Jun 23
THE WONDERfools 원더풀스 | 2026, Ep. 2
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THE WONDERfools 원더풀스 | 2026, Ep. 2
● ● ♡ ● ●
THE WEIGHT OF THE EMPTINESS - Cha Eunwoo x Reader.
Summary: Three knocks on the door in the dead of night and the exact same scenario as always: Cha Eunwoo returns broken, covered in rain and blood after yet another senseless fight. To the college campus, he is just a troubled, dangerous boy; to her, he is a lost soul who looks for the silence in the blows that his own mind refuses to give him.
Warnings: Cha Eunwoo badboy!, Cha Eunwoo x reader, mention of Blood, street fighting.
Words: 3k
A/N: English is not my first lenguage, srry ♡
The rain lashed against the apartment windows with violence, a dull, constant sound that seemed to want to splinter the glass to flood the haven of warmth she had built. It was one of those nights when the outside world felt hostile and deeply broken.
Inside, the only sound was the ticking of the wall clock. The hands marked 2:13 in the morning when three sharp, heavy knocks echoed against the wood of the front door. They weren't the knocks of someone timidly asking for permission; they were the knocks of someone holding themselves upright by sheer force of will.
She, who had been sitting in the dim light of the couch for over an hour with a now-cold cup of tea between her hands, didn't need to ask who it was.
Her chest tightened in a sudden flutter; only one person called at her door at those hours of the morning, breathing with a broken haste, as if he had just run miles fleeing from his own demons or as if he had tried to tear the whole world down with his fists.
She stood up, dragging her bare feet across the carpet, and turned the key with clumsy fingers due to the sudden rush of adrenaline. As she pulled the handle, the cold from the hallway slipped into the entryway, bringing with it the scent of wet asphalt.
There he was.
Cha Eunwoo.
The doorframe seemed barely able to contain him. His dark, straight hair was soaked by the rain, plastered to his forehead in messy strands that dripped over his eyebrows. His white shirt, usually pristine, was wrinkled, unbuttoned at the top two buttons, and stained with dirt on the shoulders beneath a black coat heavy with accumulated water.
But what froze her breath wasn’t his disheveled clothes; it was his face.
There was a thin line of already dried blood starting at the corner of his plump lips and descending toward his jawline. Above his left eyebrow, a fresh, open cut glistened under the hallway light, threatening to drip into his eye. The knuckles of his right hand were completely reddened, scraped raw, with the bare skin exposed. His eyes—those deep, black eyes—were bloodshot, carrying a wild spark that refused to die out entirely.
And yet…
Yet, in the millisecond Eunwoo’s pupils focused on her, something inside that structure of stone and rage crumbled.
The tension in his shoulders gave way, and his mouth barely curved into a grimace that intended to be an apology.
"Hey," he murmured. His voice sounded hoarser than usual, rough, tired from the exertion and the cold of the street.
She felt her heart drop like lead straight into her stomach. Compassion and anger battled in her chest, but the sight of that swaying body won the fight.
"Oh my God..." she whispered, stepping back to give him space. "What happened this time?"
Eunwoo let out a brief laugh, a bitter sound without a hint of joy that ended in a wince of pain when his split lip stretched too far. He brought a hand to the side of his torso, carefully pressing his ribs.
"You should ask what didn't happen," he replied, trying to maintain that tone of self-sufficiency he used as a shield, even though his eyes betrayed him completely.
She didn't want to play his game. She knew that invincible-boy facade all too well.
She opened the door completely.
"Come in."
● ● ●
Eunwoo walked forward slowly, dragging his feet. With every step he took inside, he left a trail of small raindrops, mud, and a exhaustion so dense it seemed to fill the room. She closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood for a second, trying to control the trembling running through her hands.
It wasn't the first time this had happened.
Nor the second, and the certainty that this was turning into a damn cycle was what caused her the most panic.
Eunwoo took off his damp coat with slow movements, holding his breath every time he extended his arms. As he shed the heavy garment, the living room light revealed the magnitude of the disaster: beneath his jawline, dark, purplish bruises were already beginning to bloom, contrasting painfully with the almost porcelain paleness of his skin.
"They hit you hard..." she said, stepping closer to him, her eyes fixed on the mark on his neck.
"They look worse," Eunwoo shot back immediately, straightening his back with an absurd pride—the very same pride that drove him into those dark alleys to look for fights.
"Eunwoo."
It was just one word. His name spoken in a low whisper, heavy with a warning.
Her tone accomplished what no rival had managed that night: making him lower his head. Eunwoo shifted his gaze to the floor, unable to hold her eyes. Because in that fraction of a second, he realized she was looking at him with deep worry, a bone-deep disappointment, and an enormous affection. It was the only combination on the planet capable of piercing through his armor and making him feel an immense amount of guilt.
"Sit on the couch. Don't move," she ordered softly, breaking the silence.
She disappeared down the hallway toward the bathroom. Left alone, Eunwoo let himself fall onto the couch, sinking into it as if his muscles had decided to stop working. He rested his head against the backrest and closed his eyes, listening to the patter of the rain and the clinking of jars in the other room.
She returned carrying the small white plastic first-aid kit, placing it on the coffee table with a dull thud, and began to pull out the inventory: cotton, sterile gauze, alcohol, cleansing saline, a bottle of antiseptic, and adhesive bandages.
She knelt on the carpet right in front of him, bringing herself to his eye level.
