synopsis: seongje turning into a whining pathetic masochist after his girl slaps him in an argument. lol.
cw: MDNI, aged up obviously, slapping, spitting, choking, biting, handjob, thigh riding, overstimulation, masochism, sadism, seongje crying lowkey, pet names
you wanted to see him like this. it was rare but the rarity of it was what got you going; seeing seongje below you, whimpering like a pathetic dog. you were in complete control and there was nothing more you enjoyed than abusing it.
after an aggravating argument with the poor guy under you, you lost your composure, ready to walk out of the door until seongje grabbed your wrists, dragging you back into his room. his domineering presence, threatening and intimidating, pushing you against a wall. in times like these, you felt helpless. you hated how he towered over you with that malicious glint in his eyes, teasing at you, pointing a finger at you with that shit-eating cheshire grin on his face. the smell of cigarettes clawed at your throat, punching you in the lungs. and that’s all seongje needed to have you cornered and submit to him.
but today, today was not the day. today he failed to do that. today you were the one to push at his chest until you cornered him into a wall and when he tried to stop your one hand, you used the other to slap his face. you didn’t mean to be violent nor did you mean to hurt him. you were just overwhelmed with the heat in the room and your anger and just him.
it was just one painful slap.
that one painful slap turned something in your boyfriend. something dark. something dangerous. as if he were possessed by a demon, his head slapped to the side, he laughed, adams’s apple bobbing and shoulders shaking. when he turned to you, your stomach churned in fear and anticipation— a sadistic coil. you were enjoying it. so was he.
“did you just slap me, sweetheart?” he raised a brow, that same snarky glint in his eyes.
“i did.” you breathed, staggering a little back from him seeing the maniacal, livid look in his eyes that could devastate a whole audience.
“my baby girl just hit me.” he stated to himself.
his eyes dead on you. the shift in atmosphere weighed down on you. it was hot and fuzzy and you couldn’t ignore the desire and need in your stomach from the way he gazed at you. seongje tilted his head back with a airy chuckle before coming to an abrupt stop. another look at your eyes and then at your lips.
“do it again.” he ordered, “slap me.”
“w-what?” you wavered, unsure of what just came out of your boyfriend’s mouth.
with another step back you watched him pull himself off against the wall to lunge at you. no second to breathe or grasp onto what just happened, seongje was onto you. he bit your bottom lip with a low groan. he glided his tongue over the bite before smacking another kiss to your parted mouth. it was more a kiss to your teeth than it was to your lips that were slightly trembling from the shock. he pulled away, breathless and red, sweat forming on his temple. a swift slide of his fingers and his glasses were off and thrown onto the night stand.
“don’t make me ask again, y/n.” he purred, his breath tickling your cheeks, “slap me.”
it took you a minute to register it all and you came to the realization that he’d probably do anything to get slapped in the face by his pretty girlfriend right now and you’d take advantage of that. take advantage of him. work him dry.
“what if i said no?” you asked, biting your bottom lip gentler than seongje had.
seongje tilted his head to the side in amusement, a low chuckle barreling in his chest, the fluorescent light revealed the red mark from your palm on his chisled face. his jaw was taut. that hunger in his eyes only raging by the second. every breath he took came out shallow as if he were holding himself back. you jutted your jaw out in false confidence, wanting to tease him more; get on his nerves until he broke.
“geum seongje. if you want me to slap you get on the bed.” you demanded with a light nudge on his shoulder.
you stood face-to-face with him with a smirk threatening to creep up your face. you enjoyed the slight, barely noticeable surprise in his face. it turned you on.
“don’t make me ask again, seongje.” you mocked him, “get on the bed.”
“okay. whatever you say, darling.” he complied with a nod and a smirk.
once he was on the edge of the bed, you swiftly straddled his laps, pushing him in the shoulders until he fell flat on his back with a low cuss. he raised a brow in question, amused, watching you crawl over him. your hair falling over his face as you bit his earlobe, a low teasing moan escaping your lips. by now, you could feel his hard-on pressing the side of your inner thigh through his sweatpants. you used your knees to push it down on his cock, earning a low groan.
“what do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, snaking his hands over your waist to stop you but you pinch him away earning another pained groan.
“you wanted this. so, take it.” you spoke through gritted teeth, grabbing his hard on with your hand “you’re so hard. just by this? you’re pathetic.”
“fuck— are you—“ you undo the strings in his sweat pants, pulling it down with his boxers, springing his twitching cock free.
pre-cum dropped from his tip, causing you to giggle. you sat between his thigh, lightly rubbing your clothed clit against it.
thwack.
you spit on your hands, making a lubricant to use to rub on his hot cock. your strokes are slow and calculated, your fists balling on his cock as you pumped agonizingly low. seongje’s brows furrowed in frustration wanting more. he bucked his hips into your fist only to get slapped in the face. hard.
“sh-shit, baby, could you go faster?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“tsk. that’s not how you ask, now is it?” you tutted, shaking your head in teasing disappointment “say please like a good boy. hmm?”
you stopped moving your hands. waiting for his plead. continuing to rub yourself against his thigh.
“p-please.” his voice came out ragged and broken. you slapped him in the face again, his face turning red. his hair a tousled mess.
“say it louder, boy.” you urged. relishing in the desperate look in his eyes. he looked completely gone.
“fuck— please— go faster!” he begged swallowing hard.
“atta boy.” you took that chance to grab his throat with one hand to squeeze it hard with no mercy until he started to audibly choke and gasp. with the other hand you started stroking harsher and faster, making him twitch and whimper with a choke.
you squeezed his cock harder and his throat. thumbing his tip to make him more sensitive, his eyelashes lined with tears that you had never seen before and your thighs clenched agaist his thighs, rubbing onto your clit in an overwhelmingly hot sensation that made you moan a little too loud. seongje struggled in your hold, gasping for air when you let go of his throat. relentlessly, you pumped his cock upwards and down until hot, white spurts of cum splattered out onto your wrists and hand. but you didn’t stop. you forced your weight onto him, riding his thighs until you reached your own climax and closed your eyes to feel the sensation take over you. your panties were soaking wet, clit sensitive causing you to twitch and writhe over your sensitive boyfriend who looked like he was about to cry.
tears and drool fell down his beautiful face. his brown hair a mess, and his taunting smirk replaced with parted lips that released whimpers and low, guttural groans. he tried to grab onto your wrist one more time only to get slapped hard in the face by you. your hands pumped mercilessly on his cock, his body twitching and shaking from overstimulation.
a cry escaped his lips “gosh, y/n. slap me again. i love it when you slap me. please.”
“yeah? you like it? open your mouth.” you said, bringing your hand up to his throat. he complied, opening his mouth. a glob of your spit trickled sloppily down his mouth, some of it splattering onto his bottom lips “swallow.”
he swallowed hard, an embarrassing high-pitched moan leaving his mouth as he pleaded for you to slap him and you did. he pleaded again. slap. slap. slap.
“o-oh my god—ngh—“ he gasped with every sensation that struck every vein in his body, “feel s’good. fuck— just like that, baby, just like that.”
“f-fuck—i’m gonna— i’m gonna cum— i’m gonna cum!” he whined, holding onto your wrist for support. his eyes rolled back, mouth parting open into a silent moan. his deep voice now a pitch higher.
he came undone for a second time. bucking his hips up into your fist in desperate attempt to ground himself.
a thick rod of his white cum spurt out of his veiny cock. seongje drawled out a long shuddering sigh, whimpering thanks yous. his face contorting from the soreness of getting slapped over and over. poor boy looked used up. flushed red and droopy eyed. seongje laid breathless and used up below. a look of surrender making its way into his eyes as if to say “you won”. the asshole smirk of his wiped right off.
tags: cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, p in v sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, noona kink, breeding kink (ish), praise kink (ish), pussydrunk seongje, first person pov
a/n: reader is only a year older than him. imo seongje is super into 'the chase' and would think that someone older would be fun to romance. of course it is like fun to flirt and stuff but when it comes down to it, he's abit of a needy little puppy... lemme know what you think if you enjoyed it <3 likes, reblogs n comments r alw appreciated n u can alw find me on twt or dms
The PC cafe reeks of body musk, smoke and shin ramyeon, as usual. I'm already making the fourth ramyeon of my shift, carrying the tray steadily to the cubicle that ordered it. It seems that I had missed some action before arriving as PC cafe is dead silent and the customer sitting beside is slumped over the table.
"Your ramyeon is here," I interrupt, feeling the slightly horrified stares of those involved turn to myself.
My eyes and lips press into a half-hearted smile before resting the bowl on the table, doing my best to not meet their eyes so that I can get back to watching my show at the reception counter. As I turn to leave, someone grabs onto my wrist, squeezing it like a boa constrictor.
"Hey, aren't you gonna do anything about this? That little fucker slammed my friend's head into the table?"
I look back at the visibly middle-aged man holding onto my wrist and at the shaggy haired high schooler, and internally roll my eyes. It turns out that my eye roll was also external as the man yanks at my wrist and raises his voice, "Are you fucking with me or what?"
I sigh, "Sir, please let go of me, or I'll have to call the manager."
The customer snarls and stands up, chest flaring like a lizard making itself bigger to intimidate me. "Yeah, get your fucking manager here before I—"
I jerk my arm back, twisting my body for leverage, "Sir, the next time you do this, I'm going to have to ban you for making a scene."
I take a step forward to leave, but a flash of red suddenly moves in front of me. The kid moves fast for sure, but I'm faster, bumping shoulders as I make my way back to my seat and ignoring the sounds of protest behind me.
┈
Remind me to get new underwear, I text to my friend while squirming in my seat. After a long overdue spring cleaning session, I had thrown out all my ratty underwear with holes, but that meant that I had run out of clean underwear in the middle of the week.I basically tore apart my closet, clothes flying all over my floor in an attempt to find some semblance of comfortable panties, but alas, all I had left were my stringy thongs.
I could get used to the sensation of something between my ass cheeks, but the constant requests from the PC cafe customers to pick something up from the floor is starting to get on my nerves. It's honestly tiring to tell off the high schoolers, but the older men? Their sense of entitlement over my body bled from their leering eyes, leaning back and raking over my ass when I came over with their order of instant ramyeon or air-fried chicken. Honestly, thinking about it sends a shiver down my spine.
This has to be the third time this particular table called me over, the first time to complain about their taste of their ramyeon, the second to order a soda, which had to be ordered over the POS anyway. I ignored their snickering the second time round as the guy feigned ignorance and requested for help finding the drinks menu on the ordering system, which was utter bullshit since they didn't even send a drink order in afterwards.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I manage my best customer service voice when I approach their seat, "How can I help you?"
He grumbles, "I almost lost my ranked just now because your screen won't respond. You gotta fix it, what if I lose the next one?"
My left eye twitches, "Let me take a look at your computer."
A few cursory clicks and checks show that there is nothing wrong with the computer at all. I let out a sigh, turning around to tell the customer off, "There's nothing wrong with your computer at all. Don't call me over for stupid—"
A snap reverberates through the walls and my body, a stinging sensation blossoming at my hip. Did that motherfucker just snap my thong strap? The snickering and whooping that follow sound like nails on a chalkboard, and the bastard even decides to taunt me, "Princess, what's wron—"
My hand lands square on his face, the impact of the slap stinging my palm. "Fucking bastard," I mutter under my breath, turning on my heels to walk away.
"Do you want to fight? Do you even know who we are?" His friend snarls while blocking my path, pretentiously cracking his knuckles. He shoves me back so hard, I almost stumble and fall, but not before seeing a hand flying towards me.
Shit. My leg takes a step back, dodging the hit. Silently thanking myself for the underwear debacle for making me forget my earrings, I curl my fingers and press the pads onto my palm before lunging at the man. The heel of my palm collides right on his jaw, forcing spittle onto the floor.
He holds his jaw and storms after me, pained and fuming. He lets out a low growl before his hands shoot out in an attempt to grab me. As I jump back to dodge him, the noisy rustle of a polyester jacket acts a foreshock for the punch that lands on his face.
His head lolls back from the impact, hanging from his neck. A fist grips onto his shirt neckline, holding his body away as another slams back onto his head. The assailant takes a look at the shocked faces of that moron's friend group before a playful smile carves itself on his face and he slams another blow onto his victim's face.
"Hey! That's enough. One more and I'll have to ban you too."
His fist stops mid-air, his crazed eyes boring into mine now, daring me to say something or back down.
"I literally see you here every other week, do you really want to get banned?"
It seems that the negotiation in his head goes in my favour as he releases his grip on his victim, letting the man collapse onto the floor.
"How are you going to ban your saviour, huh?"
I can't help rolling my eyes, "I didn't need your help."
He scoffs, "You don't ban these shitheads here anyway."
My head turns sharply to stare at him proper, taking in the planes of his face. Isn't this the kid that allegedly slammed someone's face in a few years ago? Fuck, I really should have banned him too back then.
He smirks again as recognition flashes through my widening eyes, "I'm hurt. I've always remembered you, but I'm just a customer to you, huh?"
My face twitches in disgust at his faux pitiful look, his pout hanging dramatically off his face, "There's literally hundreds of you in here."
"Aww, you can remember me now. I'm Geum Seongje."
┈
A annoyingly familliar whiff of cologne sets off my instincts and my body internally cringes at the anticipated bullshit to come.
"Noona!"
My eyes preemptively roll themselves under my eyelids before they flutter open.
Seongje has his signature gummy smile plastered on his face as he leans over the reception desk, "You look pretty today."
"I'm pretty everyday."
He chuckles, " Yeah, but you're extra sexy today. Did you do something with your hair? Or is it a new lip gloss?"
I look up from my notebook, resisting the urge to answer him with anything but a cold blank look. I did dress up a little today considering I had plans with my friends after this shift, but he didn't need to know that.
"Don't look at me like that, I'm gonna get hard."
"Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes as he bursts into laughter, body rocking with each laugh. "Just go to your cubicle, Seongje."
He leans over the counter, chest heaving slower from his laughter dying down. "Noona, I'm serious," he says. "I could treat you better than those university boys, hm? Noona, just give me a chance. They can't go down on you like I can, I can make you squir—"
"Oh my god, shut up!" I whisper-shout after clapping my hand over his mouth, my face flush with embarassment. His plush lips are smirking in the palm of my hand, a glint of mischief sparkles in his eyes before he starts licking at my palm.
"What the fuck! Are you a dog?" I exclaim as my hand jerks back, wiping his saliva away on my shorts. His red lips glisten under the LED lights of the PC cafe as he licks them slowly, as if he's savouring the taste of my skin.
"I'll bark, noona, anything you want. I can do alot more than licking if you let me." Seongje laughs before leaving me to burn in the wake of his words.
The rest of my shift goes as normally as it can, with the occassional pickup line from Seongje when I'm serving his food and the heat on my cheeks cooling off in the air conditioning, his shameless flirting to be forgotten with the passing hours. Catching up with my high school friends was nice, swinging by old haunts like the stationery store we used to frequent after school and exploring new ones like the bar that opened right as our university semester started. The cool night air runs its fingers through my long hair as I bid my friends goodbye and set off towards the bus stop.
