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series masterlist • part one • next part
PRIME (part one)
🧬 Brought to you by @studiosvt's Cyberpunk: Reload Collab
Six years ago, you unknowingly changed the course of Arcadian Prime forever. Five years ago, you erased your own existence and went into hiding. And approximately one hour ago, the very first image of you—the city-state's most wanted fugitive—went online. Now… now, you run.
PAIRING: cyborg!jun x fem!reader
WC: 12.5k
TAGS: cyberpunk hello hehe, alternating povs, action, reader has a nickname, forced proximity? ish?, slowish burn, too long as per uzhe
CW: reader did a very bad and very stupid thing in the past and is trying to atone so if you can't handle the complexity of that... well!, AI antagonist, extreme govt surveillance, puppeteering, psychological torture, violence, blood, injuries, death, guns, knives, bombs, kidnapping, trafficking, cybernetics and mutilation (body horror adjacent), rebellion/war, propaganda, class divides, a lot of self-hatred on reader's part, a lot of lying by omission (also on reader's part), more warnings to come (go to series masterlist for complete list)
SMUT WARNINGS: smut in part three, warnings to come
A/N: this is part of @studiosvt's cyberpunk: reload collab! fun fact: i wrote 13K of this in the first week our members got assigned... i may be ill with the jun bug. idk. part two will be out next week. i'm gonna go try and stop thinking about this man until then. bye.
WEN JUNHUI, WEN JUNHUI, WEN JUNHUI. Your name is Wen Junhui. You're from Phlegethon. You loved people once. People loved you. Your name is Wen Junhui.
Junhui continues his silent mantra as he feels the first bits of consciousness creep back into his body after being Softlocked for nearly 16 hours. Sixteen hours of sedated darkness, nothing but him and his desperate attempts to hold onto himself since his captor doesn't care to make sure his mind goes to sleep alongside his body. His body, which hasn't been his in years. His eyes open on someone else's command, and he braces himself for the feeling of occupation.
Letheon Unit 004, the disjointed voice that haunts his existence calls to him, echoing against the walls of a brain he hardly uses anymore.
Junhui's limbs become heavy with the feeling of something that isn't even alive. It has a name, a voice, a will, and although it isn't material, it has a presence, spreading itself into every corner of his body and flexing his fingers and toes before stretching his neck each way. It isn't even alive. And still, this false god somehow rules his every waking moment.
Your name is Wen Junhui. The AI doesn't hear him. It never does.
Prepare for drop deployment to Morphae Zone, it announces, Ninety seconds.
His pod opens with a hiss, revealing the fuselage of an Aegis Dynamics skyvan. The cold, low whir of his body powering on follows shortly, preceding his exit from his Softlock chamber. Even though it's been years of fighting for control of himself—and years of failing miserably—he still instinctively tries to look around, annoyed when his head doesn't follow, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall.
Covert mission, the intruder says. What else would it be? Junhui is only ever woken up for "covert missions." Adult. Female. Eliminate on sight. A photograph materializes on his feed right next to his stats, overlaying his view and slightly obstructing his peripheral vision.
It's dark and she's speaking to a man whose back is turned to whatever camera the photo was lifted from—one that looks to be on the ground. Her eyes look up at him, wide with what Junhui thinks is surprise. Your name is Wen Junhui. You understand human emotions. No, it's awe. Maybe even hope. It's a feeling Junhui still tries to cling to, even though most days, he's not sure he remembers what it's supposed to feel like in the first place.
His target's face is obstructed from the mouth down, but he knows that's enough for the AI. It will force him to find whoever she is in minutes.
It speaks again. Threat level 5. Priority Index… loading. Junhui waits for the number that will tell him how important the fugitive his body is hunting is. If her threat level is maxed out, he expects her PI will match the urgency at Priority 1. It never comes. Priority Index… Prime.
If he could, he would frown. He's never received a deployment for someone whose PI wasn't a number. Before he can ponder on the word for too long, his body begins moving toward the jump point, allowing him to see he's alone in the fuselage. No team or partners for this one—even more covert than he's used to.
Junhui is positioned at the exit as the ramp begins to open for him. He knows the wind whips at his face violently from the roaring in his ears. But with Panoptes curling itself into every nerve in his body, he stays numb to it, unfeeling and unmoving.
Your name is Wen Junhui. Someday, you will feel it all again.
His body takes a single step, and the false god speaks.
Letheon Unit 004, ready for deployment.
TODAY IS EDEN'S DAY—THAT'S WHAT YOU CALL HER ANYWAY. Eden is a working class citizen who believes in the system and thinks that faith alone will reward her with a life in the upper echelon of Arcadian Prime one day. She wears clothes she thinks will make her look wealthier than she is, pretends not to work as hard as she has to, and goes to the market every day to peruse the stalls for focus patches, mood vials, and sound dampeners she would never be able to actually afford. She's your favorite disguise because she's lazy, unconcerned with the hegemony Aegis Dynamics lords over the city-state, and she walks slowly in an effort to look elegant and apathetic. And with the stress that's been burdening you and relentlessly compounding interest for the last five years, you welcome the change of pace that playing the role of Eden promises.
Back when you were making the tool that would eventually lead to the downfall of humanity, you named it Aurora—a pre-Prime goddess you once read about, famous for ushering in each new dawn. That's what you sincerely and naively thought your AI would be doing: ushering in a new dawn for the people of Arcadian Prime. A new age of peace, prosperity, and safety. Instead, you signed the death warrant on freedom as the city-state knew it and gave the elite class a false god to worship.
A faceless, soulless, meticulously trained false god.
In retrospect, your good intentions might have always been misguided. It's a parasite that gnaws on your conscience all day every day—your incomprehensible naivete, thinking this kind of technology wouldn't be immediately exploited. Because no matter how good your intentions had been, surveillance of Arcadian Prime's citizens was always the crux of your AI. Even before they bastardized your work, Aurora was meant to watch citizens through street cameras, computers, and phones, and paired with the census data Aegis Dynamics collected, it was built to compute and predict the likelihood of crimes before they even happened. You trusted Aegis to use it responsibly. You trusted that only those responsible for the relentless terrorist attacks that had been plaguing the Helio District would be assailed. You don't know what you were thinking.
That trust, along with your iteration of Aurora, died quickly. Aegis Dynamics debuted your AI as Panoptes instead, and you found out alongside the rest of Arcadian. In the blink of an eye, your own creation became something you would soon be running from for five years.
You've been in the Morphae Zone, hiding in plain sight for five years. It isn't as hard as the public is made to believe—avoiding Panoptes. Granted, your entire existence revolves around cycling through disguises and creating fake lives and routines like Eden's just to stay unseen, but as the pseudo-mother of the "all-seeing" AI, you know its blind spots. It admittedly has a lot.
At the time, you believed Aegis's lies without question. You wholeheartedly believed that the system was fair and that the rebels were senselessly violent—that even though Aegis had offered many peaceful solutions to their disagreements and conflicts, the rebellion was hellbent on bloodshed.
Thus, when you found the "solution," your propaganda-fueled bias against the rebellion informed almost all of Aurora's—now Panoptes's—habits. The solution focused on finding the criminals before their crimes were ever committed.
Panoptes pays special attention to the slums of the Phlegethon Zone and the outskirts of the Nyx Undergrid, where the black market thrives and most rebel fugitives live and operate. So after you deserted your station, you chose to hide in the Morphae Zone, home to Arcadian Prime's working class. Panoptes picks out people who have never been seen in a certain God Zone before. So you never wandered outside Morphae's zone lines. Panoptes zeros in on people who deviate from a recognized and well-documented routine. So every single day, you walk carefully mapped routes around your zone in several different disguises, making fake routines for people who don't exist. Like Eden.
With her neon pink wig, her lenses, and her scarf tied around your nose and mouth to feign protection from the smog, you walk around all the usual places you do when you're Eden on the weekend—the bank, the cafe, the market, and the park. And for the first time since you invented your third disguise years ago, Eden offers you zero solace.
In fact, the weird, tone-deaf lifestyle you shaped for her bites you in the ass today because it's too quiet. Even with all the chaotic sounds of machines grinding and people commuting and vendors shouting, it's silent.
You sit on a bench at the park, right under a street camera so Panoptes can see Eden clearly. You zone out, people-watching and pretending to be a woman who yearns to be happier and richer than anyone else in this wretched district. But after a few moments, your mind inevitably wanders to Seungcheol.
You finally heard from the rebel this morning after a month with no word and no assurance he was alive. You gave him the prototype you've been working on several weeks ago, and he assured you they had a plan to ambush a Letheon Unit and test it on the cyborg soldier. He told you he'd be in contact as soon as the test was over, otherwise he would meet you at your next regular check-in. The regular check-in that he missed. Twice.
The man always visited you at your apartment, never arriving even a second late. For the last month, as he continuously failed to show up, you hardly slept, waiting by your door and tensing at every small noise out in the hall. And for the last month, you've been convinced something had gone terribly wrong and that Seungcheol was dead.
It wouldn't have been surprising. You're not even sure it would've been devastating. Seungcheol, at most, is a stranger who shows up to your home once every two weeks, bosses you around, and occasionally spares you a grunt of satisfaction in place of a "thank you." You don't think either of you would consider the other a friend, though you know you don't have enough experience in that department to be sure. Still, the man and his missions—no matter how mysterious—were stitching together the gaping hole that Aegis Dynamics left in your soul.
You're wanted for desertion and treason for reasons completely different than why you actually feel like a traitor. Your hands singlehandedly built Panoptes. The system that oppresses Arcadian Prime is only in place because of you. And Seungcheol gave you a way to correct that grave and unforgivable mistake. He gave you purpose after your life's work had blown up in your face. You know he didn't completely trust you; after all, he always had his pulse gun on him and pointedly in plain sight whenever he came over. But whether or not he intended to, he was allowing you a chance to redeem yourself.
If Seungcheol died, so would your only connection to the rebellion and your hopes of being remembered as someone other than the revolting idiot who essentially turned an entire city-state into an open-air prison. And if Seungcheol died, you'd never see that prototype you entrusted him with ever again, making the last five years you've been working on it a complete waste.
The thought makes your stomach turn even though you've already received signs of life from the man.
You get up from the bench as soon as Eden's routine allows it, walking to the subway to catch the next train to your neighborhood. You easily blend into the crowds and pocket your disguise in exchange for a nondescript hoodie and mask without missing a step, knowing every corner to turn your head away from a camera.
By the time you enter your apartment, the sun is just starting to set, marking an hour until you're due at a rendezvous point you've never been to. You change from Eden's kitten heels into your boots, not daring to go barefoot in your own home—a luxury you've long forgiven yourself for abandoning. You value being able to get away quickly over having clean floors.
And the way you live reflects that sentiment. You have minimal furniture to make sure nothing will get in your way if you have to escape or, god forbid, fight. You always use the rebel-made scanner Seungcheol left you to look for listening bugs in case someone broke in and planted something while you were gone. Even though you own a neural gun, a pre-Prime pistol, and a pulse rifle—all of which would honestly be little to no help if you had to face a Lethe—you keep knives hidden all over the apartment in case you need them.
At first, living with this level of paranoia drove you crazy—crazy enough that you sometimes wondered if living was even worth it if it meant being riddled with this guilt and fear. But it's become second nature to you, and at this point, you're not sure you'd know how to live any other way.
When you're done sweeping your apartment and ensuring everything is safe and accounted for, you put Eden's things away in the drawer that hides all your other disguises, taking note of whose turn it will be tomorrow. Then, you shove a chair underneath the front door knob and retreat into your room, sliding the two deadbolts you installed yourself into place. You rest your pulse rifle next to the door, and keep the other two guns in the bathroom with you as you start to scrub Eden's makeup off your face.
The silence gives way for more anxious thoughts. Seungcheol has never asked you to meet him outside your home, and this rendezvous point is at the edge of Morphae that's closest to where he lives in the Nyx Undergrid. Is he hurt? Can he not travel to the heart of your zone? What if it isn't even him, but a member of his crew doing you the favor of letting you know he's dead?
You start listing the worst case scenarios.
Seungcheol and his crew jumping a Lethe they didn't realize was accompanied by other military cyborgs and being too outnumbered to stand a chance. Seungcheol and his crew tricking Panoptes into predicting an imminent crime and sending more Lethes than they were prepared for. Seungcheol and his crew doing everything right and everything going the way it was supposed to… just for your prototype to fail miserably.
Every scenario ends one of two ways. Seungcheol and his crew are killed—the merciful way out. Or Seungcheol and his crew are arrested. Having worked for Aegis at a high enough clearance, you know there is no prison in the city. Everyone guilty of a crime—predicted or otherwise—is promptly turned into a Lethe. It makes you want to vomit thinking of Seungcheol as a Letheon Unit being deployed to capture or kill his own rebels.
You step out of your bathroom, defeated and resigned to the fact that you may not be meeting Seungcheol at all tonight. After dressing in dark clothes, impatiently shoving your hair into a platinum blonde wig, and doing another sweep of your apartment, you head right back out, armed with your neural gun and all the knives you can carry on your body.
The request to meet was delivered this morning via light, by the lamp post outside your kitchen window before the sun was even up.
Seungcheol never told you how he found you. He just showed up at your door one day, already well-aware of who you were and your history. It put you into fight or flight, but even with the extensive (and often brutal) combat training you received while you were at Aegis Dynamics, Seungcheol had you pressed face down into your own floor in seconds. He didn't kill you or turn you over to Aegis like you thought he would; instead, he demanded your skillset.
It's either you help us, he told you while he still had his knee pressed roughly into the middle of your back, or you get a pulse round to the brain. The man had the nerve to press his weapon to your head, a low mechanical whine vibrating against your skull as he primed the gun, readying it to pull the trigger.
You didn't have much of a choice.
He left right after securing your agreement, and when he returned the next night, he did a complete sweep of your apartment—again, without telling you what he was doing. Sometime in between turning your furniture every which way and scanning your walls with an unrecognizable device you'd later learn was looking for listening bugs, he stopped right next to your kitchen window, pulling the curtain back with a single knuckle.
Why isn't this street light on? he asked, nodding at the post right outside your window—the only dark one on your street. His contemplative frown deepened as you explained it's hadn't lit up once since you moved in. He turned away from you and all he said was: You should probably pay attention to that.
You had scoffed and disregarded the comment, asking him in irritation how a criminal wanted for treason was supposed to get the city to fix a street light. He ignored you, as he so often did.
You're thankful for his secretive and bizarre behavior because it was the only reason you remembered that small, trivial moment. It was the only reason that you saw words where anyone else would only see a dying, flickering light.
It started with a soft and tinny noise—the buzzing that accompanies dying electricity. You couldn't see much beyond the sliver of glass that wasn't covered by the curtain. Really, the only thing you could see were flashes of warm yellow.
You pulled back the fabric, dumbfounded when you found the lamp post outside your window flickering. You had scrambled for your noteslate from where you had been trying to eat breakfast, quickly tapping letters on the glass as you translated the code. When Seungcheol first made you learn all sorts of rebel intelligence, you were resistant; you didn't want to jump from one group to another so quickly, and learning about their sequential code, the locations of Morphae safe houses, and emergency ammo stashes around the zone felt a lot like putting your allegiance behind another group before you were ready to. But when the lamp post flickered to life, you were glad he forced you to learn.
MORPHAE ZONE NORTH LIMIT COME ARMED
The light flashed the code over and over again, allowing you more than enough time to make sure you had the message right.
The northern limit is the only defunct checkpoint in Morphae. If anyone wanted to travel between God Zones, they had to visit one of the other three checkpoints since a few years ago, the northern limit went dark. The news said it was a gas leak. You managed to get Seungcheol to admit it was the product of a coordinated attack from their side. And although he never explained further than that, whatever it was was large enough that Aegis never bothered bringing the checkpoint back online.
You only understand that decision when after more than an hour of taking needlessly long ways to avoid Panoptes, the checkpoint comes into view. You're still at least a mile away from the actual border, but the devastation is unfathomable.
Of course, you've seen photos of the checkpoint before, but it feels impossible to match them to this place. The land is barren, cratered, and charred, littered with the remnants of buildings, cars, and what you imagine are countless bodies—human and Lethe alike. Morphae has been harboring its very own war zone and you didn't even know.
"Crazy, isn't it?" Seungcheol sidles up next to you, staring at the ruins in apathy. You struggle to keep the relief you feel hearing his voice from breaching the surface.
"I don't know how I can still be so in the dark," you mutter, shaking your head. "I worked for them. I know how they are. And I didn't even know."
"You knew enough to annoy the shit out of me until I told you what happened."
You grunt, dissatisfied with that. Even then, you couldn't get Seungcheol to tell you the whole story. "Glad you're alive," you say, forcing yourself to turn away from the checkpoint and to Seungcheol. You can't help the loud gasp that you breathe.
"It's not as bad as it looks."
It's probably worse. Both of Seungcheol's eyes are bruised a deep blotchy purple, his lip is split open, he stands like he's nursing a few cracked ribs, and if you're not mistaken, there's a strip of bright blue nanoglue at his hairline, keeping what looks like used to be a deep gash together.
"What the fuck happened?" you ask through your hands as they cover your mouth in horror.
He winces, jerking his head toward a darker corner. "Let's get out of the open first."
Your suspicions are confirmed as soon as he starts walking, leading you down the street. He keeps slightly bent to one side like standing straight will hurt his ribs, and he has a slight limp in his left leg. It's clear why he needed you to meet him this far out; sneaking all the way to your apartment would've taken him all night.
He walks slow, so you do too, giving him an excuse to keep his pace. And just like you expect a man like him to, Seungcheol huffs as he hides his hobble ahead of you.
"Hurry up," he calls over his shoulder. "I don't have all night."
"You look like you don't have five minutes," you murmur, keeping your same, slow pace. "Really, you look like you should be under the ground."
"Thanks," he scoffs. You hum but don't say anything else, forcing yourself to look away and study your surroundings instead of asking the barrage of questions you have.
You don't find much, which, in and of itself, is a lot. No street cameras, no people, no Lethes patrolling every corner—it's unheard of in Arcadian Prime. You hate that you find an awful place like this peaceful. There are very few places in the city-state that aren't under the careful watch of Panoptes, and it's ironic that they're usually overabundant in death rather than life.
Every few yards, you come across Lethe parts. You reckon if indefensible mistakes were still something you were making a habit of committing, it would be easy to collect all of the scraps and build your own cyborg soldier. Instead, you just feel sad, bearing witness to deaths the rest of Arcadian Prime doesn't even know about. These Letheon Units' cybernetic bodies were of so little importance to the people who mutilated them in the first place, they were just left here to rust in this wasteland. Metal arms, legs, cannons, and wiring—you even come across a fully intact head, eyes open to reveal one empty socket and one translucent iris, dull without the light of Panoptes inside fueling her as she lifelessly stares past Morphae for miles.
She must have been your age, maybe even younger. You wonder where she was taken from—maybe Phlegethon. Probably Phlegethon. It's easy to get away with what Aegis Dynamics does when the people who care about their victims' well-being have no resources to find them. And no one has less than the people who live in those slums.
You don't realize you've stopped to look at the nameless Lethe until Seungcheol whistles sharply at you to keep you moving. You hesitate for a moment more, looking around at the graveyard surrounding you. This is your fault, you remind yourself. These Lethes—these people are dead because of you.
It's easy to pretend Letheon Units are nothing more than robots when you're fighting one off, but seeing one like this—powered off, disjointed from the once human body she had—is a morbid reminder that every Lethe became one against their will. And every Lethe became one at the hands of your creation.
After a few more moments, Seungcheol whistles again. You turn over your shoulder, in the direction of the dead Lethe's gaze, to find the rebel in the shadows of a dark alley, where you see he left a friend. He's a smaller man but just as physically fit, the shape of his muscles easy to discern through his top. When you reach the two of them, he nods at Seungcheol and says, "We're clear."
The man gives him one of his famous "thank you" grunts.
"Chan, this is my contact," he says gruffly. "… contact, this is Chan."
You roll your eyes but don't bother offering your real name either, giving him the name of the current disguise you're wearing. "Hi. Eris."
Chan nods at you once, smiling widely. "Eris. You made the prototype."
"Yes. Where is that, by the way?"
You're either ignored or unheard as Chan excitedly speaks over you. "You're a legend. When we topple this hellhole, you're going to go down in history. Eris, savior of Arcadian Prime!" The words immediately make you recoil. "That was insane. We—"
"Anyway," Seungcheol cuts in, and even without raising his voice, his comrade's mouth immediately clamps shut. "If you haven't gathered… it worked."
You frown at him. "Sorry… what…?"
The rebel jerks his head at Chan, who understands whatever that means and immediately leaves the two you, walking to the west with the purpose of someone who was given a task.
"I had one of my guys convince a lower level runner to rob a bank," Seungcheol tells you. "Helped him legitimately plan it out and everything, and of course, your handy, little buddy figured it out."
You hate it when he does that—when he trivializes your past and makes light of it like your mistakes didn't turn out to be some of the worst crimes against humanity. It's something you've never even talked about out loud; you never needed to with Seungcheol since he just knew from the start. You certainly wouldn't joke about Aurora—Panoptes being your "buddy."
"How many?" you ask, ignoring the comment.
"Just one," he answers, looking proud of that. "The crime was small enough and being planned by a first-time offender that they sent a single Letheon Unit to make the predictive arrest. Put up quite the fight… obviously." Seungcheol is very clearly annoyed by that fact. You nod, eyes sweeping his injuries again. "I attached the tool to my neural gun, aimed, and shot, and… it worked."
"It… worked," you repeat dumbly.
He nodded, his lip turning up into a pained grimace. It's the closest he's ever gotten to smiling at you.
"It separated the Lethe from the AI immediately," he informs you as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out his neural gun with your prototype attached to the top. "Seemed to cause the guy a whole lot of pain, but… he's doing well now."
You balk at him. "He survived?"
It isn't like you gave Seungcheol the gun attachment expecting that it would kill a Lethe. You just weren't sure how much of the soldiers' survival depended on Panoptes after being taken apart and stitched back together with machine parts countless times. For all you knew, they relied 100% on AI power and would drop dead once the connection was severed. To hear the first Lethe they tried this on is not only surviving but doing well inspires dangerous feelings. Feelings you haven't met in years.
Seungcheol's face seems to soften at whatever is happening on your own, and his lips form an actual, albeit tiny, smile. You realize for the first time he has dimples.
He nods, unclipping the attachment from his gun and turning it over in his hand. He looks down at it like it's the most important thing he'll ever hold. It worked, so it very much might be.
"Yup," he says, laughing a little like he's also still disbelieving this worked. "He's alive. The crew's setting him up down in Nyx and preparing to return with him to Phlegethon soon, once we're sure he's okay and well-adjusted."
The dangerous feelings unfurl at a faster, more concerning rate inside your chest, and before you can even try to stop it, tears have begun forming on your lower waterline.
"He's… he's going to go home…?" you ask, voice hardly above a whisper at the risk of it cracking.
Seungcheol pockets his neural gun and winces. "Not quite. He'll have to stay in Nyx for the time being. I imagine an offline Lethe is bound to draw attention. He's a rig."
He uses the term most citizens use to call a Letheon Unit whose body is very obviously fused with cybernetics. There are very few Lethes these days that can pass as human—skins. Aegis seems to have gotten into a rhythm of efficient mutilation. If it's obvious he's a cyborg, the Nyx Undergrid is the only place he'll ever be safe while Aegis is in power; it's the only place safe from Panoptes.
"He has loved ones in the slums—well… a loved one. He wants to get her out of Phlegethon and to Nyx with him so we're going to help."
"And Panoptes?"
He shakes his head. "We waited to see if they would come after him—see something in the data that told them their Lethe's connection had been severed. No one came. We theorized severance reads as death on their end. It works, Eris." He says the name with a smirk, playing along with your ruse even though he knows your actual name. "No kinks, no issues. It works."
The first of your tears begin to fall, and you wipe at your face almost violently; you're angry at this reaction. You of all people don't get the privilege of crying. You don't get to feel like you've done something good—not when you're just fixing the atrocious mess you made. Your hands created abominations that later became the heart of Aegis's oppressive rule.
Seungcheol and his team are the ones doing good. They've been on the right side, and they've been doing good from the very beginning. When this is all over, it will be because of people like Seungcheol and his friends. Not you.
You. Don't. Get. To. Cry.
"Here," he says softly, doing you the mercy of ignoring your tears and giving you back your prototype.
You hold it pathetically in an open palm, like a child given something they don't know what to do with. You stare down at it dumbly. Seungcheol first came to you with the request that you do something about the Letheon Units, and for the last five years, that's what you've worked on. And after several failed versions that you were too ashamed to even pass on to him to test, you finally landed on it: the one good thing you've ever made. The one chance you have to make it right and truly repent. It feels so heavy in your hold.
"I don't know if you ever named it. A guy on our team took to calling it Anima."
You repeat the word without looking away from the attachment.
"Something about soul and life or breath or something," Seungcheol says, clearly uninterested in why the word was chosen. When you don't say anything else, he sighs. "Despite your innate need to punish yourself… you did a good job."
Your gaze snaps up to him and as predicted, he looks uncomfortable, looking over your head instead of meeting your eyes. It's how you know he's being sincere. You don't thank him because you know you don't get to accept praise for this either.
Instead, you ask, "What now?"
"Now, the real work begins," he says. "We're going to need to arm as many rebels with Anima as we can. We need you to make more… a lot more."
Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you finally say, "I… that would take months." And that's a generous estimate. Realistically, making enough of these attachments to supply all of the rebel neural guns in Nyx would take nearly a year even with all the proper materials at your disposal. Without that, it could take… several years. "It already took a long time making this one because I had to scrounge for parts, wait weeks between buying tools to keep from attracting attention… without a lab or the supplies, I—"
"That's why we're relocating you to Nyx."
You leave your mouth open even though words stop coming out of it. He doesn't expand on the thought, so you're forced to ask, "What?"
"We're relocating you to Nyx."
"Who is 'we'?"
He levels you with a flat look.
"But why?" you ask, frowning.
It's not like you're particularly attached to your apartment or Morphae or the handful of lives you pretend to have while there. You're not even particularly worried about Panoptes now that you actually know someone in Nyx who could offer you protection. Still, you find yourself afraid to agree.
"For all the reasons you just said?" he says like you're dumb. "We've already found you a living space and have outfitted our headquarters with a lab for you. We get shipments of supplies every month and the black market is literally right outside our door for everything else you need that we don't have." He raises a thick eyebrow at you, challenging you to argue with him when he says, "It's the only reasonable answer."
"But…" The word naturally comes out even though you have no rebuttal. Up until now, you've tiptoed the line between runaway fugitive and outright rebel. This would be a clear decision, and Seungcheol recognizes that.
"You made your decision a long time ago," he informs you. "The moment you agreed to help, you joined us. Whether or not you thought so doesn't matter—you've been one of us for five years."
Your mouth twitches and you shift your weight uncomfortably. The last time you belonged to a group, it ended in the worst possible way. You wouldn't be able to stand doing that a second time. You don't know that you trust yourself to not be a follower anymore.
"I didn't have much of a choice," you mutter, shooting him a look. "It was either help you or get a pulse round to the brain, remember?"
He nods. "And it's the same now. I won't hesitate to threaten violence on you again if you won't help us. Too much and too many lives depend on it." You inhale sharply. Lives depend on your help. Lives depend on you undoing your work with Aegis.
"So this is still the illusion of choice."
"Pretty much," he admits shamelessly. "The only difference now is I trust that I won't have to make threats this time. The difference now is… I trust you." You stare hard at him, and this time, he looks right back, unafraid to lay his honesty bare for you to see. "I trust you… here… as you are tonight, regardless of anything you did five years ago." He pauses like he knows the gravity of his words. "I'm going to need you to trust yourself now too. You've given us Anima, and it's breathing new hope into the fight. I need you to trust that you can do this. I need you to have some hope."
You look down at the prototype, and you can already see all the things you know you can do better with more support. And with that, no matter how hard you try not to, you see a future without a cyborg military. You see a future without Aegis or Panoptes or God Zones that segregate citizens by class. You see a future where there's a chance you can stop hating yourself. You hope for that future.
You nod. "Okay, fine. You can stop begging. It's embarrassing. When do I move in?"
Seungcheol snorts. "Get your things together as soon as you get back. I'll have Chan and one of our other runners at your door just before dusk tomorrow. Keep an eye on the lamp post."
You know why he chose that time; Morphae is bustling with so many people finishing work or heading to their night shifts, it will be harder for Panoptes to spot someone who doesn't belong there.
You straighten at that. "How did you do that? Light it up again?"
He stares at you hard like he's thinking something over. It isn't until later on, several minutes after you part, that you realize it was a point of no return for him too—choosing to fully trust you or not.
In the end, he says, "I have someone at Aegis who's able to access city works and maintenance. I'm not answering anything else so get lost. I'll see you tomorrow."
LETHEON UNIT 004 SUCCESSFUL LANDING AT DROP POINT, the voice in Junhui's head announces as soon as the dust around him clears—to whom, he still doesn't know after all this time. He just wishes it would shut up and leave him out of the conversation. Target's last seen location: 350 feet south.
With that, his legs move on their own, walking quietly through what he recognizes is the edge of Morphae's northern limit—the site of a battle he unwillingly fought some time ago. It's hard for him to keep track of the days sometimes. All he knows is he had been Softlocked for more than a week at the time, driving himself crazy, all alone in his thoughts as his body slept without him.
When he was finally awoken, he was still in the Delphic Sector, the rest of the Letheon Units around him remaining Softlocked in their pods. The mission briefing was straightforward: accompany an Aegis executive to Morphae's northern checkpoint. It was the Aegis official's understanding that Junhui was meant to protect him at all cost; that was not the case.
Iasus was kept in a briefcase that the Aegis executive kept close to his body at all times. Junhui stayed nearby, eyes never straying from the man. They boarded the military van, made the drive to Morphae several zones over, and arrived at the northern checkpoint, which had been completely cleared of civilians. Junhui's body followed the man to a large modular tent with several staffers and computers assembled inside.
He stuck next to the man and Iasus for the next two days, inadvertently learning about why they were all there. And even now, as he walks through the ruins of what used to be that checkpoint, Junhui doesn't think he's ever wished for autonomy of his body more than he did during those moments.
Iasus, he learned, was the man's brainchild—a new software that, if successful during this trial run, would be added to Panoptes's next update. The briefcase Junhui was guarding had just a single keyboard inside with a hologram of code that would appear every time the executive entered his passcode. That code made it possible for Aegis to use advanced sonar and seismic technology to get a rough layout of the land, easily producing estimations of the population, locations of buildings, and more without Panoptes ever tapping a single camera to do it.
Iasus would've been able to do this across 30 miles. The Nyx Undergrid, which sat right in between the northern limit of Morphae and the southern limit of Phlegethon, only took up an approximate 10 mile radius on Arcadian Prime's map.
Nyx was the one place Panoptes couldn't reach, mainly because it isn't even a God Zone. It's a phantom city the rebels built, their attempt at carving out their own sanctuary in the once unlivable deserts between Morphae and Phlegethon. No cameras or Aegis authority meant no Panoptes, and with it being the rebellion's home base, there was no way for Aegis to invade it without very publicly starting a war—a war they insisted was not happening in Arcadian Prime at all. In other words, it was the one place in the entire city-state that was safe, and it was the one place Aegis Dynamics would do anything to seize.
There are a lot of things Junhui wanted to do upon learning why he was there to protect Iasus—setting the suitcase aflame and killing the executive both ranking high on that list. But realistically, he knew there was little that one Letheon Unit like him would be able to do even if he had his autonomy.
Junhui wouldn't get very far after killing the official and destroying the prototype before he was riddled with bullet holes, at which point they would just remake the thing. He could sneak away and try to warn the rebels he knew were hiding in the undercity, but he, again, wouldn't get very far without Panoptes spotting—and stopping—him. And thinking about all of it was futile because he didn't have his autonomy. He couldn't even move his eyes away from Iasus long enough to survey his surroundings.
So he watched as Iasus was tested on Morphae, correctly mapping out the zone through its sonar pings and manufactured earthquakes so small, no one outside of the checkpoint would be able to feel them. After enough satisfying results, it was decided—on their fifth morning there, they would finally attempt to read Nyx from the checkpoint.
On the fourth evening, after Junhui's executive had already retired to bed and left him in the tent with Iasus, the ground jolted so violently, not even Panoptes could keep him upright. He hit the ground and knew immediately someone had shot him with a neural gun. Panoptes's voice became warped with static until it faded to nothing, and his system flashed warning lights on his display. It lasted longer than he was used to—so long, he'd started to get used to the stinging and crackling in his nerves and the ringing in his ears. He'd of course, later realize he hadn't been shot, but that Aegis had been hit with its very first neural bomb.
As the ground around him continued to rock and the sounds of screams and gunfire and buildings coming down assaulted his eardrums, for the first time since he was captured, Junhui felt everything. He could feel the dust as it fell on his skin, the tables and computers in the tent coming down around him, Iasus sliding across the table and catching him square in the chest, knocking the breath right out of him.
And as his fingers reflexively tightened around the edges of the briefcase, he realized he was in control of his own body. So he moved. He didn't know how to do anything other than crawl, so he crawled. Away from the tent and the bodies of the executive and all his employees. Away from the general direction of the Nyx Undergrid and away from his imprisonment. Until a rebel found him.
"Take it" was all Junhui could say, voice brittle and trembling as he felt the effects of the neural blast fading. "Use it."
The last bomb had gone off, and within the next minute, Panoptes had an iron fist around his existence once more. But both the rebel and Iasus were long gone, and the AI was too overwhelmed with the onslaught of returning data to understand what happened.
What happened was Junhui found renewed hope. As he marches through the charred remains of Morphae's northern limit now, he remembers exactly what it felt like for his body to be his body again, and it's enough for him to endure this existence for another day. All he needs is to hold onto his name and his will for another day.
Wen Junhui, Wen Junhui, Wen Junhui. Your name is Wen Junhui, and you can hold onto hope.
His body comes to an abrupt stop, his chin tilting down until his gaze finds the discarded head of a female Letheon Unit. His soul shudders.
Letheon Unit 192301, Panoptes recites. Importing emergency protocol recording.
Junhui's display shows him the last moments the Letheon Unit recorded before complete battery depletion. His target, a handful of feet away, speaking to a man whose back is turned to the camera. The photograph he'd been delivered when he was first woken up.
Recording taken 24 minutes ago.
Nearly 30 minutes. More than enough time for what is very much likely a rebel to get away and start the trek back to Nyx—at least he sorely hopes so. His sight switches into thermal mode, head whipping around to catch any kind of heat signature that will show him if his target is still nearby. When it doesn't, it switches back. He walks to the area the two figures had been recorded speaking, his body very clearly looking for footprints as his eyes scan the dirt. His heart sinks when it zeros in on a single half print, small enough to be a woman's and it's pointing back into Morphae, not Nyx.
Junhui's body is moving in the same direction immediately, leaving him no time to process anything else about his surroundings. Panoptes easily maps the route with the least camera coverage, narrowing the target's path down to only two if she has any intentions of leaving the checkpoint at all.
His display highlights the routes, and he knows he'll be fighting in a matter of minutes—fighting both a rebel and his own body—because Panoptes finds a single point on the routes that intersect, guaranteeing a run-in.
