His property
Parings: dark! Geum seongje x female reader
Warnings: noncon, incel themes, unwanted relationship, jealousy, humiliation, belt whipping, slapping, choking, obsessive behaviour, unprotected sex, creampie, forced pregnancy.
Summary: Geum seongje doesn't ask. He takes.
Requested by anon
Taglist: @mirwors
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.
[♡]