"Look at me, Eunwoo."
He obeyed slowly, opening his heavy eyelids.
She extended both hands and took his face with extreme gentleness, resting her palms on his cheeks, precisely avoiding the swollen areas. That physical contrast nearly destroyed his composure. Her fingers were warm, soft, smelling of red berries cream and home; they were the absolute contradiction to the violence and coldness still burning on his skin. Eunwoo held his breath, letting himself yield to her touch, as if fearing that if he moved too much, she would leave.
"This is going to sting," she warned him, uncapping the antiseptic bottle and soaking a piece of white cotton.
"It doesn’t matter. I don't feel anything."
"Of course it matters," she corrected him in a whisper, bringing the gauze to his forehead. "Everything about you matters too much, even if you insist on treating yourself like trash."
With millimetric movements, she pressed the dampened cotton against the cut on his eyebrow. Eunwoo clenched his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly as a spasm rippled across his face. His fingers dug into the fabric of the couch, but he didn't let out a single groan.
"How many were there?" she asked, trying to distract him from the physical pain, though her own voice trembled.
"Five," he spat through his teeth.
Her hand stopped dead in its tracks, suspended millimeters from his face. Her eyes widened in horror.
"Five? Are you insane? They could have killed you, Eunwoo!"
"I'm fine, I already told you. I'm still alive."
"That doesn't mean anything and you know it perfectly well! One bad blow, an unfortunate fall against the edge of the curb and... and you wouldn't be here telling this."
Eunwoo opened his eyes and found himself absorbed in watching her profile, illuminated by the warm light of the living room lamp. He could see her furrowed brow, the way her lips pressed into a thin line as she tried with all her might not to burst into tears from the stress and helplessness. She always did that—she tried to stay as steady as a rock.
"One of them pulled out a broken bottle," he let out suddenly, without a filter, as if he needed to purge the venom.
She looked up immediately, panic standard across her features.
"What?"
"He tried to go for my neck," he continued, with a coldness that turned her blood to ice. "But he didn't get to use it. I broke his wrist before he could make a move."
The color completely drained from her face, leaving her pale under the light. The cotton slipped from her fingers straight onto the carpet.
"Are you crazy? Are you really losing your mind?"
"Probably," he answered, averting his gaze with a cynical smile that failed to hide the misery in his eyes.
"No, Eunwoo, I'm serious! This isn't a game, this isn't a damn action movie!"
Her voice broke on the last word, revealing the deep-seated fear crossing her chest.
That crack in her voice silenced him instantly. The arrogance vanished from Eunwoo as if it had been wiped away with a damp cloth. Because he could handle the punches to his ribs, he could handle blood blurring his vision, he could handle ending up sprawled in a dark alley with the taste of iron in his mouth. He endured all of that without blinking. But never, under any circumstances, could he stand to see her suffer because of him.
She set the medical supplies aside and hid her face in her hands for a second, taking a deep breath, forcing the air into her lungs to regain her composure.
"I don't understand why you do this..." she said, her voice faint, exhausted. "You're twenty-four years old, Eunwoo. You're in college, you have a future, your life is supposed to be starting, not destroying itself in fights."
Eunwoo rested both elbows on his knees, leaning forward, letting his wet hair hide his eyes as he stared blankly at a dead spot on the carpet.
"Because they start it," he muttered, his fists clenched. "They look for trouble."
"And you never know how to stop. You always deliver the final blow, you always look to push it to the extreme."
Silence settled into the room again, dense and suffocating, interrupted only by the drops hitting the glass.
She exhaled a long sigh and returned to her task. Taking a clean piece of gauze, she began to wipe away the dried blood staining the corner of Eunwoo's mouth. This time she did it with an almost reverent care, as if dealing with a piece of glass on the verge of shattering. As she closed the distance, Eunwoo stared intently up at her; his black eyes, framed by long, damp eyelashes, held an intensity that stole her breath away.
She tried to avoid eye contact and concentrated all her attention on his split lip, because she knew it was dangerous to look deep into those pupils. It was hard to keep a cool head, hard to stay angry when he looked at her with that mixture of devotion and affection. Even covered in wounds, even broken and stained, Cha Eunwoo still possessed a tragic beauty and a commanding presence.
"You should report these things to the university police," she said, trying to fill the void with logical words. "If those guys ambush you, it's a crime."
"It’s useless," he spat, without moving. "Laws don't stop guys who just want to watch the world burn. Only a punch to the jaw stops them."
"Does fighting actually do any good? Does it fix your life?"
Eunwoo let out a breath through his nose, and a dry laugh rumbled from his chest.
"At least... at least for a few minutes, I stop feeling empty."
The confession fell between them with a brutal weight. She stopped her hand completely, freezing with the gauze halfway between her face and his. Because finally, after months of evasions, cheap excuses, and lies, Eunwoo had said something real.
There was no arrogance in his voice, no sarcasm, none of that indifference he used to respond to the rest of the world.
He had used the exact word: Empty.
She slowly lifted her gaze to connect with his eyes. And for the first time all night, she discovered the real Eunwoo behind the mask of the troubled boy. He looked truly tired. It wasn't the physical fatigue of dodging punches for half an hour; it was a tiredness of the soul, an internal fatigue he had been dragging around for years, which college or fighting only managed to temporarily anesthetize.
She set the medical supplies back onto the coffee table slowly, temporarily giving up on finishing cleaning the rest of his scratches.