Junhui's body sprints as Panoptes runs equations about where the rebel could be, and every scenario it runs places her before the intersection.
You are Wen Junhui, he recites as he descends on the point, and the crimes you've committed and will commit are not your own.
His scope zeros in on movement coming from the eastern route just as the system notifies him he's arriving at the coordinates: the on-ramp of an abandoned overpass, collapsed from one of the several neural bombs that hit this checkpoint when he was guarding Iasus.
His body slides, dust rising as it stops right in the middle of the intersecting point. Right in front of you, cutting you off from your escape.
To your credit, you don't scream or startle. You simply freeze, eyes quickly scanning Junhui's frame with a speed that only a Prime priority target would know to.
It's you!
Junhui frowns at the unusual commentary from the AI. His mouth opens next. His own voice says a name he wasn't given during his briefing and is unfamiliar with. You show no signs of recognizing it, but his display reads your heartbeat, which spikes at the mention.
"You are to return home at once," he says, his confusion multiplying. The instruction wasn't to bring you home. The instruction was to murder you on sight.
"Home?" you ask, a level of incredulity in your voice. Your hands fidget in the pocket of your hoodie, and Junhui's fist instinctively reaches out toward you, a panel on his wrist lifting just enough to reveal a small but efficient hardlight shooter aimed right at your chest. His cybernetic arm immediately powers on and charges as it prepares to shoot. You freeze once more.
You seem to know what will come out of Junhui's arm if he does shoot. The weapon emits momentarily solidified light, and a single shot aimed at the right place could cut your head clean off.
"Show me your hands." Your hands stay where they are, hidden within your clothing. "Show me your hands or I will shoot."
Junhui should've shot by now, frankly. He doesn't complain, though, hoping the AI has finally glitched and that you'll find your way out of this. If your PI is this high, he thinks you might be able to. Whoever you are, you're more important than even Iasus was, and if Aegis wants you dead, Junhui knows it's imperative you live.
"Why haven't you already?" you ask the question you're both wondering, raising an eyebrow like you're speaking to a friend. Like you're amused. The only indication you're even the least bit nervous are the vitals Junhui's display reads. Your body temperature is rising and your heart races faster by the second, but on the surface, you haven't cracked at all.
He repeats your name. "You are to return to Aegis Dynamics," Panoptes corrects its own wording.
You narrow your eyes. "Aegis Dynamics isn't home."
"You are to return."
"And if I don't?"
Junhui is eager for the answer too. In the years he's been trapped with the false god, he has never witnessed this sort of behavior from it. His voice is hardly ever even utilized at all. He's baffled as he feels his captor processing and buffering… almost like it's thinking.
For the first time since becoming a Letheon Unit, his own reflexes kick in before the AI's, his brain signaling his legs to move. They, of course, don't, and he's hit with a neural wave, dropping him to the ground after a few moments of resisting the disorientation.
Y-you—a-a—home—h—retu-tu—
Junhui wants to cringe as Panoptes's voice turns into a high-pitched whine, an ugly dissonance against the static the neural gun delivered. His eyes are squeezed shut but somewhere in his human mind, he can register you walking closer to him.
What is she doing? he thinks, annoyed. Run!
A string of unsaid curses rings through his head when you don't. Through the static, he can make out a click followed by the sound of your neural gun starting up again, and it seems that Panoptes does too. Even though his system is still struggling to come back online, the AI snaps out of its stunned state, and Junhui's body is moving before his eyes are even opening.
A surprised yelp escapes your mouth as he rises to his feet, one arm sweeping to shove the hand holding your gun away, the other palm meeting your chest and sending you flying back several feet toward the overpass. You land on your back, rolling backward immediately until you're upright again. He expects you to run the direction he sent you flying—you should run in the direction he sent you flying. For some infuriating reason, you still refuse to, and you remain crouched down on the ground where you landed.
You point your neural gun at him, and the display fails to alert him to something he notices before Panoptes does again—there's an attachment on the gun that wasn't there before. It glows a bright pink as it powers up, but when you shoot, the charge it releases isn't the usual invisible wave that scrambles Letheon systems. Instead, it's a visible cyan, just like Junhui's own cybernetics.
His body throws itself to the left, narrowly missing the neural charge, which dissolves not long after it passes him. Panoptes is so set on capturing you without harming you that it doesn't even pause to register the fact that your weapon has changed.
Why isn't she running? Junhui asks himself as Panoptes uselessly orders you to return to Aegis Dynamics again.
You snort, a sound Junhui can't believe he hears. Your nonchalance is near vexing. "I imagine you've been sent to kill me. So why don't you just do it?"
As if Panoptes is taking the bait, it points Junhui's cybernetic arm at you again, this time with his palm open and his arm glowing as his pulse cannon aims at you. Still, it doesn't force him to shoot.
The AI wants you captured unharmed despite Aegis orders. Who the fuck are you?
Junhui repeats the name he assumes by now is yours. His body sighs. It sighs like it's tired. Like it's torn. Like it used to when he was human. "Please…"
You frown at the plea, just as put off as he is. Without another word, you stand and slowly tuck your neural gun into the back of your waistband, simply staring at him. He wonders if Panoptes is seeing the same things he is. The way your fists open and close as your chest rises and falls evenly like you're struggling to keep your heart rate down. Your lips pursing to keep whatever it is you want to say bottled up inside you. Your eyes boring into him like you're trying to see into his very soul. Do you know he's in here? You must. You have to know he isn't just a cyborg. He's still here. Do you know? Is that why your PI is so high?
He doesn't know how long you two stand there in silence, staring at each other, but when you decide the chances of being shot are low, you suddenly charge at Junhui straight on. Instead of shooting you down easily—the way it would anyone else—Panoptes allows you to run at him. In fact, it allows you to barrel right into him, and though you don't quite succeed in taking him down, you do knock him back a few steps, giving him no space to recover as you immediately engage him in combat.
The two of you are a flurry of fists and feet, neither of you landing a single hit for what feels like several minutes.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" you grunt as you block a kick to the side and throw a fist at Junhui's face. He blocks that too.
He'd like to ask you the same. What is wrong with you and why aren't you running? You should be taking this weird window the AI has afforded you and escaping. Instead, the two of you are locked in a dance, so evenly matched that Junhui has to wonder exactly how you're able to hold your own against a Letheon Unit. He feels Panoptes pulling his punches—desperately trying to find a way to subdue you without harming you—but he reckons even at his full power, you'd put up a hell of a fight.
Your strength is no match for Junhui's; after all, he's mostly made of metal now. Still, you seem to know exactly what to do to make sure you're not only keeping afloat but keeping Panoptes on its toes. You produce clever feints, though you never make the same move twice, making it near impossible for the AI to learn your patterns. You don't allow it to read your body language either, your shoulder moving like you're about to punch with your left fist, just to have him bending back until he's almost parallel with the ground to dodge a spinning hook. You also preserve your energy, never throwing all of your force behind an attempt to hit him; you know even the strongest human blow to a Letheon Unit won't do anything to him. Anything you do without a neural weapon won't be effective, and even then, you refuse to take that god damn gun back out, shoot him, and run like you should.
It almost feels like fighting himself… it feels like fighting someone who learned how to from Aegis Dynamics. He knew how to fight before he was taken; being able to defend yourself was mandatory growing up in Phlegethon, and he and all his friends had been in their fair share of brawls. But the ways he was forced to move under Aegis control was unlike anything he's ever tried or seen, and the ease that he took targets down with confirms it isn't a set of skills or techniques widely used or even known. Somehow, it's a set of skills or techniques you know. And you know them well. Junhui might have been built for this exact fight, but you seem to have been training your entire life for it. Waiting your entire life for it.
"Stand down," he orders through gritted teeth as he just barely catches your knee before it can lodge itself into his stomach.
He shoves it away and lands the first hit of the confrontation, throwing his elbow into your stomach. You gasp as the air is knocked from you, your body bending where you were struck. Even as he hears the strangled sound you make, Junhui knows what he felt—Panoptes pulling its power just before his strike landed, softening the blow. It felt unnatural after so many years being dragged around like a puppet. Junhui is accustomed to being shoved forward into fights, into political power struggles, into wars and battles that aren't supposed to exist. He has never once been pulled back, in the opposite direction of his mission.
Without missing a beat, the AI forces his own knee into your face, sending you back up with a pained gasp once more. Before you can take note of what's happening, his fingers are around your throat, only taking that one hand to spin you around and slam you against a crumbling pillar. Your head bounces against the concrete and Junhui's soul winces. You groan, blinking several times as you process the pain.
"Stop. Fighting," he hisses at you. "I do not wish to hurt you."
You grasp his wrist almost absentmindedly, like fighting him for your life is an afterthought. Your eyes squeeze shut and you obviously try not to pass out. It only took one maneuver to get you this dizzy. Junhui doesn't want to think about how fast this would've been over if Panoptes wasn't completely ignoring the directive it gave him. There's nothing you can do. If the AI decides it wants to complete its mission, your windpipe would be pulverized so fast, you wouldn't even know you died. But it doesn't want you dead—that much is obvious. Although you're struggling to breathe, Junhui knows that even now, he's barely holding onto you. You could slip away with some more of that fight you have, and at this point, he thinks his body would let you.
"It's time to go."
You open your eyes and begin to mouth words that don't succeed in making anything discernible other than choked gasps. Amazingly, Junhui feels his fingers loosen the slightest bit. When it's clear it's not enough for you to form real words, his fist opens even further. You suck in a huge breath of air and cough a few times. As soon as you have your breath, you look back up at Junhui, a drop of blood lingering just past your nostril from where his knee found your face. Your brows furrow as you stare hard at him, and he thinks you look as confused as he feels. His display wavers briefly.
"What is it?" his captor asks. "You have one moment to tell me before I take you into custody."
You narrow your eyes slightly, and Junhui can practically see you connecting dots he doesn't understand in your head. After a second, you scoff lightly and shake your head, your muscles moving underneath Junhui's hand. "Fuck you."
You spit a glob of saliva at his face, momentarily disrupting his vision. He feels your forearm come down hard on the ditch of his elbow, forcing it to bend and release you. He uses his free hand to wipe your spit off him, blindly punching where you were just standing. He feels Panoptes's patience—something he didn't realize the AI even had—slip for a brief moment. Because this time, his punch isn't pulled as heavily as the others, and when he opens his eyes, he finds fractures spiderwebbing through the concrete from the crater where his fist is. The AI doesn't move, simply staring at the pillar.
You, thankfully, are no longer standing there.
Contusions sustained to the head, his display warns him, highlighting his head on the tiny diagram of his body.
The notification is the only reason he knows you've hit him. He turns toward you to find you a few feet away, holding a rusty rebar you found casually at your side. You stare at him in exasperation, like you could be somewhere much more fun instead of wasting your time, dancing around with a Letheon Unit here. You're not fighting for survival, he realizes belatedly. He can't tell why you're here, but your stance is too defiant and too angry for someone who's been backed into a corner. You've been given so many opportunities to run, and you haven't thought twice about taking any of them.
"He's a good one," you pant, nodding. Your rebar twitches upward as you make a half-assed gesture toward him. "Whoever this one is. Really fast." You nod a few more times before you turn your head to the side and spit. It's tinged pink with blood, a sickening reminder of how fragile you are—how fragile Junhui used to be. And now he can do things like that to you. "Really nimble." Your free hand plants itself on your hip as you try to catch your breath like this was just a practice session. You wave the rebar a few times like you're trying to catch his attention. "You in there?"
Junhui's soul stills. Are you talking to him?
"I am—"
"Not you," you snap, your voice turning venomous at the sound of the AI using his body as a mouthpiece. It confirms his suspicion, and he feels an intense flood of joy and anguish, mixing together so well, he can't tell the emotions apart from each other. You're the first person who's spoken directly to him since he was taken, and he can't even respond.
Yes! Yes, my name is Wen Junhui, and I'm in here!
You shrug, sighing as you whip the rebar to the side so hard, it spins away from you several yards away, the sound of it landing echoing through the abandoned underpass. Junhui would scream at you if he could. For someone with a threat level and PI so high, you have zero survival skills.
"I guess that's pointless, huh?" you ask more to yourself than anyone else. "It's not like you can respond. Either way, I'm sorry." Panoptes doesn't say anything, but Junhui thinks both of them would ask the same thing. What are you sorry for? "I'm sorry you have to die a Lethe."
The anguish wins out. It's not that he believes you're strong enough to kill a Letheon Unit with your bare hands—it's a simple fact that you cannot. It's that he sorely hopes you're right. He doesn't know much, but just from this short time with you, he's confident that if it comes down to one person walking out of here tonight, Arcadian Prime will benefit if it's you. Aegis Dynamics wants you dead, and their abomination AI wants you imprisoned. He doesn't need to know anything else; that's enough information to know you need to walk out of here alive, and the only way you can do that is if he's dead.
"Anyway, I don't think I have anything else to learn here, and I'm tired."
"You are to return—"
You're running at him again. His display predicts you're going to punch him, but of course, you don't. And of course, the AI doesn't detect what Junhui does. At the last moment—just as Panoptes is forcing his body to lean to the right to dodge a punch it's 97.8% sure you're about to deliver—you spin the direction of the arm you have pulled back, effectively sidestepping him. With his body leaning the opposite way to dodge the punch that never came to be, you easily launch yourself at him, using his thigh as a makeshift stepping stool, deftly lifting yourself onto his shoulders, and wrapping your legs around his head and squeezing.
Activating oxygen preservation protocol, his system announces as you attempt to suffocate him. You must know that won't work on a Letheon Unit, though, because you also bring your fist down against the top of his head repeatedly, grunting as you do.
Contusion sustained. Contusion sustained. Con—
Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Junhui thinks as Panoptes continues to panic through its directive, hands coming up to make space between your stomach and his face. At some point, you graduate to throwing your elbow into his head, prompting his system to graduate to: Minor concussion sustained.
And when you've finally had enough of Panoptes refusing to truly harm you, you twist your body, throw your weight to the side, and force Junhui to fall into the dirt.
His display lights his elbow up on the diagram now, where he caught himself on the ground. Contusion sustained. He has no idea why Aegis thought it would be helpful to have the system announce every little bruise he was going to collect. His missions all involve high-threat subjects; of course he's going to walk away with dozens of bruises.
You scramble away from him, and when he looks up, he could weep in delight when he finds you fumbling with your neural gun, that odd attachment still clinging to the top of it.
Junhui is on his knees quickly, lunging forward, catching your ankle just as you right yourself, and dragging you to him easily. You grunt and instead of kicking at him like both he and the AI assumed you would, you let him pull you in. You wrap your other leg around his arm, grab his wrist, and yank up with more strength than he's anticipating, your knee colliding with his face as he's jerked toward you.
Contusions sustained to the face, his system warns him again. He'd roll his eyes if he could.
With his arm pinned and the AI refusing to deliver lethal force, his body follows as you roll yours, shoving him face down into the dirt until you're straddling his back. Panoptes finally—and pathetically—allows a single shot of hardlight to escape the wrist you're holding hostage, the beam uselessly shooting the opposite way from you and dissolving into the night. It doesn't even have what he assumes was the AI's desired effect—startling you off of him. You stay planted with your thighs on either side of his ribs, squeezing and unbothered as you pull the arm you have behind him further back until it pops right out of his socket. He doesn't feel anything.
Shoulder dislocated. Protocol in place. Please correct your arm to allow repositioning of joint. He has never been so annoyed with the unwelcome voice in his head.
"Please stop fighting," it pleads, Junhui's voice muffled by the ground. "You are to return—"
"It's you, isn't it," you grunt, your lips suddenly at his ear. "Aurora. Do you remember me? Is that it?"
Junhui feels the system buffering again. Curiously, his display glitches and brief flashes of code replace it. He catches the name Aurora a few times.
"You are to—"
"No," you hiss. Junhui feels the barrel of your gun against his back, and he realizes this is very much it.
You are going to kill him. This should've been fairly easy, but Panoptes's reluctance at every turn is about to get him killed, and Junhui is relieved. Allowing a rebel labeled PI Prime to escape unharmed is a good thing to die for, he thinks. At least in death, his mind will finally rest. In death, he'll reunite with sleep. And he's so tired.
He wishes he could close his eyes now, let the world quiet down, and savor this moment a little more. Instead, he stays alert, the intruder in his body very obviously unsure of its next step.
"Tell them to send me all the Lethes they have. I'll kill every single one if I have to," you say, speaking directly to the AI.
Junhui fleetingly ruminates on the unfairness. The thought of you cutting down every single Letheon Unit they send after you—and something tells him they will be sending them all once they realized he failed—fills him with inexplicable grief.
This is the life of a Letheon Unit: kidnapped off the streets, butchered beyond recognition, and killed by the very people they would fight for if they could. But he's always been a pragmatic person, even when he was still in Phlegethon. It's either you kill the Letheon Units or they're forced to kill you. He supposes if your survival means the end of the Letheon program altogether, then he'll have to accept that he and all the other units are necessary collateral damage, devastating as it is.
"Tell them…" you practically growl into his ear, your lips grazing the shell of it as you speak. "I'm coming for fucking everything."
The barrel of your gun presses harder against his back, and he feels his soul perk in anticipation.
Wen Junhui, Wen Junhui, Wen Junhui. You are Wen Junhui, and you are about to be freed.
Death, it turns out, is agonizing. And for once, Wen Junhui feels it all.
[border]
He was with his friends when he was taken.
His mother died giving birth to him and his father died in an accident at the factory he worked at when Junhui was only a teenager. He had no parents to call and tell him, "Be careful. Another person went missing this week. Go straight home after your shift and make sure you lock your doors."
He also spent over 80 hours a week working for crumbs. He didn't have time to visit the corner store and gather around the single television in the neighborhood. He didn't see the news that the god awful AI the government debuted a few weeks prior had predictive capabilities.
Junhui wasn't particularly invested in politics, so even if he had the proper information to navigate the world accordingly, he probably wouldn't have. He probably would have continued working his body to its limits only to barely keep his head above water. Survival mode made keeping up with anything outside of his own life a tall order—one that he hadn't been interested in filling.
So on a rare shift where he and his friends all worked together, crawling in utility tunnels and repairing electric lines for other zones—a cruel job for citizens that had no electricity at night themselves— he agreed to catch up for a few minutes after they clocked out. They walked the route from the tunnels back to Phlegethon, stopping at a park and laying down on the rusty roundabout to stare at the stars, their heads meeting at the center as they talked about how tired they were—how there was nothing to even really catch up on because all they ever did was work.
They had only been there for 10 minutes before the lights began flashing against the trees, dappling the dead leaves in blue and red. The police were still human then; they were just as violent and trigger-happy as the Letheon Units were made to be, but at least they were human. One could hope they'd be able to appeal to some sort of emotion left in them. When they came, guns drawn on Junhui and his three friends, he was scared and confused. They knew his name, his occupation, his entire life. And they claimed to know he was planning to murder a coworker soon. A coworker he never even spoke more than two words at a time to. They arrested him, and within 24 hours, he was sedated and under the knife.
And that's where he stayed for weeks. First, it was the complex system of wires and nodes along his neck that gave away his freedom as he knew it. They didn't give him even a moment to process the new tenant in his body before he was being cut open again. This time, for a cybernetic eye—one that fed him too much information about himself and the people around him. Then, it was the hardlight shooter in his wrist. Once he was performing actual missions, the mods came.
A pulse cannon in the palm of his hand. Reinforced armor under the skin of his torso. Hidden thrusters embedded into his elbow and his ankles to land punches and kicks with 10 times as much force. A reconstructed face after the bombing at Morphae's checkpoint.
Each time, they put his body to sleep, but as always, Junhui stayed awake. He heard the scalpels, the saws, the wet squelch of his organs being rearranged to make room for whatever it was they were putting in him. He listened to the giddiness of employees who looked at him like some kind of playable video game character. He listened to doctors and scientists debate what his human body could and couldn't take. And before he was even up off the table, he was subject to the scientists' ideas for their next "update" with him. An update. Like he was one of the devices he knew more fortunate Arcadian citizens carried around with them.
His body was being carved into and chopped up, and to them, it was simply an update. He still bled red blood, he still required healing time after surgeries and injuries, he still thought and hoped and suffered and felt—he was still more human than he was machine. But to them, some of his worst memories were just updates.
The hope died quickly. At first, he thought his friends would find a way to rally resources—get him some kind of legal help. When weeks turned into months, he hoped this was some kind of mistake; Aegis would find the real culprit and they would release him, and even with his new body parts and the way his eye would vibrate in his skull like it was working too hard, he would simply say thanks and run back home, too scared to make a bigger fuss.
It didn't take long for him to start losing track of time. He could only count the hours his body slept while he stayed awake, endlessly counting the seconds or else he thought his mind would fracture in irreparable ways—more than it already had. And one day, without realizing it, he decided there was little room left in him next to all the metal for hope.
It came back in dangerous, fleeting moments, and he tried hard to remember what it felt like. If his body was no longer human, he could at least make sure his mind was. But time bled and sometimes he did too, and hope became a lost art to him.
It's ironic that now that he's dead, he's so full of it, he's practically choking on it. Because what is there to hope for anymore? He lived a bleak life and died a bleak death, and now he'll be here—wherever here is—trying to relearn what it means to be human. What it means to be Wen Junhui. What it meant to be him anyway.
He's dead but he's free, and that's enough for him.
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A/N: next part will be out next week, july 26! let me know what you think in the meantime :)
🪼⋆｡𖦹°. synopsis: you and wonbin were casted to model on the front cover of vogue's next issue, forcing the two of you into situations a little too close for comfort (for him at least...).
(,,>ヮ<,,)! ~ contents: smut!! 18+, model au, sub!wonbin, age gap(ish? 3 yr), noona kink, forced proximity, porn with plot, degradation, praise, oral (f!receiving), p in v, virgin wonbin, super i mean SUPER pussy drunk wonbin..., creampie, he is RIGHT where he wants 2 be..
🫧⋆. author's note: inspired by wonbin's look @ the chanel show... holyyy [insert drooling emoji]
you’ve never really been that into younger men.
you were the kind of woman who needed someone mature; you needed someone who knew what they wanted in life, someone with plenty of love to give, and someone with more than enough money to spoil you rotten.
well–that last bullet wasn’t entirely necessary. after being involved in the modeling industry for roughly eight years, you miraculously managed to climb up to the top. you could spoil yourself whenever you pleased–you’re a chanel ambassador for crying out loud–why would you need a man to give a mere fraction of what you already had?
yet, you did long for some form of intimacy: physical or emotional.
which is why this recent booking of yours was beginning to drive you mad.
you were hired to model for vogue’s front cover along with the industry’s infamous rookie: park wonbin. he was 24 years old, marking him three years younger than you. it only took him a year to get big in the industry, which wasn’t hard to believe if you’ve seen his face…
but still, not a big deal–right? you’ve modeled for vogue countless times (not to brag),
‘having a co-model wouldn’t make the experience any different,’ you thought.
it wasn’t long after you left the changing room before your gaze was met with the man himself. gosh–you knew his shoulders were broad, but seeing them in person-
“hi, i’m park wonbin. i’m looking forward to working with you,” he spoke softly. “i’ve-i’ve seen your work, you’re incredible.”
you returned his comment with a smile, reaching out to shake his hand. “thank you, you too.”
wonbin’s ears flushed a soft red, smiling and avoiding your eyes before the two of you were called to the set.
geez, you knew he was a rookie, but you never expected him to be this awkward… you would assume that the amount of gigs he’s booked would make him more confident.
“condense a little, come closer together.” the director said.
you were seated on a dark velvet sofa, legs crossed as they hung over the edge. wonbin was positioned on the floor directly beneath you embracing your legs.
“lean in a little more–really look at her.”
wonbin followed what he was told, tilting his head to face you. he leaned his torso closer to you, his warm palms running up and down the curvature of your legs as his cheeks began to blush.
you faced the camera, keeping a monotonous expression.
the cameras shuttered. “good, stay like that,” the photographer requested. “thread your fingers through his hair.”
so you did; wonbin’s hair was undeniably soft, you could stay in this position for ages… you continued petting him, almost like a dog.
you’ve worked with attractive men, sure–but the man behind you had talent. the way his hands grazed over the fabric of your dress, the way his eyes wandered over your body like a lover would-
and it only got worse when the two of you switched poses.
wonbin rested his body against the sofa, elbows propping up his upper half. your body hovered directly over him before settling yourself on his lap, thighs straddling his hips. you grabbed hold of his tie and tugged it lightly–just enough to render the fabric taut.
the staff continued to instruct the two of you how to pose, taking their oh sweet time as they kept the two of you in this position. this was all a part of the job; sometimes you have to be a little too close for comfort to someone you don’t know, but at least it was guaranteed they’d be conventionally attractive.
so straddling wonbin–practically grinding on him from the amount of times you were told to shift positions on top of him–wouldn’t have been a problem.
if you couldn’t feel how fucking hard he was underneath you. his cheeks flushed a soft pink, not bearing to look you in the eyes after you realized just how aroused he was…
you were attractive, sure–but getting all hot and bothered over someone you’ve only known personally for an hour or two, not to mention mid-shoot… these photos, his erection was going to be exposed to the whole population for god’s sake–what the heck was he thinking???
after an agonizing ten minutes–emphasis on agonizing–the shoot was finally over. you stood up, wonbin not wasting one second before making his way to his dressing room.
you changed back into your clothes from earlier and gathered your things, locking the door behind you before passing by wonbin’s change room. the rational part of you was screaming to just keep walking, the sooner you get home the better. but the other part of you had a few doubts… ‘i mean, he is my co-star, we did just have a shoot together…i should drop a couple words before i leave…’
did you just want a valid excuse to see him again? (and maybe get in his pants…) yeah, but honestly, seeing wonbin fight to ensure he doesn’t cum on camera was enough to soak your panties through.
you mustered up the courage to knock on the door, slowly stepping back as you began to regret your decision. your thoughts began to jumble together, ‘maybe i should just leave…he’s probably-’
the door cracked open slightly, wonbin peeking out from behind. after realizing it was you, he opened the door a little more.
“hi.”
“hi.” his face was flushed, bits of his bangs sticking to his forehead. his hand around the doorknob trembled. “um, i really liked working with you today.” wonbin said awkwardly, his eyes darting to the side.
“really?” you smiled. “what makes you say that?”
wonbin continued to avoid your gaze. “i’m sorry…”
you looked up at him, tilting your head. “for what? i think the photos turned out pretty nice.”
“sunbaenim…i didn’t mean-”
“just call me noona.” you interrupted. oh my gosh, he was so fucking shy…you just wanted to watch him crack. he nodded, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ as his eyes found your breasts–like he couldn’t be any more obvious…
“can i come in?” you asked. his gaze fixes onto yours before giving you permission to enter.
you walked into his room and locked the door. you grabbed the nape of his neck and pressed your lips against his, earning a quiet whimper from the boy in front of you. he walked you backwards until your back was pressed against the door.
wonbin’s hands snaked around your waist, gripping your sides as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. his right hand trailed to your ass while soft moans escaped his lips. you pull away from the kiss, noses still rubbing against eachother.
“do you do this with everyone you work with? rub your dick all over them in front of everyone–then lure her into your dressing room to fuck?” you palm the growing bulge in his slacks. “you’re so fucking immature. do you even think about the consequences? your career?” your hand worked the zipper on his pants as you continued to reprimand him, slowly pulling down his pants. wonbin’s knees grew weak as you scolded him, his breathing ragged.
“noona, i…” he whimpered.
“i don’t want to hear it.” your lips crashed into his once again. you began to rub his soaking tip over the fabric of his boxers. “yeah? what if your manager saw us right now–saw you right now. what if they all saw how pathetic you are, letting your senior touch you like this.”
wonbin bucked his hips into your hand. “please, noona–listen to me baby…” he moaned. “i’m so…sososooo sorry baby… you just felt so good…” he cried into the crook of your neck. “please–please take care of me…please, i’ll be good, i’ll be so good for you…i’ll be a good boy-”
‘he’s lost it’ you thought. but oh–how you loved seeing him like this.
“you’ll be good? yeah?” you press your fingers into his underwear, not granting him any sense of relief yet.
he tugged on your shirt, pulling you towards the sofa. his back was pressed against the seat cushion, your body hovering over his. it was the same scenario as earlier–except there weren’t any cameras on you and wonbin’s pants were no longer in the way of his hardened dick. he pulls you down, lips embracing yours as his hips jerked up to meet yours.
his hands found your shirt once again, lifting it up and over your head; the only thing separating him from seeing your bare torso was the black lace bra you had on. wonbin let out a quiet moan when he saw the fabric–reaching for the clasp.
“can i take this off?”
you nod. wonbin wastes no time and removes your bra, ogling your breasts. “please let me touch them, noona…i really wanna make you feel good noona–please.”
“i know, i know you do…touch them.”
wonbin sat upright, spreading your legs even more as he was practically humping you. his plump lips found your nipples as he began sucking and nipping at the tips. your hips moved against his as your hands found his hair.
with time, the two of you had discarded all of your clothes, making a mess of the floor beneath you two–but that didn’t matter. the only thing that did was that wonbin was underneath you, rubbing his thumb over your swollen clit.
“does this feel good? please, please tell me i’m doing good noona…”
“fuck– yes you’re doing so good…” you choked as you felt wonbin lick a strip of saliva over your hole.
“i’ve–i’ve never done this before, tell me if it’s too much…” he said against the heat of your inner thighs. his tongue pushed deep into you–earning a moan from you. he thrusted his index and middle finger inside, caressing your plush walls as he ate you out.
his fingers moved back and forth rapidly, licking up and down your insides–his fingers hitting your sweet spot.
“bbin–i’m gonna cum–”
“am i doing good noona? please noona–i–”
a series of whimpers escaped your lips as you coated wonbin’s hand and mouth with your juices. he inserted his fingers deeper, forcing the liquids back into your pussy. he wasn’t done with you until you were sure this was the best sex you’ve ever had.
still coming down from your high, you noticed that his dick was still as hard as ever. you needed him in you… now.
“wonnie, i need your dick…please, be a good boy and make noona feel good…” you cried.
“i…don’t have a condom, baby…” he rubbed his dick on your inner thigh, coating his tip with the remnants of your high.
“wonbin, i don’t care…what did i just say.”
“‘m sorry… i’ll be good for you, i promise…” you parted his lips with your fingers before thrusting them into his mouth. wonbin jerked his dick in his hand before slowly pushing it into you. “fuck–i think ‘m already close…” he whimpered. “i’m…i’m so sorry for being bad…i’m sorry for touching you, i’m sorry for even looking at you…” he cried as he thrusted his dick forward, sputtering nonsense as he tried to squeeze into your pretty pussy. “it’s too much noona…i don’t deserve you, baby.”
you cried, clutching the couch cushion as he entered you. “bbin–it’s too big, you’re too big…”
“no, baby…please…i know, i know i know i know…” right when wonbin pushed his cock in all the way, thick white ropes painted your walls. a tear ran down wonbin’s cheek as he thrusted his cum into you. it didn’t matter that he just had the best orgasm of his life–he needed you to experience it too.
his dick was curved ever so slightly, and oh did it do wonders. his tip hit that gummy spot that made your legs go weak–and the fact that his pace just kept increasing made the sex even better.
wonbin flipped you over onto your stomach, lifting your ass to make sure his dick kept fucking you just right.
“bbin you’re so good, treating me so good…i needed your dick bbinie…” you couldn’t stop moaning, you could feel his cum dripping out of you no matter how much he tried to fuck it back in. he pushed your head into the cushion and cried out countless grunts and moans, the two of you coming to your release once again.
your insides were filled with his warm seed and his dick was equally drenched from your squirting. wonbin pulled out briefly, releasing his cum all over your entrance.
the room was hot and stuffy, not to mention filled with the sound of heavy breathing. the mix of yours and wonbin’s juices coated the sofa and reached the floors as well…
“you did so good…so good baby…” you pet his head as he collapsed on top of you, kissing up on your neck.
“noona–” he moaned as he pressed his lips onto yours.
“do you wanna come back to my place?” you suggested. he was just too cute to leave alone…
wonbin nodded, humping your thigh as his tongue explored your mouth even more.
after today, wonbin knew what he wanted in life: to spend it with you. he had the money to spoil you–being one of SM’s top models after all. he could be mature for you, he would do anything for you. whether you needed a fuck-buddy or needed to be loved to death–wonbin would be more than willing to fill that gap in your life.
drabble ... nsfw!!! ... contains : biting, smut, begging, love as a petname
wc361 ; ive had this idea for like a year the vampire y/n agenda is so dear to me
sunoo might have a fascination with being bit, and no he doesn't want you to stop. it doesn't help that you just can't resist him ♡
he'll beg you to put your pretty teeth in his neck and whines so cutely when you do, especially as foreplay whether youre on his lap with maybe slow, teasing grinding or tasting the inside of his mouth
"bite me... y/n i need it, bite me, please." desperate hands grab at your hips, your waist, the back of your head even, encouraged by your kisses and nips along his neck.
or sat next to him on the bed and kneeling between his legs while you ride his thigh and he holds onto your shirt… breathing uneven with little gasps as your fangs sink into his neck.. one hand on the side of his neck and the other on his shoulder, pressing him against the wall while he whimpers under your mouth, back arching and hips lifting under your weight with a gasp.
and his fingers tighten their hold on you when you pull away, urging you back towards his neck with a breathy “again, please” even though his pretty lashes are fluttering and his heart beats a second slower. “are you sure, love? don’t wanna hurt you…” you whisper into his ear, letting your lips brush the skin on purpose, hot breath evoking goosebumps all over his shoulders.
he just nods slowly, humming and eagerly tilting his head to offer his throat and give you easy access :(
sunoo's neck is the ideal appetizer, but the veins at his wrists and soft skin at his shoulders are just so enticing.
holding the boy against any flat surface, a palm at his waist, fingers around his wrist and licking at the puncture as his eyes flutter at his blood that decorates your lips
pulling his shoulder between your teeth while you’re in bed next to him, with his head tucked into your neck and his arms squeezing your waist as he gasps, thighs tensing around yours. especially with your knee between his legs, humming when he grinds against you without hesitation…
he just gets so turned on when you bite him ><
masterlist ────────────── @my1003soda 2026 <3
the power bottom cocky sassy pillow prince sunoo is so prominent in my mind but i just cant stop thinking about this. mb yall.
summary: you just bumped into your insufferable ex and yuma is next to you, so what are you going to do? rope yuma into becoming your boyfriend, of course!
pairing: nakakita yuma x reader
genres & tropes: friends to ????, fluff, fake dating
word count: 1553 (excluding summary)
author's thoughts: sorry for disappearing... everyone... hehe...
“Yeah, I’m actually dating Yuma right now,”
You put on your biggest (fakest) smile as you hug Yuma’s arm while staring at your ex, who has been bothering you ever since the breakup six months ago. You can feel Yuma’s eyes on you – instead of returning the eye contact, you continue to smile at your ex while silently praying that Yuma would just get along with the lie.
And also mentally sighing, because what you thought was a short run to a convenience store to buy your favourite chips turns into bumping into Yuma (which is not a bad thing, it’s just that… you just don’t want to see anyone right now), then… your ex.
Is it so hard for a girl to live in peace? You just want to buy snacks to eat while watching Studio Ghibli movies, to wind down after a long week…
“Is this… for real?”
Your ex asks in disbelief. You eagerly nod, and look at Yuma who just shifted his eyes away from you – brightly, hoping that your ex can see the love (nonexistent) in your eyes.