"Noona, are you waiting for someone?"
Seongje?
I gingerly take off my earphones and the familliar rustle of his polyester windbreaker greets me as he sits next to me.
"Noona, your cheeks are red, did you drink tonight?" He leans in, finger inching close to my face.
I turn my face away, unamused. "So what if I did?"
"It's not safe to be out alone. Let me send you home at least."
A scoff escapes my throat, "So you can stalk me? Hell no."
"Is that really what you think of me? Noona, if you have a boyfriend, then I can show you how much better I am."
"What's wrong with you?" I squint at him, "Go flirt with someone your age."
Seongje scrunches his face up cutely, teasing smile growing on his face, "Don't wanna."
I am at a loss for words. The fake suave and nonchalant Geum Seongje acting cute? All I can do is to fake a gag. Seongje holds back a laugh before eventually giving in to the chuckling, swinging his leg over the bench to face me straight on.
"I'm not even that much younger, noona. I can show you, I'm grown in other ways too."
He lets out a breathy exhale, staring into the space behind me. Strangely, there is no acrid smell of smoke lingering around him.
"Seongje, you stopped smoking?"
"Mhm, you don't seem to like it." His voice drops to a whisper, leaning close to my ear, "Plus I want to keep my mouth clean for your pussy."
I pull away from him almost instantaneously, an incredulous look masking the weirdly satisfying twinge in my heart, "You're impossible, oh my god. Is that all you think about?"
He nods enthusiastically, his signature gummy smile a stark contrast to his hungry eyes.
"You… you really like me, huh?" I say quietly.
"Noona, you know better than me how I feel about you."
A beat passes, forcing me to sit with all of my thoughts that come flooding in. The way I've grown used to his habits, anticipating and even looking forward to seeing him at the PC cafe. Not to mention, the constant flirting that kept me up during excruciatingly lonely nights. His promises rang in my ears everytime my long nails scratched at my labia, ruining the high I built up for myself. God, I must be pent up, to even consider taking him up on his offer. How desperately do I want to get off?
Seongje's still staring at me with the same intense look.
A sigh escapes my lips. "Is anyone at home tonight?"
His imaginary tail is practically wagging in the corner of my eye as he leads me to his motorcycle and when he speeds up on the highways, forcing my arms to tighten around his waist.
"Seongje-ya, are you gonna be a good boy for me?"
He lets out a guttaral moan, nodding desperately in the crook of my neck. "Please, noona, I'll be good. I'll do anything you want, I'll make you feel so good, noona. Please, please— let me—"
His tongue laps at my skin desperately, chasing a high only my sweat can give him, "God, noona, you don't know what you fucking do to me—" He takes breaks from licking at me to sniff at me, inhaling deeply and sighing like I'm the most fragrant thing he has gotten his hands on.
Having him up close and bare is enlightening. Who could have known about those broad shoulders he was hiding under his windbreakers? His chest is taut under my touch, every muscle defined with its own ridges and curves. His breath hitches with each trace of my finger, his body twitching under me.
His fingers ghost across my clothed torso, never staying in one place for too long as if my body is red hot. They shakily flit around my ribcage, to my waist and back around to my shoulders. I steady his hands, holding on to his wrists, "Touch me properly."
Another groan escapes his lips as his hands snake under my top, pulling it off of me. He runs his fingers across the lace details of my bra, mapping the design slowly into his fingertips. "Knew there was something extra sexy about you today," he mutters into my breasts, reaching behind my back to unclasp my bra.
His soft hair tangles between my fingers, the layers give me much to hold on to as I stroke his hair from the top of his head to his neck, exploring how each touch makes him quiver and pant. He thumbs excitedly at my breasts, circling around my nipple and sparking desire into my spine.
The grip on his head tightens as he presses kisses on my flesh, sucking lightly till he envelopes my nipple with his lips. The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his encircling tongue lapping at me sends shivers down my spine. Hushed whimpers escape my lips as I bite back my moans, afraid of being too loud so close to the front door, but he nips at me, running my bud between his teeth. It stings, god, it stings so bad it tightens the coil in my core, wetness pooling between my legs.
"Noona," he says between breaths and sucks, "If I suck hard enough, do you think milk will come out of here?"
"What— what the fuck are you saying?"
"Bet you taste super sweet, hm? Can I— let me taste you"
His hands descend on my torso, gripping and caressing till he reaches the waistband of my shorts. His nimble fingers undo the buttons, letting my shorts fall onto the floor.
The view elicits another guttaral groan from him, fingers busy toying with the red strap of my thong. "Did you plan on going home with someone else? Hmm? Or were you thinking about me, noona?", he says as he presses his lips to my pelvic bone.
"Shut up."
"It's okay, I think about you enough for the both of us. You know—, " he groans, taking a break from nipping at me. "I was so lonely when you left for university." He descends down my body till he's kneeling in front of me, nose deep in the soaked cloth of my thong.
The warmth of his exhales on my clothed pussy does little to stop me from twitching on his face, his grip on my hips tightening as he noses into me. The tip of his nose drags slowly up till it rubs against my clit, and a satisfied sigh escapes my lips.
"Is your clit here?" He rubs his nose into the same spot, guiding my hips into rolling onto him.
"Seongje-ya, take my panties off for me. Let me feel you, 'kay?"
His hands scramble to tug my thong off, almost falling face first onto the wall behind me as he presents his face for me again. "Yes, yes, I can— I can do that for noona." He pleads in hushed whispers, enthusiastically pawing at my hips, "Use me, please."
My breath hitches again as the wet tip of his nose nudges against my clit and his lips curl into a smile against my skin. The pecks he gives my pussy are shy and wet, not once daring to even let his tongue have a taste.
"Mmh, Seongje." My stifled murmurs seem to only excite him more, pressing his face closer into me and letting his hands wander aimlessly on whatever part of my body he can. Finally, he dares to stick his tongue out, letting me grind onto the flat wetness. His breath is still warm, breathing so heavily I think for a moment that he might pass out, but then he lets out a strangled moan, signalling that he's alive and well.
"Seongje-ya."
I grip onto his hair, gently angling his face to look up at me. "Didn't you say you could make me squirt? Hm? Why am I doing all the work, Seongje-ya?" He lets out a long drawn out sigh when my hands tighten around his shaggy locks, tongue stiffening to a point when I grind my clit down on to him. "How are you gonna be better than the boys at university if all you're gonna do is kneel there like a dumb puppy?"
A whine leaks out of him and he mouths at my pussy as if he's kissing someone, "Want you to feel good— I'll do anything— that makes you feel good, noona."
The first suck on my clitoris is humbling. The little shriek I let out knocks whatever arrogance I had out of me the moment he hollowed his cheeks around my bud, squirming against his mouth and the wall. The sounds he makes as he slurps at me is vulgar, a conversation punctuated by squelches and whimpers. I crumple into myself, legs squeezing onto the side of his head and my grip on his hair getting loose as I scramble to hold myself up.
My legs buckle with a particularly lewd drag of his tongue, "I'm— i'm gonna— fall, oh my god, oh my—"
Seongje's hand reaches up to support my hips, pushing me up on the wall. He lightly squeezes my ass before pulling away from me, the bottom of his face still shiny from eating me out, "Move to the bed?"
"Ugh, yes please."
Whatever brief respite I had with moving to the bed didn't last because Seongje can't keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself. He touches the curve of my hips softly, steering me towards the bed while drawing circles, "Noona, your pussy is kinda small. What if you squeeze my tongue off then I'm only gonna have half a tongue?"
My back twitches from his chaste kisses, "Sounds like a 'you' problem."
"You're so mean," he whines.
"If it's too small for you then…" My words trail off as I settle onto the firm mattress, propping my torso up with my arms, "I can just leave."
A sick satisfaction blooms in my heart, tugging the corners of my lips up into a faux innocent smile. The way he almost trips on himself trying to get up from the bed and nearly forgetting the fact that he was laying on me and would nose dive straight into my legs before finally catching himself was scratching an itch I never knew could be fulfilled like this. He babbles, "Noona, noona, noona", burying his face in my thighs pathetically.
Now that he's closer I can see that wolfish grin of his peeking out as he sucks at my thighs between his garbled string of pleads, his pelvis rocking slowly into the mattress. "You like this, Seongje? Hm? Running after me like a dog?"
Suddenly, he wraps his arms around my legs and my heart stops beating till I register that my face is pressed against the mattress. His arm definition is much more pronounced now as I steady my breathing, the silence pumping through the slopes of his biceps as if flipping me over was nothing. I bite back a sigh when he laughs softly, "Yeah, I like this so much. What about it?" His plush lips greet my folds again, tonguing the entrance gingerly, "Noona, will you let me— let me chase after you?"
The stutter and the reddened tips of his ears is supposed to make this romantic, but he has the most playful snarl resting on his lips as he alternates between sucking at my clit and easing his tongue into my pussy. It is as if we are opposite poles of 2 magnets, snapping together with a resounding click and the same warmth blooms again in my heart. "Seongje-ya, you should focus—"
With a forceful push of my hips, my pussy is flush to his mouth and his tongue presses into me. The warm intrusion elicits a moan from me, but he gives me no time to adjust before pistoning his tongue in and out, making sure to stiffen his tongue ever so slightly before it grazes my entrance. "Fucking mutt," I mutter under my breath, hips jerking down to match his pace.
It seems to excite him, seeing that he immediately moves onto sucking at my clit again, licking at it in broad strokes. The bedsheets twist in my hands as I hold on to them, my quivering legs don't do much to prop me up and all my weight lands square on his face. He lets out a strangled groan, pressing me into him more as he sloppily makes out with my clit, teasing the bud with light grazes of his teeth.
"Fuck, keep going."
His chin must be soaked from all the slick leaking out of me and his ears must hurt from my thighs squeezing the sides of his head. He builds up the warmth between my legs with his flicking tongue, maintaining the bullying pressure on my clit. The orgasm rocks through my body with a whimper and a buckle at the knees, body almost caving in as the wetness gushes out onto Seongje's face.
He slurps at me messily, chasing the mess with his lips, not caring that he's drooling out the corner of his mouth. He's insistent on swirling his tongue on my pussy, flat and long in the most vulgar way possible, rubbing against my clit and hole enough for short-lived tingles and a growing itch to chase the stimulation. I squirm against his hands, trying to move away from him, but he holds me there, uncaring that the throbbing sensation on my clit cycles between pain and pleasure.
I choke back a sob as my hole clenches around nothing, "Mmf, Seongje, please…"
My arms give out as release wrecks through my body again, chest heaving against the mattress. Seongje has thankfully moved onto pecking at my pussy lightly, "Noona, how many times can you cum? Should we find out today? Let's go again—"
"Are you fucking crazy?" I say between ragged breaths. "You— Don't you want to— want to use the condoms we bought?"
He whines, tongue flitting out to rub against my clit,"No, no, let me… let me eat you out again… Blue balls don't exist, noona. Let's go again, please, please…"
"Ugh, you fucking mutt." Finally able to pry his hands off me, I finally lay back and get to see what a mess Seongje has become. His crooked glasses do nothing to hide the glazed-over look he has in his eyes, nostrils flaring a little as he takes in fresh oxygen and tongue still licking at the remnants on his wet lips. "Why do you get to keep your clothes on, huh? You get to see me naked but I can't?"
He rolls over with no protesting, lazily sliding his boxers off. Saliva pools on my tongue as I take in the sight of his throbbing cock. It's thick, leaking and an angry shade of red at the tip. The wet sheen of precum glistens under the light of his dim bedside lamp. Seongje kneels on the bed as if he's presenting himself to me, cock bobbing with his movements, "Noona, do you like it?"
He laughs a little too proudly when I can't seem to tear my eyes away, a blush tinging the tips of his ears. Subconsciously, I bite the corner of my lip, "Mhm. You're a little thick, Seongje-ya. I think you're gonna have to stretch me out."
Seongje throws his head back with a strangled whine, "You're… noona. You're gonna be the death of me."
My legs part to make way for him and he slots himself between them as if he's made for it. The tip of his finger teases my entrance as he runs it along my folds, letting the slick coat the skin before pressing one in. My breath gets caught in my windpipe, his finger is thicker and longer than mine, pressing experimentally at my upper walls.
Fuck, I missed this, missed the feeling of having something in me. Seongje looks up with his glassy eyes, "Is this okay? Can I put another in?"
His middle finger is even longer, the tip ghosting across a spongy spot inside me. "Nngh, Seongje—", I clutch the sheets as he begins to spread his fingers, scissoring them inside me. My walls push against his fingers, greedily clenching around him, only letting up after they had their fill. If the stretch wasn't enough, his mouth has descended upon my pussy, licking at my abused clit.
"Shit! You— Seongje!" I cry out as the pleasure threads through my body again, coursing through my veins and my shaking legs. His breathing gets heavier as I clench around his fingers, his other hand too busy tempering my squirming hips, "Is this good? Noona, do you feel good?"
"Fuck, Seongje-ya, gimme your cock, hm? Put it in," I squeeze the words out of the warm blur of my brain, my feet desperately running along the length of his legs pleading with him. Seongje lets up finally, tearing himself away from me just to frantically paw at the pile of clothes, rustling his pant pocket to find the pack of condoms. "Yes, okay, yes, I— okay," Seongje stumbles over his words as he rolls the condom onto his hard length.
His eyes are trained on the sight of his cock lined up to the entrance of my pussy, unable to look away or take a breath. Words get stuck in his throat as he pushes in slowly, feeling me pulse around his length. He chokes back a quiet sob when he finally bottoms out, squeezing his eyes shut. I reach out to stroke at his hair, chest heaving as I adjust to the feeling of being full and stretched out.
His hips begin to rock slowly, his cock pumping out of me in shallow strokes. My hands grasp at his shoulders, a dizzying haze of pleasure taking over my brain. "Seongje, Seongje, Seongje," I say in hushed whispers, letting my hands run over the expanse of his back, feeling how the muscles ripple as he moves.
"Noona, noona, I can't—" His voice cracks a little, "You feel so good, I think I'm gonna cum right now."
A tiny smile breaks onto my face, "You're so cute, Seongje-ya."
Something seems to snap in Seongje. He hunches over and plants his mouth on my ears, nibbling at the cartilage. Squirming against his ticklish touch and his body caging me in proves to be futile as he draws his cock out of me and slams back in again.
"Seongje!" I cry out, fingernails digging into his back. His cockhead presses against a spongy spot inside me as he thrusts, whimpers falling out of my lips as a warm tension builds in my pelvis.
His hips buck at an ungodly pace, slamming straight into the same spot. His words slur into a repetitive prayer, "Noona, noona, noona, is this good? Am I good?"
"Fuck, yes— You're so good to me, Seongje-ya."