"Come here," she said, opening her arms slightly.
Eunwoo furrowed his brow a bit, blinking in bewilderment, as if he didn't understand the language she was speaking.
"What? I'm dirty, I'll get blood on your clothes..."
"Just come here, Eunwoo. I don't care about the clothes."
He obeyed without further argument. He slid across the couch, shortening the physical distance between them, leaning his large frame forward until he could wrap his long arms around her waist, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.
And then everything broke.
That boy who instilled fear in the campus hallways with his difficult temperament, that man who returned home covered in combat marks and pent-up rage, crumbled completely every time she held him that way. His shoulders began to tremble subtly—not from crying, because Eunwoo had forgotten how to cry a long time ago—but from the brutal release of tension.
He pressed his forehead against her shoulder, closing his eyes tightly, inhaling the scent emanating from her skin. She felt his heavy, hot, and ragged breath hitting her neck.
"I don't want to get a call from the police one of these days," she whispered, holding him tighter, burying her fingers in his damp hair. "I don't want them calling me from a hospital to tell me you ended up in the ER... or something worse, Eunwoo. I couldn't bear it."
Eunwoo swallowed hard, feeling a bitter knot in his throat.
"It won't happen. I know how to defend myself."
"You can't promise that. Nobody is invincible, and you are not made of stone no matter how hard you try."
He didn't answer. He kept a heavy silence because he knew she was absolutely right. One bad step, a rival armed with something more than a bottle, and his story would end in some dark alleyway in the city.
She began to stroke his hair with slow, steady movements, trying to comb through the stubborn strands that were drying in a messy tangle.
"What are you trying to prove to the world by fighting anyone who looks at you wrong, Eunwoo? What are you looking to win?"
The boy took a long time to answer. The silence was broken only by the storm outside.
"I want to prove that I'm not afraid of anything," he finally confessed. "That if they hit me, I can give the blow back with twice the force. That nobody can walk all over me."
She pulled back just a few centimeters, enough to force him to look her straight in the eyes. Her hands rose to cradle his battered jaw, with a tenderness that contrasted with the rawness of his words.
"But you are afraid of something, Eunwoo. And you know it."
The boy's eyes wavered, losing the steadiness that usually characterized them. He tried to turn his face away, but her hands kept him in place.
"You are terrified of standing still with yourself," she spoke softly, cutting deep with the truth into the center of his chest. "You panic in the silence, because when you are still, you have to think about everything that hurts you. That's why you look for the noise of the blows."
The silence following her words was brutal, almost physical.
Nobody in the world understood him like she did. Nobody possessed that ability to read between the lines of his impulsive violence. To the university, Cha Eunwoo was simply the troubled student dragging disciplinary files; to the professors, a lost cause with wasted talent; to the other guys, someone dangerous best avoided on a night out.
But her... she knew the boy who stayed awake at night because nightmares wouldn't let him breathe. She knew the young man who clenched his fists until they bled when memories of his family past became too vivid. She knew he sought out physical altercations just to experience a physical pain—something real that he could cure with bandages, instead of the dull, constant anger eating away at his chest from the inside.
Feeling so exposed before another person caused a wave of vulnerability to rush through him, making him uncomfortable.
"Don't look at me like that," he murmured, narrowing his eyes.
"Like what?"
"Like there's still something good in me. Like it's worth losing the night wiping away my blood."
She offered a tragic smile, her eyes glassy with small tears she refused to let fall.
"Of course there is. You are the noblest person I know, Eunwoo, even if you spend the day trying to convince everyone otherwise."
Eunwoo shook his head gently, carefully brushing her hands away to look back at the floor.
"You have no idea what goes through my head when I lose it. The darkness that's in there."
"Then tell me. Tell me everything. I'm here to listen, not to judge you."
He looked up, surprised by the firmness in her voice. She was serious; her eyes reflected an unshakeable determination. She was always serious when it came to saving him from himself. And that was exactly what made the situation so dangerous for him: it made her indispensable to his survival.
"Sometimes... sometimes I feel an uncontrollable urge to destroy everything around me," he admitted in a whisper, releasing the words with difficulty, as if they weighed tons. "Someone looks at me wrong in the cafeteria, or makes a stupid comment about me, and I just explode. There’s no middle ground. I feel a switch flip in my brain and I just see red."
She listened in absolute silence, taking in every word, allowing him to unburden himself.
"And then, when it's all over and I see what I did, I hate myself for it," he continued, his knuckles trembling on his knees. "It disgusts me to see what I become. But when I'm in the middle of the fight... when my fist connects with someone and I get a hit back... my head goes completely silent for a few seconds. The noise of the past turns off. Only the pain and I exist. It's the only time I don't think."
An oppressive knot formed in her throat. The pain behind his aggressiveness was genuine. This wasn't simple malice or a desire for juvenile rebellion; it was the desperate cry of someone deeply lost in a mental maze they didn't know how to escape.
She reached out her hands and took his, wrapping his bruised and battered knuckles within hers, transferring all the warmth she could.
"You don't have to keep hurting yourself physically to silence your mind, Eunwoo. You don't have to destroy your body to find peace."
He let out a short, dry laugh, devoid of humor.
"And what am I supposed to do instead? How do I turn off the noise if it's not like this?"
"By letting someone help you carry the weight. By letting me help you."