“Yeah. I’m dating her now. We’ve been keeping it low for a while, because you know, she’s trying to process her emotions and things. And private, because we don’t want people talking,”
Yuma’s words make you feel relieved and extremely grateful to him for going along with the act. And also to heaven, because you’re being blessed with a friend that’s quick witted and able to read the room.
“You guys are lying, there’s no way– there’s no way she’ll be in love with you, dude,”
“I think you’re the one who’s lying. To yourself, by the way. Because we’re very much in love with each other, right, baby?”
Yuma looks at you, and you nod at him while your lips curl into an even bigger smile. Your cheeks are definitely going to be sore after this interaction ends, you think to yourself, as you’re smiling really wide and keeping it steady to show that you’re extremely happy (pretending, actually).
“There’s no way, Y/N. You– we were so in love with each other! You– you’re such a fucking traitor,”
Your ex moves closer to you while getting emotional – his voice raised, eyes looking like it’s going to pop out of its socket, and face reddened. Yuma instantly steps forward, hiding you behind his back as he pushes your ex away.
“Hey. I don’t appreciate you accusing my girlfriend of such things,”
“Fuck off dude!”
“Or what? Are you going to throw a punch on me or something? For protecting my girlfriend? I can definitely take punches, but are you ready to take mine?”
You shut your eyes tightly – why men often resort to violence to settle things? You hope that Yuma’s words are just an empty threat, to get your ex off you and leave you alone. Because if not… you’re definitely in for the long night.
Yuma steps forward to intimidate your ex more, causing you to panic – you instantly tugs on his hand to gain his attention. Once his eyes are on you, you desperately shake your head, hoping that it would stop Yuma from starting the fight.
“You know what. On second thought, both of you fit each other well. A bitch and a playboy, what a good combination,”
Yuma raised his fist upon hearing your ex addressing you as bitch – your eyes turned wide and you immediately wrapped your arms around Yuma’s waist tightly, before you forced him to take a few steps back with you.
“Let’s not fight, please. Please. Please, Yuma,”
“He called you a bitch.”
“Nakakita Yuma, please. No. Please,”
You heave a relieved sigh when you watch Yuma slowly lowering his fist, before glaring at your ex for bringing trouble to you. Your ex chuckles, and childishly throws both of his middle fingers in the air before exiting the convenience store.
“Why did you date a fucking loser?”
“I regretted it. I really am. Thanks for stepping in, Yuma. I’ll… pay for whatever you’re going to buy as a thank you,”
“If I want to buy this store?”
You badly want to roll your eyes at his words, but he helped you earlier, so you can’t act all sassy to the man who just saved you from your ex.
“Whatever you’re going to reasonably buy as a thank you,”
Yuma chuckles as you clarify yourself, while you sigh and shake your head – exhausted with your ex and Yuma’s antics.
“There’s no need. And I’m sorry for getting too carried away. I’m allergic to men who can’t respect boundaries,”
“Please, let me pay for something as a thank you,”
“No. Let me pay for you instead. You deserve a treat after… meeting with that kind of man.”
“...Huh?”
You’re caught off guard at his words, because not only he refuses to let you treat him as a thank you – he’s also offering to treat you for having such a bad encounter with your ex.
“Pick anything, Y/N.”
Yuma then left you after saying that, heading to the aisle he intended to go earlier before being roped into becoming your boyfriend. You watch Yuma as he hums while walking away – another sigh escapes your lips, before you decide to accept his offer and begin picking your snacks. You then follow him around in silence – he did a few rounds in the convenience store before finally heading to the counter to pay.
“Do you need these to be packed separately?”
The cashier asks after confirming that Yuma is paying for yours, and Yuma shakes his head as a response.
“Eh? Separately, please.”
“I’m walking you home, so there’s no need for that. Just pack it together, please.”
You look at Yuma with a puzzled face, and Yuma chuckles at your reaction before he points outside with his eyes. You instantly realize what’s going on and roll your eyes – you’re about to seriously throw a tantrum, because why the hell is your ex waiting for you outside the convenience store?
“Sorry for troubling you, Yuma,”
“Nah. I have to get my 10k steps anyway. Let’s go,”
Both you and Yuma thank the cashier before Yuma reaches his arm out – you quickly understand what he’s hinting on, and lightly hug his arm just like you did earlier.
“Thank you again, Yuma,”
Yuma just smiles at you. Both of you exited the convenience store, and you can immediately see your ex’s figure from the corner of your eyes.
“Don’t be so tense. Pretend like he’s not here, or else he’ll notice that you’re lying. If he’s not an idiot,”
Yuma said in a hushed voice – if it wasn’t you being close to him, you definitely would’ve missed his words. You exhaled a deep sigh, trying to loosen up all the muscle and make yourself appear relaxed, while tightening your grip on Yuma’s arms.
Both of you walked in silence – you’re too stressed to say anything, and Yuma noticed that, so he didn’t bother breaking the silence. You guide Yuma into your apartment building, and bring him to the front of your house – just in case if your ex is watching both of you, somewhere.
“Thanks, Yuma.”
“It’s… nothing. Glad I can help. Let me know if he’s still bothering you, yeah?”
Yuma hands the plastic bag to you after stuffing his snacks in his hoodie’s pockets, making you chuckle as he looks like a big belly penguin right now.
“I don’t think he’ll bother me… at least for now,”
“Okay. But if he does… Don't hesitate to call me, okay?”
“Alright. Will do,”
“Great. Get inside first,”
You nod, and waved him goodbye before closing the door. Instead of making your way to the living room, you stand in front of the door while pressing your lips into a thin line – you’re contemplating on whether to say your thoughts out loud, or not. Another deep sigh escapes your lips before you open your door, and quickly turns your head around to find Yuma.
“Yuma!”
Lucky for you, Yuma isn’t that far – maybe because he’s carrying lots of snacks in his pocket, so he walks slowly.
“Yeah?”
Yuma turns his head to you, and waddles back to your door.
“I– I, uh. Thank you. For stepping in, and for being a gentleman. I– I didn’t think that you’ll actually play along… so I'm… grateful. Thank you,”
“It’s… truly nothing, Y/N. It’s an honour to be your fake boyfriend for 10 minutes,”
“Huh?”
“And I will do anything, actually, to save a pretty girl in distress.”
Yuma shot a flirty wink at you, causing you to laugh before you shake your head. There’s a reason why Yuma earned his title as a playboy in the campus – he smoothly flirts with everyone, and by everyone, you mean literally everyone. You vividly remember how red Jo’s face when Yuma flirted with him – that boy keeps fanning himself with his book despite the hall being cold as hell.
“Flirty boy. Playboy.”
“Your flirty boy. Your playboy, Y/N.”
Yuma winked again, making a chuckle escape from your lips.
“Whatever. Good night, Yuma.”
“Good night, Y/N. Dreams of me, maybe I’ll be your real boyfriend in that dream of yours?”
“Don’t push your luck, Yuma,”
“Well, a man can dream.”
additional notes: thank you for reading till the end <3
IN WHICH the heatwaves are terrible lately, and you don't see a different solution than to sleep naked—a sight your boyfriend is obsessed with
contains— smut, unprotected sex, plot what plot, breast play, heat waves idk
word count— 1.5k
↪ izzy speaks... staying true to the fic, i woke up at 5am today because of how fucking hot it was in my room
wonwoo m.list | masterlist
You don't like this heat. It's been days of you sweating buckets all day long, no matter if you're outside or inside, if you have the air conditioning on or not—you still end up feeling way too hot.
Nights are the worst. It's been a week since you decided to ditch your blanket completely, but with your boyfriend's warmth still radiating off him every night you share the bed, it didn't do anything to help you have a good night rest.
You've been rolling over in bed for the last thirty minutes that Wonwoo has been in the shower. The weather is terrible. You used to love summers before these heat waves. Now, you're not so sure you still do.
Getting out of bed, you decide to drop the bottom of your pajama set, changing the shorts out for a pair of panties instead. You leave the tank top on for now, trying your luck at falling asleep now.
You still feel like dying.
There must be something wrong with the walls, flooring—you don't know. But there has to be something wrong with this room. There is no way it can still be this hot despite all your tries at reducing the heat.
Groaning, you lie flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. If you can't bear the heat now, what are you going to do when Wonwoo comes back? The two of you have always slept cuddled together and you don't want to change that. But his body heat never does well to you and you end up without any sleep at night.
You're quick to discard your top as well, letting it drop to the ground as you stay in bed in just your panties, the rest of your skin on full display. You close your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, giving falling asleep another chance.
As much as you'd love to sleep, you don't get a chance to see if the lack of clothing helps you keep the heat down as the bedroom door opens and Wonwoo comes back in, ready to join you in bed. Your name slips past his lips, forcing your eyes open as you question what he needs.
Wonwoo's eyes trail down your body, taking in every inch of your naked skin. There was no part of him that thought he'd be coming here to this. He certainly isn't complaining, though. You, sprawled out on his bed, your hair a mess on the pillow, your chest on full display, your nipples greeting him, and your pussy covered with a simple lacy sage fabric that would be so easy for him to take down.
You watch as his cock grows hard under the fabric of his sleep shorts, your eyes widening. "It's too hot in here," you excuse, turning to lay on your side.
Mistake. Big fucking mistake.
Your breasts squeeze together, appearing much bigger now than they did when you were on your back. Your ass has also joined the sight this time, and it all makes Wonwoo feel like he's going insane. "Tell me about it," he breathes out, unable to take his eyes off you. There is so much for him to look at. He doesn't have enough eyes. "Is this helping?" He steps closer to you slowly, watching as your cheeks flush.
"I didn't have a chance to figure it out yet," you mumble, your eyes following every one of his movements. His shorts rest low on his hips, the rest of his body on full display for you. He always sleeps like this but somehow, it feels much more intimate tonight. Is this how he feels watching you lie here practically naked? Is his head spinning at the sight of you like yours is over him?
"What if I want to make you warm again?" He asks, a smile spreading on his lips as he comes to your side, your head tilted back so you can look up at him. "You're so beautiful, my love."
Squeezing your thighs together, you bat your eyelashes at him. "Depends if getting warm is worth it."
"I think it'll be worth it," he nods, creating a smile on your face as well.
Pushing yourself up, you sit on the edge of the bed, opening your legs so he can step between them. Brushing your hair behind your ears, he cups your face gently before leading down and pressing his lips to yours. You wrap your hands around him without pulling away, leaning back and tugging him with you. With your back flat against the mattress, you let him climb up so he hovers over you, his lips grazing your skin. From your jaw to your breast—he's got it all covered.
Sighing in pleasure, you rock your hips forward as his lips take in your nipple. Your boyfriend's tongue has always been skilled—a fact he reminds you of each time you're naked together. You love when he has his mouth on you, no matter where he decides to find his home. Tonight it's your chest, and you absolutely love it.
Squeezing your other breast in his hand, he makes you moan as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. He pinches the little bud as well as tugs on it, your eyes closed and your head tilted back. You're not sure where to put your own hands, needing to feel all of him. From his broad shoulders, to his chest and waist, down to his ass and then crotch. He groans against your skin as you wrap your hand around his length through the fabric covering him.
"Won," you moan, giving his cock a tight squeeze in hopes of getting some release. He hums, rocking his hips into you.
"I know, baby," he whispers, kissing your breast once more before he pulls back to look at you. He's left a mark around your nipple, one he admires proudly. Letting his hand wander between your legs, he feels how wet you are on his fingers. "Look at you," he coos, unable to hold back a smile. "This is why you decided to sleep naked tonight, isn't it? You wanted us to end up like this."
You hum, unable to tell him no now that you have him between your legs. You wouldn't say that's what you planned all along—you really just wanted to be less hot—but you're also not confident in yourself. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you dig your heels into his lower back and bring him closer. "Will you do something about it?"
Wonwoo groans at the sight of your pouty lips, not hesitating anymore and tugging your panties down, exposing you completely. His shorts are gone next, your naked bodies melting together as he puts his lips to yours once again. You exchange open mouthed kisses as he nudges his tip against your clit, teasing you before he allows himself to dip inside. Your nails scratch onto his back at the stretch you feel, heavy breathes leaving your lips.
He looks down to your connected bodies, biting back a curse as your walls clench around his length. Your breasts move along with him, calling out to his hands again. He takes care of them thoroughly, playing with your nipples while his hips move into yours.
You keep him close to you as he fills you up perfectly—just like he always does. You don't think you'll ever get enough of him. Wonwoo is intoxicating—from his smell to his touches. You feel drunk on him every time you're like this, and tonight is no different.
So many lewd sounds fill your room, you're sure your neighbors will leave complains in the morning. Neither of you seem to care, too in the pleasure to control yourself properly.
Your orgasm approaches first, your walls fluttering around him. You use the thrusts following your release to ride out your high, moaning into his ear. It's when you scream his name as he rubs your clit that his pace shutters, his head falling to your shoulders. You don't need to ask to know he's about to come. "In," you beg. "Please, in."
A loud whimper fills your ears and it takes you a second to figure out it's not your own voice but Wonwoo's. God. A second orgasm comes crashing down your body faster than you can comprehend it, accompanying his own.
He presses his lips to your to contain the cries coming from you, holding you as close as he possibly can, his hands nothing if not loving. Your bodies lock together on the bed, pressed to each other even as he pulls out of you. He kisses your face all over, soft whispers of love etched into your skin as he coos you to sleep.
Turns out you can sleep even when your body is all burning as long as he's by your side.
#9 You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours
— summary: when the same irritating boy who's had a crush on you since high school reappears in your life, you begin to question the feelings you thought you had for him.
downbad!jungwon x mean!femalereader ᨳଓ
fluff, crack. social media au ☁︎
featuring: illit's moka & yunah, cortis' martin, boynextdoor's woonhak, and enhypen!
one. two. three. four. five.
a/n: yayy pt 5 is finally here sorry for the delay ( TAGLIST IS CLOSED )
you keep dreaming of the same man, someone you swore you have never actually met. he appears in your dreams regularly, always covered in blood. when you're tasked to sketch the face of a serial killer who has been wrecking havoc in your town, you realise exactly why he looks so familiar.
GENRE — smut, dark content, serial killer au, supernatural au
WARNINGS — mostly dubcon but some noncon too, stalking, murder, lots of supernatural elements, character deaths, reader is kinda fucked in the head, internal crisis, hickeys, making out, fingering, slight spanking, backshots, riding, creampie, lmk if more!
WORD COUNT — 14.2k
NOTE — if you notice the writing style change in the middle, no you didn't.
“third time in a row. our culprit can officially be declared a serial killer.”
you looked up from the body, turning your attention towards chief kang. he was already looking at you. “wouldn’t you agree?”
you glanced back towards the body. same relaxed posture, one hand over his eyes, legs carelessly posed—it almost looked like he was still alive, just peacefully sleeping. but his skin was turning ashy, limbs rigid. and the rose.
god, the rose.
you had no idea what could possibly be it’s significance—if it at all had one. the victims always seemed to ‘hold’ a rose with one hand on their chest. the roses always had no thorns, the petals always fresh when the body was first found. perhaps, it was just the killer’s way of showing that it was indeed his work, but you begged to differ. it had to be more than just a claim, there is always more to the story than such simple explanations.
snapping back to reality, you realized that you hadn’t answered your superior yet. “yes sir, i do.”
the chief let out a hum, looking back at the body. the town was small enough for everyone to know everyone, so it wouldn’t be hard to dig up every piece of information on the victims. at the end of the day, every serial killer had a pattern. this rose lover should also have one.
“detective lee,” the chief suddenly said, turning his attention towards your co-worker and friend. “did you investigate florist kim?”
heeseung was quick to respond. “yes sir, we completed the investigation yesterday itself. please accept my apologies for not informing you earlier.”
the chief waved his hand dismissively. “not a big deal. now tell me what you figured out.”
heeseung pulled out a bunch of pictures from the file in his hands. he pointed to the first picture. “this,” he said. “is a picture of the rose on the victim’s body. they always have the exact same type of rose.” he flipped the pictures to show the roses on the other victims too.
“and this,” he said, flipping the pictures to show fresh roses inside a greenhouse. “is a picture of the roses florist kim sells. he said he only sold red roses, since black ones cannot grow around our area. i asked around to confirm, and he was indeed telling the truth.”
he chief let out a dissatisfied hum. “yet another dead end. the killer could be right among us and we wouldn’t know because we don’t have a single clue.”
you let out a small sigh. there weren’t too many people who could possibly classify as suspects in this town, yet catching the killer or even getting a lead on him seemed practically impossible. “i can deploy some people to ask around, try to find any kind of a common link for me sketch a face. detective sim can use his computer skills to dig up information on all victims and possible suspects. detective lee can stay around the crime sites to find out any fingerprints or tiny pieces of evidence the rest of us might have missed.”
the chief nodded. “sounds good.” he patted your shoulder, as he started making his way back to the car. “this is exactly why you’re one of my favorites. you know when to lead, and exactly how to lead, along with how to correctly deploy resources.”
you only lowered your head at his words. you were well aware that his favoritism was unprofessional. but you, jake, and heeseung were truly the best detectives in the entire town. everyone in town relied on the three of you whenever any major crime happened, the chief being no exception.
he looked around at all three of you. “if you three can successfully find our killer, i will personally fund a vacation for each of you.”
the three of you glanced at each other. a vacation? now that was thrilling. “of course sir. we will give our best regardless.”
the chief gave one last proud smile, before climbing into his car. being the chief’s only direct subordinates meant most of the work load was on you three. especially since the three of you had extra talents.
you for example, had your love for art, which caused you to become the forensic artist of your town, despite there not being an official post for such a job. jake was exceptionally good with electronic devices, especially computers. heeseung had a keen eye for details, which caused him to easily find things which others may have missed. tiny details, which would turn out to actually be crucial details.
you nodded to jake and heeseung, before going into your own car. your subordinates followed quickly, getting in with you. you sighed, massaging your head. your assistant buckled his seatbelt, getting ready to drive. “where should we go, ma’am?”
you didn’t respond, lifting your head up and looking at the files in front of you. you picked them up, flipping through them. each murder was so cleverly conducted, not a single scratch on any of their bodies. the cause of death was unknown, the autopsy on the first body still being conducted. apparently the result would be known by tomorrow. but until then, there was absolutely no clue.
“take us to the first victim’s neighborhood. maybe we will find some answers there.”
vines surrounded you everywhere, the thorns prickling you continually. black roses adorned the vines beautifully, the scene equivalent to an ancient graveyard, the calmness of the place unsettlingly serene.
you forced your feet to forge ahead, despite the prickles. it was only then that you realized a terrifying fact—there was blood everywhere, drenching everything. the smell suddenly changed, from the sweet subtle smell of roses to the metallic smell of blood and rot.
your feet trudged ahead, almost on autopilot. the smell made you nauseous and lightheaded, but it was as if someone was maneuvering you like a puppet, forcing you to walk ahead despite yourself.
eventually, a gazebo came into view. it was white as snow, the rose vines wrapping around it. the blood dripped down from the vines, the droplets flowing down the pillars of the gazebo. but the most peculiar thing about the whole ordeal was the man standing in the middle of the gazebo.
you walked faster, desperate for answers. once you reached the gazebo, you hesitated. you looked at the unfamiliar man in front of you, really looked at him. his clothes were soaked in blood too. his back was turned to you, leaning on a pillar with his shoulder. he was looking down judging by the way his head was tilted downwards.
swallowing down your nervousness, you took a step forward. immediately, you slipped. before you could fall or even scream, a hand was around your waist, steadying you. a shocked gasp left you, followed by your labored breathing.
the unknown man was looking down at you, his lips curling up into a smirk that screamed menace. he helped you stand properly, before removing his hand from your waist. the loss of contact left a strange feeling in you, as if missing his warmth.
he looked you up and down, the look in his eyes becoming more and more unsettling by the minute. when he locked his gaze with yours again, it felt like you were hypnotized, with how he was pulling you in.
he raised one hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from in front of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. you suddenly snapped back into reality, taking a step back. “don’t touch me–”
you gasped, waking up with a start. you blinked several times, eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the darkness. what was that?
you remembered your dream vividly, not a single detail amiss. how was that even possible? moreover, who was that man?
you shook your head. it was just a dream, why were you letting it bother you? besides, it was probably the stress of the case that was causing you to lose sleep, resulting in such weird dreams. that was it.
right?
“so," the chief took a sip of his tea. “did any of you find anything?"
you sighed, looking down at your files. heeseung was massaging his temples. jake was the first to speak up.
“there isn't any common pattern as such, but all three victims had some kind of dirt on them." jake passed a bunch of files to the chief. “the first victim, yoon victoria, daughter of the chaebol yoon haneul, has a reputation for using money to get away with anything and everything."
the chief raised a brow. “anything and everything, you say?" he flipped through the files jake had placed in front of him. “please, do elaborate."
“maids and servants in general were always dismissed unfairly from her estate according to many, some even claiming that she had bribed many to keep their mouths shut about what went on inside there.”
by now, heeseung had stopped massaging his temples, and you stopped glaring at your files as if they might magically provide you with a clue. both of you were intently staring at jake as he spoke.
"but some people had still anonymously placed reports of the woman's bad temperament, which had allegedly resulted in the murder of a maid servant in her service. records say that the maid servant had apparently let her kid play with victoria’s, something the chaebol’s daughter was not too happy about. she had apparently flipped out, and when the maid defended herself, victoria had thrown a knife lying near her. safe to say, the knife hit its target, killing the maid instantly.”
he paused to take a breath. “the maid’s child was apparently thrown out and sent somewhere unknown, while her own kid was traumatized while seeing the scene. apparently the kid was watching from the top of the stairs, and fainted upon seeing what her mother did, causing her to and fall from the top of the stairs, dying shortly after.”
a sharp pain pierced through your temples, right as heeseung spoke. “that’s… darker than expected.”
jake let out a hum. “it was really hard to find this out. there were all in old files in the locker room, and very old and unpopular articles on the internet. found out through the—oh, i almost forgot. she used to live in a city where all this happened, but after this incident she had shifted here. apparently she never really got over the loss of her child, causing her to grow mad over the years.”
massaging your temple, you let out a hum in agreement. victoria was well known for being insane, people always mostly avoiding her. once you bumped into her in the market by mistake, and before you could even apologize, she had grabbed your arms tightly. the look in her eyes were wild, as she called a name you didn’t remember now. it took like three people to come and make her finally part from you.
the chief leaned back on his chair. “interesting… what about the other two?”
jake rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “didn’t get to find out anything about them yet, victoria alone took up a lot of time.”
the chief nodded. “no worries, this alone was a lot of help. thank you for your service, detective sim.”
jake bowed in politeness. chief kang now turned to you and heeseung. “what about you two? any updates on your sides?”
you shook your head. “not a single person in the entire neighborhood noticed anything amiss. not even a hooded figure, or someone at a place they are not supposed to be, nothing out of the ordinary.”
heeseung spoke next. “i searched up the entire site, and even more. i even had my team dig up a lot of areas, but nothing. not a single thing amiss, or anything out of place. its as if any kind of admissible evidence was taken by the killer, or we are missing something very obviously hidden.”
the chief nodded. “i believe you’re right. the autopsy on victoria must be over by now, so we will know the cause of death pretty soon.”
right on que, one of your subordinates burst into the room, files in hand. “chief!” he quickly placed the files down in front of him. “these are the autopsy results.”
the chief nodded to him. “thank you, officer park. you may take your leave now. and in future, please make sure to knock first.”
officer park bowed, embarrassed, before quickly leaving. the chief flipped through the pages, his brows furrowing.
unable to contain your curiosity, you asked, “what is it chief?”
the chief looked puzzled, as he continued to read the same page over and over again. “it says the victim died of undiagnosed diabetes? there were no signs of any kind of external or internal injuries otherwise.”
the three of you looked at each other, dumbfounded. that was… unexpected to say the very least. “but—that can’t be right.” heeseung spoke up. “it’s obviously a murder, the position of their bodies, and the black rose in their hands… it just doesn’t make sense.”
the chief hummed, putting the files back on his desk. “nothing really makes sense. no forced entry, no signs of struggle, no signs that indicate actual murder. all except the weird position of their bodies and the rose.”
the chief sighed, before looking back at the three of you. “continue with the case. something is very amiss, and we need to get to the bottom of this. keep going with the investigation. all three of you have done a brilliant job till now, so don’t stop yet.”
you and heeseung looked at each other. both of you had done absolutely nothing, jake was the one that did anything at all. but praise was praise, and who were you both to not accept it?
you got up from your seat. “i’ll continue asking around in the second victim’s neighborhood then. see if i get any clues.”
heeseung got up as well. “i’ll go there as well. maybe there’s some kind of evidence we missed out in there.”
jake gave a two finger salute. “i’ll go dig up stuff about the other two victims.”
the chief nodded in appreciation. “very good. please do carry on.”
that same garden. the same prickly vines. same black roses. all of course, drenched in blood. and in the middle of it all, the gazebo. hauntingly beautiful, drenched in crimson. same man standing in the middle of it, staring at you with a look that caused goosebumps to rise all over you.
he offered you his hand. you looked at him in the eyes. should you really trust him? nevertheless, you placed your own hand in his outstretched one, letting him pull you inside the gazebo.
as you stood face to face with him, your curiosity and anxiety, both grew in equal measure. “who are you?”
raising a brow, he smirked. he raised his hand, caressing your cheek. you flinched, but still let him do it. his touch felt strangely comforting, yet your guard remained up. after all, you still had no idea who the hell this guy was.
the look in his eyes had taken over a more melancholic edge, which left you confused. what even were you supposed to make of it? not only was this strange man covered in blood, he wasn’t speaking. and he kept finding ways to touch you. normally that would have rang alarm bells in your head, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. and you were curious as hell.
“why won’t you speak?” your brows furrowed, as you looked at him. his smirk only widened. he tilted his head, leaning close to your ear. you thought he was going to whisper something, but you were proved wrong quickly, as he bit your ear.
you gasped, trying to move away, but he held onto your waist tightly. soothing the bite with his tongue, he kissed the area. he trailed his kisses down to the bottom of your neck, making your breath hitch. he sucked on that spot, rubbing his tongue over the spot so deliciously, that it had you tilting your head from the pleasure.
a moan accidentally slipped out of you. encouraged, he sucked harder and harder, until he was satisfied. when he pulled his head back, your neck sported a bright red spot, blooming rapidly. satisfied with his work, he finally pulled away.
you snapped back to your senses, stepping away from him. his hands were in his pockets, as he stared at you with his signature smirk. you took another step backward, your hand covering the fast forming hickey on your neck. your head hit the pillar in the process, causing you to gasp.
you gasped, your eyes snapping open. your breathing was labored, as you stared at the ceiling. another dream? of the same man? what was going on? worst of all, you still remembered the dream vividly. the events had your face burning. what the hell was wrong with you?
having a weird feeling, you shot up from the bed, quickly going to your vanity table. you switched on the small light beside it. to your utter horror, there was a hickey forming on your neck. you hadn’t been with anyone recently, hell you hadn’t been with anyone in quite a long time. so how–?
surely, the dream was simply a dream? you couldn’t possibly have gotten the hickey because of… that dream, right? after all, it wasn’t real.
right?
“any news?” the chief asked, as soon as he sat down.
heeseung looked at you. you shrugged, catching his gaze. he too shook his head. once again, the two of you had nothing.
jake spoke up. “well… i did find something unexpected about our second victim.”
chief kang sat up straight. “unexpected, you say?”
jake let out a hum. “yeah. kim seil, the con artist. he used to be victoria’s secret lover back in the day.”
“holy shit…” heeseung’s voice rang out, before he quickly slapped his own palm over his mouth, immediately apologizing for the profanity. but the information was almost incredulous—not that you didn’t trust jake, his ability to dig up information was amazing—so his reaction was completely valid.
jake continued. “before victoria allegedly committed the murder, she used to have an affair with our second victim.”
“huh,” you scoffed. “so the victims do have a pattern.”
he went on. “when victoria gave birth, her husband was suspicious of whether the kid was really his or not. he had been suspicious for the entire duration of her pregnancy, since apparently the timing of her getting pregnant and the two of them sleeping together, did not match up. after the kid was born, he did a paternity test, the result showing that he was in fact, not the father.”
heeseung leaned on his palms. “the tea just keeps getting better and better.”
jake gave him a side eye, before continuing. “upon learning the news, the husband divorced victoria. the actual father, was seil. once victoria got divorced, she actively sought his company, although their affair remained an affair, never growing into something more serious.”
taking a deep breath, he continued. “he visited their kid often, and was quite a present father. when the alleged murder happened, he helped victoria, but ultimately left her, since his kid died under her protection. even so, he shifted to the same town as her, since he felt bad about her mental state.”
you leaned back on your chair. “and then he died. right after her.”
the chief looked at the three of you. “i suppose the three of you have deduced who our main suspect is? if, of course, all the alleged information is in fact true.”
you let out a hum. “the maid’s kid. but–” you looked at jake. “how come all the information is alleged?”
jake shrugged. “it’s all recorded as servant gossip. and all the complaints were by servants too. nothing is proven. so yes, it is all alleged.”
the chief opened a file placed in front of him. “the autopsy report is here. the cause of death is the exact same. undiagnosed diabetes.”
you rubbed your temples, sighing. you suddenly felt very aware of the hickey on your neck, which you spent almost twenty minutes in the morning trying to conceal. not only was there a mystery to solve out there in reality, but also in your dreams. curse your terrible living quarters for your terrible sleep which induced such mind boggling dreams. ones that left marks physically outside of the dream.
once again, you were back in the garden. the gazebo was right in front of you as well. this time, the strange man was looking straight at you.
“i was waiting for you,” he said, pushing himself off the pillar. his voice was beautiful. it had this raspy edge to it that made your knees weak.
you raised a brow. “you finally spoke,”
he only smirked, offering you his hand. “well… you kept me waiting, so i grew impatient. which is why i broke my pattern.”
you tilted your head. warily, you took his hand, letting him pull your inside the gazebo. he was yet again too close to you. but this time, before he could touch you, you stopped him. “don’t.”
his hand froze midway. he raised a brow. “what’s the matter?”
you shook your head. “just… don’t. don’t touch me.”
he clenched his jaw, but stepped back. although reluctantly so. you spoke again. “will you please tell me who you are? it is frustrating to experience these… weird dreams over and over again, whenever i sleep, without knowing anything at all as to what is going on. or even who i keep encountering.”
the man chuckled. “is that so?”
you frowned at his rhetorical question, while he only continued to stare at you with amusement. after a few beats of silence, he spoke, “jungwon.”
you blinked. “jungwon?”
he nodded. “that’s my name.”
furrowing your brows, you tilted your head in confusion. “do you live in our town?”
he shrugged. “something like that.”
your frown became bigger. “what is that supposed to mean?”
he only smirked in response. “find that out yourself, detective.”
his words unintentionally caused your cheeks to flush. ignoring your bodily reactions, you instead focused on his clothes. “why are you always soaked in blood? and in this weird garden?”
his smirk grew wider. “curiosity killed the cat, detective. we should leave some of the mystery for our next meetings.”
you were quick to respond. “but satisfaction brought it back. please, everything is so frustrating and blurry and just out of reach—please answer some of my questions.”
jungwon only shook his head. “i’m afraid this is the best i can do for now. till our next meeting, ___”
you woke up with a gasp, panting as you stared at the ceiling. “jungwon…” you whispered into the night, the name tasting familiar. it rolled off on your tongue perfectly, which made you wonder if you knew him. was he someone from your town? how come you couldn’t remember him?
but right now, you had more important matters to focus on. the rose loving killer’s case, for example.
jake dropped a bunch of files in front of him. “third victim, chae unjeong. a.k.a victoria’s ex husband.”
you looked at heeseung. at this point, neither of you were surprised. the murders were obviously connected, so it made sense that the ex husband was also a victim.
jake continued. “after the divorce, victoria had pleaded her case to unjeong a lot, but with no result. but one of the things victoria told unjeong to guilt trip him into staying was ‘stay for the sake of the child’. even though it ultimately didn’t work, he still probably felt guilty, since the poor child had nothing to do with the whole thing, and was only the product of the affair. so it wouldn’t be fair for it to suffer the consequences. thus, he often sent money in the form of child support for it. obviously, victoria didn’t use the money for those purposes, but that wasn’t in unjeong’s knowledge.”
the chief muttered under his breath, “what a kind hearted man…”
jake nodded, before continuing. “there wasn’t much else in the reports, other than the fact that when the alleged murder happened, he helped victoria as well. but the death of the kid had taken a toll on him too, which is why he shifted to this town.”
the chief hummed, flipping through the file in front of him. “his death was apparently caused by the same thing. undiagnosed diabetes. this killer has to be the most impressive killer across history, except for the fact that he deliberately made it obvious that he murdered his victims. despite the autopsy reports showing otherwise.”
heeseung let out a hum. “i think i will go to each crime site again, and search for evidence in a wider radius. it feels simply impossible that all sorts of evidence is erased from every single crime site.”
you shrugged. “suit yourself. i spent six hours or more each time i went to question entire neighborhoods. i’m more than certain i left out no one, so there is nothing more i can do from my side.”
heeseung got up from his chair. “in that case, i’ll leave alone.” he looked at chief kang. “i hope it’s okay that i’m not taking my team with me either.”
the chief shrugged. “you’re a grown man, with years of experience as a detective. it’s your decision. do what you feel is best.”
heeseung bowed, before stepping out. in the silence that followed, a nagging question that filled your mind ever since the first time you had those weird dreams, surfaced again. usually, you always pushed the question to the back of your mind because of how ridiculous it sounded, but then again, the cause of death for each victim was also pretty ridiculous. so you allowed yourself to ask the question.
was jungwon the killer?
it was already starting to get dark when heeseung arrived at victoria’s house. weeds had already started growing, and a certain smell had started settling down on the entire property. nevertheless, he still trudged ahead.
he had already checked her entire house—twice at that—which wasn’t too hard because of how tiny it was. it wasn’t even a house, more so a cottage. surprising choice, given that she was a chaebol’s daughter. but perhaps losing her own child had driven her to this state.
he went around the property again. the cottage was almost fully empty. there wasn’t much of a point to search it all over again, since even if there really was any kind of evidence left, the killer would definitely have visited again to remove it. they always do.
still, he looked around. there was a pungent smell coming from her bedroom. it had been a week since victoria’s death, so the smell was pretty justified. covering his mouth with a handkerchief, he looked through her dresser, and closet. it was all emptied out, the police having taken everything the day they came to first find her dead in her own bedroom. it was to find any kind of clue as to the cause of her death. unfortunately, as is already known, they were unsuccessful.
but heeseung was obviously not one to give up. not this quickly. he was persistent, and persistence was key when it came to solving such cases. so he overturned the mattress, before ultimately lifting the whole thing up and throwing it on the ground. thankfully he was wearing gloves, because the mattress had holes in it, which were obviously a result of rats chewing through the fabric.
it was a box bed, a fact that he already knew of, given, you know, the fact that he already searched the entire property multiple times. he opened the cover, the inside that was previously filled with sheets and other random objects, was now empty. the police had already confiscated everything.
still, he shone the flashlight inside the box. and thank god he did, because he saw this weird discolored part at the bottom, which was obviously not something he had noticed before. frowning, he pushed down on it, causing it to immediately give away. surprised, he stared at the now square shaped hole in the box.
realizing it was a false bottom, heeseung put his hand inside. his hand immediately came in contact with some sort of paper. groping around, he pulled out a stack of papers. shining the flashlight on them, he realized with a start that they were letters. dozens of them, all stacked at the bottom of the bed.
lifting one off the stack, he quickly realized that the letters were all unsent ones, written by victoria to her child. the first letter he picked up, was just victoria expressing her longing for her child, yearning to see her baby again.
reading through the letters, they all had the same content, victoria’s desperation to see her child again. it was quite sad, really, but she had killed some innocent child’s mother, so he couldn’t bring himself to feel quite sorry for her.
stuffing the letters in his pocket, he explored the rest of the house again. but unlike the bed, nothing else in the house seemed to hide any more secrets. disappointed, he headed out to the backyard. it was already dark now, but he wanted to go home without any regrets.
shining the flashlight on the fence, he explored the entire area. until a part of the fence seemed slightly lose. curious, he held the flashlight with his teeth, before pushing on the fence. he had noticed the hinge long back, but it had seemed locked each time he came to inspect it before. but this time it was different. with a bit more effort, he finally managed to pry it apart.
the fence opened to the woods. looking at the isolated house, there was a big chance that the murderer had come in through the fence. or well, it was just a possibility. he decided to explore a bit, just in case.
he walked quite a distance, before stepping on something uncomfortable. bending down, he shone his flashlight. it was a bunch of dead leaves, but he was certain it felt like something else. digging through the leaves, he came across a used syringe.
he slowly stood up, inspecting the syringe. there seemed to be some kind of residual liquid inside it. but before he could inspect it fully, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head, making him drop the syringe. clutching his head, he dropped to his knees, groaning from the pain, before eventually blacking out.
when you entered your house, it was completely silent. just like it usually was. except this time, the silence felt… wrong. you were a detective, and years of doing your job had made you more wary of approaching danger. and this time, it was no different.
you looked around cautiously. nothing seemed amiss. still, you walked around with extra caution, hand on your gun, just in case. but even after searching your entire home, there was nothing out of the ordinary. yet, the weird feeling did not go away.
the reason for it soon became apparent, when you reached your bedroom. opening the door, you froze in place. sitting on your bed like he belonged there, was none other than the man from your dreams. jungwon.
your throat dried up. all instincts screamed at you to take your gun out and aim at him, but an unknown fear was gripping you so tightly that moving at all felt impossible.
jungwon on the other hand, was having the time of his life watching you. he tilted his head back with a smirk, enjoying the way an experienced police officer like you was so terrified at the mere sight of him, despite him never having done anything to you.
he patted the space beside him. “won’t you come sit?”
forcing yourself to breathe, you managed to ask, “what the hell are you doing inside my house?”
jungwon chuckled, getting up. “that’s not a very nice way to talk to your guest, is it?”
your hand instinctively reached for your gun, but jungwon was faster. within seconds your hands were pinned to the door, jungwon’s face hovering dangerously close to your own.