It's almost disgusting how wet I am, each thrust of his hips is coupled with a vulgar schlickshlickshlick. He keeps a bruising grip on my waist, holding me in place even though I squirm at every tingle down my spine.
"I— I'm gonna cum, noona," Seongje whispers, breath hitching when my pussy involuntarily clenches around him.
"Can— can I— cum inside, noona, please?" He begs, cock still drilling into my sweet spot, reducing me to nothing but whimpers and pants. His voice is so sweet and pleading, as if every fibre of his being wants nothing but me.
"Fuck, Je-ya—"
He chokes back a sob, "Can I— please, please, please— Let me cum…"
The knot building in me tightens, slick gushing out of me at the thought of his cum leaking out of me, him burying his flushed face into the crook of my neck as his warm spend…
"Lemme cum inside, please— I— I can carry the baby if you get pregnant—"
"Je, what the fuck are you saying—"
His thrusts are sloppier, desperately chasing a high, "Noona, please, please lemme cum inside. You feel so good— I'll— I'll give birth, noona. Just, just let me cum please, please."
His pussydrunk whines send a ripple through my body and my pussy clenches tighter around him, practically milking his cock. A groan rips through him, as he spills into the condoms, hips stuttering. My release comes soon after, after he continues to thrust into me slowly until a strangled whimper escapes my lips.
Seongje stays buried in me, cock softening a little and face nosing around my neck and jaw. I tilt my head back and let him press as many light kisses as he wants, carding my fingers through his hair.
When the sweat between us gets unbearably sticky, I nudge Seongje off as he protests lightly. Nonetheless, he rolls over and pulls the condom off before walking towards the back of his house. Staring up at the ceiling, I barely notice that he made his way back to the bed till a warm wet fabric touches my legs.
"Is it too hot?" Seongje asks as he tenderly wipes my skin down.
I shake my head, taking the time to admire his focused expression as he cleans me up like I'm a rare and fragile artifact, setting my limbs down gingerly after he was done. He murmurs while wiping down my arms, "Your hands are so pretty, noona. You should keep your nails long like this."
"It's kinda annoying though, can't do alot of things."
"But you have me. I'll do it all for you. I'll eat you out, I'll make you squirt—"
I place a hand on his, "Okay, that's enough."
"You know its true though."
After changing into some of his spare clothes, I lay on his outstretched arms on his bed, staring at the light coming in from the windows.
"Noona,' he whines. "Take me with you when you go back to school, hm?"
I pretend not to hear that, closing my eyes and hoping that sleep takes over me.
I can already see his cheeky smile as he shakes my shoulders and whines again, "Noona, take me with you~"
In which: Geum Seongje got himself a sunshine of a girlfriend...who just happens to be Yeon Sieun's twin? + random moments + an annoying Hyoman who seems to be just everywhere.
[literally just a "walk him like a dog" relationship, Sieun DOES NOT know, Seongje meet up with his brother-in-law lmao Sieun is confused asf]
NOTE: FINISHED VER. of 'Opposites Attract', this was so fun to write, I hope its fun to read to all of you.
WC: Est. 4k
Masterlist
~~~
It's been known in the Union that the Geum Seongje, the wolf of Union got himself a girlfriend, at first they thought it was a joke, a misunderstanding, a rumor, specially after finding out that the girl they said is his girlfriend was a sweet looking one that cannot stop blabbing about everything in her mind, looks like she couldn't hurt a fly if she wanted to, let alone that she's second to Baekjin at the whole Yeo-il high school.
When they found out it's true, they thought the world was ending.
---
"Then he punched him in the face like--bam!--" She then animatedly swung her right hand against the air like she's punching something, while her left hand continues to cling on Seongje's hand, her pace unstoppable as she pulls him towards a building, three of his lackeys just behind them walking in a more calmer pace.
"You sound so amazed, do I have to punch somebody tonight too to keep you entertained?" Seongje asks making her glance at him with a shrug
"If someone bothers me you can" she playfully answers pulling a smile that reaches her eyes along with it as they finally arrive at the cybercafe, passing by a few Union guys sitting outside some even bowing as they pass by, with her yapping the world away, still holding onto him as she walks inside.
Its like watching an owner pull her dog on a leash, but no one dares to say it aloud.
---
"Okay, now go away ,"--Seongje's bored voice was the first thing Hyoman heard when he entered the cyber cafe, passing by two guys who just finished talking to Seongje.
Hyoman's heart was already thumping hard against his ribs while a cold sweat runs down his forehead one bead at a time, slowly dragging down to his chin before it eventually drops to the floor, the place was loud from the fair amount of people that were smashing their keyboards and yelling over the games they're playing, yet in the row he walked up to:
Sat four people, three men he recognized as Seongje's lackeys and then Seongje himself. Though across Seongje's was a girl he doesn't recognise but stands out because of her neat gray uniform.
"Seongje--it's me Hyoman," He awkwardly announces himself, even pretending to be casually calm by placing an arm above the glass divider of the computer table beside Seongje.
But Seongje didn't even give him a glance instead he glances upfront where ____ is, he's still frustrated that she chose to sit across him to "avoid your gamer rage since I want to focus on the show I'm watching", as she said earlier, now only adding to the pent up frustration he has about how bad the game is going.
His eyes lingering as she suddenly lets out a contained squeal as she smiles from ear to ear, he guesses that the leads finally shares a kiss or whatever she finds fluttering for that soft heart of hers.
"Are you gaming?" Hyoman asks, cutting off the amused smirk that was about to appear on Seongje's face as he clenches his jaw before going back to looking at the monitor.
"Speak," Seongje finally acknowledges him which gave Hyoman the greenlight to blabber about phones, how he needs till next week, how he's loyal and more, how he'll do his best, and how he wonders if Seongje can handle a guy named...Baku? but ____ couldn't even pick up much when the man occupying the table beside her started to be too...comfortable in her space.
At first it started with the guy accidentally kicking her side of the table when he got frustrated with the game he's playing, then it just kept happening, but now it followed with his elbow occasionally bumping on her chair's arm.
"Excuse me sir, can you please move a little, you've been bumping into me--" ____ lets out a whisper not wanting Seongje to hear her but she wasn't even given the chance to finish her sentence when the man cuts her off with a scoff.
'What the fuck?' She thought, her mouth hung open with an offended look on her face, she was about to complain again when the guy spoke up again, loudly.
"Are these Gen Z's playing ganster?" which Seongje heard but he was about to let it slide, he really would, but his already thin patience which he's really really trying to hold onto since she's here, disappeared when the man decided to speak again:
"And you brat, just because your boyfriend is playing gangster doesn't mean you can talk to me casually okay?"--Now that, Seongje cannot wave off, cause when he glance back up at his girlfriend, her adorable smile earlier now none existent, with this sad look on her face replacing it instead really pisses him off and it snapped the little restraint he has on himself.
From there everything happened so fast than everyone could process. Seongje's chair skidded backwards as he stood up abruptly, even Hyoman scaredly stepped back as Seongje walked past him towards the other side of the row.
"What do you want?--" But Seongje didn't even let him finish as his hands grabs the man's hair and started slamming his head against the keyboard, one slam for how frustrated he is at his game, second slam for how this man placed a frown on his girlfriend's face, a third slam for how Union stresses him out, and a final fourth slam just for good measure.
Nobody, not even the guy in the counter bothered to call out his actions as Seongje lets out a breath as the man below him stops moving.
With his violent urges fulfilled he looks up at _____ who sat wide eyed watching, he then pulled a wide cheshire smile like an attempt to not scare her, which in contrast of how he looks at the moment would make anyone scared of his crazed eyed look, but weirdly enough it only made a blush crept on her cheeks.
Letting go of the man he's holding, Seongje then grabs ahold of her hand pulling her up before he went back to his row, "move," he grumbles to one of his lackeys that was sitting beside him, even kicking the chair when the guy moved slowly.
"Sorry," she mumbles as Seongje mutters for her to sit down. "Sit there," Seongje let out an inaudible complaint as he tried to go back to his game.
Meanwhile, Hyoman who was still there shook, standing watching over everything that happened and how fast Seongje's mood changes.
"I think you're very busy Seongje--sorry, I'll get going" Hyoman softly excludes himself from the narrative making ____ look up and wave at him with a smile on her face, "oh, bye bye" making Hyoman bow at her before he immediately walks away.
"Who the hell was that?" Seongje asks no one as _____ softly hits him on the arm, " you don't even know who you're talking to most of the time are you?" she teased as Seongje looks at her with a smirk he's trying to stop from manifesting, "aish, watch your damn show already, gosh this is so frustrating."
---
Everyone that knew Yeon ____ knows that she's sweetest ever, but she's also the pettiest person ever when you get on her "fuck-this-bitch-list". Unfortunately for Hyoman he's currently no.1 on her list [Go Hyuntak is second at the moment] though she actually barely remembers his name, the 'Hyo' barely being able to clutch her mind, but his face is etched on her brain and what he did to her brother.
"I swear if I see him again! I'll punch his ugly face!" She was frustrated, it was obvious with how she wasn't able to shut up wanting to bash someone's face so bad for the whole time that she and Seongje met that day since he picked her up in front of her school, and even now that they're back in the cyber cafe once again: Seongje playing and her waiting for her own game to load.
Half of him was livid, he wouldn't show it but it shows with how he's more irritated in the way he's playing, while he's currently thinking of ways to pay Eunjang High a little "visit" after he found out what happened to her the other day, caught in the crossfire of her brother's fight when someone apparently tried to ambush her brother.
The other half of him, was barely keeping this chuckle that is currently stuck in his throat with how adorable she looks, yes she's mad, so mad that he could imagine fumes coming out of her ears but watching her yell threats looks so funny to him with how her eyebrows furrow, her cheeks puffing when she lets her lips pout unknowingly every time she thinks about the certain memory she's currently frustrated with.
"What's his name again?" Seongje asks so he can start hunting the guy down.
"I told you already I forgot. I thinks its Hyo...uhhh...Hyo--yeah that's all I can remember, but he's really stupid looking okay? He looks like a penguin to me, with his red pouty lips and monolid eyes--" She even took her hands off the keyboard and mouse to create two circle shapes hand on her eyes wen he cuts her off.
"Yah don't talk about some guy's lips and eyes like that, its pissing me off" Seongje grumbles just as his character wins in the game, meanwhile ____'s frustrated rambling stops, her arms dropping to her chair's arms, a surprise reaction planted on her face as her lips hang slightly open.
This made Seongje stop and look back to her while raising an eyebrow, though this little guilt started to creep in him thinking he offended her by cutting her off when she all of a sudden pulls the widest smile ever as she jumps clinging on his arm which led for him to slightly roll back on his chair from the impact of her clashing onto him.
"Are you jealous?" She asked giddily but this only made him scoff, "Jealous my ass."
"It's okay to be jealous--" She teased again, now if it's someone else he would have thrown a punch already but instead he just tried to glare at her which didn't work since her smile just got bigger.
"Aish, I said I'm not--" A smirk firming in his face as he looks away only for it to disappear before it can fully appear, an irritated frown replacing the expression on his face so ____ follows his line of sight.
Then her eyes laid on the person that just came in, followed by the gaming chair she was just sitting on rolling back as she abruptly stands up, as her hand flew up pointing her finger at the person, "you!"
Hyoman's eyes widened, his brain starting to connect dots as he looks at her then at Geum Seongje who's now glaring at him, Seongje's brain seems to connect the dots faster than he did.
"Jagiya, he's the penguin guy," She leans down whispering to Seongje's ear just confirming his thoughts.
---
It's safe to say that ____ have a very loving relationship with her brother, if loving means him tolerating her blabbers and him being a contrast to her never ending energy, but she surpasses it more when she became more clingy than usual after he came home with a missing phone a few days ago then a busted lip a couple days after that.
Though he never said who did it and what happened, Sieun's friend that she met yesterday distracted her enough from the issue, which Sieun was thankful for, meanwhile it almost made ____ threw a party after finding that Sieun got a friend, let alone a soft sweet looking one that surely looks after him.
So now there she was, still on her pristine Yeo-il uniform though a little bit creased still holds a sophisticated vibe compared to Eunjang's dress code that goes unfollowed by its students.
Her presence alone stood out like a sore thumb as she stands in front of Eunjang's gates which was picked up by Hyoman, his brain racking itself trying to remember where he'd seen her face, but the second he saw Sieun and Juntae going in the direction he wanted them to go, with Hyuntak running after them, soon enough, the familiar image of the girl was long gone in his head.
Which was his greatest mistake...not recognising Yeon ____, and not knowing that she have a wolf looking after her.
---
So that's how Hyoman ended up on the floor of the Union's parking lot grounds getting kicked by four different people he doesn't even know, trying to cover his head as he's forced to just take it before he was pulled by Baek Dongha inside Baekjin's office while Baekjin was on the phone with Geum Seongje himself.
On the other side of the call, Seongje is still at the cybercafe, now done and bored with his games he just sat there waiting for ____ to be done with her thing, with her typing up some essay she just remembered that is due the next day while she was in a middle of a game earlier.
"What was his name?" Seongje wonders when ____ spoke up still looking at her monitor, "Choi Hyoman," hate laced on her voiced as she remembered how Hyoman tried to introduce himself and apologise earlier.
"Yeah, that idiot didn't bring enough cash and lost all the phones he collected," he doesn't repeat the name knowing Baekjin heard her speak up, then he lets out a sigh before glancing at ____.
"I heard he was beaten up by Baku, I shouldn't have trusted that punk in the first place", Seongje continued as Baek Dongha suddenly spoke up, his voice being heard over the phone, "Why don't you come here and handle this mess then," he joked with a serious tone while looking at Hyoman to make him more nervous.
"Yah, I'm on a date, so get off my back," Seongje retaliates, just as Baekjin motioned for Dongha to take Hyoman away. "Take extra care of that punk," Seongje added.
"Seongje, check up on Baku," Baekjin orders, making Seongje repeat the name again, "Oh? Baku? Does Baekjin know Baku?" ____ asks looking away from her computer for a second when she heard her new friend's name being mentioned though she doesn't know why.
"Yeah, they're ex lovers," Seongje states casually just before he hangs up so Baekjin clearly heard what he said. Still ____ let out a soft laugh at his answer as she changed the topic, "Also, you call this a date?" ____ jokes after Seongje ends the call with Baekjin.
"You're here, I'm here, it's just us, it's a date." He explained so casually she almost laughed again since three of his lackeys was clearly there with them just sitting on another row, not until he followed it with: "A lot of girls would have killed to be on a date like this with me,"
Now, Seongje was clearly joking, just stating whatever comes to mind like most of his nonsense but the lack of reaction then made him look back to her now with an unamused look on her face, "Then go on a date with them then." She sneered before standing up and walking away.
"Aish," Seongje stood up slamming his hand on the table before grabbing her bag that she left, "Log out my account," he muttered to one of his lackeys who nodded just as Seongje walked out the door.
"Jagiya!"