Their gazes met once more in the dim light of the living room. Eunwoo stared at her, and in that instant, he knew he was irretrievably lost, completely disarmed before her. No one had ever spoken to him with such a level of tenderness after witnessing his worst side. Anyone else would have walked away, anyone else would have called the police or screamed at him to grow up. But she remained there, kneeling on the carpet, willing to heal every single one of his cracks.
She picked up the first-aid kit again. With expert, gentle fingers, she finished cleaning the small incision on his lip and then peeled the protective backing off an adhesive bandage, placing it with utmost care over the swollen cut on his left cheek, just as it showed on his bruised features.
"There," she said, gently pulling her hands back. "You're patched up on the outside."
●●●
Eunwoo didn't move a single inch. He remained static on the couch, devouring her with his eyes, as if the simple act of blinking could make the scene dissolve like a dawn mirage.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly, beginning to pack the bottles back into the first-aid kit.
"Stay with me tonight," he asked.
His voice didn't have the tone he usually resorted to when putting distance between himself and others; it sounded vulnerable, stripped of defenses. It sounded younger, more human, tired of bearing the weight of a fictional war against the universe.
She felt her chest tighten with emotion. She left the kit on the table and offered him a look full of affection.
"I always stay, Eunwoo. I'm not going anywhere."
The boy lowered his head, exhaling a long sigh, as if hearing the confirmation of those words had lifted an invisible weight off his shoulders.
Hours later, the storm outside seemed to lose its strength, turning into a steady, soft drizzle that wrapped around the city. Inside the apartment, the main light had been turned off. Eunwoo was lying across the couch, his body stretched out and his head resting carefully on her lap. The television remained on to a news channel with the volume muted; neither of them was paying attention to the screen.
She ran her fingers slowly and rhythmically through the boy's dark hair, untangling the strands that had now completely dried. Her touch was peaceful.
And Eunwoo, for the first time in weeks, was completely still. There was no tension in his jaw, his fists remained open and relaxed at his sides, and his breathing was deep, harmonious.
"When I'm fighting..." he murmured suddenly, breaking the silence of the room with a sleepy but clear voice.
She looked down at him, pausing the movement of her fingers for a second.
"Yes?"
"I always end up thinking about you right after the last hit," he continued, opening his eyes to lock his pupils onto her face. "When the noise dies down and I realize what I've done, the first thing that comes to my mind is your face."
Her heart gave a painful thud. She resumed the movement of her fingers, brushing a stray lock away from his forehead, right next to the bandage.
"Why, Eunwoo?"
"Because you're the only reason I decide to get up off the ground and come home. If you weren't waiting for me here, I think I'd just stay lying in some alley until the cold took me."
The rawness of his words hurt her deep in her chest. She tilted her face down, feeling the enormous responsibility that came with being the anchor for such a stormy mind.
"Then, if I really matter that much to you, stop giving me reasons to live in constant worry," she pleaded in a whisper. "Stop giving me reasons to be afraid every time I hear the phone ring in the middle of the night."
Eunwoo opened his eyes fully and gazed at her intently, as if trying to etch every detail of her features into his memory for the dark days to come.
"I'm trying," he assured her in a low voice.
"Not hard enough, Eunwoo. You feel like violence is your only way out, but you have to find another way to channel what you have inside."
The boy remained silent. He knew he couldn't argue with that. He knew his escape method was selfish and destructive, and that it dragged her into a whirlwind of anguish she didn't deserve to live through.
She sighed with a weariness that reflected the hours of keeping watch.
"I don't want to lose you over something stupid, Eunwoo. I don't want someone to make an irreversible mistake in some dark corner one of these nights and leave me here alone."
He extended his right hand—the one with the scraped knuckles—and took her hand with infinite caution, taking care not to hurt her with his wounds.
"I'm not going to disappear. I promise."
"People always think they have control over things right before they lose it completely," she replied, looking at the ceiling with melancholy.
The sentence hung in the space, suspended amidst the shadows of the living room. Eunwoo turned his face slightly on her lap and, with a movement steeped in an almost desperate devotion, pressed his bruised lips against her knuckles. It was a long, warm kiss that conveyed everything his pride prevented him from saying.
"I'm sorry," he whispered against her skin. "I'm truly sorry."
She knew, from the tone of his voice, that he wasn't just apologizing for the fight that night, nor for arriving bloody at two in the morning. He was apologizing for all the previous nights, for every scare he had caused her, for the hostile silences he used to answer her questions, and for every fragment of his own soul that he still hadn't figured out how to mend.
She felt the gathered tears threatening to overflow, but she made an effort and offered him a small, comforting smile in the dimness.
"Just... stay safe and always come home alive, okay? That's all I ask of you."
Eunwoo closed his eyes again, settling his head comfortably on her legs, letting himself be rocked by the continuous movement of her fingers through his hair.
Outside, the rain kept falling, washing the city streets. And inside, in that small space illuminated by the television screen, the boy who was always ready to tear the world apart with his fists finally allowed himself to let his guard down and rest in peace.