“i wouldn’t try that if i were you.” he muttered, eyes unabashedly dropping to your lips. with how fast your heart was beating from the proximity, you almost caved in, before remembering your profession. and the fact that this was an intruder, a complete stranger—what he was trying to do was wrong and unlawful on so many levels.
but jungwon seemed to be able to predict your every move. he suddenly twisted your body, pushing your face towards the door. your back was flush to his chest, as he pinned both your hands over your head with one hand, taking your gun out using the other. lifting the side of your perfectly ironed shirt with the gun, he teased your bare skin with it, running the gun back and forth on your waist.
“don’t even try, sweetheart. if i wanted to kill you, i wouldn’t need a gun. and trust me when i say you’re no match for me.”
you were scared, terrified even. this wasn’t a predicament you ever thought you would find yourself in. i mean, come on, you’re trained for these situations. you know self defence. so why is it so hard to do anything to defend yourself against a guy you know only from your dreams? more so, why was he so goddamn strong?
jungwon put his face into the crook of you neck, taking in a deep inhale. god, you smelled just the way he remembered. he couldn’t help but lick a stripe up your neck, ignoring your gasp of horror. he lightly bit and sucked all over the area, trying to leave marks.
you sighed, the pleasure starting to overwhelm your rational brain. which was pretty dumb on your part, but after being touch starved for so long, you were… really sensitive. so you tilted your head, giving him more access. right on que, he sucked harder, pressing himself further into you. he threw the gun to the side, instead pushing his hand inside your shirt, opting to grope you without any obstacles.
he pushed his hand up, inside your bra, squeezing the soft flesh of your boobs. pulling his hand out, he unhooked your bra, before going right back to groping your tits. this time, without resistance. he pinched your perked up nipples, drawing whines out of you. you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to muffle any further sounds.
jungwon rolled your nipples in between his fingers, before flicking them. the way he was playing with them made them even more sensitive than before, your whines growing louder, gradually more unrestrained. slick started seeping out of your pussy, dampening your panties. you rubbed your legs trying to relieve the tension.
jungwon noticed. of course he did, he noticed everything about you. he knew everything about you. every. single. goddamn. thing. what put you off, what got you going, everything. so, when your whines started turning shaky, he smirked. he stopped groping your chest, opting to fiddle with your pants instead.
he popped the button open, pulling down your zipper along with it. pushing his hand inside your soaked panties, he was immediately met with your slick coated folds. he lightly ran one finger lightly across your folds, collecting your slick. you let out a muffled whimper at the feeling, clenching around nothing.
jungwon casually rubbed light circles around your clit, stimulating you further, trying to make your whines louder. he flicked your clit upwards, pinching it. he opted to rubbing it harshly, your broken gasps and whines for him to stop not deterring him in the slightest. in fact, it only encouraged him to continue abusing your clit further.
besides, he knew you didn’t actually want him to stop. he had spied on enough of your solo sessions to know what you liked, what you did not, and what actually made you cum. so he continued to rub your clit harshly with his thumb, inserting two fingers inside your drooling hole.
your whines grew louder, as you squeezed down on his fingers, hard. jungwon paid no heed, instead focusing on thrusting shallowly on your upper wall, listening to your broken moans in satisfaction. the added stimulation was making your head spin, your knees growing weaker by the minute.
you could feel jungwon’s rock hard boner pressing insistently against your ass, while he continued to abuse your pussy. it was all starting to become too much, too good, your brain growing hazy from the intense pleasure, when suddenly that nagging question came back to your mind–
is jungwon the killer you’re looking for?
the thought successfully brought you back to reality. with all your strength, you threw a kick at jungwon, as best as you could while being pushed face first into a door with your hands held captive, and your pussy being abused incessantly. you aimed the kick towards his balls, but missed—obviously—hitting his shin instead.
jungwon hissed at the pain. instead of flinching and letting you go like you had hoped, he dragged you towards your bed, taking his hand—now coated with your fluids—out of your dripping cunt. he pushed you head first into the pillow, practically sneering, “such an ungrateful brat.”
he opened your nightstand, taking your spare handcuffs out—how the fuck did he know they were there?—and used them to cuff your hands together. you didn’t know why you weren’t able to fight back at all, it was as if some unknown force was dulling your senses. it was frustrating, highly so. what was the point in being one of the best officers on the force if you couldn’t stop some random guy from forcing himself onto you?
jungwon pushed your ass up, forcing you to bend your knees. he was done being nice, since you were so insistent on being uncooperative. he forced your pants down, purposely letting them fall only to your knees instead of pulling them down all the way. restricting your movements even further this way.
he pushed your shirt and bra up to pool near your neck, uncaring if it affected your already dulled senses. it was what he wanted anyways. he slapped your bare ass cheek, squeezing the flesh in his palm. you bit your lip, muffling a sob, your face burning hot from the humiliation and self loathing. how could you possibly be wet in such a scenario? why was your body such a traitor?
his eyes were dark, as he stared at your fluttering hole. your slick kept dripping out, wetting the sheets, because of how worked up you were. dipping his thumb into your soaked folds, he lightly massaged your lips, adding to your humiliation. you whined, squirming. jungwon slapped your ass in warning again, to make you lie still.
getting impatient, he fiddled with his zipper, pulling his pants down just enough to pull his throbbing cock out. feeling his bare tip rub against your sensitive folds had you flinching, a fresh batch of tears gathering in your waterline. you felt useless, so fucking useless. were you really that weak? was it really that hard to fight back?
jungwon didn’t know about the self loathing thoughts he was causing you to have, nor would he have cared if he got to know about them. all he cared about was how good it felt just to rub against you, skin to skin, your slick making it too easy for him.
it wasn’t even your fault that you couldn’t do anything to protest, really. jungwon just knew all your weaknesses already. there wasn’t anything you could do to stop him. except for enjoying what he was giving you, of course.
the way he kept grinding on your bare cunt sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure up your spine, the overstimulation getting to you. your brain was going into overdrive, somehow starting to register only the pleasure. more slick poured out of you, coating his dick in a sheen of your arousal, much to his delight.
but jungwon had waited too long for this. he couldn’t wait any longer. he slowly pushed his bulbous tip inside you, his cock dragging across your walls so very deliciously. you couldn’t help but moan at the intrusion, your body completely at his mercy.
when he finally bottomed out in you, it felt like heaven to him. and unfortunately for you, you felt the same way. being touch starved for so long, it felt a bit too good to be so filled up. jungwon knew just how you felt, and fortunately for you, he intended to make it feel good. so that you never ever thought of any other cock filling you up ever again.
pulling out almost all the way, he pushed right back in, making you splutter, somehow feeling more full than you were before. his grip on your hip was tight, tight enough to bruise. pulling out slightly again, he set an almost brutal pace, one that left you dizzy from how good it felt.
he was hitting all the right spots, something your previous hookups had never managed to do. it felt good, almost too good to be true. you didn’t even realize you were moaning, until jungwon squeezed on your neck, lightly choking you. his other hand was gripping your waist tightly, which was the only thing holding you up. your legs were shaking from his intensity, shaking under his unrelenting thrusts.
suddenly, he stopped. he let go of your neck, pulling you up by your waist, making you sit up on your knees. the new angle allowed him to go even deeper, hitting your g-spot continuously. the feeling had you blabbering nonsense, half sobbing, half moaning. he used his other hand to rub circles on your clit, stimulating you even further.
sparks of pleasure shot up your spine, making you cry out from the intense pleasure. the knot in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, making you wish you weren’t handcuffed, desperately needing to hold on to something. jungwon continued to rub and pinch your bundle of nerves, making you feel like you were on fire.
the coil in your stomach finally snapped. your pussy clamped around his length like a vice, almost pushing him out. your orgasm hit you hard, washing over you like a tsunami, making your eyes roll from the feeling. jungwon’s own orgasm got triggered, as he snapped his hips up into yours one last time, balls slapping against your clit.
he shot ropes and ropes of warm cum inside you, holding your spasming body against his. your walls kept squeezing around him, milking him for every last drop. once he was done, he slowly pulled out his flaccid cock, watching the mixture of his and your cum drip down onto the bed.
carefully laying you down, he took out the tissues from the drawer in the nightstand,—again, how did he know they were there?—using them to wipe both of you clean. he unlocked the handcuffs, lightly massaging your sore wrists. your eyes were closed, as you were on the verge of unconsciousness. right as you were about to fully pass out, he said one last thing.
“don’t worry princess, i’ll be back soon.”
“i’m glad you guys are here, despite it being so early.” the chief spoke, as he walked ahead of you. you glanced at jake, who looked just as confused as you were.
“has another body been found?” you asked, already knowing the answer. what other possible reason could there be to get called upon so early, if not for the appearance of more dead bodies?
“i’m afraid so. apparently someone was taking a walk in the woods and discovered the body. he immediately called us, and upon a little questioning, it was found that the description of the body matched the rest of the victims.”
you nodded, even though the chief couldn’t see you. jake spoke up. “where is heeseung? isn’t he coming.”
chief shrugged. “i called him, but it went straight to voice mail. shot him a text but i was left on delivered. perhaps he is still asleep.”
you frowned. that was very unlikely of heeseung. he was a very light sleeper, even someone’s slightly loud breathing could wake him up. you knew because early in your careers the two of you had hooked up a couple of times, and you woke him up quite often in the night, every time you shifted to your side. it was part of why you both didn’t make it into an arrangement, along with the fact that he started dating someone.
“we are almost there.” the chief announced, as you neared a house. you raised a brow. that was victoria’s house.
the chief pushed through the gates, going inside the property. he walked around the house, the two of you, and your subordinates closely following. behind the house, a part of the fence was agape, the fence gate being wide open.
all of you went through it one by one, going into the woods. after walking for a good ten minutes, the chief stopped dead in his tracks. confused, you peaked from behind him. the sight that greeted you had your blood freezing.
there, lying on the ground, skin starting to turn ashy, legs straightened, hands carefully posed, while holding a black rose to his chest, lay heeseung.
you stared at him for what felt like several minutes, before realizing your hands were shaking. suddenly becoming hyper aware of your surroundings, you looked at jake. he didn’t seem to be taking the news too well either, his eyes way wider than you have ever seen.
as you looked back at heeseung’s corpse, you felt bile rising to your throat. all the times you guys laughed together, called each other lame, drank together—every single memory that you had of him, rushed through your mind like a movie fast forwarded.
unable to control yourself any longer, you moved to the side, running towards some random tree, before retching. you felt someone hold your hair up, but you couldn’t care less. you puked pure bile, your throat stinging. once you were done, you choked on your sobs.
getting up, you turned around to see jake, his own eyes filled with tears. he offered you a bottle of water, ignoring which, you hugged him tightly, sobbing into his jacket. he hugged you back just as tightly, his own tears wetting your shirt.
the chief cleared his throat. his voice cracked, as he spoke. “please escort him with dignity.”
the people who brought the stretcher carefully lifted heeseung’s body, taking him inside the ambulance. you watched the ambulance leave with teary eyes, before you started crying again.
outside the autopsy room, you and jake paced impatiently, waiting for news. the two of you had insisted on the autopsy to be done sooner than normal, determined more than ever to crack down the case. the killer had crossed a line by killing of a dear friend, he had to pay.
the doors to the room creaked open, both of you snapping your necks towards the source of the noise simultaneously. the guy wordlessly handled a file to you, shaking his head.
your shoulders sagged, but you weren’t ready to give up. opening the file, you scanned the pages, jake peering past your shoulder. the same ‘undiagnosed diabetes’ stared up at the two of you, along with something that stirred hope within the two of you.
mild concussion of the back of the head.
bingo. a small clue. minuscule, really, but a clue nonetheless. but then the hope quickly diminished. “heeseung went to victoria’s house to find any clues he missed out. the killer probably got to him there.” you spoke in a hollow voice.
jake hummed. “but… isn’t it odd?”
you frowned, looking at him. “what is?”
jake shook his head. “i mean, every murder happened while the victim was asleep. heeseung was killed out in the open, near one of the crime sites. doesn’t that seem weird to you?”
you blinked, looking back at the file. “it does… it certainly does.”
jake continued. “what if… what if he isn’t part of any pattern? what if he was killed because he found something? some sort of clue that would link the killer’s identity to the murders?”
the realization dawned on you. “sim jaeyun, you’re a fucking genius.”
he blushed. “i only meant it as a possibility. a mere speculation.” he said humbly.
you shook your head. “nope. you’re right. you’re absolutely correct. there isn’t another possible explanation to this, which makes it the truth, not just a speculation.”
jake scratched the back of his head. “well… what do we do then?”
you raised a brow. “isn’t it obvious? we do what we do best. i sketch and you dig up information.”
“look ma’am, i need you to think harder. this person is a serial killer, it is important we catch him quickly. so please try to remember.”
the woman looked genuinely sorry. “i’m really sorry dear, but i can’t remember anyone or anything out of the ordinary that i can remember from the past few days. i’m sorry i couldn’t be of much help.”
you sighed in disappointment. “that’s alright ma’am, i’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”
you and your team left the house, going to the car. your assistant spoke. “ma’am, we have already covered all the houses. would you like to get going?”
you sighed, wanting to cry. you didn’t want to give up so soon, but there really didn’t seem to be much of a choice. “i suppose so…”
just then, a voice shouted from somewhere in the distance. “miss, wait!”
you looked towards the source. a boy in his teens was running towards you. almost tripping on his feet, he finally stood in front of you, panting heavily. you looked at him with concern. “are you alright?”
he nodded quickly, before taking in a deep breath. “i saw a stranger last night near… that lamppost. i know everyone in town, so i’m quite positive this person is not from here.”
your eyes widened, as you quickly spoke to double check. “you sure?”
he boy nodded. “i’m positive.”
your adrenaline had spiked. “can you describe him?”
the boy squinted his eyes. “uh… i can try?”
“good.” you said, immediately signaling your assistant to grab your sketchbook and pencil. “start describing.”
“well… the light was flickering, so i only saw him for like two seconds, before he was gone, but uh… he had pale skin? and black hair. his face was soft, i guess. not too rugged or anything. his eyes were kind of big, almost almond shaped? and he had a straight nose, full lips, and a pretty sharp jawline. oh, and he was handsome. like, i’m not gay or anything, but damn that man was attractive.”
as he spoke, your hand moved, quickly. as you drew, you added your own details, something which made you quickly realize that you knew this person. with increasing dread, you continued drawing, a full face quickly forming.
once you were done, you showed the drawing to the teen. “is this the guy?”
you gave him a dry smile, before looking back at your sketch book. the hauntingly real face of jungwon stared right back at you.
chief was quiet, as he stared down at his cup of coffee, absent mindedly stirring it. your throat felt restricted, as you stared at heeseung’s empty seat. disgust rose to your throat in the form of bile, upon realizing that jungwon must have visited you after killing heeseung.
jake cleared his throat. “uhm… I looked through all of heeseung's records. it's completely clean. nothing in there outside of the information we already know. orphaned at a young age, studied hard, got a scholarship—then ditched it to join the police academy.”
chief sighed softly. “thank you jake."
jake didn't reply, sitting down. noticing how tense you were, he reached out, putting his hand on your knee. rubbing gentle circles on it.
you looked at him, giving him a half smile to thank him. you had to look away quickly, not wanting him to see your tears.
“we must be close to figuring out who the killer is. must have been why he chose to kill off one of our best officers." the chief spoke, his voice quieter than usual.
you sniffled, muffling a small sob. wordlessly, you took out your sketch book, sliding it over to him. he looked up at you, before flipping through it, stopping at jungwon’s face. he frowned, before his eyes widened. "is this–?”
you didn't trust yourself to speak, so you nodded. the chief gave you a look that showed he was genuinely impressed. “good job, officer ___, good job.”
you only bowed your head lightly. you didn't know if the picture of jungwon at all made things better, or if it only complicated things more.
the chief took one last look at the sketch book, before passing it back to you. “i assume you will send me and everyone else on the force a picture of this?"
you nodded.
the chief let out a hum. “in that case, you both can leave now. today's work is done. go home and take some rest. you both need it. and–” he looked at the two of you. "don't let today's loss deter you both from our goal. this killer is trying to discourage us from finding him. don't let him succeed.”
you felt a fresh batch of tears forming in your eyes at his words. so you kept silent. jake nodded. "i’ll try to find more information about all of our victims."
the chief nodded. he looked at you. “you needn't do anything else, officer ___. finding the face of our killer is good enough. please go home and rest.
you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. standing up, you bowed. "i’ll take my leave now.”
the chief nodded again. "off with you two then.”
jake’s apartment was messy, fitting in with the computer science nerd stereotype. his desk was cluttered, everything astray. yet for him, nothing was out of place. in fact, he knew exactly where everything was, despite the mess.
carefully navigating through his organized mess, jake picked up some files he had brought home. they contained all the information he had gathered about the first three victims, and some more. he began flipping through the pages, wanting to find out anything else that might be relevant. anything important that he might have missed.
thing is, there were at least a dozen files in total. he hadn’t even gone through all of them yet, but still found quite a lot of useful information. although it was clearly not enough, since now they had in their hands the face of the killer, someone none of them recognized. which meant that this person didn’t belong to their town.
which made the questions arise: if according to previous clues, the killer is the child of a dead maid looking to avenge his mother, how come he is a face no one recognizes? how come he is in town, but hasn’t been spotted even once? other than when one eye witness accidentally spotted him?
questions, so many of them. yet their answers remained unknown. flipping through one of the files at the bottom of the stack, a hand recorded conversation caught his attention.
“i’m telling you right now officer, these new people in town are monsters, monsters i say!”
“that’s a serious accusation, sir. are you sure you’re not simply mistaken? news of your alzheimer’s has spread throughout the entire town, you know.”
“officer, you have to believe me! they killed a child! and hid away another! i heard them talking about it the other day! you must arrest them at once—who knows what else they are capable of?”
“mr. choi, i’m sure you’re mistaken. please go home and rest. make sure to take your medicine on time—i’ve heard you’re being quite stubborn while taking it?”
“fine, don’t believe me. but when these monsters do something worse, don’t tell me i didn’t warn you!”
given the date and time in the file, it wasn’t hard to estimate that the so-called ‘monsters’ mentioned in the file were the first three victims. especially since the fate of the two children mentioned there matched perfectly with the information he already found out.
he sighed, putting the files away. opening up his computer, he went back to the old articles about victoria. said articles were written by very small and unknown journalists, which was why they weren’t too popular—and consequently, very hard to find. scrolling through them, he quickly started becoming bored. they were all the same, nothing that he hadn’t already found out.
right as he was about to give up, a link to another article was provided in one of the comments under an article he had already read three times. clicking on the link, he was taken to a different tab, a different article on display.
this one apparently contained highly classified information, based on a conversation a reporter had with a servant of victoria, one who requested anonymity. skimming through it, a particular part caught his attention.
“—according to our source, victoria’s own child hadn’t actually died, and was in fact alive in the hospital. as the saying goes, walls have ears, our source having eavesdropped on victoria’s phone calls, figuring out exactly what happened to the kid. apparently her child fell into a coma, and was likely to forget everything upon waking up, as a trauma response. following which, victoria had secretly sent away her child to some other place to protect it from any future possible threats. meanwhile, the child of the maid she murdered, was sent away to an abusive foster home, presumably to die, since she didn’t want to get her hands dirty a second time. our source also mentioned that victoria had indeed succeeded in doing so, since she had delightedly shared the news of the child’s passing to her lover. our source also mentioned that–”
jake blanked out. the maid’s child was… dead? victoria’s own child was alive? what. the. fuck? that just made the case a shit ton more complicated than it already was.
looking back at his screen, he was about to scroll further, when suddenly a sharp pain struck the back of his head, accompanied with the dull sound of heavy metal colliding with something hard—in this case, his head.
he clutched the back of his head, his vision swimming. with difficulty, he tried turning around, only to be hit again. this time, he successfully passed out.
you had been staring at the ceiling for at least a couple of hours now. upon reaching home, you had immediately collapsed on the couch, staring up at the ceiling numbly. to think that heeseung was just… gone? it was too much to process, even after the autopsy had already been conducted.
your eyes burned, but you didn’t even have the energy to cry. to think that jungwon had probably killed heeseung before coming to your house and defiling you—and for you to have enjoyed it to a certain extent—it made you want to crawl out of your own skin.
speaking of which, your entire body felt itchy, dirty, disgusting—despite you having already showered in the morning. but maybe another shower was just what you needed, to get rid of his disgusting touch from your skin.
getting up, you headed to the bathroom. your clothes were drenched in sweat from the entire day’s activities, stripping them away and welcoming the cold air on your skin felt like heaven already.
turning up the water temperature, you let the tub fill half way, before stepping in. you instantly felt relieved, the tension leaving your muscles. picking up a bath bomb you had gotten earlier during the year on your birthday, you dropped it in the water, causing it to immediately explode, flooding the water. the smell was exceptionally relaxing, making you sigh and close your eyes, relaxing yourself further.
but you couldn’t relax for too long, since the sound of the door to the bathroom opening interrupted your calm. you sat up in horror, drawing your knees up to your chest.
it was jungwon.
he strolled in like he was taking a walk at the park, looking down at you with a smirk. “why do you look so surprised, pretty? i told you i was gonna come back.”
your hands shook from where they were shielding your chest. you stared up at him with terrified eyes. “why are you…?”
he raised a brow. “why am i here? i already told you, i was going to come back.”
you couldn’t breathe. now that you knew that he had killed heeseung, you felt a lot more terrified of him than before. “are you going to kill me as well?”
jungwon looked at you like you had grown a pair of horns atop your head. “kill you? god, no. of course not. why would i kill you?”
that reassured you. a little bit. “then…?”
he smirked, starting to pop open the buttons on his dress shirt one-by-one. “isn’t it obvious, beautiful?”
your eyes widened, as you quickly looked at your pants, which had your gun attached to the belt. if you were quick, you could reach it. but of course, jungwon wouldn’t let you do that.
“that wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, princess.” he said, making you snap your gaze back to him. his smirk never left, as he turned to look at the gun.
to your astonishment, and utter horror, it began floating, before flying across the bathroom, to the furthest corner. if you tried getting it now, jungwon would easily stop you. but the question remained: how the fuck did he make the gun levitate?
“wha—how?!”
jungwon chuckled. “there’s so many things you don’t know, ___”
he had already taken off all his clothes, going and sitting inside the bathtub with you. he leaned back casually, staring at you with a look that told you precisely all you needed to know—he had the upper hand over you, and there was nothing you could do about it.
he gestured to you with his hand. "come here princess."
you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. you drew your knees in closer, locking them in place with your hands around them.
his expression changed. "don't test my patience ___. come here while i'm still being nice."
you gulped, shaking your head again.
his expression hardened further. "i won't repeat myself again. come. here."
swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook your head again.
he sighed, giving you an almost disappointed look. "i didn't want to do this, really. but you leave me no choice."
you frowned, wondering what he was referring to. but he didn't let you wonder too much, as he flicked his wrist. with a gasp, you suddenly landed on his lap, your hands clumsily landing on his shoulders, aware of how your very bare lower halves were rubbing against each other.
you tried getting up, getting away from him, but his grip on your waist was tight. too tight. how the fuck was he so strong?
"don't bother trying princess. save your energy for later."
you let out a shuddering breath, helpless tears slipping down your face. "why are you doing this to me? what have i done to you?"
jungwon didn't answer. leaning forward, he licked a stripe up your cheek, the salty, yet invigorating taste of your defeat invading his taste buds. sometimes he felt sorry for you. truly, he did. you, as naive as you were, you had no idea about the truth. the truth which so very often threatened to rear its ugly head, threatening to ruin everything in a single slip up—the truth that everyone worked so hard to bury beneath the surface, with layers of nothing but blankets woven with lies. so yes, he felt sorry for you at times. but then he reminded himself why he started all of this in the first place.
but deep down, a part of him questioned it all: was it still revenge, or had it bent into something completely different?
you see, he hates you. hates you for something you were never actually a part of. any of… what had happened—but he still blamed you. how come you get to escape the aftermath of everything, but he doesn't? why was he the only one that had to suffer the consequences of something he never did? whereas you, another witness of the same goddamn crime gets to escape it all? why the discrimination?
was it simply because you were not as old as he was? was it because you couldn't comprehend what had actually happened? he tried, really did, to find reasons to excuse you. to let you off the hook. but perhaps there was more to it than he allowed himself to admit. more to the faux 'hate' he claimed to have in his heart for you. afterall, the strongest emotions to exist are often confused for one another.
but this was no time to contemplate such trivial things. right now, watching you fight your own body to try (and fail) to not fall apart in his hands was a lot more important. especially by making you initiate it yourself.
he pulled you closer to him, hugging your body to his, as he sucked at the spot under your jaw. one hand remained on your waist, the other further up your back. the position was intimate—it almost felt like the two of you were simply lovers getting carried away while bathing together—if it wasn't for your weak attempts at trying to push him away.
jungwon wanted to scoff at you. you weren't fooling anybody, if your pathetic attempts at muffling your moans were anything to go by. god, you were so easy. perhaps this was another reason he did what he was doing.
he pushed you further into him, letting go of your neck to kiss you instead. he wasn't being aggressive like you initially thought he would be. no, he was taking his time with you, kissing you slowly, sensually. almost like it was all consensual.
but god, with the way he made you feel, you might as well lean into it.
you didn't know when the water in the tub drained, but suddenly the pressure was off your lower halves. as you broke the kiss to breathe, you noticed the bottom unplugged. which meant the slipperiness where your cunt rubbed against his cock was because you were wet.
you wanted to blame it on jungwon. on your body for betraying you. for making you feel instead of grieving for your friend that was murdered. for making you enjoy being violated by the same guy that killed heeseung. anything to feel less guilty for doing what you were.
you didn't want to grind on him, you just… couldn't help yourself. he was making you feel like your entire body was on fire, electric shocks running up your spine every time he touched you. it was exhilarating. even if the voice in the back of your head screamed at you for betraying every one by letting yourself go.
but that was the thing, wasn't it? why shouldn't you be selfish for once? the entire circumstances were strange—the way you knew him, the things you knew he was capable of doing—all of it was strange. but none of it changed how real he made you feel.
so you allowed yourself to tilt your head back. to moan, to feel—because it might just be the last time you ever did.
jungwon grinded up into you, both feeling and seeing your initial hesitance melt away in real time, giving space for your real feelings to shine through. he had you right where he wanted, and he couldn't be more smug about it all.
holding your hips with both hands, he guided your movements, the sounds of your slick and your moans gradually taking over the entire space. if anything, it made his cock harder, twitching against your slick folds. god he wished he could just shove himself into you right fucking now—but that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it? he needed you to do it yourself. given how desperate you were getting, he was pretty sure you were getting way to close to doing so yourself.
true to his prediction, you let out the most pathetic whine he had ever had the pleasure of hearing from you, as you rocked your hips even more desperately over his. "please…"
jesus fucking christ. you really were desperate. "please what, angel?"
you let out another whine. "please—h-hah—fuck me?"
god, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, weren't you? "should i?"
you whimpered, your cunt practically throbbing from the lack of attention. you needed him to be inside you, or you were sure you would combust right there. so you lifted yourself up slightly, reaching one of your hands down to grab his twitching cock, clumsily lining him up to your folds, before sitting down, shoving him deep inside you. the 'splat' sound of your thighs slapping together echoing through the room.
the two of you let out collective moans, both of you a throbbing mess. you clenched, and unclenched around him, the wonderful feeling of finally being able to feel something so real while ignoring your conscience was… an experience to say the least. pressing your lips to his again, your hands found purchase on his shoulders. lifting yourself up, you dropped down again, his cock dragging across your gummy walls at the best possible angle.
jungwon gripped your waist—not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to guide your movements. he silently encouraged you to go faster, by bouncing you harder on top of him. your arousal dripped, and dripped, past his balls, wetting his thighs. the constant sound of your ass slapping against his balls filled the space, along with your your muffled moans.
you broke the kiss when your lungs started burning. jungwon focused on your neck instead, determined to fill the entire expanse with his marks. he trailed kisses across your jaw, sucking hickeys there too. his hickeys spread down to your collarbones, as his hands came up to grope your tits. sometimes his actions got a little too intense, causing you to clench down hard on him, which in turn caused him to twitch, small spurts of cum spilling into you. he wasn't embarrassed in the slightest, especially since it seemed to turn you on impossibly more.
your bouncing would slow down at times, but never coming to a full stop. sometimes you grinded onto him instead if it really became too much. but fuck, it was all too good to stop.
but all good things eventually come to an end. you were starting to feel overstimulated, your legs becoming sore as well, despite not being nearly close. fortunately for you, jungwon seemed to notice.
using one hand to support your waist, he used to other to rub light circles around your clit. when your moans started turning into whines, he pinched your engorged nub, before flicking on the sensitive bud. your nerve ending were already on fire, but he then started rubbing on it harshly, causing your moans to practically into screams.
you could feel your orgasm approaching steadily, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. when you felt it right on the tip of your tongue, jungwon started to shallowly thrust up into you. your orgasm crashed down on you like never before, your eyes rolling back till only the whites were visible. the gush of liquid pushed his cock out, but he pushed right back in, his own orgasm approaching quickly.
holding you in place, he pistoned his hips into you at an almost brutal pace, before making you sit flush on top of his cock, as he shot out ropes of warm cum straight into your cunt. your walls fluttered around him, your body slumping on his. you felt tired, so, so tired.
jungwon patted your head. it was ironic, how soft he was being with you, despite telling himself that this was all to punish you. since when had punishments felt almost like an act of love?
"sleep." he said, in this almost echoing voice. immediately, you were knocked out. he held your body close to his, staring down at the top of your head. he should kill you. it would be the right thing to do. you couldn't even defend yourself in this state. so what was stopping him?
was it his conscience? bullshit, he didn't have one. so why was he doing the opposite of what he originally planned?
he decided he didn't want to keep cuddling you like a lover while contemplating all this. so, he did what he thought was the best thing to do as of now. clean you up, put you to bed, and leave. silently. without leaving any traces of him ever being there in the first place. after all, leaving without a trace was something he excelled at.
anxiety gripped your heart like a vice, as you glared at jake's empty seat.
"officer ___, please, take a seat."
you shook your head. "where is jake? is he running late?"
chief kang didn't say anything, opting to stare at his lap.
you grew more and more frantic by the second. "he is running late, right? right?"
chief looked at you with sad eyes. "please, sit down." his voice was gentle, barely above a whisper.
you dropped to your seat with a thud, vision growing blurry. "no…"
chief sighed softly. "his landlord called us upon finding his limp body on his desk. the killer didn't bother with his usual theatrics this time, leaving the rose beside his head instead of laying him down like the other victims. there are visible injuries on his head as well. the autopsy has almost been finished by now."
your hands were shaky. "why wasn't i informed earlier?"
chief kang gave you an apologetic gaze. "you are already under a lot of pressure, i didn't want to add to it."
you looked at him with indignation, despite the tears running down your face. "i'm part of the force too! jake and heeseung were more than just my coworkers, they were my friends! i should have been the first person to be informed of this!"
chief nodded. "i understand dear, but please trust me when i say i did this out of good will. you have already done a lot, and i didn't want to work you up further."
you shook your head. "you don't understand, i–" a sudden thought struck you. you knew the killer. you have met him. despite the circumstances being strange, you should let the chief know, right? because… what if the next target is you? even if he said he wouldn't kill you? after all, why should you trust a killer, who also liked to play with you? both physically and psychologically?
so you did what you thought was best. "i… i know the killer. i have met him."
the chief's eyes widened in disbelief. "what?"
you shrank into your seat. "you don't believe me…"
the chief shook his head. "no no, of course i believe you. i was just surprised."
you took in a deep breath. "well—what i'm about to say now, that is something you may not believe. but i need you to understand that everything i will say is the truth and the truth only. i swear i will not lie or leave out any details whatsoever."
the chief nodded, giving you the green light to continue. swallowing the lump in your throat, you started speaking. you told him everything—every single dream, the full details of what happened, how the hickey manifested onto your neck outside of the dream, how he came to your house twice and forced himself onto you, how he literally levitated a gun and even you—every single detail.
when you finally finished, the chief was… shocked, to say the very least. "so statistically speaking… there is a chance that you're next."
you nodded. chief kang massaged his temples. "there is something we can do…" he looked at you with a very serious look in his eyes. "but you must be very discreet about it, understand?"
it was a lot later than usual when you finally reached your house. the silence in your house was nothing out of the ordinary, yet you felt a chill up your spine.
reaching your bedroom, you hesitated. your gut told you to run, run as far away as possible. but you ignored it, opening the door anyways.
as expected, jungwon was sitting on the bed. he was staring intently at a page in your sketchbook—presumably his own picture. he looked up at you, signature smirk back on his face. "you're late."
you swallowed the lump in your throat. "work." was all you said, your voice hollow.
he tilted his head. "are you unhappy about something?"
you stared at him, unblinking. "you killed two of my dear friends."
his smirk widened, but he didn't answer. looking back down at your sketchbook, he commented. "you're awfully talented. it's like staring at a mirror."
you clenched your fist, but forced yourself to remain calm. "what exactly is it that you want?"
jungwon looked up at you in surprise. "what do i want? why, i thought i had made it quite obvious from the very beginning?"
you frowned. sensing your confusion, jungwon offered. "you. it is you that i want. was it not obvious?"
you scoffed in surprise. "what?"
he let out a hum, getting up. he came and stood in front of you, hands behind his back. "why is it so hard to believe, princess?"
you shook your head, finding him ridiculous. "tormenting me through weird dreams, killing my friends, forcing yourself onto me multiple times—you did it all because you want me? what kind of a fucked up logic is that?"
he smirked again. "believe it or not, that's your choice. you asked me a question, and i merely answered it."
you glared at him. "in that case, i suppose you won't mind answering some more questions?"
he raised a brow. "shoot and find out."
so you began. "the first three victims—did you kill them because of revenge?"
