agreed to help, and itâd be best to stay on her good side for now.
She gets to work rinsing each dish before handing them to you to load the dishwasher, moving quickly to get everything done faster.
âWhat a beautiful friendship.â A familiar voice comments; you fight back a smile as Chaeryeong groans at her brother.
âYou wouldnât know; you donât have any friends,â Chaeryeong responds, laughing at her words.
âNeither will you, soon,â Heeseung whispers back, groaning when you swat him in the chest. âAny brownie batter left?â
âNone for you. Shouldnât you be at work?â Chaeryeong asks, handing you another dish.
Chaeryeong takes a break from rinsing off the dishes to bicker with Heeseung for a minute. You tune out from the conversation, dipping your fingers into the leftover batter bowl and gathering the chocolate on your fingers.
âIâm leaving, Iâm leaving,â Heeseung says. When Chaeryeong finally directs her attention elsewhere, Heeseung takes the opportunity to grab your wrist, bringing your fingers up to his lips before sucking the chocolate off them.
Your eyes practically bulge out of your head, nervously glancing behind you to ensure Chaeryeong hadnât seen anything. You swat at Heeseungâs chest for the second time, and he laughs as if youâre being overly dramatic. Itâs odd how surprisingly calm he is about everything. His demeanor would have worried you if you didnât trust him so much.
Heeseung wipes the renaming bit of chocolate around his lips before mouthing âGood luck.â You give him a nervous smile, watching as he slips past Chaeryeong and leaves out the front door. You get back to work, making small talk with Chaeryeong as you help her load the dishwasher.
Itâs now or never.
âSo,â you start, âweâre gonna be living together soon.â
Chaeryeong smiles, âFinally! God, I canât wait to have some freedom. My stupid curfew is a major cock-block. Right when things are finally getting good on a date, I have to go back home. So fucking frustrating. Thereâs literally cobwebs in my vagina.â
You snort, loading the final dish into the washer. âWell, you wonât have that problem anymore.â
âI know. And maybe youâll even find someone worthy even to date you.â Chaeryeong jokes, hopping on the kitchen counter.
âUh, what if I already have found someoneâŠworthy enough?â You question, pressing a few buttons to get the dishwasher going.
âAs if.â
âChaeryeong, Iâm serious.â
She sighs, still not buying your confession. âAlright then, who is it?â
â...Your brother.â
A beat of silence passes, and then Chaeryeong doubles over in laughter, nearly slipping off the counter several times in a matter of seconds. It takes her a minute to catch her breath, clutching her collar for support as she regulates her breathing; even tears are forming in her eyes. âHoly fuck, can you imagine? You and my brother? Jesus Christ.â
âLook, there isnât an easy way to say this, but we really do like each other. Weâve beenâŠtogether this whole summer. Well, not officially; I didnât want to put a label on anything without talking to you about it first.â You finally confess. The weight on your shoulders doesnât immediately drop as you expected; itâs like the load has gotten heavier.
Chaeryeong has a blank expression as she stares at you, eyes darting around the kitchen as she processes the information. âYouâre serious?â
You nod.
She shakes her head, eyes closed as she asks,âWhat kind of friend are you? Youâre that desperate for a boyfriend you go after the only boy you know? My brother?â
Fuck.
âChaeryeong, please, let meââ
She cuts you off, hopping off the counter and inching towards you. âSo, what? All this time, you were using me to get close to Heeseung? Out of every fucking guy on the planet? Ones that have spent years throwing themself at you?â
âNo! Of course not! Chaeryeong, I never even imagined myself in a relationship with him until this summer, I swear!â Your voice trembles as Chaeryeong approaches you.
âOh, really? You expect me to believe that, huh? So itâs just a coincidence that you guys suddenly got together right before weâre all gonna be living in the same building?â
âI know it doesnât sound great, butââ
âI think you should go.â Chaeryeong cuts you off calmly, her sudden change in demeanor shocking you. A moment ago, she looked angry enough to hit you, but now, she seems a few seconds away from breaking down in tears.
You nod understandably, telling Chaeryeong to take all the time she needs and to call you when sheâs ready to talk.
She doesnât say a word as you exit her house, and you wonder if youâve just lost the best friend youâve ever had.
âââ
âIâve never seen her this angry, Heeseung. I thought she was gonna hit me or something.â You groan, ear pressed up against your phone as you rant to Heeseung.
It's been a few hours since you left Chaeryeongâs house; Heeseung had promised to call you during his break to hear how the conversation went. Youâre still shaking as the memories flood back to you, how your best friend in the world accused you of using her. What a fucking joke.
âSheâll get over it, trust me. Yâknow, before I called you, she spent five minutes yelling at me over the phone. Five fucking minutes, and I just took it. Sheâll be fine.â He says, following up with a loud slurping noise that suggests Heeseung has chosen to have ramen for lunch.
Itâs astonishing how calm heâs managed to stay this entire time.
You flip over on the couch, head resting on the armrest as you stare at the ceiling. âI just donât wanna lose her. Sheâs a fireball, for sure, but sheâs my fireball. I donât know what Iâd do without her.â
âI just told you youâre not gonna be without her, okay?â
â...Okay.â
Thereâs a knock at your front door, most likely from the pizza delivery Heeseung had sent to your house.
âI gotta go. The food is here. Are you still stopping by after your shift?â
âOf course. You gonna be alright?â
âYeah,â you stand, making your way to the front door. âIâll save you some pizza.â
He chuckles at that, âYou better. Iâll see you later, okay? I love you.â
He what?
âYou what?â You pause, hand on the doorknob.
âI love you, and Iâll see you later.â He hangs up.
You donât have time to process his words; the knocking at your front door happens again.
Twisting the knob, youâre met with Chaeryeong staring back at you. âChaeryeong? Whatâre youââ
âI donât care if you date Heeseung.â She claims, storming through your front door, âIf you guys want to be together, then Iâm not standing in the way. But I will not be your friend if you date him, so itâs either him or me.â
You follow Chaeryeong into your living room, your pulse quickening upon hearing her ultimatum. âChaeryeong, thatâs notââ
âBefore you chooseâŠas a girl, and as your friend, I have to be completely honest with you.â She sighs, fingers nervously raking through her hair as she sits on your couch. âI called Heeseung after you left, and he talked to me about you guys.â
You nod, taking a seat next to her. âOkay, andâŠ?â
She sighs again, taking your hand in her own. âEverything heâs ever told you was a lie.â
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