...
thank me this way ⚰︎ c. eunwoo
𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗨𝗘 𝗡𝗢. 𝟬𝟬𝟯 차은우 after a night out at karaoke with your friends, you're way too drunk to trust a stranger, so you call your brother–but his best friend picks up instead. and he wants compensation for keeping your little secret. ⓘ smut-ᴍᴅɴɪ: brother's best friend ⋆ nonidol ⋆ asphyxiophilia ⋆ dom!eun ⋆ blackmail ⋆ cnc ⋆ teasing ⋆ fingering ⋆ cock choking ⋆ degradation ⋆ risk play/agoraphilia ⋆ unprotected sex cha eun-woo x youngersister!reader ⋆ 4.1k
♥︎ now playing: ex habit - on your knees ♥︎ articles: read more ♥︎ editor's note: i was playing with slime the whole time writing. this is not an accurate depiction of any person named.
꒰১ ───────── ───────── ໒꒱
A chill ran over your bare shoulders as you stumbled out of the karaoke bar with your three friends
“You sure you don’t want to catch a ride with us?”
“Nah,” you waved, “I’ll just call my brother.”
“Alright, —a/ya, get home safe!” Ha-eun-ah laughed.
“Yeah, you as well!”
Seoul nightlife was at its peak now, but for you, the night was over. You had first semester classes tomorrow and you couldn’t be late lest you missed something important.
You unfolded your phone and swiped up, scrolling through your call log before tapping on Sobachka, the name you had your brother under.
The phone rang… and then rang some more.
What the hell was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he picking up?
You clicked your tongue, scoffing and pulling your phone away from your ear to shoot off a nasty little text.
Hey! What the hell?
21:00
Answer.
21:00
You gasped, caught off guard when the phone rang again, the name Sobachka appearing across the screen.
“Yo.” You spat, “Why didn’t you answer?”
Something like clothing moved around the phone’s speaker, but no other response came.
You heaved a sigh and ran a hand through your hair. “Come get me already. I’m sending my location.”
You ended the call, your intoxication having more to do with your frustration than him.
You waddled to a bench near the road and plopped down, blinking back the exhaustion that threatened to pull one over on you.
Time seemed to pass by in increments of messages.
You almost here?
21:12
Hey. Answer
21:13
Hey Ji-hwan!!!
21:14
I’m on my way.
21:21
About time
21:21
Childish.
21:25
Hey!
21:25
What did you call me?
21:25
Hey!
21:26
Answer!
21:26
A vehicle pulled up beside you and then one final message came through.
Get in.
22:27
You mimicked the message under your breath, but stood on wobbly feet and trudged over to the car anyway. The windows seemed more tinted than you remembered, but maybe you really were just out of it.
You yanked the passenger door open, ready to make this car ride hell.
“Hey!” You shoved your head through, expecting to find an ugo behind the wheel.
Instead, you found Eun-woo blinking, face near expressionless. “Didn’t you see my message?”
Your glare shifted, and instead of furrowed, your brows raised. What was he doing here? Weren’t you just texting Ji-hwan?
Yes, it was Ji-hwan’s number—there was only one sobachka in your phone and it wasn’t who sat before you.
You swallowed your confusion for now, feeling all the adrenaline rush out of your system—leaving you standing awkwardly on the side of the road, hovering over the black camry.
He lowered the bluetooth in his car right before you asked, “Ji-hwan, where is he?”
“At your house.” His eyes drifted down, taking in your outfit.
Something turned behind his head, you could see it working in real time. “Stop staring.” You huffed, trying to act like his attention didn’t affect you.
You slid into the seat and buckled in. “Let’s go.”
Eun-woo kept his steady gaze on yours, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.
Your breath caught in your throat when he suddenly reached over the passenger seat. His face was inches from yours and you knew he saw the way your body tensed against the pressure of his arm pressed against your chest. He smelled like coconut and something expensive, like he was trying to give off a certain perception of himself. He didn’t usually smell like this—was it selfish to say you preferred him this way?
His muscles flexed through his black long sleeve, sending a thrilling shiver up your spine. You held your breath and his gaze, though your bottom lip seemed to wobble, giving away your secret that wasn’t really a secret at all.
The way he was looking up at you like that, didn’t he know what it did to you?
You forced your eyes away just as he pulled your door shut.
Oh…
So that’s why he…
Might as well smear red lipstick over your nose and call it a fucking night.
He straightened in the driver seat, but didn’t shift the car into drive. Instead, he was watching you, mimicking the way your eyes held his. “You’re so bold, —a/ya.”
“Am I?” You shifted, turning toward the passenger side window. “Why? What makes you say that?”
Air burned through your nose when his cold fingers tapped your thigh. “Wearing something this exposing at this time of night?”
“So what?” Your gaze sharpened. Was he seriously about to get all noble on you?
He fixed his attention on the road ahead and moved the car into drive. “Then again, maybe you’re just stupid.”
One of your eyebrows twitched, but it seemed to go unnoticed because instead of responding, he was returning the volume back to what he’d had it at before. It was a song you didn’t recognize, dark and sensual. Something you might’ve found at a niche strip club.
“Hey.” You spat. “You keep calling me names, I’m gonna tell Ji-hwan to beat you up.”
Eun-woo snorted. “Right. As if he wouldn’t scold you first.”
“And why would he do that?” You folded your arms, frowning at the obvious idiocy of his comment.
Eun-woo pulled the car into a shopping mall parking lot, steering toward the back. “Are you seriously asking that? Look at what you’re wearing—you’re saying Ji-hwan would be okay with you going out like that? You’re parents would have a field day—”
“Hey!” You shouted. “I know it’s revealing—but leave my mom and dad out of this—of course they’d be mad, what parent wouldn’t be? Seriously.” You scoffed. “Why do you think I called Ji-hwan? Oh yeah—and why do you have his phone? Were you the one who called me back? You were weren’t you—admit it—”
“You talk too much, I’m getting a headache.” He winced, rolling his neck as if to relieve some stress.