"mhm."
"why? are you the son of the maid who victoria killed?"
jungwon scoffed. "my mother was no maid. she and victoria were childhood friends, and she went to visit her the day she died."
you frowned. so that meant some of the information you had was inaccurate. "how exactly did she die?"
he tilted his head. "i thought you already knew that victoria killed her. stabbed her with a knife."
you slowly nodded. "and you were there to witness it."
he nodded, so you continued. "why exactly did she kill her?"
his smirk returned. "you have noticed me doing things that seem… unusual, yes?"
you raised a brow. "you mean appearing in my dreams and levitating objects? then yes, i have."
his smirk widened. "my mother, in simple terms, was a witch. her abilities were something i inherited. victoria fought with my mother, because she was the only person who knew of her abilities. she threatened to reveal it to the public, if my mother didn't teach her how she did what she did."
"obviously she couldn't do so, since those powers could only be inherited. victoria, being a temperamental bitch, stabbed my mother over it. because victoria was a dear friend of hers, she couldn't defend herself, and the knife had struck a vital area, so she quickly stopped breathing. the servants had an inaccurate version of the whole ordeal since my mother created an illusion for them. she couldn't risk everyone finding out about her powers. but obviously the illusion didn't work on me, since that time my mind was pure. pure souls cannot be fooled by illusions."
you frowned. "what happened to you after all of it?"
he scoffed lightly. "they put me in an abusive foster house and paid them to kill me. but i killed them first, and mimicked their voices over the phone and told them that i was the one that died. fuckin' dumbasses believed it."
you blinked slowly, trying to wrap your head around it all. "how did you kill them? was it also using your… powers?"
he smirked. "only to an extent. i used a syringe to pump a few doses of insulin under their tongues. that's why they seemed to die of undiagnosed diabetes."
"what about the roses? what did they signify?"
he tilted his head, leaning down slightly. staring dead into your eyes, he spoke. "why, they symbolized you of course."
you blinked several times, staring at him in shock. "me?"
he raised a brow. "of course, rosie. they symbolize you."
you shook your head. "rosie?"
he stared at you, the look in his eyes causing your heart to practically thump out of your chest. "that's your name. don't you remember?"
you shook your head, stepping back. "what the fuck are you talking about right now?"
he took a step forward, towards you. "don't you remember? you were there when my mother was killed."
your eyes widened. "what?"
he took another step towards you. "she was killed by your mother, after all."
it was as if the entire world stopped. the air was knocked out of you, a dull ringing began in your ears. long back, when you bumped into victoria in the market, she had grabbed you and called you rosie.
rosie! oh my darling rose, i missed you…
an image flashed in front of your eyes. a colorful bedroom, a beautiful woman—your mom—sitting in front of you, gazing at you with the fondest smile, as she fed you neatly sliced and peeled apples. "say aaaah…"
the scene changed. your mother—victoria—arguing with a man. "look at her, she is just a baby! she doesn't deserve this! won't you come back for her sake?"
the scene changed. a different man, your father—seil—teaching you how to make paper airplanes. "and then you throw it into the wind, like that—good job!"
the scene changed again. your mother arguing with another woman. a boy few years older than you stood beside you, watching the scene beside you from the top of the stairs. suddenly, victoria charged at the unfamiliar woman with a knife, stabbing her.
blood splattered onto the floor. the shocked faces of both your mother and the woman imprinted into your brain, as your vision swam. as you fell, the boy looked at you in panic, trying to catch you, but failed. your head hit the ground, and you rolled down the stairs.
you snapped back to reality. jungwon was looming over you with a smirk. he glanced down at your necklace. "is that enough information for your backup, or do they need more?"
the chief looked at the rest of the officers sitting in the car, listening to everything from the tiny mic they had installed in your necklace. "now!"
the entire force burst out of the cars which were parked right outside your house, bursting into your house. the chief screamed into his loud speaker. "you have been surrounded from all sides! do not try to run, or harm ms. ___, as it will only earn you a graver sentence."
there was silence from the microphone on your necklace. having a bad feeling about it, the chief hastily burst into your room, the rest of the force following him.
it was empty. not a single trace of anyone being there. no open windows either. ordering the force to search the entire house, he went towards the bed. your sketchbook lay there, pages flipping due to the wind from the fan.
picking it up, he flipped through them himself. he expected the last sketch to be of jungwon, but he was wrong. squinting, he stared at the last sketch. it was of you, a terrified expression on your face. a small rose was drawn next to your face. on the bottom, a small message was inscribed.
'the beauty of some roses never fade, even after death.'
ᦸ 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽!𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇🧁 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 1.2k ⠀˃̵ᴗ˂̵⠀ first times NSFW praise kink oral (m recieivng)ㅤ reblogs&kisses
The summer air was thick and sticky in Sunghoon’s cramped bedroom, the only sound the hum of an old floor fan. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, a look of pure frustration etched on his handsome face. You sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against his dresser, trying to keep your expression neutral.
“It’s just… awkward,” he mumbled, not meeting your eyes. “Every time it gets to that point, I freeze up. I don’t know what to do with it.” A faint blush crept up his neck. You’d been friends since middle school, had shared every secret, but this was new territory. You took a steadying breath, the unspoken truth hanging between you. Of course you’d noticed; it was hard not to when he walked out of the shower with just a towel slung low on his hips. His sheer size was intimidating, even from a purely observational standpoint.
“Okay,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “We’re just problem-solving. Like we always do.” You pushed yourself up from the floor and sat beside him on the bed, the worn mattress dipping under your combined weight. The space between you felt charged, the humid air clinging to your skin. “First, we remove the mystery.” You kept your gaze on his face, on the nervous flicker in his dark eyes. “Let me see.”
Sunghoon exhaled sharply, a mixture of relief and fresh anxiety. His fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, the sound loud in the quiet room. When he finally pushed the denim down his hips, the reality of him was even more staggering than the glimpses you’d stolen. He was thick and long, fully hard already, the tip flushed a deep red. He looked painfully earnest and completely lost. “See?” he whispered, his voice rough. “It’s… a lot.”
“It is,” you agreed softly, not touching him yet. You took his wrist and guided his hand to himself. “Get used to the feel of it.” You coached him through a slow, tentative stroke, your hand over his. His breath hitched, a soft groan escaping him. “That’s it. No rush. Just get used to the sensation, to being in control of it.”
You let go, allowing him to continue on his own, watching the concentration on his face shift from panic to a dazed sort of focus. After a few moments, his rhythm faltered. “It’s not… I can’t just do this by myself forever,” he said, frustration creeping back in. He looked at you, a silent, desperate question in his eyes.
“Then don’t,” you murmured. You shifted closer, your thigh pressing against his. With deliberate slowness, you reached out and replaced his hand with your own. The first full touch of your skin on him made him jerk, a strangled sound catching in his throat. He was impossibly smooth and hard, the vein along the underside pulsing under your thumb. You began to move your hand up and down in a firm, measured pace, your eyes locked on his.
A sheen of sweat coated his forehead. His hands gripped the bedsheet, knuckles white. “What… what about with someone else?” he managed to ask, his gaze dropping to where your hand worked him.
“That’s next,” you said, your own pulse thrumming. You leaned in, your breath ghosting over the wet head of his cock. “You have to learn where it’s most sensitive.” You touched your tongue to the slit, tasting the salty pre-come there. Sunghoon cried out, his back arching off the bed. “Here,” you said before taking him into your mouth, as much as you could manage. It was a stretch, your jaw aching instantly, but you hollowed your cheeks and sucked, using your hand on the base he couldn’t fit. His moans became broken, pleading things. You pulled off with a wet pop. “See? Responsive. You just have to listen.”
You crawled up his body, settling over his hips. The damp heat of your own need pressed against the thin barrier of your shorts, meeting the solid, insistent pressure of him. You guided him with your hand, positioning him right where you ached. "This is the part that usually makes people nervous," you said, your voice low. "It’s okay to go slow." You kept your eyes on his as you began to lower yourself, taking just the broad head of him inside. A sharp, full sensation made you pause, breathing through it. He’s not going to fit.
Sunghoon's hands flew to your hips, his grip instinctive but gentle. His eyes were wide, watching where you were joined. "Okay?" he breathed out, the word strained.
"Okay," you confirmed, sinking down another inch. The stretch was intense, a burning fullness that forced a low moan from your throat. You moved in a careful, rocking rhythm, letting your body adjust to the overwhelming size of him. His hips twitched upward, seeking more, but you placed a firm hand on his stomach. "Not yet. Let me lead."
You continued the slow, grinding descent until he was fully seated inside you, a feeling of being utterly filled. I’m full. Completely full. You stayed there, unmoving, letting the sensation settle for both of you. His chest was heaving, every muscle in his abdomen taut. "Now," you whispered, beginning to move in earnest. You rose until only the tip remained, then sank back down, setting a deep, rolling pace. His hands tightened on your hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he matched your rhythm, his own thrusts growing more confident, more demanding.
A low, ragged moan tore from your throat as he hit a spot deep inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids. His confidence was growing with every thrust, his movements losing their initial hesitation and gaining a raw, powerful rhythm. You braced your hands on his sweat-slicked chest, riding him with a desperate intensity now, each descent a deliberate surrender to that overwhelming fullness. The stretch had become a burning pleasure, a constant, throbbing reminder of his size that was tipping you toward the edge. You could feel your own climax coiling tight in your belly, triggered by the relentless, deep friction.
Sunghoon’s breathing was coming in harsh gasps, his eyes glazed and fixed on you. His hands slid from your hips to grip the backs of your thighs, holding you open, controlling the depth of his plunges. "Tell me," he grunted, the words strained. His voice was rough with a newfound authority. "Tell me if it's right."
Before you could form a coherent sentence, your orgasm crashed over you, a violent, clenching wave that ripped a cry from your lips. Your body clamped down around him, milking his length in rhythmic pulses. That sensation tipped him over the edge. With a choked-off shout, he drove up into you one final, searing time and held there, his release flooding you.
You collapsed forward, your forehead resting against his collarbone, both of you slick with sweat and utterly spent, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against your ear. His arms came around you, holding you close in the sticky silence. “So,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet and a bit rough. “Best friends still?”
୨୧ from ♡ 𝑘𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑎𓏼⑅ ♥︎ ୧
inspired by this fic by wonxee and my comment lol big dick hoon agenda is reallllll + this layout is inspired by katsuiki
MATING: F.Reader x ot13
PACK MEETING: The House Rules are made to make the pack function - they're vital to a pack this size, and everyone loves the House Rules. Especially you, the single omega in the entire pack, who the House Rules are designed entirely around.
FRIDGE NOTES: This collection functions as an interactive piece between myself and readers. Every chapter posted of this universe will be a request from you - the reader. Readers who would like a chapter of this written will fill out the request form, and that will serve as the framework for me to write a chapter. This collection is not meant to have a plot or overarching theme - it's entire purpose is to write smut, fluff, angst - whatever you, as the requester, wants, so long as it makes general sense to the pre-established universe where all of seventeen and reader function as an established back that live together!
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It may contain explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
PACK WARNINGS: Some chapters may contain smut. All chapters will be warned appropriately.
PACK SCHDULE: This series has no schedule. I fill requests as I can and this only gets updated if I have requests! This series also has no scheduled end - requests will remain open until I no longer want to work on the fic.
REQUEST RULES:
☼ In general, ensure your requests are reasonable.
☼ Requests must be within this initial concept of the pack together in a shared omegaverse. Requests outside of this concept will be deleted.
☼ I will fill requests at my own pace.
☼ Not all requests may be filled, either because they are duplicates, may make me uncomfortable, may not make sense to the overall work, or because there is something about them that doesn't work.
☼ You may not change the pre-assigned sub-gender of a member in your request
☼ Your request shouldn't force me to ret-con or backtrack/negate something already posted
REQUEST FORM: Request here
THE HOUSE RULES:
1. The omega is never allowed to eat alone unless she asks to - SEUNGCHEOL
2. If she falls asleep on you, carry her to bed. No exceptions - MINGYU
3. Nobody leaves for long amounts of time without scenting her goodbye - JEONGHAN
4. Her nest is neutral territory. Arguments end at the door - JOSHUA
5. If the omega asks anything during heat, the answer is always yes - THE PACK
6. No one is allowed to make her cry and leave the room afterward - WONWOO
7. If she steals your clothes, they belong to her now - MINGYU
8. The omega is not permitted to carry heavy things while alphas are present - MINGHAO
9. Whoever wakes her up is responsible for dealing with the consequences - VERNON
10. Use the omega as you please, but respect is mandatory - THE PACK
11. The omega is not allowed to beg and then act surprised when someone gives in - SEUNGKWAN
12. If she wanders into an alpha’s room after midnight, she knows exactly what she’s doing - SEOKMIN
13. The omega is not allowed to start things in shared spaces and then complain about being watched - JUNHUI
14. If she’s whining, someone should probably handle it - CHAN
15. The omega is not allowed to say “I’m fine” without at least one person investigating immediately - JIHOON
16. Arguments about whose turn it is to use her next must be resolved by rock paper scissors - SOONYOUNG
MEET THE ALPHAS: Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Junhui, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Minghao
MEET THE BETAS: Joshua, Wonwoo, Jihoon, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Vernon, Chan
PAIRING: F.Reader x ot13
PACK MEMBER FOCUS: Junhui and Joshua
PACK MEETING: Joshua has never helped you through your heat before. Thankfully, Junhui is a pro.
REQUESTED BY: @joshujinREQUEST: jun teaches joshua how to take care of reader during a heat bc he's a nervy beta. jun probably also calms joshua down with some super gay kisses idk tho. if any of this doesn't align with how you're planning on characterizing them tho then just do whatever ily!!!
GENRE: Fluff, smut
AU: Omegaverse
WC: 4448
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It may contain explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
PACK WARNINGS: This has no plot. The plot is sex. Some hormone talk, reader is needy, some mild dom/sub dynamics via junhui being an alpha, joshua a beta, and reader an omega, threesome, nipple play, lots of kissing, lots of senses and feelings and shit, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving) vaginal fingering, lots of spit and slick, some mild biting, scenting, boys kissing because we love polyamory in my house, pet names, lots of praise, praise kinks implied, heat dynamics, nervous joshua... um i think thats it
SMUT NOTICE: This chapter is centered around smut and shout be skipped if you don’t like reading smut - it makes little sense to read without.
A/N: Actually shot out to @haologram for helping me narrow down what chapter to fill next. We are not sorry Trixiana Grande. You will live <3
A/N 2: As usual this is not beta read this because I’m impatient and just wanna post these as I finish writing them.
HOUSE RULES M. LIST | MAIN M. LIST | ASK
YOUR HEAT BURNS THROUGH YOU LIKE A LIVING THING, TURNING YOUR INSIDES INTO LIVING HELL. Your skin feels too tight, pulling at the edges and cleaning to the sheets beneath you, the sticky surface of your body covered in a thin sheen of perpetual sweat. The only source of relief is Junhui's callused hand moving down your side, his light touch grounding. You shiver as his fingers graze your ribs, your stomach, your thighs, each point of contact only ramping up the furnace under your skin.
You whimper, unable to stop the sound from crawling up the back of your throat. You squeeze your thighs together, the ache so intense that you feel like the room is spinning - or maybe it is, you can't be sure, though it doesn't seem entirely likely.
"I know," Junhui coos, squeezing your thigh a little. "I've got you, baby."
Junhui’s face is close to yours - close enough that you can count each one of his dark, silky eye lashes. He’s pretty like this, his blonde hair falling across his forehead, slightly damp from the shower he’d taken with you earlier that morning. Your eyes trace the careful curve of his lips, landing on your favorite mole just above his pink upper lip.
Junhui's scent wraps around you then, purposeful and warm to steady your pounding heart and elevated anxiety. He smells like cedar and the black tea he likes to drink in the morning, your brain fracturing a little through the haze of your heat at the familiarity of it.
The bed dips slightly and you glance toward the new weight, suddenly aware of Joshua. He sits with his legs folded beneath him, his dark eyes wide as saucers, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his gaze darts between you and Junhui. He’s pretty even when he’s nervous, the softness of his face easing you with the sharpness of Junhui. His fingers twist in the sheets like he's unsure what to do with his hands, dark hair a little disheveled from running his hands through it too many times.
Junhui notices it too. Of course he does - he's an alpha. Though he's not the head alpha of this pack, there is very little that Junhui doesn't notice, and right now he's reaching for Joshua gently, an encouraging smile on his face.
"Shua," he murmurs. "Come here."
The beta only hesitates for a moment. You watch him with heavy eyes as he slides closer, the mattress shifting. It jostles you a little and you whine, but Junhui tuts at you gently, his other hand reaching to help Joshua settle near you. You immediately lean toward him, sliding your head across the bed to press it near his knee.
"She needs you," Junhui tells him. His hand restarts tracing patterns on your thigh and you nod, agreeing with him. You do need Joshua - desperately. "I'll show you, yeah?"
"I don't want to hurt her."
"You won't," Junhui assures him. "Like this."
Junhui slides his hand from your leg back up your body until he's cupping the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your scent gland. You shudder, feeling your heart flutter as your eyes go unfocused for a second. For a moment, all you can sense is Junhui's thumb against you, not quite scenting you but enough contact to make you press your forehead to Joshua's knee, panting.
"Touch her like this on the other side," Junhui murmurs. "She likes a thumb on her scent gland. You don't have to press. Just put some light pressure."
Joshua follows Junhui's lead, reading a hand to cup the back of your neck and tilt your head up. You look up at him, the light coming in from the window blinding you for a second until his face swims into focus. Joshua is pretty, the slope of his nose perfect and his full lips curling into a smile as his thumb swipes back and forth against your scent gland, making you trill.
It feels good, cedar and juniper twisting together as they settle on either side of you, the weight of them on the mattress making you sink further, their knees brushing your sides. You turn toward Joshua, seeking the calm balance of his cool palm and juniper scent while Junhui's warm cedar presses in.
"You're so warm," Joshua whispers.
"Heat," you croak. "Very hot."
Junhui chuckles. "Everything will be more intense for her right now." His fingers leave your neck to card through your hair, his nails scratching bluntly against your scalp. You melt into it with a soft sound and Joshua smiles down at you. "See? She reacts well. She'll tell you what she needs."
"Touch me," you beg, looking at Joshua through your lashes. "Please."
Joshua complies, his hand sliding down your arm slowly. The slow drag of his fingers over your skin feels like heaven, your eyes rolling back as you lose yourself to the touch. You feel yourself melt into the bed, his touch growing more confident until he's lacing his fingers with yours. You immediately give them a squeeze and he squeezes back, and when you glance at him again, you see the way he's softened a little, happy to be close to you.
"Kiss her," Junhui hums. "She likes that."
Joshua glances down at you and you nod eagerly, sliding up the bed a little to give him room. Hand still wrapped in yours, he leans down to brush his lips against yours. They're soft and questioning at first, barely more than a brush of lips until you make a desperate sound against him and surge forward, kissing him properly.
He complies, deepening the kiss as he lets go of your hand to cradle your head, angling your face toward him. His tongue presses the seam of your lips and you open up for him immediately, the warmth of his mouth and tongue inviting. He tastes like honey and something else sweet and addicting, your own hands coming up to pull him closer.
Kissing Joshua is different from kissing Junhui. Despite Junhui's steady and calm nature, he can be demanding, his kisses severe and consuming. This isn't that. This a languid press of mouths, the soft sweeping of Joshua's tongue along the ridge of your teeth, the bumping of his nose into yours until he's pulling away to catch his breath.
"Perfect," Junhui says quietly. "See how much she needs you?"
Joshua nods, resting his forehead against yours. His pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the warm brown of his irises. His lips are pretty and pink, a little swollen from kissing you and you smile, leaning forward to steal another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently. He laughs into your mouth, letting you steal as much of him as you want, your hunger insatiable.
When you pull back again, his eyes are still closed, his breathing heavier. "Tell me what to do, baby. What do you want?"
The words get stuck in your throat. Cedar and juniper clash in your thoughts, your body locked in the heat so fully that Joshua's words turn to a tangled mess when you try to process them, a frustrated sound working its way up your throat.
"Touch her," Junhui answers for you, sensing the frustration. "Sometimes she struggles to communicate. Just go with the flow and don't worry about being wrong. Your instincts know what to do."
Nodding, Joshua slides his hand from your face down your neck, his fingers lingering over the rapid flutter of your pulse before he drags them to your collarbone, lightly tracing the indents of Soonyoung's teeth from the night before. You arch into his touch, chasing it - craving it - and he makes a small sound of surprise, like he can't believe you need him this much.
"Good." Junhui's hand settles on your waist, keeping you anchored to the bed. "See how she responds? Keep doing."
Joshua listens to the alpha, his touch growing bolder. He leans down and kisses you again, deeper and hungrier and you let it consume you. His hand traces the curves of your body, his fingers curling slightly to drag the blunt edge of his nails down your hips. You moan into his mouth and he moans back, the sound of his despair echoed so acutely that it makes your thoughts turn cottony and thick, sticking together as you shiver.
"Please," you beg, your voice wrecked. "Please."
"Easy, baby," Junhui soothes, bending down to kiss your temple. His own hand slides down to your thigh where he grips you and opens you up, cool air hitting your soaked cunt. "Shua's going to take care of you. Aren't you Shua?"
"Yes," Joshua says, and his voice has dropped, gone rough around the edges in a way you've never heard before.
He kisses down your jaw and your throat, his lips soft, tongue darting out to taste you. You squirm but Junhui keeps you pinned, his hand on your hip and tight as Joshua's mouth finds the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. He runs the flat of his tongue across the delicate skin there and you cry out as Junhui chuckles. You feel Joshua grin against your skin as he lingers there, sucking at your neck gently, the sensation shooting right through you and turning the pit of your stomach molten.
"Perfect," Junhui murmurs. He lifts the hand off your hip to press Joshua's shoulder. "Lower."
Joshua works his way down your body with his lips, tongue and teeth, each press of his mouth both a burn and balm. His mouth is hot against your sternum, your ribs, the soft skin of your stomach, each kiss like a brand. He's careful as he shifts down the bed and you feel your stomach flip when Junhui pries your legs wider while Joshua slides to his knees at the edge of the bed.
Junhui follows him down, moving to kneel behind Joshua. He wraps himself around Joshua's back, chest pressed close enough that he can hook his chin over Joshua's shoulder so he can murmur directly into the beta's ear. You can see the way Joshua relaxes slightly into Junhui's presence, leaning back into the alpha, turning to press his forehead against Junhui's neck briefly as he breathes him in.
"Start slow," Junhui murmurs, lips dragging against the shell of Joshua's ear. You stare at them between your legs, watching as Junhui's eyes drag up to yours, pupils blown and hungry. He reaches around Joshua, caging him in as he places his hands on your knees, spreading you wider. "She's sensitive, so anything you do will feel overwhelming. I recommend soft licks."
Nodding, Joshua leans forward, his breath ghosting across your inner thigh as he settles close. Your thighs twitch but his grip is firm, keeping you open for Joshua's hungry gaze.
You forget how to breathe, watching as your heart flutters like a humming bird trapped in a cage. Joshua follows Junhui's instructions exactly, dragging his tongue slowly and deliberately through your sticky folds. The sensation punches right through you, your back arching off the bed as a broken sound escapes you, voice cracking. Junhui's hands tighten on our knees, keeping you in place as Joshua's tongue circles your swollen clit.
"Take your time." Junhui nips Joshua's ear playfully and the beta moans, the sound vibrating through you. You twist your hips, the sensation overwhelming. "Hmm. She liked that."
Joshua nods, humming again. Your lashes flutter, heading pushing back into the mattress as his tongue works in long, slow strokes, occasionally using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp before he dips back down to tease your aching hole. It makes the heat in your blood sing, his mouth soft and warm and wet and fuck.
"Suck gently," Junhui recommends. "That makes her lose it."
"Yeah?" Joshua asks, panting as he pulls away and looks up at you. His eyes are completely blown, lips glossy with your slick. He looks debauched, so different from the polished beta who likes to make you scones on Sundays. "Let me try."
Joshua's lips close around your clit and he sucks gently. The sensation is so intense you nearly sob, your hands coming up to hide your face as your entire body goes tight. He smiles against you, laughing a little as he fastens his mouth to your pussy, sucking in gentle tugs that make your entire bed spin on its axis while Junhui's thumbs stroke small circles on the inside of your knees.
"You're doing so good," Junhui whispers. "I bet she feels so good."
Joshua pulls back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark and hazy, his lips and chin glistening. The sight of him on his knees with Junhui wrapped around him makes something in your chest crack open, your heart stopping and starting all over again as Joshua smirks and dives back in, confident and hungry.
"Tastes so fucking good," he mumbles, nose bumping your clit. "Could do this all the time."
"Let me taste," Junhui says and leans over Joshua's shoulder.
Joshua turns to face Junhui, letting the alpha steal a wet kiss that's all tongue. You stare, watching as Joshua submits easily to Junhui as the alpha sucks the taste of you right off Joshua's tongue. When they pull apart, Joshua is a little breathless as Junhui grins and glances at you, tongue swiping across the bottom of his lip.
"Delicious."
Junhui pushes Joshua's head forward then and the beta follows right back to your pussy, his tongue finding a rhythm that is slow and devastating, swapping back and forth between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit as he traces patterns that make you writhe.
You feel Joshua's hand slide up your thigh, guided by Junhui's grip on his wrist as he tentatively presses a finger into your wet heat. You gasp, feeling the stretch combined with the flutter of his tongue stealing the breath from your lungs. He curls his finger exactly as Junhui instructs, pressing against your front wall so that you see stars, cursing up at the ceiling as he drags you toward an orgasm.
His tongue works your clit in steady, rhythmic circles while his finger moves inside you, and the dual sensation builds and builds until you're lost in it, suspended in the feeling of an orgasm that waits and waits and waits until it finally breaks and rushes in.
You come hard, your pleasure suddenly having no start or end but a looping, endless twitching of thighs and clenching walls. You grit your teeth, unable to breathe for a few seconds until you finally gasp for air, body loosening slightly. Joshua's mouth is still on you but it's soft now, his tongue soothing and avoiding your clit, finger pressed deep as he sucks at you messily, making little sounds of enjoyment as he does.
"She's so fucking pretty when she comes," Junhui groans. "Fuck."
Joshua pulls back slowly, his lips and chin glistening, eyes dark and hazy as he looks up at you. His lips curl upward, pupils dilated as he presses slick-wet kisses to the sides of your thighs, leaving shiny marks as he goes. Junhui's hands leave your knees, your legs trembling a little as you let them fall open, your muscles turning to jelly.
Junhui reaches for Joshua. "Come here."
Joshua rises on shaky knees and Junhu catches him before he loses his balance, cupping the back of his neck to pull him to his feet and into a kiss. It's slow and deep, and you watch with your heart beating and fingers twisting into the sheets as Junhui gets a taste of you from Joshua's lips before pulling back. He wipes his thumb across Joshua's bottom lip and pops it into his mouth, humming.
"Tastes good." Junhui looks at you and his gaze darkens. "She needs more of you, Shua."
Joshua nods. "I want to give more."
"Slow," Junhui says, dropping his hands to the hem of Joshua's shirt to pull it over his head. The beta shivers and nods, a little dazed as Junhui's nibble fingers pull at the strings on Joshua's sweatpants next. "Slow and deep. She likes hard and fast the first day of heat - that's what Soonyoung took care of last night. Today we just need her to feel it."
Joshua nods, kicking off his sweatpants to crawl onto the bed, shuffling on his knees. You mouth waters at the sight of him, all tan and smooth from summer days spent at the pool, broad at the shoulder and perfectly tapered in the waist. His cock is heavy, the tip swollen with need as he makes a sound in the back of his throat when you reach for him.
He lets you grab his hands, pulling him down for a kiss that tastes like you. You don't mind, sliding your hands through his sweaty hair, nails dragging down the nape of his neck as he hums, pleased. The smell of him calms you down, pheromones soothing and making you sigh into the kiss, melting back into a state of calm as he settles between your legs.
Junhui shifts on the bed then, momentarily distracting you as you break away from Joshua's kiss. Junhui is kneeling on the bed, blonde hair disheveled in the low light. He's stripped down to his sweats, the hard planes of his stomach twitching as he crawls over, his dark eyes fixated on you. His shoulders are just as broad as the beta between your legs, but there's a predatory grace to the way that Junhui moves that makes him sharper.
Joshua makes room for him, sitting up on his knees as he pries you open further at the knees, your thighs stretching in protest. Cool air hits your cunt and you whine, but Joshua shuts you up as he rubs the fat head of his cock against your slick entrance, pressing just enough to stretch you but not enough to slide past. You let out a pathetic noise and he grins until Junhui growls.
"Don't tease her," the alpha warns.
Joshua goes pink in the cheeks, nodding. "Sorry."
Junhui huffs, bending down to cup your face and turn you toward him for a soft kiss. You preen under his affection, leaning toward him to kiss him back eagerly. He laughs, the sound buzzing through your lips and making your head spin as his tongue slides against yours just as Joshua grips your hips and presses his cock into your heat.
It's slow, but it steals your breath away anyway. You gasp against Junhui's mouth, breaking the kiss to glance at where Joshua is focused on sliding home, head ducked down to watch his cock disappear inside of you, his shoulders slick with sweat.
"Fuck," you hiss and Junhui smiles, placing wet kisses against your temple, teeth scraping lightly. "Feels so fucking good."
"Mhmm," Junhui agrees. His lips move to your jaw, sucking the skin there lightly before he licks down to your throat, tongue dancing around your scent gland. You go blank for a minute, vision whiting out until Joshua is pressed in to the hilt. "You're doing so good, baby. So perfect for Shua."
Joshua trembles slightly, tension thrumming through him as he fights to control himself. Where an alpha might start slamming into you, Joshua waits, the stretch and pressure of him pressing against your walls so good that you clench around him on instinct, making him let out a broken laugh.
"So tight, baby," he gasps. "So good."
Junhui hums in agreement, his kisses trailing to your collarbones. "Move now. Long, deep strokes."
Joshua listens, withdrawing slowly so that the drag of him against your walls makes you cry out. He pushes in just as deliberately, snapping his hips so the stroke is deep. It punches the breath from your lungs and you grab onto Junhui, who doesn't mind, letting you dig your nails into his arms and hands as he lavishes attention to the swells of your chest.
The rhythm Joshua sets is torturous, each stroke deep and measured that forces you to feel every inch of him, hitting that spot inside of you that has you mumbling his name, head falling to the side while your legs lock around his hip, keeping him going.
Junhui's hands on your body makes the pleasure spike, his palms sliding up your ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts before cupping them gently, thumbs flicking over your nipples. You arch into his touch, moaning brokenly, overwhelmed by the feeling of both of them, their skin warm and scents tangled.
Long gone is the ache in your stomach, replaced only by swelling heat and pressure. Long gone is the too-tight skin and the feverish need to be touched, replaced by Junhui's hands and his warm mouth closing around a nipple, sucking and flicking with his tongue until you're nearly sobbing, hands tangling in his damp hair.
"So pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Look at you taking Joshua so well. Does it feel good, baby? Does he fill you up the way you need/"
"Yes," you whine. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."
Joshua's pace stays steady and unhurried, each thrust making you tighten around him. You can feel how wet you are, slick dripping down the curve of your ass as he picks up his pace a little, feeling the way your orgasm is building, knowing you need to reach it. He grinds into you at the end of each stroke, hitting it just right that your vision starts to blur.
Junhui kisses up your chest, along your throat, finding your mouth again. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, tongue sliding against yours in a lazy rhythm that mirrors Joshua's strokes. Being between them is overwhelming - Junhui's mouth on yours, his hands on your skin, Joshua buried deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist.
"Shua." Joshua looks up, his hair sticking to his forehead as Junhui leans toward him. "Come here."
Joshua leans forward, still moving inside you, and Junhui catches him in a kiss. You watch through hazy eyes as they kiss above you, Junhui's hand cupping Joshua's jaw, guiding him. The sight of it makes you clench around Joshua and he moans into Junhui's mouth, making the alpha grin.
"She likes to watch," Junhui pants against Joshua's mouth. "Likes knowing how everyone belongs to one another." Junhui's hand slides down Joshua's chest to his hips where he squeezes. "Angle up. She needs it right here."
Joshua adjusts, his hands sliding under your thighs to lift them higher, and when he pushes in again the angle is devastating. He hits that spot inside you dead-on and you nearly scream, your whole body arching up off the bed.
"Dead on," Junhui says with a grin. He leans down again, his mouth finding your ear. "Feel that, baby? Feel how deep he is? He's going to take such good care of you. Going to fuck you slow and perfect until you come so hard."
"You're so wet," Joshua groans, his voice strained. "Fuck I don't know how to last."
"That's the heat," Junhui murmurs against your throat. "You can pick up pace. She's close. She's so good for you, yeah? Pretty little omega."
"Fuck yeah."
The praise makes you whimper, makes fresh slickness coat Joshua's cock in response, their approval making your body sing. Junhui kisses you again, deep and consuming, and you lose yourself in it until you feel Junhui's hands slide down between where Joshua fucks you, his fingers finding your clit. His touch is light, but combined with Joshua's relentless pace, it's enough to tilt you over.
Your orgasm hits you hard and you come with a strangled noise, body jerking upward as Junhui holds you down. Your hand clutch at Junhui's shoulders, nails digging into his skin and sliding down his arms. He doesn't mind, letting out a pleased sound as he and Joshua work you through your orgasm in tandem.
Joshua groans above you, his rhythm faltering as you clench around him. "Oh fuck- I can't-"
"Come for her," Junhui says softly, and it's permission and command all at once.
Joshua's hips stutter forward one more time, burying himself as deep as he can go, and then he's coming with a broken moan. You feel the pulse of him inside you, the warmth flooding your core, and it draws another aftershock from your own orgasm. His whole body trembles, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and the sounds he makes send you soaring, your omega preening at the way your beta loses control for you.