---
Baekjin clearly didn't give a clear instruction by what he means when he said to check in on Baku, but someone normal in the Union would probably just bump into Baku while he's going home from school then deliver Baekjin's message, but Seongje being himself just have to get creative, so he followed Baku at the Seoul Museum of History.
How did he get the information that Baku is serving community service there? Who knows really, it's Seongje.
So there was Seongje walking in the museum in his bright orange windbreaker jacket looking like Vector from Despicable Me. _____ called him that before, he didn't care for the teasing, he likes that damned jacket, and she likes him whatever he wears, even if they only consist of black shirts and a wide variety of windbreakers.
Seongje who was just able to catch a glimpse of Baku who's eating in a cafeteria when someone else catches his attention, lo and behold--he saw Yeon Sieun.
In the flesh--his girlfriend's brother. The person his girlfriend adores other than him, not more than him probably, the person he's only heard from her stories and that one time Baekjin mentioned Sieun after he transferred to Eunjang because of the buzz he created in his former school.
So Seongje, who's easily distracted really, swerved from his mission for a while and climbed up the stairs to follow Sieun instead, Baekjin is curious about him anyway too, so might as well hit three birds with one stone: check in on Baku, check in on Sieun and well, meet his girlfriend's brother for the first time.
The thought process is non-existent so Seongje just acted upon it, soon enough Sieun walked away from the sink after cleaning the stain that Baku caused to his jacket that ____ gifted him, but when he turned the corner, there was a guy squatting against the wall.
Seongje who was just replying to ____'s message glanced at Sieun before hitting send then standing up.
"Cheonam(younger), hello," he called out smiling as he stood, "or is it hyeongnim(older), how old are you again?" Seongje asked in a teasing tone
Sieun stood there, letting out a confused blink, a 'what the fuck?' expression in his eyes, on why the fuck is this guy calling him brother in law? And asking if he's younger or older to use the correct term?
Meanwhile Seongje's attention stood divided when ____ replied to his message.
My Future Wife<3: Whatever you're up to, stay safe and don't cause a fight! I love youuuu<333
She clearly wrote the nickname. He's not complaining though?
"Are you Baku's friend?" Seongje then asks after Sieun didn't reply to his question earlier, to which he knows the answers since Sieun is literally the same age as his girlfriend. "You know, you'll screw up your life if you hangout with the wrong crowd," Seongje continued as he raised his phone to take a picture of Sieun while he continued to speak more nonsense.
"You have sad eyes, you know?" Seongje fills in the silence, it feels so weird for him that Sieun is so quiet, while ____ would have not tolerated this deadspace. ____ and Sieun are indeed a contrast of each other, how this sad eyed quiet guy is the twin of his bright eyed loud sunshine is a wonder to Seongje.
"Thought you would have a more louder personality like your twin sister," Seongje mumbles, now that got Sieun to speak up.
"Do you know who I am?" Sieun asked, still carrying a calm expression, he doesn't know how this guy knows his sister but he doesn't feel comforted by the idea of her being dragged into something he hasn't had an idea yet, nor being known by someone he doesn’t even know.
Don't get him wrong, Seongje was really excited to meet Sieun, this thrill of getting more idea of how ____'s life is for her just pumps his blood but Seongje may have a weird way of showing excitement because he's also curious about Sieun's violent past, and a side of him is so irritated by the fact that Sieun hasn't even looked away once, still staring with a distasteful look in his face.
"Aish, this punk just won't look away,"
3...
2...
1...
And so there he goes, Seongje's left fist swung first followed by the other hand, but Sieun dodged continuously even after Seongje tried to swing more, but Seongje wasn't really swinging to punch, no, he can't hurt Sieun who wasn't even swinging back, he was just having fun.
"You're not bad cheonam," Seongje smiled, but Sieun was busy eyeing a plant pot in the corner to notice that Seongje called him brother-in-law again.
"What? You want to bash my skull in?" Seongje jokes, clearly having too much fun at the moment.
"I just came to say hi today, so let's stop here--I'll see you later," Seongje bids his farewell with a huge chesire smile on his face, his hands on his pockets and a soft shake of his head.
"____ might just beat the shit out of me," Seongje whispered as he walked out, stepping back to the stairs to finally catch up on Baku when he saw him in the corner of his eyes, making him step back to walk towards Baku.
At the same time, while all of this was happening, ____ stood right there at Yeo-il High for her school assembly, she just finished sending Seongje a message when her name was called for an award, just as Baekjin finished receiving his.
Climbing the stage and receiving her award was a blur of standing there and listening to a long speech just to give her a framed piece of paper, but nonetheless she took it with pride then walked up beside Baekjin so a photographer could take their picture.
From a distance a girl wonders why are they receiving an award, some guy then answered, “they got the highest scores at the mock exams, the guy got everything right except number 30, the trick question. While the girl was only 1 point behind him and she’s the only one who answered the trick question correctly.”
“How did you answer the trick question?” Baekjin asks, wondering as they walk off the stage together, the assembly just ending and everyone walking away.
“I have this,” she teased, pointing at her temple. “Transfer out of Yeo-il already,” Baekjin jokes with a satire mean look on his face.
“I would if my brother’s school isn’t the worse compared to Yeo-il and if it isn’t an only boys school,” she sassed before smiling again.
“Do you want to celebrate our award? My treat even though you probably have a lot more money than me,” She said. But Baekjin shook his head, declining, “I have a job to do.”
“You’re no fun, my brother is currently doing time, for a community service he shouldn’t even be suffering from you know,” and then the rambling started:
“Then his other friends who became my friends are also with him so they’re not available for the whole morning to afternoon, then you sent my boyfriend to do a job, now you have a job to do–and I’m all alone,” She sulked dramatically, hugging her award as a pout forms on her lips as they continued to walk back to their classroom to take their bags.
“Stop sulking, you’re with Seongje everyday already,” Baekjin answered with a serious expression on his face, but she knew he was teasing her.
From outside perspective she looks like a chick following her mother hen, to other Yeo-il High students it was still a wonder on how she got through Baekjin’s cold and closed off exterior, honestly sometimes ____ wonders about it too, but Baekjin is her only friend at Yeo-il High so it’s not like she can complain.
Though Baekjin would never admit it to anyone, she does remind him of Baku, and maybe that's why.
“Fine, I’ll hang out with your ex lover then,” She muttered, Baekjin barely catching what she said as she walked away.
---
And maybe it's just her luck, because just as she was walking around the neighbourhood, passing time till Seongje finishes about a “job” he apparently isn’t done with, she passes by a fried chicken shop with a familiar tall big guy just coming out the door at the same time she glanced by.
“Oh? BAKU!”
“____!Wah, what are you doing here? Do you want to come in?” Baku’s voice echoes through the neighbourhood, his excitement evident with the way he spoke and the way his smile widens
“Is Sieun with you guys?” She asks glancing at the windows only to find Juntae and Hyuntak, the two already looking at them, Juntae giving an energetic wave which she reciprocated while Hyuntak gave a much more calmer one to which ____ only rolled her eyes against–still petty about the time Hyuntak ambushed Sieun thinking he ruined their club room + the mean things he said to her brother.
She was more affected by it than Sieun himself really.
“Nope, he left earlier saying he’ll go home already, but you can still join us,” Baku smiles to his yapping buddy and she was already about to agree, when her phone lights up, a message from Seongje stating that he’s done with his thing and will meet her at their spot.
“Not today Baku, I have a date with my boyfriend,” She giddily smiles as Baku’s eyes give her a teasing look, “Wow, didn’t know our little Yeon have a love life,” He teased ruffling her hair
“Little Yeon!? I’m an inch taller than Sieun and I’m five minutes older!” She complained, swatting his hand away.
“But can you keep it a secret? Sieun doesn’t know I have a boyfriend,” She talked her hand on the side of her mouth like she’s telling the biggest secret ever, as Baku leaned before putting a thumbs up and a cheeky smile, “Okay okay, your secret is safe with me big Yeon,”
—
Weirdly enough,Yeon ____ is connected to everyone at some extent, Sieun’s her brother, Seongje’s her boyfriend, Baekjin and Baku(the ex lovers,for real) were her best friends: one inside the school, one outside– it seems that she just can’t stop attracting people who are opposite of her, so how was she still left clueless about what’s happening around her is so mindblowing specially when:
Geum Seongje got stabbed in the foot.
What.a.fucking.dumbass. – She thought
Meanwhile Yeon Sieun got into a fight.
What.the.fuck. – was her initial reaction
Why the hell the two most important people in her life got beaten up at the same time is a wonder to her, but the plot twist?
She doesn’t even know that both men did it to each other.
She hasn’t connected the dots yet added that she’s too busy being fucking pissed at Baekjin after she heard what he did to Seongje, not even caring about Seongje’s well being, and apparently Baekjin cornered him to threaten him instead after his foot-stabbing incident.
So now she’s not even acknowledging him even at school while Seongje’s “taking a break from all that shit, those punks are useless anyway,” his words not hers. Which was lowkey a win for her, more time with her boyfriend she guess?
Given that Seongje never told her that he was the one that beat up Sieun and looks like Sieun kept his mouth shut about stabbing someone, so…so far, ____ hasn’t murdered either of them for hurting each other.
Well until today.
Maybe the gods have woken up and said: PENANCE.
It was a bright day, a carefully planned one: ____ would enjoy her whole morning alone at home, her whole afternoon with Sieun and his friends at their usual spot in an abandoned basketball court near Eunjang, and end her day by spending the whole night wasting away at the cyber cafe with Seongje.
“Then he told me that I only passed my exams because I’m friends with the smartest guy in Yeo-il!” ____ complained which received a mix of reactions from her friends:
A pikachu face reaction from Juntae along with a “that’s so mean!”, a “That’s so unfair!What’s his name?I’ll throw him off a cliff!” from Baku which was followed by a hit in his head by Hyuntak, while Sieun just shook his head.
“Right!? And I’m not even friends with that guy anymore after he did something bad to my boyfriend,” ____ slips as Juntae, Hyuntak and especially Sieun look at her with a confused look on their faces.
“Boyfriend?” Sieun mutters, a neutral look on his face yet his eyes spoke ‘tell.now.’
“I…I’m thirsty, are you guys thirsty?--I’ll buy everyone a drink at the convenience store nearby!” She yells as she runs away.
“Did you know something?” Sieun suddenly spoke up looking at Baku who he noticed was quiet, which was the complete opposite of his reaction if he had not known it beforehand.
“Uh…”
“Yah, so who is it? Do you know who is it?” Hyuntak asks as Juntae leans forward to hear them better in case Baku reveals it.
“Aish, I don’t even know who it is, just that she has one,” Baku complains and they were just about to push more when a voice rang through the air before they could.
“Is this where all the Eunjang punks hangout in your free time?”
“Geum Seongje,” Sieun mutters as all of them look at him, Baku, Hyuntak and Juntae standing from the bleachers they were just sitting on, while Sieun remained seated.
“Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” Hyuntak spoke up first clearly referring to his still slight limp because of Sieun stabbing him with his own glasses.
“I have to get an anti-tetanus shot for that, you know?” Seongje exhales, "My girl wasn't so entertained," he added while looking at Sieun and not even giving Hyuntak a glance.
“I’m sorry about that,” Sieun spoke up, truly feeling sorry about it, he doesn’t want to hurt anybody but the action calls for it at that time, his apology then takes Seongje aback as he stares at Sieun wondering what’s going on in his head.
“What do you want, Geum?” Hyuntak asks, “Just go away, we don’t have time for this today,” Baku added, knowing that ____ can come back anytime now and she really wouldn’t appreciate a fight.
“I’m not even looking for a fight today, but you punk is really pissing me off,” Seongje mutters looking at Hyuntak before looking down as he takes off his new glasses, which made Hyuntak pose in a fighting stance as he steps upfront while Sieun pulls out a pen from his pockets.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” ____’s voice cuts through the tension as they turn in her direction, which now gives her a clear view of Seongje, which loosens the frown on her face and instead replaces it with a huge smile and a twinkle in her eyes.
“Jagiya!” She squeals, running towards him as she crashes a hug onto Seongje’s side.
“Jagiya!?” Baku, Hyuntak, and Juntae yelled at the same time just as ____ gave them a glance, still hugging Seongje’s side.
“Jagiya?” Sieun asks, his mouth hung slightly open, furrowed eyebrows, a confused look in his eyes and a very slight glare.
“Well I didn’t mean to introduce him like this but, this is Seongje, my boyfriend,” she smiled before letting him go, holding Seongje by the arm instead, him standing straight, pne of his hands on his pockets, a smirk on his smug face, but soon enough she realized that her friends weren’t smiling nor excited in the slightest bit.
“What’s happening here?” She asks, realising now the situation she just walked into, looking at their stance, Sieun with his pen on his hand and Seongje’s glasses on his hand was all she needed as confirmation making her frown as she lets go of Seongje and smacks his arm instead.
“Are you guys fighting?--Seongje put your glasses back on, Sieun-a, put your pen away–what is up with you guys?” ____ sighs her hands now on her waist like a mother reprimanding children, “lose the glare, Baku and Hyuntak,”
“____, do you even know what he did? He beat me up!” Hyuntak complained first when Baku followed, “He almost ruined our little Yeon’s face!” Baku exclaimed, clutching Sieun’s cheeks with his hands before Sieun swatted it away with a glare in his eyes.
“You’re the one that beat my brother up!?” ____ exclaims as she starts swinging her arm in an attempt to smack Seongje but he is quick in his steps as he backs and swerves away.
“Yah Jagiya, aren’t you supposed to be on my side? Sieun stabbed my foot” Seongje complained smugly just as ____ was able to land a hit on his side making him hiss, for someone so small she does have a strong set of hands.
“You’re the one who stabbed Seongje? He had to get multiple tetanus shots for that, I was so stressed out!” ____ yelled, her focus now on Sieun who now stood up dodging coin sized pebbles that she picked off the ground and is now throwing his way, for someone so calm, Sieun lowkey internally started to panic when she got closer with her sharp precision of throwing the rocks landing on his shoulders or arms every single time.
“____,– Sieun was just protecting us because Seongje got Hyuntak and I beaten up,” Juntae tried to reason to make her stop as she now turned to Seongje.
“What!? Seongje, I get Hyuntak, he’s annoying a fuck, but Juntae? Inexcuseable!” She yelled
“Yah!” Hyuntak grumbles at what she said but she was too busy walking towards Seongje to smack him again. “Aish,I didn’t even lay a hand on him,” Seongje complains, backing away.
“Uhhh ____, Seongje did save me when I was being beaten up by the Union,” Juntae spoke up, now in pursuit of saving Seongje from ____ this time.
And so the chaos continued to ensue.
Which what led them to now’s situation: Hyuntak, Baku, Sieun, and Seongje all lined up sitting on the court’s ground, it seems that Juntae was the only safe one as he stood beside ____ who stands tall in front of the four guys before her, to how she was able to handle them was a wonder too, but at least the smacking and throwing of pebbles has already stopped.