“This bastard.” You muttered under your breath, leaning your head against the heavily tinted window, ignoring the glare he shot you.
“You need to learn to respect your elders.”
“Elders,” your laugh was dry, “Right. Don’t flatter yourself, you’re only a year older.”
“You used to be so…” he bit back whatever he was going to say next—shaking his head, sighing heavily. “I can’t believe you thought Ji-hwan would be okay with this.”
“Why should it matter what he thinks?” Your voice rose, “Everyone keeps doing this—treating me like I’m a kid. I’m not even in fucking high school anymore!”
“Yeah,” his tone was flat as he pulled into a stall, secluding you from the other cars in the lot. “That’s what you keep saying.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Is it?” He watched you from beneath those dark eyes. You swallowed, taking a mental step back to calm yourself. He was looking at you like—how could you even describe that expression? It was almost… dark amusement? God, he looked amazing—why did he always have to look like that? Always and even now in those sweats, he looked like Sin incarnate.
You averted your gaze, running a hand through your hair as if the action could provide any sort of distraction—it couldn’t.
Your breathing grew audible as you attempted to steady your quickening pulse. Your cheeks burned, but you still said, “I told you it is… So it is.”
Eun-woo was quiet for a few seconds, and you just knew he was watching you. The silence stretched to an impossible amount of awkwardness and unfortunately, the tension did nothing to quell your brain hitting overdrive.
You shifted again, hating how his mere gaze had your thighs clenching to suppress an insatiable need.
“Show me.” He said, still watching you from that far away perception.
“What?” Your mouth fell open just barley, “What do you mean—
“Show me how much you’ve grown.”
“I don’t—” your stutter was cut short by your own surprise.
Eun-woo reached over, and gripping you by the shoulders, pulled you into his lap across the middle console. You yelped, trying to push him back.
“What the hell?”
His laugh was lower—darker—now that you were hearing it from right above your ear. “You said you weren’t a kid anymore, right?” He moved his arms under your exposed thighs, sending a coldness through you. “So I said prove it.” Your face burned the color of a very specific pepper—and from more than just the alcohol.
A squeak fell out of your throat—a sound you’ had never—not once—heard come out of your mouth.
Between your thighs, your panties grew in moisture. Eun-hoo pressed nothing innocent against you, and through your mini skirt, you could feel him hardening.
“Tell you what,” his fingers were like coals across your cheek, tapping your nose like this was one of those little games you played when you were in Elementary. “I don’t tell Ji-hwan about tonight—or your parents—and you’ll do whatever I want you to.”
It was almost unnerving, the way he spoke as if he was asking nothing more than to borrow notes from class. That scent of his drifted toward your nose. Coconut again, and something darker. Your face contorted—what was this? A threat? “You’re—what’s it called—ugh.” You grabbed your head, an ache passing over.
“Do you agree?”
“No—” your response was immediate, “––absolutley not.”
“Why not?” Your eyes flashed as he tightied his hold, grinding slightly into your ass.
“Cuz it’s…stupid.” Your words were slow—a contemplated and unsure mutter.
“But if you don’t, you’ll probably be punished.”
Despite yourself, you paused.
He was right.
But was it really worth all the trouble just to avoid a scolding and maybe curfew privileges for a few weeks?
You hesitated. Eun-woo couldn’t want something drastic—he wasn’t that type of person. Besides, you’d known him forever—even if you weren’t really friends, he had always been around. He wouldn’t aks you to do anything you didn’t want to—he wouldn’t ask you to do something dangerous…
Would he?
“...what do you want?” You kept your voice low and steady, fighting through the intoxication—though you were sure no amount of water could have flushed it out of your system as fast as this situation had.
“I told you.” You could hear the bullshit arrogant smile in his tone. He was so hot—he always had been—but God was he annoying. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
You scoffed. “You think you’re in some K-Drama or something? Do whatever you want, that’s what you said. But for how long?”
His reply flew off the tip of his tongue like it’d been waiting there for quite some time. "Indefinitely."
Your eyes went wide. “Hey––that’s insane!”
“Is it?”
The question took on a new meaning now as one hand slipped up your skirt. Eun-woo ran the tips of his fingers across your entrance, probably taking immense pleasure in the way your breath hitched.
Was he serious? That’s what he wanted? Your body shuddered as a shiver ran down your spine; your thighs clenched both chasing pleasure and hoping to snuff the need out. Your jaw locked and you ground out, “Eun-woo.”
“Hey, —a/ya.” Your nostrils flared when you exhaled through your nose. He laughed above your ear, almost mockingly. “Scream for me, will you?”
You pushed yourself up, palms pressing against his hard abdomen. He couldn’t be serious. There was no freaking way.
“Eun-woo—” one finger pushed into you—your response was immediate.
Your walls clenched around his digit—long, slender—and dammit you could feel all of it. Your breathing grew shallow when he added another. “What’s going on? Hey, —a/ya, tell me, what’s wrong?”
It was the fact that he sounded genuinely confused—like he didn’t know he was the exact reason you were holding your breath.
“Hey, —a/ya. I told you to scream, didn't I?”
You swallowed at his tone. It was dark and cruel—like nothing he’d ever sounded like before.