The three of you collapse together in a tangle of limbs and sweat-slick skin, Joshua slumping forward and catching himself on his forearms to avoid crushing you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath comes in hot, ragged pants against your throat as Junhui shifts beside you, one arm sliding you to the side so Joshua can pull out and collapse next to you.
Joshua stays glued to your side, his legs tangled with yours as your joint fluids drip down your thigh. You ignore it, knowing Junhui will deal with it later like he's supposed to. For now, Junhui flops down next to you so you're pinned between them, and reaches over to run his hand down the back of Joshua's neck.
You turn your head to nuzzle into Junhui's chest, breathing him in, while Joshua presses soft kisses to your shoulder. Your heat has quieted to a low simmer, temporarily sated, and in its absence you feel the bone-deep exhaustion and the overwhelming desire to sleep right here between the two of them.
"You did good," Junhui tells Joshua, voice rough.
You feel Joshua's smile against your shoulder. "She's incredible. Both of you."
Turning to face him, you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging him down for a slow, sweet kiss. When you pull back, Junhui is watching you both with dark, intent eyes. Something shifts in the air - a change in the sharpness to his scent and face that makes your pulse quicken.
Junhui leans in, his hand sliding into your hair to angle your face toward him, and when he kisses you, it's deep and possessive, his tongue claiming as he pulls away with a sharp bite to your lower lip that makes you whimper.
PAIRING: F.Reader x ot13
PACK MEMBER FOCUS: Soonyoung
PACK MEETING: Soonyoung is an irritable mess and no one can figure it out until he wanders in your room in the middle of the night.
REQUESTED BY: ANON
REQUEST: soonyoung got his rut earlier than expected and everyone has been wondering why hes so snappy these days, and it was answered when soonyoung goes to the omega’s room and yeah u know it lol
GENRE: Fluff, smut, mild angst
AU: Omegaverse
WC: 9,867
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It may contain explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
PACK WARNINGS: Some mild angst and fighting among members, Soonyoung is picking fights with everyone that are petty and stupid, lots of frustration, a single moment between Soonyoung and Mingyu where Soonyoung almost turns things physical but reader diffuses, some awkwardness because reader is still relatively new to the pack, lots of hormones and body chemistry, Soonyoung having some anxiety about spending a rut with reader, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected sex, mild biting, some scenting, teasing, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, very very light dirty talk, Soonyoung being possessive, and a moment of Soonyoung being territorial to another member at the end briefly.
SMUT NOTICE: This chapter is centered around smut and shout be skipped if you don't like reading smut - it makes little sense to read without.
A/N: This does not lean into rut dynamics a ton nor does it lean toooo heavily into omegaverse smut dynamics because I wanted to lean into the idea that this is the first time since reader has joined the pack that she's helping with someone's rut and thus the dynamic is entirely different and slower/more personal than it typically would be among seasoned rut partners.
A/N 2: As usual this is not beta read this because I'm impatient and just wanna post these as I finish writing them. Also Hali stick to under 5k challenge failed again.
HOUSE RULES M. LIST | MAIN M. LIST | ASK
SOONYOUNG IS AN EASY ALPHA TO READ. As someone who wears his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face, you rarely have a problem reading him now that you know him well enough. Plus, whatever isn't on his face or in his tone is usually coming directly from the source himself, never the one to shy away from communicating exactly what he thinks of something.
So it's unusual when you realize on a Friday afternoon that something is wrong with Soonyoung but you don't quite know what that something is.
The sun is slanting through the western windows of the house, turning the floors honey-warm and catching the dust motes floating lazily through the air. You're curled into the corner of the sectional - a spot that has become yours over the last few weeks - with a book in your lap. It's some novel that Wonwoo recommended and that you're half paying attention to because Mingyu keeps singing off-key in the kitchen where he's baking and because there's base thrumming from Jihoon's studio basement, vibrating up through the couch into your spine.
It's the kind of afternoon that's calm but doesn't exactly leave space for reading, especially when Chan flops down on the couch next to you, immediately pushing into your side to nuzzle close and lay his head in your lap.
"Hi," he sighs dreamily, tilting his head back to look up at you. "This okay?"
You grin, running your fingers through his hair. "Of course it is."
He nearly purrs under your touch, melting into your lap as he settles, his dark hair soft against your fingers as he gets comfortable with one arm draped over his stomach and the other hanging off the edge of the couch. He smells like the laundry detergent the pack uses, warm and clean and the distinct lavender and sea salt smell that is so him.
Putting the book down, you continue to stroke his hair, feeling him relax into your lap, heavy and solid. You smile. You like this - you're glad that you finally have figured this out, the intimacy that's both physical and mental, both casual and sexual. Now that you've finally settled and figured them out, this kind of contact is easy. Welcome. Craved.
The afternoon light catches the side of Chan's face and you notice the faint freckles across his nose, the way his face is soft, eyes closed and content as he drifts. It's moments like this that make you understand why the pack works and why fourteen people in one house don't feel chaotic and feel like this instead.
Soonyoung's voice is what cuts through the silence, reminding you that the pack has its bad days too. You turn to look over the back of the couch the way his voice is coming, cutting through the ambient noise like a knife. Chan shifts too, the beta making an unhappy noise as he cracks an eye open.
"I said I would handle it, Seokmin," Soonyoung snaps somewhere. You straighten, the alpha's voice rigid and more severe than you're used to hearing. "So stop."
"I'm just trying to help." Seokmin's calmer voice barely reaches you, careful and placating. You can hear his confusion even without seeing his face. "If you'd just listen-"
"I don't need to listen."
Footsteps keep your attention pinned to the entryway from the hall. Soonyoung rounds the corner into the living room and the sight of him makes something in your chest clench. His jaw is tight, muscle twitching beneath the skin, and his shoulders are drawn up and rigid. There's something wild in his eyes that make your instincts prickle, a warning bell going off in the back of your head that's telling you there's an alpha in distress.
Seokmin trails behind him with his hands raised in a gesture of peace, his expression caught somewhere between apologetic and frustrated. He's still in his work clothes, dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tie loosened around his neck, but the tension in his neck has nothing to do with Soonyoung.
Your book is long forgotten. Chan's head is turned in your lap, watching as Soonyoung storms into the room, Seokmin behind him. Seokmin looks at you before his eyes dart meaningfully between you and Chan, a silent request. You understand immediately and pat Chan gently. The beta stirs immediately, unfolding from your lap with a quick kiss to your forehead before he heads toward Seokmin.
"Help me with something in the kitchen?" Chan asks Seokmin, reaching for him.
"Sure," Seokmin sighs, moving toward the hallway. He shoots you one last look, mouthing thank you as he follows Chan out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch.
The moment they're gone, Soonyoung is moving toward you, his agitation evaporating. He falls onto the couch, settling against you instantly, head finding the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he breathes you in.
"Hi," he says quietly, voice muffled as he presses in closer. "You smell good."
His scent washes over you as he burrows closer, deep teakwood with an undercurrent of warmth that you've come to associate with him, though there's something slightly off about it now. Something sharp and acidic underneath. It makes your nose wrinkle slightly even as your omega instincts purr at his proximity.
"Hi," you murmur, tugging him further into you.
"What are you reading?"
"Something Wonwoo recommended."
He hums, a low sound in the back of his throat, and leans even closer to peer at the cover. You can feel the heat of him along your side, can see the way his hair falls into his eyes as he tilts his head. "Is it good?"
"It's okay. It's a little slow."
"Do you want company? I can sit with you."
There's something almost desperate in the offer, something that makes your chest tight. You study his face, trying to understand what just happened, trying to reconcile the alpha who just snapped at Seokmin with the one who's looking at you now like he might die if you say no. You'd never say no, though, so you smile and nod.
"Always," you say softly, and watch the way relief floods his expression like sunrise breaking over water. “Just keep the teeth away, yeah?”
He nods and shifts, adjusting his position so he's lying more fully against you, his head pillowed on your thigh where Chan had been moments before. The weight of him is different, heavier and more solid, radiating a heat that seems to seep through the fabric of your leggings and into your skin. One of his arms wraps around your leg, holding on like you might disappear if he doesn't anchor himself to you.
Without thinking, you card your fingers through his hair, and the effect is immediate. He melts. There's no other word for it as the tension that had been coiled through his shoulders and jaw just dissolves under your touch, his whole body going soft and pliant against you. A sound escapes him, something between a sigh and a groan, and he presses his face harder against your thigh.
"That feels nice," he mumbles. "Don't stop doing that."
You smile, continuing the gentle motion, your fingers sliding through the dark strands. His hair is softer than you expected, still slightly mussed from where he'd been running his hands through it earlier, and you work through the tangles with careful attention. Each pass of your fingers seems to pull more tension from him, until he's practically boneless against you, his breathing evening out into something slow and deep.
The afternoon light has shifted, no longer streaming directly through the windows but casting everything in a softer, golden glow. That's when you notice it again. That off note in his scent. It's subtle, easy to miss if you weren't paying attention, but it's there, sharp and acidic beneath the familiar teakwood warmth, like something fermented or turned. It makes your nose wrinkle slightly, your omega instincts prickling with a vague sense of concern. You've never smelled him like this before. Usually his scent is all warmth and depth, grounding and steady, but this is different.
You frown slightly, your fingers pausing in his hair as you try to place what it reminds you of. Your first thought is rut, that sharp, aggressive edge that alphas get when their biology starts to take over, but you dismiss it almost immediately. You've been with the pack long enough now to know everyone's schedules, the careful tracking system they use to make sure no one's caught off guard. Soonyoung isn't due for a rut for at least another three weeks. You'd know. Seungcheol keeps a calendar, and you've seen it enough times to have most of the dates memorized.
So it's not that. Maybe he's just stressed? The thought settles uneasily in your chest. He has been more on edge lately, more irritable with the others, though you'd chalked it up to work or pack dynamics or any of the hundred other things that can make an alpha tense. Maybe it's manifesting in his scent, some kind of stress response you're not familiar with yet.
You let it go, resuming the gentle motion of your fingers through his hair. Whatever it is, he clearly needs this and you're not about to pull away because of some vague concern you can't even properly articulate. If it's serious, someone else will notice. Seungcheol will notice.
Soonyoung makes another one of those soft sounds and you feel your heart do something complicated in your chest. You smile, thinking about how much you like him. The realization isn't new - you like all of them. But it hits you fresh at this moment, with him soft and sleepy against you.
"You're really good at that," he murmurs, his voice drowsy and content. His eyes are closed, his face relaxed. "Like, unfairly good."
"Just scratching your head," you say, but you're smiling, your fingers finding that spot behind his ear that makes him practically purr.
"Mm, no. It's more than that." He shifts slightly, tilting his head to look up at you, and the expression on his face makes your breath catch. There's something raw in his eyes, something open and honest that he usually keeps hidden behind jokes and easy grins. "You make everything feel easier."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He reaches up, his hand finding yours where it's resting against his temple, and he threads your fingers together. His palm is warm, slightly rough, and the gesture feels impossibly intimate. "I really like being close to you. Is that okay? To say that?"
"Of course it is. I like being close to you too."
His smile is small but genuine, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Good. Because I don't think I could stop even if you told me to."
You laugh quietly, resuming the gentle motion through his hair with your free hand while he keeps the other one captive, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your knuckles. His touch is comforting and you can feel the way his body has gone completely relaxed against you as the house settles around you, the sound of pack life continuing in other rooms.
You don't know how long you stay like that. Long enough for the light to shift again, the golden glow deepening toward amber. Long enough for your legs to start going numb under his weight, though you don't mention it. Long enough for you to memorize the exact shade of his hair in this light, the pattern of freckles across his nose, the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks when he closes his eyes.
"Thank you," he says eventually, so quiet you almost miss it.
"For what?"
"For not asking questions. For just letting me be here."
You want to tell him he never has to thank you for that, but the words feel too big, too revealing, so instead you just squeeze his hand and keep running your fingers through his hair, and hope he understands anyway.
He seems to. His eyes drift closed again, his breathing evening out. And despite that lingering concern about his scent, despite the confusion about what happened with Seokmin, despite everything, you let yourself have this, relaxing against the couch as Soonyoung dozes in your lap.
-
The second time you notice something off with Soonyoung is worse.
It's Saturday morning and the kitchen is alive with the weekend chaos you've come to expect now that you eat breakfast at more reasonable hours. Mingyu is at the stove making what smells like pancakes while Vernon sits at the island with his laptop and a cup of coffee that you think has gone cold. Joshua hums as he sets the table in the dining room while morning light streams through the windows, coffee and the scent of bodies filling the room.
You're standing at the counter making tea, watching the kettle when you hear the commotion start somewhere just outside the kitchen.
"I'm just saying," Junhui says, his voice measured and calm in a way that suggests he is trying very hard to be patient. "If you'd communicated better, it would-"
"I don't need you to tell me how to communicate, Jun." Soonyoung's voice cuts through the morning peace like a knife, sharp enough that you see Mingyu's shoulders tense at the stove, see Vernon's fingers still on his keyboard.
Your hands tighten on the edge of the counter, your whole body going alert. Not again. Please not again. You glance at Mingyu who winces and shrugs his shoulders before turning back to stare intensely at his pancakes, preferring to let the alphas argue it out.
"I'm not telling you how to do anything." Junhui's voice is still calm but you can hear the edge creeping in, can hear the alpha authority starting to bleed through. "I'm just saying that if you'd communicated better, we wouldn't have had the conflict with-"
"Right, so it's my fault."
"That isn't what I said-"
"It's what you meant!"
You turn your attention back to the kettle, listening with half an ear as the argument continues. It's not the first time you've heard pack members disagree, and it probably won't be the last. The whistle is building now, getting louder, and you're reaching for your mug when you hear a crash loud enough that you jerk your hand.
The kettle wobbles but you catch it, steadying it with both hands as you let out a breath. Your heart kicks up for a moment before settling back down. Just an argument. Just pack dynamics working themselves out.
Mingyu has turned from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression somewhere between concerned and resigned. Vernon has closed his laptop, watching the doorway.
"Soonyoung." Junhui's voice is harder now, carrying that alpha command that says stand down. "You need to calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down."
There's a beat of tense silence, and then footsteps, quick and purposeful before Soonyoung appears in the kitchen doorway. He looks wound tight, his chest heavy slightly, his eyes bright and a flush high on his cheeks that tells you he's stressed. His hair is a mess like he's been running his hands through it, and his t-shirt is rumpled, twisted slightly to one side. For a second he just stands there, breathing hard, his gaze sweeping the kitchen like he's looking for something.
Then his eyes land on you, and everything changes.
The tension bleeds out of his shoulders and his expression softens immediately, the wild edge in his eyes gentling into something warm. He crosses the kitchen in a few long strides, and before you can say anything, he’s pressing into your side like he needs the physical contact to breathe.
"Hi," he says quietly, his voice rough but softer than it was seconds ago. One of his arms wraps around your waist, and he leans into you, his forehead coming to rest against your temple. "You making tea?"
"Yeah." You can feel the heat of him along your entire side, can smell that sharp acidic edge underneath his usual teakwood warmth. It's more pronounced than it was yesterday. "Want some?"
"No. Just want to be here."
"Alright."
You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, scraping the blunt edge of your nails against his scalp. He hums, chest vibrating against you as his eyes flutter, scent blooming warm and rich, the acidic note vanishing. The kettle is whistling properly now, so you pour the water one-handed, Soonyoung still plastered to your side like he has no intention of moving. He doesn't say anything, just stands there with his arm around you, his breathing evening out as you finish making your tea.
Behind you, you can hear Mingyu returning to the pancakes, the quiet sizzle of batter hitting the pan. Vernon has reopened his laptop but you can feel his attention still on the two of you. Joshua appears in the doorway, takes one look at Soonyoung wrapped around you, and just nods to himself before heading back to finish setting the table.
"Breakfast is almost ready," Mingyu says after a moment, his voice carefully neutral. "If you guys want to sit down."
Soonyoung makes a noncommittal sound against your hair but doesn't move. You smile, wrapping both hands around your mug now that it's ready, and lean back into him slightly.
"Come on," you murmur. "Let's go sit."
He follows you without question, his hand sliding from your waist to tangle with your free hand, keeping you connected as you move into the dining room. The table is set thanks to Joshua, who looks between you and Soonyoung before winking.
You choose a seat near the middle of the table and Soonyoung immediately claims the chair right next to you, close enough that his thigh presses against yours when he sits. His hand finds your knee under the table, his thumb rubbing small circles against the fabric of your leggings, and you can feel the way he's still wound tight despite the softness in his expression.
Junhui appears in the doorway a moment later, and you watch as his eyes land on Soonyoung pressed up against your side. Something complicated crosses his face - frustration, maybe, but also understanding, and what looks like relief. He lets out a long breath, his shoulders dropping slightly, and when he meets your eyes there's gratitude there.
Thanks, he mouths silently and you nod.
He takes a seat across the table, his posture still tense but no longer aggressive. The argument isn't resolved, the set of his jaw and the tension in his hands making that much obvious, but it's set aside for now for when Soonyoung isn't whatever this is right now.
Soon, the table fills out with the rest of the pack and loud conversation backtracked by the sound of silverware on plates. Soonyoung serves you first, putting pancakes on your plate before his own, his hand never leaving your knee. He eats one-handed, the other staying firmly on you like he needs the anchor despite Seungkwan poking fun at him.
Soonyoung gradually relaxes against your side. His scent is still off, but his breathing has evened out, and the tension in his shoulders has eased. He's not talking much, just listening to the conversation around him, but every so often he glances at you like he's checking that you're still there.
Across the table, Junhui catches your eye again and gives you a small nod. The message is clear: Whatever you're doing, keep doing it.
So you do. You finish your tea and eat your pancakes and let Soonyoung stay pressed against your side for as long as he needs, and you try not to think too hard about what it is that's bothering him, ready to wait him out and let him come to you.
-
By Sunday, Soonyoung's tension has been noticed by everyone.
It's the kind of afternoon where the house has that lazy, syrupy feeling of the weekend as people scatter across the estate with their routines. You can hear Seungkwan's laugh coming through an open window, backtracked by someone playing music.
Sun bakes down on the top of your head as you stretch, sweaty skin sticky against the cloth of the cabana seating. Mingyu is tucked next to you, the smell of his clean, floral musk and sunscreen soothing.
The afternoon sun turns the pool surface into liquid gold, the light dancing and refracting in patterns that shift with every ripple. The air smells like chlorine and sunscreen and the jasmine that grows wild along the fence line, music playing from the speaker next to Mingyu softly while the two of you lounge
He's stretched out next to you in swim shorts that are slung low on his hips, his long legs crossed at the ankle, a book open in his lap that he's been so called reading for the past twenty minutes despite the fact he hasn't turned a page in at least ten. His chest is bare, shoulders already warming to a golden tan, and there's a faint sheen of sunscreen on his skin that catches the light.
You are definitely not reading your book. Instead, you're acutely aware of the way Mingyu's chest rises and falls with each one of his breaths, every defined line of his abs, and the way his muscles in his shoulders flex when he shifts his position. Your eyes drift from his collarbones to his sternum to the dip of his waist where his swim shorts sit low on his hips, and you have to physically force your gaze back to your book.
When you glance sideways, you catch the faintest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He knows. Of course he knows. Mingyu always knows when you're looking.
Footsteps draw your attention on the pool deck. Soonyoung is approaching, jaw tight and shoulders tense. You frown and his scent hits you a moment later as the wind shifts, sharp and acrid. You shift and Mingyu notices, glancing at you from behind his sunglasses before he realizes Soonyoung is there.
"Mingyu," Soonyoung says, voice clipped. He stops at the edge of the cabana, his eyes locked on Mingyu with something that makes the beta tense. "You left the fridge door open this morning. Again."
Mingyu blinks. "What?"
"Yeah."
"Soonyoung, I made breakfast at seven. It's been hours." Mingyu shields his eyes, looking up at Soonyoung, his tone more bewildered than defensive. "What even is-"
"And yesterday," Soonyoung continues, "You left stuff all over the kitchen counter. It's rude and messy."
You watch as Mingyu's expression shifts from confusion to something closer to exasperation. "I cleaned that up. Wonwoo saw me clean it up."
"Not very well, apparently." Soonyoung's voice is sharp. "And you were making noise in the kitchen at like six in the morning. Some of us were trying to sleep."
"You were literally in the gym at six." Mingyu closes his book deliberately and sets it on the small table next to the cabana. When he looks up at Soonyoung, his expression is guarded, not angry. "What's your actual problem Soonyoung? Spit it out."
"I don't have a problem. I just think it would be nice if people actually thought about the shared spaces instead of just doing whatever they want."
"Nobody's doing whatever they want."
Mingyu stands now so he's facing Soonyoung directly. He's a beta, but he's not small. He towers over Soonyoung, imposing in a way that makes your instincts flare, feeling the shift of tension between the two.
"You're picking a fight," Mingyu says, softer than before.
"I'm not picking a fight."
"Soonyoung, you're-" Mingyu cuts himself off and sighs. You can see him trying to control his temper, trying to figure out what Soonyoung is actually mad about. "You know what, whatever. You're right."
He turns to leave, his movements sharp and frustrated, stepping away from the cabana toward the pool deck. The afternoon sun hits him full-force, turning his skin golden, and for a moment you think maybe that's it. But then Soonyoung's hand darts out, wrapping around Mingyu's arm just above the elbow, fingers digging in hard enough to dimple Mingyu's skin.
"Don't walk away from me," Soonyoung growls, teeth flashing.
"Okay, enough."
Your voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding in a way that surprises even you. You're on your feet before you've consciously decided to move, a frustrated growling rippling through you at their bickering and Soonyoung's obvious struggle with something.
The effect is immediate and absolute. Soonyoung's hand drops from Mingyu's arm like he's been burned, his eyes going wide as they snap to you. Mingyu takes a step back, his posture immediately shifting from defensive to something closer to chastened. They're both staring at you now, and you can see the moment they register your expression.
"I don't know what's going on with you," you say, your gaze locked on Soonyoung, "but I am tired of watching you pick fights with everyone in this house. And Mingyu, you know it sets him off when you walk away like that."
"I wasn't-" Mingyu starts, but you hold up a hand and he stops immediately, his mouth closing.
"I don't want to hear it. Not from either of you. Soonyoung, put the teeth away."
The afternoon sun is hot on your shoulders, the chlorine smell sharp in your nose as a beat of silence passes. Soonyoung looks like he's been slapped, his expression crumbling from aggressive to something that looks almost like shame. His shoulders drop, his hands unclenching, and you can see the way his whole body seems to deflate.
"I'm sorry," he says, voice smaller than you've ever heard it.
"I know, Soonyoung." Your voice softens a fraction. "But you need to figure out what's going on with you, because this isn't okay. Mingyu didn't deserve that."
Soonyoung glances at Mingyu. "I'm sorry."
Mingyu is rubbing his arm where Soonyoung grabbed him, and you can see the red marks already forming, can see the shape of fingers pressed into his skin. His expression is a mix of anger and hurt, and you can tell he's struggling to not let his temper flare again. He takes a deep breath and nods, the frustration melting out of him in the way that betas are always good at.
"You need to talk to Seungcheol," Mingyu says, his voice much calmer now. "Today."
"I know."
Mingyu doesn't seem convinced. "I'm serious."
"I know. I'm going to."
For a second, Mingyu hesitates. Then he nods and glances at you, tilting his head toward Soonyoung subtly. You nod and Mingyu backs up a few paces, keeping his eyes on you until he's sure that you'll be fine with Soonyoung before he turns, sulky and irritated but knowing that Soonyoung needs space and recently, you're the only one who can reason with him.
Soonyoung looks wrecked, his expression apologetic. He's trembling a little, hands flexing at his sides like he wants to reach for you but can't or won't, his scent a mess. His pupils are blown wide, somewhere between fighting whatever instinct is making him so cagey and panic that he's upset you - he hates upsetting anyone, but most of all he hates when you're mad.
"Can I…?" He drifts off and gestures vaguely in your direction.
He's asking permission, deferring to you completely, and you can see in his eyes that he'll accept whatever answer you give. That he knows he just got put in his place and he's not going to push.
You let out a breath, some of the tension leaving your shoulders. "Yeah. Come here.
He crosses the distance between you in two quick strides, but when he reaches you, he's careful, his arms coming around you slowly enough to give you time to pull away. You don't and instead let him pull you close so he can bury his face in your neck, breathing you in and scenting you enough to make you both dizzy and clinging to one another. Your lashes flutter, a rush going through you as he brushes his nose against the softness of your neck, blood turning molten.
"I'm sorry," he whispers against your skin, and his voice is broken. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry."
Your hands come up automatically, one sliding into his hair, the other pressing flat against his back. You can feel the knobs of his spine through his shirt, can feel the way his muscles are locked tight with tension.
"I know you are," you murmur. "But you need to figure out what's wrong. This isn't like you."
You can feel the way he's trying to calm himself down, trying to match his breathing to yours, trying to use your presence to anchor himself. You feel a pang in your chest, hugging him a little tighter. Soonyoung is always hard on himself - harder than he needs to be - and he hates fighting with anyone, especially Mingyu. Especially in front of you.
You guide him back to the loungers, settling onto one and pulling him down beside you. He goes willingly, curling into your side like he's trying to make himself smaller, his head resting on your shoulder. The afternoon sun has shifted, the shade of the cabana stretching longer across the pool deck, and the water has gone still and mirror-smooth in the absence of any breeze.
"You should talk to Cheol," you murmur.
Soonyoung nods against you. "Okay."
You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the way he relaxes incrementally with each pass, the tension in his shoulders easing degree by degree. The strands are soft, slightly damp from the heat and humidity, and you work your fingers through them slowly, deliberately, the way you know he likes. His scent is still sharp underneath, still carrying that acidic edge that speaks to whatever is happening inside his body, but it levels out now, teakwood baked under sun.
"Better?" you ask softly.
He makes a small sound of agreement, his arm tightening around your waist. "Yeah."
-
Someone knocking on your door pulls you from sleep. You squint at the clock on the nightstand, the blurry numbers telling you it's well past three am. Your bed is warm, blankets tangled around you and the faint smell of Jeonghan lingering from the hoodie of his you have shoved under your pillow. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you get your bearings.
"Come in," you croak.
Before the door even opens, you know who it is. You can smell Soonyoung before the door fully opens, but when it does, it hits you like a physical force. It's his normal warm, woody smell but there's something new now, something hot and thick and almost overwhelming. It makes your mouth water, omega instincts kicking in, warmth pooling low in your belly.
Soonyoung steps into your room and closes the door behind him with a soft click, and in the dim light filtering through your curtains from the streetlamp outside, you can see that something is very, very wrong. Or right, by the smell of him.
He's shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose sleep pants that hang low on his hips, skin gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat despite how cold the house is at night. You can see the way his chest rises and falls too fast, too shallow. His hair is a mess like he's been pulling at it again, and when he looks at you, his eyes are dark and dilated, pupils blown so wide there's barely any iris left.
"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice is rough, wrecked. "I know it's late."
You push the blankets aside and shift to the edge of your bed, feet finding the cool hardwood floor to stand. "What's wrong?"
His entire body reacts to the sound of your voice. He sways slightly toward you, nostril flaring as he scents you, a shiver rippling through him. You take a step toward him and he makes a pitiful sound, looking entirely at war with himself.
"I feel like I'm burning up," he mumbles. "Feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin if I don't see you."
"Come here."
It's a command - softly given, but a command none the less. He listens like it's instinctual, crossing the room to you in three strides. You feel the heat radiating off of him when he stops in front of you and you reach up without thinking, pressing your palm to his chest. He's fever-hot under your touch, his heart hammering in his chest.
"You're burning up," you say softly, frowning.
"I know." His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing your palm harder against his chest like he needs the contact, needs the pressure. His eyes close and he takes a shuddering breath. "You smell so good. You always smell good but right now it's maddening."
Something clicks into place in your mind. The aggression. The clinginess. The way his scent has been getting sharper and hotter for days. The fever. The way he's looking at you right now like you're the only thing in the world that matters.
"Soonyoung," you say slowly, carefully. "Are you in rut?"
His eyes snap open, meeting yours, and for a long moment he just stares at you. You can see him processing the question, see the moment the realization hits him. His expression shifts from confusion to understanding to something that looks almost like relief.
"Oh. Um. It does feel like that."
"But it's early, isn't it?" You keep your hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat under your palm. "You're not supposed to go into a rut for another few weeks."
"Right." He seems to think about something and he makes a small sound, leaning into your touch. "I've never had an omega in the house though."
"Oh."
"I think having you here made my body kind of freak out and decide it was time even if it wasn't."
You can feel your own body responding to his proximity, to the thick, heady scent of him in rut. Your omega instincts are screaming at you to help, to soothe, to give him what he needs. But more than that, you want to. You want to pull him into your bed, want to feel his fever-hot skin against yours, want to take care of him the way every cell in your body is telling you to.
"Let me help you," you say, and your voice comes out softer than you intended, almost pleading.
His eyes go wide. "What?"
"Let me help you through it." You slide your hand up from his chest to cup his jaw, feeling the way he leans into your touch like he can't help himself. "You don't have to do this alone. You don't have to suffer through it."
"I can't ask you to do that. You haven't been here that long and haven't been through one…"
"It's pretty instinctual. I'll be okay."
He's trembling now, and you can't tell if it's from the fever or from nerves or from the effort of holding himself back. "What if I hurt you? What if I can't control myself?"
"Soonyoung, you won't hurt me."
"You don't know that." But even as he says it, he's leaning closer, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. His breath is hot against your lips, coming in short, uneven pants. "You don't know what it's like. What I'm feeling right now."
"Then take it," you whisper. "Take what you need."
He makes a sound low in his throat, something between a whimper and a growl, and his hands come up to grip your waist. His fingers dig in, not quite hard enough to hurt but firm enough that you can feel the desperation in his touch.
"But what if-"
You cut him off by kissing him.
It's soft at first, just a gentle press of your lips against his to turn off his spinning thoughts, but the moment you make contact, something in him breaks. He makes a desperate sound against your mouth and kisses you back like he's drowning and you're air. His lips are fever-hot and slightly chapped, and he tastes like mint toothpaste and something underneath that's purely him, purely alpha, purely Soonyoung.
His hands tighten on your waist and he pulls you closer, eliminating the last few inches of space between you. Your chest presses against his and you can feel the heat of him even through your thin sleep shirt, can feel the way his heart is racing, can feel the slight tremor in his muscles as he holds himself back from taking more than you're offering.
But you want him to take more. You want him to let go.
You part your lips and he groans, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes heat pool low in your belly. The kiss deepens, turns hungry, and you can feel the moment his control starts to slip. His hands slide from your waist to your hips to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him harden against your stomach, the way he's already straining against the low slung sweat pants.
Knowing he wants you this much makes your head spin. You omega preens and you shiver, sucking his tongue into your mouth greedily, driven by a more powerful want than you have ever felt in your life. He responds in kind, walking you backward toward the bed, feet tangling until you're falling backward and he's caging you in.
For a moment, he just hovers over you, his arms bracketing your head, his chest heaving as he stares down at you with those dark, dilated eyes. You reach up and trace his jawline and he leans into the touch, eyes fluttering. You've always thought he had the prettiest eyes, dark and hungry and so full of life. Right now they're burning with something hotter than you've ever seen and it makes you sing.
"You're so beautiful," he says, and his voice is wrecked. "I've wanted this for so long. Wanted you for so long."
"Then have me," you whisper. "Take me."
"Okay," he whispers. "Okay."
He kisses you again, slower this time, his lips moving against you with gentle purpose like he's memorizing the shape of your mouth. His hands start to wander, sliding up your sides, pushing your sleep shirt up inch by inch until his palms are pressed against your bare skin.
The contact makes you both gasp. His hands are so hot they're almost burning, and everywhere he touches feels like it's on fire. He explores slowly, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your ribs, the soft swell of your breasts.
"Can I?" He asks, twisting a fistfull of your shirt in his hand. You nod and he grins.
He sits back on his heels and helps you pull the shirt over your head, and the moment it's gone, his eyes go even darker. He stares at you like he's never seen anything more beautiful, his gaze tracking over every inch of exposed skin.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You're perfect. You're so fucking perfect."
He leans down and presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another to the swell of your breast, then another to your stomach. His lips are hot and soft, and every place he kisses feels like it's been branded. He works his way down slowly, kissing and licking and occasionally scraping his teeth gently against your skin in a way that makes you arch up into him, his name broken and shaky on your lips.
Soonyoung's sounds are equally as needy, groaning low in his throat in a way that makes your thighs close around his waist, the ache between your legs growing despite the way his hips pin yours to the bed. Friction. You need friction but any thoughts of asking for it vanish from your head when he leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, the heat and wet slide of his tongue making you cry out.
Your hands fly to his hair, threading through the messy strands, holding him against you as he sucks and licks and occasionally scrapes his teeth gently across the sensitive bud. The sensation is overwhelming, almost too much, and you can feel yourself getting wetter with every pass of his tongue.
"So responsive," he murmurs, almost to himself. "So perfect for me."
He gives the same attention to your other breast, his hand coming up to play with the one his mouth just left, and the dual sensation makes your head spin. You're panting now, your hips shifting restlessly against the mattress, seeking friction that you need so badly.
"Soonyoung," you gasp. "Please."
"Please what?" He lifts his head to look at you, and his lips are wet and swollen, his eyes dark with hunger. "Tell me what you need."
"Touch me. Please touch me."
His hand slides down your stomach, his fingers light and maddening. When he reaches the waistband of your shorts, he pauses again, waiting for permission. You lift your hips in answer, and he hooks his fingers into both your shorts and underwear, pulling them down your legs in one smooth motion.
Cool air hits your overheated pussy and you whine. Soonyoung growls in response, looking down where your thighs threaten to shut. He keeps you pressed open, his hands firm on your thighs as he makes an appreciative sound low in his chest, almost a purr.
"You're so wet," he says, his voice rough. "Is this all for me?"
"Yes," you breathe. "All for you."
He stays kneeled there on the bed, his hand tracing down your thigh until he’s sliding his fingers through your sticky, heated folds. He explores slowly, the drag of his fingers making you tremble, thighs twitching until he presses gently against your clit and you let out a high-pitched sound, the contact sending a bloom of warmth spreading through you.
"There?" He asks and you can hear the smile in his voice, smug.
"Yes. Please."
Soonyoung obeys, circling your clit slowly, increasing the pressure as you buck under him. You feel yourself dripping, a wet mess as he plays with you, making little appreciative sounds as his slick fingers work you higher until you're tangling your hands in the bed and writhing under him.
When he slides one finger inside you, you cry out, your hands fisting in the blankets beneath you. It feels good but you want more, immediately asking him for more, mumbling and messy and lightheaded and overwhelmed with the thick scent of him and the heat of his finger pressing against your front wall.
"Yeah?" He asks. "You can take another?"
"Yes. Please. More."
He adds a second finger and the stretch is delicious, perfect. He curls them inside you, searching, and when he finds that spot that makes you see stars, you nearly sob with relief.
"There," you gasp. "Right there. Oh god, Soonyoung, right there."
He works you with single-minded focus, his fingers curling and stroking while his thumb circles your clit, and you can feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building higher and higher until you're teetering right on the edge.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me see you come."
You turn your head to the side, pressing it into the mattress as your hips roll toward his hand, letting him fuck his fingers into you until you're coming around them, clamping down hard on his fingers. He moans with you, pumping his fingers through it as you squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, the pleasure so hot you stop breathing for a second.