“Do you guys promise to get along now?”
A chorus of different “yes,” then follows, a loud yell of it from Baku, a sneer from Hyuntak, a mutter from Sieun, and a grumble from Seongje before he looks up at ____.
“Jagi, I’m getting more attracted to you when you pull this bratty attitude,” Seongje smirks, making ____ smack him in the head his glasses going askew, though the blush on her cheeks betrays her.
“Aish shibal, I was just joking.”
NOTE: Hope you guys like it. Though now I lowkey wanna write a one shot of how she got tangled up with Seongje now</3
The first thing geum seongje noticed about you was your carelessness.
It was a fleeting observation in the crowded school hallway. Your uniform skirt had ridden up slightly at the back, revealing the silver of skin above your knee-high socks. You were laughing with a friend, completely oblivious, not even noticing the way his cold, calculating eyes behind his glasses tracked the movement, how his gaze lingered.
‘So dumb.’he thought, a curl of disdain on his lip. ‘So easy, she doesn't even have the basic awareness to protect herself.’
The idea was a spark that quickly caught fire in his twisted mind. You were pretty enough, vacant enough. The perfect toy. He decided then and there that you would be his.
His approach was a masterclass in manipulation. He played the part of aloof, slightly mysterious transfer student. He found excuses to be near you, offering clumsy, backhanded compliments that you mistook for shyness. He made you feel special, chosen, the only one he'd bother talking to.
“My parents are never home.”He said one day, adjusting his glasses, a gesture meant to look nervous but was purely calculated.” The house is quiet. We could…study there. Better than the library.”
You, naive and flattered by the attention of someone so intense and handsome, agreed. You followed him to his apartment, clean space that held the faint metallic sent of adrenaline and sweat, not books.
There was no studying.
He backed you against the front door the moment it clicked shut, his body caging yours. His first kiss was deceptively soft, almost gentle, a predator luring it's prey into a false sense of security. His hands were careful as he undressed you, mapping your body with curiosity that made you shiver. His large hands roaming around your body gently.
But the patience of a fighter is a thin veil. The moment he had you barely and vulnerable beneath him on his bed, it shredded.
“Wait–seongje–slow down!” you protested, a flicker of fear finally igniting as his touch turned from exploration to possession.
“Why?”he murmured, his voice low, but his hands were rough,pinning your wrists above your head. “Isn't that what you came for? You followed a guy you barely know to his apartment. You knew what this was.” The hatred dripped from his words, slick and poisonous. “This is all you're good for anyway. Stop pretending otherwise.”
He didn’t wait for your reply. He sheathed himself inside you in one brutal thrust, tearing a choked cry from your throat. Your pain and protest meant nothing to him, they were just background noise to his own gratification.
“So tight.”He grunted, his hips setting a punishing rhythm. “Such a pretty, dumb, little hole. Made one this, only for this.”
[♡]
And so it became your routine. Your purpose. He has a fighter's high sex drive, an addiction to adrenaline that needed a physical release only your body could provide. He'd text you a location–a time–a command. My place. After school. Be there. He never waited for a reply. You were expected to obey.
You grew to hate it. The roughness that left you sore for days. The degrading comments he'd whispered and snarled into your skin ‘you take me so well, you filthy slut.’ ‘This cunt is the only smart thing about you.’ ‘come for me, I own you.’
The worst was when he saw you laughing with a male classmate about a group project. That night his possession was violent.
“Why were you laughing with him?” He snarled, his thrust so hard the bedframe slammed against the wall.” You never laugh like that with me. You his slut,now? Huh?” he punctuated each word with a snap of his hips, his hands leaving bruises on your thighs. “I'll ruin you for anyone else. You think anyone would want used good like you?”
You tried to dissociate, to let you mind drift away while your body endured. But he tightly gripped your chin to make you look at him. Without his glasses, his eyes are even more terrifying. “Look at me, when I'm cum inside of you. You like it. You whore.” You whimpered when his cock hit your cervix. Then ropes of hot sticky cum hit your walls. He keeps himself buried inside you, making sure his cum stays inside you.
But today, you decided to be brave. The text came as usual. My place. Now. You read it. You left it on read. You went home instead.
Seongje was buzzing from a fight, his knuckles raw and bleeding. The adrenaline was singning in his veins and all he could think about was burying himself into your warmth, using your body to come down from the high. But you weren't there.
He called. Once. Twice. Five times. You didn’t pick up.
His texts grew progressively darker.
Where are you?
Answer your phone, you stupid bitch.
You have three seconds to tell me you're on your way before I come find you.
You silenced your phone, your heart hammering with mixture of fear and exhilarating defiance.
A humorless, chilling laugh escaped him. ‘You're trying to rebel.’ The thought didn't anger him, it excited him. A new game. A new way to dominate you.
He was at your home within an hour, his expression a perfect mask of concerned friendship for your mother.
“I'm so sorry to bother you, ma'am.” He said, pushing his glasses up his nose, the picture of polite worry.” We had a project meeting. Y/n wasn't feeling good and left her notes. I just wanted to make sure she got home okay and give them to her.”
Your mother utterly charmed, let him in.
The moment she was out of earshot, the mask dropped. He backed you into the corner of the front door, his voice a venomous whisper only you could hear.
“You dare to ignore my calls and messages.” He tilted his head, his eyes dead and cold. It was the greatest insult you could have ever offered him. “Put your shoes on, we're going. Now”
Trembling, you followed him out. “Seongje–look I'm sorry. I just…I don't think I can do this anymore. I'm tired.”
He didn’t even look at you. “No more of that. You think any real man would want after I'm done with you today? You're spoiled. Broken. I'm the only one who'll even tolerate you.”
The walk to his apartment was a silent death march. Your whispered pleas”please just let me go home.”dissolved into thet air, ignored. He didn’t even look at you. His silence was more terrifying than any shout.
The moment his apartment door clicked shut, the fragile dam holding back his fury shattered.
He didn’t speak. He moved. His hand snapped out, a blur of motion and connected with your cheek with a crack that echoed in a silence. Your heart snapped to the side, a cry tearing from your throat as the taste of copper bloomed on your tongue.
“Shut up.”He hissed, his voice low and guttural. “You don't get to speak. You don't get to plead. You lost that right when you decided to be a disobedient little whore.”
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to force you to look at him. Without his glasses, his eyes are black pits of pure, unadulterated hatred. “You ignored me. You. You dared to ignore me.” The words were laced with a disbelief that curdled into venom. “Who do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
He dragged you to the center of the room and threw you on the floor. You scrambled backwards, but he was on you in an instant, his knee digging into your spine, pinning you face down, against the cold unforgiving floor. The weight knocked the air from your lungs.
You heard the unmistakable metallic click of his belt buckle opening, the harsh zip of leather whipping through the loops.
“You need a reminder.” He snarled. “A reminder of what happens to sluts who forget their place.”
But the belt didn't fall immediately. Instead his free hand groped at your legs, roughly pushing your skirt up your thighs and bunching it around your waist, exposing you to the cold, dank air. A sound of pure terror escaped you. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties.
“No–!” You pleaded but the word was cut short by a brutal rip of fabric tearing. He shredded the delicate material and yanked it down, bearing your skin completely.
Now the belt fell.
The first lash came without warning. A searing line of pure fire erupted across the back of your thighs. You screamed, the sound raw and utterly terrified. The second landed higher on the tender exposed flesh of your ass and you choked on sob tears immediately blurring your vision.
“This is for ignoring me.”He growled, bringing the belt down again with a sickening crack. The leather bit into your skin, raising an instant burning welt. “This is for thinking you could say no.” crack. Another stripe, parallel to the first. “This is for making me come find you.” crack. “Like some common bitch.”
crack.
But then, a treacherous, shameful heat began to pool in your core, a sickening contrast to the stinging fire on your skin. Your body, betraying you completely, grew damp and aching with each punishing strike. A broken, confused whimper escaped your lips—not just from the pain, but from the horrifying, unwanted arousal that coiled tight in your belly. You clenched your thighs together, a futile attempt to hide your shame.
“Look at that,” he whispered, a dark, triumphant laugh in his voice. “All marked up and dripping for me. You really are a perfect little slut, aren’t you? You even get wet from your punishment.”
He didn't stop. The blows rained down, methodical and cruel, until your skin was ruined canvas of angry, cross hatched welts, until your screams turned into broken, hiccupping whimpers against the dirty floor.
He finally threw the belt aside, his breath ragged with perverse excitement. He leaned down, his mouth closer to your ear.
“Now you'll remember. “He panted, “every time you sit down. You'll remember who you belong to.”
He picked you up and threw you on the bed, flipping onto your back. Your tears meant nothing to him. They are just proof of his control. He tore at your clothes, the fabric ripping under his frantic hands.
“Was it him?” He spat, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips, leaving bruises. “That pathetic loser from your class? The one you were laughing with? Did you spread your legs for him? Did you let him fuck this stupid, worthless cunt?”
“No! Seongje–please!” You begged, trying to push his chest away, but your strength has gone.
He slapped you again harder this time, making your vision swim. “Don't lie to me! I saw you! Laughing like a whore. You think he'd want you if he knew how many times I've filled you with my cum? You're used goods. You're my used goods.
He shoved himself inside you in one violent, tearing thrust. You cried out, the pain from the belt lashes a fresh agony beneath his weight. He set a brutal, punishing pace, his hips slamming into you, the bedframe screeching in protest.
“You belong to me!” he roared, his hands wrapping around your throat and squeezing. Your eyes winded, your hands clawing at his wrists as spots danced in your vision. “Your body, your fuckimg holes, they are mine!You breathe because I allow it!You come because I allow it!”
He released your throat only to flip you onto your stomach, ignoring your pained cries as your wounded backside hurted. He entered you from behind, his grip on your hips viscous.
“You think you can find someone better than me?” he grunted pounding into you. “There is no one better. There's no one else. I'm the only man who'll ever touch you. I'm the only man who will ever want the pathetic broken slut I've made you.”
His degradation was a relentless torrent, each filthy word another brick in the wall of your despair. He came with guttural shout, spilling deep inside you but he didn't stop. He was a machine of possession driven by a bottomless well of rage and insecurity.
He flipped you onto your back again, his eyes wild. “I'm not done with you. I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk. Until you can't even think about anyone else. Until my scent is the only thing you know.”
He forced you onto your knees, then onto all your fours, then against the wall. Each position was a new violation, each thrust a punishment. He came inside you again and again, marking you, claiming you, trying to fill you so completely that no imaginary rival could ever exist.
Finally as a pale dawn began to lighten the windows, he collapsed over you, spent. His weight was suffocating prison. He nuzzled into your sweat damp hair, his voice a grotesque parody of affection.
“You see?” he whispered, his large hand splaying over your lower stomach. “Now you're really mine. You'll carry my child. My son. Everyone will look at you and see my property. You'll never escape me. Never.”
He fell asleep like that, on top of you, inside you, a permanent horrifying claim. You lay awake, trapped under the crushing weight of him. Naked. Raw. Used. The defiance was gone, burned away his rage. But a new, colder terror had taken its place, freezing you from inside out.
A child. The thought was an ice pick to your soul. You are too young. It's not a choice. A permanent tether to seongje. And his insistence that it would be a son–a little version of him to continue his legacy of control–made your stomach churn with nausea. Just the thought of being pregnant is making you feel like this. And if you turned out to be pregnant then you then you're fucked. You need to get out of this mess as soon as possible. But you don't know if seongje would let you get away from him or not.
Takes place after the scene in episode 7 where Seong-Je saves Jung-Tae from the union members.
It has been a few days since you heard from Seong-Je, and honestly, it’s not a big surprise that he is off the radar again. However, he always calls you on the third day at the latest. He left you wondering why it was different this time, and the radio silence from him was starting to become troubling.
You sat at your desk, bouncing your leg up and down, anxiously chewing away on your fingernails. Reaching towards your phone, you hurriedly found his number and tried to reach him again. “The number you dialed is not available…” Voicemail, again.
You stood up and started pacing around your room, wondering what to do and how to find him. You weren’t the biggest fan of Na Baek-Jin, but he was your best option at this point.
You went through your contacts and found his number to call him. “Hello?” an uninterested voice came from the other side. “Hi, Baek-Jin. How are you?” You spoke with hesitation. “What do you want from me? Don’t know where Seong-je is?” He asked with annoyance. “Actually, yeah. Can you tell me where he is?” You asked nervously. “Hmm.” He said after a bit of silence and hung up on you.
A minute later, he texted an address. It’s an address to a warehouse that you had never heard of. You quickly thanked him and sneaked out of the house without alerting your parents. Though they wouldn’t even care if they saw you leave.
You ran your way there as it surprisingly wasn’t too far away, and your fear of not seeing him even tonight grew a pit in your stomach, making you rush. You reached there and took a moment to catch your breath before sliding the door open and walking in.
His head shot towards the sound of your foot shuffling in, almost dropping his newly lit cigarette onto the ground. He looked confused and stood up to walk towards you.
You let out a sigh of relief before lunging yourself at him and hugging him with all the strength you could gather. “I missed you. Were you here all this time?” You asked with a hint of worry. “What are you doing here?” He asked in his raspy voice. You let go of him and looked towards his face. Caressing a fresh scar on his face, you smiled softly until you realised that he hadn’t called you for days, for no fucking reason. Slowly, your expression changed from shocked to anger, and before you knew it, you slapped him across the face.
The cigarette in his mouth went flying to the other side of the room. He slowly turned his head to you with his jaw locked in anger. “What the fuck was that for?” He asked sternly. “You haven’t called me for days, what’s wrong with you? You usually send me a text at least.” You shouted at him with annoyance. However, slapping him and shouting at him was the last thing he needed from anybody, especially not from his girlfriend. His pent-up anger was not going to do either of you any good tonight, and he knew it.
He glared at you before reaching his hand to the back of your head and began dragging you towards the couch by your hair to push you onto it. It took you a second to realise that you had fucked up as he scowled towards you before reaching into his pocket and getting a new cigarette. He lit it and took a long drag of smoke from it before sighing.
He bent down to your eye level before gripping both your cheeks using his hand with bloody knuckles. It felt so harsh to the point that your eyes started to tear up in fear. Seong-Je isn’t a bad boyfriend, but he has his moments which make you fear him, and this was one.
He took a slow drag of the cigarette, eyes locked in with yours, and blew the smoke towards your face. You felt yourself start to cough because of it, but his grip on you became stronger until he spoke. “Though you’re my girlfriend, what gives you the right to slap me, huh? You think you’re so tough, princess.” You began squirming in your seat, uncomfortable, scared, and aroused.
A little secret about you is that you love when Seong-Je is terrifying. You love when he speaks to you sternly in his low voice, because you trust him enough to know that he would never truly hurt you. He noticed your squirming before letting go of your face with a harsh enough push to be thrown onto the couch.