Where was the Eun-woo from childhood sleepovers? From middle school study groups and high school trips?
Your gasp could be heard over the music, louder than your shitty karaoke performance earlier tonight. Eun-woo dragged his teeth over the tip of your ear; one hand wrapped around your waist, the other still eliciting filthy sounds.
Your back pressed into his chest, and your hips moved against his palm. He trailed his tongue down your cold shoulders and his hand disappeared under your top to grab your chest through your strapless bra. Your head fell back and your moans carried across the bass as his fingers continued their deliberate movements.
He hummed, but it sounded more like a chuckle.
Then, he stopped.
One second he was pleasuring you against your will, the next: watching you trying to pretend you didn’t hate the emptiness he’d left.
Was this real?
It still seemed like a dream. Maybe you were shitfaced, still sitting on that bench in front of the street. Maybe you were already in your bed at home, snuggling with a pillow between your legs, and Eun-woo was just an illusion. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d had a dream like this…
But it felt so real.
He let his nails graze the edge of your throat, right above your pulse. “Remember what I said?”
Your thighs clenched, chasing the orgasm you’d just been denied.
“Hey, —a/ya. Listen—” you choked on your own spit as he ripped your thighs apart. “I told you, didn't I? This only works if you listen to me. Think of this as how you thank me for keeping this dirty little secret. I’m being pretty generous here.”
“Shut up.” You huffed, hating out your body screamed at you to just listen. Sure, you wouldn’t mind this in your head! Because in your head nothing was this fucking awkward! In your head, you could never feel this humiliated. You looked up, glaring up at him through the window even though his reflection was hardly visible. “You had no right—”
“Denying it, yeah?” He smiled. “That’s just like you… But —a/ya, that was the deal.”
“I never agreed—
“Your body did.” One arm adjusted so that he could tangle his hand in your hair. Soft and loose as it normally was, it was tangled now—knotted, and as he yanked your head back, you hated to think of how much sweat had accumulated across it.
“—a/ya,” his breath sent another shiver down your back. “I need an answer.”
“If I say no?” Your voice trembled in the same manner your thighs were.
His smile against your neck was predatory. “Then I’ll have to accept that. But, I’d also have to explain to your parents the state I found you in tonight. I mean, that’d only be right. I couldn’t lie to them, could I? Then they wouldn’t trust me.”
You growled under your breath, but your heart wasn’t in it. Sure it was an asshole thing to do—and if it were anyone else you likely would have just said no… Your eyes nearly caught his through the tinted dashboard. It wasn’t anyone else, though. It was Eun-woo. “You talk too much.”
He raised an eyebrow, still waiting. You couldn’t care less how soft he looked on the surface—that act he put on? How had you not noticed it before? Your face pinched. It’s always the nice ones.
You let your eyes shut for just a moment, breathing in, just to sigh out and say, “Alright.”
“Hmm?”
“Damnit Eun-woo—
“Yes, —a/ya?.” His nails dug into your neck, “Go on, I’m listening.”
Your eyes sharpened and your face began heating up. Eun-woo hovered his head over yours. His tone had completely altered. Was he doing that on purpose? But then why did he look so cocky? Your bottom lip wobbled and through the tinted dashboard, you could somehow tell the fire in his gaze was growing.
“Whatever I say: you do.” He repeated.
You would have turned your head away and scoffed, but his hands had restricted your ability to do that.
You could only narrow your eyes, hoping that would get your thoughts across. His hand curled, tightening. Was he trying to fucking kill you? Jesus!
“You don’t need to talk, there's a better way to use that filthy mouth.”
He pulled the seat back, and despite everything, you had to muffle a laugh when the reclining took longer than expected. With everything that had happened so, it seemed so mundane—someting he most definitely had not taken into consideration. Eun-woo remained dead serious, which only fueled your snorts. It was so goofy, how could you not laugh?
But Eun-woo didn’t find it funny at all.
“Are you laughing?” You shook your head, but when he forced your head to the side, a little smile appeared. He smiled back, but it wasn’t normal. “You’re cute, but you’d be much more attractive on your knees.”
He shoved you to the floor without giving you time to process his words. He leaned back, trapping you around his legs in the cramped space. “Go on.”
A crease formed in your brow, still not yet taking him at face value. Apparently, he could see that in the way you blinked. And that was a problem.
He watched you expectantly, the pressure of his stare almost like a magnet, pulling your hands toward his bulge.
Your fingers tugged at the strings of his sweats. He was closer now, right in front of you, and despite how the darkness clouded his face, it was clear to you Eun-woo had never been joking.
On your knees—the pedals of the toyota threatening to part your ass every time you scooted back too far—you pulled the top of his sweats down, allowing his black boxers to appear below.
You could smell him, precum and all—and you agonized over how it had your pussy riding the cock of a ghost.
He gripped the back of your head, eyes sparkling. He was like the devil, gorgeous, tempting, and sure to damn you in the end.
The worst part, though? You didn’t care about that last one.
His cock sprung up and you palmed him. Could he tell you it was your first time? Was this his? Did it matter in the grander scheme of things? Not really.
Eun-woo hissed when he hit the back of your throat for the first time, the first real sound of pleasure he’d allowed to be heard. He let you pump him, admiring the way your pretty nails moved up and down just to make him feel the way he did—and when your lips wrapped around him? Dammit if it wasn’t taking an immense amount of self control to keep his hands to himself.