"Too much," you gasp, and he immediately gentles, his fingers slipping out of you carefully.
He brings his hand to his mouth and sucks his fingers clean, his eyes closing as he hums in delight. You stare at him, panting and sweaty, sheets sticky against your skin as he opens his eyes, the moon reflecting off them.
"Taste so fucking good," he growls. "Bet you taste better from the source, but if I don't fuck you right now I might lose my mind."
"Please," you beg. "Want it so bad."
He makes a desperate sound and reaches for his sleep pants, shoving them down his hips. His cock springs free, hard and flushed and leaking, and the sight of it makes your mouth water. He's thick and throbbing, and you watch like you're hypnotized as he grips himself, stroking slowly a few times as he settles on the bed between your legs.
Soonyoung leans forward, one hand braced beside your head, the other guiding himself to your wet cunt where he pauses, swiping the head of his cock through your slick folds. You whine and he grins, clearly loving the effect he has on you.
"You sure?" He asks after a minute, the head of his cock notching on your entrance but not pushing in. "We can stop."
"I want you," you assure him, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Please, alpha."
Your words have an immediate effect. He shivers, a ripple going through him as he growls low in his throat and presses in. You're wet enough that he slides in smoothly, but you can still feel every inch of him, can feel the way your body has to adjust to accommodate his girth. The drag of him against your walls enough to make you gasp.
"Fuck," he breaths, pressing in until he bottoms out. "You feel incredible. So tight. So perfect." He rolls his hips experimentally, grinding deep, and the pressure against that spot inside you makes you cry out. "Yeah, there it is. I can feel you clenching around me already."
You can feel the fever-heat of his skin, the way his muscles are taut with restraint. His scent wraps around you, that deep teakwood gone sharp and heady with rut, overwhelming your senses until all you can smell is him. It makes your head spin, makes you want to pull him closer, to drown in it.
"Soonyoung," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Move. Please move."
"Impatient," he says with a grin, but there's heat in his eyes.
He pulls out so slowly that you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock, all the way until just the head of him is inside of you before he snaps his hips forward, driving deep in one smooth thrust, and the sudden fullness makes you cry out. He doesn't give you time to adjust before he's pulling out and driving in again, setting a rhythm that's deep and steady and absolutely devastating. Each thrust hits that perfect spot inside you, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine.
"Oh fuck," you groan, going tight around him. "Fuck fuck fuck."
The sounds of the wet slide of him fucking into you fills the room backtracked by his breathing, ragged and uneven as he groans everytime you clench around him. You dig your nails in, scraping down his back to his waist where you urge him faster, your fingers sliding against his sweaty skin.
"That's fucking it," he pants. "Taking my cock so well, huh? Were you made to take it?"
You nod, his words making heat flood through you, making you clench around him involuntarily. He feels it and grins, that cocky, confident smile that makes your heart race.
"You like that?" he asks, his pace never faltering. "Like hearing how perfect you are? How good you feel wrapped around me?"
"Yes," you gasp as he thrusts hard, jostling you up the bed. "Fuck. Yes, Soonyoung."
He shifts the angle slightly, pressing deeper, and suddenly every thrust is dragging against your g-spot with devastating precision. The pleasure builds rapidly, a tight coil of heat low in your belly that winds tighter with each movement. He reaches between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with just the right speed.
"I can feel you getting close," he says, and there's satisfaction in his voice. "Can feel the way this perfect pussy is clenching. You gonna come for me?"
"Yes!"
You can feel yourself climbing higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak, your cunt clenching hard, breath hitching as you start to shake. He drives in harder, finger speeding up until you're standing on the edge of your orgasm, breath held, waiting to dive over.
"Come on," he murmurs, leaning down to nip your heard. "Come for me, baby."
You do, the orgasm hitting you hard. It steals your breath and your entire body locks up as you cry out his name, your pussy clamping down on him. His rhythm stutters immediately as he groans, but he doesn't stop, working you through it until you're shaking and feeling like you're going to come apart again, unsure if your orgasm has stopped or if it's another one starting.
"I can't-"
"You can," he urges, breath hot against your ear. "You're going to give me another one, baby."
He pulls out suddenly, and the loss makes you whimper. But before you can protest, he's flipping you over onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips and pulling them up.
"On your knees," he commands, and the authority in his voice makes you obey without thinking.
When he slides in from behind, the new angle makes him feel deeper. You can feel him everywhere, the stretch, the fullness, the way he's pressed against every single spot inside of you. His hands grip your hips hard enough to dimple the skin, holding you exactly where he wants you as he fucks you in earnest, hips snapping and bed hitting the wall.
"Fuck, look at you," he groans. "Taking me so deep. You're perfect. So fucking perfect."
One of his hands slides up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades, and you let yourself collapse forward onto your forearms. The change in angle makes him hit even deeper, makes you cry out with the intensity of it.
"Too much?" he asks, but there's a teasing edge to his voice. He knows it's not too much. He knows you can take it.
"No," you gasp. "More. Please, more."
"Greedy," he says with a laugh, but he gives you what you want.
His pace increases, his thrusts getting harder, faster, and you can feel another orgasm building already. It's different this time, deeper and more intense, starting low in your stomach and spreading outward like fire.
His hand slides around to find your clit again, and the added stimulation makes you sob with pleasure. You're so sensitive, so overwhelmed, but you don't want him to stop. You never want him to stop.
"Come on," he urges, his voice strained now. "Give me another one. Want to feel you come apart on my cock again."
The orgasm builds and builds, the pressure almost unbearable, and when it finally breaks you scream into the pillow. Your whole body shakes with it, your inner walls clenching around him so hard you can feel him groan, can feel the way his rhythm falters.
"Fuck," he gasps. "Fuck, you feel so good."
His hips stutter, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully, and then he's coming with a groan that sounds like it's torn from his chest. You can feel the heat of him spilling inside you, can feel the pulse of his cock, and the sensation triggers another small aftershock that makes you whimper.
He collapses over you, his chest pressed against your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You can feel his heart racing against your spine, can feel the way he's trembling slightly, can feel his breath hot and uneven against your shoulder.
For a second, the two of you lay there like that, hearts pounding in sync, the messy slide of your bodies warm and comforting, his scent blooming around you as the mess between your thighs runs down your legs and onto the mattress. You don't care, going near catatonic as Soonyoung presses closer to your scent gland, his tongue darting out to taste you. It makes you moan and push back into him, wanting more and he laughs.
He shifts slightly, starting to pull out, but you make a sound of protest. "Not yet. Stay."
"I'm crushing you," he points out, but he doesn't move.
"Don't care," you say. "Want to feel you."
He makes a soft sound and settles more comfortably against you, his arms wrapping around your waist. He's still inside you, softening but not pulling out, and there's something intimate about it that makes your chest feel tight.
You lie there in the darkness, your bodies cooling, your breathing gradually evening out. You can feel the way his scent is already starting to shift, still hot and thick with rut, but not quite as sharp, not quite as overwhelming.
"How long do ruts usually last?" you ask quietly.
"Three days, usually. Sometimes four." He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "But I don't know if this one will be normal. Everything about it has been weird so far."
"We'll figure it out," you tell him.
He's quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft, vulnerable. "Thank you. For this. For helping me. For not being scared of me."
"I would never be afraid of you."
"Even after the past few days?"
"Especially after the past few days." You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, and even in the dim light, you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. "You were in pre-rut and you were still gentle with me. You were still asking permission. You were still you. That tells me everything I need to know."
He closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath, and when he opens them again, they're suspiciously bright. "I don't deserve you."
"Shut up," you say, but there's no heat in it. "You deserve everything good. And I'm going to make sure you get it."
He kisses your shoulder, soft and sweet and perfect. When he pulls back, you can hear the smile in his voice.
"Round two?" he asks, and you can already feel him starting to harden again inside you.
You laugh, the sound surprised and delighted. "Already?"
"Rut," he says, rolling his hips experimentally and making you gasp. "Told you it was going to be intense. Think you can keep up?"
"Is that a challenge?"
"Maybe. Think you can handle it?"
"I can handle anything you give me," you tell him, and you mean it.
"Good," he says, his voice dropping to that low, commanding tone that makes heat pool in your belly. "Because I'm not done with you yet. Not even close."
"Prove it."
"Oh, I will," he promises. "We've got all night. And all day tomorrow. And the day after that."
"Good," you tell him, rolling your hips and feeling the way he's already fully hard again inside you. "Because I'm not letting you go."
-
The knock comes around late morning, soft but insistent.
You're half-awake when you hear it, drifting in that comfortable space between sleep and consciousness where everything feels warm and syrupy. Soonyoung is sprawled across your chest, his head tucked under your chin, one arm thrown over your waist. His breathing is deep and even, his body finally relaxed after taking you four more times throughout the night on and off. There's an ache between your legs but it feels good, feels right. Like you're right where you should be, pressed against a member of your pack, scents twisted together.
The knock comes again, a little louder this time.
"Come in," you call quietly, not wanting to startle Soonyoung awake too abruptly.
The door opens and Jeonghan steps inside, cradling bottles of water and bowls of rice and chicken. You realize it's what you both need to sustain yourself through Soonyoung's rut and you're immediately grateful, shooting Jeonghan a tired smile. He smirks in response, trailing toward where you and Soonyoung are tangled on the bed.
Soonyoung senses Jeonghan's presence, eyes snapping open. He's up on his elbows in an instant, his body going rigid, and a low growl rumbles from deep in his chest. His lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl that's pure territorial aggression, his pupils dilating as he positions himself between you and Jeonghan like a shield.
Jeonghan doesn't even flinch. Instead, he sets the food and water down on the dresser and turns to Soonyoung, face calm and placid before his face shifts, lips pulling back to bare his teeth at Soonyoung in kind. There's no anger in it, but rather a reminder to Soonyoung that Jeonghan is number two in this pack and Soonyoung's senior and he is not intimidated.
Soonyoung's growl falters. You can feel the moment he recognizes the dynamic, the moment his rut-addled brain processes the hierarchy and accepts it. His teeth retract, his lips closing over them, and he settles back down slightly, though his arm never leaves your waist.
"Keep the teeth away," Jeonghan snorts, walking toward the door. "Congrats on finally figuring it out. You cannot imagine the relief I felt seeing you crawl up here last night."
He turns and exits the room without another word, closing the door quietly behind him.
For a moment, there's silence. You can feel Soonyoung's heart still racing, but his anger is immediately replaced with a sheepish laugh and him awkwardly scratching the back of his head, looking at you.
"Sorry," he laughs. "I've never done that before."
"It's okay," you tell him, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair. "It was cute."
"Cute?" He scoffs. "I'm not cute. I'm tough. I have teeth."
"Uh huh." You lay back on the bed, looking up at him, grinning. "Use those big teeth on me then."
"Yeah?" he asks, his voice dropping to something low and hungry. "You want me to?"
"Yes."
That's all the invitation he needs. He moves fast, rolling you onto your back and pinning you to the mattress in one fluid motion. His hands find your wrists, pressing them gently but firmly into the pillows on either side of your head. His body settles over yours, his weight pressing you down into the bed, and you can feel him already hardening against your thigh.
His teeth find the sensitive skin of your neck, just below your ear, and he bites down gently, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough that you feel it, hard enough that it sends a spike of heat straight through you. He works his way down your neck, marking you with his teeth, and every bite is followed by a soothing lick of his tongue.
"I'll show you teeth," he mutters, scraping them over the curve of your breast.
You grin, arching into him, finally feeling settled and feeling home.
PAIRING: F.Reader x ot13
PACK MEMBER FOCUS: Seungcheol
PACK MEETING: You're having a hard time adjusting to your new pack. Good thing your head alpha knows exactly how to help you adapt.
REQUESTED BY: @peaspeas
REQUEST: Idek if this qualifies because I'm talking like, maybe pré-rules or before they were finalised formally but I want Seungcheol finding reader whenever she's eating and sitting with her and she has no idea why. If he shows up and she's already eating, he's like oh shit, panic to make up a reason that he needs to as well etc. Almost a sort of farcical comedy vibe? Both idiots ofc
WC: 5,135
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It may contain explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
PACK WARNINGS: Very mild angst like wouldn't even call it that, reader has some anxiety adjusting to a new pack, she's a little in her head, Seungcheol is a little shit, some vague references to hormones and adjusting to being near others, reader being lonely and feeling a little on the outside, both of them are kind of stupid lmfaooo but in a good way, some playful arguing at the end.
A/N: Moni this is not as cracky as it was supposed to be and didn't really notice to the end I'm saur sorry lmfaoooo. Also this is not beta read we die like men guys.
HOUSE RULES M. LIST | MAIN M. LIST | ASK
THE KITCHEN IS PAINTED IN SHADES OF BLUE AT 5:47 IN THE MORNING. As the only resident of said kitchen this early in the morning the past two weeks, you've learned that the pre-dawn light that spills through the wide windows above the sink turns everything soft and cool in the morning. The white subway tile back splash starts off a muted grey before the sun finally melts away the blue and turns it bright white each morning.
This morning, the honey-colored cabinets look muted, nearly colorless as the sun hides beyond the horizon. You take another bite of cereal, listening to the old house settle around you. The house has taken getting used to - not because it's ancient, but because it's old enough to feel lived in and have its own quirks of floorboards that squeak, doors that click shut because the hinges are a little loose, pipes that groan when one of the thirteen people upstairs showers late at night.
It's a big house. It has to be, to fit the pack of thirteen - fourteen now, including you. Six alphas, seven betas, and you. A single omega, new and a little out of your comfort zone as you try to figure the ins and outs of a pack who have been together so long, they don't even have to think about how to navigate one another. They just do, planets who have been in rotation of one another for so long that it's as easy as breathing.
Where they've had years together, you've only had two weeks. It still feels like you're learning an entire new language - not because any of them are difficult or unkind, but rather because there's a difference between being welcomed into a pack and belonging, and you're somewhere in the strange gap between the two.
Unfortunately, the omega part of your brain doesn't really understand the distinction between the two, even though you do. You get that it'll take time to integrate yourself fully and to fit in as intimately as the others do with one another, but your instincts don't have that nuance. All your omega knows is that you should be surrounded by a pack, that you should be scented and claimed and constantly near people who want you.
Instead, you're sitting by yourself in a kitchen that feels too big and your instincts are ramming against you to go knock on a door and ask for company. You can't, though. Not that they wouldn't let you in - they would. You know they would. But the small fraction of the what if keeps you rooted to your seat. What if they end up not liking you? What if this doesn't work out? What if they decide they don't need an omega after all?
You stare at the cereal in your bowl, now soggy. It's something honey-flavored and generic that you took out of the pack pantry without looking. Mingyu swore you could take anything out of the pantry and fridge - anything in the house. What’s theirs is yours until you start filling the house with your favorite things, but like the anxiety of asking one of them to spend time with you, you can't seem to figure out how to ask for cinnamon sugar cereal or sweet cream coffee creamer.
Another bite confirms your cereal is as soggy as it looks. You ignore it, watching the kitchen in the morning stillness. It still smells like cinnamon and brown sugar from something Mingyu baked yesterday. Dishes pile in the sink and you know Seungcheol is going to have a field day when he sees it, adamant about dishes being done each night.
Under the layers of the smell of the kitchen is them. You're still trying to pick out the strands of scents that belong to each member, but thirteen scents layered over the top of one another is dizzying and hard to get used to, each one blending into something that you recognize as almost pack. Pack but not.
There are a few you can pick out individually, at least. You know Seungcheol's cedar and smoke, the head alpha easier to scent than the others. Jeonghan's citrus and something that you can't put your finger on. Mingyu's clean laundry smell with a hint of something soft and woody. The others remain a bit of a mess, but you're determined to try, hoping that maybe untangling each scent will lead you to untangling them and finding a sense of belonging that you'd hoped to find here and that they said they'd wanted you to find.
You try not to think about what happens if you don't find a place here. Though it's actually entirely normal not to, you don't know if you could survive that kind of embarrassment. You had already been a bit wary of using omega placement services as it was, desperate to find a pack after years of living on your own and unwilling to go back to living with your all-beta family in your tiny town where nothing much ever happened.
Thirteen pack members is a lot after coming from something small, something lonely. You'd been thrilled at the idea, realizing that you'd never be alone again, that you'd always have someone to lean on. Now you're here, in a house full of thirteen people who are supposed to be your pack, and you're still eating breakfast alone. Still sitting on the outside of their easy familiarity. Still trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between being new and being home.
Creaking stairs catch your attention. You perk up, freezing as you listen to the soft steps of someone coming down the stairs and toward the kitchen. You smell the cedar and smoke before you see him, your brain getting a little foggy before Seungcheol ever steps into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
He pulls up short when he sees you. He's surprised, and you realize he hadn't smelled you before he walked in, unused to having an omega or an outsider in his house. He looks devastating this morning in sweatpants slung low on his hips and a t-shirt that's tight enough to show off the width of him and strength in his chest. An alpha not only built strong mentally but physically, someone who feels and looks dependable, someone who looks entirely too soft and swollen and pretty in the dawn light.
He blinks at you. His eyes are dark and a little unfocused, still soft with sleep, but there's something sharp underneath. It makes you sit up straighter, you body thrumming as he flicks on the light. You squint, but when your eyes adjust, he's still looking at you with an expression he doesn't understand.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" He asks, voice rough with sleep. "Are you alright?"
"What? Oh." You lower your spoon to the bowl, hyperaware of him. "Sorry, I'm an early riser in new places. I can go if you need the kitchen, sorry-"
"No, stay."
It's not a command, but his voice is firm enough that you nod instantly, relaxing a little. He moves further into the room, carrying the heavy presence of a head alpha with him. You can feel it in the way he moves, the way he takes up space and the gravity around him that has nothing to do with physical mass and everything to do with him.
You grip the edge of the counter, trying to stay composed as your omega instincts kick in. The last thing you want is for him to think you're awkward or needy. You don't want him to know how much you're struggling with this transition more than you should be. You're supposed to be settling in and comfortable by now, but you're not.
It scares you.
"Coffee?" he asks, already turning it on.
"No, I'm okay."
He hums, opening the cabinet next to the coffee maker. You watch him scan the mugs until he finds a specific one and selects it. You wonder if they have assigned mugs, if there's a hierarchy in the cabinet beyond your understanding like so many other things here.
Silence hangs between you as he makes his coffee, turning to lean backward against the counter with the mug tucked between his hands. His gaze drifts back to you and he gives you a soft smile that you tentatively return. The attention makes you feel exposed, like he's looking at you and sees right through the core of you despite only having been in the same room for a few minutes.
"Couldn't sleep?" You ask, desperately trying to fill the silence.
"Something like that." He gestures toward you. "What about you? Do you do this a lot? Waking up early and sitting alone in the dark, I mean."
"I guess, yeah. I have a hard time sleeping in new places and I don't like to just lay there."
"Mmm." There's a pause, and you can feel him still watching you. Still assessing. "You eat breakfast alone a lot too?"
You glance down at the bowl. "Sometimes, I guess? I'm usually up before anyone else."
"How long have you been up?"
"Maybe an hour?"
"And you've just been sitting here by yourself."
It's not quite a question, but it feels like one. You glance up at him, trying to figure out where this is going, but his expression is unreadable. His scent shifts and you realize what it is. Protectiveness. He doesn't like that you're sitting here by yourself, and the realization makes something warm unfurl in your chest.
"I don't mind," you murmur, looking down again to hide the sudden flush you feel.
He hums. "I'm hungry." You look up, confused at the statement. He points to your bowl. "What are you having?"
"Cereal. I think it's honey? I didn't want to wake anyone up by cooking."
"Cereal sounds good. Honey is Chan's. Good choice."
He moves with purpose then, crossing to the cabinets to pull down a bowl. Your eyes catch on the line of his shoulders and the way his muscles shift under the cotton tee, the way it rides up just slightly as he reaches for the milk in the fridge, revealing a tiny strip of skin at his lower back that makes your mouth go dry. You look away quickly, back down at your soggy cereal, and try to get your breathing under control.
You watch as he fixes himself a bowl of cereal and strides over to you, dragging a stool up next to you. You blink in surprise. You expected him to sit across from you, but instead he plops down next to you close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin and close enough that the cedar and smoke of him makes your eyes flutter. His knee brushes yours as he adjusts and you have to physically stop yourself from leaning into him, your nervous system lighting up at the proximity.
"So," he says, pulling you from the static of your thoughts. "Tell me about yourself."
You blink at him. "Like what?"
"Anything." He takes another bite of cereal like this is completely normal. Like he wakes up at five in the morning to eat with strangers all the time. "Where are you from again?"
"Small town." You stir your cereal. The milk swirls. "Really small. Everyone-knows-everyone small."
"And you left."
"For college. I came back for a few years after but it didn't feel like I fit in anymore so I moved to the city, got an apartment by myself. Thought I wanted independence and freedom to figure things out on my own terms." You take a bite of cereal just to have something to do with your hands. "Turns out being alone and being independent aren't the same thing. I was just lonely. Really lonely. Didn't even realize how bad it was until I started looking into pack placement programs and well… now I’m here trying it out, I guess."
Seungcheol goes quiet. When you glance over, his expression is soft. "How long were you alone?"
"Three years."
"That's a long time for anyone, not specifically an omega."
"Yeah." You swallow. "I didn't know what I was missing. I'm still trying to figure it out, I think and how I… fit in."
"You're doing fine," he says.
"I eat breakfast alone every morning."
"Not this morning, though."
The words are simple and direct. When you look up at him, he's watching you with something warm in his expression. Something that makes your chest tight.
"No," you say quietly. "Not this morning."
He gives you a small smile that transforms his face. Suddenly, he's not the intimidating pack alpha - he's soft and warm, more like a person than someone you have to impress or earn the trust of. You relax a little, stirring your milk aimlessly.
"What about you?" you ask. "What made you want to lead a pack this big?"
He huffs a quiet laugh. "Honestly? I didn't set out to. It just kind of happened. We all met in college, started spending time together, and it felt right. Natural. Then more people joined and suddenly I was the one everyone looked to when decisions needed to be made. Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing it right. If I'm taking care of everyone the way I should be."
"I think you're doing a good job," you say. "Everyone seems happy. Settled."
He looks at you and gives you a look, one brow raised. "Everyone except you."
His words make you wince. Not because they're accusatory, but because you didn't think he noticed. You realize it's a bit of an insult for you to have doubted him - Seungcheol's entire role as the head alpha is to understand his pack, to balance the personalities, to lead. That includes you, despite not feeling like it, and you realize that he's taken notice and doesn't intend to let it go.
"We don't eat alone unless we want to in my pack," he says simply.
My pack. The possessiveness in those two words makes something flutter in your chest and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop yourself from grinning, to stop yourself from getting too hopeful.
"I didn't want to be a burden," you admit.
"You're not," he promises. "You're a part of our pack which means you're never a burden. We want you here. We wouldn't have gone through the trouble of the agency and placement if we didn't think there was something missing. You were missing and we're happy to gave you, even if it's a little awkward at first."
You can feel your heart beating too fast, the warmth of him making you dizzy. Seungcheol doesn't lean closer, but you feel him closer, the smell of him overwhelming and comforting. You realize he's doing it on purpose, pheromones comforting you like he should. You glance up and he has a knowing look on his face, a little smug and a little endeared and you find yourself smiling.
"Thank you," you manage. "For noticing."
"Always," he murmurs.
You finish your cereal together as the sky outside continues to lighten. For the first time since you moved into this house, you don't feel quite so alone.
-
It's Tuesday in the middle of the day when Seungcheol interrupts your next meal. You look up as he walks onto the back porch, the apple covered in peanut butter in your hand pausing as he sits down next to you at the table. He's got a full plate with him, rice, chicken and vegetables piled high as he sighs and settles in comfortably.
"Hey," he says casually, cracking open the can of soda he's brought along.
"Hi," you say slowly, eyeing him.
"I am starving. Wanted something sweet."
You look at his plate. Then back at him. Then back at the plate.
"Seungcheol, that is not sweet."
"What?"
"You said you wanted something sweet. That's chicken."
He blinks and looks down like he's just now noticing what's on it. You press your lips together as he scratches the side of his neck, nodding. "Right. I meant I wanted something sweet after this. You like ice cream?"
"I do."
"Great." He leans over, peering at your apple slices as his shoulders brush yours, sending a spark through you. "What are you having?"
"Apple and peanut butter."
"Hmmm. Classic." He starts cutting into his chicken as you watch him, eyes narrowed. "How's your day?"
You're still processing the fact that he claimed to be starving for something sweet while holding a savory meal, but you answer anyway, amused.
"Good. I've been reading."
"Yeah? What are you reading?"
Taking another bite of your apple, you tell him. Seungcheol is an engaged listener, nodding and asking follow up questions as he devours his plate. Somehow, time passes easily. Even after he's cleared his plate, he leans back into his chair, foot up on the seat as he tells you about one of his favorite books growing up, dimples appearing every time he smiles.
You love his dimples, watching them as he ducks his head and laughs, long hair falling in his eyes. You smile too, unable to help it around him. He's infectious like that, easily shifting the mood from something tense to warm or lonely to comfortable, like an alpha should.
Eventually, he sighs heavily, stretching. You try not to notice the way his shirt peels up, revealing the barest hint of soft stomach before he drops his arms back down and grins at you.
"I have to get back to work," he says. "But this was nice. We should do it again."
"That would be nice."
He smiles and gets up, clearing his plate and reaching to grab your empty one without much preamble. You watch him go inside, shaking your head when you realize that he never wanted something sweet in the first place.
-
You've been awake for three hours.
It's not insomnia, exactly. It's more like your brain won't shut off and you keep laying in bed replaying conversations, analyzing the way Seungcheol looked at you on Wednesday, wondering if you're reading too much into the fact that Mingyu sat close enough to scent you yesterday but didn't, if any of this means anything or if you're just desperate enough to convince yourself it does. As usual, your brain is doing laps, restless and unsettled, and the quiet of the house at midnight isn't helping. It's making you hyper-aware of how alone you are in your room, how easy it would be to just stay here without anyone noticing and how good you've gotten at it.
So you give up on sleep. Again.
The kitchen is dark when you pad downstairs in your pajamas, the hum of the refrigerator going as you open it up, squinting against the light. You don't bother to turn the overhead lights on, the moon filtering in through the big windows over the sink enough to get by. You steal the honey cereal - Chan's - again from the pantry, and fix a bowl before sitting at the counter, sighing as you take a bite.
Your phone buzzes on the counter, startling you. You flip it over, squinting in the dark as you frown when you read it.
SEUNGCHEOL [12:15 AM]: What are you doing?
Your stomach does something complicated.
YOU [12:15 AM]: Eating cereal… why?
SEUNGCHEOL [12:16 AM] Be right there
You set your phone down slowly, your heart doing something erratic in your chest. He heard you come downstairs. His room is above the kitchen - you know this now - and realize that he must have heard you snooping around down here like he did that first morning he found you eating in the kitchen at five in the morning.
A minute later, he appears in the kitchen doorway and your brain short circuits a little. He's in soft cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt that's clearly old and pulled tight across his chest. His hair is completely disheveled, sticking up in about fifteen different directions, and he's rumpled and sleepy enough to tell you that he absolutely was asleep until he heard you.
"Hey," he croaks.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," he lies.
"You didn't have to come down, Seungcheol."
"I did. And you can call me Cheol, you know. Seungcheol makes it sound like I'm in trouble."
He moves to the cabinet, and grabs a bowl, making himself a matching snack before he sits down close enough that his thigh brushes yours. You shiver and if he notices, he has the decency not to point it out.
"Maybe you are in trouble," you mutter, taking a bite.
"Yeah? What for?"
"Being a liar who lies. You heard me and came down."
He grins and takes a bite of cereal. He chews thoughtfully for a few seconds, ignoring your stare. "So what if I did? I wanted to join you, so I did. Anyway, trouble sleeping again?"
"Kind of." You push cereal around your bowl, not quite meeting his eyes. "My brain won't shut off."
"Yeah?" He shifts slightly, and you're hyperaware of every point where his body is close to yours. "What's it doing?"
"Thinking."
"Pack stuff?"
"Maybe." You finally look at him. His eyes are soft in the moonlight. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Are you doing this on purpose?"
He doesn't ask what you mean. Doesn't pretend to be confused. Just smiles into his cereal, and the smile is so knowing that your face goes hot.
"Yep."
"Why?" Your voice is barely a whisper. "Why are you doing this?"
He sets his spoon down. Turns to face you fully, and there's something serious in his expression now, something that makes you sit up and pay attention to him.
"I told you already," he says softly. "We don't eat alone unless we want to. Do you want to?" You hesitate only a moment before shaking your head. "Exaclty. So until you feel confidence to ask someone - you can ask any of us, by the way - I'll make sure you're not eating alone."
It's something so simple and yet it devastates you to hear him say it. It isn't the words themselves exactly, but rather the way he says it, like it's a promise, like he's already decided that this doesn't require permission or gratitude or even for you to ask. It's just a fact that he's going to do this, no negotiation, no need to think about it.
You think about the last three years of your life of eating in your apartment along, of making meals for one, of not having to consider anyone else's schedule or preferences. Three years of being fine with it because fine was easier than admitting you were lonely. And now you have a pack you don't know what to do with, but this alpha - this head of a thirteen-person pack - is keen enough to pick up on what you need and come down to the kitchen at midnight to make sure you have what you need.
It's wonderful and terrifying all at once.
"Okay," you murmur, nodding.
You watch him in the moonlight filtering through the kitchen window. His hair is still a mess and his face is puffy with sleep, but he's soft. Warm. You notice a small scar on his collarbone you've never been close enough to notice before, and wonder where he got it from.
When he finishes his bowl of cereal, he looks at yours, raising his brows. "You finishing that?"
You shake your head and he grins, reaching over and brushing against you deliberately to steal your bowl. The contact is electric as his arm grazes your shoulder, his chest brushing your back for just a second, and your entire nervous system short-circuits. You nearly go catatonic at the contact, omega melting even when he pulls away, leaving you dizzy and touch starved and hungry for something not food. Your skin tingles where he touched you.
Seungcheol notices. This time, you see the way he grins, smug and content at your reaction. It hits you that he planned that, that he wanted you to feel it. The realization makes your chest tight in a way that's half panic, half something else entirely.
You can feel the heat crawling up your neck, your face, and it pisses you off - not at him, but at yourself for being so transparent, so easy to read. You huff and cross your arms over your chest, turning to him, temper flaring a little. You're not mad at all, but your omega instincts bristle in a way that feels playful and fun, something entirely unfamiliar to you. It's like your body knows something your brain hasn't caught up to yet.
"Well that's not fair," you huff. "You can't just do that."
"Do what?"
"Brush up against me and use your… alpha ways."
He laughs, full bellied and loud, echoing off the kitchen walls. "My alpha ways?"
"Yes!"
"That's how it works."
"Well!" You stomp your foot against the footrest on the stool. "I would like to file a complaint. Wait, who do I file a complaint with? You're head alpha."
Even as you say it, you know how ridiculous you sound. You're literally complaining to the person you're complaining about. It's absurd. But there's also a part of you that likes this game, this playful banter.
"You're cute when you panic."
The word lands like a punch. Cute. You're not cute. You're competent and sarcastic and you've survived three years alone in a city that didn't care about you. You're not cute. Except the way he says it makes you feel small in a way that isn't entirely bad. You like it, even.
"I'm not panicking," you say, which is a lie and you both know it.
"Sure."
"And for the record, I'm not cute. I am a very strong, very assertive omega." You stand up, trying to reclaim some dignity, trying to put distance between yourself and the way his presence makes your skin feel too tight. "I've even lived on my own. Very independent."
"Absolutely," he agrees, not sounding convinced at all.
Seungcheol stands with you and puts the bowls in the sink, leaving them unwashed for once. He grins at you and gestures to the door and you listen, because apparently you do that now. Your body just obeys him, no thought required, no decision made. You just move when he moves, follow when he leads. It should feel wrong, but it doesn't. It feels familiar in a way you've been craving and you finally have it.
He follows you up the stairs and you're hyperaware of him behind you, footsteps quiet and measured. . You can feel the warmth of him in the space between your bodies, close enough that you could lean back and touch him. Your omega is purring at his proximity, at the simple fact of him being there, and you hate how easy it's becoming to just accept it. To want it.
The hallway is dark except for the moonlight filtering through the window at the end, letting in enough light for you to walk to your room, third door to the left. When you reach it, you pause, your hand on the doorknob, suddenly unsure of the protocol. Do you just say goodnight? Do you invite him in? The uncertainty makes your stomach knot uncomfortably, panic spiking.
You turn to look at him and he's closer than you expected. Close enough that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his eyes. He's still soft from sleep, and he's looking at you like he looks at the other members of his pack, warm and soft and so gentle that it makes your omega nearly scream.
Seungcheol grins and leans down, pressing a kiss briefly to your head, soft and warm and over before you even know it's happening. Your throat tightens immediately, thoughts turning to static as he takes a step back, winking at you.
"Sleep, he murmurs. "Wake me up when you want breakfast. I mean it."
He dismisses himself then and you watch him walk back down the hallway, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness, and you don't move until you hear his door close softly upstairs.
Only then do you slip into your room and lean against the door, your heart still racing, your forehead still burning with the ghost of his kiss. You touch your fingers to the spot where he kissed you, like you can hold onto it somehow.
Crawling into bed, you do exactly what Seungcheol has asked and you sleep.
-
The next morning when you wake up, you don’t have to wake Seungcheol. You hear the noise downstairs, confusion drawing you down the steps and into the kitchen where breakfast is being made in full. You stand in the doorway, confused as you watch Mingyu and Joshua argue at the stove, the sound of eggs sizzling and the smell of bacon wafting toward you.
Seungkwan is at the coffee machine, staring lifelessly into the open air as his coffee brews while Chan stands on his tip toes to reach more coffee mugs out of the cabinet behind him. Seokmin is sitting on the counter swinging his legs, laughing animatedly at whatever Soonyoung and Jihoon are arguing about near the sink while Jeonghan lays across the counter, head in Seokmin’s lap as he dozes.
Seungcheol walks in behind you, not missing at beat as he steers you by the waist toward the counter. Jeonghan peeks an eye open and grins, lifting himself from Seokmin’s lap to make room for you just as Seungcheol grip you by the waist and halls you up to sit on the counter next to Jeonghan, the citrus and jasmine smell of him placating your immediate irritation at being lifted.
“Why is everyone in the kitchen?” You demand, turning to Jeonghan because Seungcheol is already leaving you and heading for the fridge. “The sun isn’t even up yet.”
“Rule number one,” Jeonghan yawns, scooting closer so that he’s pressed up against you. You hesitate for only a second before you let yourself relax and tentatively lean toward him. “The omega is never allowed to eat alone unless she asks to.”
Seokmin peers around him. “Do you want to?”
His question hangs in the air among the noise and chaos of the kitchen, scents hitting you from every angle, the sound of Minghao complaining about burnt bacon and Mingyu hollering as oil pops and burns his wrist.