You moved up towards the couch when you saw him get on the couch to climb towards you while taking a long drag of smoke. You didn’t know what his next move was and it made you curious. He grabbed your throat and bent down to kiss you roughly. Shotgunning smoke into your mouth, teeth clashing and saliva dripping from the sides. It felt as if you both were fighting for dominance but of course, he easily won and pushed his tongue into your mouth exploring it. You felt the smoke taste in the back of your throat and his glasses dug deep into your cheeks which hurt to the point that you reached towards it and pushed it over his head. He pulled away and reached for the glasses to set it down on the table next to you both before resuming with the kiss. Both your hands were now wrapped around his bloody hand that was on your throat to try and remove it. As the minutes went on, you felt the lack of oxygen in your body.
He finally lets go and you gasp trying to take in as much air as you can into your lungs. He looked at you with a smug smirk on his face as you struggled to breathe. You felt his hands reach towards your shirt and unbutton it slowly. You reached towards his zip-up hoodie and began unzipping it as your hands trembled with desperation.
He took his hoodie off and then pulled your shirt from your arms and tossed it to the side before unbuckling your bra and doing the same to it. You suddenly felt shy when you realised how naked you were compared to him. You tugged his shirt that was under the hoodie indicating that he should take it off. “What, should I be as naked as you now?” He asked teasingly. You nodded shyly, all while hiding your breasts under your arms.
He obliged accordingly, because he wanted you as badly as you wanted him. Maybe even more than you did. He grabbed your arms with one hand and pinned them above your head onto the couch before grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it while licking the other like a hungry animal. You felt yourself become wetter, making you arch your chest towards his face, wanting more. He left little nips and hickeys across your chest and neck before moving to lick your stomach.
He let go of your hands and looked upwards at you before biting the elastic waistband of your shorts to pull it down. Your hand went onto his hand that was still on your chest, and you moved it to your nipple, wanting some more friction to try and relieve how aroused you felt.
He used his other hand to take off both your panties and shorts fully and placed his cigarette on the table next to you both. Afterwards, he settled his hands on your waist, gripping it tightly as he dipped his face down towards your heat, giving it kitten licks just to tease you. Your hand flew towards his hair to try and push his face towards you more, wanting to reach climax. He began licking you more aggressively, mouth covered in your wetness.
You couldn’t help but start rolling your hips against his face and moaning loudly as he stimulated your clit. His one hand reached downwards and circled your entrance before plunging two fingers into you. He began fucking you with his fingers that reached deep inside you. You felt yourself going lightheaded with all the stimulation that was starting to become too much. You indicated this by trying to push his face away from you.
He looked up when you began trying to push him away from you. He began getting more excited feeling you try to fight the pleasure he gave you. His hand easily took both of your hands and locked them into place like before and began kissing you making you taste yourself all while fucking you with his fingers. He felt himself growing a boner in his pants, which was starting to become bothersome because of how aroused he was. Not even seconds after he began kissing you, the climax washed over you aggressively, making you moan into the kiss.
He slowly let go of your hands and lips to examine your fucked-out face that was filled with bliss as you slowly caught your breath. He removed his fingers from you, making you shiver a bit. He then moved to unbuckle his belt and jeans. He took his belt and brought your hands together to restrain it, before flipping you over onto your stomach. “Ass up, beautiful.” He quietly spoke into your ear before biting it. You felt the pain of the bite, making you quickly obey his words.
He gave his cock a few pumps before burying himself in your wetness. He groaned in satisfaction, because believe it or not, he missed you so much, even though he would never say it to your face. You felt so full and was trying to adjust to his size after weeks of not doing it, as you both had been busy even before he went off the radar.
He began a slow pace before fastening, creating a rough rhythm, making you whine and making him moan. He reached over to the cigarette to take long drags of smoke while fucking you. After all, doing it with you was ecstasy to him because he worshiped your body like no other. While he did love you so much, he also loved to see you cry in pain.
An idea popped into his head as he was fucking you, which caught you by surprise. Your eyes widened as you felt hot circles of burn on your butt. It didn’t take you long to realise that he was putting off the cigarette on your butt. You panicked and began fumbling with his belt on your wrists. “What are you doing?” You asked hurriedly, trying to see. He chuckled and said, “What do you think?”
He then tossed the cigarette to the side before licking his hand to calm down your burn marks. You quietly sobbed as he did it because, one, it hurt and two, it felt good at the same time that you felt embarrassed. He noticed that you were crying and couldn’t help but smile. He reached to your hair and pulled your head up from it and took a good look at your face before licking your tears and peppering your face with kisses. You couldn’t help but whimper as you felt loved, how ironic. He whispered in your ear, “You know I love you, right?” You knew very well, after all, he was always loyal to you no matter how he treated you at times.
He always looked after you when you felt down about anything. Whenever a guy would even look at your way or try to approach you, he would be like a guard dog ready to fight them off. He treasured you a little too much to the point that he was scared of how possessive he felt over you. “Yes my love, I know.” You croaked out weakly but happily.
He flipped you over to admire your face while he fucked you deep. He placed a palm of his hand on your lower stomach while holding your waist so he could feel himself fuck you. This pressure pushed you over the edge making you see stars and made him groan.
After a while of doing so, he got rid of his belt on your wrists so you could reach out to him and hug him as he fucked you to reach his climax, but Seong-Je always puts your sexual needs above his and makes you reach it before him.
He kissed you as he held you close, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as your fingernails scratched his back with aggression. He locked his eyes onto yours before giving a few final thrusts which made you both reach the climax together. You couldn’t help but bite his shoulder to mask your moan as he filled you up with his cum. This made him moan and groan a little too loudly than he would’ve preferred, which you loved.
You let go of his shoulder and peppered a few kisses from his shoulder to his face while caressing it. He pulled out of you and laid beside you while breathing heavily and hugging you close to him.
You felt his heart beat loudly against his chest. At this point, you didn’t even care for an explanation as to why he gave you radio silence for longer than you would’ve liked. He was there, and you were in his arms; it was all you needed to feel all the comfort in the world.
"See?" he whispered, his voice husky but perfectly clear, devoid of real passion. "This is better. Isn't it? When you stop fighting it. It doesn't have to hurt this much. You make it hurt." You did this. Your struggle caused this pain.
content warnings - dark!Seongje (a walking red flag), non-consensual themes, misogynistic language, degrading dialogue, threats, physical violence, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia elements, and oral sex (m!receiving). This story contains coercive and manipulative behavior, aggressive physical contact, humiliation, and psychologically distressing dynamics throughout.
word count : 8.5k
This was requested (actually a mix of several requests combined into one).
The smile slipped onto your face the second you saw Baekjin. It was instinct, like muscle memory. He had that effect. “Hey, love,” he said, greeting you the way he always did, voice soft, shoulders easy. He reached for your hand as if it belonged to him, tugging you close. “How was your day?”
“Slow,” you answered, letting his fingers lace with yours. “But I liked it.” The warmth of him made you forget how cold the world could get. Together you headed toward the hideout, that strange comfort place where Baekjin felt more alive and yet more dangerous.
He was sweet but when he was with his crew, something in him shifted. His laugh turned sharper, his stance heavier, a different current thrumming through his veins. He was still Baekjin, but not the one who picked you up from work. You hesitated before asking, “Is Seongje going to be there?” Baekjin let out a sigh, the sound of inevitability. “Of course he is. And I know you don’t like him. But he knows how to behave when I’m around.”
“Yeah,” you muttered, squeezing his hand, “but when you’re not there? He makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.” The words hung between you. Baekjin gave a small, lopsided smile, but didn’t answer right away. You knew why because even Baekjin, the one person who could put Seongje in check, understood what you meant.
Seongje was different. Not just an asshole, not just a nuisance. There was something in him that curdled the air, a wrongness that thrived the second Baekjin wasn’t there to smother it. He behaved, yes, but only because he chose to. And the moment Baekjin’s back was turned, you could feel his eyes on you, that glassy, reptile stare crawling your skin, measuring how far he could push before you broke. Even with Baekjin’s hand in yours, the thought of Seongje was enough to sour your smile.
The hideout smelled like smoke and ramen broth gone sour, that mix of sweat and restlessness only boys like this could ferment. Baekjin had your hand laced in his, but it didn’t stop Seongje’s eyes from cutting to you the second you walked in.
“Didn’t know we were bringing girlfriends to the playground,” he said, his grin slanted, his glasses catching the dim light. His voice had that oily drawl, dripping disdain but lined with something sharper. “What, you here to pour the drinks, sweetheart? Or just watch us beat the shit out of people?”
You felt the familiar heat rise in your chest, the one that always flared whenever he spoke to you like that. Baekjin shot him a look, sharp enough to slice, and for a while Seongje quieted, content to linger in the corner, smirk coiled tight.
But then Baekjin’s phone buzzed. He sighed, muttered something about it being important, and stepped out to take the call. The second the door shut, the air shifted. You felt it the leash snapping off.
Seongje leaned forward, elbows on his knees, that grin widening like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His eyes dragged over you, deliberate and invasive. “So tell me,” he said, voice low, “is Baekjin any good? Or does he just talk tough and hope you fake it for him?”
The words hit hot, filthy, designed to crawl under your skin and lodge there. You felt your fists clench before you even thought. He laughed, soft and delighted, like he’d plucked the exact nerve he wanted. That was when you swung. Your fist cracked across his jaw, a clean, bright shock that silenced his laugh mid-breath. His head snapped to the side, glasses skidding down his nose, the smirk breaking but not shattering.
For a second, there was silence, the sound of your own pulse roaring in your ears. And then Seongje straightened, tongue sliding across his lip, tasting the blood where you’d split it. And he smiled. Wider than before.
The smile bled across his face slow, like it hurt and he liked it. His tongue flicked over the corner of his mouth again, catching the metallic tang of his own blood. The sound he made made your stomach flip.
“Oh, you’ve got fire,” he murmured, sitting back like nothing had happened, like your fist wasn’t still throbbing from connecting with his jaw. “That’s what I like about you. You pretend you’re disgusted, but you’ve got this… spark.” His gaze crawled up your body with surgical patience, each pause deliberate. He wanted you to feel pinned.
“You know,” he said, voice soft and conversational, like you were two people gossiping over coffee, “Baekjin doesn’t get it. He looks at you and sees something to protect. I look at you and I see what you really are. You’re not his princess. You’re mine.”
You kept your stance hard, fists tight, but the truth was your pulse was going haywire, every instinct screaming don’t let him see fear. Seongje tilted his head, that reptilian gleam burning brighter behind his glasses. “Punch me again,” he whispered, like it was a dare. “Do it. I swear I’ll only want you more.”
The door creaked. Baekjin’s voice called from the hall, muffled by the phone tucked to his ear. Seongje leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees as he adjusted his glasses and when he looked up, his eyes were dark, gleaming with amusement. His smile was small, almost lazy, but it made your stomach tighten. “And don’t think your knight can save you. He won’t always be around.”
Then, just as the doorknob turned, he reclined back against the couch, blood still wet on his lip, smirk locked in place like nothing had happened at all.
When Baekjin wasn’t waiting outside after your shift, the way he always was, you felt it first in your chest like a string had been cut. Something was wrong. You didn’t even think. You just moved, feet pounding the pavement, cutting through alleys toward the hideout. By the time you slammed open the gate, your breath was coming in sharp gulps. “Baekjin!” you shouted, voice cracking, desperate.
Every head turned. The chatter died like someone had yanked the cord from a stereo. Faces blank, startled and unreadable. A silence that weighed heavy, pressing against your ears. Then Seongje stepped forward, peeling himself out of the crowd like he’d been waiting for his cue. His glasses caught the weak light, his smile thin and wrong, too calm.
“He’s dead,” Seongje said. Just like that. No buildup, no gentleness. His voice carried, slicing through the air, savoring the cut. The words hit you like a shove to the chest. Dead. The air left your lungs. Your body went stiff, numb, like the floor had vanished beneath you. You didn’t know whether to scream, to collapse or to demand he take it back.
Seongje tilted his head, watching the way the news landed, eyes bright with something feverish. He wasn’t mourning. He was studying. You realized too late that he wasn’t just telling you. He was enjoying it. Your unraveling, your silence, the chaos under your skin. And when his smirk curved, slow and deliberate, you knew this moment had been waiting for him. Baekjin was gone. And now nothing stood between you and Seongje.
The silence hung heavy, thick enough to choke on. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Seongje did it for you. He stepped closer, deliberate, unhurried, every footfall a reminder that Baekjin wasn’t here anymore that the buffer between you and him had been buried six feet under.
“You look pale,” he said, his voice soft, almost tender. The mockery in it scraped raw. “Like you didn’t think it could happen. Like you thought he was untouchable.” His smile twitched wider. You stumbled back a step, but the crowd closed in behind you, his crowd now. Their eyes slid away, not meeting yours, not helping. They weren’t loyal to you. They were loyal to whoever held the throne. And that was now Seongje.
His hand brushed your arm lightly, mock-gentle, a lover’s touch twisted into something terrifying. “Don’t worry, love,” he murmured, almost sweet. “You don’t have to be alone. You’ve still got me.” Laughter bubbled in his throat, sharp and cracked, and you realized then that the walls weren’t closing in because of grief. They were closing in because Seongje had you cornered, and no one in that room was going to pull you out.
It’s only been a week since Baekjin’s funeral and already Seongje’s parading around like he inherited the ashes. He always had that streak, mean, spoiled, the kind of asshole who liked to gnaw on other people’s bruises just to see if they’d wince but Baekjin used to snap him back into place with a glance. Now there’s no Baekjin. Now there’s no leash.
And Seongje, he’s thriving in the rot. He’s louder, sharper, eyes too bright with that reptile gleam, always watching you like he’s measuring your soft spots. You’ve been trying to fade out, trying to scrape yourself from the crew like gum from a shoe because what’s the point without Baekjin? But the thing about Seongje is, he doesn’t let you drift. He has a way of drawing you in, curling his voice around your name like barbed wire, making everything feel like a dare.
It’s not that he wants your loyalty. Psychopaths don’t crave loyalty. He wants someone to see him bloom in Baekjin’s absence, to see the grotesque little empire he’s trying to build out of scraps. And right now, that someone seems to be you.
The air around him is always slightly off, like static before a lightning strike. He laughs at the wrong times, grins when he should look away. He keeps sidling too close, his words sticking under your skin long after he’s gone. You can feel the slow creep of it. Seongje becoming unavoidable.
Leaving your part-time job at the corner store at this hour was routine until Seongje started sniffing around. He always had some excuse, some sly half-smile explanation for why he just happened to be in the neighborhood. You tried switching shifts, begging for trades, but no one wanted the dead-eyed late-night closing slot. So you were stuck.
You swept the floors, stacked the shelves, counted the till with a knot in your gut, all the while wondering if he was out there. When you finally snapped the lock shut and stepped into the street, Seoul’s night pressed in heavy, the buzzing neon signs sputtering, alleys slouching in shadows, the faint hum of traffic like a threat you couldn’t place.