He lifted his hips into your mouth, and even in the absence of light, you could tell he was turning red. He lost the internal battle with himself and wrapped his hands around your head, shoving himself down your throat. Eun-woo seemed to forget you had to breathe—or maybe, he just didn’t care.
He shuddered around you, disregarding the tears forming at your eyes. His groans mixed with the your gagging. The torture felt neverending—maybe you would die here. Would you really be okay with that? Your soiled lace said yes.
You coughed when he stopped moving out of nowhere, mouth still full of cock. He must have taken pleasure, watching you like that as his hot seed dripped down your throat.
He was still hard when he pulled out, eyes tracking the cum around your lips. You were dripping on the floor of his car, clenching around nothing.
“What else should I make you do?” His brow creased and he looked thoughtful. The change in his demeanor should have left you speechless, but that wasn’t why you kept quiet.
Your throat was sore, but more than that—he had told you to shut up. Not technically, but you knew that’s what he’d meant and you were too exhausted to argue.
“Come here.” He pulled you up, bending forward so as to not hit your head on the roof. “Take them off.”
He didn’t explain, but he didn’t have to. You knew that look—had only ever seen it in pornos, in dramas… Never on him though.
You inched your lace down, watching Eun-woo watch the way it slipped over your thighs. “Now sit.”
Your eyes went wide. He couldn’t be serious.
But he was.
He’d been serious when he first proposed the idea—when he’d first decided to blackmail you.
Eun-woo spun you around and parted your thighs, measuring up his tip. The moment he pulled you back would be stuck in your head until you lost consciousness. Your scream must’ve been palpable throughout the entire parking lot because he wasted no time in slapping a hand over your mouth.
“Could you shut the fuck up?” He sounded annoyed, but something was different. Annoyed, yes, but also… Strangled? Maybe he didn’t have as much control as he thought he did. Maybe you could somehow crumble them. Wouldn’t that be fun?
Your walls built a castle around him as he reclined the seat forward again.
“Keep your head down.” Any sound that spilled from your lips got caught and muffled by the palm of his hand. His tone carried an odd mix of uncertainty and confidence. He'd always spoken that way, but this time, it felt entirely different.
“Hey—” you braced yourself against the car as he moved the gearshift into reverse. The little jerk forced you to swallow him further. “Hey, this is dangerous—Eun—”
“I don’t remember asking you to speak.” His fingers bruised your cheek as he gripped your jaw, voice curling into heated authority above your ear. “So just ride me like a good girl while I drive you home like the gentleman I am.”
Eun-woo pulled the car around the parking lot and onto the streets again, watching the road. When the first stoplight approached, he shifted the car into park, wrapped his hands around your waist. You wriggled around him and, whimpering when his cock moved in and out of you. It was like a punishment with how slow he fucked you. Anger mixed with lust pooled in your lower stomach every time your pussy swallowed him like a starving pet.
It was like this whole thing was have a humiliation ritual and you were the main attraction. You must have been a masochist because you were just letting it go on. You buried him further, when he had to drive, craving that moment where you could let everything go—even if it were just a few seconds.
Bent over the middle console, body all contorted, you coudlnt’ see out the window, but you new this turn. Yu had made it a thousand times.
“Hey—” The bastard. He really drove you home. “Eun-woo–what the hell?”
He ignored your cursing, knowing by now, your pussy must have been stretched to a point where you’d gone almost numb to the feeling of him inside. Was that possible? Eun-woo smiled to himself. Maybe. Maybe not.
Well, he’d find out eventually.
“Hey—are you crazy?" You tried to turn—wanting him to see just how furious you were.
He didn’t give you what you wanted. He carfucked you and then took you home. What kind of sick game was that?
Eun-woo turned his head as he shifted the car into park. “You’re annoying.”
“Annoyng?” You scoffed— “Fine.—” You started rolling off him, ready to never speak to him again. What an asshole. Seriously. God you were embarrassed!
“Hey,” he forced you back down, impaling you with his cock. “What are you doing, I’m not done.” He thrust into you, earning a moan.
So she can still feel me.
He smiled.
Good.
“—a/ya,” he cut your words off with a tug of your hair. “You shouldn’t be so loud. You wouldn’t want your parents to see what a ruckus you’re causing.”
“So what?” You choked.
“I’m glad you asked,” your hair pooled over your shoulders when he let go.
His hands reached under your skirt, pulling your thighs apart, and then, he lifted you up, the feeling curling around you like a tortuous memory—but instead of that slow, aching pace from before, Eun-woo gagged your lower lips just as he had the ones on your face. The reverberation of flesh meeting flesh filled the silence. Your juices mixed with his, dripping all around his seat.
Wet, sticky sounds mingled with your moans. He was thick and long, and he knew just what kind of things to say. It was like he’d fucked you a thousand times already, like he knew the ends and outs of how your brain operated.
You could hear his grunts—he seemed so unbothered before, but now it was like he was barely holding everything together. And when he cursed, the words breathless, you finally understood. Eun-woo had pictured you like this before. How many times before? You couldn't say. But the fact was there.
It was you he wanted.
And it was you he would have.
꒰১ ───────── ───────── ໒꒱
아스트로 사랑해💜
𝜗𝜚 eunwoo ( astro ) lockscreens !
୨୧ eunwoo ( do astro e meu ) lockscreens.
Cha eunwoo (astro) !★
. ۫ ꣑ৎ . 🍁 ⊹ ࣪ ˖