You grin, ducking your head a little as Seungcheol catches your eyes from across the kitchen and winks.
thinking about… pussydrunk!won & his addiction with being in between your thighs┊custom order 📋
warnings. . . explicit sexual content (mdni) ﹕ oral fixation ﹕ face riding ﹕ cum eating ﹕ masturbation ﹕ face sitting ﹕ (not proofread !)
order notes: playing re9 and im so close to kms… capcom just throw anything together to make these creatures bro
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who became addicted after his first taste of you. he could never get enough. he loves your sweet moans and the way his name slips from your mouth like a prayer whenever you are about to cum.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who wakes you up with his face between your thighs, chin already drenched in your arousal. he’d hum whenever you were fully awake, already slipping two fingers inside, curling them just right while he devoured you.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who loves when you grip his hair whenever it’s too much. he’d be on his knees at the edge of the bed, desperately fisting his cock every time you tugged his head closer.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who drinks every drop eagerly like a starved man, groaning against your pussy, the vibration shooting through your core.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who literally begs you to sit on his face. the mere sight of you straddling him, grinding your hips down every time you wanted more, drives him insane.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who does it for his own pleasure. he’d lick and kiss your pussy for what felt like hours, making sure you were satisfied, all while he leaked through his sweats.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who likes to pour wine on your breasts, thighs, then right above your pussy. he’d lick up every drop, refusing to waste anything.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who tends to forget to breathe properly while eating you, hooked on the taste. he’d come up for air, breathing ragged, chin glistening with strings of your slick connecting from his mouth before diving back in.
꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who keeps going even after you cum. he keeps licking you through it, savoring the way your hips twitch—not planning to stop until you’re crying and pushing his head away.
— ᨳଓ . In which Jungwon takes "age is just a number" a little too seriously and makes it his personal mission to get Jay’s best friend's best friend to like him back, even if she’s made it painfully clear that younger boys have never been, and never will be, her type.
OMG TOOK MY BLOOD TEST AND IT HURTS LIKE A BITCH HOLY SHIT ITS SO PAINFUL LIKE IT HURTS TO BEND MY ARM AND I HAD TO DRIVE HOME AND IT WAS THE WORST EXPERIENCE EVER
in which, you have do not have a crush on your brother's best friend, jake; decelis high's golden boy, campus crush, and football superstar.
because that would be ridiculous.
...right? OR
the one where two oblivious idiots fall in love while everyone around them patiently waits to collect their betting money.
byr : brothersbsf!jake x f!reader, romcom, fluff, friends to lovers, brother's best friend, mutual pining, high school au, idiots in love
wc : 7147 words (i got carried away, it was supposed to be 4k)
masterlist 𐙚 tl is always open ; reblogs are appreciated!
sim jaeyun, or better known as jake, was decelis high’s golden boy.
the man was the star football player, smart, rich, popular, and surrounded by a group of friends so tightly knit that watching them felt like a sitcom. he was the “golden retriever” of the group– or perhaps even the school. the happy-go-lucky boy who made every room he entered a little brighter with his loud personality and bright smile.
and the campus crush, of course. the kind acts, and the charming smile brought a number of girls flocking towards him.
then there was you, yang y/n, the older sister of yang jungwon. you weren’t exactly a favorite of the people. not that you were a bitch– god no– you were simply a little too direct, straightforward, and somewhat cold; the type who made people think twice before starting a conversation. by sophomore year, people had decided you were somewhat of an enigma.
you were the type of girl people thought twice about asking a pen from. and jake was the type of guy they’d wave at in the hallways and ask for help even if it’s for dumb things.
you were the beauty they observed from afar. you had that “untouchable” air around you. the quiet confidence you carried yourself with made your presence known and respected. it was only the coldness in your eyes that drove people away.
it didn’t bother you much. you preferred being alone or surrounded by your group of friends.
and you weren’t a stranger to jake. how could you be?
your younger brother became friends with him when you were in middle school. and since then, the whole friend group, seven guys all with different styles and personalities, would come to your house every wednesday and friday after school.
they were a lively bunch, often inviting you to their frequent movie nights or game nights when they came over, and you did comply a couple of times.
and of course there was the fateful day, just a day before jake’s birthday. they had invited you to their movie night as usual and none of your friends were free either, so you joined them. you sat down on the floor, pillow in your lap, back resting against the sofa.
the movie, sunoo’s pick, was a romance and slow paced one. honestly, it was flat out boring and unintresting.
not even half way through the movie, you had to fight to keep you head up– you tried, really did– but eventually, it was all in vain. you fell asleep. where you may ask?
ding ding ding!
sim jaeyun’s shoulder.
he woke you up when the movie ended, apologising and teasing, saying he had to go home and your shoulder was crushing him– but his voice? it was too soft to be “casual”. you jerked back, the drowsiness earlier gone– your cheeks turned red with embarrassment and your mouth open with horror.
for a second, you swore the room seemed as if it had suddenly gone silent. but he just laughed and pinched your cheeks, ruffled your hair, whispered, “close the mouth, you might drool” all before standing to walk out.
you sat there, glued to the floor, flushed as you watched all the boys leave.
jungwon turned to you when it was finally just the both of you, “what was that, huh?”
“nothing!” you said. your voice came out a little louder than you intended it to. he just smirked, eye-brow raised as he gestured to your red ears.
you grab the nearest thing to you, which so happens to be a pillow, and throw it at his face.
he laughed, muttering something teasingly as you got up quickly, fanning your face, profusely blushing– the embarrassment getting worse.
letting the door fall shut, you walked into your room and fall face flat onto your bed.
you cursed, how could you fall asleep on jake sim of all people? and goddamn it, why was he actually pretty cute? you screamed into your pillow, frustrated because you can’t find jake sim cute. he’s your classmate and your brother’s friend.
a horrific thought crossed your mind.
you didn’t like him. right?
you couldn’t. crushes were lame. and boyfriends were uncool, useless and a distraction. you always said so, since you were twelve.
that was two months ago.
now you’re making it your mission to ignore him. it wasn’t going really well though. how can you possibly ignore someone when they go to your school, is your classmate, friends with your brother– and should be charged rent for how often he was in your house.
no matter how hard you tried, the butterflies always came back. with every greeting, with every stupid puppy-like smile, every invitation for you to join them for dinner, or their movie nights, or their game nights, or– well, you get the point.
the kids in your school would freak out if they found out the yang y/n acted like a human who couldn’t function, couldn’t work and gosh couldn’t stop getting flustered around a certain boy.
oh how humiliating it would be.
eventually your two friends, yunah and sora, found out about your “not” crush on jake on your weekly trip to the local mcdonalds. and, oh my god, they could not stop cheesing.
“aww, our baby girl has finally grown up,” yunah gushed, smiling so wide you wondered whether her cheeks hurt.
sora wasn’t any better. she giggled, elbowed your ribs, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly.
rolling your eyes, you repied, “it’s not a crush. i don’t like him,” before aggressively biting a fry.
“sure it isn’t babe. that’s why you get all nervous every time he enters the room, or challenges you in class, or—” sora was interrupted by your whiny screech.
the two girls couldn’t help but burst out laughing, watching their dear best friend malfunctioning at a not-so-crush on a certain boy.
“okay, fine! maybe i do have a crush. but it’s only a little one. and it WILL go away. i can’t stand this,” you admit. finally.
“right. and that’s what they all say,” yunah said, smiling cheekily.
you elbowed the girl beside you, only making her laugh more. you groaned, letting your head drop to the table, hiding your face from them.
“Y/N!”
oh no. jake. you freeze. you turn around and see the man running towards you. you pause your music, pulling your earbud out as he stops in front of you.
“hi,” he says.
“hi,” you reply, keeping your tone flat and uninterested.
“ouch, y/n. why so bored?” he says, feigning hurt. “i thought we were friends.” he moves to walk ahead of you.
“oh, is it so? i didn’t think so,” you say, rolling your eyes. his smile only widens, and he turns to walk backwards so he is facing you.
“jake, walk properly. you’re going to trip over something,” you say, eyes narrowing.
“oh! she cares,” jake says, cheering like his favourite football team won. you can’t help but let out a small giggle at his antics. but what you fail to see is that jake sim’s smile widens as he watches you giggle.
“why are you even here, sim?” you ask, trying to sound bored, though you aren’t able to crush the smile that has already formed.
“why, i’m here to accompany the dear lady on her voyage to her great home, for i” he pauses dramatically, pointing at himself, “am a gentleman and am also going to meet her dearest younger brother, yang jungwon.” he finishes with a tiny little bow in your direction.
you roll your eyes. “you? a gentleman? didn’t you and sunghoon throw sunoo in the pool three days ago?”
sighing, he says, “i recall no such thing, m’lady,” and lies. and he says all this while delivering a cheeky wink.
“of course you don’t, was it a technical malfunction because of gravity?” you ask, eyes attempting to look serious but there is a small laugh in your voice.
jake only laughs, shaking his head, running his hand through his hair.
when you reach your house, he runs ahead to push the door open for you. you mutter a quick thanks, ears turning red, silently praying he won’t notice.
you sprint up to your room, so you don’t see that jake’s cheeks have also faintly flushed pink.
you shut the door behind you, throw your bag on the bed and slide down to the floor, covering your face.
“i can’t be acting like this over jake! it’s so embarrassing,” you whisper, scared that saying it any louder will expose your crush on the man.
a couple of minutes later, a knock on your door pulls you out of your trance. you pull open the door and are met with your brother’s face.
“come down, we’re ordering pizza,” he says, not waiting for a reply before turning around and walking downstairs again.
you make your way downstairs, fixing your hair as you go. your heart is still beating a little faster than normal because of a certain boy and his antics, and you’re walking towards him right now.
shit. do you look good? you hope you do. because– actually, you don’t know why. he’s seen you in worse attire.
“there she is. the lady, the woman, the icon,” sunoo’s loud voice greets you as you step into the room, and it is also the last thing you hear before you find yourself in a bone crushing hug from said boy.
a small laugh leaves your lips, as you ruffle the younger boy’s hair before greeting the rest of the room.
heeseung smiles at you, greeting you with a side hug, before asking “what pizza would you like?”
“i’m not sur—” you begin to say, but jay shoves the phone in your hand letting you scroll through the options yourself. you thank him, pulling out of heeseung’s embrace and collapsing on the sofa beside your brother.
placing your order, you hand the phone to sunghoon, who sticks his hand out for you, clicking his tongue in impatience, teasing you for being so slow. you smack his hand lightly, watching as he feigns hurt, sending the room into bursts of laughter.
ni-ki– the youngest of the group– true to his age and flings himself onto the sofa, landing on everybody with a small “oof”
groans and cries fill the room, cursing the younger boy. he yells in protest as everyone pushes him down.
as jake pulls out a deck of uno cards from his bag, you ask “why do you even have that?” sliding down onto the floor alongside sunghoon.
he grins, “preparation.” was all he offered.
jungwon and heeseung bring out the drinks as everyone not-so patiently waits for the food. during the third game of uno– after multiple accusations of cheating, dramatic threats to end friendships, and cries of frustration and happiness– the pizza finally arrives, much to everyone's happiness.
“thank the lord, my stomach’s been growling like i haven’t fed it for years.” heeseung groans dramatically, lying down on the floor, clutching his stomach.
cans of soft drinks and boxes of pizza are spread all around you, and of course no plates, because at the end of the day you guys are still lazy high school students who hate doing the dishes.
the hum of something upbeat plays softly in the background, but no one really pays it any mind; everyone is busy stuffing themselves full and talking their hearts out.
at the moment, jay and sunghoon are arguing about some assignment and the rest of the room is just passing comments and watching, occasionally giggling at them. you shift closer to sunghoon, and without looking away from jay, he scoots over to make room. you grab the can from his hand and take a sip. sunghoon lets you, too caught up, trying to prove his point.
you giggle, watching jay animatedly mimic sunghoon, and pass the drink back. without even pausing for a moment, he grabs it and takes a swig before placing it down on the floor, his his hands flying wildly as he loudly threatens jay.
the whole group is clutching their stomachs, falling backwards laughing and enjoying the argument. well, everyone except jake. his eyes are fixed on the can sunghoon placed on the ground.
a faint trace of your lipgloss was left on the can. the very same spot you had taken a sip out of? sunghoon had taken one too.
it was stupid really. very stupid. but he couldn’t stop staring at the can’s rim and he couldn't figure out why his stomach twisted so uncomfortably.
a particularly loud laugh breaks through the room, but his eyes snap towards your figure. he doesn’t know why you’re laughing, but he does know he wishes he caused it instead. and he really wished it was him you were leaning on instead.
he plays along, laughing as well. he moves to grab another slice of pizza when his hand brushes yours. sparks shoot through his body. he pulls his hand away, muttering a quick sorry, pushing the slice towards you. you stare at him for a second, grabbing the slice. your smile widens a little more.
a warm feeling engulfs you, and without your knowledge your smile widens as well. you hum along to the song playing in the background, suddenly feeling a little happier.
sunghoon turns to you and raises an eye-brow. as if asking why the sudden increase in happiness. amongst the screaming chaos, he lowers his head to hear you better.
and ni-ki, always the menace, notices. big mistake. “sunghoon making them moves,” he teases, his voice exaggerating every syllable.
you only roll your eyes and sunghoon threatens to hit the kid, but no one realises how jake’s smile has disappeared from his face.
“okay guys, pack it up. it’s getting really late.” heeseung announces. “ni-ki, sunoo, i’m dropping the two of you,” he informs, as he gets up picking up the empty boxes of pizza walking past the rest of you, to the kitchen. you follow the man, grabbing a bunch of empty cans, and jake joins you.
you walk in silence, shoulders brushing, to the kitchen. and god, that shouldn’t give you butterflies. but it does. you’re absolutely screwed.
pen spinning in your hand, you’re trying your best not to fall asleep in class. yunah is dozing off right beside you, and you sigh. you’re watching the clock tick on the wall, wishing time goes faster.
slumping against the chair as you watch jake answer something you don’t even know the question of.
god, he looks so pretty with the sleeves of his hoodie rolled back and those thick black framed glasses with his fluffy hair falling into his eyes.
with ten minutes to spare, your teacher announces a group project worth forty-five percent of your grade. you rolling your eyes, because god. you hate group projects.
“yang y/n, don’t roll your eyes.” your teachers colds, because of course he had to notice. you mutter a quick sorry, before you turn towards your best friend, opening your mouth to ask her to be partners.
your teacher clears his throat, getting the class’s attention once more. “before you decide who to partner with, i’ve already assigned—” and he is cut off by loud groans and whines.
he only shakes his head, “i know, you guys are never happy. i’ll announce the groups and no changes will be made. these groups are final.” he says, his eyes narrowing and moving across the room, as if waiting for anyone to disagree with him.
you let your head fall to the table, a group project. with your classmates. amazing.
he starts announcing groups one-by-one. “kim nari, park juhoon, kang…”
four or five groups later, yunah perks up as she hears her name, and immediately lets out a disappointed moan when she realises the two of you weren’t paired together.
bouncing your leg, you get increasingly anxious watching all the tolerable people in your class get put into teams.
god, you hoped you got a good group.
“sim jaeyun, choi jiwoo, park sunghoon and yang y/n.” the teacher announces, finally.
you heave a sigh of relief as you learn sunghoon and jake were in your group. you didn’t talk to jiwoo but she seemed like a nice girl. but the thought of working with jake? made you a little nervous.
the bell rings, and the teacher walks out– the last class finally dismissed. you sling your bag over your shoulder, walking out with yunah.
feeling a slight tap against your shoulder, you spin around to see choi jiwoo in front of you. you only tilt your head, waiting for her to speak as you wave yunah off.
“uhm–” she stutters, “i need your instagram? or number, preferably? for the project?” she speaks, her voice soft, but sounding a little unsure.
“yeah, sure.” you say, “could i have your phone? i’ll add it in.” the girl fumbles a little with her bag, as if shocked you were so easy to convince– or for that matter– talk to. you type in your name and number, then save it. she thanks you, and you brush it off, turning around to go find your friends.
you’re drying your hair when you notice you’re in a group chat. you pick your phone up, realising it was the one for the project. everyone is active, how convenient, you think.
unknown
hi guys! it’s me jiwoo, is it fine if we meet up tom after school for the project?
in the library, if everyone’s good with that!
sunghoon
sure
jake
of course!
you reply with a thumbs up, making a mental note to postpone your dinner with jungwon for tomorrow.
and that’s how you find yourself seated across from sim jaeyun at four-o-clock the next evening. the four of you quickly decide on how to split the work, and then settle to do your work. it wasn’t a difficult project, it was just a little lengthy.
the four of you work in silence, the only noise noise comes from keyboards clicking and pages turning.
the silence only lasts for about forty minutes before sunghoon starts twisting in his seat, complainging about his back being stiff. everyone cracks a smile at his statement, and jake snorts. “it’s the grandpa in you,” he mocks, his grin only widening when sunghoon glares at him.
“i’m going to go get some drinks and snacks from the cafe across the campus. what do you guys want?” sunghoon asks, getting up from his seat, grabbing his phone and wallet from his bag.
once he leaves, you shift your attention back to your screen, reading through the article, looking for points to support your arguments. that’s when you feel jiwoo’s eyes on you. the girl sitting next to you stops typing, stares at her screen, then deletes a whole paragraph. scribbles something down, then scratches it.
she lets out a little frustrated sigh, before glancing at you once more. she opens her mouth, as if to say something, but shuts it– thinking better of it.
you glance towards her and she averts her eyes, choosing to focus on her screen instead. you tap the desk once, gaining her attention. “need something?” you ask, voice light.
“uhh, yeah actually. thank you. i’m kinda stuck here.” she says, pushing her screen towards you. you hum, looking at her screen. “see here?” you say, pointing at her screen. she nods, watching you with utmost attention.
you explain her mistake to her carefully, making sure she understands where she went wrong, and pointing her toward the section she should cite. understanding dawns her face when she gets it. she smiles brightly and thanks you, and you just nod, turning back to your screen.
you get up from your seat, muttering something about getting a book. you stretch as you search for the book you need, smiling slightly when you find it.
you take the longer way back, wanting to stretch your legs out properly. and when you reach the table, your eyes narrow and your jaw clenches. because apparently jake migrated to your spot and claimed it his– during your little stroll around the library– to sit next to jiwoo. and they were sitting so close.
you walk closer, watching jiwoo giggle at something jake said. lord since when does he smile that wide? and holy shit, jiwoo. he cannot be that funny, you thought. they didn’t even realise you reached the table, until you cleared your throat.
“sorry, she just need some help, i hope you don’t mind me taking your spot,” jake says, his grin not fading.
you only nod, pulling your things towards you, before taking a seat in his chair.
jiwoo’s eyes shoot towards you for a second, watching your reaction before deciding you were fine and then going back to listening to jake. and you focused back on your work. but suddenly, it seems as if you lost all the willpower to work because you can’t seem to ignore the way jake and jiwoo are speaking, forgetting your presence as if you weren’t even there!
you sigh, removing your glasses and rubbing your eyes. you stretch and when you open your eyes, a cold coffee materializes in front of you. you turn around, to be greeted by the sight of sunghoon– the world’s slowest delivery boy– giving everyone else's drinks.
you thank him, but even to your own ears your voice comes out flatter than usual. he still catches it, raising an eyebrow, questioning your tone. you shake your head, trying to tell him it’s nothing. but you weren’t able to stop the way your eyes flicked to the pair sitting across you.
understanding dawns on sunghoon’s face, and a cheeky grin begins to form. he takes a seat beside you, trying to stop laughing.
jake notices, and asks “what’s up? why do you look like you're laugh away from taking a shit in your pants? ” sunghoon snorts and waves his question off, glancing around the table, catching you crack a small smile while jiwoo bursts into laughter.
the table quiets again, everyone getting absorbed in their work. well, everyone except sunghoon. that man was buzzing with the urge to say something, and only you knew what it was.
kissing your teeth, you suck in a sharp breath, rolling your eyes as you feel sunghoon’s gaze on you once again. you watch him choose to stare at jake from the corner of your eye– after disguising a snicker as a cough.
jake looks up, catching sunghoon stare at him with a smirk on his face. he lifts an eyebrow, tilting his head only for sunghoon to ignore him, who instead chooses to take a sip from his drink.
you spend the next hour, controlling the urge to hit sunghoon and avoid glancing at jake and jiwoo interact. and that goal? not going very well. your eyes keep shifting upwards– but you convince yourself it’s because they’re seated right in front of you. and not because you're jealous or anything. because that would be ridiculous. …right? you can’t be jealous. you aren’t even dating.
because you would never date jake sim right? you can’t. that’s weird.
when the clock hits six, jiwoo rises after packing her things, “i have to leave, i have practice in sometime. text me updates on what you do, and when we meet next! bye!”
she leaves quickly, leaving it to you, sunghoon, and jake.
“so?” sunghoon says, in that specific tone that has you resisting the urge to kick him under the table.
“so, what?” jake and you reply at the same time. you glance at him through the corner of your eyes, only to find him already looking. your face warms. and sunghoon catches it all. of course he does.
“are we going to continue working? or call it a day?” sunghoon asks, trying too hard to keep his tone casual. and you could have sworn that was not what he was going to say. but thank god he didn’t. because if he had, you might have actually jumped at him.
jake, somehow oblivious as ever, questions none of his friend’s weird behavior– and yours for the fact– and replies “we can leave, i’m kind of tired too, i might go mad soon” earning a tired laugh from you.
busy packing away your things, you fail to see the way jake pauses just to watch you laugh. jake’s eyes flick towards sunghoon, who is trying not to laugh and smirks at him, and raises an eyebrow when he catches jake’s eye.
“what?” jake mouths, confused at the other boy’s teasing actions. what could he possibly being teasing him about?
sunghoon’s smirk widens further, and let out a small laugh, gaining your attention as well.
you stare at him, unimpressed and annoyed, and jake looks at his best friend confused and slightly irritated.
the three of you walk out, casually talking about the latest gossip going around your grade. though the guys were more invested in it than you were. whoever decided women gossip more than men needs to get themselves some proper guy friends.
mid-way through the conversation, when you’re about five minutes out of the building, jake stops. he frantically pats his pockets, while a look of horror flashes on his face. “i left my phone in the building,” he groans.
“go get it then, puppy boy. should we wait?” sunghoon asks, as he stops– turning towards the other boy. jake shakes his head, telling you and sunghoon to move on and that he’ll catch up with the two of you. you shrug, telling him you'd walk slowly, and he just smiles and sprints the opposite direction and into the building.
and that was your big mistake. the moment the boy was out of earshot, sunghoon turns to you as you begin to walk. a grin that makes your hands itch to hit him forms on his face, and you knew he'd finally found the opportunity he'd been waiting for.
“so,” he begins. and this time, you deliver a light punch to his side. shooting him a glare, as if saying ‘don’t even try’. he doesn’t get the hint– or he just doesn’t care, and says “you and jake, huh?”
watching your ears turn red, his smirk widens further. “well well well, what do we have here? the yang y/n blushing over a man? much less her brother’s best friend. oh! what a sight to— OW!” he screams, clutching his arm in pain as he jumps slightly away from you. he looks at you in shock and then looks at his arm and the tiny little mark of where you pinched him. you simply stare at him, face burning.
honestly? you just prayed you weren’t in competition to be the brightest tomato in existence. your glare sharpens, watching the man double down, clutching his stomach in laughter. sunghoon’s wheezing when he finally gets up, and slings an arm over your shoulder.
“oh c’mon. it’s not the end of the world, jake’s a really good guy, yeah? and i’m not saying this because he’s my bestfriend, scout’s honour.” he says lifting his other hand and placing it on his chest, solemnly– as if he was pledging to the country’s honour. you groan, trying to duck out from beneath his arm, but Sunghoon only laughs and tightens his grip for another second.
and what neither of you notices is jake returning, his chest slightly heaving. and his jaw clenches, watching sunghoon’s arm around you and— wait. were you blushing? jake couldn’t help but feel angry. and his stomach twists, uncomfortably. because that’s his best friend, not some random dude. he stops in his tracks, his phone falling from his hand.
you turn at the sound, and pull yourself out of sunghoon’s embrace. you turn even more red, watching jake scramble to pick up his phone. your eyes shift between sunghoon and jake, praying he didn’t hear a word of the conversation you just had.
sunghoon opens his arms, his grin widening. you could basically hear him think, ‘perfect timing’. “jakey-poo, my boy!” he says, running towards jake like a heartbroken wife of a man sent off to the military. and jake, because he refuses to show his upset mood, hugs him back. and on sunghoon’s hoodie? he catches the very faint smell of your perfume. his jaw clenches, and he breathes in heavily, trying to calm himself– because he shouldn't feel like this.
you just watch the two of them hug, rolling your eyes. when you click your tongue, sunghoon looks up, smirks and says, “you’re just jealous because i have someone who'll put up with me and will hug me.” and he does all this while clutching jake a little harder.
his grin widens and he sees your eyes narrow.
“okay, boys. pack it up, we don’t have time for you to make-out right now. i have a dinner to attend and i don’t want to be anymore late than i am. and if i miss the bus, i’ll make sure the two of you won’t hear the end of it,” you say, clapping your hands and sharpening your glare.
sunghoon releases jake from his grip, jumping slightly to mimic a sailor listening to his captains command, “aye-aye captain!” he says, pulling jake along with him to match your strides.
all this while, jake hasn’t said a word. his hands stayed clenched at his sides, and his jaw clenched slightly. all that good mood from earlier disappeared within five minutes.
you wave the two boys off with a small smile, when you get on the bus. they watch the bus begin to move before walking back home together. normally, it’s loud, chaotic and filled with teasing each other about something dumb. but right now? it’s a one-sided conversation.
sunghoon is the only one contributing to the noise, talking about something dumb that happened in a league match between him and heeseung. jake doesn’t miss the way sunghoon keeps glancing at him, but he cannot find it in him to act normal.
five minutes into the walk, sunghoon stops, grabbing jake’s elbow and forcing jake to turn towards him. “okay, we aren’t doing this. what’s going on? you were fine like sometime ago. what crawled up your ass in the span of fifteen minutes.”
jake just huffs, rolling his eyes, “i don’t know, maybe you were too busy to realise.” he begins to walk, leaving sunghoon standing there alone.
he catches up with two long strides, “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“you,” jake replies, without turning to look at his best friend.
“me?” sunghoon repeats, pointing at himself. “what did i do?”
jake glances at sunghoon, releasing an irritated breath, “don’t act stupid.”
sunghoon just stares at him, bewildered. then, like someone flipped a switch, understanding dawns on his face and a sly grin forms.
“jakey-poo, are you jealous?” he snickers. jake turns towards his best friend so fast, his neck cracked.
“what? no.” he pauses, “why the hell would i be jealous. you can do whatever you want with her. not like you haven’t already,” he raps out, his ears turning bright.
“uh-huh. then why are you so pressed?” sunghoon asks, but he’s speaking like he already knows something jake doesn’t. he’s withholding some information. and that pisses him off more.
“i’m not actually. i’m perfectly chill,” jake says, trying to make himself sound casual. but even his own ears don’t believe it. sunghoon just raises his eyebrow, questioning it.
“oh really? that’s why you said ‘not like i haven’t already’? then tell me– if it doesn’t bother you– what i did.”
jake clicks his tongue, refusing to speak. “c’mon puppy boy, i can wait for you all day.”
“you’re all so– so close, yeah? two days ago at their house, today. whenever. i don’t know.” jake spits out.
“jake, my darling, my dear bestfriend. we’ve always been so close.” sunghoon says, his tone dramatic as always.
“so?”
“so? why does it bother you know?”
sunghoon only meets with silence. jake still isn’t looking at him and he waits, before he continues.
“it didn’t bother you last year. hell, it didn’t bother you half a year ago,” he pauses, letting his words sink in. “so what changed now?”
jake’s steps falter for a moment, before he resumes walking. he couldn’t even say anything. because it was true. sunghoon and y/n have always been close. and it was also true he just started becoming aware of it. before? he never batted an eye when she hugged sunghoon, or laughed with him, or teased him. but now? it brings something mean inside him.
“jake, you don’t get jealous because she’s around me. you get jealous because you wish she was around you, instead.”
jake stops. just stops walking. his fingers clutch the strap of his bag a little tighter. because sunghoon wasn’t speaking bullshit, he was confirming something jake already subconsciously knew.
and sunghoon, he just waited patiently beside jake. watching him, carefully. but made sure not to pressurise him into anything.
the road seems to quiet for a moment. “oh.” was the only sound that left jake’s mouth. and at that, sunghoon smiles and claps him on the back, “took you long enough,” he laughs. and jake? couldn’t help but laugh too.
“i’m sorry i got annoyed, it was weird of me.” jake apologizes.
“dude, don’t worry about it. it happens, not to me obviously– i’m too perfect for all of that, but–” and he was cut off by jake elbowing him in the ribs and the two of them burst out laughing.
over the next few days? your crush on jake seems to grow.
not because he suddenly did something new. it just felt like he was a little more intentional with his actions and words. but you were pretty sure you were imagining it, because jake’s a nice guy. and you’re just confusing it because you like him.
he walks you back home– or to the bus stop– more often these days, always saying he was going the same way anyways. but then again, with how often he was at your house– it just might be true. the way you seem to catch his eyes in the hallways more often. the way his gaze always found you, when he entered your house, before sending a bright smile towards you.
and suddenly, you were more aware of the way he remembered things about you. he remembered the way you take your coffee– extra milk, less sugar– but he’d seen you order it for years, the specific brand of pens you like, the fact that you always forgot a hair tie somewhere. but it didn’t mean anything. right? jake was just observant and kind to everyone, he did it without ceremony and without thought. he did it like it was effortless, and as simple as breathing.
sometimes, at home, when the guys are around, every time you laugh, you feel his eyes on you. not in a weird way. but just a quick glance, before looking away again.
maybe you were just noticing it now because of your stupid little crush.
so when he joined you on your walk back home on a friday evening, you didn’t think anything of it. the sky was cloudy, and gloomy. and the weather was your favourite. so you chose to walk back, instead of taking the bus. and jake? he just followed, because you assumed he was going the same way.
he followed you, unquestioning, when you walked past the bus stop– despite knowing neither of you had carried an umbrella and could get drenched in the rain.
the walk was quiet today. none of the regular banter the two of you usually shared. and strangely enough, you were very grateful for it.
then without much ceremony, the rain begins to fall. not pouring, but enough for their clothes to start getting wet. and enough to make you smile. you laugh feeling the rain on your skin. stopping for a moment, just basking in the feeling of the water hitting your skin.
and jake stops beside you. smiling, as he watches you enjoy the rain. he doesn't seem to care that he's getting soaked too. his attention never leaves you.
he stands there, arms crossed in the rain watching you twirl around, hair let loose and getting soaked in the rain.
then you stop, “what?” you ask, catching him watch you.
he just shrugs, smile widening. “nothing,” he says.
you just tilt your head at him, but the grin? it never leaves your face. and jake? his heart started to melt.
“actually,” he blurts out.
you wait, watching him. and he feels your attention on him. he sighs before speaking.
“i was going to wait for a better time, but i guess you had other plans,” he starts.
“me?” you ask, confused.
jake laughs, “yes, you, y/n.”
“what did i do?” you ask.
“you made me fall for you.” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
you freeze. “what…” was all you could say.
and jake’s heart drops to his ass. oh no, did he just ruin years worth of friendship? was this going to make it awk—
“are you joking?” you interrupt his inner monologue. you ask like you’re genuinely shocked. like it’s something you never ever considered before.
he laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, “no, uhm, i’m not. i really like you, for real. and uh, it’s okay if you don’t like me ba–”
“jake.” he stops, looking up.
“shut up.” he starts panicking, overthinking everything.
“you dumbass, i’ve liked you for so long too. since– since the movie incident actually.” you say.
jake lights up hearing your words, like you just handed him the world. “the movie incident? like the one where you accidentally fell asleep on me?” he’s smiling now, the teasing grin and tone back.
“shut up, don’t remind me” you say, rolling your eyes– but you can’t stop smiling. his grin widens, and he steps closer. “hey! you brought it up,” he says, laughing and he offers his hand to you.
you take it, intertwining your fingers. you gasp and stumble against him when he pulls you closer. he laughs as you hit his chest with your free hand.
he spins you around, and you giggle. and you’re suddenly aware of the way his eyes are on you, unwavering and filled with so much admiration. his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling undeniably close. his eyes flicker to your lips for a second before settling back on your eyes. your hands finds its way onto his chest.
his gaze lingers for a moment, searching yours before asking, “can i?” and the world around you seems to quiet.
he waits as you try to find the words, but they get stuck in your throat. so you nod. and he smiles, “thank you,” before leaning towards you slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.
you don’t. instead your hands wrap around his neck, and you stand on the tips of your toes as you meet him half way. his free hand cups your jaw as he finally kisses you.
his lips are warm despite the cold, and it’s so gentle– like he’s still in shock that this is all real. the kiss is everything you hadn't realised you'd been hoping for. soft. unhurried. gentle enough to make you wonder why you'd spent so many months pretending you didn't like him.
his forehead rests against yours for the briefest moment before he closes the distance again. this kiss is a little surer than the first, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. his thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and you smile against his lips.
his arm around your waist tightens ever so slightly, steadying you as your knees threaten to give out. and god, you're suddenly very grateful for the hold he has on your waist. you're pretty sure he can feel your heart pounding against his chest.
when you finally pull away, you’re still in his embrace and your arms are still around his neck. you're both smiling– small, almost disbelieving smiles.
“hi,” jake says quietly.
and you laugh, unable to stop yourself. “hi.”
“okay, i have something important to ask you,” jake asks, still smiling.
you hum, tilting your head upwards, watching him, “yang y/n, will you do me the honour of letting me be your boyfriend” he says, like a dork.
you burst out laughing, “why would i even say no?” you say. and he places a small kiss on your forehead, muttering that he just wanted to be sure.
that’s when it starts pouring, and the two of you laugh. he grabs your hand as you sprint towards your house. still smiling, still feeling his lips on yours.
when you burst into the house, soaking wet, giggling, hands still intertwined, dropping your soaked bags by the entrance, you're met with six pairs of eyes staring at you.
silence follows. sunghoon, the one closest to the two of you, looks at your hands, then back up. and all hell breaks loose.
“ABOUT DAMN TIME” sunoo and ni-ki scream.
“right? i was starting to wonder whether i’d have to force them to confess or they’d do something before” jay says.
sunghoon here, is taking all the credit, claiming he orchestrated this moment and heeseung laughs, shaking his head.
and jungwon stands there pinching the bridge of his nose, “seriously?” he says. but there’s no bite to it, he’s smiling as well.
“okay i need the deets.” sunoo says. you and jake share a glance before laughing and join the group.
“who confessed first?” jay asks.
“me,” jake says, but he was looking at you. not at jay.
“ATTA BOY. THAT’S MY MAN. NI-KI PAY UP,” sunghoon screams as ni-ki groans and collapses on the ground.
“you placed bets?” you asked, laughing in disbelief.
“in my defense, i had faith in our lover boy over here.” sunghoon replied.
“you called me a dumbass yesterday?” jake shot back immdiately.
“well, you are an idiot. and idiot in love” heeseung says, laughing as he dodges a pillow thrown by jake.
ni-ki asks, “okay, but the important question. did. you. kiss.” and the silence and red faces was enough to send the whole house in screams.
“wait!” sunoo suddenly disappears into the kitchen before returning with a handful of cans of soft drinks, passing one to everyone.
sunghoon pops open the can, and toasts, “to the best twenty bucks i’ve ever made,” sending the whole group to fits of laughter. with a small echo of “to jake and y/n!”