Walking home should have felt ordinary. It didn’t. Every stretch of dark pavement felt like it was baiting you. Your reflection in shop windows startled you, as if you weren’t expecting yourself. You couldn’t shake the idea that Seongje was behind you. His eyes, those feral, glassy eyes that never blinked enough, tracking the sway of your shoulders.
The night in Seoul was never quiet, but somehow it felt emptied out. Even the flickering street-lamps seemed to stutter. Each block you passed bled into the next. By the time you reached your building, nothing had happened. No shadows lunging, no sudden footsteps behind you. Just your own nerves chewing you raw. Still, the relief felt cheap.
The elevator, of course, was still dead and rusted out, a coffin with cables. Your landlord hadn’t lifted a finger in months. So you took the stairs, dragging yourself up each dim-lit flight, concrete echoing too loudly under your steps. Each turn of the stairwell felt like a blind spot, like something could be waiting just above, crouched and listening.
Finally, your floor. Your hallway smelled like damp plaster and old cigarettes. You dug out your keys, jammed them into the lock, and shouldered your way inside. The door shut behind you with a hollow thud. You set the keys down, tugged off your jacket, tried to breathe into the routine of it. Just your apartment. Just walls, just silence. You made for your room, already picturing the collapse onto your mattress when a voice cut through the stillness.
It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was low, conversational, like you’d walked in on someone waiting, patient as a spider. And it was Seongje’s. “Hey, babe.”
His voice slid through the air like it belonged there. Seongje was slouched on your couch, like a cat in someone else’s sunbeam, his glasses dangling from his hand. He tipped it toward you in a mock-toast, that smirk stretched across his face like a scar he was proud of. A lazy laugh leaked out of him, thin and cutting, before he leaned back, making himself comfortable, making himself home.
The sight stopped your blood cold. His shoes on your floor. His jacket tossed across your chair. His whole body radiating that smug violation, like this was his palace and you’d just stumbled in as the trespasser. “What the hell, Seongje? What the fuck are you doing in my house?” The words tore out of you, too loud, too desperate.
But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. That was the worst part, how much he liked it. How your fury, your fear, only fattened the grin on his face. He played with his glasses, taking his time, savoring your panic like it was the punchline to a private joke only he understood. He slipped his glasses back on, the gesture casual, almost delicate, before standing. The lenses caught the dim light, turning his eyes into flat coins as he started toward you.
“I missed you,” he said lightly, like he was confessing to a spilled drink. “And you’ve been avoiding me.” You stepped forward, heat rising in your chest, sick of him slinking around your life, sick of the smirk, the games, the way he thrived in the hollow space Baekjin left behind.
“Well, I don’t have a reason to be around anymore,” you snapped. “Since Baekjin is dead.” At the name, something flickered across his face not grief, not respect, but a spark of enjoyment. He tilted his head, the grin sharpening.
“Awww,” he crooned, voice thick with mock-sympathy. “I miss him too.” The way he said it was obscene, a parody of mourning. He let the words drip, savoring each syllable like poison. Then his gaze dragged over you, “He always had a soft spot for you, didn’t he?” His tone curled, somewhere between accusation and amusement, his eyes crawling your face, your body, like he was studying an artifact he intended to keep.
The room seemed to tilt, your apartment suddenly smaller, air clogged with his presence. He wasn’t just invading your space, he was digging into the wound Baekjin left, fingers pressing where it hurt most, smiling while he did it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you bit out. “I mean,” he started, his voice velvet laced with venom, “you could bat those pretty fucking eyes and Baekjin would’ve been on his knees for you.” A low chuckle slid out of him, hollow and sharp. His tongue flicked over the words like he was savoring them. “And I bet he fucked you good, huh? I bet that’s what you really miss about him.”
His eyes pinned you, unblinking, drinking in the flinch he knew was coming. “You’re such an asshole, Seongje. Get the fuck out of my house!” The scream cracked out of you, raw, louder than you meant, bouncing off your walls.
The blow came before the echo died. A violent snap, your head whipped sideways, pain flowering hot and instant across your cheek. The sound of it lingered, a sharp punctuation in the silence that followed. You staggered, hand rushing to your face, the skin already tender, already pulsing. Your palm came away trembling.
When your eyes found him again, he wasn’t smirking anymore. He was standing there, chest heaving, glasses catching the dim light, his expression twisted anger coiled so tightly it looked almost ecstatic. He closed the distance before you could think, before your body could decide whether to fight or run. His hands hit your shoulders hard, slamming you back into the wall. The plaster cracked, a dull thud echoing through your bones.
“You think you can just scream at me?” His voice was ragged and trembling with fury. His face was too close, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, breath hot with liquor. “You think you can push me out like I’m nothing?” His grip dug in, fingers bruising, shaking you as if he could rattle the denial out of your body. His eyes were wild lit up, deranged, but behind the fury there was something else, something worse a kind of rapture.
“I own you now,” he spat, the words breaking out. “Do you hear me? I fucking own you.” His forehead pressed against yours, sweat slick and trembling, his voice dropping to a rasp. “You don’t get it—I’d burn down the whole fucking city just to make sure no one can look at you.”
He pulled back just enough to see you, to watch the fear in your eyes, to drink it in like it was proof. His thumb brushed against your cheek, too gentle against the sting he’d left there. “Baekjin… he never deserved you. Only me.” His tone pitched higher, almost pleading now, almost boyish, as his fury tangled itself with obsession. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. You just don’t know it yet.” He pressed closer, breath hot against your ear, whispering like he was sharing a secret, “And I’ll make sure you know it.”
You couldn’t believe this was happening. This wasn’t the Seongje you knew the always circling but never striking Seongje. This was something feral, stripped of restraint, and it froze your blood. You didn’t want to be here, not in this apartment, not alone with him when he was like this. “Okay, Seongje,” you said, forcing your voice steady, pressing down the panic rising in your throat. “I understand. Why don’t we just… calm down and talk about this?”
You tried to peel his hands off you, but his grip only tightened, iron around your arms. His eyes burned too close to yours, the whites flashing wide, unhinged. “No, no, no.” His voice cracked, and a grotesque grin twisted across his face. “I have to show you. I have to prove I’m better than Baekjin.”
Whatever that meant, you didn’t want to find out. Desperation roared up. You jerked forward and slammed your head into his nose. The crunch was sickening, his glasses skewing sideways, blood blooming instantly. He staggered back, swearing, and you bolted, scrambling toward the front door. Your fingers barely brushed the knob before a weight crashed into your back. Seongje rammed you hard, slamming you against the wood, rattling the whole frame. The fight exploded.
You spun, shoving him, the fear making your limbs heavier, stronger. He stumbled back a step and you threw a fist, landing it against his jaw. For a second, shock flared in his eyes, and you almost believed you could win. But Seongje laughed. A deep, rasping laugh, blood running from his nose, teeth red. He wiped it with the back of his hand like war paint, then lunged.
His fist buried into your stomach, stealing your breath in one brutal shot. You folded, gasping, but he caught your hair, jerking you upright, dragging your face close to his. His breath was hot, metallic with blood. “See?” he panted, grinning, sweat and rage slick on his skin. “This is what Baekjin could never do. He could never break you.”
You clawed at him, nails raking his cheek, drawing red, but he only grinned wider, manic, delighted by the sting. He shoved you hard into the wall, the back of your skull rattling against plaster. Stars burst in your vision. You swung again, wild, catching him across the temple. He staggered, but instead of anger, it only seemed to electrify him further. He grabbed your wrist mid-swing, twisting it until pain screamed up your arm. With a sharp yank, he spun you, pinning you chest-first against the wall, his body crushing you in place. “You fight like hell,” he hissed in your ear, breath ragged with exertion. “And I fucking love it. But you can’t win. You’ll never win.”
His hand clamped over your mouth as your knees buckled, his other arm cinching around your waist, locking you in. He held you there, panting, trembling, but it wasn’t exhaustion, it was exhilaration. The fight had lit him up from the inside. “You’re mine,” he said again, voice breaking into something close to a plea. The words pressed into your skin heavier than his weight, a sentence you couldn’t shake. And even through the fear, the pain, the dizzying pressure of his hold. You knew this was only the beginning.
“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he whispered, the words grazing your ear like a knife sliding against skin too close, and impossible to ignore. You twisted, tried to slip free, but it was laughable, like a rabbit tugging at the jaws of a trap. His hand was already at your wrist, clamping down hard and he pulled, and your body went with it, light, useless, like I’d been hollowed out and strung up for him to parade around.
The hallway stretched before me in awful silence, your door at the end of it. Each step he forced out of me landed too loud, echoing like I was already in a place I wouldn’t be able to crawl back from. He didn’t look at me when he dragged me, not really his gaze kept skating over me, detached. And I could feel it, the calculation in him, the sterile, icy logic. He wasn’t pulling me because he wanted me to follow. He was pulling me because he wanted to prove that resistance meant nothing. The doorknob loomed up too fast, metal gleaming dull in the low light, and I had the sharp, drowning realization that there wasn’t a single step I’d taken on your own.
The door clicked shut behind us with a sound that didn’t belong in a bedroom. The air inside was stagnant, heavy, carrying the faint smell of dust and fabric softener normal things, but they clung in your throat like rot. Seongje let go of your wrist only when he wanted to. That was the point his grip, his release. your skin still tingled where his fingers had been, as if the blood there hadn’t yet realized it was allowed to move again.
He didn’t immediately come toward you. Instead, he leaned against the wall, folding his arms, watching you with that faint curl at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile. More like the prelude to one. His eyes roved as though he were reading a book he already knew the ending to.
“You always make it so difficult,” he said lightly, almost bored. “Like you think you’re better than me.” His tone wasn’t taunting, it was flat fact, the way someone might remind you that water makes ice. You didn’t answer. your body pressed back against the dresser, like maybe the wood behind you could swallow you whole. He tilted his head, studying you. “Do you know what I like about you?” A pause, long enough to make your heartbeat crash loud in your ears. “You keep trying. You scratch. You pull. Like you think there’s a version of this where you get out.” His voice sharpened, just barely, enough to slide under your skin. “That’s what makes it fun.”
He stepped forward then closing the distance inch by inch. Each movement deliberate, like he wanted you to see how little he needed to rush. The floorboards intensified his steps, you felt every one, reverberating like pressure in your chest. When he stopped, he didn’t touch you. He just stood close, so close that you had to fight the instinct to lean away, to breathe shallowly so you wouldn’t drag in the scent of him the clean, cold, metallic, like steel scent. His hand lifted, two fingers tracing the air just above your jaw without making contact, hovering like he wanted you to flinch before he even touched you. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Already bracing. Already calculating where to run. And you know what? It doesn’t matter. You’ll end up where I put you.”
He let the words hang, let them sink in, and then finally smiled. The smile of someone who’d already won, who was just waiting for you to realize it. The floorboard whined under his weight, a familiar complaint in the quiet of your room. He didn’t ask. He simply settled on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under him like something sinking. The space, which had been yours alone, was now his.
His eyes, flat and dark, landed on you. They weren’t windows to a soul. “Take your clothes off.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a flat, bored command. The words hung in the air, ugly and absolute. Your throat was dust. “Seongje, let’s not… let’s not do this. You know that.” A smile touched his lips, a thin one. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I know a lot of things.” He leaned forward, just a fraction, but it felt like a predator shifting its weight before the pounce. His voice dropped to a conversational murmur, the kind used for sharing a secret. “It wasn’t hard, you know. Making Baekjin’s death look like it was done by someone else. The angles. The mess. People see what they expect to see. They want a story, and I gave them a simple one.”
The world tilted. Your breath hitched, a sharp, stupid sound in the silent room. Your head snapped toward him, your vision tunneling until it was just his placid, empty face. “What did you just say?” The words were yours, but they sounded thin and reedy, a child’s protest. He watched you, his glasses sitting on the top of his nose utterly still. The smile was gone, erased. What was left was colder, more terrifying. His eyes seemed to drink the light from the room, leaving only a polished darkness.
“So,” he said, the single syllable soft, almost intimate. “If you know what’s good for you… you’ll stop talking. You’ll be quiet. And you’ll take your fucking clothes off.” The threat wasn’t in the volume. It was in the utter, serene certainty behind it. He wasn’t demanding. He was stating the next inevitable fact of your life.
The air wasn't air anymore. It was a solid, cold pressure, filling your lungs with something that felt like lead dust. Baekjin’s name hung in it, a ghost he’d conjured just to show you he owned it, owned the memory, owned the truth of what happened to him. Speech was a concept for other people, in other rooms. Your body understood the new rules before your mind could catch up. Survival was a animal thrum in your veins, a low-frequency hum that drowned out everything else. Do the thing. Get through the thing.
Your fingers went to the buttons of your shirt. They were stupid, treacherous things, all thumbs and shakes. Each button was a tiny, slick pearl of defiance, slipping against your damp fingertips. The sound of the pop-pop-pop was obscenely loud, a little death rattle for your dignity. The shirt fell open. The chill of the room hit your sternum, a shock that felt like a violation all its own.
He didn’t move. He just watched. His gaze was a physical weight, a slow, cold oil slick moving over your skin. There was hunger in it and lust. You bent, the motion awkward, your balance shot. The pants were next. You pushed them over your hips, the fabric whispering a betrayal as it slid down your legs. You had to step out, one foot and then the other, a clumsy, vulnerable dance. You left them in a puddle on the floor, a little heap of the person you were ten minutes ago.
And then you were just standing there. The space between your skin and the world had been reduced to two flimsy scraps of lace and cotton. Your bra, your panties. They felt like a joke. A pathetic, see-through lie of protection. Your arms didn’t know what to do. Cross them? Hang limp? Every possible position felt like an offering, an invitation for his flat, dark eyes to dissect. He hadn’t blinked. He was a monument to his own terrible patience, taking inventory of his new, trembling property. The silence was the worst part. It gave you nowhere to hide from the hammer of your own heart.
The sound was wrong. It wasn't applause; it was the dry, percussive crack of bone on bone. Three sharp claps that cut the thick silence of the room. Then a laugh, a short, airy exhalation that held no warmth and no humor. It was the sound a man makes when he confirms a particularly clever thought. "Okay, Seongje," he said, his own name a bland note on his tongue. As if he were observing his work from a distance and found it satisfactory. His eyes, those flat, dark pools, didn't leave you. They tracked the fine tremor in your hands, the shallow, rabbit-quick rise and fall of your chest beneath the pathetic lace.
"Take the rest off and crawl to me,” He didn't lean forward. He didn't stand. He shifted on the edge of the bed, a languid, almost lazy motion, and patted his thigh. The sound of his hand against the denim was soft, intimate, and utterly terrifying. The words were a silken trap. They weren't about desire. They were about reducing the space between you to nothing on your hands and knees. About making you navigate the terrain of your own floor, past the puddle of your discarded pants, to arrive at his feet. It was a test of obedience that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with ownership. He was establishing the gradient of power, and it was a steep, humiliating slope that ended at his feet.
He waited, his hand still resting on his thigh, his expression one of mild, patient curiosity. He was a scientist, and you were the fascinating, breaking thing in the lab. His command hung in the vacuum, a trapdoor open at your feet. Crawl to me. Your body was a traitor. It understood the grammar of survival better than your mind did. Your mind was still screaming, a high, white noise behind your eyes. But your limbs were already moving, operating on a primal frequency he had tuned them to.
You sank to your knees. The floorboards were rough and cold against your skin, a stark, gritty reality. The clasp of your bra was a complicated puzzle your fumbling fingers refused to solve. The tremor was a live wire under your skin. Finally, it gave way with a sigh of elastic and the bra joined the shirt on the floor, a small, sad heap of surrender.
Then you were moving. Each shift forward was a fresh humiliation, a lesson in your own powerlessness. The space between you stretched, a vast and awful distance. You kept your eyes down, fixed on the scuffs on the floor, the dust in the corner, anything but him. But you could feel his gaze. It was a physical pressure on the back of your neck, on the exposed line of your spine, on the vulnerable curve of your back. He was drinking it in, this pathetic procession.
You reached his shoes. Scuffed sneakers, the smell of street grit and wax. You stopped there, a supplicant at the altar of a cruel and silent god. You didn't look up. You couldn't. A beat of silence, thick and expectant. Then, a single finger, cold and dry, hooked under your chin. It wasn't a request. It was a tool, tilting your face up, forcing your eyes to meet his.
He was smiling. Not a real smile. It was a slight, curious tightening at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were black holes, absorbing your shame, your terror, every flicker of broken spirit. "Good," he said, the word a soft, dead thing. His thumb stroked your jawline, a mockery of a caress. It felt like being touched by a reptile. "You learn fast." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you, a shared secret. "Baekjin didn't."
His thumb, the one that had just praised your jawline, now traced the seam of your lips. It was a dry, possessive stroke, like a man checking the edge of a knife. His other hand went to his belt buckle, the rasp of the leather and the metallic click sounding like a gun cocking in the silent room. You knew. The animal part of your brain, the part that was screaming, knew exactly what was coming. Your throat tried to close preemptively, a spasm of pure revolt. He freed himself. Not with urgency, but with a chilling, methodical purpose. He held himself in his hand, not an object of desire, but an instrument. A proof of ownership.
"Open," he said. The word was flat. An instruction. Your jaw was locked. A tiny, pathetic rebellion. Your muscles were stone, welded shut by terror. He didn't get angry. He didn't force it. He just looked… mildly inconvenienced. A small sigh escaped him, a teacher disappointed by a slow student. He patted your head again, that same condescending, proprietary gesture.
Then his fingers were in your hair, fisting it, not with passion, but with a precise, brutal efficiency. He yanked your head back, arching your neck, exposing your throat. The pain was sharp and bright, a lightning bolt that forced a gasp from your lips. And in that gasp, he was there. He pushed himself into your mouth, a hard, unforgiving invasion. He filled the space, hitting the back of your throat, and you gagged instantly, tears springing to your eyes. The taste of him, salt and skin flooded your senses.
He held you there, his grip in your hair unrelenting, his hips perfectly still. He looked down at you, his head tilted, watching the tears track down your cheeks, watching your body struggle not to choke. "See?" he murmured, his voice conversational, almost gentle, as if explaining a complex theory. "This is how it is now. This is the new shape of you. My shape."
He gave a shallow thrust that made you gag again, your nails digging into your own palms. "Baekjin thought he could keep things the way they were," he said, his tone chillingly didactic. "He thought he owned things. He thought he owned you. Stupid." Another small, brutal push, deeper this time. Your vision swam. "But you're not stupid, are you? You understand property. You understand who holds ypur deed now." He finally began to move, a slow, grinding, mechanical rhythm, using your mouth without any regard for the sounds you made, the tears you shed. "Swallow it," he commanded, his voice losing its false gentleness, turning hard and cold as river stone. "Swallow all of it. This is the truth. This is all you get from me."
The rhythm was all wrong. It wasn't passion, it was a brutal, mechanical piston, a means to a single, selfish end. Your jaw ached with a raw, bone-deep throb, a protest against the violation. You felt the change in him, a coiling tension, a hitch in that awful, metronome rhythm. A primal, stupid part of your brain shrieked run. You tried to pull back, a feeble spasm of self-preservation. It was a mistake.
His hands, which had been resting with a deceptive idleness on your head, became vises. One tangled brutally in your hair, yanking your scalp hard. The other clamped the base of your skull, fingers digging into the tendons there, holding you immobile. He rose off the bed, using his height for leverage, for dominance, his own body a weapon to force yours into total submission.
There was no sound from him, no groan, just the harsh rasp of his breath through his nose. Then the hot, bitter flood hit the back of your throat, a violation so deep it triggered a gag reflex that went nowhere, strangled by his unrelenting grip. You convulsed, choking, tears streaming down your face as he held you there, ensuring every last drop was taken, swallowed. It was ownership, absolute and degrading.
When he was finished, he held you for a second longer, letting the reality of it all sink into your bones. Then his hands opened. He released you with the casual disinterest of a kid dropping a toy they are finished with. You collapsed backwards, coughing, gasping, strings of saliva and semen connecting your mouth to the floor. Your body heaved, trying to expel the taste of him, the feeling of him.
The thought comes to you first not as a word, but as a cold, flat fact This is not happening. The world was a muffled, gray thing. The floorboards were cool against your cheek. You’d sunk into them, willing yourself to become grain and nail, to disappear into the dust beneath the house. For a handful of seconds, you’d almost managed it. A small, stupid victory. Then, a pressure in your scalp. A sharp, bright wire of pain. His breathing was the only sound, a steady, even rhythm that was all wrong for the moment. He didn’t yank. He simply gathered a fistful of your hair and lifted. Your neck screamed a protest. The floor slid away beneath you, a nauseating blur.
He was all efficient. No wasted energy. He dragged you. Your heels scraped against the wood, a pathetic, scratching sound. Your bed. Your little safe space. Was about to be ruined. He looked at it, and a flicker of something crossed his face not a smile, but a subtle tightening of satisfaction, like a man solving a simple math equation. He threw you. It wasn’t a hard throw, but it was perfectly placed. You landed in the center of the comforter, the springs groaning beneath you. Before you could curl, before you could even gasp, his hand was on your hip. A single, brutal flip onto your back. He pinned you there not with his weight, but with his look. His eyes were dark behind those fucking stupid glasses.
He didn’t wait. There was no ceremony to it, no grand villain’s speech. It was just the next logical step in his process. A grunt, small and impersonal, as he pushed your panties to the side and slid into you. It was a violation so complete it felt less like a act of passion and more like a repossession. His hand found your neck. His fingers were long, cool. They didn’t squeeze, not yet. They settled. He was just stabilizing himself, finding a good grip. His thumb rested against the frantic bird-beat of your pulse. He could feel your life hammering against his skin. And he looked down at you, his head cocked just so, studying the effect.
A low, considering grunt escaped him. “You feel so fucking tight,” he murmured, the words full of heat. His hips pistoled with a brutal, efficient rhythm. His eyes were on your face, cataloging the way your breath hitched, the way your eyelids fluttered shut. He leaned down, his breath a cool whisper against your ear. “Baekjin didn’t fuck this pussy good enough, huh?” The name was a dart, aimed precisely. “He just… tapped at it. Played at it. Didn’t know how to make it give.”
He shifted his angle, a slight, cruel adjustment designed to steal the air from your lungs. His hand on your throat applied the faintest pressure. “I can feel it,” he whispered, his voice a dry, horrible intimacy. “Trying to lock me out. Useless. It just makes it worse for you. Tell me. Did he even make you bleed?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t want one. His free hand slid down, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh, holding you in place for his inspection. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” The command was soft, absolute. When you didn’t, his fingers tightened on your neck, just a fraction. A prompt. A correction. “I said, look.”
His gaze, when you met it, was empty of everything but a cold curiosity. He was studying you. Seeing what broke, what bent, what specific frequency of humiliation made you tremble. “There you are,” he said, almost to himself. “Now. You’re going to stay still. You’re going to take it. And you’re going to understand that this is what you need, you need me not baekjin.” The snap wasn’t a sound. It was a thing that happened behind your eyes, a white-hot fracture in the core of you. It wasn’t courage. It was a system overload, a final, desperate surge of current before the lights blew for good.
Your arm pistoled up, a clumsy, rage-driven thing. Your fist connected with the side of his face with a wet, satisfying crack. The shock of it reverberated up your arm. His glasses. Those stupid, big ass frames flew off his face and skittered across the floor, lenses-down. He fell back, a sharp, surprised grunt punching out of him. The connection between you broke. You were moving before your mind could catch up. A feral scramble off the bed, your legs like water, your heart a trapped animal beating against your ribs. The door. The door was everything. Your hand slapped the knob, twisted, yanked it open. You risked a glance over your shoulder. He was pushing himself up from the floor, movements sharp, furious, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. His glasses were gone, his face bloodied, eyes black with rage.
Your gaze snapped back to the door. The only way out. The only exit from this nightmare. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to run, because whatever came next you didn’t want to be here to find out. The front door. Locked. Your fingers, slick and stupid, fumbled. A sob ripped from your throat. Click. You tore it open, the hallway air hitting your naked skin like a cold shock. Freedom. You were halfway out, one foot on the welcome mat, the other on the cold wood.
Then, the world exploded into a constellation of white-hot pain. Something hard and precise connected with the back of your skull. Your vision star-bursted, then tunneled into black. Your legs vanished from under you. You crumpled, a puppet with its strings cut, your face scraping against the rough grit of the hallway. A shadow fell over you. He was breathing a little heavier now. You heard him click his tongue. “Oh my god,” his voice came out, not a yell, but a low, delighted chuckle. It was all wrong. It was the sound of a kid who just found a new, fascinating insect. “You are so much fun to play with.”
His hand closed on the back of your neck, not in your hair this time. A professional grip. He hauled you up like a sack of meat. Your head lolled, the world spinning nauseous. Your naked skin dragged across the threshold, back into the warm, sickly light of your home. You were kicking, a weak, thumping rhythm against his legs. A scream tore from your raw throat, a ragged, useless sound. “Help me! Somebody, please!” He kicked the door shut with a final, echoing thud. The lock engaged with a heavy, definitive click. He dropped you onto the floor in the hallway and stood over you, a silhouette blocking out the light. He tilted his head, massaging his jaw where you’d hit him.
“You hear that?” he said, his voice a mock-conspiratorial whisper. “Nothing. Not a single light came on. Not a single door opened. They’re all tucked in their beds, listening to their own TVs. They don’t want to get involved.” He knelt down, his face coming level with yours. His eyes, without the glasses, were darker, more depth less. A predator’s eyes. He smiled, a thin, cold curve of his lips.
“Screaming is a waste of energy. It just makes your throat hurt. Besides,” he said, reaching out and tracing a cold finger down your cheek, making you flinch violently, “this is so much more interesting when you fight back. It’s boring when they just lie there. It’s no fun to break a toy that’s already broken.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Let’s see what you do next.” He rose slowly, every inch deliberate, until his full height eclipsed you. His body loomed, blotting out the room like a shadow that had decided to step off the wall and become flesh.
Your body was twitching on the floor where he’d dropped you. The room tilted, edges blurred, but his shadow stayed sharp. He flexed his jaw where you’d struck him, and the grin that spread there was too wide, too full of pleasure. “You actually hit me,” he said, chuckling under his breath, the sound edged with disbelief and delight. “Baekjin’s little darling, swinging fists like she thinks she’s a soldier. God, you’re adorable when you think you matter.”
He crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, his hand shooting out to catch your chin, jerking your face up toward his. The force made your neck snap tight. His fingers dug in, hard enough that you felt the bruise before it bloomed. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve never been in control. Not with Baekjin holding your hand, not with anyone. The only thing you’re good at—” he leaned closer, lips brushing cruelly against your ear, “—is being something for men like me to sharpen our teeth on.”
You twisted against his grip, nails raking his wrist, but he only laughed. The sound cracked sharp in your ear. “Yeah, there it is. That fight. That’s why I don’t leave you alone. You’re not like the rest of them. You’ve got sparks. And sparks?” He slammed your head back against the floor, not hard enough to knock you out, but enough to rattle your skull and flood your eyes with stars. “Sparks are for burning.”
He released you suddenly, standing tall over you. “You hear that?” he hissed, glaring down at you, voice cutting with venom. “Nothing. No one gives a shit about you. Baekjin is gone, and without him, you’re just another mouth to shut up. And me?” He stomped down, his boot grazing your ribs, pressing down just enough to make you choke on air. “I’m the only one who wants you.”
Your scream ripped free, but it was hoarse, broken. Seongje tilted his head, his grin snapping back into place. “Keep screaming, sweetheart. All it does is prove you know I’m right. You’ve got nothing left but me.” He pressed down harder, and in his eyes you saw it clearly: he wasn’t angry anymore. He was exhilarated.
The fight didn't leave you in a rush. It seeped out, a slow leak from a fatal wound. The pain was no longer a series of sharp events. It was the whole world. A single, suffocating atmosphere of hurt. Your body was a foreign country, its borders violated, its landscape ruined. He didn't carry you to the bed. The floor was enough. The cold, unforgiving hardwood of your own hallway. It was a statement. You were not worth the ceremony of a mattress.
He knelt, a priest at a profane altar. His weight settled on you, not with frantic lust, but with a terrible, practiced certainty. This was ownership. Each movement was a punctuation mark in a sentence he was writing on your skin, in your flesh. Every thrust was a period, ending a possibility. Every low groan from his chest was a correction, erasing the person you were before tonight. You were a thing beneath him. A vessel for his absolute, quiet control.
His hand, the one that wasn't bracing him on the floor, came up and cupped your jaw. His thumb stroked your cheekbone. You tried to turn away, to hide in the last shred of privacy you had left, but his grip tightened, forcing you to look at him.
His face was calm. "See?" he whispered, his voice husky but perfectly clear, devoid of real passion. "This is better. Isn't it? When you stop fighting it even though I love the fight. It doesn't have to hurt this much. You make it hurt." The words were soft needles, slipped under your skin. You did this. Your struggle caused this pain. The guilt was a colder shock than the floor beneath your bare back.
He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. "You're so much prettier like this. Quiet. Accepting what you are." Then he moved his head, and his mouth found yours. It wasn't a kiss of desire. It was a seal. It was cold and knowing and utterly possessive. It tasted like him, like violence and a faint, metallic hint of your own blood from where his lip had split when you hit him. It was the taste of your own futile resistance.
That kiss was the last thing you knew before the darkness finally, mercifully, rushed in. A full-scale surrender of the senses. Your mind, unable to exist in the reality he was crafting, simply folded its maps and turned out the lights. You fell into the black, and the last thing you carried with you was not the pain, but the chilling, intimate gentleness of his mouth on yours, and the silent, echoing truth of his accusation.
